#and taking out the pity system is just so vile

[neriyon]

I'm still like the only person in the WTMH tag here but felt like it'd be better to share this thread from within the game's own socmed.

Pretty grim to read - definitely noticed how weird the inventory expansion system was and how they have one of the worst gachas I've ever seen, but never really expected that the company in charge of global servers would just flat out cut features? And lie about it :/

[jozor-johai]

Ned has this small speech in AGOT Bran I about why he must behead Gared, and I think there's some really interesting takeaways. Not about why he must do it, the part he focuses on; the part Ned doesn't focus on: why it's legal, and what that means for Gared.

"Do you understand why I did it?" "He was a wildling," Bran said. "They carry off women and sell them to the Others." His lord father smiled. "Old Nan has been telling you stories again. In truth, the man was an oathbreaker, a deserter from the Night's Watch. No man is more dangerous. The deserter knows his life is forfeit if he is taken, so he will not flinch from any crime, no matter how vile.

Ned moves our attention along to why Ned had to be his own headsman, but in just a few sentences here, we've been introduced to the paradox of law that makes this system so fundamentally unjust and broken.

We're told that "no man is more dangerous" than this deserter, so we might think, for a split second, that Ned feels he must kill the man because he is dangerous. But as Ned points out, the logic is actually the reverse: "he knows his life is forfeit if he is taken, so he will not flinch from any crime" (emphasis mine). It is not the prevalence of crime that is creating the demand for law, here, it's the existence of this extreme law that is generating the crime. Not wanting to be killed, the deserter would do anything to survive.

For Ned, the epitome of law in the North, who literally acts as judge, jury, and executioner, the tautology of the reasoning is irrelevant. The man is dangerous, now, whatever the situation. Of course, for Ned it's also really about an adherence to the laws of the Night's Watch, which is an institution as old as his house. It's their death sentence to declare, his to pass.

This time reading it, though, I was struck by how Ned's words here are an inversion to Septon Meribald's broken man speech, which is too long to relay here but ends with this:

"He turns and runs, or crawls off afterward over the corpses of the slain, or steals away in the black of night, and he finds someplace to hide. All thought of home is gone by then, and kings and lords and gods mean less to him than a haunch of spoiled meat that will let him live another day, or a skin of bad wine that might drown his fear for a few hours. The broken man lives from day to day, from meal to meal, more beast than man. Lady Brienne is not wrong. In times like these, the traveler must beware of broken men, and fear them . . . but he should pity them as well."

Septon Meribald is describing Gared here, just as much as he's describing the men at war. There isn't a mention here directly of the threat of punishment for desertion, which is more extreme with the Night's Watch than elsewhere, but the reality is the same. Here, though, Meribald's approach is entirely different than Ned's—Meribald, who walks among the smallfolk and gives away what good he can offer, has a much more understanding and empathetic view of these men.

Ned has the capacity for this understanding, but his role is simply not to have kindness here. All of the goodness and kindness Ned has otherwise just doesn't matter here, because here Ned is the law, and Ned is a lord still.

With the fact that even Ned is given this treatment, we see how rigid and unjust the laws and class structures are here. Even a "good person" is not good in Ned's position.

I think this highlights the cause behind the growing smallfolk unrest throughout the books and especially in Feast/Dance. Even the good lords, the ones who can see the problems at work here, are still lords, and still hold themselves to the status quo that keeps them in power above all else. And it takes a very different perspective—like the kind Arya has gotten, for example—to see it the way Meribald does. (Though Arya has gone the opposite route away from forgiveness... that's interesting too.)

[bibibbon]

MHA chapter 426

4 more chapters until MHA ends and wow!!!

Honestly this chapter was mainly the conclusion of the todoroki family arc which I still hate how it played out and ended. The whole todoroki family NOT INCLUDING ENJI deserves so much better than what horikoshi gave them.

Hawks is the new HPSC leader?!?! I feel like the system should of just been destroyed considering how much it hurt everyone and hawks by no means has any proper character development to take this role. Hawks hasn't really broken down his flawed beliefs or truly developed from his mentality that ended up getting one of the most redeemable league of villains members aka twice killed. Also he barely reflects on his actions and all of this feels so underwhelming and unprepared for.

Todoroki family deserves better. The ABSLOUTELY vile ending the todoroki family received is horrible like I really feel like they should just runaway and live in a house without endeavour and actually take up on endeavours attornment bs. Like the only one who gets it is natsou who has every right to live with his girlfriend and keep her far away from that environment and oh my Rei deserves so much better both narratively and by the fandom.

Enji still sucks. Yeah I can't lie nothing this man can do can make me like him and it doesn't help that hori has written all of those retcons to humanise him and make him pitiful. I feel like when it came to the todoroki family arc enji took on a whole lot of screentime WHICH HE SHOULDNT OF!!! That should of gone to shoto and the rest of the family and an easy way to fix it is to simply have killed enji in the first war arc (as was initially planned but hori changed it later on) ALSO I SAY LET TOUYA REST AT THIS POINT!!! having him just mechanically alive and stuck is horrible honestly I think that death is much more of a merciful fate for him at this point.

So lady nagant chose to go to jail?!?! Her reasoning for it is actually so sad though and it really shows how much hero society traumatised her. Like the woman didn't want to be free so she can't be used by anyone and would rather spend time in prison over it. I wish that she was hawk's mentor from the begining because the vibe those two give is absolutely amazing and it would enhance the parallels and relationship they have if they were. Honestly I hope hawks actually does a good job but Iam still all for the destruction of hero society and I doubt hawks is actually going to reform it properly also the hero society is so deeply flawed that I don't think there is a proper way to reform more like just scratch everything out and start fresh.

Spinner is back. I hope I don't see him have a breakdown when he realises what happend to the league because I can't handle that. Also that begs the question I thought that spinner had become somewhat brain dead after all he's been through so how did he turn back from being a giant nomu?

I can't handle the sibling angst too bad that touya and shoto didn't have a better arc. The whole shoto trying to know touya better and him revealing that soba is also his favourite food softens my heart. In another universe where enji doesn't get a redemption touya gets one while justice is served to the todoroki family.

Gentle criminal and la brava getting justice. (The only good part of the chapter fr)

in conclusion this chapter was horrible if we look at it from a story perspective due to how badly MHAs already established plot points and themes are handled!!!

Also what happend to the random character in the last chapter!!! I hope we get closure on that soon

[evilkennedy]

dearly departed

pairing: chreon; chris redfield/leon kennedy

summary: lightly based off of this post https://twitter.com/lemonzzset/status/1680325153362673664?s=46&t=RNnErR_y_jTq_osclRMtfQ

leon’s fight with maria goes very differently. no actual spoilers for death island.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: death, blood, hurt/no comfort, just angst

Blinding, white hot pain seared through Leon’s chest and he immediately knew that he’d messed up. He’d taken one wrong step, didn’t move out of the way of Maria’s strike quick enough– He knew that he was in shock, wound going numb soon after impaling him, though he knew by the way his lungs burned, that it was fatal. He could practically feel the blood pooling unnaturally in the organs, shutting down his respiratory system way sooner than he could’ve ever prepared for. Even as the blood seeped from the wound, leaking from around the rebar that stuck out from his chest, the same bitter copper bubbling in the back of his throat, threatening to choke him even as he spat it out; The only person that was on his mind was Chris. He couldn’t leave him this way… couldn’t leave only a corpse of the man he’d loved for so long, so faithfully– He couldn’t do that to his husband. So even as Maria taunted him, spewing vile words about how she’d won, how she’d been able to avenge her father, Leon simply grit his teeth, holding onto whatever life he still had left with all of his remaining strength.

Somewhere within the haze of being injured, Maria had taken her leave, leaving him standing against the wall, large hands pressing against his chest desperately as though it was enough to stop the bleeding, as though his willpower alone would be enough to stop the bleeding. He knew better than to shift or move, knowing how quickly he’d drown in the crimson liquid still spilling from his lips if he’d decided to do so. Instead, he remained put, hoping to whatever could hear him that Chris wouldn’t be the one to discover his body. He knew that he’d never been so lucky, but a dying man needed to have some hope, even if it was futile.

There was a time when Leon would’ve welcomed death with open arms, earlier on in his life when he felt beyond hopeless, almost as though he were a bad omen to those around him, those that he cared about most. He’d lived a life of war, gunpowder and melancholy, all branded on his soul as though he were meant for the pain, as though his purpose was merely to serve, whether that be as a weapon or a good soldier, he wasn’t too sure. Now, that differentiation didn’t particularly matter, not when he’d tasted the saccharine divinity of the other’s lips, knew what it felt like to be loved– He knew now what it felt like to be seen, in a way he’d never been seen before. To Chris, he’d been gentle and kind… awkwardly funny and insanely smart for his own good. He never understood what Chris had seen in him, but it was too late to ask, too late to see himself as a man repented from sin. Time was against him and he was beginning to think he wouldn’t be able to apologize for his inadequacies as the pendulum slowed, slowing his mind right along with it as waves of white noise consumed his being entirely, forcing his fluttering eyelids closed as he lost his battle with consciousness.

–

“Hold on, where’s Leon?” Chris looked between the three women, somehow expecting them to know any more than he did, but they all gave him the same look, something akin to pity and uncertainty. It tasted bitter in the back of his throat, forcing him to bite back a curse as his deep brown eyes met his sister’s.

“Go find him, we’ve got this.” Claire gave him the smallest nod of reassurance, sending him off with a worried gaze as the rest of the group prepared for whatever was to come. This wasn’t over yet, that was all they knew.

The elder man didn’t think twice before turning on his feet, taking off to find his husband, mind racing a million miles a minute. Out of the pair, Chris had always been the more optimistic of the two. Honestly it was admirable how he could remain so hopeful in a place where he’d lost so many people, had consistently blamed himself for those losses, flashes of Piers and a brainwashed Jill entered his mind, right alongside his ex-captain, not that he’d had any say in the man’s corruption, but guilt had a weird way of settling into people’s chests at the most inopportune moments– Chris was certainly bound by those same chains regardless of the hope that remained steadfastly in place.

All he could hear as he ran through the prison was the slamming of boots on metal and the sound of his own blood raging in his ears. It didn’t take long to find the room in which Leon had been, Maria having left plenty of evidence of their fight even beyond the doors of the room. He had his gun drawn, as was appropriate when he didn’t exactly know what he’d be walking into, “Leon?” He called out, heart dropping at the lack of response. His terrified thoughts increased tenfold, what if he’d been kidnapped, what if he’d been infected again, what ifs rolling through his mind in waves, threatening to drown him if he wasn’t careful. He steadied himself, continuing forward into the room, sweeping it as he’d been trained to do. When all else fails, he could always depend on the stability of muscle memory.

Before he could call out the man’s name once again, he turned the corner of some debris that had been laying in the middle of the walk space, eyes immediately landing on a pool of blood before trailing their way up to find a very familiar set of boots standing directly in it, unmoving and horribly devastating as ice assaulted his veins, filling him with tangible fear. His head shot up before he could think better of it, throat constricting at the sight of his husband impaled by a metal bar, head tilted forward against his will, brown fringe covering up his face. For one nightmarishly long second, his world stopped, knees threatening to cave beneath his weight as his hands trembled, dropping the gun to the ground beneath him before his feet began moving on their own accord.

It felt like it had only been moments before when they’d been finishing each other’s sentences, always connected on the field just as they’d been connected in life and by love. Something neither of them could’ve ever expected, and the reason why was staring him directly in the face– safety was never promised, even if Leon didn’t wish to die anymore. Even though he’d gotten better, or tried, he’d still been ripped away from Chris’s grasp without hesitation.

“No, no, no, no, no, no– Leon, baby, please wake up. Please don’t do this to me.” His large hands flitted across the man’s still chest, not knowing where to begin with first aid if he’d still been alive. Deep down, he knew that Leon was gone, he knew that, but he wasn’t going to accept it easily. This time, his hands moved up to cradle his head, making him lean lax against the wall behind him. He was cold to the touch, paler than any man he’d ever seen before and the dam broke. He was supposed to keep him safe, he’d made that vow to him many years ago, to keep him safe from himself as well as the monsters that haunted their day to day lives– the ones that burrowed their way into their psyches in the night, Chris made a fucking promise; One he knew he’d broken as he held Leon’s lifeless corpse, tears streaming down his face freely as he desperately caressed his cheeks, similar to how he’d woken the man up for ages, in fear of startling him awake. Oh, how he wished that would have been the case this time.

“Leon, I can’t– I can’t do this without you, dammit– Y-You have to wake up, okay? I know you’re tired and I know you’ve been in this fight for too long, but I need you. I need you, so just… just stop this and open your eyes, baby, open them for me.” He cried, knowing that his begging was futile. The words were falling on ears that could no longer listen. He knew that, he did, but they were supposed to grow old together. He was supposed to listen to Leon gripe about each new gray hair he got… They were supposed to adopt once they retired, they were supposed to settle down together and be proud that they’d kept the world safe for so long, but what was there for him now? He’d return to an empty home, an empty bed, followed by the ghost that was the curse of his love– his care.

He reluctantly slid a hand down the other’s jaw, two fingers resting on his pulse point only to confirm his deepest fear. Leon was dead and there was nothing he could do about it.

Not caring about the blood that had long since dried on his body, Chris buried his face in his neck, crying as he held the man around his waist. He knew that he should get him down off of the pole, he knew he should’ve radioed for help, should’ve done something more, but all he could do was mourn as he held his life in his arms, what remained of his heart had frozen and died here too. He didn’t move until Claire found him and pulled him away. Everything after was a blur and all he could remember was begging for his love to stay and cursing at the sky for taking away his hope.

[the-rainbow-lesbian]

the small group of blackpilled lesbians on radblr get talked about all the time and I see so many osa radfems trying their absolute hardest to drive them off radblr yet this energy is never used when it comes to racists and homophobes/lesbophobes. like radblr hates the mean lesbians so much but they’re all too happy to reblog/interact/be besties with racists and lesbophobes. Tbh I don’t even like the blackpilled group & think some of the stuff they’re doing is absolutely disgusting but why is that a bigger problem for radblr than women who actually have systemic privilege over some of us being racist/lesbophobic like 🧍🏿‍♀️

because radblr is a fucking joke and it’s more of a social club than any tangible feminist movement and like that’s to be expected because this is tumblr and we are all anonymous and it doesn’t take a lot for someone to put “radfem” on her bio and suddenly we make assumptions about who she is and what she believes, but hostility towards lesbians and woman of color is not unique to this space unfortunately and anytime you try to call it out it’s just “drama” and “infighting” because these women don’t want to engage in any meaningful way with other women in a way that helps them reflect on their own views and actions, instead they martyr themselves “woe is me I have been burned at the stake like a heretic for being a straight woman” and I just roll my fucking eyes because you know this person has no intention of actually being an ally to other women, open themselves to challenging world views and possibly engage in any feminist meaningful action. and where is that meaningful feminist action anyways? radfems are already a small group of women and mainstream feminism is just rebranding the patriarchy to make it seem appealing. it’s true we would face a lot of opposition but so did every feminist movement that forced real change for women’s rights.

honestly anon, I am afraid. women in the west might have been deluded into thinking they achieved a post-feminist world (because women who suffer the most specially in the sex industry are carefully made invisible) but it doesn’t take a lot for our rights to be taken away like Roe v Wade, specially when men are becoming increasingly more violent when they are not guaranteed a wifemaidmother like before where women had no options but to rely on men. everyday they are getting radicalized with the most vile rhetoric and we just pretend that it’s not happening and I am worried by the time we do wake up to it will be too late. so yeah I am so fucking exhausted of seeing “radfems” complain about nonsensical thing like “stop being heterophobic 🥺” they don’t care about themselves and women in their own countries let alone women in the global majority unless they want to fake admiration (Asian feminists) or pity them without doing anything meaningful, worse even using them to shut us down.

[wtfcraigslistnyc]

I’m back motherfuckers!! YES!!! To the roots of where this whole sorted mess began.. CRAIGSLIST… Life has handed me some of the sweetest cherries via CRAISGSLIST. I can’t ever quit you….

This first foray back to the OG art form comes to us from some DOUCHE in VIRGINA… It’s not just for LOVERS apparently. Having spent a fair amount of time in the mid-atlantic region I feel connected to this world this strange query springs from… ENJOI 12.6.23

CHRISTMAS ELF…

It’s really profound what the human mind is capable of. Curing cancer, overcoming tremendous adversity, dragging what’s left of your body after a bear mauls you… But other times the mind wanders in the cold, bleak, dark of winter. The walls close in and everyone begins to look like a bucket of KFC that complains too much. So the wheels spin and land on a very intuitive and obvious solution as you drift across the sewage treatment plant liquid surface of the modern popular cultural zeitgeist.

One can only try to imagine the wretched and pitiful mind that would solicit another human for their sick holiday fun….

WILL FARRELL!!! OF COURSE!!! ELF!!!

My cheating wife and asshole children will be so goddam stoked on this utter tidal wave of yuletide inspiration. Nothing will prepare them for the TRAPPED IN THE CLOSET-esque reveal I have on deck for them all…

The whole concept actually appeared in a fever dream as I took a stroll down memory lane to revisit my old childhood haunts of the web… EBAUM'S BABY!!! All the most vile stuff really. It brought me back to the time of dial up and TUB GIRL. Of lesser and greater evils I may or may not have been privy to.

The issue is that I know my dog is gonna rape the ELF… It’s the ELEPHANT in the room really.

BUSTER has been really not adjusting well to any of the many hurdles we’ve presented him with. First, we switched him from a VEGAN, non protein based diet. This caused our beloved pup to really take a turn for the worse almost instantly. His poor canine rectum became a fire hydrant of angry, hateful excrement. He seemed to charge at passing cars with what little life force remained, chasing his own death like a ball sadly…

Thankfully we found a DOGGIE LIFE COACH who really set us straight on the path of nothing but freshly butchered chicken and raw veg. His stools are now like baseballs, one saves in a bin and are carefully burned over the winter months to warm the family at our cabin in the stix…

The unfortunate byproduct of this new vigor BUSTER’s meat infused doggie heart is that he basically tries to penetrate ANY creature that he perceives as a possible for him to mount and dominate.

We found out the hard way… The kids had just come back from school. I was busy cutting brush out back with our gardener… Lord knows his idle hands won’t execute my desires if I’m not there to micro-manage each and every gesture of his hands.

The sound made JUAN and myself quite concerned. The state has advised me not to really provide any other details as the investigation is still pending. I think that in the end everyone will come out on the other side of this unfortunate misunderstanding far more cognisant of BUSTER’s potential for solo doggie breeding supremacy.

We take him to a place now. JUAN introduced us to the guy. He refuses to tell me his name because he says I have a big mouth and will make problems if I know it. He’s got a system where two times a week I drop off BUSTER and he lets him just pound all these dogs making more of his ilk to populate the gene pool. The guy is giving me a really good deal on this dog therapy. BUSTER is much more manageable now that his balls are drained of the hateful poison that bubbles like molten lava…

I’ve already hired a gregarious fella named AL to be the ELF. I actually held “AUDITIONS” in my minivan at the mall. AL was the only one to swallow and that goes a very long way in my book. He didn’t even complain about the ether fumes that engulfed the cabin of the van as I let my drippy rag make me forget why I had a little person blowing me at WALMART, nibbling on a churro….

AL says he has a lot of mascott experience which is going to be very important…. The guy who helps keep BUSTER chill, is on holiday for the next month and as such he left him with a rubber dog we chained up next to his kennel… The poor thing is barely intact and it’s only been a couple of days.

I see this whole holiday ELF reveal meets my psycho dog extravaganza going one of two ways… AL will be smiling counting his money driving home… AL spends the holidays chilling as BUSTER’s bitch in the kennel waiting for the “BONUS” I keep telling him is gonna be life changing and super sweet… It’s yet another YULETIDE MIRACLE.

[nozomijoestar]

9, 10, 13 & 16

@scalproie | meme

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9. worst part of canon

I can't stand a work that is lazy, where it's evident it's full of itself. Works that talk a lot and get pretentious a lot but have nothing to say; double if they're trying to rip off/homage other works that used their tools better, as if wearing someone's skin alone makes you as capable and just like them. Basically too much ego and too much capitalist dick sucking, work that doesn't allow itself to show or have vulnerability, that key part of raw humanity. Something that is about Man but not A Man, and has lost any hope of having a universal message or feeling or even aesthetic connection as a result. Something that wants to make everyone happy and ends up reinforcing vile behavior or oppressive systems because in trying to appeal to everyone, all it did was become better propaganda.

10. worst part of fanon

Aside from the eternal plague that is reader x canon fics, it's both how white dominated it can be, and how often it brings out the worst of all humanity is capable of. Every evil a human being can commit is expressed wrapped in the pretty packaging of words like Community and Acceptance and Charity- as it purposefully degrades people of color, salutes racism as its flag, glorifies abuse and rape and incest and pedophilia and grooms people into life long trauma, centers ego, misunderstands and refuses to understand art, sees art as commodity, and is built on enshrining predators of every kind from all walks of life. Crabs in the capitalist bucket.

13. worst blorboficiation

I have to talk about this I have to but like there are two big ones and the most obvious one is FF/XIV's Em/t Se/ch because fascist eugenicist imperialism inventing dictator who the story goes out of its way to wooby even in his death- which speaks to how overwhelmingly white or deranged FF fans tend to run BUT that's the low hanging fruit

The one I truly don't understand is G'r/ha T/a, the fact that I even have to censor his name because his fans need mental help and they will kill you or like cut off their own skin and toes for their shrines and whatever (I have seen things, I have seen things, and most of them are pedophiles too and manipulative and abusive it is a trend, not an absolute but a trend)

But this man like he can do anything and people say he's just a little baby, he's just their little skrunckly blorbo bestie and I'm like bitch...this man gambled with the player's life and gambled with their npc friend's lives for his schemes, you ALL could have easily DIED, AND HE DIDN'T EVEN TELL YOU AND WHEN HE DOES HE GIVES THE FAKEST APOLOGY THAT CENTERS HIM AS STILL BEING RIGHT FOR IT, because he didn't want to worry and cause problems for people if they knew and he didn't want anyone going off script and he's always guilting people into taking pity on him with these wishy washy apologies every time he manipulates or imposes on people he's even like Oh The Solution To This Problem Would Be My Suicide Ohh How Awful But Necessary *hint hint nudge nudge* so that another npc can be like Oh No Don't Do That We'll Find Another Way! My Vaste in the corner like No You Should Kill Yourself... Now!

Like even the way you first meet him he knows the gravity of what you're looking for and he STILL wants to force you on a wild goose chase for his ego and for the sillies and when he introduces himself he's like Wasn't I So Quirky? about it. Then also he barely knows you; you knew each other for like a few days before he sealed himself in the tower, then when an alternate timeline version of him is freed he spends A HUNDRED YEARS trying to snatch you into his house. Like WHAT? WHAT? I'VE KNOWN YOU FOR FIVE SECONDS AS COWORKERS MF WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU. He never gives you a REAL apology or learns from anything in retrospect.

And also the game NEVER gives you any options to disagree with him, you can at least tell Em/t off but for all the shady shit this fucker did the game physically will not allow you to be upset with him for his actions EVER. You're supposed to always just understand it was for something bigger than you and never take genuine or lasting issue with any wrongs. Or even mention them again. And I say this too because literally after he just gambled your life away and is manipulating and hiding things from you- HE STILL BEGS THAT YOU BE HIS FRIEND AND THAT YOUR ARE HIS FRIEND AND YOU SHOULD TAKE HIM WITH YOU, BECAUSE HE LITERALLY HAS NO LIFE OUTSIDE OF STALKING AND WORSHIPING THE PLAYER. HE HAS NO GOALS THAT DON'T INVOLVE THE PLAYER.

His ENTIRE personality revolves around being someone who saves chewing gum someone they like spat out so they can sniff it in their room but if that was supposed to be heroic and sweet. People get on Lili in Tekken with Asuka? YOU PEOPLE DON'T KNOW CRAZY, OK. MOST OF YOU JUST HATE WOMEN. There was even an interview with the lead writer who made him and she's like she would prefer if everyone loves him so this blorbo shit started from the source and has only gotten worse. I have lost contact with people for not playing into it, I have seen anyone who criticizes him even if they like him get bashed. JUST THE OTHER DAY- someone told me they're LITERALLY SCARED, FOR REAL SCARED of ever posting ANY negative words about him. People even write their CHARACTERS as being scared to say anything bad about him. I can post the receipt.

His fans are not even blorboing him at this point this is psychotic episode shit and I can say that as someone who suffers psychotic episodes and delusions in real life.

The cult around this man is mental illness levels of breaking down. He even steals your player chance in game to recreate a scene from the EW expac trailer where in the trailer it's supposed to be the player stand in who saves Alisae! Also he keeps you in the dark then tries killing himself in front of you as a sacrifice because he wanted it to be a dramatic reveal of his undying love etc etc. He's a complete sniveling little manipulative creep who treats lives like chess pieces he's entitled to. AND he has the nerve to be fucking ugly as shit too. He looks like a botox car crash.

I can't STAND the blorbofication the ONLY reason that could've happened is because the average MMO player is already a megalomaniac and egocentric so they love the thought of having someone who unconditionally licks their ass crack, no matter what they do or who they are by their actions. He's also such a non-character from a writing perspective; the moment you remove the W/oL from his equation there is no character left. But this also makes his sole literary function as the Adoring Fan But If He Kept Dead Bodies Dressed As You In His Closet all the more obvious and readable.

Listen the best way I can say it is like, CANON G'rah/ is the worst of what FANON Emilie "Lili" de Rochefort is. And he doesn't even have the potential justifications or restraint (Lili having restraint, LILI; Queen Faggot herself!) or narrative points of canon Lili toward Asuka. He's just 100% a controlling presumptive turd from the beginning. And people blorbo this behavior because they think it's cute. They think possessiveness and self destruction and unthinking projection is cute and quirky and zany. And probably because from those I've spoken with it seems like no one has ever loved them irl so now they think this is love and what they're entitled to. He's that Weird Al song 'Do I Creep You Out?' played straight.

The game also makes stalkers cute with how it treats Nashu's stalker in the Hildy quests. This game is just really terrible tbh outside of playing dress up and killing things.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

A lot of the popular general fandom tropes that have endured and are considered classic, a lot of them revolve around taking control and autonomy away from people for how "cute" it could be. Do you ever notice that? There's this sort of codified list for how to find joy in envisioning stand-ins for people are if they were your dolls, where everything goes wrong for them and they don't have choices outside those you make for them. I feel like this is a common thread in the psyche of most people who turn to fandoms, especially hard fans. There seems to be a subconscious desire to control and force their will on people around them, because often they are powerless and are looking for a place of absolute power. In being bullied they have become a bully.

[lovehotelreservation]

GETS THIS OUT OF MY SYSTEM BECAUSE A BICH HAS BEEN TRAPPED IN THIS SEX NANDO’S FOR A WEEK !!! HEWWO WHO HAS DMS OPEN WITH GOD I NEED HELP WITH DEALING WITH VIRGINITY ROX LAGUNA

SOMETHING SOMETHING BJORK PAGAN POETRY YE OLDE DEMON/PRIESTESS AU THEMES OF DUB-CON/POSSESSIVENESS/GETTING YOINKED FOR LOVE INVOLVED PLS TAKE DISCRETION BEFORE READING FURTHER!!!

It was pitiful, truly.

The embodiment of hellfire reduced to flickering candlelight, a terrifying aura that at once horrified every single soul now tamed into submission. Long, silken strands of onyx and ruby shades spiraled into unkempt frays, the rich fabric of an ornate yukata reminiscent of the spring night having lost its luster, all while a physique that was simply so vast in muscular build and height was caged down to a stone stool by the work of heavy iron chains and golden rope, all plastered with countless ofuda that were inscribed with prayers for heaven’s protection.

Villain.

Monster.

Demon.

At long last, the shamelessly vile entity that was Vox Akuma was successfully captured by the land’s mightiest warriors as commanded by the emperor and ordained by the head temple. Proclaimed to be the cause of every disaster, the silver-tongued advisor to all invading nations, a glutinous beast who fancied himself to any pure-hearted soul to be part of his harem, the mere utterance of his name sent any and all into a tremble.

And in a matter of hours, he was to be subject to execution by public exorcism before the emperor, his high court, and the public masses–a grand display of the gods’ triumph over evil.

Though, perhaps most pitiful of all was you in this very moment.

Scarlet heat across your cheeks, moans that became harder and harder to stifle back behind gritted teeth, nails sinking into whatever they could for purchase.

How utterly disgraceful of the head temple’s high priestess.

Yet here you were, right in Vox’s desolate cell deep beneath the nation’s head temple, seated upon his lap, your ceremonial garb shifted to allow just enough access for you to spear yourself onto his thick cock.

He was confined.

You were not.

But comparing his smug demeanor to your shameful fluster, one would think otherwise.

“I always knew you were the one who lived up to the standards of your order, darling~” His tongue snaked over his smirking lips as his golden serpentine eyes continued to admire the way your face stayed hidden against his shoulder. His voice, already sounding somewhat fatigued from how long he had been held captive, took on a huskier note as he purred, “Indulging the last request of a damned soul–there’s a place in heaven for you yet.”

Your nails dug further into his shoulders, piercing through the thinning fabric of his yukata as you turned to face him with a glare and a hiss. “Don’t patronize me. The world will be better off once we’re free from your presence.”

Vox was unfazed.

He was delighted.

Clicking his tongue, he simply shifted his hips up against yours sharply as you prepared to bounce down on his cock. His smirk widened from the squeal you let out in response. “Oh? Did I pinch a sweet little nerve of yours, angel?” The burning heat of his breath fanned against your ear while he brought his face closer to hum sweetly, “Are you still upset that the temple took so long to rescue you from my lair~? And I was so close to claiming your soul too–”

“Be quiet!”

Your hand slapped against his smug lips, your rhythm quickening in pace while your eyes immediately turned to the side, focusing your sight upon the countless paper slips of prayers for protection that were stuck onto one of the cell walls.

Your captivity wasn’t that long ago either, but gods did it feel like an eternity.

The memories of his clawed, talon-like nails teasingly trailing along your skin, his wicked whispered declarations to make you his, your body pressed so perfectly against his while he ravaged you in his chambers day after day, all while your mind fought valiantly to cling to the hope that the gods would bless you with rescue and salvation.

And they did.

Eventually.

But it was for that reason that you were now here, sickened with the burden of lingering desire that led you down to this lonely cell to indulge Vox and yourself just one more night together.

However, you of all people knew what the consequences of yielding to temptation would bring about.

You came to realize this by the large hand that suddenly came to grasp your wrist, plucking your hand away from Vox’s mouth.

“Now, is that any way to treat your god, my love?”

Heavy chains plummeted to the floor.

Thick ropes snapped with ease.

Prayer seals reduced to ash.

The scorch of your body heat melding with his was replaced by a striking chill as your eyes grew wide with horror and your movements came to a halt.

Yet before you could say or do anything else, your mouth was claimed by a hungry pair of lips as his big arms caged around your body, the two of you moving from the chair to you pinned right down beneath him to the cold stone floor. Near instantaneously, he was pounding and pummeling his cock into you without a shred of mercy or restraint, the sound of his thrusts ringing throughout the cell’s walls with every obscenely wet slaps.

By the time that Vox finally broke away from your kiss, you were gasping for air. Any attempts to escape was impossible, not with him effortlessly anchoring your body down with his own.

The same hand that once seized your wrist was now clutching at your chin, keeping your head in place so you had no choice but to stare right up at his face.

All signs of fatigue were gone. Save for his yukata, Vox was back to peak form. Flowing hair, radiant skin, and–most of all–an authoritative aura of arrogance fitting for a malevolent demon like him.

His thumb traced over your cheek as he mockingly cooed, “Oh, angel, angel–I thought you knew everything about me?” Continuing on, his tone took on an innocent inflection matched by the tilt of his head. “After all, what is the point of existence without the thrill of theatrics?” This was all in contrast to the mischievous glint in his eyes as he boasted, “Hell is my kingdom, my playground–you think I can be held down so easily by fancy paper scrawled with nonsense incantations?”

“Then what was the point of all this?!” You gasped, torn between humiliation and pleasure, your mind a blur of what had just transpired to your days of captivity in his abode and the current delightful rocking of his hips against yours.

Vox’s face lit up joyfully while his voice burned threateningly.

“To demonstrate to all in the world to never take what is rightfully mine.”

His thrusts picked up in pace, hammering into you over and over until your back was arching and your mouth parted in a silent scream upon orgasm, all while you could feel the scorching heat of his hot sticky cum flood inside your core.

While you soon fell back down onto the floor in a dazed heap, he was far from done. His cock still erect and hard, he simply continued to rut against you as he prepared to indulge himself to your body once more.

Vox brought his lips to your neck, eager to vandalize your skin yet again after so long away from you.

“My angel, my kindred, my goddess…” He moaned in drunken ecstasy. “What an absolute joy it will be for the audience gathering tomorrow to finally see the big bad Akuma finally be destroyed--” The corners of his lips broke into a wide and haughty grin. “--only to see their sweet and saintly priestess on all fours, begging for my cock and my seed.”

His arms squeezing around you tightly, he drew his head back away just enough to face you fully, the gleam in his eyes reflecting not arrogant pride, but an unbridled and wicked adoration.

“Come on then—let’s rehearse lots for tomorrow, shall we~ ♡?”

[randomrosewrites]

I would like to request Xiao getting sick and the reader has to take care of him! uwu thank you in advance <33

a/n: You can! Sick fics are my guilty pleasure, I hope I did Xiao justice <3

Under the weather

Pairing: Xiao x GN reader Summary: Xiao falls sick, and tries very hard to not let a certain someone help him out. Words: 1.5K Tags: Sickfic, fluff, comfort, Xiao acting tough when he's really a huge softie <3

Xiao is a person who rarely gets sick. Him being an adeptus contributes to that greatly.

…key word being rarely.

There are times, where despite eons of fighting and surviving the worst wounds, his immune system fails him, and he falls sick. He detests it. It makes him feel weak. His body feels miserable and his senses are dulled for a couple of weeks afterwards. Worst of all, it brings out that sympathetic, woeful look from others, which he despises. The last thing Xiao wants is for mortals to take pity on him.

So, when he wakes up with a sore throat and a persistent cough that refuses to go away, he continues with his day as normal, refusing to let some minor bug affect his job. He eats a quick breakfast, grunts a good morning to Ver Goldet at the front, and heads to the balcony to get to work.

The rain that pours from the sky stops him dead in his tracks. Of all the days to rain, when he’s feeling bad enough as is. He glares at the sky, dark clouds showing no sign of stopping. The last thing he wants to do today is to spend the day fighting monsters in the torrent, but duty calls.

Sighing deeply, he tightens his grip on his jade polearm, grits his teeth, and steps out onto the marsh.

---

Eight hours later, when he returns, dripping water, shivering, and exhausted, he knows he’s overdone it.

He barely makes it past the threshold of the inn and into his room, collapsing onto his bed wet clothes and all. He feels awful and his cough is so bad that it steals all the breath from his lungs.

He knows he should get up, at least to strip himself of his clothes, but he just can’t find the strength to do so. It’s like his limbs are made of stone, weighed down and heavy.

Rain continues pattering against the roof, and below, Xiao can almost make out the sounds of guests talking. It’s comforting. Background noise that puts him at ease. He’s never been fond of complete silence, nor an excessive amount of noise. Xiao closes his eyes, curling himself up in a ball on his bed. Sleep pulls at his mind, making his ragged breathing steady.

He’s so out of it, he doesn’t notice another presence in his room until he feels a pressure on his head.

Terror shoots through his veins and Xiao leaps up, clumsily drawing his polearm into his hands. Too slow. He hisses to himself. He’s right. A hand wraps around his wrists, easily twisting the weapon out of harm's way. He’s considering kicking the intruder in the chest when a familiar voice grounds him to a halt.

“Woah! It’s just me, Xiao,” your eyes are wide with shock, maybe even a hint of fear.

He blinks up at you. There are no enemies. His weapon disappears in a flash of light. “What the hell. You shouldn’t sneak into other people’s rooms.”

“The door was open,” you defend, letting go of his wrists after a moment. “And the carpet was soaked all the way from outside. What happened? You sound awful.”

“I got wet.” He coughs, squeezing his eyes shut. “Agh – do you need anything? Or can I be alone?”

You frown, starting at him so intently that he averts his gaze. “You’re sick.”

“And what if I am? That’s not your concern-”

You’re already turning away before he’s finished his sentence. He wonders if you’re just going to go out the front door and leave, until you turn into the bathroom, your voice calling from inside, “I’ll run you a bath.”

What.

“What?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because you’re sick. Just stay right there, it’ll be ready in a second.”

“I don’t need you to run me a bath like I’m some…” his skin heats with anger. (Or maybe that’s just his fever.) “Child.”

“You’re not. I don’t think you are. I’m just helping you out,” you say simply.

Xiao releases a breath, clinging to his stubbornness. “I don’t need your help,” With his nose plugged, it doesn’t sound half as intimidating as he wants to be.

Your response is light and tender, almost understanding. It makes Xiao’s throat tighten. “I know, Xiao.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he sits on the edge of his bed, listening to your shuffling. The water runs and after a few minutes, you exit, sleeves rolled up to your elbows.

“It’s all set, go in whenever you feel ready.”

Xiao gets up, clearing his throat. “Alright.”

He probably should say something else, but he doesn’t know what else to say. So, he awkwardly shuffles into the bathroom, feeling his cheeks burn as he closes the door behind him. The bath is fancier than anything he’s ever taken. A few bubbles foam in the water, and if his nose weren’t plugged, he’d be able to smell the fresh scent of Fontaine bath salts.

He strips quickly and carefully lowers himself into the water, sighing as the knots in his muscles unravel. He lets himself soak for a bit longer than necessary, slowly scrubbing his skin, only getting out once the bath starts to lose its heat. The steam does wonders for his breathing. By the time he dries himself with a towel and changes into a fresh set of clothes, he can breathe through one nostril again.

When he exits, you’ve gotten the blankets changed and are sitting in a chair by the side of the bed. A magazine is open on your lap, one of the ones that came with the room that he’s never read. You close it when you see him.

“Why are you still here?”

“Because you’re sick and need someone to care for you,” you turn, digging around in your bag by your feet. “I also want to take your temperature.”

He folds his arms and does his best to seem imposing. “I’ve survived for eons without the need for anyone else, what makes you think I’ll let you take care of me now?”

“I’m not asking,” you sit up, and with all the patience (or stubbornness) Xiao’s ever seen, pat the bed. “Come here, Xiao.”

He hesitates a minute more before ultimately giving in, planting himself in front of you. A thermometer is placed in his mouth, which he begrudgingly accepts. The chills start to return, so he picks up one of the blankets carefully folded at the edge of the bed and wraps himself in it.

His nose isn’t working, so it comes to a shock when he sees the steaming bowl of miso soup on his bedside dresser, boiled bits of soft tofu floating in the broth.

“Is that…mine…?” It sounds silly the moment he says it out loud, and curses himself for it.

“Mhm. I had the staff bring it up when you were in the bathroom. It’s plain, so it won’t upset your stomach, but I want to get some medicine in you before you have any.”

A bath…food…medicine…he almost feels sick with how much care you’re treating him with.

“This is stupid…” he murmurs as you pour a vile of red liquid into a small medicine cup. He has half the mind to tell you mortal medicine won’t work but knowing your stubbornness, he wouldn’t doubt that you’d gone ahead and purchased special medicine from the pharmacy in Liyue Harbor.

“Stupid is going out into the rain and catching a cold,” you quip back. There’s no aggression to your words, he almost feels bad when he responds with a snarky comment.

“I was already sick before I went out.”

You stop to stare at him, narrowing your eyes in a way that makes Xiao’s insides turn, before sighing. “Stupid is going out into the rain when you were already sick. Give me the thermometer, please.”

His temperature is high, by both mortal and adeptal standards. You force him to swallow two tablespoons of medicine that tastes like ashes and he manages a few spoonfuls of the soup before his stomach protests. He wraps the blankets around him, frowning when you get up and tuck the sheets around his body.

“I didn’t need your help.”

You brush the bangs from his forehead. Xiao’s eyes flutter for a brief moment. He doesn’t push you away. “Whatever you say, Xiao.”

“Let me finish,” he snaps, before collecting himself. He really needs to stop doing that. “I didn’t need your help, but…I appreciate it.”

Your eyes widen a smidge before a small smile spreads across your face, making Xiao’s temperature rise even more.

“You’re welcome, Xiao. Sweet dreams.”

You sit by his bedside until he falls asleep, feeling the safest and more comfortable than he’s ever been in a while. Xiao doesn’t dream anymore, but if he did, he knows it would have been a peaceful one.

[rayofsunas]

s/o who dies.

A/n: listennnn, I wasn't going to write something dark, but then I unregretfully decided to listen to edgy/dark audios and I was suddenly in the mood to write this so yeah lmao. also, guess what? I'm planning on making a discord server right after posting this! so, be on the lookout for that when I get it all sorted out. also, note for Scaramouche's that the reader inserts tend to lean more femininely versed (I hope that's okay), the only reasons why I do that is because one I simp and I'm female AND two since I am doing a mini-series for Scara, I've kind of based his imagines/fics around that universe (baby daddy universe). I haven't started his yet, but consider these part of that series' universe. anyways as always thank you for requesting anon and enjoy! <333

Summary: you die + how the boys cope afterward.

Parings: Albedo/Gn! Reader, Xiao/Gn! Reader, Scaramouche/Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, death, poison, illness/cancer, murder, arson, obsessive behavior

Word count: 2.1k

Albedo

"You need to keep this on your head." Your lover said for the one-hundredth time, placing the cold cloth on your forehead once again after taking it off only seconds earlier.

"This is pointless," You said, no longer wanting to ignore nor hide behind the invisible thick curtains of the obvious death sentence approaching. "My body rejected the medicine the first twice doses, what's a third time going to do?" You asked, knowing Albedo wouldn't answer; your hope was to knock some sense into his thick skull. but he was too worried trying to ignore the obvious as you had previously been doing, not anymore though.

This was saddening to watch, both Albedo's unfolding and the girl who accidentally poisoned you, whimpering into Sucrose's shoulder. She was only a young girl, barely seventeen when she was chosen to work under Sucrose and your boyfriend. She was very good at Alchemy and luckily had a desire to practice the craft. But unfortunately, she hadn't paid much attention when it came to Surcrose's educational poison lesson and had unknowingly mixed up poisonous liquids and materials.

After tipping over some clutter in Albedo's office and knocking over a test tube laying unsealed on the counter, you had realized the contents spilled on your skin, bleaching into your pores. You had been tasked with bringing the famed alchemist and his assistant some vials and materials for the collection of a rare butterfly they had found. It was both telling and obvious that something was wrong when you never showed up with the required materials requested and it was already too late hours later when the chief Alchemist, his assistant, and Alchemist in training came bounding down the stairs of Albedo's home laboratory.

It didn't take long for the trio to realize something was wrong. Sucrose had found the vile on the floor, most of its contents spilled and in a little puddle, plus your state on a nearby lounge chair was obvious; slumped awkwardly, forehead visibly sweating, eyes closed, breathing raspily.

You accepted the first doses of the supposed nullifying medicine without hesitation, just wanting the numbing feeling to go away. But when it never kicked in you decided it would be best to save the medicine, because it wasn't working. Your time was coming.

"Since the medicine is taking immediate effect, you should try to get the contents out of your system," He said, reaching out for you. Badly you wanted to argue that the medicine wasn't working at all, but he wasn't listening and already has his lean arms wrapped around your middle, helping gently lift and guide you over to the sink.

You hear materials being shoved to the side and soon enough you had your head dangling over the sink, shaking hands gripping the metalled edge tightly. Soon enough, Albedo's hand was on your back rubbing up and down, hoping to comfort you, it wasn't working though. You could only think about your death, what the other side would look like. Could there even be heaven or hell, maybe a place in between, maybe nowhere...?

As soon as you felt the urge to vomit, you did, and despite it being utterly disgusting Albedo seemed to welcome it happily. He took this as something good, but it only worried you when you saw the reddish hues in the bile.

"I think they should leave." You muttered acknowledging Sucrose and Elizabeth, the taste of gooey, metal only becoming more apparent. The blonde agreed, nodding and muttering "Okay."

As Sucrose lead Elizabeth towards the stairs, the pair heard you say. "Goodbye Sucrose, Elizabeth." Which only seemed to make the young girl wail louder.

You sighed sadly once the silence was back. Just your thoughts of death, and Albedo's slowly crushing heart.

"You should probably leave soon as well. I don't want you to be here when I go." Albedo frowned at your statement, head shaking.

"Don't say things like that."

Of course, he'd say that. Why did he feel the need to ignore this when it would only come back to hurt him even more later on when you were gone?

"You're the smartest man I know and we both know where this is heading," You said, head feeling much heavier than before. It was getting closer to your time. "I'm going to die, and you can't do anything about it."

"I'm not leaving your side. We promised to stick together through everything, you can't ask me to leave."

"I guess... But promise me this."

"When I go, stop blaming Elizabeth. It was an accident..." You said sincerely. Albedo wanted to make a fuss about it, tell you he'd never been able to forgive her. But for you, he would try. If it was your list desire, your last wish, he'd make it come true. Though it would be difficult. Accidental or not, she was the reason you were leaving him here, alone.

"Okay, I'll try..." He said honestly.

"Thank you," You said, letting out a shaking breath you had been holding for a very long time. Now you felt much more peaceful. "And since I know you stubbornly won't leave," You started, finally turning away from the sink to look into his cerulean eyes. "At least hold my hand."

"Of course, love."

even a year after your death, no matter how hard he tried, there was still this nagging feeling every time he looked at Elizabeth

he wanted too badly forgive her, but he couldn't

she had, although accidental, taken the one person that meant so much to him and he'd never forgive

Albedo is gonna be distant towards everyone he knows and it's completely purposeful

he doesn't like the pitiful gazes that people send his way and he hates that all the captains stared at him at your funeral

obviously, some questioned if he was able to stay in the field

he hadn't taken any time off, even when Jean advised he was welcome and that it would be best

tbh, albedo's going to have a hard time for a while

Xiao

Why did it have to be you? Why not him? He'd feel much better knowing you could live another day, after all, he'd been living a very long time.

But no, the fallen Archons, Gods, Yaksha had chosen you to join them. He wished that weren't the case

Humans and their pathetic vessels... So weak, he thought. Allowing something like cancer to beat them.

No matter how harsh it sounded, he didn't despise you, no. It wasn't your fault. You didn't ask for this. He just knew that if you were a godly being this wouldn't have happened like this or at least not so soon; Xiao had known Gods that had terminal illnesses to live years. Why couldn't you be like them?

He hated watching you lie there in that bed, immobile, sickly, and tired, and all you could say was that everything was going to be alright, that he'd be alright.

But it wasn't. He wouldn't be okay without you. He would struggle daily, fall deeper into a hole. You were the light of his life, the only light in his life. And you were gone, just like that. Turning external scars into internal ones tattered all over his dying heart.

Xiao for the longest time has been by himself, so the people of Liyue know it'll be harder for him to overcome this, no matter what he says or does to prove otherwise

Zhongli in particular knows how hard this will be for his friend

his first and probably last love, dead, gone in the blink of an eye

he'll continue fighting all the monsters he crosses, becoming even more violent when he does so, trying his best to get rid of this stupid sickly feeling of heartbreak

but it won't go away, no matter what he does, no matter how absurd

he just wants the feeling to go away, he despises that feeling so much

if you have a secret place somewhere, like in the mountains, Zhongli often finds him there, wallowing in invisible self-pity

"You know they wouldn't want you to be like this." Zhongli would say, only trying to help

but it doesn't

it only enrages Xiao, even more, fuels him to push everyone out of his life again instead of letting them in like he'd done in your presence

Scaramouche

How dare you. How dare you leave him like this. Alone, nonetheless with a toddler to raise who kept crying for her mommy. He couldn't do this without you, he didn't know how to raise a child, speak to her with the gentle care that you did. That was your expertise but now he'd be doing it solo.

And never again would he entrust someone who he cares about, into ignorant, incompetent arms. Never again will he ever allow any member of the Fatui to watch after his daughter; no matter their rank or position. They had one job while he was away doing business in Liyue. Guard your home twenty-four seven, accompany you into Inazuma's port town should you need anything, watch after his daughter while she plays happily in the luscious Inazuma fields. And they couldn't do that. All he gave them was one simple task, watch and keep you and your daughter safe. Instead, they slacked off, probably drunk in some bar while you were being brutally attacked by murderous mercenaries, left to fend for you and your daughter, only to die protecting her and leave your home to be severely burned.

He knew those idiotic Fatui soldiers were incompetent the moment he stepped foot into the harbor and found that everyone seemed to quiet down. Especially the eerily silent soldiers flanked on each side to welcome him home; he was the highest-ranking soldier in the land of Inazuma after all. Not a single one bothered to step forward and tell him what was wrong, what they all criminally allowed happen. Scaramouche only realized what had happened when he was mere minutes away from arriving home, his daughter had come running from his widowed mother's arms, the sight of smoke rising in the air, from the direction of his home. You were nowhere to be seen.

It all happened so fast, in the blink of an eye. His daughter was clinging to his shirt and his mother only stared with tears of pity.

It didn't take long for the puzzle pieces to be put together and before he knew it, Scaramouche was standing in front of his home, part of it burnt to a crisp and black.

He didn't need to ask what happened, he didn't need to know where you were, because he already knew. What he didn't know was who exactly had done this. But he was going to find out, now.

Incompetent, selfish, bastards. They would all pay for this. The lazy piggish Fatui soldiers who he should've never trusted with such a simple task and the thieves who had murdered you. They all had it rightfully coming.

Scaramouche hates the world after he lost you

he hates it so much and can't understand how this had happened

he's not a good person, so he blames it on karma and those stupid idiots who couldn't protect you

ngl, he's not gonna be around much after your death... his mother would argue that he should be here to raise your daughter, because she's also in pain and doesn't understand that this isn't some game of hide and seek this time

instead, he's focused and driven by revenge

he doesn't listen to a word anybody says, he's much more dangerous than before, and he only trusts his judgment

anyone trying to get him to stop his mission, is someone who doesn't want to see him happy he thinks (though that's not true at all. they hate that he is obsessive over this) but he will personally put a stop to that

and he'll only return home to his daughter and mother when he finds who did this and they along with their bloodline is exterminated

while he's gone, the remainder of his family is relocated somewhere he knows they'll be safe, for example, even though he despises childe, he knows his mom and daughter will be safe with his family

sorry, but Scaramouche will hold this deep-rooted hatred and love for you after you die

yes, he still loves and misses you dearly, but he hates you for leaving him alone, hates that although it wasn't intentional and out of your control, that you were gone

no matter how hard you tried to fight, it was selfish of you to leave him like this

he's not going to stop until he believes whoever was behind this is dead

and in his case, he'll stop believing when he chooses, even if they are innocent/guilty, he'll keep going

3.19.21, rayofsunas

[angelguk]

what happens in this section is entirely a result of what guys voted please do not! come for my head in my inbox im begging. very sad in general like Angst with a capital A with a sprinkle of despair and pain. listen to mess it up by gracie abrams. roughly 2k.

(titled — out of line)

You thought Lucas would help, the warmth of his body a distraction from your aching heart, but he didn’t. Not the way you needed him to. He was sweet enough, made you giggle endlessly before finding his place between your thighs. But even with his tongue on your clit, your (now usually sober) mind still lingered on Jeongguk, his memory a stain on your soul. It didn’t help when you spotted him with a girl hanging off his arm, her bright eyes stuck on his face, soaking him in like the earth does the sun. You didn’t know her name – Chayoung took the liberty of whispering it to you after your biology lab. She was Hyeri, a sophomore with a delicate laugh and graceful disposition. That vile vindictive black thing that now inhabited your chest swelled, brain already comparing the differences between you and her. Your clumsiness suddenly felt like a curse, even though Jeongguk had countlessly said he loved you for it (or did he say that just to ease your worries?). Insecurities spring forth like weeds and you don’t have the capacity to keep the careful garden of your heart tended. 

They take over slowly, your eyes stinging whenever you see them huddled together in the quad. Bitter tears blinked back, your blinkered senses overlooking how Jeongguk’s quiet gaze followed your figure whenever you turned your back to him, even with Yoona yapping at his ears. 

Perhaps the despondency that clung to your bones is what led you here, face planted in the musky scent of Namjoon’s sheets, your heart throbbing funny. 

“Can you even breathe?” He questions. The timbre of his voice washes over you, familiar and somewhat reassuring. You twist upright to face him, eyes squeezing tight when the bright fluorescent lights in his room assaults your vision. 

“I was hoping my heart would give up if I held it in long enough.”

Namjoon stills, brown eyes flitting over you. He coughs like he’s working through various sets of words before he decides what’s most suitable. “And then what? I get framed for murder when they find your body here?”

You laugh, and it hurts. “Maybe. My body is very portable though, did you consider first burying me in the backyard?”

“Rookie mistake,” Namjoon returns. He rises to fetch the mugs of tea sitting idle on a stool he’d dragged from the corner of his room. “The sniffer dogs would fly straight to that location. Also, I’d have to dig a hole big enough to fit your head in.”

“And why would the dogs find me immediately?” You say, shuffling upright, palms ready to receive the tepid heat that will seep through the ceramic the moment the cup settles in your hand.

“Your perfume,” Namjoon says. He hands you the mug, heat fulfilling its chosen purpose, the scent of gentle jasmine wafting to your nose.

You pout then, glancing at him. “My perfume?”

“It’s distinct. Violet, right? Maybe vanilla too?” Namjoon says it easily, sinking beside you, utterly unaware of the ticking in your brain. Your gaze falters then, shifting to his broad shoulder and thick biceps. The ivy shirt he’s got on barely contains all that muscle in, fabric stretched thin. 

You take a sip of your tea, and despite the period Namjoon gave it to cool it still scalds your tongue. 

“Why do you know what fragrance I wear?” It comes out accusatory, but Namjoon handles it well, laughing low.

“You’ve had the same one since high-school, I think. And I remember you telling me.”

The fingers around your cup squeeze tight, your brain unlocking a moment you’d forgotten in the wake of brighter ones. A quiet afternoon at the back of your high-school, Namjoon towering over you, his nose trailing the hollow of your neck, a stray comment about how you smelled good washing over you. It was followed by a flustered younger version of you deflecting, heart pounding wild when Namjoon drew back to look at you as you rattled off the different sillages that made up your favourite perfume. He’d laughed, low like did just now, before calling you cute and pulling you in for a kiss. 

“Oh,” you finally murmur. “I remember now.”

You were actually going to change it after your break-up with him, but then Jeongguk had mentioned how much he’d liked it and the bottle had stayed.

Namjoon hums, his gaze slow as it shifts around the room. It’s a space that screams of him, light wood tones and plants breaking from the pristine white walls. Space carved for nature, a grounding sensation living within these four walls – something that seems to live inside of Namjoon too.

“How are you?” He suddenly asks, turning slowly to measure your features. 

You blink hard, only realising then that you’d been staring at his face for a second too long. “F-fine. I’m okay. Just busy, y’know. Finals coming up, planning events; the usual.”

“I know,” Namjoon says with a ginger smile. “But that’s not what I’m asking. How are you? With Jeongguk and everything.”

“Oh.” You can’t answer that, his unexpected brazenness shocking your system. The smile on his lips fades, a solemnness in the brown of his eyes. His next words are earnest, and they settle in the pit of your stomach.

“Y/N, I know you didn’t just come here to chat for no reason. We can talk about Jeongguk, that’s okay.”

“N-no, we don’t need it. We’re over. It’s been two months already. We’re seeing other people and I don’t really want to discuss one of my exes with another one. And maybe I did just come to see you,” you tack on an empty laugh at the end, hoping Namjoon doesn’t read right through you.

But he does. Like a part of you hoped he would.

“I’m your friend, you know. We had something but nothing like what you and Jeongguk have. Two months isn’t going to make a lifetime disappear. It’s okay if you still feel bad.”

That’s what cracks you, a well-aimed hammer knocking your walls right down. You bite your lip hard, fingertips pinching the ceramic in your grasp, and swallow the tears looming in your throat with a choked laugh. 

“I’m fine, Namjoon. I feel a little like shit but I’m working on it. And Lucas is a great guy–”

“But he’s not Jeongguk.” The sentence feels heavy as if it carries the weight of many hearts on it. But it’s also a line you were thinking about earlier, even with Lucas pressed against you.

“That’s not what I would say–”

“But it’s what you were thinking,” Namjoon cuts. Maybe there’s a peephole in your head that only Namjoon has access to. “And that’s fine. It sucks for Lucas, though. But you shouldn’t feel bad for thinking that way. Especially when you know how special Jeongguk is to you.”

Special. The word is bright, glimmering like Jeongguk’s eyes do. 

“I-I just–it just–I don’t know.” The tears you’d attempted to seal inside burst, slipping down your cheeks quiet. Namjoon pry's the mug from your hand, replaces its warmth with his own, and for a split second things feel bearable. 

“Hey, hey,” he murmurs, a calloused palm on your damp cheek, his steadiness clearing away the gloomy skies in your head. But he doesn’t tell you to stop crying, doesn’t whisper that it’ll be okay. He just tugs you closer, rests your splinting head on his wide chest, and soaks up the tears on your face with his shirt. Like the earth does for the pouring heavens. 

You eventually hiccup the despair down, finding the words to explain to Namjoon what you were feeling in between the moments where breathing didn’t feel like a race. He takes the news of Jeongguk kissing somebody days after your break-up with wide eyes, his eyebrows drawing together. And then comes the second girl, you don’t even know her name but it still cleaves something out of you. And finally, Hyeri. Her name is a lament.

“And it sucks because he looks happy with her and I still want him to be happy because I still love him. I love him so much it hurts.”

Namjoon cocks his head then, his wide palm sliding down your back. “You think Jeongguk looks happy?”

“Yes?” But it’s a question, your upward gaze on his face imploring.

Namjoon shakes his head instead. You don’t hear it, the following words a deep muffled murmur, “Both of you are idiots.” But you see the twinkle in his eyes and it makes your back straighten.  

You want to pester but Namjoon pulls you closer, and you lose yourself in the feeling of him, before a question can register on your tongue. His arms are huge, like sturdy branches defying the blistering gales of your heart. He lets you cry for a little longer, listening intently to the continuing spew of words from your lips, until the storm quiets into a breeze. 

“Okay?” Namjoon asks.

You stick your head further into his chest, breathe him in deep. “Okay.”

When he shifts away your skin freezes, but then you realise he’s reaching for a blanket. He swathes it around you fondly, pulling you in for a swift hug before falling out of your reach once more. 

“Now, I think we both need a moment to process that.” He’s talking about but you’re not listening, your eyes on his face, gaze gently trailing the curve of his lips. “I also think we need food before we start unpacking the mess you’re in–”

You swallow the sentence with your lips, salt singeing the corners of your mouth. But your movements are not reciprocated, Namjoon’s mouth is still under yours. The soft hand on your neck guiding you away is what pulls you back, right out of that strange dark desperate ocean that held you. 

“Y/N–”

“Sorry, shit–shit, I shouldn’t have done that.” But there’s no use now, you can’t take it back. Namjoon is looking at you with those eyes, the ones that feel like pity. His sympathy suddenly makes you feel sick, and you wish the ceiling would give away and shatter your head. “I should go.” 

He tries to stop you, firm but gentle with his words and hands. But you’re a wild storm again and nothing can stop you from snatching your butterfly tote bag from the floor of his room and fleeing. The black thing that had been subdued for a moment reemergence with vengeance the second you hit the sidewalks, vision reeling. How could you do that? To Namjoon? To the stable friendship you'd created? But he felt too warm, too caring, too much of everything that you longing for and that Lucas could never give you.

Just a reminder of the swimmer's name as you skidding to a halt, the thump in your chest vicious. Maybe Jeongguk was right. Constantly painting yourself the victim while actively hurting the ones around you. Maybe you should have never let him kiss you again on that rooftop. Maybe you should have never tried to love him.

—

It’s silent in your head when you get back to your apartment. Sieun is home, finally back from her trip to her boyfriend’s parents place, so you’re not surprised to hear the soft hum of laughter filtering through the house. You don’t expect to find Chayoung there though. 

They’re huddling in the kitchen, drifting out cheery greetings when you trudge it, only to fall silent when you mumble back a hollow response. A gentle song floating from the radio fills the empty space, three bodies navigating something tense.  

“Were you with Lucas?” Sieun eventually pokes. She’s not a big fan of him. She’s not a big fan of the current break-up between you and Jeongguk either. She’s going to hate you for what you’re about to tell her.

“No,” you mumble. There are twenty notifications flashing across your phone screen, all from Namjoon. You feel sick, and you might cry again.

“Well? What’s with the long face?” Chayoung adds. 

You take a deep breath, gripping the marble counter tight before twisting around. Better to rip it off all at once right? And there’s no way you could hold this inside of you, not when there is barely any room for your broken heart.

“I kissed Namjoon.”

“WHAT?” Sieun’s jaw slams into the ground and Chayoung freezes beside her, like her joints have suddenly been welded together. They stare at you for long you might have grown a second head during it. And then the questions come, a torrent erupting. You blank for a second, and then the guilt crawls up your spine. It may only be thirteen past five in the afternoon but you definitely need a drink.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

I got major whumperflies reading Drowning parts one and two... are you planning on continuing it?

Drowning Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

@asrasmysoulmate

It's not much on the whump side, but lots and lots of care, comfort, and fluff with a sick supervillain in there.

Warnings: vomit, bathing, feverish whumpee, delirium, hallucinations

~

Hero gathered the wailing supervillain into her arms and held him like that for a long time. She should've watched her tongue. She should've... Hero sighed, there was no point in thinking about how she could've done better when the deed was already done.

Eventually, Supervillain's sobs ceased and were replaced by a vulgar motion. He was heaving, throat convulsing...

Hero shoved Supervillain's head to the side as his stomach's contents expelled themselves. After he finished vomiting onto the floor, he just laid there, head limp, and allowed the trails of puke to slid down his chin.

Hero was just standing there and staring at the scene infront of her. But, recovering from her shock, she lifted Supervillain up and carried him to the bathroom. Setting him lazily by the toilet, she grabbed an unused toothbrush and slapped some toothpaste on it.

Supervillain gagged again, pain coursing through his lungs and ribs. His stomach hurt, badly, and all he wanted to do was lie on the tempting cool floor...

"Hey, hey, hey, whoa. Are you okay?" Hero asked when she noticed Supervillain keeling over. Now, in the better light, he looked like pure trash. He skin was a ghastly shade of gray with vomit and spit still speared across his lips. Snot bubbled under his red nose and his eyes watered. Hero felt a twinge of pity- here was an insanely sick supervillain, most likely feverish out of his mind, trusting one of his sworn enemies. It was unnatural, but more importantly, unheard of.

"Wh... iturts," Supervillain slurred, quite frankly unable to form a complete sentence.

Hero furrowed her brow. She didn't understand what garbled nonsense made its way to her ears, but she hummed in response. Supervillain seem content with the miniscule answer he received and pressed his burning nose to the condensation build-up around the toilet bowl.

"Want to brush your teeth?" Hero asked, handing him the toothbrush. Supervillain clumsily took it only to drop it. Hero pursed her lips and prepared another. She couldn't risk more germs entering Supervillain's system.

She registered that Supervillain was way too weak and feverish to hold an one ounce toothbrush, so she pull him into her lap, allowed his wet head to relax against her chest, and started to brush his teeth.

He was so tired and fatigued that his lips loosely molded around the plastic brush, head nodding softly.

Hero tenderly brushed each tooth with dentist-like precision and motherly care- if that's not too ironic. All thoughts of their previous encounter vanished; he was in her care now and she would do anything to comfort him.

It was as if her already golden heart was fashioned with another serum of empathy. She didn't have to brush his teeth to get rid of the vile taste- it wouldn't kill him, so why would she?

She also didn't need to bathe him either, and certainly did not need to tip his head back so soap wouldn't get into his earthly eyes. She washed his face with a soft silk washcloth, gently so she wouldn't wake the now sleeping supervillain.

When her instinctual caring of the patient was done, and he was changed into a fresh pair of clothes, she laid him on her own bed.

Hero suddenly reeled backwards. What was she doing? It was like she was in a trance, caring for the villain as if he was an angel from heaven. Actually that might be an understatement...

Nevertheless, amongst doubts and courage, Hero continued to tend for his very needs. Right now, it was sleep; lots of rest and slumber to build up his strength.

Upon waiting for his awakening, Hero started to research about tending someone with pneumonia. Every single website practically screamed at her to take him to a hospital, but that couldn't be done. She couldn't risk other heroes finding and arresting him.

Supervillain stirred, muttering something sleepily. He blinked open his eyes and tried to roll over, but it caused a coughing fit to rack at his ribs.

"Hey, go back to sleep," Hero rubbed Supervillain's hair.

"Why t'robo... chasin'meh?" Supervillain said, scratchy and raspy. Hero followed his glassy gaze to the middle of her bedroom. There wasn't anything there.

"What do you see Supervillain?"

"Robo."

"Hmm," Hero replied, still stroking his hair. She did this until a feverish sleep took him under again. Then, she rushed into the kitchen, grabbed tylenol, a thermometer, and an ice pack wrapped in a washcloth. She returned to find Supervillain still unconscious, jerking with breaths as his sleeping body tried to draw precious air in.

Hero slipped the thermometer under Supervillain's tongue- it was easy now that his face was completely relaxed. When the thermometer barked at her the dreaded 103.5 degrees fahrenheit, she gently shook her ward awake and coaxed him into taking some tylenol.

She placed the icepack on his flushed forehead. The heat radiating off his body began to melt the ice in a short few minutes. Hero started to bit her lip, desperately trying to get this dangerously high temperature down. She thought of all the possible long-term effects...

No. She had to stay focused. Focused and collected. She propped Supervillain upwards to alleviate the mucus build up and went back to work at breaking the fever.

Whether or not Hero succeeded in the end, to draw the dragon away from the nest, didn't make the pleas from Supervillain any less concerning.

He would scream, ragged and fearful, whenever he would awake from a fitful doze. Sometimes, he would beg for mercy from the torture his delirious mind thought he was enduring.

"Stop it! Stop it please!" He sobbed, trying to curl up on himself- anything to escape his torturer's ruthless hand of strife.

"Relax, Supervillain," Hero mumured, her voice stern and firm due to the weary stress, but at the same time her usual chirp. The motherly chirp of a hen that usually brought Supervillain so much comfort.

At these moments, her voice would draw him into another unreality.

"Don' like," he mumbled. "Don' like panda."

Hero sighed, rubbing her tiring eyes.

"What's wrong with panda?" She asked, hoping he was talking about the plaid shirt he was wearing.

"Too warm," Supervillain earnestly explained- or to an extent. Really, to Hero, it sounded like he was trying to get a kitten off his lap. He wanted it, but his resolve was too kind to exactly remove the curled up furrball.

"Your blanket?"

"Fur bear," Supervillain chittered. "Yeh..." His voice trailed off as another wave of lethargic dizziness hit him. He whimpered, resting deep into the plushy pillow.

Hero smiled softly and cupped Supervillain's warm cheek. His fever was breaking, she could tell by the added tan to his blanched face.

It was nearly nighttime. The sun was setting, its rays hitting the pair. Hero sat with her legs crossed and examined his drooping face. He would fall alseep soon, whisked away to a land of darkness and dreams.

Hero left to take care of her own personal needs. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and showered. However, the shower was short-lived and the hero was still lathered in shampoo when she checked on the supervillain. She grinned and finished her shower.

Supervillain was just waking up again when Hero returned with her hair bound and wrapped in a towel on the top of her head. He weakly tried to touch the towel, failed miserably, but still grinned like a toddler and his train toy.

"Want to eat?" Hero asked, remembering the leftover soup in the fridge. Her patient nodded.

Hero fed the supervillain like she did in the morning, slow and coaxing. For the most part, her ward refused to allow the shiny metal to slide between his gums, but at last he consented.

Hero fed him- clutching the mattress to ensure her patience to not rush him. The friendly gesture of kindness ended with Supervillain back in Hero's arms as he dozed off. Hero almost nearly fell alseep too if it wasn't for the repetitive tapping on her door.

Knock, knock.

Hero's heart jumped and she quickly made sure Supervillain was covered. She locked her bedroom door and went to the frontdoor.

Knock, knock.

Maybe if Hero had a window or an eye-hole or something, she could've avoided the looming catastrophe.

Hero opened the door open, only to be thrown against the floor by blast of pure strength.

"Where is he!" Came the all too-familiar voice. It boomed throughout the house, focalizing on the entryway where Hero and the intruder were.

"I said," a dark figure stepped into the light, a hood obscuring the livid face underneath. "Where is Supervillain, Hero?"

The figure stripped off his hood to reveal none other than her fellow ex-prisoner, holding a sharp knife.

Villain.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

TLC

A/N: Sorry not sorry about the length.

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Chubby! Thor x Reader

Warnings: 18+ Smut, a little angst, but so much fluff!

Word count: 1900ish

Thor Taglist: @raspberrymama @bitchycherryblossomlove @jennie22feona @innerpaperexpertcloud @thorfanficwriter

Everything Taglist: @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @littlegasps @little-baby-vixen @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @marvelgirl7 @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @fyreball66 @asmigurub @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias

Tags open! Send me an ask or DM if you wish to be in any of these lists :))

.

The events of the snap had affected everyone. Some more severely than the others. Millions had lost families, some mourned the loss of those who sacrificed their lives in the battle, others simply dusted away into oblivion with no signs of returning.

Your ex demi-God boyfriend took it the hardest. His downfall had begun when he took the entire blame of failing to stop the Mad Titan during the battle of Wakanda. His family, his support system was lost long before but he’d still managed to look at the bright side. It was you that he held onto when the times were tough.

Thanos wiped out half of the population along with every last strand of hope Thor had left to believe in himself. After that, he had pushed everyone away, wallowed in self-pity no matter how much he denied and pretended he was just taking a break. He pushed you away too, now that there wasn’t a point to anything he thought it best to set you free, free from the pain he’d put you through over the years, free to lead your life without him.

There came a time when Thor had been down in the dumps, drinking & wasting his life away, you received a call from Brunnhilde from New Asgard, asking for help.

As heart-broken as you were, there was still a part of you that cared about Thor, the part that loved him without knowing his whereabouts before the call, the part that made your hopeless heart beat a little faster every time there was some news regarding your fellow Avengers, or a knock on your door. That part in you made you book a plane ticket to Norway in search of your Thunder God.

.

New Asgard was beautiful, brave Asgardians had rebuilt their lives after losing their home planet. Upon meeting Valkyrie, you learnt that there was a brawl in the local pub initiated by none other than the person who’d come looking for. The damage was severe given the reason for the fight. He’d been denied more alcohol that led to several tables being destroyed and the owner of the pub sporting several bruises to his face.

“He’s not our King, not anymore.”

“That man has lost his way, who wants that in a leader?”

The Asgardians held more anger towards their King that you’d ever known. You understood their side, you did but, you also knew what made him act the way he did. And you had made up your mind to fix it.

The walk to Thor’s cottage was short, the door was left ajar & your nostrils were filled with a stench of old beer and something vile as you entered.

The place was a mess to say the least, old take-out boxes strewn about, clothes and shoes that hid furniture pieces under them, the Stormbreaker resting against the fireplace. There was a groan from upstairs indicating the location of the Asgardian God.

“Are you here with my barrels?” He called out, speech slurred and muffled as it reached you.

“No actually I’m here to restore a former King who has lost his way.”

Your voice made him freeze, he hadn’t heard you in two years, a voice that once filled his heart with joy and love, and the face that once made him so happy. As you pushed the bedroom door open, you saw his eyes meet yours for a second before he turned away to stare out the window.

“Why are you here? I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”

It broke your heart to see his eyes not light up the way they used to upon seeing you, it pained you that he didn’t reach to pull you in his arms and spin you around like he used to.

“I think you do. The old Thor would be delighted to see me, he would make sure the world would melt away when he’d kiss me, the old Thor w—”

“The old Thor is dead. If you came looking for him, I’m sorry but he is long gone.” He replied harshly, still not facing you as he shoulders sagged and you heard him sniffle after some moments of silence.

You stepped closer and cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder coaxing him to look at you. He moved but his eyes were downcast before you grabbed his face in your hands and were met with his mismatched eyes swimming with unshed tears, once well groomed face now a scruffy mess of overgrown beard and unkempt blonde locks.

“Don’t you ever tell me that the old Thor is dead. I know he’s still in there, he’s just hiding beneath this defensive, hurt, slightly sloppy exterior.”

He gave you a watery chuckle, before wiping his nose on the sleeve of his sweater. You took his hand and led him to the bathroom where you began filling water in the bathtub.

“I have missed you (Y/N).” Thor spoke as followed you back out where you removed your jacket.

“I know.” You nodded towards his bedside table that held a picture of you and him taken by Natasha back at the compound when you had fallen asleep on top of him after a mission on the couch. You remembered wondering who had stolen your copy after you thought you misplaced it years ago.

Thor remained clothed as the water filled the tub, eyes downcast again.

“I’m not how I used to be.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

Giving him a reassuring smile, you helped him undress, noticing how self-conscious this man got. You thought of something he’d done when you had your moments of insecurity back when you started dating the Avenger.

Closing the bathroom door, you undressed as well, revealing your curves, battle scars and everything Thor was once so familiar with and had made you believe just how beautiful you were. Now it was your turn to do the same for him.

“What are you doing? Y-you don’t have to—”

“I’m reminding you how secure and loved you made me feel when I was having trouble believing it for myself.”

“You have always been beautiful to me. You always will be.” He said with such surety, almost proudly as if there wasn’t a breakup that had left you both miserable.

You made Thor sit in the tub with his head leaned back for you to clean and he obliged, holding onto your hand the entire time in case he’d been dreaming this entire time & that you would vanish into thin air.

A soft kiss to his forehead later you began working your fingers through his hair, trying to get all the accumulated dirt out. It wasn’t long before Thor’s breath became uneven and he held back tears once more.

“Thor it’s okay to feel overwhelmed. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ve let you down. I’ve let everyone down. I failed at protecting everyone from him.”

“You didn’t fail Thor and you certainly didn’t let anyone down. You’ve lost more than any one of us can ever imagine, you were grieving. You are allowed to grieve. You know what this means. You’re just like the rest of us.”

“But I’m not supposed to be like the rest of you.” He sniffed, holding onto your arms as dry heaves racked his large frame.

“Everyone fails at who they’re supposed to be Thor. It’s okay to mourn, it’s not okay to let yourself be lost in that feeling forever. You lost all of your family but you kept fighting didn’t you? Well the fight’s not over just because he won. We fight everyday, some days harder than others, no matter how difficult it may seem because we owe it to the people we lost.”

You kept rubbing his back while he calmed down, pressing as many kisses to the side of head as you could given the awkward position you were in.

“You were my family (Y/N) and I pushed you away. You didn’t deserve it a-and I’m so so—”

“I don’t blame you, I never did. I still love you Thor, very much. Nothing will ever change that.” You smiled, touching your forehead to his.

“I love you too my beautiful dove.”

He pressed his lips to yours, the kiss a little different from the ones you were used to. He tasted of beer but it didn’t matter, it was still your beloved God of Thunder. The kiss turned hungry when his hands went to the back of your neck to pull you closer while the other went around your naked back, coaxing you into the tub.

Water splashed about and spilled over as you stepped in, straddling his lap before resuming, this time your tongue ran along his bristly lip, biting softly, relishing in the feeling of him again after such a long time.

Thor moved on to pepper your jaw and neck with hurried kisses while his hands roamed over your body, having missed feeling your skin against his, the way your body moulded perfectly against him. He had missed the way you shuddered as his teeth grazed the junction between your neck and shoulder, the way you moaned when he marked a spot there, claiming you as his. He missed the way your breasts felt against his palm, the way your nipples hardened under his touch.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

Thor mumbled between wet kisses against your chest while you pushed his face closer with your hands, wanting to feel as much of him as possible against your skin, a loud gasp emitting from your lips when he rolled his tongue around your nipple before sucking.

Your hips slid against his crotch, desperate for more friction, his shaft rubbing against your folds earning a groan from Thor who suddenly moved your hips, angling you to hover over his erect cock before slowly letting you sink down on him.

The stretch stung a little given how long it had been, though your warmth welcomed him as you held him close, that familiar feeling of being one with Thor returning after a long gap. He buried his face in your neck, soft hands holding your back securely, leaving no space between your bodies as the only sound echoed in the room was of warm water lapping against the sides of the tub and your mingled breaths.

“My love...”

“I’m here.”

You rolled your hips slowly, savouring the feeling of him snug inside you before the need to chase your releases became vital and you both moved in tandem before your end washed over, leaving you writhing in pleasure in Thor’s arms while he held you. Your orgasm triggered his own as he grabbed your hips and began thrusting into you, sending new waves of pleasure coursing through your system.

A few moments after returning to your senses, you realised the water had gone cold & it was time to get out before your skin started pruning but neither of you made any effort of doing so.

“Thank you love.”

“For what?”

“Saving me.”

“You would’ve done it for me.”

“We have to get out some time you know.” You chuckled, lazily drawing patterns on his soft back while he placed kisses repeatedly on your shoulder.

“I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

[thecitythatdoesntsleep]

Vampire Cafes

WARNINGS/TAGS: blood, blood consumption, enslavement, medical torture, unnecessary surgery, normalized human slavery, dehumanization, non-con bloodletting, starvation, wounds, body-horror, needles, gore, abuse, death, kidnapping

PLEASE DO NOT read if ANY of ^these^ triggers could effect you. It isn't worth your mental health and merely for creative purpose. I'd so much rather have you happy and healthy.

All graphic content will always be under a cut.

Anything of my personal vampire lore will be under the tag #vlor

Imagine a world where vampires make up at least half of the population and growing. Society has adapted, for the most part there is peace but things have changed. The new world order is primarily made of the undead and most governmental functions are as well.

Because of this, humans have met their match and are no longer at the top of the food-chain. Naturally, they've lost rights, they've lost a lot of the protection that they had from one another and their rules have been made for them. While the majority of vampires take pity on humans, think of them as children that will never get a chance to learn and many as a vital part of their own existence.

Their lives are not valued as they once were with such severity. Slavery is legal, murder is all but decriminalized between species and while humans are vital, they're easy enough to reproduce and farm. Even if they have no idea that it's being done, their population is kept up by vampire influence and the new 'Law'.

Gory crimes become normal. Loss becomes normal, fear, terror, insecurity becomes normal for human life. And while millions of vampires are kind-hearted citizens like their lesser counterpart, it doesn't take many to send a sense of unease and panic into their 'sister' species as a whole.

But now imagine what 'normal' vampire things would look like, mashed into society and accepted broadly as the new era of life. Fully capable of wiping humans out entirely but smart enough to know that they can't take out their own food supply or over-populate with their kind.

You'd be walking down the street one day and look into a window and see...

...Someone being bitten in public or someone desperately screaming for help as another person drug them off into an alley and drained them dry. People would lose their touch for each other and lose connection with the kindness and concern they'd once share. They would turn silent, uncurious; head down, eyes up.

But surely there's a better way to distribute blood and not have to just randomly terrorize a stranger, right? Something quicker, easier and with a lot less mess.

It only made sense to keep the function of corporate industry alive with some steadfast business. Vampires needed fast food too.

In comes the different versions of vampire cafes or 'blood bins'. Humans are farmed (locally usually) or in shady local businesses, kidnapped to be held for public use. Disease is without worry but what is of good concern is health and how long they can manage to process a human until they're no longer viable.

They want strong, healthy humans that can yield and regenerate fast. So they're fed strict doses of vitamins and mineral packed slop, that stays down no matter what emotional or physical turmoil they suffer. Some keep them high and sedated, making sure that it's as 'humane as possible'. High-end franchises will keep their 'stock' in the back and the bolder venues keep them in aesthetically pleasing tubes.

They'll go as far as dressing them nicely and lighting up their display cases with different décor and neon signs. The only sign of anything slightly off with them is a straw-sized tube jutting from their arm. It isn't inflamed or angry, instead it's not phasing through the skin at all like human phlebotomy. It was surgically installed, implanted in a main artery and capped with a medical grade valve-stem. As if they were tires and pressurized.

This hooked them to the automatic dispensing system. Where an attendant could fill a glass by the customers choosing, pressing it under a nozzle and getting an exact measurement. Digital displays would show them how many more they could get out before entering the 'rest' mode and the system would lower them to the basement to be changed out by another employee.

Not every café was the same, though. Many that operated locally or outside large franchise, were torture chambers for humans. They couldn't afford to buy stock in humans and instead, choose to steal them off the streets. The valve operation is definitely out of the picture so it's down to blunt injury or hack-job intravenous experiments. Age is of no concern, young and old alike but better if no one will interfere with their missing persons.

Imagine the despair of not being able to ever get enough strength gathered to escape? Being drugged constantly and weakened by hunger and blood-loss. Constantly being afraid that they'd take too much because it happened all the time around you. The absolute misery you'd endure watching the others suffer and how many various reactions there can be. Taken down to your absolute limit, just to be force-fed vile concoctions and to feel joy from it because at least the gnawing, aching nausea would go away.

Praying you didn't vomit because it was all you were going to get, no matter how wretched it was. Oh and the infection from all the times they'd try to get blood. Wounds would never heal but they'd keep trying and the amount of struggle to keep finding new places would be unbearable. Botched, at home surgeries and operations galore. The fatigue would be awful and most places never closed, seeing as they were serving all kinds with all habits. Day in, day out, until they got worried they'd kill you and have to go to the trouble of kidnapping more and more people. Then they'd put you in a storage room or off somewhere to rest; which usually meant being locked up in a gutted cooler.

How hopeless, how absolutely hopeless you'd feel. How miserable it would be to be a human and live in the risk of being snatched up and tormented for your blood.

On the flipside... To end on a good note.

Imagine the recovery. The survival. How much it would take to earn that persons trust, (or teach them if they're bred in captivity) and how they would have to readapt to interaction again. Remember how to talk depending on how long they've been held captive. How timid they would be, how much they would accept or deny another persons touch. Every time they see themselves bleed, they fall apart into fits of fear and paranoia. If something pokes them they go irate with sobs and gasps of terror, thinking that they're going back to the darkness to be prodded like a science experiment.

When they're given the chance to sleep, it scares them because the loopy feeling before and after makes them feel like they're drugged or anemic again. How dizzy they would be for the first while that they were saved, how many times they could fall into their saviors arms.

Now what if that savior is a vampire themselves?

The added fear, how hard they would have to work to earn the human's trust and dependency. How they would have to watch themselves carefully to try not to do anything domineering or too roughly by accident. Trying extra hard to not move too quickly or be too over-powering when handing or taking things.

[yoonpobs]

manners maketh women | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: kingsman!AU (loosely inspired lol), enemies to enemies basically (some sexual tension)

warnings: mentions of blood, enemies, dismantling the patriarchy

words: 2, 637

summary: kingsman or alternatively you trying to dismantle the patriarchy by pissing off your partner

“You’re a fucking psychopath!” Valentine spits at you with bloodied gums while he lays on the floor with all the will to live beaten out of him.

You’re much better off. Of course you were. You wouldn’t let someone as vile or unimportant as Valentine ruin your pantsuit because while you thought the establishment was exorbitant, it was still costly and made you look like a bad bitch.

“Says the one who planted chips into people’s head only to blow them up.” You roll your eyes, tossing your blazer over your shoulder as Merlin sighs at the scene behind you when you cock your head towards the pitiful soon-to-be prisoner.

“I thought we said no damage.”

You shrug.

“This is no damage. Couldn’t help that my hand slipped.” You return.

Merlin is about to retort but your teammate stomps out of the abandoned church with his eyes narrowed to your figure that retreats to the comfort of your car.

You almost forget that you weren’t on this mission alone until the presence of your partner appears by your side and you’ve worked with him long enough to know that he’s shooting daggers on the side of your forehead.

“We agreed to bring him back in one piece.” Jungkook snarls at you.

You see that he’s way worse off compared to you. But it could have alluded to the fact that he warded off the rest of the guards that ambushed the two of you when you first arrived. The priority was finding Valentine and making sure that he was captured and under your scrutiny, so you agreed to head off first while Jungkook did the dirty work.

“His limbs are still attached to his body, I don’t see how I didn’t uphold to the end of our agreement?” You stop in your tracks, causing Jungkook to skid in his steps as his chest makes contact with your back.

When you turn around, he’s absolutely furious but that only spurs on the wide grin that appears on your face.

“Valentine looks like he’s been through six wars and a botched plastic surgery attempt!” He hisses.

You roll your eyes, folding your arms across your chest as you take in Jungkook’s growing rage. He’s never been the level-headed one between the two of you but you were also the more infuriating one. You were fully aware of that and you were going to use it to your advantage. You didn’t beckon your way through the misogynistic Kingsman system to be bossed around by some stereotypical posh man who didn’t know how to take no for an answer.

“And that’s what he deserved. I did what I had to do, Jeon.” You retort as venomously as he had.

Jungkook literally growls and you know you’ve annoyed him further because he was the typical Kingsman agent that attempted to uphold all the core values and paraded around the base with the manners maketh man phrase that he loved to milk. You, on the other hand, didn’t believe in that shit at all because you were not mannered and neither were you a man. Jungkook walked the ground like he had a stick up his ass half the time and you had no time to deal with his uptightness.

“We are on a mission, Lancelot. I go by Galahad.” He reminds you but you wave him off, turning around to head towards your car.

Jungkook grits his teeth as he sees Merlin drag a detained Valentine—who leaves a trail of blood in his path—to the van where he’d be brought back to the cells. He couldn’t believe that you had the audacity to go against direct orders from your superior like that! But at the same time, you’ve pulled things like this more than once and rubbed Jungkook the wrong way every time you’d brush off any lament that came from him.

He doesn’t think you were incapable of being a Kingsman agent, although it hasn’t always been that way. But he did believe that you should at least uphold the fundamental values that made Kingsman the reputable secret service it was.

“You act like Jeon is the worst of the names I call you.” You snort.

Jungkook wants to remind you that it’s not and he’s aware but he’s highly exhausted after fending off numerous men on his own while you got to catch the largest bait of the day, your pantsuit hardly creasing in the process.

“Would it kill you to follow orders?” Jungkook snaps.

The two of you reach the car and he snatches the keys from your palm before you can step into the driver’s seat. You raise an eyebrow at his gesture and look him up and down before your bored eyes rest upon his still pinched expression.

“If we get pulled over the police are going to think you’re a runaway.”

Jungkook scowls but enters the car anyway. You follow him shortly into the passenger seat as you immediately tug off the band that kept your hair in a ponytail as you ruffle your hair, slipping off the heels off your feet. You found it absurd that the agency demanded you wear heels onto a field mission purely because it was the Kingsman brand. It wasn’t like you couldn’t fight in them but obviously, it made you slightly slower than you’d like.

“You’re going to shut up and not say a single word during the ride back because I’ve had enough of that smart ass mouth of yours.” Jungkook snaps.

“It’s cute that you think I’m going to listen to you, Jeon.” You pat his thigh in consolation and he just curses under his breath.

Jungkook doesn’t have the energy to argue back because, for every remark he makes, he’s sure you have at least ten responses phrased in different ways to respond with.

“If you called me in for a staring contest then I’m afraid we have to reschedule. I’ve got a bottle of wine and some fried chicken waiting for me in my quarters.” You deadpan.

The man who sits in front of you is unnerved and you expect no less from the current Director of Kingsman. It also wasn’t the first time you’ve sat before him with the very same look marring his face. You know what the conversation is going to be about and he knows that you know.

“Agent Lancelot—”

You scoff when you lean forward, narrowing your eyes at your superior before he purses his lips at your gesture.

“How many times did I tell you to ditch the alias? It’s unnecessary especially since we’re in your office which is debatably the most vaulted place in all of the Kingsman quarters. It isn’t like Valentine is going to come crawling through the vents and demand for my birth certificate.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose because when he hired you after you—impressively—passed the most gruesome and intense interview process with a blink of your eye, he didn’t know what to expect when he took the risk of recruiting the first-ever woman Kingsman.

But now that it’s been years since you’ve made a name for yourself and all other keen women who were looking for the opportunity to train as an agent, he realised that you were not just a skilled agent but a sharp and impenetrable fortress that would never let anyone tell her what to do.

Which was frankly—inconvenient—given the nature of Kingsman work that often relied on partnership and collaboration. But those words weren’t in your dictionary and Namjoon can see the way you look bored before the conversation started as you sit in front of him with a blank expression on your face.

“It’s nice to see you, ______,” Namjoon says dryly, clasping his fists together before leaning forward on his elbows that your faces are closer.

“Are you going to call me out for disobeying orders and bringing back Valentine like butchered meat? If you want an apology then you know you’re not going to get it,” You say blankly before turning in the swivel chair; already halfway off before Namjoon stops you.

“Jungkook has been telling me that you’ve been harder to work with recently.” Namjoon points out.

You scoff.

“Of course he’ll say that. I’m the better agent in the partnership and it bruises his puny masculine ego. Tell him to shove it and deal with it because it’s going to get harder.”

Namjoon shoots you an unimpressed glare before he wills himself to maintain a decent amount of level-headedness as he reasons with you.

“The both of you are talented agents—” Namjoon says slowly and you know he’s only saying that to appease you and not break his neutrality when it came to agents so you roll your eyes at his attempt, “—and because the two of you are always going on the most important missions it’s imperative that you work together.”

“Namjoon.” You blink, “Jeon is the most infuriating individual I have been condemned to meet and I literally have no idea why you won’t just switch me out with—I don’t know—Jin or something. He isn’t as mouthy or pretentious as Jeon.”

Namjoon sighs.

“Firstly, why can’t you ever call him by his first name? And secondly—you know why I can’t do that. Jin is in-charge of international operations and we need you here on domestic land. You and Jungkook are the most qualified agents of the region and it is in my best interest, as well as the nations to have you two work together.”

You wave him off before you push yourself off the chair completely, offering a sloppy salute out to his direction and you see Namjoon’s shoulder deflate at your stubbornness. But before you’re even able to make your way out of the door, you see a face that makes you scowl.

“Talking shit about me behind my back, babe?” Jungkook narrows his eyes at you.

You snort.

“If I wanted to talk shit about you, I’d do it to your face so I can watch your fragile ego shatter in front of my eyes. And—if you don’t want your balls detached from your body and served to you as a door gift then I suggest you never call me babe ever again.”

You’re about to push past him but his hand reaches for your shoulder and stops you with a tight grip as you snap your head to glare at him. You’re about to throw him off you, literally, but Jungkook is also skilled and he sees the telltale signs of your anger for him to defend himself against your attack.

When you pull his arm to lug his body over yours, he manages to lock your grip and bring you into a headlock—chest pressed to your back as he breathes down your hair while you feel the cocky smirk of his spread across his face.

“Let go of me you fucking shithead.” You snarl.

Jungkook snorts and only tightens his grip on you, twisting your chin between his thumb and index finger so you’re glaring directly at his face that is only a mere inches away from yours to give you a taunting grin that you want to slap off his face.

“You’ll never outdo the doer—” He whispers so low that it almost seems like it’s just the two of you, “—baby.”

You take that as a chance to knee him in the stomach and shove him away before you dust your hands on your pants, only to remember that you were still in Namjoon’s office and he likely saw the show that the two of you put on.

“I … I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that,” Namjoon clears his throat before gesturing to the two of you to take a seat as if you weren’t seconds away from walking out that door.

“Look, Namjoon—we—I—don’t need this group therapy session with him, okay? The two of us can work together but that doesn’t mean I’ll listen to what he says. His judgement is clouded by the systemic oppression that Kingsman entrenches to their agents and I won't stand for that.”

Jungkook’s fists tighten at your blatant disrespect to the organisation that employed you, and he remembers every reason why he hates you so much.

“_____,” Namjoon sighs, “I don’t understand why you walked into that interview years ago if you hate everything that Kingsman stands for.”

You clench your fists by your side because of course, he didn’t understand. And of course, Jungkook, Jimin, Jin and even Merlin didn’t understand. They didn’t need the luxury of understanding a system that favoured people like them.

“Then let me spell it out for you both,” You say emphasise each word with a spit.

Jungkook clenches his jaw but remains silent.

“I walked into that interview knowing I was going to ace that shit because I owed that first step to all the women that were used and abused by your Kingsmen. The women that were offered comfort for sex to only be shunned and disposed of by the esteemed agents you call Kingsmen. I am not a Kingsman and I am not Lancelot. I am ______ ______ and I’m a woman who fucking owned every single one of those male agents that day who decided to snicker and laugh at me when they wouldn’t be able to ever walk a mile in my shoes. I’m here because I have a point to prove.”

Namjoon is stunned to silence and you don’t know what triggers your outburst but you suppose its years of repression and having to work alongside a male peer that only sees you as impressive because of your gender and not because of your skills. The comments rubbed you the wrong way and you never looked back since.

“_______ …” Namjoon begins but you glare at him and that’s enough to send him silent.

But you see the way Jungkook’s jaw twitches and you know that sign well enough to know he’s about to say something you won’t like.

“That’s it? All the anger, bitchiness and attitude for you to prove a point?” Jungkook scoffs, “You’re that pathetic?”

“Jungkook—” Namjoon warns.

“You walked into this life and you need to deal with the consequences. I don’t give two shits your intention in Kingsman but you’re here and you’re working for the Kingsman so you better suck all that bitterness up or leave. Don’t you dare disrespect the foundation of what a Kingsman is.” Jungkook hisses.

The expression on your face is thunderous and Jungkook has never seen you like that, ever. Not even when the two of you were arguing head to head and everyone else thought someone was going to end up hurt. No, this is much more … threatening. A look that’s so unfamiliar but familiar enough because it’s the first time he’s seen it directed to him.

“I wonder why you’re so overprotective about the Kingsman name, hm?” You say blankly, “Is it because that your entire identity revolves around it? That you’ve never seen a world with eyes when you weren’t a Kingsman? You’re pathetic, Jeon. You’re nothing without the title but at least I know what I want. You don’t. You’re just hiding behind the suit and weapons to make you feel like a man but you’re just a sorry excuse of a human being that only sees the world through a bigoted lens.”

Jungkook is about to retort but you’re faster, and the action alarms both Namjoon and Jungkook when you—

“I quit.” You smile.

The badge and your key weapon with nothing but a slam to the table.

“______—“ Namjoon stands up but you don’t spare him another glance before you’re out the door.

[newworldriot]

because I'm in a mood™, here's overboss!courier six/porter gage romance shit

Six becoming the Overboss is often played off as an accident because the aim was to pull the Sole Survivor into the job. Really, Nuka World had no idea what they were getting in to.

Gage gets agitated by the nervousness, constantly pushing Six forward with no break. (He changes his tune after he learns why they're anxious often)

Six doesn't understand his violent tendencies and manipulation - at first. Once they meet all of the gang leaders and sees how vile they all can be, Six begins to sway on their opinions. Gage slowly understands why violence in their wasteland can be unnecessary, and pities the courier who just wants everyone to live as peacefully as possible with each other.

At the end of the day, they both learn some new skills from each other and it all balances out. Six learns to throw hands when necessary (especially to keep up appearances) and Gage learns how to hold better conversations and negotiate more like his partner

Six hates the bomb collars the wastelanders are forced to wear, so after they bring power back to the parks, Gage helps them slowly undo all of them over a few days (just to make sure it's hard to notice until it's too late for the raiders). When Six explains why to Gage in the days beforehand, he feels a lot of guilt over helping with that - especially because now he understands what hell it is to wear those things.

I headcanon Gage being roughly 6 foot, so he takes great pleasure in being that much taller than his 5'2 Overboss.

What he won't admit is how sweet he thinks it is that Six snuggles into his chest while sitting in his lap. They just fit together really well height-wise, and Gage revels in being able to hold Six close like that.

If the day ever comes that they make it to the Commonwealth proper and end up face-to-face with Maxson, you bet your ass Gage is gonna stand behind Six to make sure Maxson remembers who he's talking to.

Though, Six's holorifle digging into Maxson's stomach while they threaten him is sign enough (and a huge turn-on for Gage).

Does this mean Six is gonna kill Maxson? Is there some silent agreement that a fight's about to break out? Unsurprisingly, no. Six and Maxson end up having a good laugh over the whole thing before taking up conversation in a more private setting.

Gage is confused by the friendly relationship between the courier and the high elder, but Six and Maxson work together to explain how they met previously and Maxson's horror at finding out what happened to the Overboss. Both kinda mutually agree that they're gonna remain on civil and even good terms until one makes a wrong move. Gage isn't a fan.

He voices his thoughts and Six shrugs it off before they take their leave, raider boyfriend in tow.

Once they get home, they explain that befriending whoever you can creates a support system - essentially, building an army. They like having the friends they do, and they're close to everyone they've made bonds with, but when it comes time for the war to reach its peak, Six will be more than ready - especially with damn near the entire Commonwealth backing them up.

Now he gets why they try so hard to maintain steady relationships with so many people. If the whole affair falls apart, the courier is left without backup.

"Genius as always, boss."

Gage's note to self: Let Six handle the planning in full from now on.

He appreciates their brilliance far more.

He just appreciates them.

And they appreciate him.

if I think of any more shit, I'll update this