#imagine saying this... it's truly horrific

[jonpertwee]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Frank Waln (@frankwaln)

Lakota rapper Frank Waln took a trip to Palestine, where he was shocked at the similarities between reservations in the US and the refugee camps in Palestine. Many Natives making the journey say the same thing. To say that zionism is land back is not only a bastardization of colonialist history, but a slap in the face to Native American people.

It's finals week so I don't have time for a long post (I have many ideas for after finals)

Anyways

Zionism is "land back".

That is all for now, thanks for hearing me out.

[mariocki]

RIP Timothy West (20.10.1934 - 12.11.2024)

"We met when we were cast with small parts in that really boring play, so had both brought the crossword to stop us going mad. We saw each other across the rehearsal room doing it, so decided to sit together. Then we couldn’t record because of the strike one day so we went to the cinema, Pru and I, to see The Grass is Greener with Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr. The show was cancelled, but a bit later Pru sent me a card saying ‘they’re reviving that terrible play, are you in it?’ I wasn’t but we started writing to each other then."

"Humour is vital, and respect for what people do and what people think. Kindness is important, and we’ve always had the same humour, laughed at the same things, been interested in the same things, got cross about the same things. And been in the same business. We have often been away from each other work-wise and therefore we’re always very glad to see each other again."

[hanniedream]

defending seungkwan online isn't enough anymore, i need a gun

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ gods and monsters ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x wife!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

˚ ༘♡ you cherished your husband, your family, and the life you had created together. hwang in-ho was a man of contradictions, capable of immense love and devotion. he treated you with such care, as though you were the most precious thing in his world. his adoration was tangible in every gesture, every lingering glance. yet beneath that tenderness was a darkness you struggled to reconcile. this same man, who held your hand with precious affection, was also the masked overseer of the squid game, a series of merciless challenges where the desperate competed, often at the cost of their lives, for a staggering cash prize.

˚ ༘♡ you could never truly fathom it. the man who pressed sweet kisses to your forehead at night was the same monster who orchestrated a spectacle of death and suffering. he claimed no pleasure in it, but the mere fact of his involvement unsettled you. the gleaming black mask, the command he held over every horrific detail, it was a world so far removed from the comfort of your home, yet it belonged to him all the same.

˚ ༘♡ only once had he asked if you wished to attend, to see what he called “his other life.” the question had terrified you to your core, your lips parting in silent dismay. you hadn’t needed to answer. the way your expression shifted, the way fright and disapproval glared across your pallid face, was enough. he never brought it up again, never risked shattering the fragile balance he had created between his two identities.

˚ ༘♡ you were a mother to a healthy three-year-old son, who filled your days with laughter and energy, and you were carrying another child, though you had yet to tell your husband. the news remained a quiet secret, one you turned over in your mind during the solitude of the evening. it wasn’t fear of his reaction that kept you silent. hwang in-ho adored his family, there was no question of that, but the thought of bringing another life into the shadow of the games unsettled you.

˚ ༘♡ you tried to focus on being the woman you wanted to be, a loving mother, a supportive partner. in many ways, you succeeded. you tucked your son in every night with whispered stories and soft lullabies, kept your home warm and welcoming, and met your husband’s gaze with as much love as you could muster, even when doubts crept into the corners of your mind.

˚ ༘♡ when your worries became too much to bear, he would sense it, always. he would take your hands in his, his voice calm, his tone measured. “think of me as two men,” he would say, his words a plea for understanding. “there is hwang in-ho, your husband, your partner, the father of our children. and then there is the front man, a role i play, a mask i wear.”

˚ ༘♡ you wanted to believe him, to hold on to the idea that the man who kissed you tenderly each morning could be separate from the one who orchestrated so much pain. but no matter how you tried to comprehend it, there were nights when the thought of who he was beyond your shared walls kept you awake, your heart aching with questions you couldn’t bring yourself to ask.

˚ ༘♡ you tried with all your might to separate the two sides of the man you loved, the front man and your husband, hwang in-ho. but when he told you he wouldn’t be able to contact you during this year’s games, the delicate balance you had worked so hard to maintain crumbled. the weight of his words refused to settle, tearing at you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to simply let it go.

˚ ༘♡ “every year, you’ve managed to visit after the game for the day. what’s different this time?” you asked, your voice trembling with desperation.

˚ ༘♡ at first, he deflected, his tone dismissive as if your concerns were unwarranted. but as your worry grew, it became impossible for him to ignore. the strain in your expression, the way your voice cracked when you spoke, it was enough to wear him down. even your son had begun to notice, his small hands tugging at your sleeve, his innocent eyes filled with confusion at the tension that filled the air.

˚ ༘♡ with a frustrated sigh, in-ho finally relented. his hand enveloped yours, warm and steady against your trembling fingers. “i will be there this year,” he admitted, his voice hushed and measured. “as a player.”

˚ ༘♡ the words sent a chill through you, and your breath caught in your throat. “what? why?” you asked, your disbelief slicing through the tension.

˚ ༘♡ his gaze locked onto yours. “there is someone returning to the games this year,” he began, his tone careful. “a former player, a winner in fact. he’s likely to cause complications, and… i can’t deny the intrigue of watching him. this year will be different. i’ve decided to stay close by instead of observing from a distance.”

˚ ༘♡ fury and agony surged within you, and your hands shook as you lightly struck his chest, the beating driven by hysteria. “you idiot!” you yelled. “you can’t guarantee you’ll be safe! have you even thought about your family? what about our son?”

˚ ༘♡ he caught your wrist gently, his grip cautious, his face softening as he pulled you closer. “i will not be in danger,” he said, his voice calm but insistent. “i promise you that.”

˚ ༘♡ still, his assurance wasn’t enough. it didn’t stop the knot in your stomach from tightening or the ache in your chest from growing far more intense. the words you spoke next tumbled out before you had a chance to think them through. “if that’s true, then you won’t have any problem with me coming along!”

˚ ༘♡ the declaration hung in the air, sharp and sudden. even you were startled by it, your heart pounding in your chest as the misery of your demand settled between you. fear and anger had driven you to say it, but now it was too late to take it back. you searched his face for a reaction, your pulse racing.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t speak such nonsense again," he said firmly, his tone cutting through the tension in the room. "you have our son to think about. i am going, and i’ll return in a week. this is final."

˚ ༘♡ “no!” you shot back, the tremor in your voice betraying your growing panic. “if you’re going, then i’m coming with you. you told me it’s safe.” your eyes darted toward your son, who had long fallen asleep, blissfully unaware of the battle unfolding. a wave of guilt swept over you, tightening your throat. “he can stay with the household staff for a week. do you think i could take care of him properly while i’m sick with worry about you?”

˚ ༘♡ his brow furrowed, the sharp lines of irritation creasing his weary face. “you’re being unreasonable,” he said, his voice hard, though it faltered slightly as he began pacing the room. each step was measured, purposeful, as though he were trying to walk away from the argument itself. “this is dangerous enough without you there complicating things.”

˚ ༘♡ “and you’re being infuriating,” you countered, your tone rising as desperation overtook your earlier composure. “do you think I’d forgive myself if something happened to you while i stayed here and did nothing? you’re asking too much of me.” your voice cracked, the weight of your despair spilling into the room.

˚ ༘♡ the argument carried on into the late hour, a nightmare of clashing scorn and unresolved fears. he tried to dismiss you, to shut you down with reason, but you refused to back down. your agony, raw and untamed, eventually drove you to the brink. “if you go without me, i’ll leave,” you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “i’ll take our son, and i’ll leave.”

˚ ༘♡ the silence that followed was deafening. he froze, his gaze snapping to yours, searching your face for the truth. you hated the lie, the hollowness of your own threat, but it was all you had left. leaving him wasn’t something you could ever do, but the thought of him walking into danger alone was unbearable.

˚ ༘♡ he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging under the burden of his dilemma. “fine,” he said at last, his voice clipped and low. “if you’re coming, then there are conditions… rules that have to be carefully followed.”

˚ ༘♡ your relief was immediate but short-lived as his words settled over you like a heavy cloak. “what conditions?” you asked, your voice softer now, cautious.

˚ ༘♡ “we’ll need to use false identities," he explained, his tone deliberate, each word chosen with care. "to everyone involved, we’re strangers. no one can know who we are, not even that we’re connected."

˚ ༘♡ the practicality of his demand sent a shiver down your spine, even as you nodded in agreement. the idea of pretending he was nothing more than a stranger felt unnatural, wrong, but you couldn’t argue. “i understand,” you murmured, though the knot in your stomach tightened with every passing second.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you as though considering whether you truly grasped what you were stepping into. when he finally looked away, you felt no sense of victory, only the forthcoming horror of what lay ahead.

˚ ༘♡ the games were set to begin in exactly one week, and each passing day left you feeling more unsettled. every time your husband pulled you into his arms, the unease lingered beneath the surface, making it difficult to fully surrender to his warmth. though you tried to find comfort in his presence, the thought of what lay ahead clouded every shared moment.

˚ ༘♡ you had entrusted your son to the most reliable and loyal members of the household staff, ensuring that he would be cared for in your absence. you also took great care to conceal any sign of your pregnancy. if in-ho discovered the truth, he would never allow you to join him, and staying behind was not an option you could accept.

˚ ༘♡ he had laid out the plan with meticulous precision. the two of you would arrive after the chaos of the first game, red light, green light. as he explained it, a large portion of the participants would undoubtedly be eliminated once they grasped the deadly reality of the games. the aftermath of that horror would provide cover for your entrance, allowing you to integrate without raising suspicion.

˚ ༘♡ your husband would take on the identity of player 001, an unassuming participant with no visible ties to you. your alias would be player 077, your stories carefully crafted to fit the narrative. his fabricated reason for joining the games was both haunting and ironic, he claimed he needed money for his pregnant wife. when he first told you this, a wave of panic washed over you, thinking he might have discovered your secret. but as you studied his expression, his calm demeanor revealed no hint of realization.

˚ ༘♡ for your feigned story, he decided you would play the role of a young woman drowning in debt, struggling to pay off the burdens left behind by your late father. the lie felt strangely fitting, yet it unsettled you all the same. every detail he crafted for your cover seemed so calculated, so detached, it was as though he had rehearsed this for far longer than he let on. this game of life and death was nothing more than a facade for him.

˚ ༘♡ you nodded along as he explained the plan, his voice unwavering. though the words were spoken with care, they failed to soothe the growing tension within you. each step of the plan felt cold, clinical, designed to strip away any sense of the life you shared outside these games. with every passing day, the distance between hwang in-ho, your husband, and the front man became more glaring, and you wondered if you could truly separate the two when it mattered most.

˚ ༘♡ you knelt by your son’s bedside, planting a soft kiss against his forehead. his small hand clung to your finger, and for a vanishing moment, you felt the crushing weight of guilt threaten to undo you. you whispered promises you weren’t sure you could keep, telling him you would be back soon, that everything would be fine. as his breathing slowed in sleep, you lingered a minute longer, memorizing the curve of his face and the delicate skin of his tiny hand before slipping away with your husband.

˚ ༘♡ the player uniforms were a tight, oppressive reminder of the role you had agreed to take on. the white and forest-green fabric felt rough against your skin, the stitched numbers, 001 on him, 077 on you, marking you both as part of this wicked charade. the air between you was dense with unspoken tension as you followed his lead into the heart of the games.

˚ ༘♡ the aftermath of the first game hit you like a physical blow. scarlet-red blood smeared the walls, the metallic stench thick enough to taste. lifeless bodies were being dragged away by masked figures, their uniforms pristine against the carnage. your stomach churned violently, and you had to bite down hard to keep from retching. your husband walked ahead, his pace measured, his face a mask of icy detachment.

˚ ༘♡ yet, even as he feigned indifference, you noticed the subtle tension p his clenched fists and the hard line of his jaw. no matter how disciplined and resolute he was, pretending you were a stranger clearly cost him some of his will power.

˚ ༘♡ you entered the massive dormitory, a cavernous space where the remaining players huddled in groups, their expressions etched with terror and disbelief. the room was alive with murmurs, frantic whispers of confusion and distress as they tried to process what had happened. the realization of the deadly nature of the games hung over the crowd, suffocating and inescapable.

˚ ༘♡ abruptly, a piercing voice broke through the calamity, commanding and filled with urgency. all eyes turned to player 456, a man whose presence seemed to dominate the room. his words were bold, calling for a vote in accordance with the consent clause, a chance for the players to decide whether they would continue or abandon the games. the idea rippled through the crowd, igniting faint glimmers of hope in some and deepening the despair in others.

˚ ༘♡ your husband moved slightly, a subtle shift in his stance catching your attention. his gaze flicked toward you, so brief it was almost imperceptible. then, with deliberate movements, he traced a small circle on the back of his hand, an action so precise it disturbed you. he turned away before you could react, his focus now on the masked enforcers who were setting up the voting station.

˚ ༘♡ it took you a moment to understand the message. he wanted you to vote in favor of continuing the games. the realization landed suddenly. you clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms as you tried to steady yourself. the thought of condemning the remaining players to more death and suffering was unbearable, but you understood what his silent gesture meant. if the games ended now, everything he had planned, every risk he had taken, would amount to nothing.

˚ ༘♡ the apprehension caused your chest to tighten further as the masked figures prepared the voting station, their movements mechanical and precise. the voices of the players rose, some pleading for an end, others arguing to stay. you felt your pulse quicken, the enormity of what you were about to do pressing down on you as you prepared to cast a vote that would decide not only the fate of the players but the course of your husband’s dangerous mission.

a/n: the winner of the fanfiction vote, but i will definitely be writing for cho sang-woo as well! i hope you all enjoy reading! let me know if you have anymore requests! 🤍

[vaguely-concerned]

can you even imagine what a fucking horror show the early game is from spite's perspective, though. not only is this funky forcibly severed little slip of the fade having to deal with the reverse cosmic horror of physical reality as perceived by a spirit and being trapped in it against its will -- existentially confused and disoriented and hurting and nothing makes any kind of sense, at the mercy of human cruelty at its most deliberately sadistic. and then the one source of comfort and compassion and some kind of safety and clarity that lucanis surely must have been to him in the ossuary despite everything just goes and shuts himself in his room inside with a seemingly passive aggressive number of locks between them and no explanation and won't speak to him and they're STILL in the fucking ossuary. rook came and found them and they could be free now (rook is here!) and still lucanis keeps them in the ossuary even though he PROMISED he promised they'd get out of there together!!! what the fuck DO you think at that point? like did he trick me that whole time??? he wasn't like zara before, so why is he doing this to me now? why isn't he saying anything? 'he won't move. I can't reach him'. at least in the ossuary they had a deal, a goal, a hope -- each other. at least he wasn't entirely alone, before.

this poor poor poor little spite spirit really was ferried into the real world like 'hey welcome to reality! as your first introduction to it you're first getting horrifically tortured and then getting to vicariously experience one of THE most distressing and harrowing psychological conditions the human brain can cook up for itself (a fully fledged and deeply entrenched freeze response flaring up with catastrophic severity due to an unbroken ongoing and unlikely to let up any time soon chain of Unfortunately... Recent Events). I think spite is being extremely reasonable and patient about the whole thing, when you put it into perspective. I'm not saying let him eat the self-lighting candles or anything, but he's got some extremely valid points along the way lol. spite is not only child-like, the metaphor work going on is a lot more pleasingly flexible and complex than that, but he is also helplessly existentially dependent on lucanis in a way that, if anything, is a heightened version of the way a child (or child part) has to depend on a parent to navigate the world and survive.

tl;dr: we truly don't give enough sympathy to spite for having to live in the head of lucanis dellamorte. a place even lucanis dellamorte would prefer not to be. to be fair to him I think lucanis would be the first person to agree with this lol

[zillychu]

Trigun fucking destroys me, okay.

It's about persisting through the most horrific obstacles imaginable, and never losing hope for yourself and others. It's about the fruit your efforts bear, but it doesn't ignore the ugliness of the suffering you endure. It doesn't sweep it under the rug to give you a happy ending.

As a jaded millennial, I get a bit tired of stories where everything turns out fine because the heroes tried hard. Most stories gloss over the repercussions of failure. They tell us it's all simply a means to an end, and that end is what matters. Overcoming your obstacle matters. Winning matters.

Trigun doesn't do this.

Vash gets hurt (gross understatement). He's ostracized, bullied, threatened, haunted, forced to see the darkest underbelly of humanity. He's subjected to the worst parts of life that are grotesquely ruthless, unforgiving, hopeless. He's forced to reconcile a lot of his goals (like never killing anyone), but not the core of his beliefs.

Not once does he falter in his trust that people are capable of good, that we all deserve that chance to be. He never has a revelation that shakes his faith in humanity, despite constantly being given every reason to. He's the irritatingly optimistic anime protagonist who looks at impossible odds and says "everything will be alright", the way no one can in real life because it never works out that way for us.

And it doesn't for him, either.

Vash does his best, believes in himself, and fails. over and over and over again. He loses everything--loved ones, memories, autonomy. He loses constantly. He's your unrealistically positive hero, being dealt realistically unfavorable hands.

And still, he persists. He never truly wins. Because we never truly win. Life has no happy ending like a story does.

He never truly wins, and yet, he can still find happiness. He meets friends, enjoys good food, watches people love fiercely in both blessing and hardship. He hits unbelievable lows that don't keep him from finding highs. Because he never stops trying to be the best of what he sees in humanity. Because every little bit counts. He never stops believing in humans--believing in you.

Trigun grabs you by the face and stares directly at you. It says "I see you, I see your pain, how much you struggle. I see how sometimes no matter how hard you try, things don't work out. Life isn't a fairy tale. I see how your kindness can come back to hurt you, hurt others. I see you, and I'm proud of you. Life is worth living with love in your heart not because we win, but because we try. We all try. Never stop trying to be kind."

Trigun shows you the cruel reality of life, and leaves you feeling good about it.

I don't know a single piece of media that's able to do that.

[pigeonpeach]

Father’s weakness

Aka another mom figure x arlecchino!

Warnings: blood, injury to reader, stitches,

A/n: part of this was written before her story quest, but i wanted to get something out after weeks of nothing. Tryna feed my arlecchino fans out there

You hadn’t ever fought in your life. You were not a fighter by any means. But when one of the city mechas malfunctioned and started to target the very child you were with, something in you snapped. Before you could think you were struggling against a metallic arm, blood dripping from your hands as you had stopped the blad with your palm. In that instance all pain was numb, your body didn’t exist but your determination to protect the very helpless and small child did, it overrides your weakness as you had successfully stopped it. The child in question immediately screaming for help.

“I don’t want to leave you! No I won’t leave you again mommy!” She cried, her mother had been murdered, that’s why she was a orphan, you could only imagine how horrific it was for her.

“Celia you have to run! I’ll be fine!” You said, lying through your damn teeth. The machine tried to overpower you, your body was pushed back as you tried to wrestle the sword from its hand.

Finally the guards, the human ones arrived. A gunshot aired as the mecha turned its attention to far more dangerous agressors and withdrew its sword to fight them instead. Leaving you to fall to the floor, injured and awkwardly comforting Celia as she immediately tried to drag you back to the house of hearth.

“I can’t really say you’re a fool. There wasn’t exactly any better alternative in that situation.” Your coworker said. You winced as she stitched the gash in your hands. There wasn’t much time to get a pain killer so you bore it through your teeth. “But Alrecchino will certainly be unhappy with the guardes. I truly don’t understand why it picked on you.”

“Just.. keep scolding me or something. Its easier to forget the pain.” You whispered. The children were hysterical outside. You, the favorite caretaker, had been greatly injured. Of course they were upset, these are orphans. You could hear the older agents trying to soothe the younglings outside.

“Arlecchino won’t be pleased. Lets just hope her anger will be directed towards the engineers.”

“Likely. I didn’t do anything against the code, infact Its well within my job description to protect the children if needed. I may have lied about my capabilities on that though…” you hissed. Now without the adrenaline did everything fucking hurt. The antiseptic in your wounds, the bruises, the needle actively piercing your skin, it fucking hurt. But you had to suck it up, otherwise the children would meltdown into utter chaos believing their mother was dying.

“Surely you know that she.. values you in some way. I was just saying that she may be particularly pissed. You are her favorite.”

“Wait what? I’m the kids favorite, that’s no secret, but hers? Are you sure?” You asked skeptically. Although Clarice had been quite old, having worked for the previous knave and well into her 50s, you didn’t think she had a eye for those details.

“It doesn’t take a expert. But you should be more careful.”

“And what? Let the machines murder the kids I’m designated to protect? No! I did nothing wrong! I don’t care if I destroyed or damaged that machine. I’d sooner punch the Iudex myself then let any of those kids get harmed on my watch.” You said defensively.

“Yes I understand. There. You’re done. Now I’ll wrap it so the kids don’t worry to much. Now please go out there so the kids don’t start mauling each other.” Clarice groaned. You took your hand, it wasn’t pretty, you certainly couldn’t let the kids see that kind of wound when they’re so young.

“Mom! Mom!” The children only became more rowdy when you left through the door.

“Back up now! You’re all going to crush each other!” You said sternly. Only about half seemed to listen, you had to repeat yourself a few times before they relaxed. “I’m okay children. I’m just a little hurt, I’ll live okay?” You flipped your hands around to showcase the bandages, hoping they’d relax. They did but you could still see the worry. Even the older children seemed concerned. “Please return to what you were doing now, all is well. No one is dying or leaving okay?” You said. Slowly they dispersed. If only because their worries had been addressed. But you knew it didn’t fully do so. But at least now you could walk down the halls. You sighed as you walked towards the entrance, seeing a few guards.

“You won’t take our mommy!” One kid said immediately latching onto your leg. You patted his head.

“This isn’t a arrest. In fact we just wanted to get a report from you as to what happened. We understand you left the scene almost Immediately yes?” The officer in question seemed suspicious of you. As if you had something to benefit from the situation. ‘Great he’s going to find anything to twist into suspicion’

“Sir I hope you understand that now is not the the time for interviews. I have just been patched up and I am still on the clock, I have a big responsibility right now. I’ll be happy to come to your olace for a official statement but now is not the time. Now please leave before the children get worried even more so.”

“Ma’am we have to get your point of view to better understand-“

“I was taking one of the children for icecream because she had been very good and it was her birthday. That mecha started randomly attacking people and I jumped in to save her. That is all you are getting at this hour, now please step outside.” You said, you didn’t trust this officer. Just his eyes alone were shifty, plotting, something wasn’t right with him and you weren’t going to risk it,

“Ma-am do not put your hands on me.”

“I am very much not touching you right now. Am i not allowed to exist in the air nearby you? Let me repeat myself, i will go to the palais to give my statement once I’m clocked out. You however need to get out.” Normally you were polite and understanding, the epitome of grace and manners. But you almost died today so you didn’t feel intimidated by the cops ad you had previously been.

“May I at least speak to the child?”

“I will not repeat myself sir, get. Out. We will give our statement later.” You said pointing to the door. He wrote something down which annoyed you greatly.

“Alright, you don’t have to be so rude. I’ll leave. We expect your testimony soon.” He said. You frowned even more so.

“What a bitch.” A child said.

“Do not use that language Belle.” You sighed.

“Arlecchino was supposed to be back by now, but I believe she’s having a strong word with the guards right now.” Lynette explained. From the way her tail swished you could sense she was alarmed. “Many people are afraid of the mechas right now. Apparently they’ve been temporarily recalled. Although the current belief is that one of the wild ones managed to sneak in without suspicion. But its only a theory for now. The important thing is you are safe.” Despite her stoic face you could see both her and Lyney needed reassurance of your wellbeing. Like the many children who were now on edge.

“I am safe. A doctor came by to inspect my injuries and said that I should be fine. I’m likely s little anemic is all. For now I can’t do any heavy lifting or intensive jobs.” You explained. Lyney stiffened.

“That shouldn’t be a issue, Freminet and I would be more than willing to help you with anything.” He offered. You smiled trying to reassure the twins of your health.

“That is sweet but you two have your own lives now. But if you have the time to I wouldn’t complain. Just don’t go against your father’s orders just for me okay. I don’t want anyone getting into trouble.”

“That’s reasonable enough. Will you still be working?” Lynette asked.

“Well like you said, Arlecchino isn’t home yet so I’d have to discuss that with her. But likely yes. I have already used up my sick days for the month.” You smiled.

“No I’m sure she’d let you rest at least!” Lyney said.

“I’m glad you care Lyney but it’s up to your Father to decide. Besides I’m still kicking. I’ll be fine.”

“Father did tell us to accompany you for now. How is Celine right now?”

“She had a panic attack and had to be kicked out of the nursing station. But she’s uninjured and I’ve spent time to calm her down. Unfortunately she didn’t get to finish her icecream.” You joked. They didn’t seem to enjoy your humor.

“We can get her some ourselves. You just relax for now.” He said. You sighed.

“Miss Alrecchino.” You bowed as she entered the room. She however seemed anything but normal. She held your face forcing you to look at her and tilting it, as if checking for any injuries.

“How are you feeling.” Her tone was different. She sounded riled and angry. You dreaded seeing this side of her.

“I’m just a little weak right now. My palms hurt quite badly but I’ll be fine.” You said. She seemed unpleased.

“She didn’t even use painkillers..” she said under her breath. “You should rest. Bandage the wound and check in with the doctor, ill ask the others to lighten your workload for the time being. Be cautious from now on.”

“Y-yes.” You bowed as you quickly exited, unsure if you had heard the entire conversation properly.

And that was it. Arlecchino despite her cold and unfeeling demeanor, everyone else seemed convinced she had a fondness for you. But even if she did you could never see it in her eyes. Her eyes looked somehow dull and sharp, dangerous maybe a better term. Sometimes they soften, the light would reflect in them but her lips hardly ever curved then. It was like she never smiled with her eyes but never smiled when her eyes lit up. But you had a job to do, you had to help the kids, you could ponder arlecchino’s emotions later.

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Stopping by to say how hauntingly beautiful your seraphim Ace and Luffy piece is. The colors and the blankness of their expressions contrasted against an echo of half-forgotten familial intimacy is just absolutely gorgeous. All I can think of tho too is how Sabo would be in this au. If both Luffy and Ace died at Marineford and then subsequently experimented on to become seraphim, I can only imagine just how unhinged Sabo would be both in his grief and then rage upon discovering his brothers 😭

Thank you!! :0 i absolutely love the melancholic feeling those two have in this au. They have nothing but their instincts to guide them beyond what they were programmed to know… But these two are lead by their instincts…

And yeah the prospect of Sabo finding out what happened to Ace and Luffy is truly horrific.

I think it would go something like this or something idk

They make me ill. Makes me think ab something that happened in my life ill explain under keep reading cuz thats a completely different story

@moonelnone look at what your au has done to me. How can i move on. Sorry if this has strayed from the canon you have in your eyes

Thanks for the ask!

About two years ago, a cousin of mine had passed away early in his life. On the one year anniversary of his passing, a bunch of his family and friends had went to an area where he played a lot when he was a little kid. There, they found a little stray cat, about one year old, who wouldnt leave them alone.

They took the kitty in and named it after my cousin and they say he has a very similar personality to his namesake and I tear up everytime think about it.

[crustyfloor]

SUA LORE (I'm going to die one of these days fuck)

When Sua was younger, among all the sisters she had grown up with, she had one older sister, but seemingly, unlike their other sisters, that woman didn't treat Sua with hostility, in fact, she looked like she doted on Sua and looked out for her.

Translation (Creds to: @/greenbean1467 on yt in the comments section):

1/2 ?: You should take care of your hair. (Woah, careful) ?: So immature… 2/2 ?: Alright, it can’t be helped. Sua has to be punished! Tickle tickle! [ At that time, you were my only person, and for that reason, you also made me afraid. ]

"You were my only person, and for that reason, you also made me afraid" Is just...All her life, Sua had been an isolated individual, by choice, and because she had been shunned by her family, avoided due to her cold nature, and during those times she's only had two people to who she could really show herself too, this woman and Mizi, this woman being the only person Sua had in her life I can only imagine how afraid Sua was of losing her sister, and just how much her sister terrified her at times.

1/2 SUA: Mhm, so mother said, it’ll be time to leave after ten more nights. And mother seems happy, and I too… SUA: And that pink-haired kid could be there too, so… ?: Didn’t I tell you it’s uncouth to wiggle your toes like that? 2/2 SUA: Oh… I won’t then. ?: Ugh, so cute! ?: But you know, big sis is worried. ?: Worried that our immature little Sua could just up and die in that hellish place.

This woman and Sua look to be close; they are affectionate, and Sua almost seems to look up to this woman as if a sister figure, but the detail here I'm interested in is how worried this woman is about Sua and her remarks about Sua, she cares about Sua. Still, it shows that she looks down on Sua to some degree, whether this be in a teasing tone or not, I'm unsure. But there's an obvious obsessive fixation on Sua's innocence. And even in this relationship, cruelty was reinforced as a means to an end.

1/2 ?: You’re already so stupid, what if you just up and die in that place? ?: You poor thing, Sua. [They say that corpses fall from the sky in that place. When a weak kid like Sua just up and dies, They burn those kids in a hot, hot fire, And then they open the sky lid to sprinkle them over the living kids Like snow raining down. ] 2/3 ?: Even if it's not, I'm not smart, but I've gone so far ?: Pick--If you die. What should I do? ?: It's so cute Sua.

Growing up under the same guardian, Nigeh, who valued quality and beauty in her pets, it becomes obvious why Sua's sister was criticizing her appearance. She'd grown up hearing the same criticisms from the harsh and cold Nigeh who didn't care for their pets beyond their value, and what all they could bring to the plate, I could imagine just what kinds of things Nigeh would say to a pet human with "abnormalities".

Sua, however, was the perfect pet human, she was pretty, obedient, and acted obediently for Nigeh as a manicured doll to meet their expectations. She was attached to Nigeh like a daughter to a mother, looking to their validation to feel as if she was more valuable than she truly was even though the love wasn't reciprocated. For these reasons, she was treated differently from her other sisters, of course, there would be a level of envy and projection from Sua's sister.

Sua's sister is shown to be anxious about Sua, she seems to have been attached to her in the way a hurt child needs a security blanket to rest at night, Sua is so childish, naive, and stupid, it is reassuring to her sister to have someone to care for, as if there was still hope in this world, so without Sua, her sister's worries wouldn't be soothed, her sister was so scared that she even threatened Sua with fear, expressing how frightening and horrific this environment would be (Like, "Pick, if you die" I read it as "If I lose you, what should I do?)

In this way, Sua seems to parallel mirror woman because Sua had this same dependency on Mizi, again, in the way a hurt, lonely, scared child needs a security blanket to rest at night, Sua wanted Mizi to remain naive and stupid, willingly kept her in the dark so that Sua could feel a sense of peace and security through her, her sister was the same way with Sua, she wanted to keep Sua from the hell she would be subjected to very, very soon, but in the end, telling Sua ugly truths, about the snow, and all, had to have been fueled by bitter feelings, to rid Sua of that type of innocence, could have been any kind of love, perhaps in a twisted way she wanted to protect Sua.

She obviously had to have been mentally unstable (understandably) to say these kinds of things to a child, no less, the way she stares at Sua like she's desperate and broken, really, it's not loving, it's just desperate and cruel. Really, the fact that Alien stage can bring a person to this kind of insanity is a horrifying concept. Still, I believe she was trying to teach a lesson to Sua at this time in her life when she was growing up, making attachments and being susceptible to impressions, it was purposely harsh to frighten her, to project her fears onto Sua, and those words from her sister stuck with Sua for the rest of her life.

From that day on, all Sua could think about was death, all she could do was worry and worry until she met Mizi again.

Meeting Mizi, in all her optimism and bright smiles, was like a healing balm on Sua's wounds, or in other words, her "Cure" .

1/2 SUA: Big sister, your words then made me, as young as I was, all the more afraid. I imagined “just up and dying” so many times, even more than before… 2/2 SUA: But if I meet you again, I want to tell you this. That you were wrong. The one to be pitied was probably you.

1/2 SUA: If this is hell… 2/2 MIZI: Found you! You're that snow doll!

Interestingly enough, Mizi calling Sua a "snow doll" may be a foreshadowing of Sua's death, as now it's semi-confirmed that dead children are cremated and sprinkled down onto the Anakt children's faces, but they only think it's snow. (THAT IS JUST FUCKING SICK. someone kill me)

And a parallel to the MIZISUA video, their first meeting. (The nickname is just--telling of how Sua is perceived, as a little dressed-up doll.)

(And that fact just gives this piece a wholeeee darker meaning. of course. It somewhat disproves the theory that the dead are instead fed to the Wagyein, but I don't know which is worse. Then again Sua's sister could've been going off on a psychotic rant, so I'm not taking it too seriously. It's a weird coincidence though)

1/2 SUA: Where else could you find such a paradise so wonderful? 2/2 SUA: So you're wrong.

(Some nuance may be lost in translation. I died)

So this comic, like Ivan's comic after ROUND 6, Cure, Heavenly Garden, was Sua's reminiscing during her final moments, and her only thoughts were the words of her sister, her face, haunting as it was, and Mizi, her universe.

Sua's sister pitied her for her inevitable fate, she had known the life of being a pet-human, used, abused, and hurt, she feared death and still had her instincts intact. Knowing Sua would go through the same cycle and then meet a terrible fate on that hellish stage...tasted bitter. It was frightening, but it was one small liberty for Sua to make it something of her own.

But for Sua, it was far from hell. Sua's sister references Anakt garden and Alien stage as a whole as hell because it's a one-way ticket to your demise, there is no true life once you're in, that's why it's so frightening, but being found by Mizi in that garden--Mizi was wonderful, Mizi made Sua feel like a child, to feel warm in her bright, gentle light, feeling the tranquility of feeling freed and loved in the comfort of Mizi's gentle song, Sua didn't want to be pitied, she didn't even regret making it this far, she didn't care about death as long as she wasn't without Mizi, Because to be able to be with her, and sing with her...everything was all worth it to meet Mizi. For Sua, there is no fate more miserable than living a life without Mizi and dying that way. Living a life of loneliness and anxiety was pitiful.

Side note, the title of this comic, Heavenly Garden, maybe a religious reference and, more specifically, a reference to the Garden of Eden. The themes here that connect to "Return to the Great Anakt", all children, in ashes and all will eventually return to the great Anakt, it gives me the idea that after Sua's death, her "Heaven", was returning to Anakt Garden and returning to her paradise, Mizi.

[hwaightme]

Lone soul

(masterlist)

🏢pairing: singer!seonghwa x gn!reader 🏢genre: comfort, healing, angst, fluff, sci-fi/spec.fiction, soulmate au 🏢summary: numb to the pleas of those who receive the 'lone soul' verdict, what can happen when a man who lives for love enters your office, and for the first time you are met with eyes that wonder, that care, that feel so familiar, so true? 🏢wordcount: 4.1k total 🏢warnings/tags: unedited, set in another reality (softcore 1984?), discussing romance/love, fictional gov structures, soulmate theory/lone soul theory, partnership, companionship, sweet conversation, romance/romanticism, learning about what makes you who you are, trust, bonding, mutual respect 🏢 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🏢 a/n: crafted after the beautiful ask from @sorryimananti-romantic <3 thank you my love <3 and to all, thank you for reading, any notes/reblogs appreciated!

Early morning - perfect time to check the mail, perfect time to watch the world fall apart. Each letter on the page left a searing sensation, hot iron piercing through the skin and twisting itself again and again, confirming the one thing that the reader feared, in cold formal terminology. There was little left to suggest any alterations, no additional words to imply an uncertainty or the need for a re-testing. Nothing. The letter, along with the rest of the contents of the hefty envelope were clear as the breaking of Park Seonghwa’s heart - he was a Lone Soul.

Rushing back inside, cowering away from the horrifically cheerful chirping of the birds outside, the young man stared at the piece of paper, flipping it again and again in his hands as if the words were going to magically change themselves and reveal a deeper meaning, or express their sincerest apologies for the mistake. He had been so certain in himself, in love, that Seonghwa had never even imagined the possibility of receiving anything from the National Soulmate Register Office aside from a prompt response to his request for a Soulmate Search.

What could this mean for his career? He, a song-writer with more lyrics written about love than he could remember - how would fellow musicians, artists, groups, companies, the public react upon hearing that the creator of their favourite tunes was confirmed to be lacking in a soulmate. How could he craft songs about love when he was not destined for it? When he would never find out the real feeling of meeting and having a soulmate, and watching the stars align? Seonghwa glanced at the awards that decorated the display case in his living room, settling on titles ‘Meant To Be’ and ‘Love, Love, Love’. This had to be a joke. A cruel joke. He knew love better than anyone could, he could feel it, express it and write it. Certainly better than anyone at that damn Office could. Seonghwa’s anguish rapidly transformed into a seething anger as he slammed the papers onto the coffee table and stormed away to change into the nearest outerwear he could find. With equally feverish determination and the envelope wedged under his arm, the man sped to the metro, only checking the location of the Office when he passed the turnstiles. 

If one were to ask any friend, neighbour or relative, they would all say that Seonghwa was a hopeless romantic. A believer in a happily ever after, a person who grew up overcoming so many challenges and turning to be surrounded by and receiving so much love that all he wanted to do was to share it. Truthfully, you were intrigued by his result as much as he was, this onyx-haired man with his head cradled in his hands, eyes studying the carpeted floor beneath him as he awaited for any elaboration from you. But there was no such thing as a mistake in your line of work. With a short sigh you finished your inspection of Seonghwa’s result letter, setting it down on the centre of the table, and began to type up his details for what you called a ‘routine check’ - truly, it was you making airs and pretending that you were trying your hardest to see if anything at all could be changed. A cruel, but necessary dance to ease the fall of those who ended up on the Lone Soul Registry, since, the sooner the individual accepted it, the sooner they could begin taking steps towards another future.

You suppressed a bitter smile; parents who were soulmates, brother who had found a soulmate early on in his life… no possibility of this outcome being hereditary. Checking key milestones of his life, you could only see things that point towards adoration itself and an appreciation of life’s beauty. There was even growth to self-acceptance and self-love - commendable. Scrolling, scrolling through, now accompanied by Seonghwa’s desperate gaze settled on your form that forced you to control your bored expression and settle on professional neutrality, there was nothing that gave you obvious hints on why exactly this young man was now in the Registry, but your judgement decided against pursuing this curious case further. It was far too early, on a Friday, and any more snooping would most certainly be above your pay grade and above average activity.

“Unfortunately, I cannot provide you with any more information other than what had already been given to you through the letter and booklet. If it is of interest to you I can provide you with some more resources on potential Lifestyle adjustments and point you to Lone Soul networks-”

“What I need is answers!” Seonghwa raised his voice, setting a hand down onto the edge of the desk a little too aggressively for you to feel totally comfortable. Your eyes narrowed as you regarded him with suspicion.

“Sir, all that could be provided to you-”

“This is a government office, for goodness’ sake. Don’t you have access to everything? This isn’t possible. This cannot be possible. How am I, of all people, a Lone Soul?”

“You are not the only Lone Soul, Mister Park. And yes, we are a government office, and as such, are able to offer you a number of resources that can help cope with the change and find a new rhythm-”

“New rhythm, you have got to be kidding.”

Biting the inner corner of your upper lip you admonished yourself for the joke that slipped through in response to the agitated visitor. Luckily for him, and perhaps unluckily for you, he had made it into the Office right at opening time, and coincidentally, you had no consultation bookings set for the hour. Of course, the receptionists had to be kind enough to change that in the blind of an eye, and now you had to power through yet another session of all stages of grief while not yet having drunk a single cup of coffee. The man was adamant on getting something, anything out of you - you were sure of it, even if it was a false promise. Inspecting his profile, which you pulled up and exploded onto the full screen of your monitor once again, you noted his request submission twenty seven days ago. And then another one, twelve days ago. All asking the same thing: who his soulmate was, what he could do, so on and so forth. The usual. So he was a desperate one. A shame.

“Unfortunately there is nothing I can do to change the status, seeing as it is permanent, but if you are interested in Lone Soul Matching then we can arrange a separate appointment to discuss this further.”

The mention of the Matching process seemed to be the final nail in the man’s hopeful coffin as he slouched forward, and whatever had been left of his anger quickly dissipated to reveal a shattered, melancholic artist who had just realised that whatever muse he had worshipped was nothing but a lie. You almost felt sorry as you slid the rest of the papers across, complete with a self-help guide and an information pamphlet summarising all services available in the NSRO. The minutes ticked away, but Seonghwa remained frozen in place. It was almost as if with your words, even though standard and practically scripted, you revealed to him a dark truth and the music that ruled the real world. You had uncovered his ears and sung the song of the harsh present, and he could not dare find himself relieved or content with the outcome. He knew that you were only a messenger, a passing face that represented thouSeonghwads of people working for an answer, but you could read a resentment in his expression as he finally raised his head after having hid his face from you. The usual agony, a standard response that you had been trained to not antagonise, and instead to de-escalate. You sat straighter, clasped your hands together and leaned forwards, an unreadable hint of a smile on your lips, somewhat comforting, but alluring to a chilling power that you still retained for as long as you were in this office.

“Shall we make another appointment? Or would you prefer to take some time to process the results and engage with us at a later date?” as you tilted your head a little, you took note of the clouded over, spaced out gaze of the man before you. Even when Seonghwa answered with a confirmation, you were not sure of what exactly he was agreeing to, nor if he was entirely there with you. “Mister Park, would you kindly state your availability?” he shook his head, evidently clearing the haze he was in, and you were met with the mist of two endlessly dark orbs.

His eyes were translating many stories to you, some of which you probably heard on the radio. Love songs, serenades, ballads, rap about love… songs turned into an amorous encyclopaedia a while ago. Even in this, Seonghwa was bound to be ‘just another’. At the same time, your heart hurt for him; perhaps the same as it did for others who came into your lonely office at the end of the corridor, perhaps in some other mysterious way. But anyhow, your expression softened, and you allowed yourself to sympathise with his misery. It was never pleasant to find out that you were not destined to have a life partner, to have that fairy tale happily ever after.

You have seen relationships fall apart before your very eyes after couples who naively thought that requesting the Soulmate Search would simply reveal one anothers’ names instead of a mismatch and a Lone Soul. You have seen familial disappointments, arguments… but at the same time, you witnessed unfiltered joy, liberation, excitement. There was never one answer to fated romantic solitude. You wished you could say that to the very distraught young man sitting in front of you. He was not much different in age to you. He was just like everyone - human. A human faced with intense change. Change that you yourself knew a little too well. In a moment of weakness, though you would like to think it was bravery, you made a tentative proposal, a tiny thin straw to grasp:

“I wholly understand how it must be for you, Mister Park. Which is why I would strongly recommend we meet again. Not for a request or escalation, but for a chat.”

“...a chat? You cannot be serious…” he uttered, head slipping into his hands once more, fingers running through long tresses, eyebrows furrowed.

“I am perfectly serious. Aside from human investigation and data management we do offer other types of services and support, considering our line of work,” while you were trying to be compassionate, the words would not twist themselves, choosing to remain in strict lines and scenarios, as though you were reading from a pre-prepared script. Thankfully, Seonghwa did not seem to mind, far too consumed by grief that you knew would pass eventually.

“And what would that be?”

“Like I said, a chat. Or many chats, depending on what feels most comfortable for you.”

“Are you saying you… are therapists?”

“Thoroughly trained and fully licensed.”

“I will be honest, that is quite impressive. I never knew that about the NSRO,” the hint of amusement was all you needed to know that he was climbing upwards, closer and closer to regaining at least some stability.

“The centre of our business and operations is people.”

“I figured.”

“Then, if this is of interest to you, would you be able to tell me the times you are available or prefer?”

“And about payment-”

“Government service.”

“Oh. Okay fair.”

“Then? Mister Park?” you tilted your head, eyeing the man. While his present demeanour was far from threatening - a quality which you had attributed to him following earlier outbursts, he was not quite a picture of comfort. A little dishevelled here and there, top a little crumpled. Many details reminiscent of a picture hanging on a wall being ever so slightly tilted.

“I have a concert in two days… then a festival next week… oh but that’s later so no trouble…” he was mumbling to himself as he recalled his schedule. It was awe inspiring to see his emotionality dissipate as soon as he talked about work. Your prior worries of how he would handle his career after being declared a Lone Soul disappeared rapidly, and you clicked on your calendar for Monday, feeling Seonghwa would be one unlikely to stall.

“Monday? Hm… four? PM? I have a couple of schedules in the morning but should be free then.”

“Four it is. Fantastic, well, Mister Park, I just booked the appointment for our chat, and the details should have automatically been sent to you via email. You will receive a text message reminder the day before, but should there be any other concerns do not hesitate to contact us.”

“Well I would assume I would be wanting to contact you, rather than the whole Office?” slowly, Seonghwa stood up, giving you one last tired smile.

“Of course. The email would be from me, and my official contact details would be in the signature. Anything else I can assist with?” While professionalism was preventing you from rushing the singer out of the office, your head was already drumming out an incessant, painful beat; it genuinely was far too early in the morning, and you were forced to feel far too many things. 

“Thank you,” the words were quiet, but genuine, and most certainly took you by surprise, “thank you for not leaving me alone.” The morning sunlight seeped into your office, casting a glow over his form. Tall, lean, disposition so familiar to you.

“Not at all. Good luck for the concert, and see you Monday.”

“See you Monday.”

He turned to leave your office, and as soon as the mutely coloured door clicked shut you closed his records, switching to massaging your temples. With one swift turn you were staring out of the windows behind you, wondering if the otherwise traditionally pleasant day appeared different to Seonghwa too. An artist, a dreamer, a lover. A couple of minutes passed, and you noticed him appearing out of the building and ambling across the concrete tiled yard. Another Lone Soul.

He would have been a great soulmate, you concluded, and with a sigh, rose to trudge to the shared kitchen for a cup of something mediocre, wondering if you had been like him when you discovered your own identical fate. No, no you hadn’t been. Passing a few posters that lined the corridors of the NSRO, you chuckled. No, you were not ambitious enough to dedicate yourself to what was essentially fuelled by love. Instead, you looked at the careers page of this exact place. In a few swift clicks, you had applied. In a few numb weeks, you had been interviewed and tested. In a few monotone months, you were no longer a Lone Soul, but a faceless, nameless entity that dissolved in the grey walls, unaffected, unobserved.

It was impossible to tell how many Mondays had passed. Even when Seonghwa decided to stop seeing you for ‘official’ chats, your meetings never exactly stopped, him having made it a habit to find you after your strenuous work hours and his own untameable scheduling. Quiet strolls, occasional bursts of conversation. A stop at a vending machine for beverages here and there. Nothing demanding on either of you. Except perhaps the fact that you decided to take the long way home on Mondays. But that was on you. And you did not mind. And neither did he mind nor care, apparently, considering how his frequent outings could always turn into a scandal, but somehow, it never turned out to be so. Maybe society had finally changed and people learned how to mind their own business, or maybe you really were faceless. At least one person could see you.

While Seonghwa had been surprised to find out that you, too, were a Lone Soul, you could see an immediate change in his approaches. A more relaxed, trusting manner and a sweeter resolve, he had transformed from a man mourning his future to a man who found a kindred spirit and in turn, rediscovered hope. You noted that a glimmer in his eyes did suit him best. He was inquisitive: almost in every session prior to their end he asked about what it was like to be a Lone Soul in the long term, and he quickly familiarised himself with all the relevant vocabulary that floated in the community’s shared lexicon. In part because it was your job and in part because you had been touched by his sense of self that was blooming anew, you told him all and then some. Of course, it was endearing how even though he was perfectly away that he would not experience that standard run of the mill romance nor that exhilarating, somewhat spiritual connection with another, he was still adamant on being a believer in romance.

Romance that went beyond love. Romance could be a good cup of tea drunk on a cool autumn day in one’s favourite cafe. It could be a particularly deep and vulnerable conversation with someone close that brought clarity. It could be a soothing melody trickling into the ears after drowning in cacophonous cityscapes. To Seonghwa, romance was everywhere regardless of whether one had a soulmate or not. To you it was bewildering, interesting, but a little outrageous. You would have agreed to disagree on this, not being one to enjoy dwelling in general, but there was one other thing that set Seonghwa apart from many you knew. He wholeheartedly saw a face in your fog, and the floating somnolence you had been for a number of years now was being kept on its toes, trying to collect all the pieces of yourself you intentionally scattered. You began to realise that sometimes, it might be important to know who you were. 

You had to start simple. You were you, an employee in the NSRO specialising in Lone Souls, from management of the Registry, to reporting and analysis, to direct support in re-identification as a Lone Soul. That much was clear, and that much you could recite to anyone and anytime. Now for other things… you were walking in a park, it was evening, the air was turning cooler and cooler. The city did not sleep, but the buildings appeared fatigued and worn down, much like yourself after a long day. No wonder this was your favourite part of this metropolis. Seonghwa would scold you for giving such vague descriptions and relying on your environment to define you. You looked off to the side to glance at the man himself who was huddling in a jacket - new, at least to you.

You did not like much, but tolerated most things. You tolerated how Seonghwa would debate with you, in fact you could dare say that you indulged in these interactions. You tolerated how he looked at you - kind dark brown eyes, stellar grin, all the attention in the world directed right at you. There was never a doubt that he was listening, caring, remembering. Now that you thought about it, again, you were not saying much about yourself, all of your mentioned tolerances leading back to your companion. Before you could drift any further into your musings, a sudden hum of a tune that you swore you knew from somewhere jolted you back into reality.

“Oh! Look over there?” Following Seonghwa’s hand, you spotted the source of the sound, “beautiful rendition of ‘I Can’t Help Falling in Love’, don’t you think?” You shrugged, simply satisfied with the fact that you were right in your suspicions that the song was indeed one you had heard before.

You followed Seonghwa as he trailed to the small crowd that gathered around the musician. Gracefully the saxophone turned into a live creature, entrancing the audience and inspiring the capable hearts. Blankly, you watched the flying fingertips that faded into shining metal and falling leaves. 

“Isn’t it romantic?” Seonghwa joked, his tone turning playful. 

“I… suppose? It might be?”

“Then tell me what you think of it, I’d love to know,” you turned to find him studying you, softly gleaming. The fairy lights strung up on the surrounding trees made him appear even more graceful than usual, if that was even possible. You could not help but return his blissful amiability with a quick smile of your own, and your best efforts to answer.

“Well… I think his technique is good. And many people are stopping, which suggests that he is objectively good and knows how to engage the audience.”

“Ooh, that’s true. Very interesting. What else?”

“I think that he picked a good time to perform. The park was recently redecorated and the weather this evening is clear. Plenty of walkers. Probably good business.”

“True, true…” he trailed off, seemingly deep in thought. You wonder if your observations were sufficient, “I really do love how you think.”

“What do you mean? Was that sarcastic?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Not at all. Never will be. It is just so unlike how I approach things usually, so I truly marvel at how you do it. In your great way,” not a hint of malice. Only that same curiosity. Those same eyes that saw you. Better than you saw yourself. 

That was what it was - the idea finally came to you. You were blunt, preferred all things to be direct, and any empathy was given similar to how one would prescribe medication. Clinical. With an analytical mind you had no trouble scrutinising individuals through numbers, but then could not ‘count’ on someone, that same analytical and hyper-logical brain preventing you from doing so. You felt for people, you could relate to people, you could guess their emotions, but remained the observer. That was your definition. That was who you were. 

“And um… how do you see it?” Seonghwa nodded at your question, and began.

“I see a soundtrack to many beginnings, middles and endings. I see the musical notes twirling in a waltz with the autumn leaves, the dance floor illuminated by the many fairy lights. I see each mind with their own story to this song, some reliving memories and others crafting a magnificent illusion. Beyond the park, I see residents in those apartment buildings over there,” he pointed at a couple of windows that were illuminated still, and were facing the park, “them looking out at the saxophonist wistfully, mystified by how he knew that this was exactly what they needed to dispel concerns of the earlier hours in the day.”

You two continued to journey on until you made it to a nearby bench, and decided to rest. Sat side by side, arm to arm, you observed the ebbs and flows of other friends, families, lovers who flocked to the musician, only to be swept away by the night and to be replaced by another. 

“Isn’t what you just said all made up?” cautious, you queried.

“Might be, but to me, it is romance. Or rather, the idea of romanticising. I am quite fond of seeing what I cannot physically see, and then inventing more and more on top of it until we have a complete tale.”

“No wonder your songs are such major hits.”

“Oh you flatter me.”

“No, no, you…this, you capture all of this so prettily. Few can.”

“Much like yourself.”

“I do not-”

“Just differently.”

“To you, perhaps, but not to many.”

“What makes you so sure?” he was countering you rapidly.

“Enough Lone Soul meetups. Most of us are like how I am.” pointing at yourself, you emphasised the point. 

“Hm, I should start going to them if there are so many cool personalities there.”

A sharp exhale the upwards twitch was all you could muster before falling completely silent, wanting to pretend that you could see the surroundings like how Seonghwa could. They remained dull and uniform, but the notion that there was this certain someone who, thanks to their past and present, could perceive so beautifully and had the unfathomable kindness to share his interpretations with you was what you were grateful for. Through his eyes, you could see what was around you. Through his eyes, you could finally see yourself. Through his heart, you could be understood.

“Thank you,” your voice barely a murmur, “thank you for not leaving me alone.”

🏢 perma-taglist: @shakalakaboomboo @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @innsomniacshinestar @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @maddkitt @ren-junwrld @marsstarxhwa @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @northerngalxy @my-loves-my-life @http-gyu

enjoyed? please do consider reblogging, thank you <3

[cuppajj]

How would the Ancients react to the Beast Ancients and how would the Beast Ancients react to the Ancients?

Ok so I’ve gotten a lot of asks for this, initially I was waiting to make a big post about it but to satiate everyone’s curiosities:

White Lily would pale at the grim reflection of Midnight Lily. She sees the darkness in her other, the freedom in its most toxically extreme form. The unsettling factor is that they both still adamantly hold similar values, so who knows how she came to be this way? Midnight Lily on the other hand would simply pity the other. She sees White Lily as weaker and more fragile, but understandably so. She’s yet to truly realize how she can save herself by making the world bend to her. She’ll learn soon enough.

Golden Cheese is interesting because I see her understanding Celestial Cheese and even kinda seeing through her. She’s understanding of the kingdom she lost, but at the same time wishes it were back; deep down I think they share the same sentiment. However, Golden Cheese would disagree heavily with Celestial’s actions; greed and abundance are practiced by both, but Cheese was selfless to some degree while Celestial victimizes those around her. There’s a difference between abundance and horrid gluttony.

The cacaos… I think Dark would be both disturbed and disgusted to see that he could decline the way Frigid did. Taming the Licorice Sea was an awe-inspiring feat not even he has done, but neglecting the kingdom he built with his own hands and the citizens who care for him deeply, letting them freeze underneath the ice? If only he knew what caused the Beast to become the way he is… unfortunately, Frigid wouldn’t give him any time or mind. The solitary king is so kept to himself that his thoughts of the other are also unknown.

On the surface both Berrys would respect the other for their intense desire for glory, their enthusiasm, and their adventurous spirit, but once Hollyberry learns of how she became obsessed with dragons to the point she imprisoned one of her closest friends, the horror quickly seeps in. Dragonberry wouldn’t take her seriously when she argues that what she’s doing is wrong, simply because she sees her uncorrupted self as weaker and uninspired. I think Dragonberry would be itching to fight her, so if she wants to prove that her Passion is stronger than her own Pride, be her guest. Let’s see who’s the real warrior here!

Poor, poor Pure Vanilla, faced with the utter nightmare that is Saint. A version of himself where his morals of love and peace have been amplified to such a horrific level that he views himself as a messiah, a savior who wants to exterminate every soul on Earthbread under the pretense of salvation… it’s worse than he could’ve ever imagined; and the worst part is that he knows Saint truly believes in everything he says. A soul who believes the world is too far gone to continue as it is, that there is too much irreparable suffering for anyone to live on. Pure Vanilla wishes everyone could live in peace, but not like this—not when everyone is dead. Curiously, purifying his other wouldn’t be on Saint’s mind if he sees him. There’d be an underlying curiosity, almost solemnly so, in the way he looms over him. Does he see Pure Vanilla as his weaker self, or his better self?

[yuri-is-online]

Jade narrating the stuff Yuu is doing sounds funny/cute.

Dear annon, objectively you are correct. Jade narrating things sounds funny and cute in general. Unfortunately I have a cold and just took some nyquil ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ Whoops.

notes:they/them used for Yuu, this is a joke tm inspired by this meme. Please do not take this seriously and look at my masterlist for something not written on drugs.

"The humble shrimp, according to all known laws of hydrodynamics should not be able to swim. Their little legs are much too small to propel them through the ocean." Jade does not say this out loud, instead he continues to prop his head up on his hand and observe the Lounge's newest employee slaving away over the stove, signature reserved smile on his face. "The shrimp of course, swims anyway, because the shrimp does not care about what mages think is impossible."

Not that you are cooking for the lounge (yet) Jade had just invited you over for a little... he had said it was to study. What you had no idea, your patience maybe? He certainly hasn't moved since inviting you to help yourself to the Octavinelle kitchen saying something about how "humans have such interesting uses for leftovers."

"Bullshit." You think, punctuating the curse with a particularly harsh scrape to the pan. "He just didn't want to cook his dinner tonight."

"Imagine if you will, a pan of rice." Jade is idly toying with a spoon, swapping between waving it like a conductor or holding it still to speak into it like an announcer. "Truly a blessing to the hungry masses, a staple food if you will."

"Oh please no." You are tempted to spit in his plate but he would just put an unnecessary type of emphasis on thanking you for the food.

"It is presented to you fried," Jade continues, clearly deeply amused with himself "but this time, it has not been fried by a trustworthy fellow human-"

"You are an eel." You decide to settle your need to be petty by giving him the smaller fork, which does get you a regretful sigh but does not stop Jade's recapping the last episode of Twisted Wonderland.

"But by a shrimp." Jade loves it when you cook for him, not that he really wants to admit to that out loud lest you stop. Or huff and puff in embarrassment, he wants to save that for much later. Sometime when you are back in the Coral Sea and tucked neatly against his chest, safe and very much completely his and not able to run away. "The humble shrimp is proud of it's cooking."

"I am not an it, I am your partner." You are not exactly mad, you are proud of your cooking. And proud that, just like he does for his brother, he will eat all of it and then find something to complain about with a big smile on his face. Jade once again twirls his conductor's spoon, with a hum that sounds sort of like an agreement.

"The shrimp is very proud of their cooking," he amends "and the eel is very happy they want to share with him." You push your food around your plate in embarrassment much to his delight. He can't resist pushing you just a bit further, getting up as if to make for a cup but pausing to kiss your cheek before setting his kettle on the stove so it's ready to repay your favor once dinner is done. "Do be gentle with me," says the eel, heart beating horrifically hard against his chest "I am much more fragile than I look." He very much does not expect to see you darting up to kiss his lips when he turns back from the stove, the shrimp darts away with a smug giggle as the eel stands stunned, savoring the warmth of their affection before he returns to his seat.

Yes, the eel thinks he is keeping this one. Forever, ideally.

[thedeepmiracleperfection]

As most are already aware, Neil Gaiman has been accused of sexual assault by two women. The nature of this news is horrific in and of itself. Assault is a disgusting and abhorrent crime, no matter who it is committed by, and the victims deserve healing, peace, and justice, regardless of public awareness of the crime. It is already extremely difficult for victims to come forward about their abuse in the most normal of circumstances. If you add on the fact that the abuser in question is a well-loved public figure, then I imagine that these women are going through one of the most difficult periods of their lives at the moment. I wish them safety, and I sincerely hope that they are well supported during this time.

There has been some discussion on whether talking about the affects this news has had on the fandom is insensitive to the victims. I believe some people feel that Good Omens fans have been too quick to focus on the ramifications for the show rather than the affects the public allegations will have on the victims themselves. While I do think there is a conversation to be had there, I want to remind everyone that fandom is the reason this case is relevant to so many of us in the first place.

Before I go further, I will make it clear that I believe and support the victims. Like I said above, even if this was a random case of assault between completely average individuals, the crime would still be disgusting, and the victims would still be deserving of support. The abuser in this case being a public figure doesn't change that. However, the fact that the abuser in question is the creator of the very pieces of media that this fandom centers around is the only reason many of us know about it. Unless you are personally involved with any of the people in this case, chances are the only reason you know about this case in particular, is because the abuser involved has a direct affect on the media we consume. That is not to say that this case is only important because the abuser involved is high-profile. It is important because it is a crime and should not have happened. I would feel the same about any case of sexual assault I knew about. I'm just saying that the reason we know about it to begin with is because of fandom involvement. For most of us, the fandom is the only connection through which this case is at all relevant in our lives. I truly believe we would be concerned about any sexual assault we were made aware of, but the level of disruption this case has caused within this online space is a direct consequence of the notoriety of the specific person involved.

All of this is to say, I resent the messages others have been spreading, saying things like, "if two people have been assaulted and the only thing you're talking about is your fave show then you're heartless and disgusting." Babygirl the only reason I even know about any of this is because of my fave show! The show is the connection through which this news is relevant to me. And the same is true whether you know Neil Gaiman from this show or any of his other works. This case is public because he is public, and he is public because we consume his works. It's only natural that I'm going to want to discuss the direct consequences it will have in my life. Like, if I received news that my dentist had assaulted two women, my first thoughts would be in sympathy for the women and in hoping that my dentist had been brought to justice. But then my very next thought would be "But now I have cavities that need to be filled, and no dentist, How will this situation affect me personally?" Like! I don't think it is inherently cruel to wonder how the actions of another person will affect our own lives. It is a bit fucking silly to complain that we are taking too much about our faves on the "talking too much about your faves" webbed site. The reason we are here in this community in the first place is because we have an invested passion in this particular media. I don't think it is cruel to be concerned on some level about the future of this community. And the fandom wondering about the effects on the fandom doesn't mean that we don't care about the victims involved. Two things can be true at the same time.

I think it is important to remember that this fandom has had a profound effect on many people's lives. Some people rely on this community to make a living selling art and merch. Others rely on it as the only form of connection and belonging they have. For me personally, the characters of Crowley and Aziraphale have been greatly influential on my queer identity and journey of self discovery. Fuck's sake people have gotten married because of this show! It has a huge place in many of our lives. It is not selfish to want to discuss how and in what way that might change!

Also important to remember: what people post online is not the entirety of their opinions. I have many thoughts and feelings regarding this situation that don't make it onto tumblr.com because I am a whole ass person outside of what I post. It can be tempting to say that blogs which post only about how the show will be affected by Gaiman's actions are only concerned about the show. But that is just because that is what is publicly available online. You do not know what private thoughts and conversations people have had on the matter. This is the Good Omens fandom, we're going to talk about how this news affects the Good Omens fandom. If that upsets or disgusts you, you need to be responsible and leave this online space for another. That's not even broaching the subject on whether or not we can morally continue consuming this media, which is a whole other discussion with heated opinions on both sides. I'm talking about the people who think it is wrong to be focused on Good Omens at all during this time.

Like I said before, I truly feel that we as a fandom would be concerned over any case of sexual assault we were made aware of. It's just that this particular one has an influence on our community, therefore there is more discussion surrounding it. We can absolutely support the victims while also discussing how to move forward as a fandom. The two are not mutually exclusive, and to suggest otherwise is not helpful to any meaningful discussion.

[simonbrain]

cw cannibalism

No because the idea of Simon loving you so much he’d be willing to feel your flesh in his mouth :( ties in greatly with his history as a butcher. His love is all-consuming, overwhelming. This carnal desire for you to take something so inherent to you to give to him. He hasn’t known gentleness or kindness. When you two consume each other it’s the only way for him to truly express his love. Always have a piece of you in him. For him to feed off of the sustenance that only another human can provide. It’s pure intimacy, what could be more vulnerable than letting someone become a part of you?

my goddd anon this is perfect like you get me!!! also it's funny bc i'm listening to the first taste by fiona apple and like. yeah. i think it fits here kinda

cw: graphic depictions of cannibalism, body horror, and death

i like the idea of simon trying to fight it at first, assuming it's just his brain juggling around a few intrusive thoughts in an attempt to taint the only reason he's even alive still, only to slowly give in because he loves you so deeply it aches.

his heart shouldn't flutter at the image of snapping you between his jaw and tearing you apart, huffing and snarling until blood is spilling into his mouth and pieces of flesh stick in his teeth. he shouldn't swoon at the thought of swallowing you down, of treasuring a part of you in his rotten body so that you're with him always.

he doesn't know how to muzzle his hunger because all he knows is to take, to bite with the intention of breaking skin until his prey eventually becomes pliant, if it isn't already dead. but when it comes to you, it's how he shows his unconditional love and devotion, and you know this.

he wonders if you'd let him eat your heart next, just so he can understand what perfection tastes like. he wants to feel your innards flow down and settle in his belly, warming his body from the inside. he almost mourns the fact that he can't just take a piece of your heart and shove it next to his own, just so that you're connected even when he's halfway around the world.

it's what he loves so much about you: the fact that you're not easy to break, that you also have teeth—sharp, pearly whites that like to beam gleefully at him—and he wonders if you've ever thought about consuming him too. if you've gotten the urge to replace all of the ugly scars on his body with your bite marks, or if you've wanted to just completely rip them off his skin and greedily gnaw away. the one on his ribs would be a good start, and he can imagine you prodding around his insides after feasting on him, maybe blessing his poor little heart with a few kisses.

he says a quiet prayer in his mind when he sits you down one evening, hoping to whatever is out there that you won't take off running as he unboxes all of his inner turmoil. he doesn't see the way you lean in closer, too busy minding a spot on the carpet, but it does catch him off guard when you cut him off mid-ramble about how lovely he thinks your blood would taste on his tongue with a kiss. the feel of your soft lips against his while he was talking about something so horrific should have been enough to snap him out of his sick fantasies, but the way you kiss him so deeply, as if you're impatient for him to taste you, too, has his stomach twisting in all the right ways. he can't wait to feel close to you, to truly be one with his girl.

his very own bread and wine.

alternatively, the first and last time simon gets to taste you is when you're dying, very bones-and-all-esque. you're lying on the ground, a bullet lodged in your chest as he tries his very best to keep you alive, only to realise with choked-up desperation that you're not going to make it. he doesn't even question it when you shakily reach up to tug his mask off, nor does he pull away when you weakly guide his head down. you mumble a faint eat me, baby, and he does. gorging himself on your body because even in death, you give, and he takes.

[devondeal]

Let's talk about this meme

Obviously it's highlighting both extremes of emotional reactions. Rey and Finn as the melodramatic end and Luke as the "dull" end.

But I really hate the latter. I often see discussion on how Luke doesn't have a strong reaction to the murder of Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen.

I severely disagree. I have always found this scene to be heartwrenching because Luke is in so much shock and grief, he is unable to fully process his loss because of how horrific and sudden it was.

That expression above kills me every time because that is the face of innocence stolen. This is when Luke realizes what the Empire truly is which is why instead of taking the space to grieve, he immediately wants to avenge his aunt and uncle by becoming a Jedi and joining the Rebellion.

Luke may be a softy and his anger may not be obvious like it was in Anakin but nonetheless, when he tells Obi Wan he wants to become a Jedi, he has fury inside him. No matter how softly he says it.

(I imagine that's why Yoda was concerned in ep 5, while anger can be productive when processed, it can become all consuming when left untended)

On a personal note, I've always related to Luke's way of showing the negative spectrum of emotions. They may be subdued but it doesn't mean the pain, sadness, anger, etc. are any less and it's always made me feel seen. Which is why I will never accept Luke slander saying that he's unemotional and out of touch.

[gayraltofrivia]

i know i'm not saying anything that hasn't already been said, but michael shelley's story always puts such a profound pit in my stomach.

imagine losing your friend horrifically at a young age. having that trauma stay with you all your life, until even your career path is an extension of the horrors you've seen. you think, this way, you might be able to stop others meeting the same fate. you pour all of your loyalty, all of your faith, into your frail old boss, thinking that with her knowledge, and your youth to protect her, you can ensure nothing like that happens to anyone again.

you board a ship with her to a remote location, and the farther you go, the more you realize you're alone. something is wrong, both with the world and with the woman you have clung to as a mentor and friend for such a long time.

your last thoughts are those of betrayal, of going insane, even though you're not going insane at all. i wonder if he even truly believed gertrude betrayed him, or if he just thought that betrayal was a by-product of his mind shattering? i wonder if he saw any part of his friend ryan as he was taken.