#YOU CAN'T DROP THIS BOMB SHELL ON ME

[nopecho]

IS NO ONE GONNA TALK ABOUT THIS?????

I feel like my mind is exploding.

Whitney?? A good father?? Sir????

[ahmedpalestine]

Hello everyone,

I'm Ahmed, living far from my family who are going through the hardest time of their lives. They are displaced in tents that offer no protection from the cold or the summer heat. Even getting water is a struggle for them. On top of that, they face rockets and shells being fired at them while they are in their tents.

I can't describe the feeling I had when I woke up to the news that last night the occupation dropped tons of explosives on the displaced people's tents while they were asleep. They were buried under the sand by barrel bombs. The news says entire families have been wiped off the face of the earth. Then I pick up my phone to check on my family. I call my father, no signal. I call my mother, no signal. Do you know the panic and fear I live through every moment worrying about my family?

I can't do much from here, but you can be a helping hand. Your donation and sharing of this message might give them a chance to survive and possibly help them leave Gaza as soon as possible.

Every minute of your time and every share of this story could make a huge difference in my family's lives. Please help me do what we can to support my family and alleviate their suffering.

@timetravelingkitty @meaganfoster @briarhips @mazzikah @mahoushojoe

@rhubarbspring @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako

@feluka @terroristiraqi @irhabiya @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria

@deepspaceboytoy @post-brahminism @junglejim4322 @kibumkim @neechees

@mangocheesecakes @kyra45 @marnota @7bitter @tortiefrancis

@toiletpotato @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @criptochecca

@schoolhater @neptunerings @brutaliakhoa

@aristotels @komsomolka @neptunerings

@ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez

@watermotif @stuckinapril

@toiletpotato @fromjannah

@aristotels @komsomolka

@neptunerings @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritageposts

@socalgal @chilewithcarnage

@ghelgheli @sayruq @northgazaupdates

@feluka @apollos-olives @appsa

@vakarians-babe @appsa @paper-mario-wiki

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Our Little Love part six - OT7 Mafia/Yandere au

Warnings - 3.6k words of : Toxic yandere men, sub drop, crime, violence, injury, emotionally abusive behaviour, possessive behaviour, lying and manipulation, monopolising, unhealthy relationships, aftercare ish, love bombing?, Namjoon's dark side is coming out but internally (because we can read his mind but MC can't)

It’s a sting or an ache that rouses you awake, coming from your bruised wrist. You let out a soft gasp of pain, lifting your head to see Yoongi carefully applying cream to the dents the ropes had burned into your perfect skin. 

“Hoseok and his stupid games,” he mutters, full focus on making sure he’s soothing the marks of their punishment, like if the evidence of them went away so would the sadness they inflicted on you as well. It was a stupid naive thought, Yoongi knew it, but your presence in his life filled him with that silly feeling of hope. 

He gently rests your wrist on the bed, searching for the next limb before he notices your eyes on him. They’re blank he notices, void of anything, fuck, they really did a number on you. He couldn’t swallow down the lump of regret lodged in his throat, no he would suffocate on it until you recovered. 

You feel the bed dip beside your head, but it doesn’t pull your gaze away from Yoongi as he pulls your other wrist cautiously away from where you held it against your chest. You feel fingers in your hair, the urge to nuzzle against them almost overwhelming but the memories of their harsh words keeps you still.

“Heaven,” Taehyung's deep voice murmurs loud enough for you to hear as he plays with the strands. “Does it hurt?”

At his words you feel something pierce your middle, a pain that lay dormant until it was called out. A part of him means the sting of Yoongi’s ministriations, another part of him means the hole they carved out of your chest. At first it might seem sadistic, but he needed you to feel it, if you felt empty it would be harder to coax you back, the hurt meant you were still alive, still with them, and not an empty shell they were terrified they pushed you to be. 

He would take your anger, your betrayal, your sadness over the void you presented to them now. Yoongi moves you carefully from your fetal position on the bed, so you’re lying on your back, your eyes meet Taehyung’s as he peers down at you. The position has an itch of anxiety building under your skin, it's too familiar to your punishment even if you aren’t as physically as exposed, but the burn in your extremities from those ropes lulled your brain into believing it was about to happen again. 

You see the frown in his brows as he watches your chest lift and fall too deeply, the look in your eyes like a caged animal looking for a chance to run. It’s when Yoongi takes hold of your ankle you pull away with a small whimper. Both men look at each other for a moment as you swallow down the rising panic. 

“Little love,” Yoongi says, being as reassuring as he can, “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

You inhale like your soul slammed its way back to your body, the corners of your eyes watering. 

“Liar,” you barely manage to whisper, but it's loud enough that it cuts him. He deserved that. The anxiety in your limbs creeps into your chest, seizing your lungs until you’re unable to take a breath. 

The hand in your hair moves to cup your face, his body lying beside you, your hand is on his chest, your insides fighting with the urge to push him away or clutch his shirt and pull him closer.

“Y/n you need to breathe,” Tae instructs against your hair soothingly, taking your hand on his chest in his. The other palm turns your head so you face him, his thumb stroking circles on your cheek. “Breathe with me.”

You want to tell him you can’t, but you try to follow his example, earning yourself a small smile on his face, the hum of danger dampening. You lose yourself to Tae as you both lie together, feeling yourself calm before sleep takes you again. The last thing you feel is soft lips on your temple, but you’re too exhausted to register it.

—

“How is she doing?” Jin asks Yoongi as he washes his hands, breaking his despondent stare at nothing. 

He just nods in reply, avoiding eye contact. There were only a few times that Yoongi ever felt himself be moved to tears, but the state you were in now shoved him on the brink of a breakdown. And the worst part of it all was that they were responsible. Aftercare, especially after one of Hoseok’s sessions, was vital and they all knew it and yet because they were caught up in their own emotions they let you drop. 

“That bad huh,” Jin laughs humorlessly under his breath, leaning against the door frame as he contemplates his own shortcomings. “Namjoon wasn’t lying when he told her we were the scum of the earth.”

He hangs his head back, looking up at the ceiling as if it would hold all the answers or at least grant him the ability to rewind time back to when you first woke up.

“We weren’t supposed to be scum to her,” Yoongi muttered, turning off the water that scalded his hands red, the pain was good, it felt like he was paying for his mistakes, although it was a small compensation to what he would have to pay. “The rest of the world doesn’t matter, to Y/n we were supposed to be worthy of her.”

“But we’re not,” Jin replies quietly. 

“We didn’t have to prove it,” he bites back, feeling resentment towards Namjoon for bringing it up at all. He understood the need to be accepted, raging red flags and all, but to you they were supposed to be better, you were supposed to be the exception.

“What if she never forgives us,” he whispers his fears to the oldest of them, that tight invisible grip around his throat still present. 

Jin can’t even bring himself to placate him, he can’t, he has the same fears. 

—

Jimin’s tears crumbled their already broken hearts, but when Jungkook joined in it made them feel a despair they hadn’t felt since the day you left them. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Namjoon says through gritted teeth, unsure of who he was trying to convince when a small voice in the back of his head was calling him a liar. If he could he would shoot the voice dead. “Our relationship isn’t that weak.”

Hoseok watches their leader massage his eyes as though a headache was starting. 

“You need to go see her,” Yoongi says to Namjoon, arms folded, voice empty of emotion. Their fearless head of the crime syndicate had yet to visit you since the fight in the bathroom, Yoongi knew he would eat his words once he did.

“How are we going to fix this?” Hosek groans, patting Jimin’s head as he cried. The maknae was attached to Jimin’s back, both of them on the floor as they sobbed. 

Taehyung had refused to leave your side, the others went in and out but Tae was afraid if he left you you would find a way to escape again, and he couldn’t live through that a second time.  

“We broke her by exposing her,” Namjoon mumbles mostly to himself, thinking out loud, biting the skin of his thumb uncharacteristically nervous. “Made her feel like it was something bad…” made her pull away from us because we didn’t make her feel safe and let her drop. “Need to rebuild trust in the same way,” need to make her feel loved, “reassure her,” hold her but keep her vulnerable so she doesn’t build back up with walls against us. 

His brain works fast, now that the Suho problem was dealt with, he could focus on you until the repercussions of the Captain came. He wasn’t stupid, he knew there would be some sort of retaliation, the Captain didn’t seem the sort to let things go. 

“No more games,” Yoongi breaks his train of thoughts, eyes boring into him before looking at Hoseok too. “No more punishments, she never deserved any of them we were just sadistic fucks looking for an outlet for our own insecurity.”

Namjoon’s fist clenches, unhappy with the tone his usually stoic friend takes, even if his words held some truth. 

“A whole world at our disposal to kick down and we take it out on our little love,” Yoongi scoffs, chuckling in disgust with himself and the others. “We really are scum of the Earth.”

—

The Captain doesn’t find the ceiling all that interesting, but it’s all he can stare at alone in the hospital wing. He’s not alone in the sense of physically, the hospital staff mill around working on the ward, he’s merely separated by curtains from the other patients, but the noise around him felt like a hum, a buzz in the background. The only visitor he had was the Chief of police telling him to stand down about the syndicate task force and then offering (ordering) him half a years paid leave. 

“Take the time off,” he had said. “Recover,” he patted Suho’s shoulder before muttering, “it’ll do you some good.”

But the captain could see the truth in the Chief’s eyes, a hidden variable that was making him speak through the shadows. Kim Namjoon got to the police, he had his strings attached to every officer like they were his puppets. He only needed the top brass, they would create order and command for him. He wondered what he had on them all, how deep the corruption ran.

It seemed he was cut at the knees in more ways than one, the leader of the crime syndicate really drove that message home. He laughs at himself humourlessly despite the lack of anything funny in sight. One of the nurses giving him a judgmental side eye, wondering to herself whether they gave him too much morphine. 

Suho could still feel the pain tearing through his knee and his hand, albeit dulled by the drugs in his system. The bullet had been lodged into his bone, it required surgery to be pulled out, surgery that was paid for by an anonymous benefactor. The thought of who he suspected as that person made him want to beg to put the bullet back. 

Powerless wasn’t a feeling he was all that common with, even in his darkest days on the force he always felt hope, knew he would see the Sun rise another day. But Kim Namjoon had a way of drowning the Sun, and all her rays of hope. He could only pray that by some miracle, he could pull you out of the waters before your light washed out. 

—

The scene when you open your eyes is eerily similar to the one before your world flipped upside down, a part of you wanted to believe the hands of time had turned back or at least you woke up in an alternative universe where the fight never happened, but the memories burned through your mind too clearly for anything else to be true. All seven of your walking talking red flags were posted around you in the room, eyes on you albeit much softer than that day, yet for some reason it puts you on edge. 

“Heaven,” Jimin sits on his knees on the bed peering down at you, you notice the telling red rims around his eyes and his nose, was he crying? Why? He tries to cover it with a smile, his eyes disappearing into crescent moons but he couldn’t hide the evidence from you, you knew him too well.

He takes your hand in his, bringing it to his lips before he mumbles desperately against your skin, his voice breaking, “forgive us.”

Tentatively, as if afraid you were going to break or run away, two arms wrap around your middle, the maknae lying beside you burying his head into you but you can hear the tell tale sniffles. It was rare any of them ever cried, you really must look like a state.

Your head throbs from the continuous cycles of sleep you were putting yourself through, sleep was safe and you were too exhausted to live, let alone deal with the repercussions of your relationship. 

“Jungkook, you’re smothering our dove,” Hoseok sighs, arms folded as he keeps his distance. He wouldn’t say it aloud but since he and Namjoon were the directors of your punishment and subsequently the push into subdrop he was afraid of approaching you.

It wasn’t just your rejection that would break his heart, but if his presence caused a reaction of trauma, more than what you were presenting now, it would crumble him. It took everything in his will power not to fall to his knees and beg you to forgive them, and the man had never begged anyone for anything before. 

Even Namjon kept himself an arm length away, sitting on the ottoman at the end of your bed, watching you as the others interacted. Soekjin had stood beside you, his fingers massaging your forehead as if he could sense the pain, but your eyes find Namjoon. 

“Did you hurt him?” It was the first time you had seen him and the first words out of your mouth were about that cockroach. He can feel his anger begin to simmer dangerously, his jaw clenches before he releases a self deprecating laugh under his breath. This was cruel even for you, was it a test? Why didn’t you ask him whether he killed him, that he could answer truthfully, the details were a little more complicated. 

“We didn’t kill him,” Hoseok says, his mind flashing back to standing on the roof of the opposite building holding the sniper as it took out the Captain’s leg.

“That’s not what I asked,” you whisper, eyes starting to water again. 

Namjoon glances at Yoongi’s warning stare, the thoughts written clearly on his stone face, enough of proving to you how evil they truly were, the truth didn’t matter, only you did. But yet there was something inside of him urging him to tell you, a sadistic part of him that wanted to break the already cracked dusty rose tinted glasses. Was it so bad of him to want you to love the darkest parts of him? Couldn’t you hear his soul cry out for you to love him despite how bloodstained it was?

“No we didn’t hurt him Love,” he sighs, hanging his head so he wouldn’t have to meet your gaze, his fist clenching the material of his trousers. The lie tasted like coal in his mouth, but he would swallow it down even if it upset his stomach. 

You let out a sound of relief, the weight on your shoulders suddenly disappeared and you could breathe freely again. They actually saw you smile, and the guilt only cemented. 

“Thank you,” you exhale, the feeling of love you were holding back against them now allowed to roam back into your body. There was hope, there was a chance to heal your relationship; they listened to you despite their murderous intent, you were relieved. You were so worried they would kill him anyway despite your plea not to, but this was proof they were willing to work on themselves with you, that you meant something to them more than being their toy.

You close your eyes, feeling overwhelmed. Jimin wipes away your tears, you hadn’t even realised had slipped from the corner of your eyes. 

“Our baby’s so caring,” Jin comments, trying to keep the bite out of his voice and eyes. Your gaze falls on him and he smiles, it’s the most fake thing he’s ever done in front of you but you’d believe it. Seokjin was a mastermind at manipulation, to the point he could paint whatever he wanted on his face regardless of his emotions. Namjoon had debriefed them before you woke up, the objective was to do what they did best, monopolise you back under their spell.

It throws you, the gentle expression on his face, maybe you did wake up in an alternate reality. Jungkook distracts you, pulling you closer against him, his lips on your shoulder, making his way up your neck and cheek slowly. You turn to face him, eyes in a daze, that sweet bunny smile greeting you shyly but your attention is pulled away by another. 

The back of Taehyung’s fingers trace your cheek gently, another smile greeting you when you turn to him on the other side of you, finding him kneeling on the floor beside the bed. He takes notice of your glazed stare, the slow confusion on your face.

“Aren’t you the cutest little love to ever exist,” he coos quietly.

“Our only little love,” Yoongi corrects him.

“Our slice of heaven,” Jimin pipes in.

“The only heaven we’ll ever see,” Namjoon’s deep voice gruffs.

That overwhelming feeling only grew, but it didn’t feel unwanted, you felt cushioned, like you were being lifted or floating on a cloud. Gentle touches, soft words, soothing your soul quiet, letting it rest. But you were unaware a part of you was being buried.

“Our perfect Angel,” Namjoon whispered and for some reason it felt like the final nail in the coffin making you snap back to your senses.

“No,” you sit up to face him, breaking away all the physical touch they had on you. The safe space they had lulled you into with all your defences bare had shattered. “You can’t expect me to accept you for all your flaws if you won’t do the same for me.”

There’s a fight in your eyes that comes alive as you stare him down, but he keeps quiet letting you fill the silence.

“I am not perfect, YOU need to stop pretending I am,” you throw his words back at him, he fucked you with those words and made you accept their cruelty, he would have to offer you the same respite. “I am done with trying to live up to this impossible image you have of me, because every time I break the illusion I can see the disappointment in your faces and it kills me every time.”

“Little love, you are perfect,” Jin sighs, moving to sit in front of you to break the staring match between you and Joon. “All those things you think are flaws are perfect Love, they’re a part of you, of course they’re perfect.”

His thumb strokes your cheek soothingly, trying to will away the fire when it threatened to burn everything they had spent rebuilding in this room with your recovery.

“If we made you feel anything other than perfect dove that’s our fault,” Hoseok admits, “but you already know how bad we are, it’s always our fault, don’t let us fool you otherwise.”

“You don’t get it,” you frown, looking down at your lap. “When you love me like that, it's a burden.”

“Love,” Yoongi calls for you, desperation in his voice, hating that you felt that way at all. “That’s not our intention.”

“Baby,” Jungkook sits up beside you, and you start to feel confined, their bodies like iron bars of a jail, keeping you with them for a life sentence you were beginning to think you deserved. “We love you, we made a mistake, we know that, but our love for you isn’t bad.”

“It’s the one redeemable thing about us Heaven,” Taehyung adds, looking up at you even with your head hanging low, trying to meet your eyes. 

You feel your eyes water, you just ached, wanting to be drowned in their love but protected from their consequences. Last time you took the coward's way out, you ran away, this time you needed to create distance, but still work on the problem without bias, without their love infecting you until you could heal them and yourself.

“I don’t know where to go from here,” you confess, holding back a sob. Your mind starting to win the war it raged against your heart and all it wanted.

Their solemn expressions snap to you, the panic in their eyes piercing you.

“What do you mean, little love?” Jimin says warningly, you sounded like you were wanting to end your relationship but you surely knew better than anyone that it was impossible. They wouldn’t let you go if you tried.

“I think we need to go on a break,” you state, your voice strained from the heavy feeling of wanting to cry in your throat. 

“Absolutely not,” Hoseok shakes his head, nostrils flaring at the suggestion.

“I’m not asking,” you say firmly.

“You don’t get to make that decision little love,” Namjoon’s lips twitch as he stops himself from growling, how dare you even think it. “You’re ours.”

You both stare each other down, neither willing to compromise. 

“I’m mine,” you felt in control again, you hadn’t felt this way for so long, like your soul belonged to you, you weren’t just floating in their desires, you were your own person. 

“We won’t let you leave,” Namjoon retorted, not denying your statement.

“I didn’t say I wanted to leave,” you shake your head, looking at each of them before your gaze returns to the leader of the syndicate, a challenge present in both your stares. “But you don’t get to touch me, or fuck me, or play your games.”

Every one of your new rules hit them like a punch to the gut, a cruel mocking thought passing through the air between them, this was the consequences of their fuck up, and they knew if they wanted to keep you, they would have to listen. 

“One last thing,” you say after a lot of deliberating, a squeeze in your throat trying to stop you getting the words out, a deep frown set between your eyes. “I don’t want you to call me little love anymore.”

[poppy-metal]

So we know love island!Patrick would be messy on purpose but I'm just thinking how love island!Art would be so fucking messy unintentionally.

Like going back to what you were saying about being a bombshell that seduces him. Acting loyal to his partner in front of everyone but letting you crawl into his bed in the mornings to cuddle when she leaves. Sneaking kisses in hidden corners and getting handsy with each other because he can't resist you. Telling the guys his head isn't turned just all over the place but when the next recoupling comes around he picks you and it's like he dropped a bomb in the villa because everyone truly thought he'd be the one loyal guy in the house. It'd be even funnier if he goes to the hideaway with you immediately even though he wanted to "take it slow and do it right" with his last partner lol

It'd make for some great fucking tv.

I love toxic!art ❤️ everyone is lowkey into him being a secret asshole because the whole cookie cutter wholesome boy thing was boring as hell and his relationship was bland and everyone was rolling their eyes at it - drama loving whores.

you're like a picture out of arts wettest dream. literally cherry picked for him - the type of woman he jerks off too secretly but never admits to wanting out loud. seductive and mean and flirty and no one thinks you'll turn his head but he's like wet paper. you straddle his lap during a challenge and kiss him and he can't help himself. he fucking moans into it and can't keep his hands from wandering too your ass - so fucking soft in his hands - he chases your lips when you pull back and everyone is shocked. his girl chews him out and he feels so terrible about it, promises it was just a challenge thing and he was just playing it up - avoids you like the plauge the next day - but a twist is thrown in - you get to choose a man to take to the hideaway - to spend a night with and you're like a tiger - honed in on your prey - art is like a fucking innocent little deer in your jaws. you pick him obviously and all the girls blow up. you don't care though. you only want art and you'll have him no matter how bad it makes you look or how much you're scorned for it. art swallows at the grin you give him.

he makes so many empty promises to his girl - tells her he's gonna sleep on the floor - he's not even gonna talk to her - you're obviously delusional and deranged and he doesn't even like who you are as a person - you digust him - she eventually calms down, and she's pretty sure she can trust him. all the girls are telling her so. telling her how steady art has been this whole time and that you're just a slut and a bitch and art wants a classy woman, of which you are not -

he lasts ten minutes. ten minutes in the hideaway alone with you before he's inside you - pillows knocked off the bed and your skimpy little thong pulled to the side as he slides his cock home - he hates himself, he really does - he can't even think about the consequences and how this will definitely come out and ruin everything he's built - he just can't - he can't resist you - it was hopeless from the start - and god - you're like heaven around his dick - his eyes roll back and his hips are snapping into yours immediately, fucking you how he'd never fuck his couple - fucking you like he's punishing you for making me do this - balls slapping wetly against your pussy and you're moaning into it - fingers dug into his back with your legs wrapped around his waist.

"fuck my pussy, yes, yes, yes -" you chant, licking the shell of his ear and driving him crazy. "fucking huge cock - oh my god - you need to cum in me - cum in me and fuck me all night, baby-"

jesus.

[runabout-river]

It has happened now, a JJK artist on Twitter is in critical condition after being shelled by the Israeli Army in Gaza while sheltering inside a school. Reportedly, she lost an eye.

The screenshot is from a friend who barely manages to keep in contact with Noury with a family member's phone. This of course is Israel's tactic to cut communication from Gaza. The world isn't supposed to see the genocide and at least the amount of reports and eye witness accounts have dropped since because most people simply can't communicate their suffering to the world anymore.

This is the picture Noury drew before Israel decided to finally cleanse the Gaza Strip like it always wanted thanks to an exaggerated death count of a provoked military response, undisclosed shelling by the IOF of their own citizens and lies of 40 beheaded babies.

The caption of this piece of art reads "Please don't take my sunshine away," a response to chapter 236 and Gojo Satoru's apparent death.

Think back to that time. A favorite character of yours dies in a manga and you either draw or look at drawings of him to deal with that. Then a war starts that had been brewing for 75 years because Jewish Extremists and Supremacist with the backing from the war hungry US want you dead.

You know what I thought this entire time? That it's statistically unlikely that the one JJK artist from Gaza that I follow will be a victim in this war. There are 2.2 million people in Gaza but there's only one Noury, so what's the chance that something is going to happen to her?

What an absurd thought that turned out to be. I've been writing and raging on Tumblr about the genocide again and again and I know the severity of it, I know the numbers. I've seen the pictures and videos of dead children with their faces, not their heads, turned over like the pages of a book.

But most of that, the sheer enormity and the scale of it, was still abstract in my mind. Now, outside of the dry and clinical fact of it, the human element made me realize in my heart and mind that this is a genocide.

1 person among 2.2 million getting harmed isn't a statistical probability of 0.00001 percent. It's 100% because everyone is the target. Every Palestinian in Gaza is targeted with deprivation, hunger, thirst, illnesses and bombs. That is ethnic cleansing. That is the threat of genocide.

And the US, the UK and the EU, they're all complicit in this genocide and because I'm from Germany I'm also explicitly saying that Olaf Scholz, Marco Buschmann and Nancy Faeser are also complicit in this new holocaust.

Hopefully Noury will recover and hopefully she and her family and everyone else in Gaza will be able to go back to their homes. Homes btw, that per international law, Israel is supposed to replace or compensate for after destroying them.

Of course you don't need to compensate for anything if no one is there anymore, either because they're dead or they moved to another country involuntaryily.

[dreamties]

there's nothing really wrong with me; i'm just choking almost constantly || Polyam! Ghostface x GN! Reader

title from Twinkle Lights by The Sonder Bombs

Reader is dealing with the aftermath of their sexual assault, to which they still haven't told Billy and Stu that it was even a thing that happened. After a particularly rough night, the boys comfort them.

1st person POV

TRIGGER WARNINGS: there is reference to past SA, but it's not too graphic. the reader talks about it and there's like, references about it through out the text- and I know it can be really traumatic for some to read it so PLEASE be careful and read at your own risk. panic attacks, nightmares, i believe that's it !! let me know if I need to add more warnings!!

I blink awake, filled with an erratic, heart-pounding panic. It takes a moment to realize where I am- home, in my bed, by myself. I'm not at the trailer and I can't feel his breath down my neck anymore. 

I let out a shaky breath and sit up slowly, trying not to shock my body anymore.

My body feels unstable and wrong as I walk through the house. My mind and body caught in a fuzzy sort of dream state. 

I dial Stu's phone number, because I know he'll ask less questions than Billy- and that's what I needed right now. Just a distraction.

I school my voice to properly fake that sort of "I'm fine, nothing bad has ever happened to me" tone.

I clear my throat. "Stuey? I know it's a little late, but-"

"Nah, it's okay, baby. Whaddya need?"

I laugh- of course Stu sounds so chipper, he was likely up looking at Play Boys or watching total torture porn (aka a load of trash). 

"Could you pick me up? It'd be nice to stay at your place tonight." 

I can practically hear him grin on the other line. "Ab-so-LUTE-ly!"

I kind of half-giggle and thank him. I pull on an extra-long hoodie and grab the handmade Michael Myers plush my friend gave me off my bed. I wait out on the front porch for him to arrive. 

I settle into Stu's bed, and he hurriedly puts his magazines and other items under his bed, careless to the minor scrumpling to his merchandise. 

“Hey baby,” he kisses the top of my head and I try not to shrink away too much when he does so. I know it’s Stu, I know I’m safe- I can still feel his touch around my body, his hands at my throat, though. It’s so hard not to think he’s there with me, in bed next to Stu and I.

I smile at him and let him turn his lamp off even if the darkness and the looming shadows in his room are wholly disorienting.

I can feel a light tickle against the shell of my ear, like someone is whispering, “I won't be able to stop myself.” I shake him off of me and turn to my other side.

Just leave me alone, please.

I probably toss in my sleep the whole night, but Stu doesn’t seem bothered when we wake in the morning. My eyes are bleary and blinking back tears, hoping he doesn’t see. 

I should know better than to think Stu could keep any secret from Billy. I'm still surprised, however, that Billy jostles into the Macher's kitchen at 9am, already with a prickled attitude.

I drop the spoon into my bowl of cereal, milk splashing up and over onto the counter. I try to school my expression into something more neutral, so my surprise doesn’t hurt him. 

“Billy,” I greet. 

He replies back with my name, which I can only half-hear through the fuzzy, distant feeling in my body. 

Billy sits on a stool next to me, moving my bowl a little further from my reach. “Why were you up so late?”

I half-laugh, still tired, still groggy. “What, I’m not allowed to stay up?” I tease. And the hurt sick feeling settles in my throat. 

Billy shakes his head and sighs- he’s clearly frustrated. 

Stupid. Stop teasing him, he’s- I physically shake the thought off. Trying desperately to repel the negative energy like water to oil. Get it together.

“C’mon,” Billy tries again. He seems abnormally pissy, and I wonder what Stu told him on the phone. It’s no way that either of them could have figured it out, but the lump in my throat still grows at the possibility. 

“Just- missed Stu. That’s all.”

“You brought along your plushy,” he says, like that’s supposed to prove anything. “And that big hoodie of yours that you only wear when you’re sad.”

“Did Stu tell you that?” I try not to sound too antsy or annoyed. I know they’re only worried. Of course they’re worried- of course they know my tells like the back of their hands. I should have just stayed home, even if that meant waking up with the feeling of him pressed against my body. 

He nods. “You always tell us what’s wrong,” and he whispers my name in that hard-soft tone he gets when he’s anxious. I shiver.

“Nothing’s. . . nothing’s wrong.” I try and I know it’s bullshit. It’s a dumb attempt and Billy sees right through it. “Nothing that you can fix.” 

And I know Billy takes it as a personal attack- that I think he can’t take care of me. That his comfort isn’t enough, that he isn’t enough. I don’t know how to tell him that’s not what I meant, though, without telling him what happened. It feels hard to breathe, I take a shaky, sharp breath in. It doesn’t help. 

I don’t even know what’s going on, my eyes teary and blurred. My ears are ringing out. My body feels so fuzzy and too soft at the edges. My thoughts muddle in my brain and I don’t know if I'm breathing or talking or breathing or- I gasp out. 

Stu’s hands hold my shoulders tightly, trying to ground me. He’s done it a hundred times before, and it works nearly every time. 

My breath is labored, heavy and quick. Too quick. I still can’t feel myself breathing.

Billy and Stu both try to reassure me- I think. Their voices still unclear through the fog. 

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, sorry, sorry,” I repeat, till the word feels unsafe and garbled through my lips. “Shouldn't have to- shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have to. Have to- have to worry.”

My voice sounds so far away, like I’m speaking into a dying microphone, to the clashing, screaming crowd before me. Feeling so unheard, so unseen, even at center stage. 

The fog fades around Billy’s voice. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. Just- stop apologizing,” my name is slow on his tongue. “Can you hear me? C’mon, baby, you’re worrying Stu.” 

And I should respond. But everything just feels so- off. I’m not even sure what I’d say. I don’t want to explain myself. 

When the fog finally finally cuts through, I can breathe again. I’m sitting on the tiled floor of the Macher kitchen, with my knees pulled up against my chest. Billy and Stu sit on either side of me, their hands tentatively retracted from my body. 

I can finally breathe in the clearing. I could cry, if feeling my feelings didn’t hurt so much. If everything didn’t hurt. 

My breath takes a while to steady, and when it does, Billy takes this as a sign to pounce on me again. 

“What happened, baby?” And he sounds so . . . concerned. It hurts to know I’m hurting him. My body aches with every pound of my heart against my chest. 

“I think I had a panic attack,” I managed. 

Stu lets out an awkward laugh, and I don’t freak out this time when he touches my shoulder. “No shit!” 

He murmurs an apology and repeats himself, quieter now. It was sweet. Stu was so sweet and I can’t get over myself to just- live and not cause all this . . . all this angst and trial and tribulations between us. Billy would remind me- if I vocalized this ache - in my own words, that having tough emotions aren’t a burden. It feels like it is though. 

“I’m sorry,” I try and Billy shushes me. He seems annoyed still, I know it’s just the look he has when he’s scared, though.

Fuck, he’s scared. Get yourself together.

I swallow down the lump in my throat.

“Okay, fine. I can’t apologize, I get it.” I realize now that my voice croaks out, like I'd been crying. 

My eyes still feel hazy around the edges and they still struggle to focus on anything properly. 

“What can I say then?” I teasingly ask, and I feel sick to my stomach. 

Please don’t ask me why. Please don’t ask why. Please don’t ask why. Please.

“What’s up with you?” Billy asks. I’m not sure if that’s any better of a question though. 

“I- I can’t tell you.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

Stu sighs, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. His fingers tense when he speaks. “Please? We won’t- Stu glances at Billy and then back at myself- I won’t ask any other questions, I promise.” 

I give a humorless laugh in response. “Real assuring.”

“C’mon, I can’t control what Billy does,” he whines.

And there it is again. The lump in my throat. His breath tickling against my face. “I just can’t control myself around you.”

The attempts to shake off his incessant greed seem to only be in vain.

“Just- just get off of me, please,” I have to wrench the words out of my throat. “Please, ‘m sorry for- I’m sorry- just. Let go.”

Stu quickly winds his hand from my shoulder and puts his hands up, in defense. He looks at me all confused, his eyes wide and his brows furrowed. 

He lowers his hands and gives me those stupid, big blue puppy eyes.  “What’s wrong?” And he says it so gently. His voice felt warm and comforting.

“Just- I. Give me a moment.” 

“Okay,” both boys reply. 

“I- I think I was sexually assaulted.” My voice comes out in a tight whisper, lodged somewhere between my throat and the tension of the kitchen conversation. “I thought- I thought it was my fault or maybe it didn’t- it didn’t happen. Or- or maybe I misremembered it but-”

My voice gets caught and I let out a measly sob. 

“Woah,” Billy carefully reaches a hand out towards me, but doesn’t touch me. “Woah, woah. Baby,” he whispers. “What- who did this to you?”

I sniffle. I didn’t want to tell them.

It felt so much more real speaking it aloud. 

His voice feels dirty against my body, and I just want to get away from him. But he’s in the walls, he’s in my dreams. And I can’t escape. He’s sitting with me as my boyfriend’s try to comfort me. 

“I know better than that. I should have known better than that and-” my throat feels all funny, like I can’t breathe again. A sharp intake in, a shaky breath out. “And I still let him put his grubby hands all over me.”

“Woah, baby,” Billy’s voice is impossibly quiet and calm. He appears more apologetic and concerned with how I am, than the dark, revengefulness that usually seeps out of him when someone hurts me. “Baby, look at me, okay?”

I keep my head snuggled at the top of my knees, straining my eyes to look in his direction. I hum, not trusting myself to speak without crying. 

“It’s not- it’s not your fault. Whatever happened, it’s-”

My mouth seems to be on its own agenda. And my head feels impossibly fuzzy again. Everything is so . . . so disconnected. I tap my fingers against my shins, and they don’t feel like they’re really there at all. No matter how many times I tap them in the same familiar pattern. 

Nothing feels right. 

“I shouldn't have been such a tease. I- he told me to stop, said he wouldn’t be able to control himself if- and, and I didn’t listen, Billy. Was so confused, didn’t know where I was, Stuey and- and he- I told him that. But I should’ve listened. He w-warned me and I should have- I’m sorry.”

“Hey, shh,” Billy tries once more. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, baby. Whatever- whoever it was, who convinced you . . . it doesn’t matter, okay? He doesn’t- you didn’t make him do anything. You-” even Billy struggles with it. 

He sighs, “what do you need from us? Just right now- what do you need at this moment, okay?”

Stu tries, as well. Learning from his previous mistake. 

“Is it okay to hug you or touch your shoulder right now?”

I shake my head. His hands at my throat, his voice tickled against my face. 

His hands at my throat, telling me to behave. 

Taking my “i’m fine”s and “okay”s out of context, blatant ignorance of my confusion.

“Could we just- could we sit on the couch maybe?”

It felt better, safer, in the openness of the living room. 

Like I wasn't going to suffocate and, like, explode or something. 

Stu's hanging his limbs off one end of the couch, and Billy tentatively perches on a couch arm. I assume Billy is sitting strangely to give me space- Stu's position is natural though. He always sits weird, and does things weird, which I love. I love him. I love Billy, and I'm just. I'm hurting them- I'm sitting in the middle of the couch, shaky and strange, and hurting them.

“What can we do?” Billy sounds gentle. He sounds sincere. I think . . . he is. The whole situation is strange and terrifying. I want to go back to sleep and hope when I wake that the past few months were some fever dream instead. 

I let out a shaky, heaving sigh. 

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

“That’s- that's okay. Baby,” his voice is sturdy, despite the uncertainty bleeding in.

“Yeah!” Stu smiles at me, and it feels sort of warm. It feels almost good. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with someone so damaged.” I stare at my feet and my hands fidgeting absently in my lap. Tears pricking, stinging at my eyes.

I stumble over and retract apologies in my head. Trying to justify what he had done to me, to pin what he said, to pin his hands around my neck and push me down, as my own fault. As my own actions. 

I can’t tell Billy that. Not to him, not to Stu.

Billy has this restrained look in his eyes, and his face is twisted into an almost scowl. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I know I shouldn’t have said that. Because Billy thinks he’s broken, all the time.

He’s told me or alluded to his mom’s disappearance, to his asshole father. About the disconnect between himself and his own thoughts, his hands and his actions. He’s told us why he’s only ever felt safe and trusting in the arms of his lovers. 

And that he’s so afraid that one day, we’ll up and leave him, too. 

That he’s too damaged, too broken, to be loved. 

And I go and fuck it up again. I only know how to hurt.

“That’s, wait- that’s not. I’m sorry, Billy. I-”

And his voice is uncharacteristically sweet. It’s calm and low, and I can’t hear held back anger.

“It’s okay.”

“What?” My voice is small and squeaks out, unsure. 

“It’s okay. Baby," Billy says my name with my name with care. “You’re not- you will never be too fucked up to be loved by us.”

Stu smiles, protective. “I- we will never let that happen to you again.”

They offer physical comforts, they lean closer but not close enough to touch me. 

Maybe I shouldn’t be so trusting. He had promised to never hurt me and I followed him blindly. But Billy & Stu aren’t him. And I should be allowed to put my faith into others, without fearing I'll be hurt again.

I lean into Billy's touch, allowing him to encase me in his strong arms. Stu leans against us, bringing his long, sweater-clad arms around the huddled mess of us. 

Maybe it's against my better judgements.

Maybe it's a mistake.

But maybe, too, this is safety. This is love.

[artzychic27]

More Favoritism stuff, cuz… I fucking love this au. Also, the person who sent in the first ask, sent in another one where two gay punks get the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous, so expect to see that soon

Now, let’s just throw around a few incorrect quotes

Marc: *About to go into battle as Mariquita* I know you're a little worried about me. Look, I'm not gonna lie to you. We've never gone into a fight like this, and I don't know what's gonna happen. But you don't have to worry. I will make it back. I love you, man.

*Kiran hugs Marc*

Lila: Aaw.

*Marc then turns around in shock to see Lila, who has heard his every word*

Lila: Are you talking to your baby brother?

Marc: No!… Shut up!

Lila: That's adorable!

—

Mariquita: And where have you been?

Bomb Shell: Nowhere?

Mariquita: How did you get so hurt?

Bomb Shell: Oh, that. Well, uh, we were...

Vulpix: Hit...

Viperion: By a...

CapriKid: Bus?

Queen Bee: *whispers to CapriKid* Hit by a bus?!

CapriKid: Well, what was I supposed to say, meteor, cow, flying building?!

—

Lila: *To the student body* Okay, yeah. I've got an apology. So, I have this friend who took pity on me as the new student this year. And I convinced him that it would be fun to mess up Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s life. So I pretended to be friends with Marinette, and then he would come to my house after and we would just laugh about all the dumb stuff Marinette said. And we gave these candy bar things that would make her break out, and then we turned her best friends against her because, oh yeah! She has her crush’s entire schedule in her room, which is creepy. And then... Oh yeah, Marc- you know my friend Marc? The mastermind got Adrien, Marinette’s obsession, to see the light and separate himself from her. Oh, God, and we gave her foot cream instead of face wash! God! I am so sorry Marinette. Really, I don't know why I did this. I guess it's probably because I've got a big crush on a guy who’s not even into you! Suck on that! AY-YI-YI-YI-YI-YI!

—

Marinette: Can I just say that we don't have a clique problem at this school? And some of us shouldn't have to take this workshop because some of us are just victims in this situation.

Mme. Mendeleiev: … Raise your hand if you have ever been personally victimized by Marinette Dupain-Cheng? *she watches all students and teachers raise hands*

—

Marc: Marinette Dupain-Cheng... How do I begin to explain Marinette Dupain-Cheng?

Jean: Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a blackmailer.

Denise: I hear she’s got dirt on all of her classmates and they don’t know it.

Lacey: I hear she’s stalking Adrien now.

Ismael: Her room is lined with photos of him.

Simon: One time, I caught her kissing a wax statue of him at the museum.

Mireille: And she threatened me not to say anything.

Cosette: One time she punched me in the face... So I kicked her ass. It was awesome.

—

Marinette: I'm sorry that people are so jealous of me... but I can't help it that I'm popular.

—

Marinette: Why were you talking to Marc Anciel?

Nathaniel: Well, I mean-

Marinette: He’s so pathetic. Let me tell you something about Marc Anciel. We super close back in middle school. I know, right? It's so embarrassing. I don't even... Whatever. So then in eighth grade, I started going out with my first boyfriend Gerard who was totally gorgeous and obsessed with me, and Marc was like, weirdly jealous. Like, if I would blow him off to hang out with Gerard, he’s be like, "When can we hang out?" And I'd be like, "Why are you so obsessed with us?" So then, for my birthday party, which I invited Gerard to, I was like, "Marc, I can't invite you, because I think you're in love with Gerard." I mean I couldn't have that at my party. There would be so much drama. I mean, right? Of course, everyone caught on, and saw him only as a homewrecker, because, duh, he is. And then he dropped out of school because no one would talk to him after, and he came back in the fall for lycee, his hair was messed up and he was totally weird, and now I guess he's on crack.

—

Adrien: Marinette seems... sweet!

Marc: Marinette Dupain-Cheng is not sweet! She's a scum-sucking demon queen, she ruined my life!

—

Okay, now headcanons!

Marc occasionally gets revenge on Marinette by cutting holes into her jeans, leggings, and shorts

After Marinette tarnished Lila’s reputation by claiming she got Akumatized because she was jealous of her liking Adrien, Marc seized the opportunity to adopt her

Marc: Hey, when you’re done crying over the school’s cult leader shunning you, I wanna restyle your hair.

Lila: … Why are you talking to me? Aren’t you worried about her highness sending them after you?

Marc: Honey, we’ve been bitter enemies the minute she was born. She can do or say whatever the hell she wants. Now, let me do your hair. I’m not a fan of the three ponytails.

Lila: Fine, go ahead. *Marc starts undoing her ponytails* … You do know you’re in the girls bathroom, right?

Marc: Screw gender, you needed help.

They spend their days avoiding Marinette and her classmates at all costs, reading under the stairs on in the basement, and doing each others nails

Lila has considered switching classes, but she doesn’t want to give Marinette the satisfaction

Marc’s closed off from his classmates in this au. He doesn’t know if he can trust them or not, and they don’t talk to him

Whenever they try to make conversation, he gives one worded answers and then walks away

Marinette has blackmail on all of her classmates, and they’re none the wiser. One person thinks everyone else loves her and they go along with it because they don’t want to be shunned and harassed like the outcasts by the rest of the school

It’s mob mentality. She popular and supposedly nice, so people go along with everything she says, and becuase she has connections with celebrities

The moment Nathaniel behind hanging out with Marc and Lila after Marc refused to make an Adrinette comic with him, Marinette made sure to let everyone know about his anger issues, causing him to be avoided by almost half the student body while the rest just try to provoke him

Well, that all ends when Marc defends him

Marc: Oh, Louis. Do I need to tell a certain someone I caught you making out with another certain someone in the school basement?

Louis: Y-you wouldn’t!

Marc: … Try me, bitch. *Louis runs away* That’s what I thought.

Nathaniel: … Thanks-

Marc: Don’t talk to me. *Leaves*

For that Carrie au, Marc’s not bullied as badly as 80s Carrie (because it’s not the 80s where teenagers had knives and could shiv you at any moment and slaughtered pigs), but it’s common to find graffiti on his locker and for some people to steal his belongings

Marc discovers his telekinesis when he inadvertently causes a cup of water to spill all over Marinette after she threw a crumpled up napkin at him

He gets his small dose of payback by tripping a few of his tormentors from other classes, making phones short circuit, and tying some shoelaces together

But enough about that, let’s talk about Malice- Marc’s akuma form in the Favoritism au, and the catty name everyone likes to call him at school

Grimm Reaper going through a punk phase, still has a scythe, can teleport similarly to Oni-Chan, and when people are slashed by his scythe, the worst parts of themselves are revealed

Imagine just these glowing hazes emerging from you, taking your form, and blurting out every awful thing you’ve ever done

Malice’s overall look is a hooded asymmetrical black jacket with a chain belt, torn black pants, and fingerless black gloves. The hood covers his face, showing only his narrowed glowing green eyes and wide smile. (That’s all most people ever see Marc as, just this malevolent person who enjoys the misery of others. But when you pull the hood down, there are cracks on his face, his eyes are dull with black streaks running down like tears, and the smile is gone)

[iamheretemporarly]

Ok so, people were interested so here

Ok so

It takes place after the kraang invasion for rottmnt and at the beginning of season 1 for 12 tmnt

Portal shenanigans happens and oop, rise leo is thrown in the 12 universe

He bonds with them (even tho a certain turtle is jelly rn) and the episode where raph and leeo fight about leadership happens, and instead of raph going "i can be a better leader" he actually goes "i bet that leon over there would be a better leader"

They nominate leon as leader, and leo storms off, he meets karai, usual stuff

And the snakeweek incident never happens cause leon actually manages under stress and didn't freeze like raph did in the og episode

So leon is still chosen leader by the team (splinter is very blissfully unaware because the boys kept this between them)

The tension between leo and Leon only gets thicker, leon knows that this is not good, he knows that leo's bros are only trying to get under his skin and they don't mean any true harm, but he can sense thaat there's something wrong

One day he catches leo watching space Heroes by himself

So he scoots over

"what'cha watching?" he asked, obviously trting6to strike a conversation

Any emotions that were visible on leo's face fell, silence, then he proceeded to answer "space heroes..."

"what's it about?"

"... Its about this space captain that saves galaxies with his team"

"ooooo, just like jupiter jim!"

Leo frowns, and Leon doesn't know why so he decides to lighten it up a bit by explaining what JJ is

"it's a sci-fi space show too! It actually has the same premise of space heros where-"

"CAN YOU NOT -" the shout of leo cuts him off

"huh-"

"So what?! You're gonna replace space heros too? That's what you're gonna do?"

"jeez kid, no need to get so defensive, it's just a tv show-"

"IT'S NOT ABOUT THE SHOW—"

Silence fell heavy on the room after that, leo deciding ro break it

"it's not about the show- it's about- ALL OF THIS! yiu can't just- just waltz in and take the ONE thing i was good at and act like nothing' s going on!"

"leo-"

"Being leader was the onky good thing i had! The only purpose i was able to serve! Raph is the strongest, donnie's the smartest and mikey's the life of the team! But me?! I got NOTHING! sure i can come up with plans, but nothing as precise as donnie's, i can crack jokes but no one laughs at them like they do at mikey's, and i can pull my weigh, but raph can pick all of our weights, the only reason i train hard everyday is so i can keep up with them! And when i finally got something, when i finally have something of my own, you decided to come in and take it! Heck they never listen to me when i talk about space heros, but suddenly they're interested when YOU decide to talk about your stupid jupiter jim, and i kmow for sure that they're not fans of space sci-fi! "

Leo stops as he draws in a deep breath after dropping that shell bomb doing nothing but leaving leon stunned and speechless

"... Who am i kidding, you're the fun Leonardo, everything I'm not and everything they'd want... Of course they'd listen to you..."

Silence is invading the place again before its broken by leo as he gets up, the show he'd been watching long forgotten and abandoned

" j-just leave me alone... You got brothers that would love your company more than mine... Plus I'm pretty boring to hang around with"

And with that he retreated back to his room

Leon just sat there processing everything

These kids need to talk this out, asap

[azzydoesstuff]

Okay, okay, okay. SO. The new ultrakill teaser.

first of all, i want to point out that in dante's inferno, the violence layer... is actually split up into three different circles. and the description of the video on twitter said something about after the garden of forking paths, we enter the first circle...

HMM.

something tells me that the violence layer's gonna be one of the most diverse with its theming, considering the massive jump between 7-1's calm, yet creepy liminal white marble, and 7-2's warzone of a landscape.

also, speaking of violence's circles, in dante's inferno, the first circle of the violence layer has centaurs patrolling it. don't get excited, but... CENTAUR ENEMY MAYBE POSSIBLY!?!?!?!?

ahem, anyways... next thing to talk about: WAR. 7-2 seems to be very related to WAR. i mean, come on. wrecked buildings, big machines looming in the background, bombs falling from the sky?? what is this, world war 3?

well... it might just be so.

Think about it for a second. War. The war. The big war.

THE GREAT WAR.

THE ONE THAT THE TERMINALS TALK ABOUT!!

7-2 has to do with the great war that the terminal entries mention!! how do i know? well, maybe because of the BIG SCARY MACHINES IN THE BACKGROUND.

you can't tell me that's not obviously "great war"-related. as far as we know, the great war was a very robot-centric one, hence the v models being created. well... i think that there was more than just v models and sentries at that war.

Enter the big fellas in the background, and probably a couple more other machines!

Come on. There's no way that the ONLY troops they sent to the GREAT war were sentries (the v models never made it, so they don't even count). There must've been SOMETHING else there, and I'm not talking about just the big background boys, I'm also talking about the things that came outta the bombs at the end of the video.

Oh, yeah, speaking of: The bombs. they landed in front of v1 at the end of the video, but they didn't explode. instead, it seemed like a door opened from them.

i think we can all agree that they're not explosives, but rather drop-pods from the war, which they used to plop machines right into the battlefield.

and if they have enemies in them, surely those enemies will pop out.

well, we don't get to see the enemies that come out of the bombs though. ...or do we? because we DO see something for, like, three frames.

it kinda looked like a train. i don't know if i'm correct, but it looked sort of like the front of a steam train. or maybe it's a shield! what if it's a shield enemy!? it's probably a shield enemy. it was a big rectangle with some grates on them, i think it's a shield enemy probably. it'll probably block your shots like hideous mass does with it's stone shell.

Agh, i don't know. i'm probably just schizophrenic or something and looking way too far into three frames of a video. but whatever.

i think that we can all agree on ONE thing:

whatever hakita could possibly have in store for us, it's DEFINITELY gonna absolutely kick ass.

[eternalnexuswarrior]

Most chaotic MFB Beyblade AU to pop up into my head Part 2: Metal Masters/Fury

Alright, Continuing on from Part 1: Metal Fusion of my what if the legendary Bladers are all telepathically linked together AU. If you don't understand, link to part 1 will be right here: https://www.tumblr.com/eternalnexuswarrior/745518197057404928/most-chaotic-mfb-beyblade-au-to-pop-up-into-my?source=share

Okay then.

Metal Masters is relatively the same. All the battles, all the moments like that. The only two real thing that happen is 1) Ryuga involved in the Dark Tsubasa stuff as soon as they figure it out. Hyoma finds him, but he already is aware of it due to the group telepathy giving him the side commentary.

Gingka: Hey Ryuga? The darkness from L-Drago is possessing Tsubasa. Can you help?

Ryuga: You're not serious.

Kyoya: Nope, it just happened.

Gingka: And he kinda fled the hospital.

Ryuga: Alright, give me a bit to head out and find him

(Later)

Ryuga: When were you guys going to tell me he was in Italy

Kyoya and Gingka: He was in Italy?!

The other major thing, and this leads to the most goofy and chaotic moment, is Kyoya's stupid but good idea. And said idea is to visit Dynamis on Mist Mountain before the African team qualifiers. And the reactions are immediate.

Kyoya: “I got a stupid idea.”

Tithi: “Uh oh.”

Chris: “This should be good.”

Gingka: “Kyoya, let's not be reckless.”

Dynamis: “... For some reason I wanna hear it.”

Chris: “Dynamis!?”

Kyoya: “Where's Mist Mountain located? I'm looking at African qualifiers and I want to see if it's nearby to pop in.”

Gingka, Aguma, and Chris: “What?!”

King: “You can't just casually drop a bomb like that man!

Ryutaro (Again, see first post): “You just broke my cousin here! He is literally shell shocked.

So Kyoya goes a few days ahead of time, meets Dynamis’ family, comes to visit Mist Mountain with Ryutaro, and the first thing he does is give this Boi a hug. Dynamis gets emotional, and also gets a solar powered radio with some good frequency so that he can listen to the battles. Outside of those two Canon follows relatively smoothly.

Part 3 will cover metal Fury as I just found out Tumblr has a word/letter limit. Okay then.

[rayofmisfortune]

I JUST WATCHED IT AND. MY GOD. WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WAS THAT. RUIN- I- I feel so stupid omg. And Solar. GOD SOLAR. Ripped away in a matter of seconds. No one saw it coming, then Ruin dropped a bomb shell on them, AND THEN. He's gone. Just like that. God. I can feel sun and moon's heart breaking through the screen and. Oh god Moon, that broken scream for Solar, I... I felt that. I can barely even process THIS, much less even BEGIN to imagine earth's and lunar's reactions. (1/7)

I'M STILL RECOVERING FROM THAT WHOLE THING I- AAAAH

THE WAY SOLAR JUST- he just- *SOBBING*

PLEASE NO I DON'T WANNA SEE THEIR REACTIONS PLEASE THEY WERE SO CLOSE TO SOLAR PLEASE NO- oh my gosh what about Jack?

I-

I understand where Ruin was coming from... they'd seen how far the Creator Council can go with their projects first hand... pretending to be something sinister for decades just so you can survive has a tol on a person... there's no arguing that.

"They don't like killing people." I'm... i'm not too sure about that honestly... this being... boosted by the fact that in the very same video they admitted to wanting to kill both Sun and Moon at first. THAT was a part of their original plan... plus, during the October takeover, they made SURE to encourage Bloodmoon's thirst for their name sake... I think there were mentiones of them even partaking in this killing??? Or offering to help or something like that..

BUT MY MAIN POINT!

"If I could save you I would." WELL CLEARLY YOU WOULDN'T- sir, in the SAME BREATH YOU SAY YOU WANTED TO KILL SOMEONE GENUINELY CONSIDERED KILLING THEM- and- and you can't go into another dimension to kill the root of your problem? I DOUBT ANYONE WOULD REALLY CARE IF THE CREATOR IN SOLAR'S DIMENSION SUDDENLY DISAPPEARED! Just- if... if Ruin had gone to Solar's dimension (yes, made difficult by only being allowed to access one dimension... BUT- BUT THEY SAID THEMYELF THAT THOSE ARCADES WERE NO UNUSUAL ARCADES! SURELY THEY COULD'VE MADE THEIR OWN PORTAL TO ACCESS OTHER DIMENSIONS???) they could've gotten rid of that Creator... which would put Solar's dimension on the list of those that WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN WIPED! I.. I don't trust a word Ruin says anymore. (I will hold onto au beans with all my heart)

ALSO! Ruin said their dimension was gone? Sir... please do enlighten me as to HOW you're here then huh? How are you still here if your dimension has been eaten by a wither storm hmm? Actually... it may have something to do with that new body... their body was made from parts that originated from the TSBS dimension... but... their backplate was still the same as when they wee ruined... ARGH I DUNNO! THIS LITTLE DETAIL IS DRIVING ME UP A WALL

OOOOHOHO i think the Creator will have surely noticed! He was... awfully interested in Ruin when he found out about them... I still think there's something going on between them... SOMETHING

The "not alive but not dead" think is just... so weird?? I mean if it's a Creator then... THEY'RE STILL BAD NEWS???

Ruin's plan has so many holes it's crazy...

JDNDNC I LOVE READING THROUGH YOUR THOUGHTS SO GOSH DARN MUCH! Expanding my own views by reading and rereading them hehehe

[woodsfae]

Babylon 5 s02e15: And Now for a Word so2 Table of Contents • previous episode

September 16, 2259! Love me a good documentary!

Never not going to be funny to me that G'Kar's actor and Talia Winter's actor have the same given name (Andrea).

This is really not the time for reporters to be harassing personnel for soundbites.

:| and a very fuck you too, Ambassador Mollari.

Love having the dockworkers back!!

"Overall I've found this to be a good working environment. I've learned a lot here. […] Yes, it's a calm, pleasant environment. I don't think I've ever seen anyone get upset here." - random Earthforce personnel, lying like a liar

Stephen Franklin channeling classic, spacephobic McCoy here.

Oh my god, seventeen-year-old Stephen Franklin either accidentally killed his friend hiding in an airlock, or watched his friend accidentally kill himself messing around in an airlock. It's ambiguous, and horrifying either way.

Good trauma story sharing. But for real, how can he even live in space after that? I'm horrified and impressed.

Dang, that's pretty bad. Almost 60 deaths total, multiple bombings, and several narrowly-averted wars. In three years.

Literally idk how G'Kar can keep his composure. The Centauri are war criming like crazy.

This documentary format is actually delightful. I am loving seeing how the actors are choosing to portray their characters being interviewed. It's so fucking fascinating.

Susan Ivanova continues to be The Best.

Garibaldi wants to be bored and to make a difference. I propose that he could make the most difference by not assaulting people or threatening them with his rank.

This reporter isn't very likeable, which makes me wonder if she's going to end up doing something impactful.

"I am a friend, in peace." and then being met with such vitriol and journalistic malfeasance! This reporter sucks!

A hell of a thirty-six hours to happen to arrive to document!

Fuck, can you imagine a space battle going on outside b5's fragile little, punctured shell and being sent to start repairs while unknown, hostile aliens are still fighting outside? Hope they get hazard pay.

Yeah, I'd be tempted to get into a spacesuit.

Narn vs Centauri literally fighting outside B5 is a significant escalation of risk.

G'Kar backstory!! G'Kar's dad served the Centauri and as a punishment for an accident, was killed horribly over days and died in front of G'Kar. That'd drive anyone into resistance, I think! I respect B5 more for calling it a resistance in-universe, especially compared to in DS9 when they repeatedly and insistently called the Bajoran resistance terrorists doing terrorism. The Narns are increasingly impressive the more we learn about them. They went from low tech to occupied to equaling to if not surpassing the Centauri in a hundred years.

"The Narn have rewritten history enough, don't you think? [..] We have to take a stand. They are the ones who declared war, not us. We want only peace."

:| And then drop a Centauri war cruiser to blockade B5.

A commercial for PsiCorps. I have…so much to say about this. tbh, it's better propaganda than the US military recruitment videos I've seen. Hate that the PsiCops might just beam into your house! Did we already know they have teleportation? Or is that just creative license taken by the commercial?

Super uncool how, yet again, a critique of current events in the 90s being equally as relevant to 2023 current events.

Lotta hard stances being taken. Sheridan is so calm under pressure, but it's weirdly believable that he can out-yell the entire council and then go and calmly discuss the likelihood of mortal threats being mere bluffs. Aaaand awkwardly trying not to make eye contact with the camera that's in his line of sight, hah.

eeeee yikes another space battle! Third for the episode, I think.

I wonder how they clean up space debris. Surely they can't leave it to pose a hazard around the station.

Londo is leaning away from the camera a lot while he talks. Can't even buy his own bullshit.

The reporter was so mean and unethical to Delenn, and Delenn is talking to her again anyway. She's too good and her kindness is too calculated to be deterred by a dickish reporter. Plus, I bet the Minbari reporters are way meaner. Instead of being like "You do war crimes!" they'd be like "You should kill yourself so your memory can be less of a stain on your clan's honor than your life is being right now." Still, they made Delenn cry which isn't exactly a fun human experience to have for the first time on camera.

The inspiring peace lecture would be more believable if it wasn't being delivered by the military.

Anyhow, a very fun episode, especially considering how dark the topics were! Babylon 5 is alone in space, very puncturable, and hosting volatile political enemies bound on murder and/or war.

On to the next!

[inky-escapism]

Was peace always this short?

 "How long more do you think we'll have this peace?" Hebaron hics, leaning his forearm on Uslin's head.

"Till the lady gets back, duh" Uslin instinctively replies whilst he held his arm out with his mug, waiting for Riftan to finish filling it.

Pricked by Uslin's swift remark, the refill dried midway as the Lord Commander tilted his head towards the two knights. "So what now? You hate my wife again?"

"No, we hate YOU" pointing his finger at a despondent Riftan, Ruth slurps loudly, "around your wife." Ruth adds on, raising his cup that covered his entire face from Riftan's sight.

"Imagine how much worse it will be when she is back" Gabel snickers, leaning against the fireplace, poking the burning logs.

"What?" Riftan thought inwards, stunned and disenchanted by his closest comrades. He thought after all this time together, they have already accepted his wife into their circle. "Guess I've to work harder." Riftan sighs in his head, nursing his beer.

"Yeah, even before becoming a proper mage... She has already turned him into a blind dog." Hebaron laughs as Uslin giggles.

"He's going to evolve into a blind dragon, when she's back." Gabel's comment sent everyone laughing into the depths.

"You know I'm still in charge of training, right?" Riftan eyed Hebaron on his left and hits the archery knight standing on his right.

"You know that trick's getting old, right." Hebaron huffs, snatching Riftan's cup away and downing it in one gulp.

"Sigh, because we are too." Uslin sighs, sinking his torso onto the chair.

"At least I don't look old" the orange knight shrugs, waving 2 mugs in Elliot’s direction, signalling him to get them more ale.

"Excuse me?" Uslin's sapphire eyes flashed vividly in the room as he harshly flicked nuts on Hebaron.

"Oh, my bad. YOU LOOK OLD, USLIN RIKAIDO." bellows Hebaron picking up the nuts and throwing back at Uslin.

"At least I act my age, Sir Hebaron Nirta" Uslin snarled, shielding his face from peanut shells, while constantly flicking more nuts at Hebaron. 

"If you did, you would have been a father." Hebaron grabs his mug from Eillot as he shoves his hand in Uslin's face. 

That remark turned the room dead quiet as everyone held their breath. Gabel almost dropped the new barrels of ale if not for Ruth's levitation spell. Elliot’s heart skipped 2 beats thinking that he would have to head down to get new kegs. Punishment for being the 1st one out in the prior drinking session. Knowing that only Hebaron could prod Uslin on anything, the crowd switched glances nervously between the two, waiting for Uslin’s reaction.  

"It's called respect. I don't even know her." Finishing his 3rd, Uslin fidgets with his cup, staring into the fireplace.

"Thanks Ruth." Elliot whispers as he took the seat beside the mage, clinking their cups and watching the drama unfold.

"You will if you make the effort. Who abandons their wife for years after getting married?" Hebaron commented, raising his eyebrows on the silent knight.

Upon hearing his comment, Riftan chokes as Ruth and Elliot burst out in tears with Gabel slamming his hands on the fireplace ledge.

"Oops, didn't mean to include you too, my friend." Hebaron pats Riftan on the back.

"Don't come lecture me on treating a lady well. You can't even stick with one." Riftan fights back between coughs.

"I'm too good looking to stick with one. Every lady wants a piece of me." Hebaron shamelessly praised himself, resting his hands on the back of his head.

"You are unbelievable." Uslin shakes his head as he fills his cup.

"See, even you're entrapped." Hebaron clings Uslin's cup and drinks, Uslin pushes him, and he almost spill but doesn’t. Hebaron never wastes alcohol.

"Have you thought of getting married?" Riftan drops a chaotic death bomb on Hebaron with a concerning look.

Gabel spits out his drink directly into the fireplace causing the flames to engorge. Ruth, who was adjusting his folded legs, fell off the chair and unwittingly pulled Elliot down with him. Uslin thew his head backwards whilst laughing so hard, his hair was messy for the first time.

Hebaron annoyed with no one but Uslin, kicked Uslin's chair and broke the leg. But Uslin stabilised the broken chair easily and flashed a cocky look to Hebaron, flaunting his superiority in balance as a knight.

"I don't believe it is a matter of him wanting to get married, but instead, a matter of the availability of ladies who will be deranged enough to want to marry HIM" Uslin pointed his finger in Hebaron’s face.

"Or maybe he can try the men."  Gabel arrowed, as Elliot poured more wine for Ruth and himself.

"Make sense. Where else can you find a lady who likes to drink and get on bed as much?" Uslin teased the “oranger by the minute” vice-commander.  

"I doubt there are many men who can even match him in drinking." Ruth rubs in as he folds his arms holding his cup in thinking mode.

"Isn't that better, the search's been narrowed down." Uslin said with a serious tone.

"Shut up" Hebaron hissed.

"You want to take a second marriage, Riftan?" Uslin asked, trying to control his laughter.

"Go to hell" said them both at the same time.

Unable to stop teasing Hebaron, Gabel managed to stop laughing for a moment. "In all seriousness, my love, (gives smoochy face) ever thought of that?"

"Riftan Calpyse, stop laughing" Hebaron kicks Riftan's shin.

Elliot looks up like a kid, sitting on the floor all along since he fell. "So do you, do you?"

"Say I do, say I do" Uslin teases in a high pitch as Ruth leaks out some wine from his lips, not able to contain his laughter.

Annoyed at all of them now, Hebaron quaffed down another cup and kicked Gabel’s chair away before he could sit down beside him.  

Despite the pain in his ass, Gabel looks up and the assignment to tease Hebaron continues "So what's your type? How hot? Hourglass?"

"Tall girl? Brunette? Blonde? Blue eyes?" Uslin adds on, continuing the momentum.

"Eww, not you. and you say you're not smitten with me?" Hebaron winks at a taken aback Uslin.

"Buzz off..." Uslin hissed, shooting Hebaron with a disgusted look.

Joining in, Riftan threw in more novel details "He likes girls who are crazily independent, strong and tough-willed. You know, some girl who can pick a fight with him and not back down."

"RIFTAN CALPYSE!" Hebaron shouts and stands up from his seat, feeling the waves of betrayal from his closest companion "I'm gonna spill yours too if you keep this up!"

"So Hebaron has the same taste as you?" Gabel hurls at Riftan who stopped laughing at once. Elliot super entertained, Uslin over the moon and Ruth cannot stop coughing while laughing.

"Well, shall I project it?" Ruth waddled towards Hebaron, cracking his fingers, about to conjure something.

“I will give you a free 5-day time off from the infirmary at the infirmary.” Hebaron swats Ruth’s hands away from his head.  

A creak from the door silenced the laughter that was flowing through the room. Maxi was back.

"Was peace always this short?" Uslin hic at a confused Maxi.

The cold glare from his Lord Commander silenced the room further. Feeling his glare, Uslin put his cup down and raises both his hands up, knocking his way out of the room with the rest of the team. Carrying each other’s weight with each other, the quintet looked like 4 kids trying to hold onto their drunk father with the 220cm knight in the middle.

[devouring-hive]

"Pink!" A familiar, slightly garbled voice echoes through the air as a hulking woman approaches on black tethers. "What are you doing?!"

...The vomit must have told me off. Damn this sickness, damn this poison- Damn my fucking--

The Red Armour of my Father's retracts, as my cat-like Pink Goblin armour sheds his old carapace like an insect sheds its outgrown shell. I'll pick it up again later, or rebuild it, it doesn't matter. I can't be caught, not now, I've only just started. I need the speed.

I don't respond to her. My glider takes off away as I drop a claw bomb into a mass of people, shivering in my shell as my armour rewards the bliss of spreading my anger with another dosage.

My vision is getting blurry, I've dosed so much I barely know where I am, but it doesn't matter.

Another claw bomb, not at the civilians this time though- Launched by a wrist-mounted sling at the Virus seeking to sicken me again.

[zillyeh]

Turned Tides

Technically an immediate precursor to this drabble. only cws i can really give is talks of bombing towards the end, lmk if i need to add anything here<3 Synopsis: Around 150 sweeps ago, Heiress Halosa Delhon discuss what to do with the den of rebels in the north of Delhon city, with the added input of some unfortunate guests.

Your heavy footsteps echo across the marble castle floors. The mere sound of your approach had always been enough to quiet a room, but since the execution? A pin could drop upstairs and you could hear it. You almost miss her air headed giggling as she draped herself over the throne.However.

You admit that you prefer what it's done to Heiress Halosa.

She sits motionless on her throne. Hollow. She is a shell of the Delhon you knew. You'd behead Bridal again just to watch the light leave Halosa's eyes.  

The heiress did not wear her mourning whites for long. She was already back to her caped fleet uniform. The golden rank pauldrons sat spiky and and important on her shoulders. They glinted with the rest of the gold inlaid in her uniform in the jade and pink moonlight. Even this subtle combination of colors bouncing on her lap seemed to be grimming her already sour expression.

You greet her with a kneeling bow. 

"Your highness," you say. She hardly moves but to flick her wrist- an instruction to stand. 

"Steris," she says, the gravel of her voice deeper than you've ever heard it. "Approach. We don't have time for a round table. Visitors."

"Visitors?" you ask incredulously, climbing the short few steps to her side. "Now?" A quiet Delhon castle is a Delhon castle in shambles. To bring in others before you get a moment with her is… inconvenient. For you.

"They have a solution for me." Her voice is robotic. Halosa is running low on willpower. Anyone but you would think she’s just as hard as ever, but you can see her foundations beginning to crack. Mentioning Bridal in just the right way could break her, bend her to your whims, but you need her alone.

She hums, shifting in her seat. With an unenthusiastic flourish, she bangs her serpentine scepter on the ground. The ornate main doors of the throne room open, and the quartet of trolls that enter makes your thin lip curl.

They aren't clowns of yours, but they are clowns. Masked laughsassins with Enfaris' signature gaudy frills, all except for the tall elder in the front of them. He was certainly as Enfarian as the rest, but he had the decency to mute his colors and show his face. His paint was obnoxiously intricate- they have so much time for it don't they?- and did work to fill the deep lines of his face. His hair fell around his face in thin, tight braids, beaded in green and red at the ends.

"Your 'ighness," he greets. The phlegmy yet airy dust of his accent on those two words alone make your skin crawl. The beads in his hair clatter softly as he shifts. He bares his throat in place of bowing. Whatever ailment requires his cane seems to prevent his fellows from dropping to the floor as well. Disrespectful.

"Father Jortis, I take it?" Halosa asks, not looking for an answer. "I apologize for having no announcer to your entrance. It is no secret that my court is in unacceptable disarray. Please, speak."

"It is quite alright, Madame Delhon," Jortis says, gripping the cane in front of him. You do not hide your grimace when you realize it has a honking horn at the handle. 

"My church received most disturbing news from someone in zis province," he continues, "A rather eloquent plea for assistance. I 'ave an embarrassment of my own you see: in short a few, shall I say incorrectly zealous of our church stole some of our‐ qu'est que ce- 'idden members. I am to believe their fleeing brought zem 'ere, based on my informant's descriptions."

"This should be our priority why exactly?" You can't see his angle. You don't like that. "What do you mean by hidden-"

Halosa puts up a hand again. 

"You will be addressed when you are addressed, Steris." She can't make her voice sound as scary as it used to be. Regardless, you shut your mouth, narrowing your eyes at the clowns in front of you. 

"My advisor does make a fair point, Father. You bring this to me now for the reasons I hope you do, yes?"

Jortis nods once.

"Not zat I would be so brazen as to peek into your mind, but I believe so. My informant claims to 'ave been abducted by rebels and forced to labor for zem- ones zat match ze description of my missing flock."

"Fascinating," you say, having never shut up for long before this. "Is your little informant with us tonight, Enfarian?"

"'E should be," Jortis says easily, catching you off guard. His aloofness to your own disrespect annoys you. Enfarians are so difficult to rile. "If 'e manages to-"

The doors behind the troupe open again, spilling in the last person you'd ever thought you'd see in Delhon's throne room. The guards who escort him in look like they can't get their hands off him fast enough.

"Ninefingers?" You almost can't believe your eyes. He looks genuinely afraid in a way you've never seen the Exacerbator look. He wrings his lopsided hands, warily moving beside the quartet of clowns before dropping to a bow for the Heiress.

"Your highness," he says with a shake in his voice. Closer you can see barely healed scars on his arms, and a bruise under his eye. His first finger has been replaced with something made of… wood? How barbaric. His curly hair had been pulled back tight. He looks even smaller than he already is without his mane. Crushable underfoot or under ax.

Halosa signals for him to get up, casting a wary eye at you. You step forward. He winces.

"I should strangle whatever information you have out of you, Aarika." You crack your knuckles, but Jortis and Halosa both put their arms out to keep you two from each other.

"Vionyi, fucking behave or I will force you to leave."

"Yeah, okay."

Halosa stands. She strikes you across the mouth hard enough to reverberate through the high-ceilinged hall. You swallow the bit of blood in your mouth, clenching your fists. Oh how you hate fighting the urge to do something back. Tears sting at your eyes, but you are well practiced in biting back pain. Closing your clear false lids also helps.

"We can have this conversation over your corpse if need be," she says, some of the real danger in her voice back. You grit your teeth, the hand shaped print on your face stings. Hard. 

"I apologize for my insolence, your highness," you say through tight lips. "I shall not let my emotions get the better of me again."

For a split second, you think you catch a smug little smirk on Aarika's face.

"If I may-," Aarika speaks up with the well practice shake of a fearful child. Halosa seats herself again. "I apologize as well for my- everything. My unacceptable transgressions against the Empire, what I assume is a nasty scar on the back of your leg-" You want to kill him. Never in your life have you had to contain it quite this much. Cleaving him in two would only be the start. "-all of it is my fault. After those pirates took me from- kept me under the deck until I was so wound up and starved that I-" he interrupts himself with a sob. Jortis places a hand on his shoulder. Pathetic. This was what had become of Exacerbator Ninefingers? 

"I- sometimes I feel like I'm still not fully come to. I'm sorry. That's not what I'm here for. Please forgive me." He clears his throat, shaking as he finds his composure. "When they landed last they took me here. Taking to the rebel groups. The Underground practically found him- us first."

"The Underground?" Halosa seems interested. That was your pet project for sweeps. He's going to take this from you, right under your nose. Or lack thereof.

He nods. "There’s a church, on the north side of the city. They call it the-" he shudders, as if remembering something terrible, "-the church of the Reverent. That's what they call their leader. He and a handful of others are Enfarian. You can hear it- and I've overheard things-"

Jortis seems to think that Aarika's frantic ramblings are enough. 

"I would like your permission to retrieve ze 'eads of my missing flock, your 'ighness," he says, gesturing back to his laughsassins. Ah. That's what they were there for.

"Infiltration is incredibly difficult," Aarika interjects. "There are tunnels they will use to evacuate at even the slightest hint of smoke, the-"

"Old snake tunnels, I am familiar," Halosa says, more lively than you've seen her in weeks. Ugh. "Do you know them well enough to block them off?"

He hesitates, but nods.

"They could be… encouraged to certain routes."

Halosa turns her gaze to Jortis.

"How much time would it take you, Jortis?"

"Twenty minutes if we linger," he says. His little trio of freaks nod in unison. Aarika looks just as uncomfortable as you feel with them. The welts he came in with are slower to fade than you thought they'd be. Exacerbator Ninefingers had been rumored to heal as fast as you could cut him, but you suppose not all pirate tales are true.

You are very aware of the chunk he cut out of your thigh as you stare him down. He balks under your scrutiny, reluctantly leaning towards the subjugs. You want to find something, anything about him that you can use to get him dead. His crimes against the Empire are enough, but if he uses this leverage to beg for his life now? After giving up the location to the biggest thorn in Delhon’s side?

Halosa was far too weak not to let him have it.

"If you intend to do this, I would suggest you do it soon," he says, freaky teeth moving as he speaks. "They are intending to mobilize somewhere- I'm unsure where, I would assume further north to disperse into the woods, or south to integrate into the city."

"Two very different directions," Halosa hums.

“That is by design, your highness,” Aarika says with a solemn nod. “They listen to me about… tactics. They know who I was, not who I am. I will do anything in my limited power to make sure that the one who stole your m-”

He stopped himself with a hand over his mouth, looking like he fully expected Halosa to strike him down. You wish she would. She sits up straighter in her seat, the hardness of a several thousand year old war-ender back in her eyes. When she speaks again it is a demand.

“Who stole my...”

“The unspeakably blooded rebel who stole your beloved, your highness.” Aarika dropped to the floor again in another bow. He was really laying it on thick, though you must begrudgingly admire his commitment to keeping his neck and his head attached. “You must know she is one of the Enfarians in that church. It’s where-”

“Enough.” Now Halosa Delhon’s voice was a thundercrack, reverberating off the walls louder than when she’d slapped you. “Father, you can personally see to the unmerciful, gruesome end of your ex flock?” Jortis nodded. Aarika looked up, still frightened, but for a moment the mask slipped to unfettered glee. You would see his teeth pulled out of his face and reintroduced into his eyesockets if you could. 

“Unmercifully shall tack on an ‘andful’s worth of minutes, but it can be done, easily. One of our riders has a vested interest in seeing at least one of zem dead. If I understand correctly, it is the very same.” Riders. They would have taken one of their noodly, violent dragons here. Enfarians have them to spare for every law enforcer over there. You wonder which of his troupe it is. If they aren’t out tending to it.

The shadow of a smile finds itself creasing the severe lines around Halosa’s mouth. This is bad for you. If they can just kill their leaders and get the few spies stationed to get the more egregious mutants, your position as her tactician is practically-

“Steris,” she says, alive. You stiffen. “You had plans for the city north, did you not?”

Is she serious?

“Your highness?”

“To simply kill the perpetrators of so much strife against my city is not enough,” she says cooly, rehearsing words you’d spoken to her already almost verbatim. “The rats nest must be wiped out, lest more vermin crop up. Wouldn’t you agree?”  

Something in the way you shift almost makes Aarika snort. You feel almost lightheaded. Is this truly happening? This is one of the best nights of your life. Aarika and the foreign clowns at the edge of your vision be damned, she’s actually going to go through with it.

“Of course, your highness,” you say breathlessly, “An example should be made to the rest of the city- rest of the province that you-”

“Won’t stand for this behavior from our citizens,” she finishes for you. “Contact Felzee and the other two, tell them they’ll have thirty minutes. Anyone else you find terribly important as well. Everyone else figures it out when the drones come.”

You give her a short nod.

“Shall we be walling off the rest of the city then?” She nods in return. Her control over Delhon’s drones could rival even the Empress. Shielding off just the north side would be nothing.

“Get Ninefingers to mark a map for you and Jortis.” You grimace, and he winces at being mentioned by name. ��I will offer you one singular favor, Amillo Aarika, aside from sparing your life.” 

Of course she would.

Fucking of course she would.

That won’t sour your mood. Aarika could ask for a room in the castle and you’d still be over the moons. This is your idea, she’s listened to you, you are getting everything you wanted to do to that hole and more.

“A floor of the greenhouse tower in the center city,” Aarika says as if he’d been expecting this. “If you would be so generous. I- I want my life to be simple, all I’ve ever really wanted is to make-”

“I don’t care. It will be done. All of you come with me. This must be done now.”

When she stands, turning her back to your company, something in Aarika changes, shifts ever so slightly that you barely catch it. His shake stops. He seems more relaxed. He catches your eye and flashes you a smile, which you meet with a sneer. You know then that he’s also just gotten exactly what he wanted. Even if it doesn’t seem like much, you and he are united in this one desire- to see north Delhon torched.

That doesn’t sit well with you, but you have to ignore it. Right now you have a city to raze.

[smonk-wonk]

if your not arab and not israeli the conversation isn't about you. you don't have to worry about hamas from where you live

Imagine if we applied that logic to literally anything else. "Slavery? If you're not a slave owner or a slave in the USA stfu. Holocaust? If you're American why do you even care??? BLM? Stay out of it if you're not black! Stop Asian Hate? Hm you don't look Asian though! Why do you care about the Ukraine that's between them and Russia!" the conversation is about me because I'm human and its occurring on my planet but also because my country is responsible for supplying the bombs being dropped on civilians. The cutesy little messages on the bomb shells might mostly be written by Israel, but it's alongside the labels of US weapons manufacturers.

I also wouldn't be worrying about Hamas if I were literally anywhere because they're not out to get me, they're not going guns blazing firing bunker busters and white phosphorus over civilian areas. The occupation was a threat long before October 7th and before Hamas existed.

You know something interesting? I've never seen an oppressed group or one genuinely being targeted tell people to stay out of it. I've seen so so many people in support of the occupation say to stay out of it, it's not your fight, etc. But I have not seen one Palestinian say it. I can't speak for the feelings of those I have not seen express them but while I've seen Palestinians rightfully call out those on the wrong side of history, I've yet to see one tell anyone to look away because that's just as deadly.

Someone saying "it's not my problem so I'll look away" helps the side committing the war crimes. If you walk by and see a bunch of guys robbing a bank it sure helps them a lot more if you say you saw nothing than it's helping the hostages they're killing. The ones being killed will say "what the hell are you doing? Help us why are you walking away?? And why is that guy giving the robbers more weapons what the fuck??" but they will never tell you to shut up and walk away like you saw nothing

So it's a little fuckin weird whenever I hear someone say to look the other way as those people tend to be on the wrong side of history. Like every time