#but only once i like them as a person and even then it only hit SOMETIMES

[lalchimiedecupid]

it's all fun and games until I start hating you and I hit you with a large ass essay that expresses my frustration and exhaustion with your neglect and the hurt you've caused me.

Exemple:

To my dearest boy who broke my heart and left it to pieces with one missing shard in hand that keeps it from healing:

Love. A vile and twisted thing you remain in my eyes. For I have never loved someone and got to keep them in my heart for all eternity. It seems like the universe, God, have odd ways of pulling their strings when it comes to love, slow, torturous and often unexpected goodbyes grace us at the end.

It's been six months since you left me. Six long and excruciating months, and I can not put into words the disdain I feel towards you. Yet, I find myself staring longingly at you, find my heart racing at your mere sighting. You've become a dependency of mine, destructive yet fulfilling like the crimson drink I drown myself in. Like the pills I abused my body, my organs and my mind with. You'd bring me a sense of Euphoria, but what did it leave me with once your presence was gone? Pain. So much pain I can not even manage to put it into words. You were my oxygen. My will. My life. My sin and my soul. You were all that I needed. You were all that I wanted and still want even more. What should I call it? Soulmates who were never meant to be? Right person wrong time? Strangers to friends, friends into lovers and what now, strangers again? How low do I have to stoop down in order to make you want me again? I know you still want me, I can see it in your lingering eyes, yet you offer me silence and silence all over again. What did you do to me? What more could you possibly want from me? How much do you want to see me beg and try to make it up to you for all the hurtful words you've heard from my friends? How many "I'm sorry" do you want to hear fall from my lips and seem to always land onto deaf ears? What more do you want from me? Why do you ignore me again when you promised to be my friend? Was I not enough for you? Is it that hard to forget the girl you wanted beforehand? I know I am delusional to hold onto a love that clearly has perished long ago, but please for the love of God, let me cry into your arms for the first and last time so I can truly let you go. Let me sob my heart and guts out to you just for a few moments at least, I do not ask for more. Let me confess my desires , my dreams, my secrets and my pain to you. Even if they shall fall onto those ears of yours that you turn deaf on me every single time I try to get your attention. Let me. Please, allow me this. Let me find solace in your embrace even if it's cold and unwanted. I'd get down on my knees for you and let you kill me with your coldness. Let you freeze my heart and devour it whole if only a piece of me gets to be held by you, my darling boy. You have reduced me to a ghost of the strong woman I once were. And I am ashamed of myself for it, yet I can not even blame you for my downfall, because despite it all, I was an accomplice as well. Destroy me for all you want , I'll always come crawling back to you, with all my broken parts and my gaping wounds, bleeding into your own hands.

Just one last embrace is all I ask of you. I know you'd refuse me more. You cruel bastard. You heartless devil.

Go on and destroy me and watch me build back my pieces only to destroy me again. Go on and ruin me. Go on and put unnecessary distance between the both of us, because you are far too much of a coward to face the truth.

The truth is that you want me but are far too afraid of commitment, of new beginnings that you'd rather stick to the past and hope for the best. Hurt me. Hurt me all you want, but you'd never rebuke me from my church. From my sanctum, from your arms, from your hold. Rebuke me for my sins of loving you but know that I still hold you in high regards, that I still pray for your well-being, for your success, and your future. Know that against all odds..

I still love you.

—C.A

oh to be loved by a poet … 🎀

[heavyhitterheaux]

Love Bites (NSFW)

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: You bite your husband out of affection that leads to something else

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by a gorgeous anon ���

Series Masterlist

Do not engage if you are underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

“Did… baby…. Did you just bite me?” Joe asked as he glanced over at you noticing that you had now moved your position and was laying your head on his shoulder.

After you had bitten it of course.

“No.”

“Then what did I just feel on my shoulder? You know… the one that you're laying on?”

“I don't know. Beats me.” You replied as Joe was still eyeing you.

“I don't believe you.” He told you as he turned back to the movie that was playing on the television.

“Okay? And what am I supposed to do with that information?” You asked him as you picked your head up to slowly bite down once more. This time on his upper arm.

“BABY!”

“I can't help it! You look so biteable today! Well everyday but I have to stop myself because I would literally bite you for hours. I watched your presser and went FERAL.”

“You literally go feral from the moment you open your eyes. And is that why you sent me a text calling me a whore?”

“Says the person who got me pregnant. And yes those are MY ARMS not anyone else's!” You told him as you softly bit down again except this time leaving a kiss on the same spot in your path.

Joe didn't say anything in response except slip his tank top over his head and throw it across the room as he eyed you.

“Get over here and sit on my lap.”

“Oh?”

“Are you going to continue to stare at me or do what I told you?” Joe asked as you felt a light smack to your ass since your body was already slightly turned towards him.

He didn't even bother waiting for you to move before he literally pulled you onto his lap.

Several kisses were placed on your lips as he reached underneath the t-shirt that you were wearing and started to play with the waistband of your thong.

To give him easier access, the t-shirt was pulled over your head and added to the pile that Joe had originally started. Seeing you weren't wearing a bra, Joe smirked and began to place kisses on both of them, but before he did, little bites were placed on your sensitive skin first.

The wetness between your thighs began to increase and you knew on days like this that you needed for your husband to give you his undivided attention.

Joe's mouth found its way back to yours as your thong was pulled to the side and his fingers started to lightly graze across your folds making you moan as one of his fingers was placed inside.

He wasted no time in breaking the kiss and telling you to stand up so that he could get rid of the rest of his clothes along with the last piece of clothing that was covering you.

As he put you back in your original spot on his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck as you slowly eased your way down making a moan escape from both of your mouths.

When you got into a comfortable pace and began to ride him, Joe took this opportunity to leave small bites accompanied with kisses all across your body where he could reach.

“Mmm, baby.” You breathed out as you threw your head back in pleasure and Joe held onto your hips tighter.

He then placed one of your nipples in his mouth and bit down lightly before he began to suck on it making the moans escaping from your lips grow louder.

“Shiiiit.”

“You better ride me and act like you want it. How bad do you want to cum, baby?” Joe whispered in your ear and your only response was riding him faster.

“That's what I fucking thought.” He told you as you felt another light smack to your ass.

Joe could tell you were tiring out and decided to help you from underneath. After a while his movements became sloppy and both of you hit your peak at the same time.

Your arms were still wrapped around Joe's neck as you were trying to catch your breath and moved to rest your head on his shoulder.

As he was rubbing small circles along your back, you lifted your head to kiss him, but as you did, you also bit down at the same time and could feel Joe smirk as you continued to kiss him.

“If this is the result of me biting you, I need to do it more often.”

“Be careful what you wish for, baby. Now lay down because I'm nowhere near done with you.”

[am-i-interrupting]

Across the River | Viktor x Jinx’s Older Sibling

Chapter 4 | Sleepy Studies

Summary: After the explosion and disappearance of Vi, you take your little sister across the river to Piltover. You struggle to keep the two of you afloat but manage to get Jinx to the academy. This is where she procures an internship that changes your lives.

“What is your sister like?” Viktor asked during one late night.

“Why?”

“Simply curious. I was an only child.”

“Okay,” Jinx said slowly, looking Viktor up and down. “Well, they’re like. . . Geez, I don’t know. I mean, when I was little I spent waaay more time with them than with V— We’ve always been close. I don’t really know how to describe it.”

Viktor noticed her cut off and raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t question.

He tapped something Jinx wrote twice. She looked down and her lips curled up. She wiggled her pencil in her hand for a moment before she flipped it and erased what she’d written, replacing it with something else.

“Perhaps phrasing it differently will help? What is it like having siblings?” the question phrased plural on purpose.

Jinx shrugged. “I mean, you’ve got someone to look up to, I guess. Someone who’s your friend and your bully all wrapped up into one present and shoved in your hands but the wrapping paper is kind of wet which is weird because that’s not how presents are supposed to be, right? It’s kind of off putting because it’s kind of gross. Then you open it up and look at the box and the box is weird too. It’s like purple instead of brown. And then when you finally open the box, it’s like all your insecurities are there in the shadows and then you put it in the light and boom! Unconditional love that you definitely don’t deserve but it’s hidden because of insults and petty drama.”

A pause.

Viktor blinked once, twice.

Jinx looked him up and down.

“Does that make sense?”

“None at all.”

“Oh.”

She was quiet for a moment. She looked off into the space before her. Unmoving, slightly unnerving.

She sniffed. She shrugged. She bounced back, leaning into his personal space. “Welp! That’s the best I got.”

Viktor shook his head with a bemused slight quirk to his lips. “Alright, so,” he began, pointing at some of the runes.

The rest of the night passed by until it was closer to early morning. Viktor stretched his arms out behind his back. Jinx was standing, leaning her back against the table, bending backwards. She’d taken out her pins that held her bun in place and long braids pooled on the table, one even hanging off.

“Do you think that trees cry when they’re cut down?” Jinx asked. “That they know they’re going to die?”

“And I will take that as our sign to call it,” Viktor said.

Jinx gave an over exaggerated groan in reply but Viktor could tell by the way she was twirling the end of one of her braids and occasionally hitting her face with it, she was feeling the pull of sleep begin to tug.

She tilted her hips towards the table and moved her leg. In one fluid motion she was upright. Then she almost fell. Quickly she righted herself and shot Viktor a giant smile.

Viktor grabbed his crutch. He situated it beneath his arm and curled his fingers around the handle.

Jinx let her body weight all go to one foot as she kept the door open. The only thing which prevented her from falling was her hold on the doorknob.

When he walked through, she followed him.

“Ow! Shit!” she yelled.

Viktor’s head whipped back and her braid had gotten caught between the doors. She jerked the door open and yanked her braid out of the way. It hit his leg and the door closed.

“I see why you keep your hair up,” Viktor said.

Jinx scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I like my braids being down, even when they do get caught on things.”

“May I ask why that is?”

“Because, they keep me grounded. Without their weight I feel like my head is floating away from me,” she said.

“Then why don’t you wear them down?” he questioned.

“Stupid Upper City people,” she muttered under her breath. “They think it’s ‘unhygienic’ because they drag on the floor. Yeah, they do and guess what! I clean them every day. They don’t even drag on the floor unless I’m hunched over.”

“I didn’t think you the type to let others people’s opinions bother you,” Viktor told her.

“I don’t! Normally. It’s just doing all these things and following all these stupid fucking rules is how I got here,” she said with a pointed gesture at the academy floors. “I can’t lose that now. Sis worked too hard to get me here.”

Viktor could empathize with the struggle. Being not only from the Undercity but also disabled prevented an entire load of problems up here. He’d take them though, over the polluted air. At least here he could breathe.

Viktor held the door open for Jinx. He waited until she was a decent bit away before letting the door fall closed.

“Let me haul you a taxi,” Viktor said, worried for the girl in her tired state.

She shrugged but didn’t fight him.

They sat in the backseat of the taxi. Jinx’s braids pooled in the floor.

She scooted closer to him. She slowly pushed her hand between his arm and torso until he tentatively let her wrap their arms together. Her head immediately plopped down on his shoulder. He tensed.

“I don’t even get to do my building anymore up here,” she said as she nuzzled her face against his shoulder.

“Building?” he asked as he forced his body to relax.

“Yeah, before we came up here, I used to build all sorts of gadgets. I mean, I still do but I can’t do it as often. I can’t even find a place to test my bombs and since the Industrialist took over the Undercity, we don’t go down there much. Just on special occasions.”

“You build bombs?”

Jinx laughed a bit. “Yeah.” She closed her eyes and sank against him. “Smoke bombs—“ internally he sighed in relief— “real bombs, guns.”

“Huh,” was all he could say.

The rest of the ride was relatively silent. That is until Jinx started snoring and some drool seeped through his shirt. He didn’t make any attempt to move her though.

The automobile came to a halt. With a quick word to the driver and careful movement, he slipped out. He walked into the apartment building and knocked the door labeled 07.

A couple long moments passed. He raised his hand to knock again as it but it jerked open.

“The fuck do you want at one in the— Oh, it’s you. Hi,” you said as you processed who exactly stood in front of you.

Viktor felt his stomach do the smallest twist. Your hair was a mess. Your shorts were hanging off one hip and up too high on the other. A strap of the tank top you wore was twisted.

“Jinx is asleep in a taxi. I would bring her in myself but ah,” he gestured with his crutch.

“Oh, yeah,” you said as you walked out of the threshold of the apartment. “She sleeps like the dead.”

You yawned as you walked with him to the taxi.

Jinx’s head was lulled forward. Her chin touched her clavicle but still she snored on.

You crawled a bit into the automobile and put your hands beneath her legs and her back. You pulled her closer to you until you could heave her up in your arms. Her head bobbled and smacked you in the chin. She just groaned and used her hand to push your face away.

“Ow,” you said in a monotoned voice. “Anyway, thanks for getting her home.”

“Of course, it was my pleasure. Do you need me to open the door for you?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

Inside you put Jinx to bed. You slipped off her shoes, pulled her vest down her arms, undid her belt. You undid the buttons of her shirt and slid on an oversized one before slipping off her button up and pulling off her pants.

She pulled the blanket around her and face planted in her pillow.

“Thanks, sis,” she mumbled, half asleep.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said.

Still, you moved her face so she wouldn’t suffocate on her pillow and brushed her bangs out of her face. You placed a kiss right above her brow.

Then you grabbed your own covers to wrap yourself in and laid back on the couch where you’d been, wondering why you felt all warm inside by the man who kept caring for your sister with you.

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ f1 masterlist

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... 𝐢'𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

✩ : as the 2024 season comes to an end, so does the time you have left to finally confess your feelings to carlos

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : carlos sainz

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : pure A N G S T

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1,7k

✍︎ : i'm SO SORRY it took me this long to write, but i was literally swamped with school work and i had no time to do anything. anyway, i hope you like it because i put my soul and tears into it (i'll probably write some cute christmas themed one-shots to recover from this, don't worry 🙃).

enjoy 🩷❤️

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Wrong.

If you had to use any word to describe the situation you found yourself in, it would’ve been wrong.

Everything felt out of place: the laughs, the chattering, even the clinking of champagne glasses. It was all too loud, almost as if everyone was trying to fill the void that loomed in the air.

Though, now that you thought about it, ‘fake’ actually fit the scene better. To your ears, the jokes that rang across the motorhome were nothing but a lame attempt to lighten up the mood, every word sounding empty and meaningless. Each one of the persons crowding the room were just actors playing their part in a show they’d been rehearsing for months, and between them stood the main character, the best liar of them all.

Carlos had been smiling the entire night, going along with the setup for some reason that your brain really couldn’t seem to grasp. What was the point of celebrating his departure, even worse when the people he was hugging with such warmth were the same ones who’d dropped him from the team to replace him?

As for you, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him: every time you did, you caught the flicker of hurt hiding behind the forced grin he'd carefully plastered on his face, the sight making you feel sick to your stomach.

To be honest, you didn’t try to approach him at all, the mere thought of confronting him keeping you away. What was the point, anyway? He was leaving Ferrari, and nothing you might say or do could ever change that.

You hated it. You hated that you had to stand there and watch him leave, you hated the team for making him, you hated yourself and how powerless you felt, you hated Carlos… especially the way you didn’t hate him at all.

It wasn’t something you’d planned: it just happened. Somewhere between the race debriefs, the jokes, and even the fights, you’d inevitably fell for him. What a shame you were only realizing it now.

You avoided him all night, slipping into the shadows every time he came too close or tried to approach you, ignoring the pang of guilt that hit you when you saw the half-smile he flashed falter. His eyes were questioning, almost pleading, burning holes right through you as you turned your back to him once again. You told yourself that was the only way you could survive the “party”… or so you thought.

You knew it was coming, and yet when the lights dimmed and your teammates’ voices lowered to whispers your heart dropped to your stomach, all the noise from before replaced by a piercing ringing in your ears.

The video.

The wide screen suddenly lit up, its brightness almost blinding in the dark room, the clips playing out on it in quick flashes: Carlos’ first podiums, his maiden victory with Ferrari, the celebrations with the team and the Tifosi, the challenges with Charles… each one of them was a dagger to the chest which twisted in a wound that had been bleeding for months now.

The motorhome had fallen silent, the stillness interrupted from time to time by a choked laugh or a quiet sniffle that echoed like gunshots. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, unable to look at the taped moments without your sight getting blurry, forcing yourself not to let it wander over the faces that surrounded you—until you eventually did, and that was the worst mistake of your life.

Carlos’ eyes were glistening under the violent screen lighting, puffy and bloodshot from the tears he’d clearly already shed, which stained his cheeks and slightly parted mouth.

The walls started closing in on you, your breath coming out in shallow gasps as you felt a lump tightening your throat, panic rising in your chest. You couldn’t see him like that.

You should’ve stayed. For him. You should’ve been close and hugged him, like everyone else was doing now that the video had ended, but you couldn’t.

So you ran like a coward.

You stumbled back, bumping into people that you didn’t really see, mumbling weak “Sorry” in their direction, until a hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks.

“Where are you going?” He put it as a question, but the concern in his tone made it sound more like a warning, almost as if he already knew the answer.

“Let me go. Please,” you breathed out, the words painfully scratching your throat as you let them out. He didn’t budge. “Charles–”

“No, listen to me,” he said firmly, his hold tightening slightly more to prevent you from getting away. “He needs us. All of us.” He searched your eyes with his, a quiet request in them: we have to be strong for him.

“He doesn’t need me. Not like this,” you muttered, shame washing over you as you shrugged his hand off and finally reached the door, rushing outside like your life depended on it.

It was pouring, but you couldn’t care less; in fact, the cool raindrops were soothing against your burning skin, their sound drowning out the thoughts that had been running through your mind relentlessly all night.

You didn’t hear his steps, either.

“Why are you out here?” Carlos’ voice cut through the storm like a knife, and you froze. He’d followed you.

You didn’t turn around. Instead, you swallowed back the tears you hadn’t even noticed had started streaming down your face, mixed with the rain that soaked through your clothes. “Go back inside. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“I don’t care,” he shot back harshly, maybe more than he intended to, because he quickly added: “Why are you acting like this? Did I do something?”

“No,” you replied flatly, the genuine confusion in his tone making it harder to keep yours steady. “I just needed some air.”

“So what, you just left without saying anything?” He stepped closer, frustration bleeding through his words.

“It’s your party, Carlos, not mine. And it’s not that deep.”

“Not that–do you hear yourself? This “party” is my last one here at Ferrari; we’re supposed to say goodbye.” His voice cracked, followed shortly after by the walls you were struggling to keep up.

“I’m sure there are plenty of people in there who are dying to say–”

“Dios mío, do you even care that I’m leaving?” he spit out, the venom in his words hitting you like a slap right in the face. “Of course I care–” “Then look at me! Please, at least look at me.” He was so close now that you could feel his shaky breaths ruffling your hair, his warmth inches away from you, so familiar and yet so distant.

Slowly, you turned around, your vision blurry as you took in the sight of him: he was completely drenched in rain, the fireproof he was still wearing from the race clinging to his body, his usually perfect hair sticking to his forehead, and he looked so effortlessly handsome it made your heart ache.

“And now?” You let out a bitter laugh that sounded more like a sob. “What do you expect me to say? That I’m happy for you? Because if that’s it, I’m sorry but I’m not. I don’t care if I sound selfish, and if that makes me a horrible teammate then be it, but at least I’m not a fake friend like half of the people in there. So yes, Carlos, I care, I care so much that I couldn’t stay inside and watch you act like you didn’t.” The words had spilled out of your mouth before you could stop them, leaving you breathless once you came to a halt.

Carlos blinked a few times, taken aback by your sudden outburst. Then, what you’d actually said clicked in his mind.

“I don’t care? You’re the one who’s been avoiding me all night–”

“Carlos, stop,” you choked out, tears welling up in your eyes once again at his sharp tone.

“No,” he said, firmly. “Not until you tell me what’s really going on.”

“It’s not that simple, okay?” Your voice cracked as it raised, trying to outshout both the storm that surrounded you and the one raging inside your chest.

“Then make it simple!” He yelled too, but his words sounded like a cry for help. That made you finally snap.

“I love you, Carlos! Is that simple enough for you? Because for me it’s not. It hurts so fucking much knowing that I can’t do anything anymore, that I’m too late, and it’s… easier this way. Distancing myself, I mean. I prefer walking away from you on my own than having you taken away from me.”

Heavy silence stretched between the two of you after your voice trailed off, your words still lingering in the damp air as you just stared at each other for what felt like ages.

“Say something, please.” You were the one begging now, his numbness worse than any sentence you’d heard tonight. “Shout, scream, just–”

He didn’t let you finish, his lips finding yours in a desperate, urgent kiss that tasted like tears and regrets. You poured every ounce of you into it, your hands roaming over each other and pulling you impossibly closer, almost as if you wanted to melt together and become a whole, so that nothing could ever separate you anymore.

When you parted, he pressed his mouth to your forehead, his hands cradling your face like you were the most delicate and precious porcelain doll in the world and he was afraid he might break you; too bad he already had.

“I love you,” he then whispered against your wet skin, before letting his lips fall to your right cheek. “And I’ll miss you…” he pressed a kiss on it, then moved to the other. “… so much,” he left a third one, capturing the single tear that had escaped your eye.

“I’ll miss you, too,” you breathed out, words getting lost in the howling wind.

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms as the rain soaked you both, washing away the tears that silently strolled down your face, and with them the promise of a future that ended before it even started.

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©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[illuminatedferret]

"At this point, I might as well just tell it to you straight. I've got a whole bunch of opinions about you." "Uh... well... I knew that already. For ages now," Xie Lian said. "Oh really?" Mu Qing said coldly. "Then do you know that I often thought you relied on your status too much- that even though you were His Highness the Crown Prince, even though you had good fortune, your skills weren't that much better than mine?" "..." "I also thought that you probably only liked doing all those good deeds for show, because you wanted all the praise and flattery. And that you only helped me because of that- I was the perfect subject for you to demonstrate your sympathy and kindness on. To be honest, some of my opinions haven't changed, even now." (Vol. 8, pg. 54-55)

This does not sound like a guy who has/had a good opinion of Xie Lian.

This sounds like a guy who thinks Xie Lian is an arrogant nepo baby who does good deeds for the optics. And while he mentions Xie Lian's circumstances, it's all couched in what Xie Lian is doing with them. If there is a place in the novel where I'm meant to take away that Mu Qing's issues with Xie Lian were actually with his circumstances, please point it out to me. Because from where I stand, it looks like Mu Qing spends most of the novel with a pretty poor opinion of Xie Lian. He definitely feels resentment over the (original) differences in their stations, but that resentment very clearly rolls over into his resentment regarding Xie Lian and what he sees Xie Lian doing with his station.

Not only that, we see him react positively more than once to Xie Lian suffering/doing bad things. He's a little "cheered" to learn Xie Lian's living in a shack (1.219). He's in an "excellent mood" when Xie Lian is put under house arrest, and he's "uncontrollably excited" to think Xie Lian is responsible for the Gilded Banquet Massacre (2.183). He's smug and passive-aggressive when they're talking about Xie Lian's past as General Hua (1.323) He also accuses Xie Lian of only offering to help 'his general' re: the fetus spirit in hopes of sabotaging his case (5.55). All this is to say, we see throughout canon that this guy does not think highly of Xie Lian. They parted ways on bad terms, and Mu Qing spent 800 years convinced Xie Lian hated him. It took him seeing Xie Lian again after 800 years and being hit in the face again and again with how good he is to finally start admitting both his negative opinions and that despite them, he still admires Xie Lian "more often than not." (8.55)

You also mention how Xie Lian and Mu Qing might have been different if they'd swapped places. But they do swap places!. Xie Lian spends 800 years scavenging for scraps with the worst luck possible. Mu Qing spends 800 years in the heavens, one of Thee most powerful men in the Three Realms. One stays kind and generous, the other stays skeptical and paranoid. Childhoods can be formative, yes, but there comes a limit on when we can attribute everything to a difficult childhood rather than a person's character, and the feasibility gets really stretched when we're talking about characters who have been alive for over 800+ years. TGCF definitely focuses more on nature rather than nurture, for good reason. It's a central theme of the novel.

TGCF makes it clear: to change or to stay the same are both choices. Staying the same is not a default action- often, (especially under pressure) it is an active choice someone makes. Mu Qing had 800 years to unpack his issues and grow as a person. He didn't. I find it both lazy and boring to throw everything about Mu Qing under the label of 'virtually sealed' because he had a difficult childhood, especially when we see none of said childhood. On top of that, you're assuming Mu Qing likely would have been a better person had he been in Xie Lian's position, but the opposite is just as possible- who's to say being a prince wouldn't have made him worse? Look at Qi Rong. Xie Lian's parents are permissive as hell. That Xie Lian turned out how he did speaks to his character, not the people around him. And in canon Mu Qing may dislike being compared to the Crown Prince he once served, but I imagine that if their positions were swapped, he would have hated even more being outshone by a mere servant.

Also, forgive me if this is unwelcome, but I feel like your argument would be much stronger if you relied on textual evidence from the book from phases of Mu Qing's life that we actually see- for example, I do believe that watching Xie Lian crash and burn in Book 2/4 definitely discouraged him from ever sticking his neck out for someone else. It would discourage me! But talking about Mu Qing's childhood as crucial for understanding him when we get maybe a few sentences about it isn't very compelling. Mu Qing is an interesting character with a lot of depth and complexity, but reducing him down to 'he couldn't help it, and it was always about their stations anyway' does him a disservice.

There's something to be said about how Mu Qing and Jun Wu both held these ideas about Xie Lian and who he really is as a person- specifically, that his kind and forgiving nature is a lie, and deep down he's actually just like them. These are ideas Mu Qing and Jun Wu spent centuries believing, refusing to be convinced otherwise until they had no other choice.

But that's where their similarities end. Because while Mu Qing resents Xie Lian for his good character, he also honestly admires him for it. Jun Wu, on the other hand, 'loves' Xie Lian, but grows angrier each time he's reminded of how different they really are. And so I think it's very fitting that when Mu Qing finally swallows his pride and admits his preconceptions and faults to Xie Lian, it's on the Heavens-Crossing Bridge, the literal wreckage of Jun Wu's hopes and dreams.

[actuallyjustabiscuit]

Jax’s behavior is legit pretty fascinating

Yes it’s time I ramble about the purple twink.

Fast Food Masquerade did something crazy in that it actually got me to start empathizing with the asshole because Jax’s visible frustration throughout this adventure was too real.

And in fact, it’s why I think Jax was acting so “different” towards the latter half of the episode.

This adventure was Too. Damn. Real.

Now, Jax’s character is actually really simple. He even sums up his whole schtick in the pilot.

“I’m fine with doing whatever, as long as I get to see funny things happen to people.”

Then in a hilarious bit of instant karma, promptly gets hit in the face with a gloink

The “-who aren’t me” part of that self description pretty much goes without saying.

Immediately after this happens, Jax’s little laidback exterior gets so rattled that he suddenly feels the need to take control and starts assigning tasks to everyone. And his casual attitude only returns once he feels like he’s not in any position for ridicule, by redirecting the potential for ridicule onto others. This is his defense mechanism.

Jax needs to feel in control, so he deliberately controls whatever situation he’s in to get the results he wants.

Something that I’ve always appreciated about Jax from a meta perspective is that he’s a character who actively moves the story forward, usually because he wants to satisfy his urge to create chaos.

And that’s the main thing about Jax, he’s really destructive.

Like…almost pointlessly destructive.

But, y’know what? It makes sense. Because he’s in a video game.

Where else can you be as needlessly and excessively chaotic than in a game where you can do pretty much anything because nothing is real?

Jax can hurt whoever and wreck whatever because if he’s living by video game logic, then there are no lasting consequences to his actions.

Jax even goes so far as to refer to Pomni, and by extension the other trapped humans, as a “character” in the pilot. Which goes to show how little he wants to consider them as people.

You can’t really hurt a character. And if used correctly, a character can be entertaining.

And that’s all Jax really wants out of his new life in the Circus, entertainment. Because the worst thing you can be while stuck in a game is be bored.

But of course, even in games, your actions have certain consequences that are just unavoidable.

And Episode 4 really beat Jax’s yellow teeth in with that not-so-fun little reminder. Because this bit right here

Pretty much was the precedent for how bad Jax was gonna get it this time.

And it all starts with Gangle absolutely refusing to let his usual bullshit slide by personally making sure that there will be consequences.

This is the first crack in Jax’s mask, he’s visibly concerned and annoyed that he no longer is allowed to be himself lest he risks getting punished. And even more baffling is that for the first time, Gangle asserts her power over him. She actually does something about his behavior, ripping the wind right out of his sails. Not only that but she continually enforces her authority, making it harder on him to get the upper hand again.

Now his interaction with Zooble is really interesting, because it’s the first time we see him at his most normal.

I don’t think he’s trying to tease them here, I feel like he’s genuinely curious about Zooble’s way of “playing” the game, because remember, it’s been a long time since they’ve been on an adventure together, if at all. Zooble’s excuse of wanting to avoid punishment makes sense because they witnessed first hand that Caine’s unstable personality is capable of some legitimate danger.

Of course, Jax believes that there isn’t any real risk involved. The only immediate menace to him and his current desire to just get through the day, is Gangle and her new mask.

At this point he’s not trying to be destructive or disruptive. He’s fully apathetic, because being forced to act like a minimum wage salary employee is not fun in the slightest. He can’t make things fun for himself, so he refuses to participate entirely.

As the clock mocks him with every slow tick, his mask chips more and more.

Jax isn’t saying this to be calculatingly rude or hurtful, he’s not doing this to upset Gangle. He’s being sincere, which is why he’s not smiling.

Because Gangle is much easier to push around and go along with whatever he wants her to do when she’s in Tragedy mode. She’s more “fun” that way.

In other words, he really hates this new dynamic they’ve got going on.

But this little comment, just makes things even worse for him because now Gangle goes from enforcing her authority to straight up abusing it by letting herself abuse him for a change.

It’s crazy how Jax’s main concern here is making sure this torture scene is just between them. He really hates being humiliated, more so than getting physically hurt.

The man has some serious issues, but c’mon we already knew that.

So Jax is finally getting a taste of his own medicine and it completely emasculates him. To the point where he just defaults to doing whatever Gangle tells him to do just to avoid feeling like that again. Now the mask is fully stripped off, he’s openly exasperated and powerless. On top of that he has no real impulse to ridicule or ruffle anyone’s feathers anymore, because for the first time in probably a long while, he’s even more miserable than everyone else.

And what does misery love?

Company

As someone who’s worked in retail for a while, nothing helps keep you sane more than having a little of bit of camaraderie when struggling to survive in corporate hell.

Something that really stood out to me in this episode is the limited use in background music, especially when in Spudsy’s, where you either get muzak to sell the ambiance of a public eatery or silence with the occasional machinery noise.

And yeah, that’d be enough to make shit as immersive as possible. It’s not a coincidence that the restaurant looks like a McDonald’s when Gooseworx even said it was directly modeled after it. It’s uncanny, how real this setup feels.

Uncomfortably uncanny.Jax seething at the clock is a relatable struggle.

The mask immediately comes back on once Jax no longer has any obligation to stick around.

But Jax can’t even enjoy his freedom. His day is officially over, but the sting of the experience still lingers. The adventure wasn’t just boring or frustrating, it was humbling, in every terrible way. This wasn’t a game, it was real life.

And I think the last kick in the teeth was this license plate waiting for him in the parking lot (Why did Caine make them drive “home”? That’s just extra)

One is the loneliest number

Jax doesn’t hide the fact that he’s an asshole, he’s almost proud of it. He practically relishes getting a rise out of everyone. He is well aware that nobody likes him, but I think this where he starts realizing that it actually bothers him.

Everyone has talked about that very brief moment where Jax’s expression changed towards the end of Candy Carrier Chaos, when Ragatha was talking about Kaufmo’s funeral and we get to see him actually get sad for a change, before immediately shaking it off and stomping away in irritation.

Jax showed no concern over Kaufmo’s abstraction in the pilot, so why would he feel sad about it in that moment? Does he secretly care about his fellow humans and just doesn’t want to admit it?

Maybe. But personally, I think the others choosing to morn those who’ve abstracted like they’re dead makes him seriously uncomfortable. Because it serves as a reminder that even in this world, there are still major consequences when some things aren’t taken seriously.

Jax doesn’t want to consider real life consequences. None of them even look like real people, so why should he bother treating everyone like real people?

So when he sees everyone else getting closer and being good to each other, it’s annoying and weird. The idea that they need to look out for one another feels pathetic. Treating abstraction seriously means it’s a real danger, and that would mean that he’s also susceptible to experiencing it one day.

And when you’ve built up a reputation over making everyone miserable, who’s gonna wanna remember you?

In a show that’s clearly all about building relationships, Jax’s destructive behavior is really gonna cost him.

[muletia]

Need to cum in obsessed!Orion so much u can hear it sloshing around in his forge. I want him to walk happily into the base and everybot to hear what I did to him. My precious cute boy<33 I want to make u full n dumb with the idea of carrying my sparklings ^^

anons as always being relatable because GOD DAMN THIS IS HOT AND WHAT I WOULD GIVE TO DO THIS TO HIM

𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

headcanons

cw: valveplug, dom!reader, sub!orion, creampie, breeding kink, overstimulation

word count: 400

Orion is wonderful in the sense that you can do whatever you please with him, and he’ll still thank you for it, because attention from you is sacred to him, and he intends to savor it like the finest energon. The only issue is that once you spoil him and an idea firmly takes root in his processor, Orion forgets how to hit the brakes. Or worse, he gets rid of them entirely.

By turning him into your personal cum tank, you’re introducing him to a new narrative path — one he’ll want to repeat endlessly. Especially once he accepts that being sparked is essential to his existence and starts dreaming of carrying a sparkling within him. And since he’s a yapper who won’t stop talking during interfacing, you’ll hear about it constantly; deep in subspace, he’ll even start telling you what your future sparklings will look like and that they’ll surely have your eyes. How sweet. It’s just a shame you can’t understand a word he’s saying because after a while, the only sound escaping his mouth is incomprehensible, garbled nonsense.

I think he’d even start urging you to fill him with as much cum as possible. Until he can physically see how much he’s taken in and hear the sound of your fluids moving inside him, ready to create new life. And he’s so heartbroken when he can’t hold it all, when the mixture of his transfluid and your juices spills out of him because his valve is already overflowing. He’d probably cry over it, devastated by the thought that what he couldn’t keep inside might have been the key to creating your sparklings. He’d even try to push it back in, even though his valve is completely wrecked, swollen, and overstimulated, with every touch only riling him up further.

And afterward, after the entire process of aftercare, when the high has worn off and he’s ready to return to his comrades, he’d dare to tenderly caress his abdomen, content with the feeling of fullness, warmth, and being stuffed with your love, patiently waiting for your sparkling to come into existence <3. (Did I mention he’s delusional?)

Then, of course, it turns out you’ve stuffed him to his absolute limit because one of his teammates eventually points out that he’s fucking leaking from the interface panel… and it ain't pure transfluid...

[johnbrand]

Laundry Mishap

“Hey dude,” Blake greeted, closing the door and locking it behind him.

Aaron did not bother looking up from his phone, “Sup.”

Blake’s lips began to curl as he entered the apartment, spotting his roommate on the massive chair.

“Who you textin’, bro?”

“Trying to pick up Kenzie,” Aaron responded. “But she’s hesitatin’ for some reason.” 

Blake picked up on the dull quality of his roommate’s voice, the vocal fry even stronger with Aaron was only half paying attention to their conversation. Blake took this opportunity to continue analyzing his roommate.

“Did you already hit the gym today?” Blake questioned, knowing Aaron had never once considered working out in his life.

“Just for a coupl’a hours this morning, yeah.” Aaron casually stretched out his legs a bit, as if to emphasize his point. They were long, hairy, and thick with muscle. Blake could not help but admire his roommate’s calves and the juicy thighs spilling out of the tight short shorts. “Worked the quads and hammies, even got some glutes action.”

The bubble butt Aaron was currently cushioned on confirmed this. Due to the oversized hoodie his roommate was currently wearing, Blake could not visually discern if the upper body matched the lower. “I thought you typically did ab days on Fridays?”

Aaron shrugged, one of his hands slinking away from his phone and down to his pouch. “Yeah but some of the machines were just too full.” Aaron casually palmed himself before continuing. “Buncha fags kept gettin’ in the way with their sissy routines.”

Blake was a bit surprised by the sudden homophobic remark. And by his roommate’s continual groping, as if it was reinforcing the new bigoted mindset. But it did not bother Blake; rather it made him even more excited. He did not have a problem with gay people, but the remarks were confirming that Aaron was no longer the derpy Discord homo that Blake had left in the apartment just eight hours earlier.

“...Bro?” Aaron had finally looked up from his phone, a smidge of disgust smearing across his perfect model-like face.

Blake immediately made eye contact, not realizing that he had lost himself staring at his roommate’s awakening cock. “Did Kenzie get back to you yet?” Blake tried to redirect the conversation, hoping his roommate would now be dumb enough to forget the harmless mistake.

Aaron peered down at his phone, simple glee replacing his former frown. “Ah dude she did!” Blake’s own smile returned, the test of his roommate’s lowered intelligence successful. “God hope she gets ready soon, I’m so boned up right now for some reason…”

With Aaron once again distracted, Blake stealthily eyed his accomplice with a knowing nod of gratitude, as if they had been along together for the ride like partners in crime. Being inanimate objects, the white Nike crew socks did not reply back, but their presence on his roommate’s feet were enough of a confirmation for Blake. Their thick terry material and ribbed arch bands perfectly wrapped Aaron's soles. 

Just hours earlier, the socks would have been at least three or four sizes too large for Aaron. In fact all the clothing Aaron was currently wearing would have swamped his former puny frame, nor would it have identified as a part of his personal style. Aaron’s former closet consisted of graphic tees, cargo shorts, and mismatched accessories. And by every Thursday, Aaron’s laundry hamper consisted of these same articles too, ready to be washed the next morning. All Blake had to do was “accidentally” drop in a pair of his sweaty, used socks; the simple “laundry mishap” would do the rest.

Blake would never know what had truly happened to the former Aaron, but he could at least imagine. In his mind, Blake envisioned Aaron preparing his laundry, then proceeding to find the funky gift, then getting boned up over the smell of a straight man’s feet and feeling the urge to try them on, and finally the magic happening. It was an exciting fantasy to conceptualize.

“Alright bro, she’s coming over in 10 for a quickie.” Aaron quickly stood up. Before, his roommate's sightline had reached Blake’s neck, but now they were able to make direct eye. “After that, wanna play a few rounds of COD?”

Blake grinned, his fantasy having become reality. “Sure thing, bro.”

[chxrry-lv]

희승 - Can’t get enough -> L.HS

Synopsis -> You didn’t expect to be laid down on your back in your enemy, heesung’s bed, as he had your legs spread just to eat you out.

Paring -> Horny-Enemy!Heesung x Sensitive-Fem!Reader.

Warning-> Sex, oral sex [ Reader receiving ], aftercare, cum, daddy kink and pet names.

Wc - 889 -> Click here.

DESC - ✿︑︒⚬∙︓·⠄ This is my only account!! any other account that has my work! Please don't be afraid to P.M me and help take it down.. & All works under - #✶.enha

Currently you were laid down on your back in your enemy, heesung’s bed, as he had your legs spread, and was eating you out.

How did you even end up in this situation..?

Well as you were at home earlier in the day, your parents who are friends with Heesung’s parents were invited to have a dinner with them at the lee’s residence.

Upon arrival you were upset, you literally had other plans with your friends for today but you were spending it with the person you despised. Heesung.

Why didn’t you like heesung..? Well it was because ever since you guys were in the same school and kindergarten, he has been bullying you for the whole entire time.

So getting to like him was never in the picture, so you didn’t understand how’d you allow him in your pants.

Maybe it was the way he touched you so gently which got you swooning or it’s the fact that he smelled good with the new cologne he has on.

Ether way you were on your back with him eating you out, “Mhm, If I knew you tasted so good.. I would have fucked you earlier..”

You covered your mouth as he licked up and down, and slurped up all your juices. Not caring if you were feeling sore or anything, typical Heesung.

Your eyes rolling back, as he sucked on your nub, causing your legs to shut. You looked down at him as he parted your legs once more, “Nuh huh, bad girl..I’m not done making out with your other pair of lips..”

You felt as he leaned down to your face and kissed you, all while his hand was on your pussy slowly but surely rubbing it.

“You’re so wet for me huh..?” He kisses your neck, “so wet for your daddy huh..?” You looked at hit with shock, like did he just refer to himself as daddy..?

You frowned your eyebrows a bit and looked away from him, “f-fuck you..” You rolled your eyes at him.

“Oh I would say that to but I’m..” He thrusts a finger into your pussy, “..ha.. already doing so..” You whimpered as the paste of his fingers started to increase. “You taste so much like strawberries..”

A knot started to form inside your stomach, you felt a need for him. You were wanting more of his fingers and now you were thinking about doing anything you could do to get it.

You looked at him, “p-please..”

With that he looked up at you, smirking, “Please what..?” He raised an eyebrow and lightly chuckled.

“L-let me.. c-cum..” You pleaded with him as he slowed his movements.

“Nuh huh..” He looked at you, and tut his teeth, “You have to call me daddy first.”

As you heard that your eyes widened, “F-fuck..”

He withdrew his hands and looked at you, “I mean it’s your choice if you want to come not mine..?” He looked at you turning away from you.

“F-fine.. fuck..” You looked at him and bit your bottom lip.

“Good choice..” He slowly started fingering you, “Let me hear you say it..”

You looked away and mumbled it.

He looked at you, “Didn’t quite catch what you said..” he said as he used his other hand to cup your face.

You looked back at him, “ugh ah.. fine..p-please let me c-cum daddy..” you looked at him pouting, your eyebrows frowning in pleasure as you felt him increase his speed.

“Good fucking girl..” Her mumbled and looked at you, “Hmh…”

You let out a moan and bite done on your bottom lip, “Ahhh..fuck.. i’m gonna..!”

“Moan my name when you cum..” he rubbed you in circles.

And with that you closed your legs as you cummed all over his finger, “Ah heesung..”

He then went down and licked your jucies up, “mhm so sweet.. one of a kind..”

You sighed as you felt him continue to eat you out and your legs stopped shaking and fell spread apart. You were sensitive from your last orgasm, so with him continuing you eat you out you shivered.

“Hees..s-stop..” when you said that he looked at you, nodding.

“Sorry I hot carrirrd away..” He mumbled under his breath.

You sat up and hugged him, well although he is your sworn enemy, he’s also the first person to see your private area.

Slowly he wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you close, “Mhm..sorry..”

You tilled your head, “Sorry..? What are you sorry for..?”

He looked down at you and sighed, “I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you for the past number of years since we’ve known each other since kindergarten..do you forgive me..?”

Normally when heesung would apologise, he would be joking but this time he actually looked apologetic towards you.

“..I do..” You smiled a bit before burying your head into his chest”

“Thank you..”

Not after long, he gave you aftercare and you guys ate spicy chicken ramen noodles in his bedroom as you watched a movie on the tv. You bing in his hoodie and your underwear and socks, all while he was wearing a vest, grey sweatpants and socks.

You guys enjoyed the night together as you guys found yourself more drawn together, like a special force.

©chxrry-lv

[ryuzakemo128]

MDNI 18+ Omegaverse Part 2

Part One

Note: Big things happens in this continuation.

word count: 1542

Ghost still remembered how you were standing on top of the building when you shot the tracking bullet into his shoulder. You didn’t aim to kill, maim? Sure. You don’t take lives. You just run from others and keep them tagged for as long as possible to know where they would be. You didn’t care if they were special operatives or the Queen of fucking England. No one had the right to have you or own you. Ever. 

“I still remember how Price thought you were seeing things.” Soap snickered, “I still can’t believe it.”

“Well, whatever it is, just produced a strong smell of vinegar and my nose is hurting.” Gaz complained, whined, even. Your makeshift solution is working to your advantage. Even if it's drowning your dirty, grimy baggy clothes under hot water and white vinegar. They’ll end up trying again quite soon.

As you got changed into clean clothes, your naked body came into the view of the door window. Which to Soap? It was like he hit the fucking jackpot. Watching you pull on medical scrubs. Soap saw your back tattoo, “The gates of hell are open night and day; Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labour lies.”

Soap yanked Price over to take a look at your tattoo. His hunch told him something, you weren’t just anyone, and you weren’t just a random omega the General wanted to contain. “I don’t think we know nearly as much about her as we think we do.” Soap told him, dragging him to the window and shoving the binoculars into Price’s hands. 

Gaz remembered your herbal cigarettes, the lavender burning and how Price would try to scold you for your habit. “And what? Leave you smoked up like a bastard in heat or somethin?” you told Price. Breathing lavender scented smoke into Price’s facial direction. Dodging his attempts to snatch the cigarette from you.

Price, at the time, growled, “What is with you? You’re slipperier than a greased-up pig at a county fair, and more elusive than the fucking Loch Ness monster.” The spunk you had before? Increased tenfold. 

“Look at you, tripping over yourselves still, fucking alphas who can’t track for shit huh?” you taunted with your walkie-talkie you found in the office. “Round And Round It Goes... Where It Stops, Nobody Knows. Round and round you go, when will I stop? Nobody knows.” 

You grabbed your stuff, and you left really fast, “Tell your mother I’ll fuck her soon.” you spoke into the walkie-talkie. 

“We’ve got to get to her before she’s gone. She’s a fucking ghost, we’ve been tracking her for months, and she’s always one step ahead of us. This might be our only chance before she disappears again.” Price told them. Soap was too distracted by the fact you flash banged him with your gorgeous fucking tits. 

Which Price had to admit? A smart thing to do when you’re dealing with four hungry, aroused alphas on your tail. Your tits were a flash beacon even after you headed out of the room with your gear. The limping of your leg and once soap has you in his grasp again? He wouldn’t let you go again. 

Crawling through the ventilator shaft, until you were dragged out by your feet by someone strong enough to get you out of there, and his deep voice hitting the base of your skull like a drum. 

Dragging you from the vent, one swift tug at a time. Before long, you were carried over to Price and Ghost. With Gaz stalking right behind him, intensely staring at you from behind Soap. He had you draped over his right shoulder and your belongings in his other hand. While Gaz carried your sniper and bone knife. 

Once Price taken a closer look at you, removing your shirt and replacing it with a clean, warm, dry shirt. As Price looked for one suitable. 

Soap’s eyes widened as he recognised the tattoo. He’s seen it once before. It’s an incredibly specific tattoo. Only one person he knew of had it. Someone who was thought to be dead. Yet here you were. Very much…..alive. Running around like a scared rabbit. Soap’s heart is racing. 

He knew you weren’t going to go with them quietly. Not with that tattoo.

“Guys, I think we might have stumbled upon someone important, she’s not what we thought she was.” Soap whispered to Ghost outside the medical examination room. 

Ghost looked at Soap sceptically, “What do you mean, Mactavish?”

Soap took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice calm, “The tattoo on her back. It’s not from a book, it’s from a person. The person who had it is... or was... a legend around these parts.” He paused, his eyes searching the room as if he could see through the walls. “Her callsign was Venom, one of the best snipers the military had, until she disappeared. She was thought to be dead after her last mission, but if this is her... she’s been hiding here all along.”

Price’s eyes narrowed as he digested the information. “Venom? That’s a name I’ve heard before. If she’s who you think she is, then she’s worth more than gold to Shepherd. We can’t let her go.” He turned to Gaz, his voice low and commanding. “Keep an eye on the exits, she’s clever. We don’t want her slipping away again.”

Still processing the information, his gaze sharp and calculating. “If that’s true, then we might have a bigger problem on our hands. Get a clearer visual, Soap, and make sure it’s her. We don’t want to spook her before we get a good look at her face and confirm her identity.”

Soap nodded, his eyes glued to the small window in the door of the medical examination room. “On it, boss.” He whispered back, his heart racing with excitement and a hint of fear. Venom was a legend, known for her sharp-shooting skills and unyielding spirit. If she had indeed survived, she would be a powerful ally or a formidable enemy.

Then she would be you, wouldn’t you? When he saw your face? Soap held the new photo with the one they have. They were a perfect match. You were indeed ‘Venom’. A legend from their annals of history straight into his sight. 

He felt his cock thicken, a growling in his chest, his animalistic instincts were now coming to the forefront.

“It’s her, boss. No doubt about it. She’s Venom. I’ve seen that tattoo before, on the back of the woman who trained me.” Soap said with a mix of awe and fear. “I don’t think anyone is crazy enough to be out here for this long. 

Price's eyebrows furrowed, “Venom… I thought she was dead. General Shepherd killed her.”

“So did everyone else,” Soap replied, “But she's very much alive, and she's in heat. We need to handle this with care. She's not going to come quietly. Or willingly for that matter.”

Price nodded in understanding, his mind racing with the implications of this revelation.“Alright, keep an eye on her. She's a ghost for a reason.” He turned to Ghost, “What do we know about her other than that she's a damn good shot?”

Ghost's eyes narrowed as he recalled the intel he had read, “Venom went dark after her last mission. Rumour has it she took out a high-value target that was off-limits. Her disappearance was sudden, and her file was sealed tighter than a drum. If she's the one in there, she's got a vendetta with someone or something, and it's not us.”

“But she's in heat,” Gaz pointed out, his voice thick with the same primal need Soap had felt earlier. “That….. That changes things completely.”

Ghost nodded, his voice a low rumble, “It does. She'll be more… vulnerable. Hesitant to trust.”

“Vulnerable or not,” Soap said, “We can't just barge in there. We need to earn her trust”

“But how? She’s not going to listen, and she’s stubborn like Price.” Gaz said, stroking his jaw, contemplating their next move.

“You’ve been out here the entire time?” Price asked you, both in awe, frustration and a little admiration in his tone. “You’ve been living out here alone all this time?”

“You make it sound far harder than it actually is. Did General Shepherd let you think that, or are you really that stupid enough to think it?” you answered. “With the right kind of knowledge, you can go far and wide. Took out the tracker from my neck, day one, surprised you pups are still working for that bitch.” 

General Shepherd. You were at odds with him from the sound of things. Whether that was a good thing or not? Another thing entirely. Another thing which now had to wait until they had you removed from this ancient building. Regardless of whether you wanted to leave it or not.

“So are you workin for him or what?” you growled. 

“That’s none of your fucken business.” Price snarled at you.

“I think it is and you’re going to tell me regardless of what you think or how you feel about it too.”

[tackykachowch]

Alright so I found another reason to hate the flashback in s2. Crazy right? Well tbf, it's not about the flashback in particular this time, but rather wasted opportunity. After rewatching some of Silco's scenes in season 1 I caught myself thinking: "Huh. This guy sure mentions sons and daughters/brothers and sisters a lot. Interesting thing to do for a character who treats people as resources". And then it hit me. There's just a GOLDMINE (heh) of untouched inner conflict to explore within Silco.

Just think about it. He probably went to work in the mines as soon as he was capable to and was raised by people there. Like he mentions in a dialog with Finn, they were a tightly connected community who always looked after each other, making sure everyone survived on the sparce resources they had. So wouldn't it be better to focus the flashback on that community rather than one specific person? We already know that Silco and Vander were the closest people to each other, so to introduce another person to the equation doesn't really make sense. The flashback can still happen at The Last Drop, but a party could be happening there. Maybe not even to celebrate something, but to just have a good time with everyone. And we could be shown how Silco interacted with all these different people, knew their personal struggles and goals, excitedly discussed what they're gonna do after liberation with them, what everyone is going to do once they'll be fully free of the mines. To really show us and emphasize the fact that BOTH Vander and Silco built the Lanes. Vander wasn't the only one to value the community, he just wasn't the one who was ready to sacrifice it for their goal. And this is very important too!! Because it's easy to think of Silco as a ruthless calculating machine that never cared for the people. But he clearly did. And we could be shown how desperation broke him, because even after everything he and Vander did their friends and adoptive family were still dying. Some from the accidents in the mines, some from diseases caused by the Grey, some from enforcers' brutality etc. So it was REALLY hard for him to cross that line and place the cause above all else. And a parallel can be created there: in ep3 Vander says that he cooperated with Grayson because he "didn't have another choice", so maybe Silco thought the same when he made a decision to stop valuing his people above else? A really interesting conversation can be had there, but "bLiStErS aNd BeDrOcK" is cooler apparently.

[trippinsorrows]

dreamland: leya's struggles

authors note: this is super short and not anything major. literally wrote this in like half an hour. i could expound on it if people are interested. just wanted to give some insight to what it was like for roso and leya dealing with her ocd when she was younger.

only gonna tag a few people. if i end up expounding on it, i'll tag my usual "everyone" list.

words: 800

masterlist

warnings: angst, depiction of ocd in children

The sound of horns honking startles both Leya and Tama, the latter of which starts to stir in his car seat, single handedly exacerbating an already nightmare of a situation.

“Hurry up!”

It’s a single voice that’s followed up with several others, all expressing the same level of pressure and rudeness.

Solana is seconds away from marching over to the woman directly behind the suv behind her car when Tama’s soft, sleepy voice serves as a deterrent. “Mama, I wanna go home….”

A shared sentiment, one that makes most sense for him, as he’d either be back in bed by now or cuddled on the sofa with her while he takes a nap. 

Obviously, that’s not an option. 

“I know, baby,” she comforts. Solana does take a step back but instead of acting out of character, she directs her clear, unmistakable command to Jacob. “Shut them up.”

With a nod, Solana only catches his face shifting into that infamous scowl as he walks over to the cars lined up behind her, a line that has to be backed out into the street at this point.

With that handled, Solana moves back to the issue at hand. 

Leya continues to cry, sniffling as her little chest moves up and down. Solana can see the tips of her fingers turning red from the repeated, forceful buckling and unbuckling of her seatbelt.

“Leya….” Solana’s voice breaks. As best as she’s doing to maintain her composure, it’s a slowly losing battle. “Baby, it’s okay. We can g—”

“No!” Leya cries, shaking her head, still not looking at Solana as the concerned mother continues to gently stroke her hair. “I gotta—I gotta do it right, mommy, or something bad will happen!”

“Cataleya, I promise you nothing bad is going to happen, baby.” A reassuring statement she’s had to have stated at least ten times now over the past almost half hour that’s passed since the start of Leya’s episode. “But, you have to get out the ca—”

“No!” Leya begins to cry harder, once again going to remove her seatbelt, counting to three with her fingers before doing it all over again. A repeated, consistent, obsessive act that’s led to the situation they’re in now. A situation Solana has no idea how to handle. This is the first time it’s ever been this bad.

“What’s wrong, Leya?” Tama asks in his sweet voice, worry filling his little face as he tries to comfort her. Unfortunately, that only does the opposite. Leya cries out and jerks her body away, swatting his helping hand, prompting his bottom lip to poke out as he too starts to cry. 

“Leya, please don’t hit your brother.” It’s hard for Solana to be upset with or even scold her daughter, because she knows Leya can’t help it. Knows that it’s only because anyone else’s touch other than hers feels “wrong” to Leya, thus her reacting the way she did.  “Tama, it’s okay, baby boy. Leya just doesn’t feel good.” 

Solana is sure none of them are feeling good, especially herself, her hand moving to her small baby bump as a sudden wave of nausea washes over her.

God please, not right now.

Of all times, not now.

She just can’t handle this.

Solana moves to open the passenger door and reaches over to grab her cell phone out of the cupholder. Shaking, trembling hands move to Roman’s contact, as she too quickly hits the call button.

Three rings followed by a soft, feminime voice. “Mr. Reigns office, how can I—”

“Shit,” Solana curses and closes her eyes. She dialed his office number instead of his personal cell. “I’m sorry, Alicia, this is Solana. I need you to put me through with Roman.”

“Oh, hi, Mrs. Reigns,” she greets, voice kind but almost unsure. “Ummm—Mr. Reigns is in the middle of—”

“Alicia,” Solana doesn’t hesitate to interrupt. “Get my husband on this line now.”

The woman nervously clears her throat. “Of course.” A pause. “Just a minute.”

And it’s just about a full minute that passes when Solana hears her husband’s deep, baritone voice on the other end. “Solana? What’s wr—”

“I need you to meet me at the school,” she cuts in, emotion in her voice as her eyes start watering all over again. “I can’t—I can’t get Leya out the car. She’s—she’s stuck in a ritual, and I’ve got Tama, and he’s crying, and I can’t—I don’t know what to do.” Her voice breaks at the end, the overwhelming nature of it all finally trampling her

“Mommy, don’t cry,” Tama comforts, eyes focused on Solana from the backseat.

Solana is unsure if Roman can hear their five-year-old, because he’s doing the same, “baby, don’t cry. It’s okay.” It provides some solace but not as much as Solana knowing how to help her daughter could provide. “I’m on my way.”

[islandofthedollz]

❤︎ White Picket Fence ❤︎

⁠❥ TW: Rape, noncon read at your own discretion 

“Darling, dinner is ready," you shout up the stairs as your husband changes from coming out of the shower. "I'll be right down there, beloved,"Jimmy yells back. You hum as you start to fill the plates with food. When you feel two long arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to a broad chest. "my beloved, you outdid yourself. The meal looks great.

You hear Jimmy’s voice as you look up at him, your eyes brighter, you see him. He holds your hand, brings it up to his face, and kisses it. He smiles and kisses your cheek. "Let me help you carry the plates towards the dining room (y/n)" you're nod As Jimmy takes both plates, and you follow him with two cups of (f/b).

You sit down at the table, you face the window, and you see the abandoned house right across the street. The house always had an alluring vibe towards it. You always ask your husband about the house he quickly dismisses it and says, "don't leave the white picket fence."He closes the curtain facing the house. You make small talk with your husband.

Your mind would always come back to that house. After you finish dinner, Jimmy helps you with the dishes. You both get ready for bed. As your husband pulls you into a close embrace, he kisses you and reminds you that your troubles are miles away. You don't need to worry about him around.

You couldn't sleep that night. You get up from bed, and you look at your sleeping husband. You brush his curls out of his face. Walking downstairs to get some water. You pull the curtain open in to see the house. You decide you want to check the house out once and for all; you grab your robe and slippers and walk out.

As you get closer to the house, you start to get an ominous feeling. You ignore it and push it down as you see that the front door is unlocked. As you walk in, you touch the wall looking for a light switch. When the room lights up, you are shocked that the house's interior looks identical to the home. As you walk deeper into the house, you hear the sound of someone coming downstairs.

"Y/n is dinner ready. It better not be cold like last time you dumb bitch" you look up to see your husband. Dumbfounded, you say, "but we ate dinner already, Jimmy" Jimmy walks towards you he grabs your hair, pulling you close to his face. You feel his hot breath. "are you stupid? Did you forget to make dinner" he lets go of your hair, pushing you down to the floor. As you try to get up, Jimmy kicks you in the stomach.

You arch down as your arms tried to cover your stomach, but Jimmy’s foot beat you to it. He kicks you repeatedly that you cough up blood. Jimmy yanks you up, pushing you into the kitchen. "Y/n you only have 2 jobs cleaning and cooking, and you can't even do that right I don't even know why I married you," he roars as he walks towards a covered and gets a plate.

You flinch at his words. "J-Jimmy..." you sob. "pl- please..." "did I give you permission to speak to me, pig?" Jimmy throws the plate at you, nearly hitting you. "Y/n your only good for one thing, and that's being my cock sleeve; now be a good girl and come here" as you slowly walk towards him, he grabs you slapping you across the face.

He pulls you in for a kiss. Your arms push his chest. Jimmy grabs both your wrist holding them tightly; you were sure that they were going to bruise. He forcefully pushes his tongue in, quickly gaining dominance. He breaks the kiss, a string of saliva connecting both of your lips.

Jimmy shoves you down to the table, your feet almost touching the floor. Jimmy reached under your dress you scream. Your hands reached out to grab anything, but there was nothing. You felt Jimmy hand grab your panties and rip them down. "Scream all your want." He ran his free hand over the curves of your body, "We're the only ones where there isn't a person nearby for one mile."Jimmy, please don’t do this" You tried to buck yourself up, but it was no use.

His hand was too strong. SMACK! A sting exploded through your cunny; you sob. SMACK! He hit the same spot again, and you screamed again. His hand kept coming down again and again. It was happening so fast that you weren't sure if you were trying to crawl away or buck upwards, the pain exploding with each of his movements.

Finally, you succumbed to the sobs and stopped fighting him. Jimmy harshly pinched your clit hard. Making you whimper as the tears rolled down your cheek. Then he started slowly tracing his fingertips on your outer lips, almost cooling the fire.

He leaned down, placing his mouth right next to your ear. "See you such a desperate whore look how wet your cunt is.." He bites down on your cartilage before standing back up. Showing you his wet fingers.You didn't say anything, your chest heavy with sobs.

There was a pause but then heard the sound of his belt undoing. "NO!" You tried harder to push yourself up, even trying to kick your leg back but only heard his laugh. "Come on, Y/N. I thought you wanted this to make it up for me for forgetting dinner" You screamed again, trying to close your legs but his knees were in the way.

Then you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance and your noises silenced. He pushed forward, and you stretched around him. "You are so tense. You need to relax. Feel how wet you are from that little spanking." Jimmy grabs your hips, he pushed in further, causing a squeak to come forward. He was huge. "If you have made dinner, this wouldn't have happed. I wouldn't have to discipline you because you can't do your job".

You gasped and started clutching at nothing as he spread you in two. No way could you take him all in your current state. "Please stop! It hurts!" You pulled your hands into fists and dub your fingernails into your palms, needing something to focus on other than the giant cock spearing you. "Don't worry. It will start to feel good soon."Jimmy leaned in more. Tears fell down your face as your body struggled to adjust to him.

There was no doubt he was moving slower than needed. Scared that he was going to burst through your ovaries before he was in all the way, "There we are, hungry cockslut."Jimmy laughed. "See, I don't know why you were bitching when you could take it all." You were breathing heavy, pinned to the table with your husband buried inside of you.

He pulled out a little, and you felt some relief, but then he slammed back into you. "God Y/N, your cunt is tight." He grunted before pulling out again. He came back in even harder, his pace slow, ensuring you felt every inch of him. You whimpered and cried as he pulled back again. His finger ran up your slit, gathering some of your juices, and then started rubbing your clit. "Please, I beg you stop" You squealed and tried to move away, but then he had you trapped.

He pulled out all the way and slammed back in. "Let's hear more of them." You moaned and wiggled, unsure if it was to get away from his hand or his massive dick. He picked up his pace, and you produced more slick, making it easier for him to glide in and out. You pinched your eyes shut, but as he predicted, there was no denying it was starting to feel good. Jimmy increased the pressure from his fingertip on your bundle of nerves along with his thrusts.

You didn't mean to, but your hips started moving with him, your body enjoying the feeling of fullness he was bringing you as much as your mind hated it. "If you don't stop that, I'm not going to be able to last much longer." Jimmy sped up and started rubbing in small circles. It was all your body required to make the explosion you hadn't realized was forming happen. You panted with screams and moans intermixed.

Jimmy let out a grunt and pushed as far into you as possible. His cum coating your insides. You wanted to cry but were so out of it you weren't sure if you already were or not. Your body and mind being in two different spots. Jimmy pulled out of you a mixture of blood and cum sipping onto the table. "Clean this mess and make dinner.

I'm going to watch tv". He snarls.Jimmy leaves you alone, tears rolling down your eyes; you look at the window. You see a billboard of a happy couple surrounded by a white picket fence when it all crashes down to you of your reality. It was all in your head; there was no caring or loving Jimmy. You close your eyes, sobbing. You curl up in a ball, shaking.

[raichukfm]

I played Undertale recently. My favorite character is Chara. No, I didn't kill anybody. I am going to go on about them, now.

Spoilers for Undertale, all the routes. "It came out nearly a decade ago!" Yeah and I first played it last week and was happily surprised by the sheer amount of things I hadn't been spoiled on, so. Have a courtesy warning! Also courtesy warning: Too many fucking words. I'm sorry.

As a preface: Undertale really genuinely touched me. I bring this up as a preface because I think it's important to why it is exactly I feel how I feel, and that is important to how I perceived Chara.

And it having such an impact honestly surprised me; Undertale seemed cute and fun but silly and something I had felt… prepared for? Like, inadvertently, from hearing about it and its characters for so long. And for some parts early on, I was, at least in part. I liked Sans and Papyrus from the start, but in the way that I liked a gimmick, and it took time for the enjoyment to get more and more… not genuine, it already was, but I can't find the word I'm looking for. I guess it struck me with less artificiality? It started actually getting to me. This was happening throughout the whole length of things, like, I really genuinely liked Toriel basically from the start, but the farther in I got the more it was happening. Actually, looking back, the intro cinematic really hit for me in a way that should have clued me in that this game was going to get me.

Because I really connected with Chara as the character I was playing as, to an extent that honestly really surprised me? It felt emotionally resonant. Admittedly, naming Chara the way that I did probably did a fair amount of lifting there; I used a nickname of mine that isn't used that often. I think that hit more than it would have if I had used one of my first names, since it was distant enough to easily have differentiation while also close enough to feel so immediately personal. Chara is someone where most things with them are up to interpretation, but I just had a specific interpretation readily and naturally come to me.

Of course, I knew the Chara and Frisk distinction beforehand, and that informed my interpretation pretty heavily; but I hadn't really heard much of anything about Chara other than the Genocide Route stuff, prior. I mostly saw them treated as like some pure evil nasty may-as-well-have-been-demon. I hadn't been reading like narraChara theories or anything (amazing name, 10/10 whoever coined it). I just landed there naturally. When Undertale was giving the early hints that Chara had actually come before the human you played as, like in the garbage dump, it only amplified those feelings.

My read was that I as the player I was, largely, controlling Frisk's actions, but seeing Chara's thoughts. Every time I saw or heard memories, they were Chara's. But I don't think Chara was in control of the body or anything. I think Chara was there tagging along as an observer, at first not sure what exactly was happening or understanding why; but linked to Frisk's SOUL and so having Frisk's feelings resonate through them. So, they decided to help. They not only lent their lingering Determination but also just tried to help Frisk stay determined in the normal sense. But that was what they were doing: Not acting, but watching Frisk's actions and feeling their feelings.

And in my playthrough, Frisk was a dogged pacifist who was very reluctant to even slightly hurt anyone and very willing to put themselves into terrible danger because of that. And I think seeing that, feeling the feelings behind it resonating with them, made Chara a better person. A profoundly better person. Just in itself, the way it would anyone, but… Here's an example of the best of humanity, that same humanity they despised. Here's someone willing to refuse violence even if it puts them at risk of dying, even actually dying once before they discovered they could LOAD even after death, if they remained determined. Someone who again and again and again takes attacks and doesn't fight back unless it's absolutely necessary, who sees a whole people that have time and time again just tried to callously kill them and keeps choosing to help them. To trust them, and reach out to them, again and again and again, and who each time is proven right. Even when there's nothing to reach out to but dead human children whose SOULs had been absorbed for power by an entity whose power was represented in their SAVE by the highest numbers expressible there.

I think seeing all of that really challenged Chara's worldview in general and view of humanity in particular. I think they understood that they had been wrong, and done wrong.

And then Frisk goes back one more time to set things right and save everyone. Chara is there experiencing what Frisk is feeling as they go through that lab, as they learn about Determination... when they find those videotapes and learn about how Chara died intentionally, hoping to wreak violence on humanity and then break the Barrier. And Chara learns that Flowey was their adoptive brother, all along. Sees with what must be horror what has become of sweet little Asriel, knowing that this only happened because of then. Understanding what Asriel chose in the end, why he chose it, and now seeing what trying to make up for that 'mistake' had done to him. And Chara sees Frisk try so hard to save him, even after everything he's done, just because he's another person. And Chara does everything they can to help Frisk, together mustering enough Determination to deny death itself, as many times as needed, until Frisk does it. Reaches out to Asriel and helps him to get over what happened enough to stop fighting, to start to heal, to give up on godhood... To use a moment of unity to bring down the Barrier without needing to hurt anyone else.

And Chara watched their brother realize that Frisk isn't them, and that that is good. That Frisk is a better person, and one whom Asriel wishes he could have had in his life before, as he admits to himself that Chara wasn't a good person. And Chara lets go. They let Frisk and everyone else go to their happy ending, while they stay behind.

And then Asriel and Chara have one last moment, in the game. Chara comes back and Asriel, even once again lacking a SOUL, cares enough about everyone else to ask Chara to let them be happy, to not tear them away from everything. But Asriel doesn't trust Chara, and so asks that if they are going to rip them out of their happy ending… do it to him too. Don't make him sit through everything repeating. Don't make him become deadened all over again by seeing everything play out over and over and over again in countless variations. And then he imagines that this exchange has happened again and again and again and Chara must be tired of hearing it. Because that is what Chara would do, isn't it?

But Chara doesn't say anything. Maybe they can't, maybe they just choose not to. Instead, they let their brother say goodbye to them. And then they choose to let go. Chara couldn't be the one to save Asriel; it had to be Frisk. Once Frisk has... What waits for them and their brother… I don't know. But I hope they can be happy. I hope they got their closure. And, maybe vainly, I hope they can find some way to have each other again, but healthily this time. But that's for them, not for me. Maybe one or both choose to let go entirely and fade away, return to the death that had once taken them. All I've got is hopes for the future of these people that aren't even real.

Immersion is a powerful thing, huh?

...

So, about the Genocide Route. There's a lot of characterization for Chara there, and some for Asriel too. I know people tend to read the Genocide Route as Chara taking Frisk over and unleashing their preexisting violent impulses, but I really don't think that's right. I don't think that route shows what Chara was like before much at all. I think the Genocide Route is what happens when Chara finds themselves brought back from the pall of death, given some sort of second chance, and all they can do in it is watch Frisk murder everyone they encounter. When they see their mother get murdered in cold blood, and can feel how little Frisk cared about her while doing it. When all they can feel when it happens is that sick sense of pleasure at an accomplishment. When they're forced to find some kind of meaning in that, some reason for why they were brought back and made to be complicit in this, some purpose to this existence.

And they find it. They find it in their idea of numerical invincibility, and they cling to it. And they are abraded down until all that's left of them is their worst impulses stripped of context, magnified, and then redefined under the light of this 'purpose'… and that sick sense of accomplishment. More and more, Chara wears down to this thing that only cares about power and violence, and more and more Chara loses their sense of distinction from Frisk, sees these actions as their own; or maybe they become more and more able to exert control of the actions as they redefine themselves to be better at wielding power. Either way, Chara murders their father. Chara murders their brother. Then Chara destroys humanity, not even out of hatred, but simply for the sake of power. They destroy all the monsters they missed, too. Only power matters; the gaining of it, and also the exercise of it for its own sake. The only thing they don't destroy is Frisk, their reliable partner, the one who showed them their purpose. The one they are perversely grateful to, but will betray the moment it suits them, now that they have the power to do so.

I've heard a lot about how this is criticism of RPG players, and I can see that but more and more I don't think that the purpose of this is to moralize, or at least that that's not the only purpose. Because this shows Chara become their worst self, this epitome of power in a husk of a person. Someone who wasn't a great person from the start falls to horrific depths. And then they can't climb back out. You can't help them out. Chara defines themselves as Numbers Go Up because after all this trauma from the first moment that their plan went awry and Asriel held back their powers, and they both died a second time… All they have refuge in is that belief in invincibility. Chara believes you can escape suffering if you become the strongest thing in the world. And so Chara does just that. And it's all they can hold onto, because it's the only thing holding them together.

But really they're just another lost soul who you no longer have the power to save or comfort or bring positive emotions to, someone tricking themselves into thinking they're an unfeeling demon beyond sentimentality just to feel like they have some control, so they can delight in exercising power over others without guilt or regret.

Frisk can give them their SOUL and Chara doesn't change, doesn't really feel anything more, no matter what Frisk shows them. Because they've closed their heart to those feelings. You can't take this back. You can't save them. They're the only person you can't save. Sometimes, when you hurt people you make them worse and you can't be the one to help them after that. And you can't cheat. Whatever you do… Chara remembers it. You can't just take it back, can't do it over. You can only look on in horror at what Chara has become and accept or deny your fault in it.

In the Pacifist Route… I think Chara feels something like that when learning that Flowey was Asriel all along, and knowing it was their fault.

It's easy to blame what Asriel became on the lack of his SOUL. But I really believe that's not what it was. Maybe that does dull feelings, but you don't need a SOUL to love, to care. We see that, with Asriel-as-Flowey asking Chara to leave the others to their happy ending. We can see it in how Chara, at their worst, gets a SOUL and gets no better. How Chara, with a SOUL, does not understand the sentimentality still held by the player who has already given up theirs. Flowey didn't become a monster because of the lack of his SOUL. He was a traumatized little kid who couldn't get his life back, couldn't get his sibling back, but had the power to evade consequences and abused it to try and cope until it further wore down his ability to care. So he retreated to seeing things as less than real to cope with it all, resorted to cruelty and vindictiveness just to feel something.

Where Asriel as Flowey makes a performative show of his petty cruelty and vindictiveness, Chara dresses it up with dispassion and a veneer of objective judgement. But, deep down? They're the same. If you don't let yourself feel anything you can't be hurt.

The Genocide Route isn't some creepypasta about a demon taking over an innocent. Nothing so convenient as that. Because the point is that you choose to do it. You do it, and you choose it every step of the way, and only at the very very end does it become too late to turn back. So it fits it better, I think, if it's not about Chara corrupting Frisk... But about you corrupting Chara. Whether that you is Frisk, or you the player, you make someone who was a bad person to start with so much worse.

Asriel was pressured and manipulated by Chara and became a worse person for it, and then retreated to the toxic ideology of "kill or be killed" to cope with that and further trauma, as well as denying his own emotionality in an attempt to make himself invincible. And in the Genocide Route, Chara does the exact same fucking thing. A different toxic ideology, that the only thing that matters is acquiring power, a different mask to deny their emotions which is impassive rather than irreverent, but so similar. Beat for beat. Even down to the fact that Asriel still idolized the person who hurt him, considered them special, the only person worth caring about: Chara wants you to come with them to conquer and destroy new worlds, considers you the perfect partner, doesn't kill you even when you try to resist them, even keeps remaking the world for you when you ask despite already getting your SOUL the first time. You showed them the truth of their existence, after all, even without meaning to. Just as Chara showed Asriel that this world is kill or be killed, even without meaning to.

So… Knowing that all of this could happen…

It adds a lot, I think, to the Pacifist Ending. To Chara getting better, growing as a person and helping everyone, learning they were wrong about the world and humanity, and letting power go. Letting Frisk go. Letting everyone go. Hearing out Asriel's grievances with what they did and accepting them. Just being happy that Asriel could be saved along with everyone else, before the end, despite the negative impact they had had on him and how coming back as a flower no one recognized as him fucked him up even worse.

I just like those two poor siblings, and can't help but be sympathetic to somebody young making a nasty plan with good intentions but without a real appreciation for what they were doing. I am so glad that such a tragic and awful thing got better the way it did, amidst everyone else getting their happy ending. And I think Chara just gets me so much because they become so much better than they were to begin with, and because I felt I was there with them. Immersion is a powerful thing. But maybe even more than that... It's that Frisk doesn't save Chara. Frisk can't save Chara. Frisk can just give Chara the chance they needed to save themselves.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

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Chapter 6

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion x Fem! Reader

Arranged marriage AU

Warnings: implied possessive and obsessive themes/actions/behaviors/thoughts, reader is one second away from having a panic attack, indirect mention of death, mention of murder, implied toxic family/child abuse, very, very light choking, mention/possible stalking, Toxic marriage/relationship, Reader is so done mentally despite only living in the Argece mansion for one (1) day, Reader becomes sassy, jealousy, everyone ooc

NSFW warnings: Very suggestive, throw back to their first time, implied dacryphilia

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANTICIZED AS THEY ARE THEY ARE BOTH ARE  EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS 

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DON’T INTERACT/REBLOG WITH FANDOM STUFF DNI AND PLEASE DO NOT SPAM LIKE MY POSTS

= = =

“You never once referred to Dion as your husband.” 

“P-pardon?” 

That caught you off guard. Frankly speaking, calling the man your husband aloud is stomach-turning. Not that you would admit that, or rather not that you could. The punishment you would receive from Lant if it were to ever reach his ears…

 “Well, we haven’t been married for even a week.” Carefully explaining yourself, you scan behind her to check if anyone was there. “So, I am still a bit shy about it.” you smile shyly. Blood rushes through your veins and you can hear the thundering pumping and feel it. 

Your blood becomes ice and skin slime as Roxana observes your behavior and reaction before making a move. Fresh coral lips tug into a soft smile as Roxana sees past your lie and stares into your soul. Her eyes remind you of your husband’s; glowing scarlet that curtains their true emotions and thoughts. 

Sinister or otherwise, you’re afraid to drown in them. 

“I see. That’s adorable.” She reminds you of a venus fly trap; inviting only to trap you. Even so, her ‘affection’ towards you nearly has you tripping on your feet. No. This is how she gets people. 

“Lady Roxana, I had a fun time speaking with you.” You halfheartedly bid her farewell, bowing. You plan on walking the moment you raise your head. What you don’t plan on doing, however, is returning to your chambers immediately. 

Ah, but… where would you even go? 

“Oh, right. Do you remember the way?” she blinks at you while you blink back. Your mind is a void - absolutely nothing in it. Next, she laughs. 

It sounds like bells on Christmas, a chorus in the church, that exciting and relieved feeling you get once you hear ‘shift’s over,’ from the managers. Head full of cotton, you allow yourself to simply enjoy this moment. Once the blissful laughter has ended, she offers to guide you.

Personally. 

“O-oh, it’s fine - “ you just got mind fucked - Roxana willingly go anywhere near Dion’s room? Something’s not right. You take a step back. 

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” You give her a faux smile, worried.

 Worried for what? Your safety? The possible argument that could break out between the two half-siblings? Seeing something you’re not supposed to? Or having to awkwardly stand to the side as Dion acts weirdly and creepy towards his sister?

“It’s fine; I’d like to get to know you more. We’re family now, so it’s natural.” 

We’re family now. 

“...I’ll accept then. Thank you for taking care of me.” The scream that wishes to burst from your chest, the saliva drowning your gums and mouth, the quiver that threatens to take over your body - you hold it back. You have to. 

“It’s not a problem.” 

Fear prevents you from asking about Hana. 

You follow once she starts to walk, the sound of heels hitting the floor echoing. Even her back is elegant - perfect form, back straight and head up. Carrying an air of sophistication and confidence, Roxana Argece deserves the female lead role. Her blond waves lightly bounce with each step. 

She is the definition of beauty. 

And as a dedicated fan - also driven by fear and mental stress - you will stay steps behind her. It’s for the best, it’s for your safety. Walk in her shadow but not at her side. Let the spotlight shine on her so you won’t be noticed, left alone by anyone and everyone. That is one plan for survival. 

“Oh? Sorry, I didn’t realize that you were behind me.” The fifteen year old girl waits for you to join her side after stopping, refusing to walk another inch until you do so. And your eighteen year old self  heistates - not because you feel inferior to her. God no, but because her mind is a puzzle you can’t solve. 

You don’t have the power to read her thoughts. You are only able to guess. 

This isn’t fiction anymore. 

“It’s fine. I was also lost in thought.” Busy with admiring her rather. You pick up your pace a bit if only to please her. She resumes guiding you once you’re right by her. Nothing falls into place despite observing her from the corner of your eye. You don’t sense anything.

No hostility nor mischief. There wasn’t a hint of pity on her face. Mockery was also absent, genuine joy nonexistent. 

“If I may say, you’re more lovely than I heard.” She compliments you, offering another one of those sweet smiles. And like the fool you are, you trip over both your feet and words. 

“A-ah, you’re too kind. If anything, the saying goes towards you.” Your neck feels hot and your mind is turning to mush. “Truly, you are indeed an interesting person.” 

She stops again, taken aback. But she quickly recovers before returning back to the conversation. “Interesting? You’re the first person to describe me as such.” 

“That’s a surprise. I thought many would have.” You think about it. What was the first thing everyone notices about Roxana? Her beauty, of course. 

But, as a reader, how could you ignore and forget her personality? 

…then again, this entire time you were mentally obsessing over her appearance and voice. You were no better than everyone else.

You take a turn in the ridiculously long hallway. Just for a moment, tranquility replaces the harshness of reality. Funny. 

One moment you’re afraid of her and the next she brings you peace. She’s a bit easier to deal with than Dion. Softer, gentlier, and outwards she is humane. The most sane person in this hell. 

“We’re in the main hallway.” Roxana informs, and the staircase looks familiar. When you had made your way with Hana to the dining room, you were disoriented so hard you didn’t even realize your feet were moving. 

“Up these stairs and we’ll be closer to your room.” Roxana tells you, a hint of disgust in her  voice. Aha. So she doesn’t want to go near him. Then why guide you? 

“Oh,” you say, “how nice.” How wonderful indeed, seeing the husband who left after your first night, who’s acting weird, who’s brutal personality is hidden beneath a layer of indifference, who probably stalked you while - 

Oh. 

Oh God. 

Never once did you think of the possibility that Dion Argece had stalked you during the duration of your engagement. The shampoo, the sheets, that horrifying look in his eyes - 

“? Are you okay? You look pale.”

Roxana’s question brings you back to reality. Blinking, you try to calm yourself before your breathing gets heavier. Your heart won’t stop rattling. Your blood won’t stop rushing. Your ears are ringing. 

“Oh. Oh, yes, of course. I’m just a bit… nervous.” Did he stalk you? If so, why? To drill even more fear into you, to show you that he could easily cause you harm? To silently threaten the safety of your family if you were to ever act out? 

“But yes, I’m fine. Just need a minute to gather myself.” 

Either out of curiosity or obligation, or even consideration, Roxana lets you do just that. 

- - -

You got to the door sooner than wanted. Way too soon. 

Despite the show your sister-in-law displays, she can’t hide the disgust and hatred in her eyes as she stares at the heavy double doors. You don’t blame her. Even if he acted out on orders, your husband still killed her brother. Their brother. 

He also attempts to harm her mother. Just to see her cry. 

…would he do the same to you?

“Well,” turning to her, you show a smile. It doesn’t reach your eyes. You’re too tired to even try. “Thank you for showing me the way.” 

You open the door before she could even get a word out. Shut it behind you before every single ounce of bravery evaporates, leaving you a slimy mess. Monster or not, Dion Argece is still your husband. And, as you were raised, you have to play the role of his wife. 

 His pretty, little, obedient wife. 

Only to see that no-one is in the room. 

“...haha…wow…hahaha!” like a mad woman you giggle, falling to the floor as your legs give out. Was it from stress? Relief? Does it matter? 

You’re happy - you don’t have to see his face for a bit longer. Even if it’s only for a minute, you don’t have to be in his presence. But with happiness comes realization - Dion will eventually show up. He told you such. 

“...I… I just want to sleep.” your shoulders slump as you become boneless - so much happened within the span of a few hours. Odd behavior, old memories, confusing feelings - you’re not meant for this environment. Forget about being murdered or tortured - your mind would dismantle before anything could happen. 

The floor is uncomfortable but all of your strength is gone. Were you always this weak? This hopeless? So much that you couldn’t even last a single day. Pathetic. 

“...” ahead of you is the bed. The same bed you lost your virginity on. The same bed you will have to share with your arranged husband. It was comfortable, but the fact you laid with Dion on it makes you sick. 

You’d rather sleep on the floor. 

Moonlight fills the room from the glassdoors closing off the terrace. Jeremy said you should escape. Is it worth it? Was jumping off the terrace to attempt an escape worth it? Would you survive it? 

Get caught? 

Die?

Your mind is becoming muddy. You haven’t even met with Lant yet. The worst of the worst. Yet here you are, already thinking foolishly. Of course you would be caught. Dying wasn’t something you wanted to do, though. Neither was being punished for attempting an escape. 

Your ears perk at the sound of the door opening behind you. 

“Do you find the floor more comfortable than the bed?” Low and deep, Dion doesn’t even properly greet you. Well, not like you want to either. 

You want to tell him to try it in spite. But you’re too tired to even turn around and face him, much less stand. His footsteps get closer until he’s right behind you. Your eyes shut close. 

“Wife.” he calls once, and you don’t respond. You don’t want to.

You want him to stop calling you that. You want him to stop talking to you. You want him to stop existing. 

His footsteps echo in the room before he kneels in front of you. Finally, you look at him. What type of expression are you making? 

His hand is cold as he brings it up to cup your cheek. Scarlet that glows in the moonlight that looks at you in such a strange way. Do you know what was swirling in his eyes? Do you want to?

“...Dion. Welcome back.” acknowledging him, you peel his hand away from your cheek. He already touched you the night before. That’s enough. 

Instead of leaving, he grasps your wrist. Firm enough to where you couldn’t tug your hand away. You eye it before giving up. Just for now. 

“I’m sorry, but i’m too sore from last night,” you say, assuming that sex is on his mind. Obligation, lust, routine. Either one could be the reason. 

“I’m not here for that. Nor do I want it.” 

Your head tilts to the side before he continues. “Father expects us to dine with him tomorrow.” 

“I see. Is that all?” 

“You look dead,” free hand cupping your face - again - Dion gently swipes his thumb under your eye. “Worse than when you showed up for dinner.” Hah. Is he enjoying himself?

“I’m just tired,” lying your eyes travel to your lap. “I’ll… if that’s all, then I’ll retire to bed.” You want him to leave you alone. You want to go home. 

On shaky legs you force yourself up and your husband lets go of your wrist. Your knees buck as you walk towards the bed. It’s fine. It’s going to be fine. All you need to do is make it to bed. Changing clothes isn’t even on your mind - you just want to lay down. 

“You’re not going to change?” Your husband inquiries. What was wrong with this man? He barely spoke a word to you before the wedding. He left after cumming and leaving you alone, in pain and shivering like a fucking newborn foal. He didn’t spare a fucking glance at you during dinner until his siblings showed up. 

“Where is Hana?” You ignore his question, focusing on the one person who doesn’t feel like a death trap. 

“She retired for the night. On Roxana’s orders.” 

“What? Why?” you almost get whiplash from how hard and fast you turn your head to look at Dion. Your husband has been looking at you this entire time. 

“She didn’t think I’d show up here.” 

I wish you didn’t. I wish you would have stayed indifferent as you were until today.

“Oh. Then, I’ll just sleep like this.” Flopping onto the bed, you kick your heels off. The corset is still tight, and it makes it harder to breathe. But you refuse to ask him for help. 

Thankfully, your husband makes no move to. Instead you hear him walk and the sound of the closet opening. Ruffling of the clothes before it stops. From what you heard, nothing dropped to the floor, rather, heavy boots walk towards the bed until they stop right at your side. 

Amazing how being so mentally and physically worn makes a person forget their survival instincts. How it makes fear turn into annoyance and gulps become huffs. 

But annoyance becomes confusion when something soft and loose lands on your back. Did he just… throw something on you?

Why can’t your husband just pick a side? Decide to ignore you. To be nice to you. Not go back and forth like it’s a fucking swing boat. 

“Wife,” there he goes again with that dreadful title, does he not remember your godforsaken name? “You won’t fall asleep with it on. You’re unable to.” You’re one second away from tearing your hair out. One second away from strangling him. 

You can regret everything tomorrow. 

“... Will you leave me alone if I change?” Supporting yourself on your shoulders you crane your neck to look over your shoulder. Your husband only nods, not explaining why he’s so insistent on having you change. 

You’re so done that you don’t even realize he’s enjoying this side of you. Your frustration, your annoyance, all spent and directed towards him. Tomorrow, when you’re of clear mind you’ll freak out, kicking and yelling at yourself for risking making him mad, only to question why he didn’t say anything in the first place. 

“I can’t reach behind my back,” you communicate to him, waiting for his reaction. A reply that may never come. 

“Just lay face down. I’ll untie it and won’t touch you further.” You wish he would leave and maybe fall down the stairs and break something. Ah, but maybe Lant should go through that instead. Break his neck and lay there, lifeless. How would the scene play out after that?

“Alright,” you give in, preparing for a war that doesn’t exist. Dion removes whatever he threw onto your back before nimble fingers quickly and carefully undo the strings on your dress. Once he’s done with that, he works on the corset, completely gentle. 

Wait, something wasn’t right. 

“Wait, how do you know how to undo the strings so quickly?” Waiting for his answer, you don’t make an effort to watch his reaction. You’d rather not look at the man who’s walking on thin ice right now. Yes, you are going to consider chucking yourself into the nearest river tomorrow. If you could find one. 

“... I was taught.” 

“By?” 

“A teacher.” 

He leaves it at that, choosing to leave out the details. It makes you suspicious. …was he also taught those techniques by a so-called teacher too?

Considering the amount of wives Lant has, STDs most likely don’t exist in this world. Regardless, the mere thought of your husband sleeping with someone before you irritates you. Not because you were jealous or anything of that sort, no; but because it was hypercritical. You were expected to stay ‘pure,’ a virgin while -

“You are the only person I’ve touched, much less slept with.” Was he a mind reader? Or were you just that obvious?

“As your wife, I think I should meet and thank your ‘teacher.’” Exhaustion does wonders to a person. The brain doesn’t work as it should and fright is no longer a thing. Instead it’s replaced by reckless behavior and a clouded mind. 

“Although, I do wish they also taught you aftercare.” 

“That person,” Dion begins, “is someone you know but are unable to see.” Sure Dion Argece, sure. “As for afterwards… Father called for me.” 

“Mhm. For what?” Cold fingertips barely graze your spine as he looks at your skin. By now everything was untied yet the male doesn’t move. With lidded eyes he considers biting it. But he’s already breaking his promise by granting himself to graze it. 

And you’re giving him a pass, perhaps with a blurred mind. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be having this conversation, much less show something other than fear in his presence. 

“To discuss further action regarding our marriage.” 

“You know,” you yawn out, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, “most people in arranged marriages would refer to the marriage as ‘this,’ not ‘ours.’” The call of sleep is tempting you. 

“I’m not most people.”

“I know. If you were then you…” 

“Then what?”

Then you wouldn’t be a product of two insane and mental people. You wouldn’t be so jaded nor affection starved to the point you consider hatred as it. You wouldn’t have killed your own siblings or live solely to make one cry. You wouldn’t wander around the earth until your sister decides to kill you. 

You change the subject. “You could have let me finish at least once. It was my first time - you’re supposed to make it a positive experience.” Why you brought this up, you’re not sure. You doubt he feels guilty about it. 

“...Should I make you now?” He traces your spine, the cold sensation making you shiver. Odd. His touch doesn’t feel as gross as earlier. You must be going mad. 

Even more so since you’re hallucinating the hint of hunger in his voice. 

“No. I hated the entire thing. Just jerk off and I’ll shove it in, or something.” The idea of his cum going anywhere near you repulses you, but you understand your role as a wife. His wife. 

“You also found my crying cute. I don’t like that, I actually hate it.” Was communication always this easy when your body is boneless and mind worn? Was he so talkative because he’s tired as well? 

“I can’t help it, “ Dion rubs circles between your shoulder blades and it makes you melt. For a split second, you forgot who you’re talking to. Where you were, who your husband was, your in-laws forgotten. For a moment, everything was ordinary and domestic. 

“I enjoy seeing you cry.” His fingers travel higher until his fingertips are at the sides of your neck, feeling your pulse. He wants to squeeze it, see you squirm. The urge to make you cry over and over again from overstimulation gets harder to resist. You’re allowing him to touch you, to see the skin of your back, to see you so vulnerable - surely, you could offer him a taste too, right? 

“...You’re not supposed to be this way.” A light chuckle comes from your chest. “You’re supposed to be brutal, selfish, unredeemable - well, you probably still are, but still. You’re not supposed to be married nor basically asking your wife to fuck.” 

You go on. 

“You’re not supposed to be this way. You’re driving me crazy, acting so different from what I know.” You’re supposed to be the character that was written in the series. Not… whatever this is.

Maybe you misunderstood his character. But you never did finish the novel and the webtoon was put on hiatus because of the shit the artist went through… you hope she’s doing better now. Way better. 

“Even Jeremy and Roxana are behaving weirdly.” You leave it at that, becoming silent. Dion doesn’t say anything. 

You decide to ask him a question that’s been nagging you ever since he mentioned his ‘teacher.’ 

“Oh, by the way… how would you react if I also had a ‘teacher’?” An undertone of teasing laced your voice - of course, you didn’t mean it. Unless it was a lover, you wouldn’t sleep with anyone outside of marriage. Although, you never did enter a relationship once prior to your engagement. 

The atmosphere becomes stiff. You suddenly remember who you’re dealing with - an Argece. Dion Argece, to be exact. 

Horror spreads throughout your body once you realize just what you asked him. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel him lean over you, fingers putting slight pressure on your neck, a silent threat to choke you. He’s like a heavy cover, you can barely breathe. 

When he talks it’s lower and deeper, sinister and possessive, his breath hitting your ear as he answers. 

“Easy. I would kill them.” 

[hxlxnaaa]

𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

★ synopsis: unrequited love manifests itself as a beautiful disease

★ character: zayne

★ cw: first-person pov, university au, hanahaki disease, ANGST

★ word count: 2k

★ a/n: zayne my angsty king. who needs happy endings am i right??? (i'm so sorry)

Google Search: Why am I throwing up flowers??????

Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies. The flowers can now be surgically removed, but all feelings towards the beloved will dissipate.

I already knew what it was. Everyone does. From the first tulip petal I coughed out while working on my essay, to the bouquet that came up from my lungs, covered in blood, just days later.

It was progressing rapidly as the days went on, and everytime I took a breath my lungs would constrict; the vines curling around them, crushing my breathing ability, and my heart.

At first, I tried to ignore it. I’d go out with friends and attempt to go to class, but I felt embarrassed. Ashamed, even. I could feel their eyes on me, watching as I tried to smother my chokes in the middle of a lecture, only to have to dismiss myself to throw up a rose in the hallway.

It’s not like I could go through campus and see him, the one who gave me this. I ignored his calls, ignored his texts. Not that they came often anyways.

‘Are you okay?’

No, Zayne, do I look like I’m okay? I’m sitting in a pile of flower petals and my own blood on my bathroom floor.

Zayne. He was my childhood best friend, and growing up it always felt like I had to fight for an ounce of his attention. He was top of the class in highschool, popular with all the girls for being smart, stoic, and undeniably sexy. Not once did he entertain any of them, and it made them want him so much more. I was excited for college, thinking I could finally have him to myself, without feeling like I was sharing him with the whole school and his extra curriculars. I knew realistically he’d still lack the time for me, studying biology to go to med school, become a doctor, follow his dreams; and I would never be one to step in the way of that. I knew my place. I was just his best friend. I was aware there were boundaries I shouldn’t cross.

At least, until now.

I remember the moment it hit me.

After days, weeks of begging him, I had finally convinced the introverted, brooding nerd to go to a stupid frat party. For the laughs, I had said, follow the college stereotypes. ‘You only live once, Zayne!’ He humored me, I’ll be grateful for that. Giving it barely an hour (and a few free drinks), he quickly got sick of everything, inviting me outside. We sat outside on the driveway, the cool air a breath of freshness compared to the stuffy, sweat smell from inside.

A dumb rap song played inside, and Zayne looked over to me.

“Slow dance with me.”

I smiled and rolled my eyes, knowing it was the alcohol talking and not him. He’d regret this in the morning, and I’d get a stern talking to.

He stood, reaching his hand out, narrowing his eyes. I took his hand, figuring the least I could do was indulge in this moment. For once, his attention was fully on me.

I laughed as we swayed together, a muffled remix of a shitty rap song as our only background music. Looking up at him, I questioned when he had grown up so much. His once round, soft face with chubby baby cheeks had matured into a sharp jawline and high cheekbones I thought about grazing my hand over. Behind his eyes wasn’t a childish glint anymore, and I wondered how long ago that disappeared.

Pressing my face into his chest, I only felt us. One of his arms around my waist, the other holding my hand that was pressed against his shoulder. My free hand clutched his black jacket, like he would disappear into thin air, and my grasp was the only thing keeping him here.

To a passerby, it would’ve looked like a movie; two college kids dancing together outside of a frat party, holding onto each other like it’s the end of a world. In the movie, the two best friends would confess to each other the next day. The boy would rush to the girl's door, with a bouquet of flowers, gasping for air, saying “I love you, I love you, I love you, I never realized that I did.”

But only I realized. Only I realized I loved him.

Zayne never showed up on my doorstep the day after he walked me home that night. The only flowers I got were the ones that filled my lungs.

I refused to speak to him. I wasn’t mad at him, why would I be? It was my fault for forgetting my boundaries. For forgetting the rules. For thinking I had a chance since all the little highschool girls no longer followed him around like lost dogs. For once thinking that I was no longer his side character, for thinking maybe I could be his love interest in his story.

What would I say to him if we did speak? I couldn’t hide what was growing inside my chest. I couldn't hide my split lips from the thorns, or my scratchy voice. The dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep, too busy catching up on work from missed classes and not getting a break from coughing or vomiting. Tell him I was sick? He’d scold me for not taking care of myself, that I need to rest and eat properly. I didn’t want to hear it, scolding me for something he caused. His concern would only grow when I would accidentally cough up a flower in front of him.

Would he ask who I loved? Or would he just look right through me and tell me I needed to get the surgery to fix all of this. ‘Nobody is worth that kind of illness’ He’d say bluntly.

I knew I couldn’t face him. Not knowing if he even cares, yet knowing that the way I look at his face is different from the way he looks at mine. How he sees his future with someone who isn’t me.

“What are you going to do?” I was hanging out with a friend from one of my classes, Tara. She was the only person I felt like I could confide in about all of this.

We were hanging out at one of the campus coffee shops when I told her. It was a good day for my lungs, after almost overdosing on decongestants and ibuprofen.

“I’m not sure.” Twirling my spoon in my cup, I avoided her eyes. “It’s not like I can get the surgery. I can’t afford it.”

She looked me up and down, and I felt as if she could see into my soul. She did, Tara was like that.

“Can your pockets not afford it, or can you not afford it?”

Tara was right. I could afford the surgery, my university healthcare covered the surgery since students caught the disease so often;

But my heart couldn’t afford it.

It had gotten so used to loving Zayne, it would feel empty without the compassion for him. I feared I may act differently, lacking all love for him. Would he even notice?

I quickly made up my mind, looking out the window - seeing the person I dreaded the most.

Zayne sat outside in a car on the other side of the street, and I could only tell it was him if I stared hard enough. He was holding the hands of a girl I had seen around campus. Zayne had briefly mentioned her a few times, talking about the assignments they’d work on together, and I never thought too much of it.

He brought their hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand, and each of her knuckles. His face was gentle, a look I had never seen on him before. She giggled, and I wondered what it would be like to be her. To have him stare at me with all the love in the world, to be able to feel his soft pink lips I had stared at so many times, wishing to just touch, to just feel. To be on the receiving side of his care, his compassion, no more blunt harsh responses and stern looks.

“Hey-”

I turned back to Tara, and coughed up a flower on the table, and I choked back a sob. Tears threatened to poor, but I couldn’t embarrass myself more than I had with the bloody peony in front of me. She came around the table and hugged me, and I mumbled through quivering lips, “Can you take me home please?”

That night the girl had made it official that she and Zayne were dating. All the pictures on social media, the hearts that their friends commented on each other's posts. A disgruntled feeling made my chest spasm, any time I’d post a picture of Zayne he’d make me take it down immediately.

The morning of my surgery, I got up and put on my favorite sweater Zayne had gotten me for my sixteenth birthday.

“I got it for you last month when you stared at it in the shop’s window.” He smiled when he saw my excitement, one of the rare moments I could see his lips turn upward.

On my walk to the bus stop, I saw him sitting there. Once he looked up and saw me, he stood.

“Where have you been?” Zayne looked at me and frowned. I suppressed the immediate urge to roll my eyes.

“I never see you around campus. You’re never in your usual spots, and I texted you. I was supposed to help you study. Are you still attending your classes?” Even after not seeing each other for weeks, he still found a way to shame me. His eyes hard, lips pressed together into a tight line, I wasn’t even sure he was happy to see me.

The bus pulled up.

“Are you going to take the bus?” I asked him, avoiding his gaze.

He shook his head, “No, I’m waiting for-”

“Yeah, okay. I have to go.”

“Wait,” I turned around to him. It had begun to snow, so the small flakes sparkled on his head in the early morning light like glitter. He always loved winter, the snow.

He stared at me for a few seconds before shaking his head, changing his mind.

I nodded. “I’ll see you, Zayne.” Saying his name felt like acid on my tongue.

Turning around without taking another look at him, I boarded the bus.

Two days later, when I finally came home from my surgery, the only difference I could tell at first was that my chest didn’t hurt anymore. I could finally breathe again without feeling like I was choking on air. The doctors gave me a bag of all the flowers that they collected out of me, and at first I refused to look at them.

Yet as soon as I got home, I felt compelled to sit on my floor and sort through them.

I made piles of each flower, twirling them in my fingers before placing them in their designated places. Some had long vines that I used to tie them together into a crown.

After I finished, I spotted a jacket under my bed. I pulled it out to see it was the black jacket he wore the night we danced together outside that stupid party.

I took a deep breath of it, wishing I would feel the same way I did that night;

But I felt nothing.

It was now just a jacket. He was now just Zayne.

I put it on, wrapping it tightly around my body. I nestled the flowers along my head like a crown of thorns.

Looking at the girl in the mirror, staring at her with her blood stained flower crown, I broke down.

(divider by cafekitsune)