#i'm killing myself on live television

[knifeeater]

Hannibal   Ko No Mono

Interview with the Vampire  ... After the Phantoms of Your Former Self

[sharkjumpers]

aughhhh (clutches my cursed eye.)

[doctorcurdlejr]

This is from a longer post I wrote about I saw the tv glow but just posting this bit on its own bc of the conversation around the movie I guess:

The point is that this movie is one big glaring trans allegory about how it sucks dog shit to live in the suburbs, and even at our most repressed we find these little snow globes of actualization in the glow of a tv screen that isn't afraid to show you the world you see. I've seen some people say that, like, in this context accepting or coming into your transness is this monumental death of self, which I get, but I feel there lacks a nuance in that because either way Owen is dying. Unlike Maddy who buries herself alive only to come out renewed, Owen doesn't kill himself upon facing the reality that the world is constructed to keep him miserable and the only way out is to take back what it is that the world wants to keep scooped out of him. Instead he just passively lets it drag him to a much more permanent death. This lack of suicide sucks in the kind of way that forces you to sit in your car on the midnight drive home and think to yourself am I letting myself suffocate because at some point knowing the misery became less scary than admitting I've been capable of doing something about it the whole time?

Maddy is an out lesbian who left town to escape the misery and found it strapped to her ankles. She slinks out, an animal pressed against the gymnasium floor, and says "I'm not telling you anything you don't already know." Owen looks into the camera and narrates. He cuts himself open with a box cutter, fully acknowledges what's there, and the movie ends with his suffocating apology parade for the unremarkable inconvenience of his excruciating suffering. You can be gay and trans, you can know it and you can stop repressing it, but you're not going to stop suffocating until you can find a way to destroy the part of you that truly deeply does want to die, reaching for the comforting euthanasia of normalcy. Stop visiting the dream of the life you want and make it into your reality with the same kind of unrepentant conviction seen in some underfunded but wildly ambitious teen television series. In other words: you must try to survive the ego death of being weird. A weirdo, who doesn't fit in and doesn't want to fit in.

[selineram3421]

*sleepy*

Courting Pursuit

Part 2

Part 1

Alastor X Deer Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ gender neutral (gn) reader, mule deer reader, assuming Alastor is a marsh deer, Spanish translated, stalking-Vox, cussing, implied/suggestive, italics=thoughts, ha..watch out for the end ⚠

You continued to act affectionate towards him.

Even the others noticed and most of them would often ask you to do their work if it was related to him.

Niffty doesn't care and does her work as usual.

The thing is, you don't mind one bit and take up the work.

"Hola Alastor.", you'd greet him every time.

Today you were helping someone else, Husk to be exact, putting away some bottles in storage.

And then he heard that obnoxious voice of the sad excuse of an entertainment performer through his radio next to the television shop, Vox.

"Top of the hour! Today I have a special little treat for you, though the image is sadly glitched out, you can still see what is going on in the photo.", he says. "It's the Radio Demon, receiving an affectionate peck on the forehead from another deer!"

What a creeper. Alastor rolled his eyes and waited for the perfect moment to jump in and make the flat headed piece of tech look like a complete fool.

"From the looks of things, Alastor has a fuck buddy.", the TV demon grinned. "Wouldn't be surprised if he was taking it from behind.", he laughed and continued to rant on about innuendos like an idiot.

Turning a few knobs and flipping some switches, the Radio Demon was live.

"Salutations!", he greeted his listeners. "What an interesting start to the day! An overly cocky man acting like a news anchor when he doesn't have all the facts!", his smile widens. "For a demon asking his viewers to trust him, it's quite bold that he so blatantly lies to their faces."

"That's bullshit! I only provide the best-"

"Vox is so insecure and craving for attention from a powerful Overlord like myself, it's obvious that he's jealous.", Alastor laughed.

"Am fucking not you old timey prick-!"

"Why would he make such an announcement if not for that? Its clear to me that he wants someone to focus on him all the time.", he chuckles. "No wonder he always something new on his screens. But they lack so much that he has to resort to childish news broadcasts to seem important."

"Childish!?"

"As for the demon in the photo, that is a hotel guest and they do not understand English that much. There was a misunderstanding in translation and well..I'm not allowed to kill hotel guests.", then his voice switches. "This does not mean that I will let such an action pass, I will do something mμc# ￦θrs€ than death."

"You lying piece of shit! Tell me them the truth!"

"I should announce that the Hazbin Hotel has its doors open for all sinners who want a shot at redemption! Try to climb your way out of this fiery inferno, some might try to drag you back down, or you'll have trouble all on your own trying to redeem yourself! Anything is possible!", he put in his two bits for advertising the hotel. "And with that my wonderful listeners, I shall bid you all adieu~"

He switched on some jazz, not wanting to hear anymore of Vox's whining.

Something still irked him however..

Perhaps I should pay Rosie another visit. He thought. This time without them knowing.

As soon as he walked through the door of the emporium, his friend waved him over and pointed to her office, letting him know that she'd be there soon.

Once entering the office, he sighed and sat on the couch, already tired of what else would happen later in the day. He didn't want any other unnecessary conversations.

Rosie entered the office not too long after, setting her hat aside as she closed the door.

"You won't believe the gossip I've stumbled across today. Betty, the one with the pooch, not the one with the scar. She-", the woman started but then took notice of his mood. "What's wrong? You look worn out already."

"I don't know what to do with them. Vox, that piece of shit tech, has already made comments but I already put him in his place.", he sighed and ran a hand down his face.

"I heard.", Rosie let out a short laugh.

"The deer is still doing things, not as bold as the first time but I don't want them near me. It's-", he growled and made a choking motion with his hands.

"If it's bothering you that much, you know you can tell them to stop.", she says.

He looks up at her with a wide eyed stare.

She dead pans.

"Alastor. You know you can tell them to stop. Right?"

"The thought hadn't crossed my mind.", he simply says.

"Oh for crying out loud-!", she tosses a pillow at him. "You are unbelievable! Go and speak your mind! You've never had a problem with it before!"

She was right. Why had he been so bothered about something like this?

He should have spoken up about it from the start.

It was late when he returned to the hotel. The lobby was empty and he could only assume that everyone had long been asleep. Walking to the dining room, he spots the kitchen light on.

Angel is probably making an abomination of a hangover cure- He thought and opened the door, only to find the mule deer leaning against the counter half asleep.

You perk up when noticing him.

"Bienvenido. Hice la cena y te guardé un plato.", you wave and smile. (Welcome back. I made dinner and saved you a plate.)

"What are you doing up at this hour? Granted, it is Hell and there are barely any rules around here, sleep is still important.", he says as you pick up a plate covered with tin foil.

Taking off the foil, you give him a plate of food.

Your fingers brush against his, making him flinch back and drop the plate, causing it to shatter on the floor with a loud crash.

Instead of focusing on the mess, you looked at him with worry.

"¿Estás bien? No estás herido, ¿verdad-?", you reach out to him but he smacks your hand away. (Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you-?)

"Don't touch me.", he hisses out. "I am not comfortable with your advances, so I advise you to stop NOW before I tear you apart and make you into tomorrow's dinner."

With that you took a step back.

"No quería incomodarte. Me detendré. Perdóname por no tener en cuenta tus sentimientos.", you muttered and looked away. (I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I will stop. Forgive me for not taking your feelings into account.)

Alastor didn't bother trying to translate your response in his head, just walking around you and to the door.

"Lo siento.." (I'm sorry..)

He heard you whisper as he walked out of the kitchen, leaving you alone.

With a sigh, you kneeled down and began to clean the mess.

Sad times means cookies.

~Seline, the person.

Part 3

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @repentant-repeller @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @glowinggoldfish0 @tiredgamerhere @fluffy-koalala @valenfawkes @willowshadenox @aria-tempest @alastor-simp @nonetheartist @gallantys @i-3at-kidz @luxky-aish @ceafighter @xalygatorx @xangel-8 @sleep-7372 @wat4r @lustylita @xdolls-crownx @lonelysimp18 @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @dap11 @al1fers-haven @futureittomainn @random-3455 @+?

ML II Alastor🎙 | CP ChL🦌

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM THE SOPRANOS *  assorted dialogue from the television show, adjust as necessary

i find i have to be the sad clown: laughing on the outside, crying on the inside.

i went ahead and ordered some for the table.

when you're married, you'll understand the importance of fresh produce.

we've got guns here.

he just told you to shut the fuck up.

the things i take pleasure in, i can't do.

don't you ever say you hate life.

oh, poor you!

so what, no fucking ziti now?

you want compromise? how's this?

i'll keep this short and sweet.

you're weak. you're outta control. and you've become an embarrassment to yourself and everybody else.

sometimes it's important to give people the illusion of being in control.

are you in the mafia?

tomorrow i can be on time, but you'll be stupid forever.

let me tell you a couple of three things.

you're not gonna believe this.

a wrong decision is better than indecision.

i'm like king midas in reverse here. everything i touch turns to shit.

if you can quote the rules, then you can obey them.

we're soldiers. soldiers don't go to hell. it's war. soldiers kill other soldiers.

we're in a situation where everyone involved knows the stakes and if you are going to accept those stakes, you've got to do certain things.

there's an old italian saying: you fuck up once, you lose two teeth.

someday soon, you're gonna have families of your own and if you're lucky, you'll remember the little moments like this that were good.

hey, i don't even let anyone wag their finger in my face.

it's good to be in something from the ground floor.

those who want respect give respect.

is this a woman thing? you ask me how i'm feeling, i tell you how i'm feeling, and now you're going to torture me with it.

lately, i'm getting the feeling that i came in at the end. the best is over.

my father was in it. my uncle was in it.

maybe i was too lazy to think for myself.

buy land, 'cause god ain't making any more of it.

i don't care how close you are. in the end, your friends are gonna let you down.

family... they're the only ones you can depend on.

take your hat off.

teddy roosevelt once gave an entire speech with a bullet lodged in his chest. some things are just a matter of duty.

some people are so far behind in a race that they actually believe they're leading.

sometimes we're all hypocrites.

other people's definitions of you, sometimes they're more about making themselves feel better. you gotta define yourself.

people only see what you allow them to see.

death just shows the ultimate absurdity of life.

you know when i was depressed i said i didn't want to live? well, i'll tell you something. i didn't want to die.

that's why dinosaurs don't exist no more.

don't touch that! my program's coming on.

i wish the lord would take me now.

our existence on this earth is a puzzle.

i'm getting my wine in position to throw in your damn face.

[daddywright]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY APOLLO JUSTICE 🥳 I'M GONNA WHUMP YOUR ASS LIKE IT'S 2013!

In all seriousness, to celebrate our favorite orange lawyer, I've decided to reward everyone who's commented on "it never rains" lately with such lovely words of encouragement with a big-ass excerpt for the latest installment of pressureverse. I hope you enjoy it!! It's been coming to this point for a long time, and it's finally here. To the star of the show, I can only say... it's gonna be rough, buddy. Happy birthday!

Read below for the excerpt!

Miles

"Phoenix."

Low, distracted humming pauses over the sound of a bubbling saucepan. "Hmm?"

"Is tonight a special occasion?"

A spate of blinking as Phoenix turns to look at him, cheeks vibrant from the steam. There's tiny red drops of tomato spattered onto his shirt, and the counter is a familiar mess of half-used ingredients. It's Friday evening, after all, and on weekdays that keep him at the office late, his arrival home tends to greet him with a hurricane coastline in the kitchen. Luckily, Trucy is absorbed watching television in the living room, or it would be a category event.

"Huh? Special?"

His mouth threatens a smile watching the cogs spin in his husband's eyes, seeking potentially overlooked data, and he edges close to gently tap the wine bottle in Phoenix's left hand.

"Given that you're no fan of reds, one can only assume you're intending to treat me. Unless, of course, your intent is to make pasta sauce with a two hundred dollar French vintage. Either way, I'm flattered."

"T- Two hundred dollars?" Phoenix wheezes, eyes bulging at the bottle in his hand. His own smile breaks at the confirmation of ignorance, and he swallows a small chuckle as Phoenix carefully places the wine onto the countertop like it's a loaded gun. "Why do we even have wine that expensive?"

"It was a gift from the Japanifornian ambassador of Borginia. I'm sure it's a fine vintage, though it may be wasted in a bolognese."

"Jeez," Phoenix mutters. Without warning or opposition, his head tilts to thump against Miles's shoulder. "Well, I’m glad I didn't open it yet. I would have drowned myself. Or bribed Trucy to help me cover up the crime."

"That seems somewhat drastic," Miles hums, absorbing the warmth of Phoenix's cheek through his dress shirt.

“Two hundred dollars,” Phoenix repeats, with fervor. Miles doesn’t voice the thought it might have been worth the entertainment of his panic, knowing it will earn him a night of mockery over his perspective on personal economics. Contrary to popular opinion, he does know how much basic items should cost at the supermarket.

“Anyways... how was work?”

“Nothing unusual,” he replies, as Phoenix straightens up to resume his food preparation. His mouth twitches, weary, as Phoenix reaches for a knife and begins to start chopping an onion, already skinned and halved on a nearby cutting board. “Though... Franziska called today.”

“Yeah? She wrap up that arms-trafficking case yet?”

“Of course,” he says, dismissive— as if it would pose an obstacle— and pauses. He listens for the sound of the television in the next room, blaring familiar orchestra, and continues. “She didn’t call to talk about her work.”

Phoenix’s chopping slows, but he doesn’t look up. “Yeah?”

His stomach prickles with apprehension. “She’s growing... impatient,” he says lowly. “As you can well imagine.”

Phoenix’s shoulders form a tense line. “...I can.”

He still doesn’t look Miles’s way, chopping slow and steady. Miles shifts his jaw.

“She was accommodating, acquiring those records for us last month. But she is not a woman who appreciates being left out of the loop. Especially when she has suspicions about its connection to her work on the taskforce.”

Suspicions with ample justification. The progress she’s made with Interpol in the last few years has been more than impressive— contract killers have been a particular bone in his sister’s jaw ever since the Engarde case, years ago, and hounding the shadowy trails of men like De Killer has driven her to remarkable success with a taskforce under Interpol’s umbrella. Olga Orly’s testimony before her conviction had drawn Franziska’s predatory eye, and Miles had welcomed it, given the threat that woman could have posed to his family.

However... Franziska hasn't been apprised of all they've uncovered, and capable as she is, she’s begun to suspect as much.

It's been a point of contention. For several weeks, in fact. But Phoenix is a stubborn man.

Miles watches him silently stir the sauce, and quietly readies his own stance.

The facts being what they are, he understands Phoenix's point of view. Whoever hired Orly to murder Zak Gramarye did so to keep him from sharing information about Thalassa. Since the trial, they've examined seemingly every angle of the incident that led to her supposed death— but in the months that’ve passed since, finding any leads has proven more difficult than it should have been. Even with Kay’s best efforts, it’s increasingly clear that information about Thalassa has been wiped clean from nearly every avenue of government documentation— a feat that shouldn’t seem possible, given the fame and notoriety that the Gramarye family achieved at the height of their success. It coincides, however, with what Orly had implied during the last moments of her trial— that the person who hired her was someone of extreme political or financial influence.

Someone desperately wants Thalassa to stay buried. They have no evidence to suggest who, or why. They haven’t even been able to verify that she is alive, as Zak claimed. All that’s certain is that the truth is something that a certain party is willing to kill over, and because it’s all they know— because they are grasping at straws against a shadowy danger, and have been for months— he has made concessions.

He had reluctantly agreed, when Phoenix first told him, that the truth about Thalassa should be kept secret from Trucy. Not because she needed to be shielded from the possibility, but because they knew her too well. Trucy wouldn't be able to resist searching for her mother on her own time, and that posed an unacceptable danger. Loath as he was to conceal such a critical thing from her, he and Phoenix agreed her safety was paramount, with themselves still so much in the dark.

As a result, he’s grown accustomed to dodging his daughter’s earshot, in recent months. He despises how habitual it has become. However, as of today, he’s determined his agreement to secrecy will no longer extend to their other loved ones.

“It's time," he says, to his husband’s stubborn back. “At this point, she’s going to be furious that we didn’t tell her what we discovered sooner.”

“Miles,” Phoenix says, and the unspoken slant to his voice— the we’ve talked about this layered within—makes Miles’s stomach clench with irritation. “... You know how I feel about this. It’s not—”

“Do you doubt my sister’s capabilities?” he interrupts, before he can hear the same justification he’s heard a dozen times before. “Do you consider her untrustworthy?”

“No,” Phoenix says pointedly, knife stilling, “you know I trust her, so don’t try to make it sound like—”

“We are making little headway on our own, and she is a talented investigator,” he presses, pride rankling. “I understood your hesitation, at first, but—”

“Hesitation?” Phoenix issues, voice edging on a hiss. “I’m not being hesitant, I’m thinking about safety here.”

“Franziska can look after herself. She is more than capable—”

Phoenix puts down the knife, hard enough to clack against the cutting board wood. “We still have no idea who we’re dealing with or how influential they are. Just because Franziska’s Interpol doesn't mean she's untouchable. Besides, the more people poking around into Thalassa, the more likely we are to tip them off!”

“We are less effective on our own,” he counters, voice flinty. “And if our investigation brings danger to our doorstep, we’re putting others at risk by keeping them in the dark.” And it speaks to the core of what’s been eating his conscience, for months on end— not just the deception, but the potential danger that comes with it. “The people we trust to ask for help— they deserve the facts as we know them.”

Phoenix is stiff, now, staring into the boiling pot of marinara sauce. Shoulders squared. Muscles bunched in his jaw. Miles hates it. Hates the tension and anger coiled in Phoenix’s body, hates that he erased the calm he found when he came home. But he isn’t willing to bend anymore.

“I can’t,” Phoenix grits out. “I can’t be— I can’t put them in danger, Miles.”

“I am not asking your permission,” he replies, cutting, and Phoenix’s nostrils flare. “Just because you hide the truth from your sister, doesn’t mean I will lie to mine.”

Phoenix’s head snaps his direction, and they finally meet eyes. “That’s not fair,” he says, oversharp. “Goddamn it, Miles. You think I like this?”

“I think you’ve confused silence for protection,” he argues, glacial, and when Phoenix visibly reels back, eyes alight with it, he strikes first. “And I am just as guilty. Because I have allowed you to do so.”

Phoenix’s open mouth stalls, face flickering. Miles feels his stomach roll under the emotion on his face, having spoken the realization he’s been turning over in his head for days. He knows— has always known— the kind of man that Phoenix is. And that kind is a fool.

A stubborn, reckless, determined fool. A stalwart of belief. A man who triumphed with his mastery of evidence, on their control and righteous reveal. A man who would work himself broken to help someone who needed it, and who would suffer every burden in silence, if he could manage it. Even if the cost was great. Even if his sacrifice was unnecessary.

Miles is guilty of the same mistake that others have made, when it comes to his fool. Guilty in assuming that because Phoenix is capable, it means he is right.

He is capable. So much so it has put stars in Miles’s eyes. But he can be blind, too, in that what others might consider selfish, Phoenix finds responsible.

“I have allowed you to carry this,” he says softly, “because I was willing to do what I thought you needed, after the trial.” For you to feel safe. So you didn’t feel powerless. “But I cannot call fighting on your own what you need.”

“I... I’m not on my own,” Phoenix says, former anger cut in half in his voice. I have you, it means, and affection sweeps warm and painful into his chest.

"No,” he agrees. “But they aren’t children, anymore. Franziska and Maya neither need nor want your protection, if it means you do not have their support. And the same goes for your proteges.” Slowly, he reaches out a hand. Phoenix hesitates, only to sigh and take it.

“Look at me.”

Phoenix does. Their fingers slowly tangle.

“They act in your footsteps. Do you want them to learn this habit? To feel too afraid to ask you for help, out of concern for your wellbeing?”

Phoenix stares at him, hand warm in his, and closes his eyes. “...Damn it,” he whispers. His expression fractures. “...I hate when you’re this right, Miles.”

“You hate when you are wrong,” Miles corrects bluntly. “But that is something we both can be forgiven for, on occasion.”

“M’sorry.” Phoenix’s fingers tighten around his hand. “I— I shouldn’t have made you choose. Between me and Franzi.”

“It was not a choice. It was a strategic delay. I was always going to inform her.”

A humorless huff. “Okay, sure. But you waited. Because I asked you to.”

“Yes.” It’s unnecessary, to say what he meant by doing so, but Phoenix’s fingers squeeze around his regardless.

“I know I’ve been... paranoid, lately,” Phoenix admits, face shadowed with regret. “I— It just feels like. I don’t know. Like if I take a breath, then—”

Miles’s chest cramps. Phoenix hasn’t taken on a client himself since the trial, too focused on supervising Justice and Cykes and spending the rest of his time following leads on Thalassa. He’s noticed certain habits worsen. More often, his husband’s hand seeks the inside of his coat when they leave the house. More often, he wakes to find their bed empty. And it’s just one more reason why he resolved himself to tell the truth to Franziska.

They need to resolve this as quickly as possible. Not just for Trucy’s sake, or to catch a murderer, but because he’s reached his own limit. For dead-end leads, for withheld truths, and for the dark circles that have made a permanent home beneath Phoenix’s eyes.

"We will keep doing what we can,” he says. “But now, we will have more help.”

“I’ll call Maya tomorrow morning,” Phoenix says, sighing. “She’s gonna rip my head off.” Miles says nothing, because it is true. “I hate making her worry, Miles. Especially with all this tension going on between her and the Khura’inese envoys...”

“If you do not inform her, Franziska will beat you to it,” Miles says, to curb any chance of cowardice, and Phoenix grimaces.

“Ugh.”

With Phoenix on the ropes, he maintains momentum. “And your juniors?”

Phoenix shifts uneasily. “I... don’t know. Athena’s still adjusting and I can tell something’s... bothering her, right now. And if I tell Apollo, he’ll have a meltdown, and Trucy will be able to guess we’re all keeping something from her. It’s bad enough just we are. I want her to have them to turn to, if the worst happens and she’s...”

Heartbroken, he doesn’t say, and Miles feels the guilt of it lance across his stomach. “You have a point,” he admits, unhappily. They are, the lot of them, remarkable in their abilities, but even the single day he spent with the capability to sense falsehoods had proven overwhelming. There was a time in his youth that he wished more than anything that he was better at understanding and relating to other people. But the older he becomes, the more he realizes his own challenges are far more preferable to the burden of understanding too much.

“But if the time comes,” he begins, the memory of Apollo Justice awkwardly wrapped in Phoenix’s arms blooming in his mind, “don’t discount their—”

“Shit,” Phoenix yelps, and Miles blinks to the distinct smell of burning. “The sauce, oh my God, I forgot to stir it—”

“Daddy.” Trucy’s voice comes, worried, from the living room, and Miles watches Phoenix fumble with the gas, muttering curses.

“Yeah, sweetie, I’ve got it, nothing’s ruined—”

“Daddy,” Trucy says again, but there’s no relief in it. “Papa. I think you need to see this.”

They both frown, glancing at one another. Phoenix shuts off the stove, and they abandon the kitchen for the living room, the sound of a newscast filling Miles’s ears as they draw close.

“Truce?”

"Daddy,” Trucy says, turning from the TV. Her face is pale, ringing alarm bells in his mind. “Something bad happened downtown. I saw people talking about it online and turned on the news and...”

Miles turns to the television, the reporter’s voice increasing as Trucy dials up the volume. A reporter, standing in front of what looks like the GYAXA center downtown, above the headline at the bottom of the screen—

TRAGEDY AT COSMOS SPACE CENTER.

“...Coming to you live from the scene, we have the latest report from investigators about the terrible tragedy that took place at GYAXA mission control, moments before the long-anticipated launch of the HAT-2 space missile.”

Trucy gasps, and Phoenix draws in a quick, horrified breath. The name is familiar but Miles can’t immediately place it, attention locked onto the screen.

“Early this morning, authorities were notified that two devastating explosions had rocked the facility. The base is under lockdown after emergency responders were cleared to enter to rescue staff members on site. Currently, LAPD can neither confirm or deny that the fallout was a result of catastrophic failure or criminal act, but sources say that there has, in fact, been an arrest made. Though we are still waiting for final confirmation, we can report there has been one confirmed casualty.”

“Please,” Trucy whispers.

“GYAXA Director Yuri Cosmos released a statement moments ago, confirming the identity of the staff member lost to this tragedy.”

The screen flickers, and an older man stands at a podium draped in the GYAXA flag. His stern, aged face is layered with grief.

“It is with deep sorrow and regret that I must announce the tragic loss of one of our brightest and most talented young pilots. It is our hope that the authorities can get to the bottom of this senseless tragedy, so that we can honor the life he lived, and acknowledge his contribution to humanity’s dream of transforming the next frontier. My condolences go out to the friends and family of one of our best, taken too soon. GYAXA Flight Engineer Clay Terran... may the stars welcome you home.”

“No,” Trucy croaks, a horrible sound of denial. “No.”

Horrorstruck, he watches the portrait fill the frame. A young, familiar face, smiling into the camera, holding a helmet in hand. A face he’s seen at Christmases, birthdays, and graduations. A face he’s seen grinning at his child, making her squeal as he swung her around, laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Oh, God,” Phoenix whispers, and he turns to see grief, decimating his husband’s face.

Sobs break into his ears, Trucy covering her eyes and crumpling in on herself. Miles watches, paralyzed, as Phoenix moves robotically to her side. She grasps fingers in his shirt, weeping.

“Daddy. What—what do we do?”

Miles’s heart closes shut. Phoenix’s face breaks, stroking their daughter’s hair.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, voice cracking. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry—”

“How do we tell him? What do we do?”

Trucy looks up, and her face cuts a wound in Miles’s chest.

“Polly,” she says, and beneath her grief is a horrible desperation. “We have to go get him, Daddy. Polly.”

Watching this new pain dawn on Phoenix’s face, Miles feels his heart break cleanly in two.

xXXx

Phoenix

He knocks, then lets himself in.

He pockets the spare key by the door, quietly leaving his shoes near the shoe rack. He pads barefoot over linoleum, and there’s a mew as Mikeko chirrups quietly at his arrival, weaving around his ankles as he moves through the living room.

The apartment is dim and quiet. No lights, the last of the blue hour soaking into night. In the living room, the TV flickers over the news. It’s the same channel he last saw, with images of flames burning over Cosmos, and the reporters’ mouths move in muted silence. His heart climbs and calcifies in his throat.

He keeps going. Passing the hallway, drifting into the kitchen where Mikeko trots ahead of him.

He steps inside, and finds the cat curled at the feet of his owner. Apollo stands in the kitchen, barefooted. His back turned, hair curled damp on his neck from a recent shower.

He’s staring at the sink. Doesn't turn at the sound of footsteps.

Phoenix swallows. “Hey,” he says. Soft and low so there's no chance of surprise, in case his entrance wasn't heard.

Apollo doesn’t respond. In the silence, he can say nothing. He stares at Apollo’s back, throat closing shut.

That sweatshirt’s too big for him, he thinks faintly. Makes him look small.

Slowly, in heavy heartbeats, he watches Apollo take in a breath. Straighten his shoulders.

“I was going to meet you there.”

The sound of his voice makes Phoenix’s stomach sink.

Level. Steady. Completely untouched.

Oh, kid. He sucks in a breath, and he lets it go. “...Meet me where?” he asks.

“The station.” Calm. Too calm. “They arrested someone.”

His heart clenches, and then he understands. God, he does.

“Apollo,” he says, the whole name, and Apollo finally turns.

“I need to see them.”

Apollo's face is colorless. Empty. His gaze is unfocused, and in the dim light, his eyes seem—

Red. Mercury red.

“I need to see them,” he repeats, voice hollow. “Whoever they are. I need to know.”

Phoenix lurches a step forward. “Kid—”

“I need to know why. They'll tell me. If I see them, I can find out. Even if they don't want me to.”

His irises burn and burn. Unblinking, molten. Dread sparks in Phoenix’s stomach, almost afraid. Afraid that what's come over him is something Apollo doesn't have control of. Rattled, he finds himself stepping forward, intent to eliminate the distance between them—

Unfocused eyes find him and sharpen, sending a jolt through his heart. Their color drains to muddy brown, and Phoenix stills, breath caught in his throat.

“I—” Apollo blinks. The invisible wall on his face shudders, then holds. “I'll get my keys.”

He moves, walking past him, expression blank. Without a second thought, Phoenix reaches out a hand. The moment he makes contact, Apollo flinches away.

“Apollo—”

“Don't.”

His heart twists. “You know they won't let you in,” he says, trying for reason first. “Tomorrow, maybe—”

“I'm not waiting.” He opens his mouth, but Apollo cuts him down, words coming faster, “He'll lawyer up soon, and then my chance to see him will be gone. I need to—”

“You'll have a chance,” he counters, soothing. “I promise. But the cops won't let anyone in right now, so—”

“Then I'll go find someone who will talk,” Apollo snaps. Finally there's emotion on his face, and it’s fury. “Someone— anyone who knows something. Who they are, how they did it, when, why—” A schism, steamrolled over, “Someone at GYAXA has to know. I'll find out who and then I'll—”

“Do what?” he asks softly. Apollo freezes, face rigid, staring at him with that perilous nothing threatening the edge of his expression. “Pollo...”

“Why are you trying to stop me?” Apollo demands, with sudden volume that’s like a slap to the face. “Are you really gonna tell me that I should hand this off to someone else?”

“No, but I—”

“You’re such a hypocrite.” The word’s spat out of Apollo’s mouth like it’s been poised there a long time. “Like you’d do anything different. You wouldn’t hesitate. Don’t try to tell me to stay put like some stupid kid when I can do something—”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t,” Phoenix tries, strained. Apollo’s been angry with him before, but not like this, and it’s like the ground shifting under his feet. “I’m just saying to— to take a second, take a—”

“I can’t!” Apollo cries, his frayed voice shattering the dark kitchen, and Phoenix has nothing to say. To offer him.

There’s nothing that will fix this. That’ll make the pain any less.

“...I know.”

“Shut up.” His expression trembles, anger splintering. “You don't.”

“Pollo—”

“You don't know anything,” Apollo croaks. “You always act like you do. Like you know everything, like you know me. But you don't.”

His stomach twists like he's been punched. Apollo has always been private about himself, since the day they met. And he's never pried. He thought it would only push the kid away. He isn't the first person Phoenix has drawn close through a few walls.

But maybe he should've tried knocking.

“I'm sorry,” he says. Apollo’s eyes widen, taking shine, and his face cracks.

“Shut up.”

“I'm sorry.” He steps forward, and Apollo’s body tenses as if to run.

“Stop.” Desperate. “Stop it.”

“I'm so sorry, kid,” he whispers, voice thick. He reaches out again, with both hands, gently grasping slim shoulders.

“You don't know anything,” Apollo says, voice fracturing. He leans away, shoulders jerking from Phoenix’s touch, but his feet are rooted to the ground. “Don't— don't touch me, you're not my—”

“Trucy told me to come get you.” At her name, Apollo stills, his protests disappearing. If Apollo can't accept him, there is someone else who he’ll always permit. “She wanted me to make sure you were okay.”

Silently, tears well in Apollo’s eyes.

“I... I don't want her to see,” he whispers.

And Phoenix understands.

Is he the same age that I was? Did I look this young, too?

“It's okay,” he says, voice thin. “She just doesn't want you to be alone.”

Tears slide down Apollo’s face. “... I was,” he says. “Before. Without him. With— without him, I—”

A strangled noise, an awful hiccup of a sound like he can't breathe. And his face breaks apart into something so frightened that Phoenix can't bear another frozen moment.

Gently, he takes Apollo in his arms and drags him close. Resistant hands push at his shoulders, knocking weak fists against his arms.

“No. No, no. Please.”

Gasping sobs. The hands that push him away turn to claws, digging into his shirt.

“I can't. I can't, I can't.”

He holds him when his knees fail, supporting every scrap of his weight.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers, again and again. “I know.”

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, Season 3, Episode 13- Dear Emily and Richard-Part 5

Before we wrap up DVD & Abortion Gate, aka Dear Emily & Richard, here's my end of episode Bingo Card. I'm annoyed with myself that I always seem to forget these. I think they're fun.

Yeah, I do alter the squares a bit based on the most recent episodes but I try to keep it fair, lol. Like, there hasn't been a R&L D&D in a while so I may replace it with something else? Anyway, no Bingo this episode. When we last left off, Luke and Lawyer Lady With A Phone had returned to the diner after their date deep in a discussion about cheese. Jess is holding down the fort all by himself. I think about how if Jess and Rory were ever to move in together or get married their relationship would quickly implode when their polar opposite work ethics butted heads. You think Jess is going to be happy \working multiple jobs to pay the rent and bills while Rory is at home sitting on her spoiled ass. There's some gritty Literati realism for you. Luke snaps his fingers and orders his tired minimum wage slave nephew to pour Lawyer Lady a coffee. Jess offers to "Go out for an hour" so they can you know, play hide the pickle upstairs. Well that's certainly a nice gesture. What happens when the hour is up, by the way? Jess comes back home, now Luke has to shove his half naked date back out of the apartment before he gets back? Oh, Jess is definitely used to fleeing whenever his mother bought a man home while he was growing up, but I doubt Liz was ever considerate enough to actually give Jess subtle cues of Impending Sex, so, thank you Luke?

Thank you, I was hoping to get an idea of what time it actually was. WHY IS JESS WORKING AT 11:30 PM? (Also, Kirk is still there, and says he had been there for over four hours). Luke interrogates Jess about where he is "Going out" to at 11:30pm, but apparently sees nothing wrong with making him work past 11:30pm. Jess is slamming this hint over Luke's head just like the axe he slammed into Shane (RIP), Luke is either playing dumb or is actually dumb and doesn't pick up on it. Jess asks Luke if he "needs more time". Well, an hour is already pretty generous. How much time does Luke need to plow this lady? Big shot lawyer with a phone needs to be wined dined and 69'd. Wonder what Jess is going to do on his hour away from the coffee mines? Get up to some naughty second base hijinks with Rory? Oh, sorry Jess, you can't do that, because Rory can't say no to anyone, so she's currently asleep in a hospital waiting room with her mother, awaiting the birth of her Kinda A Sister whose existence means beans to her. Looks like it's jerking off in your car for you tonight, kid. Well, either that or a killing spree. Following up on that earlier threat towards Dean.

Luke smacking Jess upside the head outside is a glorious 2 seconds of television. But I mean, shouldn't Luke be thankful? He's doing you a favor. Do You WANT Jess to be home right now, Luke? Okay, I get it Luke. Even if you could get rid of Jess for a while, trying to perform sexually knowing your nephew could walk back through the door at any moment is definitely a boner killer and puts Jess in an equally precarious situation. (this is more or less the basis of an episode of King of Queens, by the way). The entire Jess & Luke living situation is a complete boner killer. Luke sabotages any chance of getting laid by marching the tired baby back into the diner where Jess makes things much less awkward by asking Luke in front of Nicole if Luke wants him to take an extra long shower instead. Where are Luke and Nicole going to pork then? Nowhere, that's where. This date's over. According to Luke earlier in the episode, he hasn't gotten laid in eons, and it doesn’t sound like Joanna Cooper put out.

Luke finally relieves Jess from his child-labor-law-violating shift and orders him upstairs, then (presumably) ends the date with Nicole. Looks like it's... jerking off in your car for you too, Luke. For some unknown reason Lorelai and Rory are still in the hospital waiting for GiGi to be born. Rory has fallen asleep in the waiting room. GO HOME!!!!! Crusty emerges in scrubs and Lor's Lorelai and then informs her of the birth of his child that she does not care about, nor is she a child that Lorelai is biologically related to. Crusty invites Lorelai to see Gigi in the nursery and says there's no need to wake Rory up which is for the best because she doesn't care about GiGi anyway.

As Crusty describes to Lor the sheer exhilaration of witnessing the birth of his Other More Valued Girl Child, Lorelai plasters on a fake smile and squashes down her homicidal rage towards Crusty, but that rage has never stopped her from boinking him over and over.

Welcome to the world, Geej. You are truly fucked, but at least you're not a Hayden. 4 things: One, the birth announcement lists her birth date as January 5th, even though it was established earlier that she came unexpectedly a week before February 7th. Was this the work of the same prop guy responsible for the Tomatos and On Sail signs? Two, they bestowed her with Sherry's last name instead of Christopher's. Three, Georgia was born at 1:17 am, which means by the time she's been birthed, cleaned up, spent time with Sherry, burrito'd in her blanky, and set up in the nursery its already hella later than that. It's gotta be at least 2am, dude. Maybe even 3. Lorelai, you and your kid have school and work in the morning. Neither of you have eaten or showered all night and you're stinking up the waiting room. Why didn't Sherry just agree to email you a picture of the kid or something? GO HOME!!!!

FOUR, where are Sherry's parents or any family members at all AND Christopher's parents? Here's a freshly birthed Rory. 20 inches long, 7lbs 4 ounces. Sign Guy got it right this time and didn't list her legal name as "Rory". But then she's named Rory on her police mugshot. You tried, Sign Guy. The show has been wholly consistent (as far I'm aware) with her birthdate being October 8th, 1984.

I'm impressed that they used real infants for this scene. First they used a real fish in the last episode, an upgrade from the Great Value CGI Fish earlier in the season, and now real babies. And they have the budget to pay a real life and fictional slimy worm named David Sutcliffe/ Crusty Hayden. The second to last flashback shows Fake Lorelai and Chess Club Crusty looking at Rory in the nursery. CCC says they should get married and Fake Lorelai hesitates. End of flashback. Just stick it out for another 23 years and Lorelai will be stupid and desperate enough to marry you, Crusty, and she'll have banged you several more times along the way too.

Yeah. She'll be just thrilled.

Crusty then plants a big fat kiss on Lorelai's face in front of his newborn with his fiancee who just birthed his kid a few feet down the hall, and Lorelai recoils. You slimy worm. Disgusting. Listen Geej, I know you're only an hour old, but blink twice if you need help, maybe we can Randall Pearson you into a nice new adoptive family. (Present Day) Lorelai starts to tear up, and it's unclear if it's because she's just been slimed by a worm or if it's due to the deep, deep trauma that dwells within her. Probably both. Cheer up Lorelai, you're living in the age of DVD players!

Security finally booted Lorelai and Rory from the hospital as Lorelai next shows up at Emily's house bright eyed and bushy tailed with that brand new state of the art dvd player she promised, and I strap myself in to hopefully hear all the delicious early 2000s technology references that are surely forthcoming. I am then disappointed.

Go ahead Lorelai. PLEASE say how much the DVD player cost in 2003. I am salivating. DANG. No dice. Lorelai offers to install the DVD player, Emily doesn't believe Lorelai capable of installing this futuristic piece of technology herself, Emily is happy that Lorelai bought a copy of one of her favorite movies, Lorelai is lightly pleased. Of course I Googled it. The average cost of a dvd player in 2003 was nearly 350 bucks! Final flashback. I have flashback fatigue, you guys. No more I say! Emily and Richard are all fancied up going to a ball or something at an undetermined time in the future-past. They can't find Lorelai. SURPRISE ABSCONDING, BITCHES! SHE GONE! GONE GONE. Gone to go live with her toddler in a shed behind a motel.

Did the show ever state why Lorelai and Rory, weren't you know, living indoors while Lorelai worked at the inn as a maid? In an inn with beds and running water? Mia employed a single teenage mother and said screw you and your baby, go live out back in the shed, these rooms are for paying customers! Anyway. The drama is about to be turnt up to eleventy for the remainder of season 3. I am wholly unprepared. It may be a long time before you see the words Swan Song. Maybe I'll try to come up with something else to fill the void?

[kiyomitakada]

what do you think misa would do with the death note if rem had brought it to her before light got his? or if light never got his?

oh my god hi thank you so much for the ask!!!!

so. hmm. misa immediately uses it to kill her parents' murderer, definitely — it's canon that she wanted to kill him even before kira appeared. since rem is the one who gives her the death note, she wouldn't go through the "is this a prank" phase light does. [not supported by canon but: i like to think she'd make his death hurt.] she also takes the shinigami eye deal, since she did in canon for non-light-related reasons (in case she ever runs into a stalker again, i'm guessing).

preface that this ^ is the only part that i'm sure of, everything else is entirely speculation that i could be convinced out of. but here's what i'm thinking so far:

it's tempting to say she'd kill people who wronged her/who she was jealous of as well, petty murders, but i don't think so. she knows kiyomi's and yuri's and mayu's names by the time she regains her memories but never actually writes them down (and we know she's good at cyberstalking so it's not a matter of whether she knows their faces or not)…

so instead i think she mostly goes after stalkers and similar forced-entry home-invasion murderers because she's never gotten over her parents, ever. (i deliberated for a bit over if she'd even want to use it, since misa doesn't care much about justice as a concept, but i really do think power like that is addictive.) misa doesn't particularly want to be god, and she doesn't really believe in establishing peace through fear as much as just killing all her enemies [live fast! die young! slay all my enemies!], so she mixes up the methods of death*. why would she want to be caught? the world probably doesn't even notice kira is a thing now, since misa is mostly focusing on japan. maybe a few reports about dropping crime rate but that's all.

[*honestly i have not convinced myself yet on this point. is misa lonely enough that she'd want her murders to be noticed? would she become kira just to have an adoring fanbase? we know she agrees with light's agenda, but would she have the motivation to start it on her own?

i debated myself on this for ages, but eventually decided that if you want to read that version of reality you should just read this fic instead because it's gorgeous and incredibly underrated and answers this question exactly. also it has kiyomi and mikami and naomi in it. but let's go in a different direction here.]

even better: gelus's death note isn't labeled DEATH NOTE, it's labeled ARVC-5 (fun fact, that's an irl gene that can cause sudden heart attacks!), so it's not suspicious and besides misa's already goth so she doesn't even bother hiding it much.

then either one of two things happens:

A) light comes into the picture

misa is kind of fucking annoyed now. in canon she's grateful to light for killing her parents' murderer of course, but in this universe that doesn't happen, so: this guy is making everything?? so obvious?? he killed someone on live television????

misa quickly realizes that the second kira is trying to establish a greater sort of justice, though, so she calms down. sure, why not, that's a nice goal. this is a much more selfless person than her, that's for sure.

the problem is that her group of people to murder overlaps strongly with light's. misa realizes this immediately, as in canon (where she murdered two celebrities to prove she was the second kira, picking victims she knew light wouldn't so the deaths wouldn't collide). if she keeps killing without coordinating with the new guy, he'll find out she exists, and she'd rather that happen on her terms and not his. she debates just sitting back and letting him handle things, but… no, what if he messes up? what if he's not as thorough as her? and besides, this is the only man on earth who could possibly understand what she's going through!

("i'm here too, you know," rem says.

"you don't count," misa dismisses. "you're not, like, human or anything.")

so she puts her plan in motion. i think she does this pretty much the same way, except that when the task force & co. respond to her tape (with light writing the whole "i'm the real kira and i don't think you should be threatening actual police officers" thing) misa isn't desperate enough to just concede. is this guy stupid or something? they need to kill L! (well, L's been kinda useless so far, but isn't it about the principle of the thing? didn't he kill lind l tailor??) so she sends the tape thanking kira for the response, but keeps insisting on showing L on live television. since kira is obviously incompetent, she also sends him the diary page right then and there.

this sends the task force into a bit of a panic. if L goes onto tv it's game over so they have to catch the "new" kira before then. and they've only got four days!

their only lead to the identity of the new kira is the fingerprints left on the tape envelopes. aizawa is ordered to look up the fingerprints in the npa database but doesn't find anyone (because misa's friend hasn't been arrested for any crimes and so her fingerprints aren't in there). light is fucking delighted. whoever this man is, he's smart! he didn't fall for L's tricks!

aaaand okay i was going to figure out the whole plot but i genuinely have no idea how L & co are getting out of that one so i'm stopping here. in broader terms: misa finds light regardless and they team up. misa still asks to be his girlfriend and still threatens to kill any girl who light talks to but doesn't give him her death note, which surely will not backfire. in general terms i think they start out on much more equal terms because misa doesn't see him as her savior but does still say she fell in love with him at first sight. iiii don't know if they devolve into canon dynamic over time or not, someone who understands yagamane better can handle that lmao (please feel free to add on to this post!!)

B) light never shows up

honestly? i think this is the worse end. misa's motive is less prevention and more punishment imo (not that we really get much of her motive in the first place), so she never really runs out of stalkers or burglars to kill. she becomes a model, and then an actor, still. sayu likes her movies and light only knows her name in reference to his sister's infodumps. maybe she marries someone; she tries to put it off because she's searching for that one true love, her soulmate, the other end of her red string, but she never finds him and she's turning thirty soon and if she doesn't marry soon her beauty will run out and no one will want her so she traps herself into marrying someone who is desperately in love with her (and reminds her of rem) (rem has no comment on this). if he ever tries to assault her, she reasons, she can just straight up kill him. he doesn't. but she never does love him, either.

and so misa amane dies alone. as she always does.

[katxxgrace]

ArthurTv - I Wait For You

Warnings: Swearing/Adult Humor, Fluff.

Chapter One - Arthur Frederick POV

Birds Don't Sing

She was so beautiful, not only in the way that I found her physically attractive. She was attractive in every sense of the word. Angelic featured that fit her face perfectly - her warm, compassionate smile she rarely allowed to spread across her face, making it all the more wonderful when she did, her shaded, eyeliner-surrounded eyes that lit up when she heard a song she particularly liked, or when she received a compliment. Her soft, silky hair that flowed from her scalp like a beautiful brunette waterfall, the way she dressed how she wanted - nobody could sway her opinions of how she wanted to represent herself which I dearly admired and respected about her.

And of course, her wonderful [in every single way] personality, her humor - the jokes she told, the way she could make me laugh at her own annotations she would add to things she thought no one would notice or find funny. The level of raw emotion she felt and put into things she did - an unrivaled, unapologetic passion for things she loved.

She was perfect in every sense of the word - charming, and funny, and gorgeous, and smart in her own ways, and a million words more I wish I could say to her-

"Arthur! Jesus Christ..." Georges voice rang through my whole head, waking me from my thoughts and bringing me back to whatever planet I lived on.

"Did you actually watch any of that or were you daydreaming the whole time?" Chris joked next.

I spoke meekly, "No, I was just thinking about something that's all."

A light chuckle left George's lips, "What about, I wonder?" The sarcasm thay ran through his voice made it painstakingly obvious of what he meant.

"I wasn't- I'm not thinking about Y/N, okay?" I defended myself, knowing what was coming next.

"You so were," Chris teased, sighing out a low laugh.

I looked down at my lap, "I swear I wasnt."

"What were you thinking about then? Chess?" George grinned.

Chris let out a loud laugh at the statement.

I stood up, "Whatever," walking out of the room, hearing their continued teasing of me, I made my way towards Y/N's room.

Knocking on the door, I waited for her to come open it, smiling up at me as she always did. As the door opened, I heard faint music from her television, Spotify open to a song I didn't recognise.

"Arthur!" She wrapped her hands around my waist and I jumped my arms back slightly, suprised at the sudden show of affection.

I placed them around her shoulders, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair and the contrasting muskier scent of - my cologne?

"You... smell nice- is that my cologne?" My heart hurt a little. I wasn't sure why.

"Yeah, sorry," She smiled shyly, "My perfume ran out and any of the others would've killed me. I hope you don't mind?" she looked up at me, slightly concerned.

"Hey it's okay, I don't mind! You should've just asked."

Smiling again, she grabbed my hand and brought me into her room. It wasn't unusual as we often just sat in eachothers rooms and just talked for a while.

I closed the door behind me with my foot.

My heart fluttered from the contact between out hands, long, bony fingers wrapped around my palm. Her hands were soft but incredibly cold, which didn't suprise me.

I watched her skip the song, eyeliner around her eyes heavily smudged.

Leaning over, I warned: "Stay still," wiping the makeup with my thumb. Electricity ran from my fingertip, down my arm, and rested in between the butterflied in my stomach and the loud, erratic beating of my heavy heart.

She looked perfect as she beamed up at me, "Thank you."

A song came on and she immediately seemed excitable, turning it up by four.

I listened as the song started:

------------

She said, "How could you joke at a time like this?"

I know why, because this is what you wanted all along now, isn't it?

I think that all you ever really ever wanted was a reason to complain,

That never stopped you before, don't let it get in your way,

Those are her words, not mine,

As far as I'm concerned, we could've had a good time, so,

If you walk out that door in disgust,

I guess there's nothing more to discuss.

------------

Y/N stood up from the bed, walking around it before stopping in front of me and grabbing my hands, removing them from my lap and attempting to pull me from my position, clearly not strong enough.

I helped her by standing up, hands still entagled with her own.

She started to move on her heels slightly, dancing awkwardly.

I smiled, seeing her anxiousness to dance properly in front of me, letting go of one of her hands, holding it high above her head and twirling her around.

Giggling softly, she moved elegantly but somehow clumsy and disorganised at the same time, laughing and spinning and looking oh so stunning. I felt a warm spread across my chest and up my neck, forming a blush on my cheeks.

------------

Birds Don't Sing,

They just fall from the sky,

Girls don't call,

And they never tell you why,

That's just how they say goodbye,

Goodbye.

------------

The world slowed down as she whirled in front of me, a blur of uncoordinated, beautiful movement. The smell of her hair filled my nose and kissed all the way down to my lungs before fluttering and resting as peaceful, humming butterflies lower in my stomach.

"Your hands are so cold," I blurted out - of course that was the most romantic thing I could've said. 'Wow, temperature'. I mentally scolded myself after saying it.

She eased my nerves when she had laughed, "Sorry," she batted her eyelids at me as I widened my own.

"Why are you apologising?"

"I don't really know."

------------

Don't listen to my music, don't lie in my bed,

Don't listen to the references to things you might have actually said,

'Cause those are my words, not yours,

As far as I'm concerned, it could've been a lot worse,

I wasn't trying to avoid the confrontation,

She isn't crying, she's just making conversation.

------------

She collapsed onto her bed, looking up at the ceiling with a giddy grin plastered across her beautiful face. Patting the space next to her, she let out a sigh.

I took the spot gratefully, imitating her position. She bent her knees, bringing them up so her feek lay flat on the silky sheet beneath her.

------------

Birds don't sing,

They just fall from the sky,

Girls don't call,

And they never tell you why,

That's just how they say goodbye,

Goodbye.

------------

The end of the song had me drifting into a warm, inviting sleep. Looking over at her, I floated into a shallow nap, breathing deeply and eyes growing heavy.

My dreams welcomed me with open, loving arms. I saw her, Y/N, god she looked beautiful. She waved me over to where she was lay on her side in my hoodie and a pair of my boxers. Her other hand lay rest between her thighs.

Her warm presence enough for me to walk over to her, I looked down at her. She stood up, not much taller than chest level compared to my height.

Fluttering her eyes at me endearingly enough I leant down to kiss her, she wrapped her arms around my neck and tangled her fingers through my hair. She was stood on her tiptoes, smiling into the kiss.

Waking up cuddled into her pillow, seemingly tucked in, with Y/N lay next to me sleeping was almost beyond belief as my dream.

I imagined we were in this situation romantically, and we loved eachother and had a future together.

Next chapter: I Wait For You.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED LOVELIES <33

[strawberryamanita]

Okay, so... hoo boy.

I try to acknowledge every time I make a political post that I cannot tell anyone what to do. I'm one irrelevant person, I'm not a political spearhead nor do I want to be one, I haven't been able to sway anyone about anything, yadda yadda blah blah blah. If this post gets completely overlooked, so be it. If I get verbally trampled-on by people who don't agree with me, so be it.

But while everyone else is causing a flood of coins on the floor, I'll throw my own 2 cents in.

I think what would be helpful right now -- just in this moment, for the short-term -- is getting through these feelings of worry and despair and panic that I see many posts on my feed announcing. The facts are in front of us: there was an assassination attempt, it failed, and that's worrying because it's gonna embolden the Right even further than they've already been lately. That's completely reasonable to be upset about, it's not irrational to see the danger this will put us in on the streets on the days leading up to the election.

At the same time, there ARE, believe it or not, some positive facts that are having an impact on your life right now. Trump had to go the hospital. He could possibly have a heart-attack. He could possibly go septic. He could possibly be assigned a medical professional that is brave enough to kill him. There was a person brave enough earlier today to show him and his following that enough people in the world hate him to want him dead. Social media being flooded with cheers that he was injured and laments that it didn't kill him is further proof to said willfully ignorant following that they are in the minority. Even if more US voters are enthusiastic about Trump as I type this, most of the world wants him obliterated, and that should be something to hang onto. So much of this is about ego and confidence of the Right. It's not in our best interest to let them think they have a leg up on us.

And the biggest piece of good news is, the US presidential election didn't happen yet! That wasn't the last stand right there, that wasn't the ballot count or the televised verdict. "Surviving" a non-lethal shot that didn't hit any important organs or arteries doesn't mean you automatically win an election. That didn't push an Eject button on Biden's seat to launch him out of the White House or anything like that.

Trump is not invincible. He is not immortal. He is not unkillable. And just because his cult of followers want to canonize him (though they wanted to do that before he was even elected the first time), that doesn't mean WE are obligated to throw in the towel and hang our heads and lick their heels. If it's cathartic or it's helping you de-stress, then by all means cry all you need to -- but we unfortunately can't afford to let this sink us into a collective depression.

He didn't win an election that hasn't happened yet. I promise you this. Look on ecosia.org if you need proof of who is in-office, since they don't use AI(currently).

And no, none of this is to downplay anything. I'm not living in a lie. I promise you, I've been making myself physically ill from the horrors of the world I've been exposed to, day after day, non-stop, on this fucking website. If exposing myself to the bottomless abyss of human evil actually desensitized me and helped me be less fearful, it would've worked by now, but all it does is exhaust me.

It honestly oftentimes makes me actively suicidal -- and I know for a fact I'm not the only one, especially after today, or when Trump was granted legal immunity, or any of these other awful past days. But if I killed myself before I did everything I could to keep this sinking ship of a country afloat just a little longer, that wouldn't be responsible of me.

So, if you're still reading, and not already typing out some response accusing me of things I already tried to tell you I'm not doing before you even finish reading...

Now is the time to practice being brave.

Look at the facts. Don't let yourself spiral from doomscrolling. Cry when you need to, and then keep going. Vote in every local election you can, attend protests and rallies, spread information from trustworthy sources to every social media handle you have -- and for God's sake, find something to keep you hopeful. Escapism is a survival tool: as long as you aren't using it to avoid reality, it doesn't have to be eliminated from your life. You will feel stronger if you let yourself recharge with moments of happiness, I guarantee this.

If you're too suicidal to keep going for yourself, keep going for someone else. It can be someone in your immediate life, it can be a stranger suffering overseas, it can be a child who hasn't been born yet that will see a future built on top of our present. Whatever it takes to keep you from giving up, put it to the front of your mind. Link arms with your Leftist siblings, and then make a habit of it. We cannot keep collapsing from the inside from the smallest of inconveniences, it helps literally none of us.

It's not over until they ring that bell. We have 3 and a half months, don't lose speed now.

I believe in you.

[yourhighness6]

A Yue Stan's Thoughts on Yue's Character in NATLA

As much as I appreciated what NATLA was trying to do and think it is worth a rewatch, can I just say as an unapolagetic Yue stan that they completely ruined her, and Yukka by extension.

And say whatever you want about her scenes leading up to the sacrifice (which did make me cry, I'll admit, her speech about living was actually a nice addition), but it was actually this line that left me absolutely seething and in my opinion proves that the writers completely misunderstood what made the sacrifice so powerful:

I actually had to pause the television and collect myself after this one because holy fuck is this the stupidest thing I've ever heard. The entire point in the animated show was that she didn't get to make her own choices before this point. She didn't get to choose who to marry, she didn't get to choose her role in society, she didn't get to choose basically anything about her life besides maybe how to style her hair or something. Yue was a character who was extremely dutiful, but also extremely boxed in by her duty. It was both her greatest strength and her greatest weakness, a parody of itself, just as her mere existence was a parody: while she was saved by the moon spirit as a child and allowed to live on, it was that very reason that she eventually gave up her life. And the very fact that she was given these choices in the first place in the LA seriously undermined the idea of her sacrifice. Yue was told her entire life what to do, and although she did manage to find a bit of freedom through her brief romance with Sokka, ultimately, she still didn't get to publicly be with him or reject Hahn or anything similar. Her sacrifice was what she saw as her duty, yes, but her sacrifice for her people was also a way of standing up for herself and finally resolving to make her own choices. In that moment, she not only saved her people, but she finally made a decision for herself instead of doing something someone else told her to, even going against Sokka's wishes to do what she thought was necessary. So in the LA, with her having a place of influence in her community, with her being able to call off her engagement, with her being told that she could one day be chief, to that stupid fucking line implying that she was in no way ever repressed and free to make her own decisions the entire time, removing all of her character growth and any character significance to her actions, it was all basically pointless. It made Yue into a plot device for Sokka to bond with and to move the Aang-and-Kuruk plotline forward. In the animated series, Yue was not a plot device, and she was extremely well written, whereas in NATLA, her character fell completely flat. She talks about responsibility and pressure in her first scene with Sokka, but other than that, she has no depth. In other words, she has no depth besides her relationship to him.

Anyway, I hope we can all agree that her characterization and a lot of the decisions made in the last two episodes of NATLA were nothing but a pile of bulshit. From Iroh killing Zhao to Yukka having zero chemistry to Katara just magically becoming a master to Zuko being shelved to the plotline about Aang not feeling like he belonged having absolutely no buildup beyond a throwaway line in the second episode to everything about Yue I spelled out above, I would go as far to call it just plain bad. Again, I'm glad it got renewed, and I'll be the first to say a lot of other episodes get unnecessary hate, as well as that we are working with slightly different characters (especially Azula) in this version than the first, but I was really disappointed with seeing Yue in LA for a second time.

[strljaem]

“IT’S RAINING HEAVILY OUTSIDE.”

💿 : a summer place, hollywood strings orchestra.

The night was already unsettling, with the rain pouring down in torrents and thunder booming overhead. I sat on my couch, trying to immerse myself in my favorite show, "Gilmore Girls," but every flash of lightning made me jump, my fear of thunder making it hard to stay calm. I munched on my popcorn, using it as a distraction from the storm outside. It was a bearable fear, one I could manage, but the persistent flashes and crashes kept me on edge.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, cutting through the noise of the storm and the television. I froze, popcorn halfway to my mouth, wondering who could possibly be visiting at this hour. It was only 6 PM, but the darkness outside made it feel much later. Putting the popcorn down, I slipped on my house bunny slippers and rushed to the window beside the door. Peeking out, I saw my boy best friend, Jaemin, standing there, completely drenched from the rain, his school backpack still on his shoulders.

(please play the music at this part lol trust me no regrets)

I gasped and hurried to open the door. As I did, everything seemed to slow down. The sight of him standing there, hair plastered to his forehead, his dark green jacket soaked through, made my heart skip a beat. He looked at me with an expression that was hard to read, and for a moment, it felt like the raindrops were suspended in midair. Time stopped, and it was just the two of us in that moment. My brain struggled to process what I was feeling, a strange mixture of surprise and something else I couldn't quite identify.

"I'm sorry, can I come in for a while?" Jaemin asked, his voice hesitant, snapping me out of my trance.

"Of course, come in," I said quickly, stepping aside to let him in. He walked past me, leaving a trail of water droplets on the floor. I shut the door behind him, my eyes following his every move. I had never felt this way about him before. Jaemin had always been my best friend since we were children, but tonight, something felt different. He tried to dry himself off, looking a bit embarrassed about the mess he was making.

"I was on my way home from the library, working on assignments," he explained, shaking water from his hair. "The rain started pouring suddenly, and I forgot my umbrella. I could barely see the road, so I decided to stop by here until it stops."

I nodded, still somewhat in a daze. "You should take a shower and change into some dry clothes. You might catch a cold otherwise."

He chuckled softly, scratching the back of his head. "Really? Thanks. I guess I'll need to borrow some clothes then."

I paused, my inner voice screaming. He had never worn my clothes before, despite how close we were. "Yeah, come on," I said, scoffing to cover my nerves, and pulled his hand to lead him to my bedroom. I showed him the bathroom and handed him a towel, then rummaged through my drawers for a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants.

"Oh wait," I said, suddenly remembering. "What about your-?" I trailed off, blushing furiously as my eyes darted downward.

Jaemin followed my gaze and burst out laughing. "It's fine, I'm a man!" he declared, flexing his biceps in a playful manner.

My face turned even redder. "Okay, okay! Now go and take a shower before you get a cold!" I pushed him into the bathroom and shut the door, my heart pounding. I was grateful my room was clean, or my mom would have killed me. My parents were out of the country on business, leaving me to take care of the house.

I headed back to the living room, slapping my cheeks to snap myself out of my flustered state. "Pull yourself together," I whispered to myself. I resumed watching TV, trying to focus on the show, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Jaemin.

A few minutes later, I heard my bedroom door open upstairs. I tried to ignore it, pulling out my phone to text a friend instead. But then I heard footsteps approaching, and before I knew it, a hand reached over and grabbed some of my popcorn. I jumped, startled, and Jaemin laughed.

"I thought you could give me some," he said, plopping down beside me on the couch. He looked... gorgeous, even in my oversized shirt and sweatpants. His brown hair was fluffed up from the towel, giving him a cute, boyish look.

"Be grateful, or I'd have left you out in the rain to catch a cold," I retorted, rolling my eyes.

Jaemin winced, pouting as he nudged my elbow. He was unusually quiet, which was unlike him. Normally, he'd be teasing me, taking ugly selfies on my phone, or causing some other mischief. Maybe he was just tired, I thought. We watched TV together in a comfortable silence, sharing the popcorn.

Suddenly, a loud clap of thunder shook the house, and the lights went out. I screamed, the popcorn scattering all over the floor. In my panic, I ended up clutching onto Jaemin, burying my face in his neck. His scent, a mix of my body wash and something uniquely him, was surprisingly comforting. I hugged him tightly, my arms around his neck, my legs tucked between his thighs.

"It's okay, it's okay," Jaemin murmured, his hand gently patting my back and caressing the back of my head. His touch was soothing, and slowly, my fear began to subside. I couldn't believe how different he seemed in this moment. Usually, he'd be teasing or playfully annoying me, but now he was being so tender and caring. It felt like a side of him I had never seen before, a romantic side.

As the lights flickered back on, I slowly pulled away, realizing with a jolt that I was practically on top of him. His arms were still around my waist, his hands resting on my shoulders. I looked up at him, our faces inches apart. His eyes were soft and warm, his smile gentle. My cheeks burned with embarrassment at my boldness, but Jaemin didn't seem to mind.

"Like what you're looking at?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

I pushed myself off of him, stumbling and falling off the couch. Jaemin reached out, concerned. "Hey, relax! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, trying to sound nonchalant as I picked myself up. I couldn't meet his eyes, too flustered by the whole situation.

"Are you shy?" he asked, his tone playful.

Gritting my teeth, I smacked his arm. "Shut up," I muttered, embarrassed.

He winced in mock pain, rubbing his arm. "Ouch."

Looking around, I saw the popcorn scattered all over the floor. I started picking it up, and Jaemin joined in, helping me gather the pieces. "Thanks," I said softly, smiling at him.

"No problem," he replied, his voice cool and calm. "But you should probably throw this away. It’s been on the floor for more than three seconds since you were chilling on top of me just now."

"You better shut up, otherwise i’ll drag you outside in the rain.” I yelled at him as Jaemin playfully ran away from me while laughing and still making fun of me.

[charmtale]

people give the 90s anime starlights a lot of shit and frankly it's not my favorite incarnation of the trio either despite everything i'm about to say. BUT imagine everyone on your entire planet was killed (+your job is to keep them alive, so you're a complete failure) and your princess (your job is especially to keep her alive) ran away and you have to chase her to some random other planet where you think she maybe is and in order to get her attention you become a ✨Pop Sensation✨ (it's a suboptimal plan yes. let's not even start) but while you're doing this the minions of the woman who razed your whole planet show up here too and you end up having to still be a senshi on the side. so like when do you even sleep between adapting to an alien world and saving the solar system senshi and giving concerts and going to highschool and dealing with fans and appearing on seemingly every single televised event in tokyo? (you know, in case kakyuu genuinely missed nagareboshi e constantly playing on every single radio station all this time but she'll be attending that random ass game competition happening in episode 191)

you're exhausted. you're doing this for months feeling like you're getting nowhere. but one day it finally turns out your princess is alive! she decides to show herself not because of you three but because sailor moon is in danger. i know sailor moon is the most important princess ever so kakyuu did need to save her but god that's gotta sting And she literally even says 'Yeah i was watching you all along but i didn't say anything lol sorry'. ????? i don't care about her 'i had a Mission + i was hiding from galaxia' excuse because if anything the starlights with their highly distinctive appearance constantly screaming !!!HEY SPACE PRINCESS! COME HERE!!! onstage would attract galaxia's attention the most. just leave a note in their room in kinmokuese that says "hey i'm alive but choosing to hide so please stop shouting about me at maximum volume in front of millions"... regardless then she fuckin dies like two days later (to protect YOU) so she was actually completely right not to trust you with her safety

oh also 66% chance you're annoyed because your leader will not stop flirting with sailor moon no matter how much you remind her you guys have things to do + her actions are pushing the outer senshi to be even more antagonizing towards your group

and 33% chance you're annoyed because your two teammates don't want you to interact with sailor moon even though she's one of very few sources of positive feelings/comfort you have amidst all this and you're very concerned for her well being. either way you have some tension even within your group of 3

I just think if I were in such a situation I would be somewhat out of character myself. and yeah probably more withdrawn and asshole-y than usual... perhaps i would even make less logical decisions than usual - and certainly once my princess died in front of me after 2 episodes of existing, in one of which she confirmed that she had continually chosen not to give me any sign of life at all, i would also not care about the solar system senshi and immediately run into galaxia's living room to get murdered (WHICH THEY ALSO COULDN'T EVEN DO RIGHT AND THEN THEY HAVE TO SPEND THE LAST 5 EPISODES GETTING THE SHIT BEAT OUT OF THEM WHILE ONCE AGAIN WATCHING EVERYONE DIE AROUND THEM)

look at her??????!?!?!?! :(????

[sir-subpar]

Alastor rant

Clearly I'm still working out the concepts, but I feel like I'm getting close and I wanted to talk about my ideas.

So, Alastor, the overlord, the sinner, the cannibal, the mysterious-

Okay, I'm messing around. Alastor does not live up to the description.

Alastor has Irked me for a while. I know all of the characters have, but Alastor in particular feels like one of the most disappointing, world breaking nothing of a character.

He's not scary, he doesn't look like a deer, his suit makes no sense, his motives don't make any sense.

He hates television yet the first thing we hear from him in the show is a TV ad. For some reason he's "really powerful" (for no reason), yet does next to nothing in the fight against Adam and is basically useless.

The only reason there's a manipulation works on Charlie is because she's written to be completely brainless. At least the pilot Charlie knew he was untrustworthy but was just trying to stick with her principles. Charlie in the show is a brainless mouth.

Alastor's rivalry with Lucifer is random, unexplained, and pointless.

I have a lot of issues with this "deer"

If only angel weapons can kill sinners, how come he does it all the time no problem? If he's ranked below Charlie why is she scared of him? If he doesn't believe in this hotel and does nothing to gain from it personally, why is he there? He doesn't even seem that happy to be there most of the time. Sure he smiles, but he always does that.

Why is he here?

What does he do? How does he help? How does he not help? Is he there to help? Is he there for entertainment like it was in the pilot? Does he like being there? Does he not like being there? Does he want to see the project fail or succeed? Does he care? Does he not care?

He is just.. there. He says some vague things that should be red flags, then does nothing.

(Maybe Charlie can't see the red flags because they blend in with every other red thing in the environment)

Also, I hate the fact that he's apparently asexual because he "can't find it in himsepf to care for others"

As an asexual person, I hate that so much. He doesn't need to have a reason to be asexual. He can just BE asexual. (Also being asexual does not mean that you don't care about people! It's just a way to describe a lack of sexual attraction and the different levels it's experienced.)

Also, for the longest time I had no idea Alastor was apparently mixed race. Apparently he is black or something? I honestly can't tell.

A lot of other people have discussed that though, and they would probably know more than I would as a white guy myself, so I reccomend seeing what POC have to say about it because they probably have more valuable things to share. Obviously, Racism is awful.

And it really doesn't help that one of the only characters in this show that's supposed to be a person of color, is a heartless, selfish, pompous cannibal.

If any person of color has something they would like to share, feel free to comment on this post, I want to hear a variety of opinions.

I have so many issues with this character, that redesigning him isn't enough for me. I want to completely reimagine him.

I will post that soon, I just wanted to let some of my frustrations out beforehand so I didn't make that post besides one novel. It will probably still be long, but hopefully this will shorten it a little bit.

[agathasstrap]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 welcome mi amor!

𝜗𝜚ྀི — WRITING REQUESTS ARE NOW OPEN

𝜗𝜚ྀི — requests are open for memes & reactions / pfps & icons

about me: my name is callie, and i'm from peru! I spend a lot of time working and studying towards my dream of being a pilot. i want to travel the world, and i'm very very invested in learning the cultures/customs of different people. for much of my life i've found film as a way to escape the things around me that were difficult or hard, and it was always a way to immerse myself into a new world that was more positive and exciting. i can play the guitar and the drums, i can draw really well, i love sushi, and i love to read. i go for runs a lot, usually a mile or two a day, and my favorite sweet treat is peruvian chocolate. films and tv are a big part of my life, and i'm super excited to be able to share this love with so many people across this platform. i'm pretty new to tumblr, and even though i speak english fluently it is not my first language, so please be forgiving!

my interests/fandoms: as i said, i really like television, so here are a few of my favorite things; killing eve, agatha all along, grey's anatomy, supernatural, loki, stranger things, loving annabelle, the sex lives of college girls, hunger games trilogy, yellowjackets, wandavision, legion, parks & recreation, the witcher, grand army, harry potter, all of tim burton's movies, yellowstone, sweeny todd (specifically the demon barber of fleet street), oceans 8, carol, cruella, law and order svu, orange is the new black, derry girls, how to get away with murder, wednesday, n.c.i.s., bridgerton, elite, and criminal minds!

𝜗𝜚ྀི — tags to look for from now on include ;;

# strap&yap – for any rants or blurbs!

# calliereplies – replies to asks/reqs!

# witchcons – for all icons/pfps!

# calliewriteswitches – writing & fanfics!

# reactsbycallie – any memes & reactions!

[calliesmemes]

RANDOM DIALOGUE PROMPTS, ACT II

ASSORTED QUOTES FOUND IN FILMS, TELEVISIONS, MUSIC, AND LITERATURE.

CHANGE gendered words as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   A great force is asleep in you. ”

“   All I ever think about is you. ”

“   All I ever wanted was to know what to do. ”

“   Am I a good man? ”

“   Are you going to kill me? ”

“   Becoming the villain isn’t the answer. ”

“   Can you prove it to me? ”

“   Did you really think that I would ever let you go? ”

“   Do you regret taking the vow? ”

“   It was like a switch was flipped. ”

“   Fear cuts deeper than swords ”

“   Forgiveness is different from absolution. ”

“   Have I explained away any part of my guilt? ”

“   Help me. Remind me why I am here. ”

“   How many have died because of my actions? ”

“   How often will you repent? ”

“   How strange this is! What is the meaning of it? ”

“   I appreciate your concern. ”

“   I am beyond repentance. ”

“   I am destroying myself so other people can’t. ”

“   I am doing no injury to anybody but myself. ”

“   I am nothing if not merciful. ”

“   I am so glad to see you! ”

“   I believe you are perfectly right. ”

“   I can’t help but give in. ”

“   I cannot agree with you there. ”

“   I doubt I will be pleasant company. ”

“   I doubt everything, even my doubt. ”

“   I feel as though I have been living a long, long time. ”

“   I fought so hard to free you… ”

“   I have betrayed everyone and everything I know. ”

“   I have survived, but I have not been spared. ”

“   I have this grief and I don’t know why. ”

“   I will do whatever you ask. ”

“   I will not be a caged bird. I will fly free. ”

“   I played my part in the plan. ”

“   I pledge myself to your teachings. ”

“   I’m like a collection of paradoxes. ”

“   I’m sorry you were not truly loved and that it made you cruel. ”

“   I’m not too gone to be healed, am I? ”

“   I'm not everything I want to be, but I'm more than I was, and I'm still learning. ”

“   I’m restless and harsh and hopeless. ”

“   I’ll do all that I can to make things right. ”

“   If I cannot be loved, I must be feared. ”

“   Is everyone in danger as long as I’m alive? ”

“   Is this fair? Is this just? ”

“   Is this what you wanted? ”

“   It ends as it began. ”

“   It would be impossible, I know. ”

“   It’s not my fault — I’m not to blame! ”

“   It’s been a long time since I’ve been me. ”

“   I’ve started this storm; gotta stop it somehow ”

“   Money can only give happiness where there is nothing else to give it. ”

“   My intentions were not always wrong. ”

“   None of this is your fault. It’s me and my head. ”

“   No harm will come to you! ”

“   Life is full of tough choices. ”

“   Please remove your blade from my throat. ”

“   Pity comes too late! ”

“   Save me from these evil deeds. ”

“   Sorry is not enough. Sometimes you actually have to change. ”

“   That behavior is quite inexcusable. ”

“   The end justifies the means. ”

“   The path of hate is a dangerous track. ”

���   This can only end one way. ”

“   This is why you never should’ve left. ”

“   There’s a revolution coming. ”

“   There’s trouble for all when there’s trouble for one. ”

“   They are not to be trusted. ”

“   What do you mean? ”

“   What is this fighting all about? ”

“   Where were you when I was still kind? ”

“   Why are they all trying to make me into a saint? ”

“   Why can’t you see me? ”

“   Would you like to punish those who wronged you? ”

“   You can’t trust a single thing I say. ”

“   You can’t run from this! ”

“   You changed me. You should remember me. ”

“   You did not mean to be cruel. That does not mean that you were kind. ”

“   You don’t have to make a sound. ”

“   You have been loyal to a greater cause. ”

“   You know what’s best for me. ”

“   You were born for this. ”

“   You’ll always be a slave. ”

“   Your offer is meaningless. ”

“   You’re the one that I need. ”

“   You’re not as brave as you may seem. ”

“   You’ve gone too far! ”