#it cannot be ignored it cannot be escaped it has to be defeated

[jcbs-posting]

the worst thing about realizing you have a great narrative opportunity to kill off one of your characters in a meaningful way is trying to argue w yourself about it and, through this, only making it more narratively interesting likeglkjdlfkjf

‘god, not them, anyone but them’ -> the weight of the meta emotional loss matches the stakes

‘but they’re connected to the people around them, they’re an essential part of the story and other characters’ -> the weight of the in universe loss matches the stakes, and enforces the themes of loss and the violence of systemic institutions and how losing one person effects all of us

‘they’ll leave behind someone who loves them’ -> and that person will fight for their memory now, won’t they? that will effectively set up act 3, won’t it? avenging your love (who did everything to save you, who gave it all up so you could still be breathing, and it isn’t fair, it isn’t fair that they fought for you and gave up their own life so you could stand here, alone) is often a more effective motivator than avenging yourself.

‘this isn’t supposed to be a tragedy’ -> bestie babe YOU are the person who put a dozen people in a government torture facility what the fuck do u think you’re writing

like girl help me ghlkjblkjsf

[p0orbaby]

Wrinkled Silk

summary: Alexia’s plans to propose causes a rift between you

warnings: a little angst with a happy ending, you’re welcome

a/n: thank you for the request !

word count: 2.6k

-

“Six years, Alexia! Six years I’ve given my life to you and you can’t even answer one fucking question!”

“Lo siento,” she mutters, voice barely a thread.

You laugh, disbelieving, the sound bouncing off the cold, indifferent walls. “You’re sorry? That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself?”

Alexia stands before you, her head down, eyes glued to the floor. She doesn’t even have the decency to look you in the eye, which somehow makes it all worse.

“You’re pathetic,” you spit, each syllable a poisoned arrow aimed straight at her heart.

The words hang in the air, heavy and acrid, like cigarette smoke after a long night out. Alexia flinches, but she doesn’t respond. You stare at her, searching for some sign of the woman you fell in love with, but all you see is a stranger standing small in front of you.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you say, your voice breaking. “I can’t be in a relationship where I’m constantly kept in the dark. It’s not fair on me”

Alexia’s head snaps up, eyes wide and desperate. “Por favor, it is not what you think”

“Then what is it, Ale? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re hiding something. Are you seeing someone else? Heaven forbid you have a second family you need to tell me about”

“No! None of that. Lo juro,” she insists, her voice trembling like a leaf in a storm.

“Then what?” Your voice is loud, angry, but underneath it all is the dull, relentless ache of a breaking heart. “What could possibly be so important that you’re willing to push me away?”

You had been feeling it for weeks, that sinking sensation in your chest, the gnawing worry that something was wrong. It wasn’t like Alexia to be so distant, so evasive. She was always your rock, your constant. But lately, she’d been slipping away, caught up in something she wouldn’t talk about. It gnawed at you, gnawed at the fabric of your relationship until you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Alexia looks down again, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I cannot tell you. Es- Es una sorpresa”

“A surprise?” You can’t help the incredulous cackle that escaped your lips. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You’re met with silence. Weakness, perhaps. Or shame. Whatever it is, you can’t find it in you to care anymore.

You shake your head, sad it has come to this, frustrated that you let it. “Fine. If you can’t trust me enough to let me in, then I’m done. We’re done”

Trust. It sounded so simple, but it was the hardest thing in the world when the person you loved most was keeping secrets.

Alexia’s eyes widen with panic. “No, please. Don’t do this”

“It’s already done.” You grab your coat and bag, the weight of your decision pressing heavily down on you. You move to the door, hesitating for a moment, hoping she’ll say something, but when she doesn’t, you leave.

-

“Ale is asking for you again”

“Tell her to fuck off, Maria”

This was not where you saw yourself at this point in your life. Single and practically homeless. Bunking in your friend’s spare room while your world collapses around you like papier-mâché in the wind.

“I cannot do that, she is our captain,” Mapi says as she hovers at the door, half in, half out, like she can’t decide if coming closer is a good idea or if she should just make a run for it.

“Fine,” you snap, thrusting out your hand. “Give me the phone”

Your tone is sharp enough to cut glass, and Mapi, wisely, hands you her phone like it’s a grenade with the pin pulled out, praying it comes back in one piece.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. “Fuck off, Alexia,” you say, short and succinct before hanging up and tossing the phone back to Mapi in one smooth move. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Los ingleses estáis locos,” she mutters, catching the phone like a seasoned number one.

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when your life partner cheats on you,” you retort, pulling the covers up under your chin, cocooning yourself in a fortress of misery.

Mapi’s eyes bug out like you’ve just told her the Earth is flat. “¡No! ¡Eso no puede ser verdad, Alexia nunca haría eso!”

You scoff, the sound muffled by your blanket fort. “She’s keeping secrets, Mapi. She’s been getting home late, taking secret calls, she’s even changed the password on her phone! There’s no other explanation”

Mapi stands there, mouth agape like a fish out of water, her brain struggling to catch up. It would almost be funny if it weren’t your life falling apart.

“I think you are being, what is the word in English, teatral?” she finally says, her voice uncertain.

You groan into the air, rolling away from her to face the wall, the universal sign of ‘I’m done with this conversation’

“Dramática Maria. The word you’re looking for is dramática, and I am very offended”

“You should talk to her, let her explain,” she suggests quietly, her voice laced with caution. Clearly, you’ve scared her, which is a minor victory in itself.

You roll back over, glaring at her. “And have her embarrass me with stories of her gallivanting off with other women? Absolutely not”

“I need your translation”

“Deambulando por, María! Deambulando por!”

-

Mapi could hear Alexia’s footsteps echoing down the corridor before she even saw her. They were heavy, plodding. The sound of a defeated captain. She leans against the changing room doorframe, waiting for Alexia to reach her, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

“Do you know how much I hate you right now?” Mapi said as Alexia finally approaches.

Alexia’s eyes slide to her friend, taken aback. “What?”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like living with your insufferable ex?” Mapi continues, her voice dripping with exaggerated disdain. “It’s like sharing a flat with a black hole. The flowers wilt every time she walks past. The cat hides under the bed like it can sense a tsunami or something. Hell, I think the paint’s started peeling off the walls”

Alexia sighs, her shoulders sagging even further, if that is even possible. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Mapi snaps, her voice taking on the tone of an exasperated school teacher. “You need to fix this, Alexia. Now! You owe it to everyone, especially me and Ingrid. She’s threatening to go back to Norway, and I can’t blame her. Do you know how hard it is to find a girlfriend who’ll put up with my shit?���

Alexia rubs at her temples, frustration and guilt mixing into a potent brew of self-loathing. “I don’t know what to do. You know she won’t talk to me”

Mapi straightens up, uncrossing her arms. “Well, then you need to make her listen. And I’ve got just the plan to make sure she does”

Alexia looks at her, hope flickering in her eyes for the first time in days. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you need to stop sulking and start acting like the woman she knows you really are,” Mapi says, a mischievous glint in her eye. “We’re going to give her the proposal of a lifetime, and you’re going to need my help. And Ingrid’s”

Alexia raises an eyebrow, the flame of hope hitting that much brighter. “You think that will work?”

Mapi grins, the kind of grin that usually means trouble. “Oh, I know it will work. We’re talking grand gestures, romance like you’ve only seen in movies. We’re going to make her feel like the most important person in the world, which, let’s face it, she is. To you, at least”

Alexia can’t help but smile, the first real smile in what felt like forever. “Alright. What do we need to do?”

Mapi claps her hands together, rubbing them as if she was plotting a world takeover. “First, we need to make sure she can’t ignore you. Then, we need to show her just how much you love her. We’re going to need a lot of help, some strategic planning, and possibly a truckload of flowers”

Alexia’s smile turns into a laugh, a genuine laugh that seemed to lift the weight off her shoulders, if only for a moment. “I’m in. Whatever it takes, I’m in”

Mapi nods, satisfied. “Good. Because if you don’t fix this, I’m sending you back to live with your imaginary second family”

-

Ingrid has a knack for persuasion that borders on the supernatural. You find yourself in the passenger seat of her car, rolling your eyes as she drives you to an undisclosed location. She has insisted it is important, something you needed to see. You had resisted at first; rotting around Mapi’s flat has become a comforting routine, but Ingrid was relentless.

“Come on,” Ingrid had said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just trust me. You’ll thank me later”

Now, you were here, winding down a dirt road surrounded by fields that seem to stretch forever. The sun is beginning to set, casting a golden glow over everything. It is beautiful, but you can’t shake the feeling of annoyance. What could possibly be so important?

“Ingrid, if this is some kind of prank, I swear to whichever god you believe in” you trail off, giving her a side-eye.

She just smiles, her usual cool demeanor unshaken. “Patience, Kjære. You’ll see”

The car comes to a stop, and Ingrid gets out, motioning for you to follow. You step out, the soft crunch of gravel under your feet. She leads you down a path lined with fairy lights, their soft glow leading the way as dusk begins to settle. Your heart starts to race, a strange flurry of anticipation and confusion swirling inside you.

“What is this?”

Ingrid just smiles and points ahead. “Just keep walking”

You do as you are told, following the path until you reach an open field. Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the sight before you. The field was transformed into a magical wonderland, with twinkling lights hanging from trees, flowers arranged in intricate patterns, and a small clearing in the middle where Alexia stands, waiting.

She looks nervous, her eyes locking onto yours the moment you appear. Ingrid gives you a gentle nudge forward, and then she steps back, disappearing into the background to give you and Alexia some privacy.

You walk slowly towards Alexia, your heart pounding in your chest. She is dressed simply, a white linen shirt and some suit trousers, but the way the soft light hits her makes her look almost ethereal. You stop a few feet away, crossing your arms, your expression hardening.

“Hi,” she says softly, her voice trembling.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice flat.

Alexia takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I know you’re probably wondering what this is all about. I know I’ve hurt you, and I’m so sorry for that. I’ve spent weeks planning this, trying to make it perfect because I want to show you how much you mean to me”

You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “You think some fairy lights and flowers are going to fix everything?”

Alexia winces at the harshness in your voice but doesn't back down. As stubborn as ever. “No, I don’t. I know it’s going to take a lot more than that. But I needed to start somewhere”

You take a step closer, the intensity of your emotions making your voice weak. “You shut me out, Alexia. For weeks, you made me feel like I wasn’t enough, like I wasn’t worth your trust. Do you have any idea how much that hurt?”

Her eyes fill with tears, her guilt and regret plain to see. “I’m so sorry. I was trying to make this a surprise, to make it perfect for you. I didn’t realise how much I was pushing you away in the process”

You look at her, seeing the genuine pain in her eyes, the remorse. “You should have talked to me”

Alexia nod, swallowing hard. “You’re right. I should have. I was scared, and I handled it all wrong. But I love you, more than anything. And I want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you”

Before you can say anything, she drops to one knee, the cool grass pressing against her skin. From her pocket, she pulls out a small, velvet box. She opens it to reveal a ring, the delicate band catching the light.

“I’ve loved you for six years, and I want to love you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

The world seems to stand still as you look down at her, your heart swelling with conflicting emotions. This was it, the moment you had dreamed of, but it wasn’t as simple as saying yes.

“You broke my heart,” you whisper, your voice choked with tears. “You made me doubt everything”

“I know,” Alexia says, her voice raw with honesty. “And I will spend every day making it up to you if you let me. Please, give me another chance”

Silence hangs heavy between you, the weight of your decision crushing your chest. You look at the ring, then at Alexia, and see the love and desperation in her eyes. She is the love of your life, despite everything.

“Yes,” you finally say, your voice breaking. “Yes, Alexia, I’ll marry you”

-

Your first wedding anniversary comes around quickly, and the scene was far from a candlelit dinner. Instead, it is the training ground, bustling with activity as always. The air is filled with the thud of footballs and the shouts of teammates. You and Alexia are in the midst of a playful sparring session, teasing each other as you work through drills.

Mapi and Ingrid stand on the sidelines, their expressions an unusual combination of pride and amusement as they watch you both. Mapi nudges Ingrid with her elbow. “Look at them. Sickening, isn’t it?”

Ingrid smirks. “Oh, absolutely. They’re so in love it’s almost painful to watch”

You and Alexia pause, taking a break from your drills. She reaches over, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, her touch lingering. “You’re still too slow,” she teases, her eyes sparkling.

“Me? Slow?” You laugh, giving her a light shove. “I’m just giving you a chance to catch up”

“Ugh, can you two keep it together? Some of us are trying to focus here”

Alexia wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “What’s the matter, Mapi? Jealous?”

Ingrid joins the group, chuckling. “If you’re going to be all lovey-dovey, at least do it off the field. Some of us have reputations to maintain”

You roll your eyes, leaning into Alexia. “Like you two wouldn’t be exactly the same if you had someone like this”

Mapi puts on a mock serious face. “Hey, we sacrificed a lot for your happiness. Our peace, our sanity. The least you could do is tone it down a little”

Alexia smirks, her voice lowering between you. “Me tone it down? I’ll be telling her that later when she’s naked, screaming my-“

You feel a blush creeping up your neck as you slap a hand over Alexia’s mouth. “Ale!”

Mapi gags, and you’re uncertain of whether it’s real or not. You wouldn’t blame her, you’re quite shaken by how brazen your wife has become.

Ingrid crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Right, that's enough of that! Can you save some of your energy for the game?”

Alexia kisses the top of your head, her voice softening. “You heard them, cariño. Let’s save the best for after after we win”

You kiss her softly, the world around you fading away for a moment. “I can’t wait”

Alexia pulls you impossibly closer so she can whisper in your ear. “Here’s to many more years, mi amor”

[doodle-pops]

Dating Glorfindel Would Include...

ʚɞ He’s like a golden retriever, filled with boundless energy and wants to be all over you. He cannot spend five seconds without some form of physical contact, be it holding hands, kissing you, or bumping shoulders.

ʚɞ One of the simplest things he likes to do is to hold your hand during walks, showing everyone that you’re his. He’s absolutely proud to know that you chose him to be your significant other so, he does his best to show you that you chose well.

ʚɞ Your time courting him will never be dull. Every moment spent with him will be full of energy and laughter.

ʚɞ Whenever there’s a party, festival or ball, you are the first couple on the dance floor. The first time you dance at a ball, you are surprised to learn that he is an excellent dancer since you have never seen him dance when asked by others.

ʚɞ He’s an amazing singer but he’ll only sing for you. You are the only person worthy in his eyes to hear his voice.

ʚɞ He enjoys going for rides with you on his horse. Sometimes the both of you will sit together or on separate horses and race each other across the open fields. There are times when he’s in a goofy mood and he’ll sit in front of you on Asfaloth, ignoring the fact that you can’t see.

ʚɞ Wherever you may be working he will always find time during the day to visit you. If it’s to bring you a meal of food or just stop by to say hello, he will always make the time. Even when he’s not on patrol or doing any duties, he’s sparring. He takes this opportunity to spar shirtless in hopes that when you pass by, you’ll ogle at his physique.

ʚɞ Should you do pass by, he shows off a lot more flexing his muscles and fighting with more power and strength to defeat his opponent showing you how strong he is. One time he flexed his muscles too hard, and he caught a cramp. To say the least, it was embarrassing for him.

ʚɞ Know that every day you will be receiving a bouquet of flowers at your doorstep. There are times he’d be able to deliver it and other times when he’ll send a worker.

ʚɞ He knows that he’s not the best cook but he’s willing to try making most of your favourite meals and desserts. Sometimes he’d invite you over into the kitchen so that you could show him how to make your favourite meals. You also do the same by sending meals and desserts for him when he’s working very hard. He always gets over-emotional whenever you do so.

ʚɞ Speaking of him being emotional, Glorfindel is genuinely a compassionate individual and it’s truly an honour to experience firsthand his ability to extend his empathy to others in need of it. Even you are fortunate to be on the receiving end when times are tough on your end.

ʚɞ He’s a cuddle bug so once you’re in his arms there’s no escaping, you’re never leaving you just have to stay there and accept your fate. He has no shame in basking you kisses but he won’t go overboard since he is a Lord and looked upon.

ʚɞ Whenever you’re cuddling you tend to run your hands through his hair which knocks him out. He’s very flamboyant so, expect a lot of grand moments with him but not to worry he does take your reactions seriously; he knows what’s acceptable and what isn’t.

ʚɞ Depending on the age you met, you get the opportunity to hear his tales of the olden days when his fellow Lords and friends were alive. Around these moments are when he relies on a slice of comfort from you to reassure him that there’s still good in his life despite all that he’s lost.

Masterlist

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[kusagrasskusa]

MK Villains meeting/hearing about their (and your) child - PART 2

Erron Black, Shang Tsung, Baraka, Kano, Quan Chi, Shao Kahn edition! (Part 1)

This time, we’ll be featuring…

Shinnok, Dark Raiden, Noob / Bi Han (he wasn’t very good), Scorpion, Reptile!

Enjoy ;) @kryptofancientdreams

Shinnok

Shinnok: My child, where had you gone?

Child: My brothers and I have a plan to defeat you.

Shinnok: Then, I suppose they will have to go through with it without you.

—

Raiden: You fall from the light, sister.

Child: We are the children of Shinnok- you are just as horrible as I.

Raiden: You’re speaking just like him.

—

You: You promised our child the Netherrealm, then go missing.

Shinnok: A couple of inconveniences got in the way.

You: That human actor? Are you the same husband as before?

—

Child: I’ll kill Quan Chi myself if you can’t.

Shinnok: He is much stronger than yourself. Just wait until I win it over for you.

Child: *Pout* why! I can defeat you, so why let do it?

—

You: You need to talk to your son.

Kronika: Why so?

You: He fails to give [child] the gift of the Netherrealm.

—

Shinnok: Have you met your [sister/brother]?

Raiden: She is no sister of mine.

Shinnok: You may ignore the truth, but you know your place.

—

Child: You can't hide from fate.

Shinnok: My fate is not to die at the end of a worthless human's blade.

Child: A demi-god. And Cage proves humans aren't so wortthless.

—

Child: Brother! He escaped!

Raiden: Do you think yourself powerful enough to defeat him?

Child: Perhaps... If you can prove it.

—

Johnny Cage: Your daddy ever tell you about me?

Child: I tell him about you, actually, Ninja Mime.

Johnny Cage: Then be ready to tell him about this, got it?

—

Raiden: How does a human betray her realm?

You: If my child can have a father, that's how.

Raiden: A kind sentiment, with horrible reasoning.

—

Fujin: I had no idea we had a sister.

Raiden: If the reader has a thing for Shang Tsung and would like to see our sister...

Fujin: The author has a story for that? Can I check it out here?

—

Fujin: I won't call you mother.

You: I don't expect you to. You're a grown ma- God.

Fujin: Just making sure you're fine with that.

—

You: Give [child] back!

Raiden: I will not let you or Shinnok destroy my [sister/brother].

You: You fool! This is why Shinnok hates you!

Dark Raiden

You: Are you even going to be there for [child]?

Raiden: [She/he] can live without me. But [she/he] cannot live without Earthrealm.

You: I won't let you leave so easily this time!

—

Fujin: Where is your father?

You: I won't let you find him.

Fujin: The darkness grows over you too. I'm sorry, niece.

—

Revenant Lui Kang: I can never kill Raiden, but I make him live his life in misery.

You: He is finished with your whines, champion.

Revenant Lui Kang: And soon, I'll be finished with you.

—

Raiden: Where is [she/he]

Revenant Lui Kang: You took away my life, Raiden. Now I took away yours.

Raiden: And I will finish with this life of yours!

—

Child: Not. Another. Step.

Raiden: You dare cross me?

Child: You killed them, father. You are not deserving of the name, "Protector."

—

You: Your father's angry at you.

Child: You two have lost yourself in darkness. I trust you mi longer.

You: You forget: I'm not as merciful as him.

—

Cassie: so, you're dad's a god? Must be nice.

You: 'Til he becomes a dark God. Then it kinda sucks.

Cassie: Eh, my dad sees you as a daughter anyways. That's a plus.

—

Raiden: I never could have imagined it end this way.

Child: Father, you misunderstand!

Raiden: You helped a Reventant. You betray your realm!

Noob Saibot / Bi Han (seperate)

Noob: I am not your father.

Child: You may be dead, but you are still my father!

Noob: Bi Han is dead. You are just another orphan.

—

Child: Saibot is not as fun to play with. He's just a shadow.

Noob: I cannot always be with you, child.

Child: Then why did you ever hsve me?

—

Kuai Liang: My [niece/nephew]. You have my mother's eyes.

Child: I am not your niece. I was born to Noob, not Bi Han.

Kuai Liang: He is my brother and life, and in death.

—

You: You left me to raise a child on my lonesome.

Noob: I did what I must to protect [her/him].

You: You'd protect [child] better dead then alive.

—

Hanzo: It was a mistake. I was blinded by my rage.

Child: I actually came to thank you. I want to learn what you did.

Hanzo: How I killed your father? It went something like this...

—

Bi Han: I love you.

You: You have yet to prove it. Spend time with [child] if so.

Bi Han: That will have to wait until later, unless you can bring me home yourself.

—

Frost: I thought your dad said women weren't allowed to be heirs.

Child: No, no. He said bitches aren't allowed to be heirs.

Frost: Your family blood are all assholes.

—

Kuai Liang: I told you, we cannot waste anymore time.

You: If I can beat you, then I can take down my father!

Kuai Liang: Yes, but you can never bring him back.

—

Kuai Liang: So you finally settled down.

Bi Han: Correct, brother.

Kuai Liang: Let us see how prepared you are to raise a child, then.

—

Bi Han: Our daughter does not enjoy watching us fight.

You: You seem to forget; You are the leader, but I am the First Lady.

Bi Han: ...She will have the might of her mother.

Scorpion

Child: I understand. I will never mean enough to you.

Scorpion: I love you the same as my son. Never doubt that.

Child: Then why do you care for them more than me?

—

Quan Chi: It would be a shame for it to happen again, yes?

Scorpion: [Child] and Y/N are under my permanently protection.

Quan Chi: Protection... only worked so much, didn't it?

—

Raiden: You look just like your father.

Son: I am more hellbent than him.

Raiden: Then you can never be saved.

—

You: Who will it be, your dead family or your new one?

Scorpion: My dear wife, I am sorry. But I cannot let go.

You: I see. Then I suppose you won't be needing us anymore.

—

Johnny: I saw this chick on my way here. Literally, smokin' hot.

Scorpion: *angrly grips chain* It was you who harassed my daughter?

Johnny: *clicks tongue* Yup. Not good on my part.

—

Child: I wish I could've killed Hemuri and my brother myself.

Scorpion: He is no brother of yours any longer!

Child: Good. Then if I could kill him, it would be far less meaningless.

—

Scorpion: You took my child away!

You: Why would you care! We're meaningless compared to your dead family!

Scorpion: Bring [him/her] back!

—

Quan Chi: I thought I killed you a long time ago.

Child: That was my brother. I had come to avenge my father's clan.

Quan Chi: Then suffer the same fate.

—

Kuai Liang: Scorpion found love once more.

You: *smiles* He did. Although, he cannot look past what you had done.

Kaui Liang: That was neither I or my brother. Send the message.

Reptile/Syzoth

Cassie: So, what's your favorite bug to eat?

Child: Ew, bugs are my father's thing. I prefer the flesh of chickens.

Cassie: Huh. Gotta say, not what I expected.

—

Erron Black: *Whistles* Ain't you one fine specimen.

Daughter: Half Saurian, half [human/edenian/whatever]. *wink*

Erron Black: That so? Wanna come "put venom in my veins" girlie?

—

Takeda: I think I've seen this somewhere.

Child: Avatar? I get that a lot.

Takeda: Maybe... or furry conventions.

— (Enter Alice Cooper)

Johnny: I wanna kiss you but your lips are-

You: -venomous poisonnnn.

Johnny: Yeah, how do you kiss that guy anyways and not melt?

—(Exit)

Syzoth: *"My child" in Saurian*

Child: *"Father" in Saurian*

Syzoth: *:)*

—

Shang Tsung: I thought Reptile to be the last of his species.

Child: That was before he had me to a [human/edenian/whatever].

Shang Tsung: I must expirement with such a cross breed.

—

Jaque: I know Tiana had to kiss the frog to turn him human, but to have a child with the frog?

You: There's more than meets the eye, my dearest.

Jaque: Don't talk that close to me. Don't know where that mouth has been.

—

[ddarker-dreams]

lock!!! I need ur thoughts on Wriothesley

holding myself hostage to not go on another panopticon tangent

wriothesley has piqued my interest!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the underwater prison in particular adds so many unique possibilities to him as a yandere. one of my absolute favorite horror experiences is the game soma, with its decrepit submarines and the intense claustrophobia from being stuck underwater... i find the ocean terrifying. like wtf is going on down there. what is a leviathan. why are giant sea beasts mentioned consistently throughout so many ancient cultures. Why are there noises picked up in the ocean that cannot be sourced. why are anglerfish. why why why.

as it relates to yan wriothesley — the fortress of meropide would have a subjugating presence that rivals his. creaking metal vents, dripping pipes, the all-consuming scent of saltwater and rust; running back to his arms would be a temptation. it'd play an integral role to ensuring your cooperation. wriothesley doesn't demand complete submission. he knows human nature, the tenacity sentience imbues, for better or for worse. he doesn't see the appeal in dampening the flames that burn within you. he'd rather build a perimeter around it that'll keep the fire from spreading and burning too hot.

total transparency isn't how he operates, though. he'll clue you in, build the maze you're to navigate, but won't hand over the blueprints. you're free to traverse the fortress as you please. you can talk to whoever you want, say whatever you want, such is your prerogative. at first, you can't help but find him naively arrogant. he might be "the duke," but even he must have limitations.

or so you think.

the vacant areas that guards seemingly overlook wind and stretch for miles. each step diminishes your hope, little by little. will your provisions last? do you really have the expertise to pull off a successful dive and ascent? why did a prudent man such as wriothesley leave a potential escape route unobstructed? these doubts are weights that drag you down, and, inevitably, back to where he waits.

this leaves pleading your case to your fellow inmates or the guards. the first time you try, it's a rush of adrenaline, stumbling over your words just in case he'd come dragging you back at a moment's notice. this incoherent accusation of his grace forging false evidence to keep you here, in the depths where he'd like you, doesn't go as you dreamed. you're either met with awkward apprehension or outright ignored. in the case of the former, it's safe to assume they think you're having a break from reality. the latter is worse, more cruel; they can see where you're coming from and elect to do nothing about it. why should they endanger themselves for your sake? it's a dog-eat-dog world in the fortress.

defeated and humiliated, you return to the administrative area 'willingly.' there he waits, the door unlocked to show he anticipated your return, leisurely sipping his tea. he isn't angry, bitter, or vicious. he just simply asks,

"did you have a nice chat?"

[salvation-within-the-void]

The prime minister of the UK has just confirmed that he will change the law to allow the conservative party to forcibly deport immigrants to Rwanda.

The SUPREME COURT of the UK found this policy unlawful, the government were told they CANNOT do this.

Their response? Change the law

This policy is a threat to the lives of refugees who fled here seeking support and asylum, as a country we should be kind and welcoming. Instead these poor people are being sent straight back into the instability and violence they risked their lives to escape.

Rwanda has a history of being used to 'sweep refugees under the rug', having signed a similar deal with Israel. The supreme court found that Rwanda has previously violated laws protecting immigrant against refoulement, as it has sent people back to the nations they fled. Directly violating international treaties and violating the rights granted to refugees and asylum seekers.

Sunak also stated that he will not allow the European human rights court to block this policy and will revisit any treaties that may act as "obstacles" to this policy.

They are trying to get out of THE INTERNATIONAL BILL OF HUMAN RIGHTS! The refugge system in Rwanda is so unsafe that this is a human rights issue! And our government want to violate those rights for thousands of immigrants they are determined not to help.

These people are hell bent on making life miserable for refugees. The deputy chair of the conservatives stated the government should "ignore the law and start the flights anyway".

Rishi Sunak is also introducing "emergency legislation" in order to force this through parliament and the courts.

Where have we heard that before?

These are the same emergency powers that allow laws to be passed without parliamentary votes. The same emergency powers that enabled the "war on terror" so the UK and US could commit war crimes. The same emergency powers used by the nazis to legitimise the holocuase

This is facism! Plain as day.

I am very very worried for the future of my country and the future of this world. Facism is not on the rise, it is here. We must watch very very closely, at home and abroad, so that we can act accordingly and protect ourselves.

[dgrailwar]

Round 8, Day 2 - Pretender versus Avenger

Inside the Wyrm, it was dark. Darkness and more darkness, only slightly pierced by a light at the end. The one sign that the maw hadn't closed yet, and therefore escape was possible with enough determination. The Avenger landed inside, looking around as he drew his blade, idly met with a form slithering out of the shadows.

"Oh. Good. It's you."

"Hah! So, Pretender! Is this the result of me scorching your forest? As an Extra-Class, has this prompted you to awaken--"

"Oh, piss off, do you ever shut up? All you do is talk, yakking away all the time."

With an unamused expression, the Pretender raised his hand, the darkness from the abyss surrounding them crashing down towards the Avenger, who was forced to dodged out of the way. The Count's burning sword slashed through the darkness, breaking through the cursed insects that swarmed towards his body.

"Fine. No more talk then!"

The Avenger knew his time inside would be limited. He would need to strike fast and retreat faster in order to avoid being swallowed.

Avenger has a -2% demerit this round!

The current boosts are...

Oberon-Vortigern: +7%

The Count of Monte Cristo: -1%

SERVANT SKILLS:

Oberon-Vortigern (Pretender)

Evening Shroud and Morning Lark (EX Rank): In the cover of night, even the most unscrupulous warriors can at least feign greatness. When the sun rises, warriors gain the morale to fight another day. When engaged in combat, gain a +5% boost.

Fairy Eyes (Unranked): When 'Playing Defensively', increase your +5% combat boost to +7%. He also cannot be 'Ambushed'.

A Midsummer Night's Dream (EX Rank): Rather than just reducing the effectiveness of Servant-imposed demerits, he is immune to them entirely. Unlike other demerit immunities, this ignores the effects of Servant traits and Free-for-All demerits as well.

Anti-Human Order (D Rank): A skill representing an incompatibility with mankind. When fighting against a Servant, Pretender inflicts a 5% demerit on their enemies. If Pretender wins by greater than 10%, he recovers from one wound. If he wins by more than 20%, he deals 2 wounds instead of one.

End of a Dream (EX Rank): An incredibly dangerous skill on a countdown. When used on a Servant, they gain a +20% boost to their next polls, however are instantly knocked out of the competition afterwards, no matter their health or Command Spell status. (4 turns remaining).

PRETENDER-CLASS Servants possess an inherent trickster nature. If they fall in last place during a Free-for-All, if there is a gap of 3% within their final score and that of the Servant in 2nd place, they can evade taking a wound. Additionally, if they're victorious against other Servants, other teams cannot attempt to study the Pretender in order to gain a percentage bonus against them.

The Count of Monte Cristo (Avenger)

Determination of Steel (EX Rank): If Avenger is about to take a fatal wound, if there's at least a 3% difference in their score and the victor above him, he may avoid damage. When facing a single-target (1-on-1), he will gain a +3% boost.

Monte Cristo Mythologie: The King of the Cavern (C Rank): When battling enemies, his flames are like a poison. He reduces demerits against him by 3%, and when he is victorious against another, he inflicts a -2% demerit for their next round. This demerit increases by 2% by every 10% difference in scores.

Wisdom of Predicament (A Rank): When engaged in a Free-for-All, gain a +3% boost. Additionally, if Avenger earns last place, both the victor and the 2nd place Servant gain a -2% demerit, rather than simply the 2nd place Servant.

AVENGER-CLASS Servants are vengeful by nature. The first time they are defeated by a Servant, they gain an automatic +2% bonus against that specific Servant, without needing to study them (but can in order to increase the bonus). They gain a permanent +3% bonus per wound they attain that will remain if the wound remains, but will disappear if the wound is healed.

[friendlylocalwhumper]

“Yes.” | “Kneel.” | Best of Three | Correspondence | Appraisal | Collapse | Cupcake | Foggy | Cracking | Just Breathe | Urge | Trim | Stupid | Upkeep | Old Defeat | Watching | Simple Loyalty | Overreaction | Set Up for Failure | Burning | Healed Wrong | Haunted | Boxes Buried | Heavy Blow | Loneliness

Cupcake hasn’t been sleeping well lately. With anyone else, Simon would assume it was the whole being a prisoner thing. But this one is tough. He doesn’t seem to think he deserves better, even if his pride gets in the way sometimes. There are no longing glances toward the windows, no getting lost in daydreams. Cupcake just wants a beer, some TV, a place to sprawl and relax.

Last night Cupcake dozed off on the couch for a few minutes. Simon watched as bushy brows twisted, as the scarred chest hitched under the wifebeater, as rugged fingers twitched at his sides. He woke too soon and reached instantly for his bullet-riddled right leg.

The pain is keeping him up. Simon almost feels bad about that, although they’ve gotten to have less sessions, this week, with the little thrills he’s getting seeing that pain all day long.

He’s asleep now, though. Cupcake is on his back, on the floor instead of his bed - which is strange, although he probably gave up on the blankets and tried the carpet, instead, in his pained tossing and turning. Leaning in the doorway, Simon feels his attention slide off the man that he’s watching, straying to thoughts of groans and muffled screams. Maybe if Cupcake eats well enough at breakfast, he can suggest they have a session. Could be fun. The itch is there under his skin.

Into the room he pads softly. His pajama pants brush softly against his ankles, long hair warm and comforting across his shoulders. It’s a peaceful night with the cool air after last night’s rain and the crickets chirping outside. As Simon draws near, he can make out the very faint freckles across Cupcake’s cheeks. His short brown curls that make him look so much younger than the previous bleached mess. Twenty-seven, his file says. But Cupcake cannot read, can barely add numbers in his head, struggles to come up with words that are more than two syllables long.

Violent, antisocial, sadistic, restless, said the file. Cupcake’s never shown his violent side, here. Head tipping to the side to ponder as he watches the man sleep, Simon wonders if Cupcake is really violent by nature, or if he lashes out when provoked, like a malnourished dog in the back corner of a shelter. Antisocial makes sense, with Cupcake barely bothering to talk about the outside world and taking so long to try to get out. Must not have family. Sadistic - Simon can’t speak to that. There’s rage in his eyes, sometimes, but that’s normal for his position. There is no one here for him to hurt but himself.

Restless is the most fitting of all his descriptors. Simon finds himself reaching out, despite wanting Cupcake to stay asleep. There are dark smears of exhaustion under those closed eyes. He’s been healing slowly, he needs this. But traitorous fingers creep forward through the air until they find a stray lock of that soft brown hair. Why does Cupcake hate it so much? Enough to fry it into straw, and change its color, and grow it out in a frizzy mane. It feels reminiscent of how Cupcake ignores mirrors like they aren’t reflective at all, they’re just a normal stretch of dull wall.

His rumination wandered, and his fingers laid too heavily against Cupcake’s scalp. The soft bed of hair disappears suddenly, and the body that was so still and relaxed a second ago is moving sharply. Simon barely has time to widen his eyes before Cupcake jolts and slams bodily into him, sending them both tumbling across the floor.

A flurry of brown hair, round eyes, fists. Animalistic grunts punch their way out of Cupcake as he tries to beat Simon away from him. He can punch, Simon finds, winded into silence by the second blow and then struggling to escape a single hit. It’s like a brick is being driven into his ribs, his head, his upper arms.

Above him, straddling him chaotically, Cupcake bares his teeth and looks like a child trying to beat back a demon. Simon finds himself trying to contain the violent swinging arms rather than truly fight back. The panicked growls and grunts get louder as Simon manages to roll over and get Major onto his back, locking him in a bear hug.

“Nngh, nnh, nnh,” Cupcake grunts, breaths hissing out through locked teeth. He is shaking, vibrating under Simon, who is focused on setting his knees against the floor and tightening his arms to effectively snuff out the fight. “No, no, nnh…”

As close as they are, Simon can hear the tears clogging up Cupcake’s throat and suffocating the pleas out of the air. As soon as his hold is secure enough, Simon lifts his head.

Mistake. A collision with his head, pain blooming hot in his nose. Violent, antisocial, sadistic, restless. One of Simon’s arms unwind from around Cupcake’s back and twist fingers in his hair to pull his head up and slam it back down.

It didn’t feel forceful enough to knock him out, but Cupcake goes still with a shudder. Simon pulls back farther to urgently look into his face, hand sliding down from the short curls to tug on Cupcake’s face and check his eyes. But Cupcake is still awake. He tries to squeeze his eyes shut, and turn his head away, and only croaks out a soft sound of defeat when his head is yanked back and his eyelids pulled open, one at a time.

Simon’s not even sure if a concussion would appear as oddly sized pupils so soon, but they look fine for now. So he pulls back, planting firm palms on Cupcake’s shoulders to help him remember to stay down.

It seems to be dawning on the pinned man that he just fought back. That he beat Simon into the ground, if only for a minute. As soon as he can, he closes his eyes again, breathing hard through flared nostrils.

“What was that?” Asks Simon, voice soft. The blood dripping from his nose and onto Major’s bare chest doesn’t register to either of them as a pressing issue. “What was that, Cupcake?”

Cupcake is afraid. He’s always quieter, when he is. His angry is loud and energetic, his excited is stunned and hesitant. His afraid is very still, breathing hard, trying to process things and largely failing to. The rusted cogs in his head only turn so fast. Cupcake doesn’t know what to do now that he lashed out, doesn’t know what comes next.

“I won’t punish you,” Offers Simon, leaning down harder to show that he can keep the man pinned. “If you talk.”

Cupcake sniffs, and grimaces at how snotty the sound is. He never looks more silently furious than when he sounds pathetic. “Talk?”

Simon runs a thumb back and forth near Cupcake’s collarbone. He either doesn’t notice it, or doesn’t want to be caught showing he hates it. The silence that comes in the stead of an explanation from Simon doesn’t help.

“‘bout the…” Cupcake clears his throat. Opens his eyes, which instantly skitter away from Simon’s kind, curious face. “...Freak out, when I wake up, and… and there’s someone on me. Okay?” He lashed out. He could be killed for this. He knows it, it’s got his chest still lurching with shallow gasps. “‘m sorry. Didn’t know it was you.”

With a sympathetic nod, Simon adjusts his weight to be more on Cupcake’s hips and less on his stomach, to make breathing easier for him. “Who did you think I was?”

Silence. The pain of his shot let has him twitching, trying to change his position without it looking like he’s trying to throw Simon off. No answer.

“We’ve been doing this for a while, Cupcake.” Simon lifts a hand from a pinned shoulder to take hold of his jaw and force eye contact. Cupcake looks angry, but maybe not at the man above him. Or not just at him. “I let you get away with things. Have things your way. It’s better for both of us, to not be too strict.”

The reminder of his place is working, already, without the threat being spoken. Simon can see it in how Cupcake’s breaths miss a beat, how he holds still and waits for the promise of things getting worse.

“Would it be easier for you if I held the gun to your head?”

“...Don’t.” It is quiet, almost a whisper. “Make me. Too fhh-... dumb as, too - stupid. To make something up. I just… don’t make me talk.”

There is something in the vulnerability, there. Something more than pain in his voice. Simon is curious, so curious. But should he really devote energy to punishing the guy having a nightmare, or a trauma response, or whatever that was? Should he tear Cupcake open and expose his fears to the air, just because he wants to know? Maybe Cupcake has earned some grace.

“Okay.” Hand sliding off of Cupcake’s jaw, he draws back and stands. Cupcake slowly, achingly drags himself toward the bed. Climbs up onto it, eyes on the floor the whole way. He needs space, needs to be left alone. “Sure thing, Cupcake. Try to sleep.”

Cupcake is silent until Simon is all the way out the door. In the dark of the room, he mutters, just barely audible, “...Thanks.”

taglist: @morning-star-whump , @lthrboy, @apokolyps, @paperprinxe , @vampiresprite, @wollemi-whump,

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees , @whumps-and-bumps , @defire, @notactuallyluska

[tyrantisterror]

Who are your top favorite personifications of death in fiction and what is it that endears you to each version specifically?

None will ever surpass Death from Discworld, a character of supreme compassion who toils endlessly to care for people and assure their end is handled with all the grace and kindness they have earned in life. He's in many ways a pitiable figure, full of love for the living that he is never able to get truly close to, horrified at the cruel realities of life that he cannot undo but merely soften, and rarely ever acknowledged for the hard work he puts in at every moment of existence. He is one with his Duty, responsible to a fault. Death wants nothing more than to give life, to preserve it, to make it so we don't suffer anymore, but he knows reality doesn't work like that, and can't work like that, so instead he does his job and does it well, making sure we get some atom of justice and mercy in death when it's earned, even and especially if we didn't get it in life.

It probably seems a bit trendy to list Death from Puss in Boots as my second favorite, but I think he's going to stand the test of time as one of the GOATs of death personified. He's terrifying and relentless, bringing a looming dread that hangs over the story from his entrance on despite him only popping up sporadically, exactly as death should. While he's an antagonist in the story, he, like Discworld's Death, holds life itself in high regard, and only pursues Puss in Boots so maliciously because Puss has failed to do the same, treating his lives as frivolous and expendable rather than the precious and finite gifts they are.

Death in Bill And Ted begins as a riff on Death from The Seventh Seal, but, after being beaten by the titular duo at a shitload of board games, slowly comes out of his shell to reveal he's actually a pretty sweet and fun-loving guy when he's allowed to get out of his gloomy work persona. It all continues this theme of Death cherishing life in its way - that the finite nature of life, its necessary end, makes it all the more valuable to cherish.

The Red Death from Edgar Allen Poe's The Masque of the Red Death is a bit more malicious, tormenting the courtiers of Prince Prospero's titular masquerade by reminding them of the plague they're all ignoring before finally killing all of them when it's dramatically appropriate to do so. But, like, they fucking deserved it, using their wealth and power not to help their countrymen, but to live in lavish luxury while the common folk die hideously to a vile disease. The Red Death, in his indomitable grip on humanity, ensures a certain level of justice is held - that while the rich and selfish may steal some escape from the grim realities of life, Death will come for them just the same as it comes for the poor.

I'm going to end with Death from the Castlevania show on Netflix, who's about as evil as Deaths get in fiction, and deliciously so. He's crass, vulgar, petty, and utterly selfish, which ironically makes him feel more human than anyone else on this list. Which works for how death and violence as a whole are shown a consequences of those very human vices - after four seasons of characters inflicting death wantonly for the sake of their own personal desires and faults, it makes sense that the Death of this world would have all that pettiness cranked up to the extreme - and that he is defeated by a hero deciding once and for all to rise above his own vices and faults to fight against impossible odds for the sake of everyone else.

[weniswastelandwenis]

How would they react to Sole getting stuck in a glue trap?

Thank you so much for sending this, It was very spiritual for us to complete it.

Fallout 4 Companions React to Sole Getting Stuck In A Glue Trap

Cait:

Her rock&roll lifestyle led her to see many glue trap related incidents. First she would attempt to pull them free, but then after about 2 minutes of effort she would give up. “Well, that’s what you get for stealin me lucky charms.” They both lay in defeat and pass a blunt back and forth, Cait having to hold it for Sole, until the sun rises.

Codsworth: 

Would scream in surprise at Sole’s unfortunate situation. “MUM! What happened?” Erratically, he would blast them with 20 bars of bursting pressure, the same powerful pressure of a firehose, in an attempt to free them. “If the sir were here to see this, he would be in shambles!” Many days and nights passed, and finally Sole was free, but chronically mangled, only to pass away in agony in Shaun’s crib.

Curie: 

Spanks them sexily and rewards them for being mothers naughty wastelander. 

Danse: 

“Well I’m a synth and you accepted me, so I guess I can accept you being part glue.” Danse says warmly with a smile. Unfortunately, actions spoke louder than words, and Danse began alienating sole, treating them as if they were a feral ghoul. Sole then began spiraling and doing more drugs with hancock ever before. If they were being treated like a ghoul, then they would become a ghoul. Danse heard the news and a single tear fell from his eye, and fell to his knees. Last night, hancock carried his glue ridden friend to the glowing sea so they could become a ghoul, only for the two to get hit by a car, a rarity in the wasteland, and died instantly.

Deacon:

Would assume it’s a wacky new trend all the commonwealth folk are into, and would bring his own glue trap from home. He sets it up next to sole’s glue trap and jumps into it belly-first, making a loud resounding SPLAT noise. Sole cannot believe their eyes and begins openly weeping, for the one ounce of hope they had of getting free was eradicated right before their very eyes, and instead was a slime covered bald man wielding sunglasses and a huge grin.

Hancock: 

He ties sole’s arms to one brahmin, and legs to another. At the peak of night, he fires off his shotgun into the sky, and though not usually a religious man, says a silent prayer. A CRACK! Noise sounds around the wasteland, and he couldn’t bear to look at the source of the noise: Sole’s freedom, or their demise? Instead, he picked a spot on the distant horizon, and began walking. Some say to this day, he still does.

MacCready: 

He has heard that gasoline will loosen the glue but after a few beers and a bad batch of cram he accidentally burns down the house with sole inside it. He watches the blaze of glory with an almost proud smile on his face

Valentine:

Nick had heard rumors on the street of the vanishing sticky dame, and had to find out for himself if they were true. Ellie laid sultrily on the desk; he wasn’t sure what was going on there. “So Nick, I thought maybe we could go to Takahashi’s, maybe grab a bite to eat?” Ignoring her and heading for the door, he tosses her 10 stacks of paperwork and she collapses on the ground. “Gotta job to do, seeya Ellie.” 

~

Years pass, and he just can’t seem to catch a break. He’s down to one last lead: and it takes him to the glowing sea. Almost all hope is lost, his spirits are down, and he’s almost given up until he steps in something, and it makes a squishing sound. Looking down, there is a giant human-sized glue trap, and a skeleton stuck to it. He takes off his fedora and gets down on one knee. “Swing low sweet chariots.” He whispers.

Piper:

She thinks being stuck in a glue trap is pretty good material for a story. She reports on sole and the glue trap daily for months and actually gathers a decent sized crowd who wait every week to hear about sole and the glue. Sole tries to escape but Piper covers them in more glue because she is blinded by her success. Piper writes an article after article and to this day settlers come from around the world to see sole, begging for help from the trap as Piper smiles on, adorned in expensive clothes and jewels. 

Preston:

In his effort to find Sole and warn them that their 15th settlement was taken over by radioactive mimes, he stumbled upon them in a dark room, 90% glue, 9% shame, and 1% sole survivor. Their time was running out, and he knew it, but so were the other 900 settlers he decided were their problem after 1 week of meeting them. A lightbulb popped up in his head, and after many days of toiling with Danse and his brotherhood connections, they had created a custom power armor suit that allowed sole to perform their duties while in the glue trap. All was well, he thought.

Strong: 

Picks up Sole and smashes them on the concrete ground until they are free.

X6: 

He can’t fathom the level of pathetic one has to be to get trapped in glue. He is disgusted beyond belief and decides sole doesn’t deserve the embarrassment of being alive any longer. “Count the ceiling tiles on your way to hell dumbass.” He says before shooting them in the head. 

[seraphiism]

𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ( 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 )

( the past is gone ; the future is far away. WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF? )

chara : dan heng fandom : honkai star rail quote cr : agust d a/n : he is just a little guy . also i've played for like 2 hrs i love writing abt men i love yet have no idea who they are

THE PAST IS A DESIRE DEMON / A DEVIL IN DISGUISE : INTOXICATING, ALLURING, AND EVERYTHING HE THOUGHT HE ONCE SURVIVED. THE PAST IS AN ILLUSION, A DREAM, A RECKONING : THE WOOL PULLED OVER ONE'S EYES, AN OBSCURE SMOKESCREEN, AND THE INABILITY TO DISTINGUISH WHAT WAS REAL AND WHAT WAS NOT IN MEANS OF COPING WITH WHAT WAS LOST.

the past is something dan heng cannot escape. journey after journey, battle after battle, the tides grow in their cruelty, threaten to drown a dragon in the waves of penitence. there is something that lingers in the strings of the heart-- a memory waning, the bitter taste of rust on his tongue-- how it anchors him so, prays for a downfall that one deems deserved.

the past is not something dan heng wishes to remember, but he does, anyway, because somewhere, there is the breaking of a seemingly cold soul that reminds him that even he cannot ignore his own humanity. defeat the spirit and it will return even stronger, suppress the sins of the past and they will return with even more hatred and anguish.

somewhere, he's drowning.

his vision fills with a clear blue-- tranquil. silent. forlorn. a clear blue, a violent storm, the harsh ebb and flow, then a muddled mess of blue and black. everything distorts, turns into white noise. he cannot see, cannot hear, feels his senses being stolen away, left in a limbo of uncertainty. something presses against his chest. something is pressing down and down -- a slow descent, the rapid rise and fall in attempt to breathe breathe breathe BREATHE --

dan heng cannot regain himself. he shuts his eyes, reminds himself that there is a way out of all things. composure and focus aligned, he controls his breathing. in and out, inhale and exhale. deep breath. there is a way out of all things. there is no need to be afraid. the pressure eases. the weight is lighter, but remains present, but the sway of the waters persists, and he cannot stabilize himself, find harbor and safety in the tides.

he opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is you. his head throbs, the floor beneath him far from comfortable. he cannot remember much, not really, recalls fighting beast after beast before seeing you in danger. he has always been a protector, a shield, but even then, he does not think his heart has ever raced so quickly in the desperation of guarding another. how quick he was, covering your body with his in order to save you from harm's way.

--ah. he remembers it all now. the way you cried out for him, that terrifying pain that engulfed his body, the quiet relief he felt when he realized you were okay, then the losing of himself and the welcoming of darkness.

you hover over him, concern etched all over your features, scratches and bruises adorning your face. your hand lingers on his chest, desperate. you seek comfort in the knowing of a beating heart, a weak apology spilling from your lips for about -- well, everything. dan heng doesn't quite understand it all-- an apology for shaking him so hard in means to wake him ( and maybe that's what it was, that weight, the strange instability in the tides. it was you all along, trying to pull your lover from the depths of the sea ). another apology for letting him get hurt, then another for--

his body hurts. his limbs ache, but he will be alright. he has to be. he smiles despite the panic and adrenaline that continues to rush through your bloodstream, and the mere sight means more than you could ever tell him. your words cut short, voice nearly breaking, and you cry the moment he places his hand over yours.

he does not speak of love so casually, finds that actions speak louder than words. in the way he squeezes your hand, utmost ardor found in blue hues, there is the silent confirmation that he is alright, that he's here with you.

"thank you." you whisper, and there are so many things you wish to say, but the words lodge themselves in your throat, heavy with the realization of what could have been. "thank you, dan heng."

you repeat this like a mantra unheard, the tears shamelessly spilling. he doesn't like the sight, feels the guilt rest on heavy shoulders, so he sits up, holds your hand a little tighter before he pulls you into a hug. how warm your tears are, he thinks, when you bury your face into the crook of his neck, and how grateful he is that you are able to share this moment, even if you are both injured. it doesn't matter in the end, he supposes. you are both alive and together, and that's all he needs.

"i won't leave you." he tells you. "you have me until the end."

[bontenten]

good girl

Pairing: Itoshi Sae x f!reader WC: 2k Tags/Warning: eating disorders, throw-up, yandere, manipulation, body-shaming, degradation, humiliation, drugs, pregnancy mention, eating disorders

a/n: read the tags, not my problem otherwise. :looksaway: anyways, fun fact, football/soccer is so insanely popular on instagram. ronaldo is the most followed account with 579M (the only individual to pass 500M, the other is the ig account), closely followed by messi with 457M. 2 football clubs and 2 other football athletes-ish are also on the top 50 list. i was genuinely amazed?

Happiness is sharing that meal with the man you love the most, global football star, Itoshi Sae. After so many years of hard work, Sae is finally the star mid-fielder for FC Barcha. He has so many commercial gigs, sponsorships, and invitations to special events and dinners. With Sae, you have tasted things beyond your wildest dreams. You cannot imagine a better version of your life than the one right now, next to him. 

It's glamor and perfection for a little while. One day, the news headline flashes "Itoshi Rin: Star Striker of Bastard München". That day, you see a new, unfamiliar expression on Sae's face. You don't have a word for it, but you can describe it as a peculiar mix of pride and disgust. But he's the only one you'll ever look at. The best in the world, to you forever. You think it's enough. 

Rin's debut in the global football scene is hailed as the birth of a genius and superstar. The same talk shows, magazines, and brands suddenly flock over to the younger Itoshi. And for the first time, since Sae has joined FC Barcha, the team walks away from the World Cup, defeated. The journalists sensationalized the entire match. The most circulated photo is none other than Rin mid-air about to send the final point into the goal. 

A week later, Itoshi Sae is no longer the most followed individual on Instagram. He's overtaken by Itoshi Rin, with over 600 million followers in a feat that has only been achieved by the platform's own page. Sae never seemed to care about details like that, since he rarely ever posts to his page. It's usually managed by a special team instead. But you find Sae looking at Rin's page, focused on a photo of Rin and a gorgeous woman pressed tightly to him,  a popular gravure idol now better known as Rin's girlfriend. You will never forget the scrutinizing look he gives you that evening.

The comments about your body and eating habits started crawling in. You don't realize it at first, thinking that of course, Sae would know more about gastronomy than you. He's been to so many more places than you and seen so many things. He's always careful with his food too, as an athlete. 

--

You kiss him back, eagerly guiding his hand toward the waistline of your panties. Sae rests his hands on your hip and stops.

"You've put on weight," he comments bluntly.

You're a bit confused and still a bit excited.

"M-Maybe. I'm getting my period soon, so I might be a bit bloated," you stammered. Seeing Sae's uninterested expression, you cross your arms to hide your body. "I'll run sometime this week, all good."

Sae ignores your suggestion and leans back against the headboard. "Did you take the tablets I got for you?"

You think back to the large capsules in the jar that you're supposed to take twice a day. "Oh, I forgot. I'll just take it tomorrow," you tell him, not wanting to travel all the way downstairs so late at night.

Sae groans and gets up. A moment later he returns with a glass of water. "Here, I went to get it for you. You have to take it on time every day."

He offers you three pills in his palm and you take one, except he gestures for you to take more. 

You look at him cautiously. "I think...I'm only supposed to take one."

A loud sigh escapes him. "But you keep forgetting, so just in case. It's fine. You won't overdose. They're like vitamins." 

"Okay." You swallow pill after pill after pill.

Sae smiles and presses a kiss on your forehead. "Good girl, let's go to bed now."

--  

A month after taking those pills, you notice your tastebuds drastically changing. Everything you eat tastes like ashes. For most meals, you try to swallow a few bites, but they go down like sandpaper. And then everything is heaved out not too long afterward.

Sae is with you each time, giving you encouragement and comforting you. He gives you water to rinse out your mouth. He tells you that you feel better now that extra waste is cleared. It's funny that the first time you threw up, you thought you were pregnant. And had the same thought the second time your period was late. 

Your period isn't late. It's just gone.

Your wardrobe also transforms. Sae brings back so many gifts often, filling your closet with designer outfits. You recognize a couple of the brands. You've seen the photoshoots of Rin and his girlfriend. He asks you if you want to try them on. You should have realized that Sae doesn't spend his time playing dress-up with you. 

"Do they have another size, Sae?" you ask nervously, trying to suck in your core as tight as possible.

You see him wrap his arms around you in the mirror, face resting in the crook of your neck. He shakes his head. "I can't take back something I bought already. Do you still like the styles?"

You give him a weak smile and concede. "Yea, they're pretty."

"Good. You look good in them," Sae whispers low in your ears. "Just have to lose a bit more. One day you'll fit them just perfectly."

Sae tells you how important it is to have a goal in mind and always focus on the big picture. And that he'll help you. Always.

--

More weeks pass by. You can't sleep at night anymore. Your feet are just always so cold, nothing you wear or do can warm it up at all. And you're so hungry, your sense of smell is so heightened that the air is palpable. The faintest trace of something has your mouth watering. After checking that the man next to you is sleeping soundly, you carefully tip-toe down the hall, avoiding the floorboard spots that will creak. It's a laborious feat when you also have a  sprained ankle.

In the darkness of 3 A.M., you find heaven and bliss. You grab at the frozen foods but pause at the thought of turning on the stove or oven. Sae will wake up. You spot a single ice cream popsicle left in the box. It's from the last time Rin visited. Expired, but it'll do. Sae won't pay attention to it. It won't hurt. You rip off the packaging savoringly the sweetness and cold tingles that seem to bring life back into your body. For the first time, something doesn't taste like chalk. Stay quiet, Sae will wake up. 

"What do you think you're doing?"

Your eyes flick toward the direction of the voice where a dark figure is leaning against the wall. Sae is up. Each step adds to the lump in your throat. The ghostly fridge light illuminates part of him gradually until the displeasure that's written across his face is revealed. Tears began to prickle in your eyes and stream down.

"S-Sae, I'm—I'm so hungry," you sobbed, curling into a ball. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Shhh," Sae coos, using his thumb to swipe your tear away. You're still apologizing between each breath when he wipes the edges of your mouth that are smeared with ice cream. "I know, baby, I know. I know it's hard."

Sae never raises his voice at you. He's always so gentle and extra affectionate in moments of your vulnerability. He reaches for the ice cream pop you're gripping in your hand and takes it from your grasp. He licks the melting trail and finishes the treat in a couple of bites. You don't dare to look at the wooden stick that is the reminder of your late-night exploit. You wish you ate a bit faster.

Sae crouches to your level and waves the little stick in front of your face. "You're not a child. Snooping around late at night for things you know you're not supposed to eat? It's bad for you. Sweets have to be earned."

"Yes, I know," you whisper, ashamed, eyes fixated on the square tiled floors.You hear fabric rustling and soon bright light shines in your eyes. You see the latest picture of Rin and his girlfriend at the beach.

"It's tough love, but take a good look at her." Sae scrolls through a couple of their latest photos. "Look how skinny and sexy she is. See that collarbone? You can drink out of that. Now look at you."

His comments shatter you and you begin to sob. He stands up and continues, "If I wanted just any slutty bitch, I would have ten in my arms right now."

You know he is right. Women fawn over him whenever the two of you go out. At events or just on the streets. Even without his reputation as a football icon, Sae is a gorgeous man. 

You don't have anything left after meeting Sae. Your family and friends are left behind. Your schooling and your job are all set aside. If he doesn't want you anymore, what are you even worth? You panic. "I know Sae. I'm sorry, I'll do better. I swear." 

You really mean it, truly. You feel terrible. 

Sae’s voice softens. "You know why I still choose you out of all of the girls?"

You shake your head.

"Look at me."

You don't move.

"Look at me, baby."

He lifts your chin and your eyes fix on him. His teal eyes seem to glow.

"Because you're a good girl," he says firmly. So assured like it's the most obvious truth in the world. "You're a good girl, yes?"

You nod shakily. 

"You have to look good, so I also look good, understand? Say something." 

You nod again, biting back the tears that are trying to spill. But you manage to choke out a quiet 'yes'.

"When I'm good, we're," he gestures at the space between the two of you, "good. So, don't ruin this for us."

He hands you the popsicle stick. "If you make a mistake, you have to fix it. Then you have to learn from it. It's the same thing as football. I know it's hard, but I also know you can do it. Prove me right."

You crawl up to your feet and prepare to make your way to the bathroom. Except Sae stops you. "Do it here. You made your mistake here."

You take a deep breath and open your mouth. You take two fingers and try to reach the back of your throat. It's the first time you try to induce your gag reflex by yourself. Usually, you just throw up on time or Sae helps. You look towards Sae. He motions at the popsicle stick. So, you try again. This time, the birchwood presses on your tongue.

"That's it," he encourages, "keep going."

You feel the lurch. It comes in dry, just a wave of nausea. You stick the stick a bit deeper in your throat. This time the reaction is a bit more visceral. A few violent gurgles later, acidic cream spills out and splatters onto the floor. You hurl a few more times, just pure bile and some unidentifiable remnants of something. Tears blur your vision and the inside of your nostrils burn. 

"Now clean it up and think about what you did wrong."

You scramble up and limp over to kitchen towels to wipe up your mess.

"I...shouldn't have snuck out at night to...eat ice cream," you confess out loud. "I shouldn't have...eaten..."

"Good job," Sae compliments you, taking the soiled towels from you to throw away and handing you a glass of water and a capsule. "Now you'll never forget. Lessons are only useful if you'll get something out of them. I can see the change in you already."

This is the warm Sae that you love. His smile brings so much joy to you, especially when he is smiling because of you. You sip on the water, expertly swallowing the pill, and nod eagerly. "I'll lose more, Sae. I'll look pretty for you."

Sae smiles and pokes your cheeks. "That's my girl. It's for your own good too, you'll look very pretty when you can fit in the dresses I buy for you."

You bury the thoughts about the sharp pain in your chest and dull ache in your ankles. All that matter is Sae and his love for you. You can lose everything and anything but that.

[hanniejji]

bottle of memories

[ father!diluc ragnvindr x child!reader ]

summary: diluc brings you a bottle of memories shared between him and your mother.

notes: a very late weinlesefest fic oof, and a rare fluffy phoenix scenario lmao | m.list

words: 1258 | warnings: unedited lol wrote this as work

"y/n?"

you teared your eyes away from your book, meeting diluc's eyes from the door to your room. gently, you set your quil aside.

"yes, dad?"

"are you," his voice trails off at the end, eyes not able to meet your confused gaze as he turns his head to look at the side.

this is so unlike him, you thought.

"is there something wrong?"

"are you busy today?"

"eh?" you quirk an eyebrow in confusion.

why is he asking me this when he's supposed to be the busy one between us? you pondered, watching him cough behind his hand out of bashfulness. i thought, as the winery, he's supposed to be busy at the weinlesefest?

wait, is this because of me?

your eyebrows pinched together in concern.

"i'm free for the rest of the day, dad," you push yourself up from your study table, approaching his form at the door, "is there something you want to tell me?"

"yes, i—" diluc pauses, releasing a deep sigh and shaking his head.

"seriously," you whined, irritated at the way he's drawing the conversation, "just tell me what it is. you're scaring me."

"apologies, it's nothing bad really," chuckling, diluc smiles at your annoyed look.

there's a weird sense of comfort that he gets whenever you express yourself without hesitating, like you used to a few years ago. a visible evidence of having fixed the misunderstandings between the two of you. you're not as reserved as you used to be. slowly, you started to act more like… yourself, in front of him.

and he couldn't ask for anything more better than your comfort.

"would you like to join me for the day?"

"what about the weinlesefest?" you quirk your head, "isn't the tavern going to be crowded with people for the whole week? not to mention—" a finger slightly scratched your chin in thought, "you're releasing a new mix specially made for the festival and you're opening a stall in springvale today."

diluc watches you ponder in amusement, "and?"

"what do you mean 'and'?" your hands rest on your waist in an act of sterness, before a loud gasp escapes you.

"what?"

"i cannot believe you're ditching your work!" you point an accusing finger at diluc, "you have piles of paper in your desk—no, don't deny it, i was the one who delivered those papers! and you're setting aside all of those!? who are you and what have you done to my dad!?"

diluc couldn't stop himself from grinning at the way you're scolding him, shaking his head at your accusations before sighing a little dramatic, feigning offense. times when you act like this really reminds him of your mother.

"i can't believe my own child is accusing me of inefficiency, have i not done well in my previous endeavors?"

"don't gaslight me!"

"anyways," he clears his throat—ignoring your offended gasp, "nevertheless, of course i would choose to spend some time with my only child over my work. those can wait," he gingerly pats your head, "i have something more important to show you."

your voice gets caught in your throat, unable to form a comeback to his words. you are still not used to your own dad prioritizing you over anything else—he always has, just not in a… proper way, for the lack of better words—thus always rendering you speechless when he makes it known. have you received such treatment when you were younger, maybe you could've said something witty in response. just anything to turn the table against your sometimes menace of a father. instead, you're left looking like a fish out of its tank before choosing to pout as your last defense.

"you win this time."

"i always do," he smiles smugly at your defeated glare before turning to exit, "well then, shall we go? you did say you were free, did you not?"

"okay okay!"

diluc fondly watches you go about your room, grumbling about the 'inconvenience' he had brought upon last minute. something that your mother used to do when she was still alive.

"ready, dear?"

you perk up, jacket thrown over your shoulders and standing alert—imitating that of a soldier.

"uh huh!"

you were, unfortunately, not as ready as you thought you were.

"this is…" your voice trailed off, confused eyes staring at the stone tablet in front of you, hands almost trembling when your head finally registered the name engraved into the stone.

here lies our beloved lady, wife, and mother.

lady ragnvindr.

you've never been to your mother's grave before.

the grass around it is properly trimmed, a few buds of dandelions growing behind the stone. reaching over to touch the engravings, the surface cold and smooth to the touch tells you that it's been taken care of very well. a paper bag was placed right beside the stone, someone's been here before you.

for reasons that are still not clear to you, your lips tremble and the back of your eyes starts stinging with the onslaught of tears.

"your mother used to dream of spending the weinlesefest together, just the three of us," diluc kneels beside your unmoving form, the smile on his face melancholic yet deep in his heart, he knows he has learned to accept the truth and the present. had he not done so, he wouldn't be able to gather the courage to take you to your mother's grave.

taking a deeper breath, he reaches for the paper bag right beside the stone and takes out its content—'it' being a bottle of unlabelled wine, the purple liquid inside sloshing as he passes the bottle to you.

wait, to you?

"what's this for?" you turn the bottle around in your hand. finding nothing written, you look up to diluc's soft eyes questioningly.

"you're mother and i made that in her second trimester," he chuckles at a memory, "she wanted to give you this despite my reasoning that you would be too young to drink it even if it's ready for consumption. alas," he sighs fondly, "she won the argument. as she always does," he turns to give you a teasing look, "you don't seem to inherit her victorious chain when it comes to arguments."

"rude," you huffed, sending him a glare before looking down at the bottle in your hand, "can i open it?"

"of course."

"can i… drink it?"

"dear, you're too young for that," he ruffles the top of your head affectionately, "maybe in a few more years, hm?"

"hmp, a shame," you uncapped the bottle, bringing the top to your nose and breathing in its strong scent. you scrunch your nose and backed away, "archons, that's old."

"it's as old as you are, dear."

"is it grapes and sunsettia?"

"indeed," he nods approvingly, "there's a few other fruits your mother had mixed in but it's mostly those two."

in a hushed voice, the two of you casually discussed the contents of the wine with diluc sharing your mother's thoughts on each fruit. it somehow felt comforting to spend time with your father in front of your mother's grave. it makes you feel as if you're spending time with her as well, the mental images of your mother that you've seen in pictures flashing in your head, imagining the sound of her voice and her gentle smile.

"can you tell me more about her?" resting against diluc's shoulder, you fiddle with the bottle's cap, staring right at your mother's name engraved on her grave.

diluc smiles at this, one arm over your shoulder.

"of course, my phoenix."

[goingravager]

okay i am going feral over this. it's 2023 and no one was going to point out to me that the title doesn't translate to Revolutionary Girl Utena wtf

like. i legitimately never noticed. idk how obvious it is if you're a native Japanese speaker, or if it's actually acceptable grammar to put the adjective after the noun and this is just an alternate way to say Revolutionary Girl, but... growing up with so many "Magical Girl X" shows, "Revolutionary Girl Utena" sounded so normal to me that I never looked at the Japanese.

and like, the French subtitle that they throw in there is la fillette révolutionnaire, which does translate to Revolutionary Girl

but, thinking about it, if it really is that, shouldn't it be "Kakumei Shoujo", not "Shoujo Kakumei"...??

so the reason this has me feral: if it's true, it's yet one more bait-and-switch they threw in there, right up front, and it was in plain sight all this time. caution: heavy spoilers for the plot of the show follow.

so like. it's my opinion that the OP, both song and video, of Utena are an extremely clever bait-and-switch. in that they make one kind of sense going into episode 1, and they make a completely different kind of sense once you've finished the show.

like. when you first watched Utena, and you saw the intro, wasn't it basically exactly what you thought the show was going to be like? two girls having a meet cute, there's duelling, fairy tale elements, Utena is badass, and oh no she's going to have to struggle to hold onto Anthy metaphorically because of the Rose Bride thing, which could tear them apart at any time!

it's delicious, it's dramatic, and it's... not what the show ends up being.

but then you watch episode 39 and you realise. the intro is a complete description of the entirety of the show. two girls meet, they have some cute romantic moments early on, there are duels. Utena fights everyone. the castle collapses. they storm the heavens, Utena on her princely white horse of innocence and ignorance, Anthy on her dark horse of... being the dark horse of the plot, lol. Utena cannot be the one to save Anthy, she both metaphorically and physically cannot lift her out of her burdens, and Utena is left alone, curled up on the ground beneath the self-imposed weight of her defeat.

meanwhile, the song. the song!! going into the show cold, "rinbu revolution" seems like a pretty standard song for someone like Utena. but it's not Utena's song at all. it's Anthy's.

Even if I dream, even if I cry, even if I get hurt... ...reality keeps on coming recklessly. I wanna find out where I am, the value of being me. Gonna take who I've been up till now and find the strength to throw it all away. Strip down to nothing at all. Become like a rose petal blowing free! Even if the two of us are ever torn apart l swear that I will change the world.

who, in the plot, finally accepts the reality of her situation? who starts out lacking self-worth and struggles to eventually carve out, with her own hands, the place where she belongs? who heroically finds the strength to throw it all away, stripping herself of her prior role?

not Utena, who up until the very last clings to her "princely" ideals, into which she has placed all her worth and sense of self. in the last episode it's made clear that she hasn't changed the world one bit, nor brought revolution, as the world quite literally forgets her and goes on without her exactly as it was.

except for Anthy. Anthy remembers Utena, the only one who does, even though they are torn apart. she frees herself, changes her own reality by escaping the cycle of abuse to which she had become conditioned. Utena undoubtedly gave her strength and inspiration, but she could not lift Anthy out of her suffering, and believing she could (and had to) was her downfall.

let go of me, Anthy says, as their hands part, to an Utena who firmly believes that she can only make a difference by playing the hero. i'll go my way. the revolution is hers, not Utena's.

which is why, if the title is purposely misleading, it's so damn brilliant. we start out thinking, "of course! Utena is a revolutionary girl! She wears the boy's uniform* and duels, and she'll surely bring the revolution and save Anthy!" but what occurs is simply a "girl revolution", a Shoujo Kakumei, that is completed by Anthy herself.

*(no she doesn't, it's actually a unique uniform design. neither this nor that but a third thing.)

but maybe we can go deeper.

we know that Utena means calyx, while Anthy means flower. a calyx is the tough, protective outer layer of a flower bud, matching Utena's role in relation to Anthy. once a flower blooms fully, the calyx is no longer needed to protect it, and retracts or withers. i'm not a native Japanese speaker, but from what I have studied, it would seem that "Shoujo Kakumei Utena" could be read as "girl-revolution protector". not the one who brings the revolution, but the one who protects/shields the revolution-bringer, who nurtures Anthy while she is vulnerable. then Utena, the calyx, crumples, and Anthy blossoms in her own time.

and i think that's beautiful.

[impalafullofbees]

I made seven sonnets about one-sided radiostatic because I guess I’m very deeply entrenched in this fandom now. This is my first ever post on this site, I’ve been on it for approximately two minutes now so if I mess up the tagging or whatever, just tell me please.

Anyway-

Sonnet 1

It all started when Vox sat in his tower

Quite bored, couch-sitting with Val and Velvette

He sat there contemplating Alastor’s power

Determined to have him in his clutches yet.

“There has to be a way,” his fury erupted,

“To topple his throne, get him here, make him pay.”

Val and Vel ignored him uninterrupted

These outbursts were common, the same day by day.

He rounded on them with a terrible groan.

“Listen to me, I need to defeat him.

But he has friends, I need friends of my own.

Let’s plot, scheme, plan something not on a whim.”

Vel looked up finally, sighing she says,

“You work on waves, so does he. Disrupt his.”

Sonnet 2

Vox posture relaxed, he was taken aback,

Their contributions were few and far between.

His obsession and his verbal attacks

They encouraged not and did not intervene.

But this was a plan, and not a half-bad one

He mused, pacing, thanking Vel as he went.

He had to start planning and get that plan done

With Alastor gone, he would be content.

But how to disrupt the Radio Demon

And kick him off of his own radio waves?

He would be stopped before he could even begin

Fighting head-on would be making his grave.

Then he stopped pacing, revelation struck

With a signal-blocking device, Al would be stuck!

Sonnet 3

Vox rushed his room, plugged his head in with glee

To make a device both subtle and strong

Until too late, Alastor shouldn’t see

This half-planned device that could do no wrong

Surely Vel and Val still sat grateful

That Vox’s obsession was turned to his work

To make a device that could be so fateful

They relaxed finally, still bored, jobs shirked.

But Vox was still tense as he worked without tire

Building programs, deleting, scrapping it all

Every click of the keyboard had passion of fire

Perfection was key, no wrong big or small.

Finally, after hours of hard toil,

It was done, complete, his work long-last assoiled.

Sonnet 4

Now to enact his plan most effective

He sent off a drone to infiltrate the hotel

It would, with luck, complete his objective,

Do what has failed prior for all of Hell.

He cackled with mirth as he set the drone free,

It had quite the girth as it sailed red skies

Precious cargo aboard, worth all can see.

Vox watched it from earth with stars in his eye.

It attached, like a fly, to the hotel wall

Its camera eye glinted as it drilled way inside

Then scuttled, a spider, scurrying down the hall

Sneakily slithered, snakelike, to where Alastor did reside.

Finally it breached, the mighty little bug,

Alastor’s room. It buried in a rug.

Sonnet 5

They waited, Bug and Vox, for Alastor

Anticipation nearly swallowed them whole.

But he came, cane clicking, as Bug ticked and whirred

It was quiet, Vox made sure to control.

Alastor stopped, his smile frozen in place

While both Bug and Vox stayed frozen in seats.

Did he notice Bug, which invaded his space?

Or would Vox’s mission be long-last complete?

Then he looked down to where Bug was hidden.

Vox’s brain-child, his brain-egg he freely exposed

To Alastor’s brain-sperm of thought, unbidden

They made Bug jointly, their joining predisposed.

He looked at the floor and gave a soft hum

And he plucked Bug between his forefinger and thumb.

Sonnet 6

“Why hello Vox, I am aware, my old friend,

Your spying, that’s old, that, I can allow,

But my room is a reach you cannot extend.

Arrive prompt, and by prompt I mean now.”

Bug chittered, scared, as Vox nervously sweat.

They were caught, no escape, their plan had failed.

Vox teleported there, his match had been met

Saw poor Bug trapped in Al’s grasp and he paled.

“I just want to talk, no harm meant I swear.

You know spying, for me, often crosses lines.

There were limits? I was not made aware.

I can go now, leave you and your confines.”

“No, you wanted to talk, let’s talk right here. ”

“I should leave, I’ve invaded your space, that’s clear.”

Sonnet 7

Then, with no hesitation, he dropped Bug

Who made a “ting” on the hard wood floor

For Alastor had moved the soft, plush rug

Crushed Vox’s work underfoot, destroyed forevermore.

It was a threat, that much was made glaring

No time to mourn, now Vox had to think fast-

Why would they talk? They made an odd pairing-

To cover his lie and escape un-harrassed

So quickly he blurted what came to mind

“I’m in love with you, I don’t want to fight.”

Alastor laughed loud, then rudely declined

On his heel turned, left, and turned out the light.

And Vox was left sitting, alone, in the room

Sonnets are about love, but this one is gloom.

[mint-yooxgi]

Hello, I was wondering if I can get a Jongho comfort Drabble maybe with a chubby oc?

-Em✨

"Jongho?" Your voice is tender as you call his name, ducking through the apartment to try and find him. "Are you in here?"

Silence greets you, which only causes your brow to furrow. You could have sworn he was home fifteen minutes ago when you popped out to the store to grab some eggs. His shoes are still by the front door, and nothing seems out of place. You just wish you could find him.

Pushing open the door to your shared bedroom reveals a lump buried beneath a tremendous about of blankets.

"Jongho?" You speak, somewhat cautiously.

The lump grunts.

"What are you doing hiding beneath the blankets, silly?" You chuckle, moving to sit on the side of the bed. "It's not like you to nap at this time."

You're assuming he had been facing you, for he turns away from you, another low grunt escaping him.

Immediately, you know something's wrong. It's not like Jongho to oversleep on days like today. Especially not when he has them off with you. Normally, he's at the front door waiting for your return, only to drag you back out with whatever plans he has for the day.

"Is something wrong?" You voice your concern, placing a gentle hand onto his back.

He practically flinches from your touch, pulling himself away and curling in on himself.

"Jongho," your expression falls, worry lining your words as you hear a muffled sniffle from beneath the blankets.

A small silence settles over the both of you, and you frown lightly.

"I'm not going to push you to talk if you're not ready, but whatever's bothering you, know that I'm here to listen when you're ready." You reach over and manage to pat his arm lightly without him pulling away from you this time.

Standing from the bed, you go to exit the room. Only, the sound of him sitting up draws your attention, along with the soft 'wait' that has you halting right in your tracks.

Turning around, your heart squeezes painfully in your chest at the absolutely defeated look on his face. He's wearing one of his old hoodies, one that should probably be thrown out from how worn it is, the seams fraying from age, but he cannot bear parting with. A hoodie you know he only wears when he's feeling down, and needs comfort.

Softly, you move back over to sit on the edge of the bed, offering him your support in any way you can.

"Why are you-" he swallows thickly, voice barely above a whisper as he stares at his hands in his lap. "Why are you with me?"

To say his question catches you off guard would be a tremendous understatement.

You blink. "What do you mean?"

Briefly, his gaze darts upwards before falling back to his hands. "You could be with anyone you want. So, why are you with me?"

"Jongho, I still don't follow." You shake your head.

His eyes squeeze shut, and you see a single tear fall down his cheek.

"Don't you want someone..." he chokes on his breath, "skinnier."

You cannot hide the appal on your face.

"I know Hwa and Yunho would jump at the opportunity to date you." His voice is small, but loud enough to cut through the deadly silence that befalls the room. "Hell, even Joong would be a better match."

"Bear Bear, what are you talking about?" The furrow to your brow deepens. "Why would I want them when I have you?"

"But I'm not-"

"Did somebody say something to you?" You cannot hide your worry, tone coming out a little firmer than you intend.

He shakes his head, still avoiding your gaze. "I was reading some of the fan's comments again, and all of them were saying how I'm so much bigger than the other guys."

Your brow quirks. "That's not a bad thing."

"Everywhere I go, I'm always surrounded by these super skinny and super fit idols, and I just can't help but compare myself to them." He admits, curling in on himself once again as his shoulders deflate.

You reach over to grab his hand in your own.

"I, of all people, know how hard it can be to ignore people when they make comments like that." You squeeze his hand assuringly. "The people that know and love you appreciate you for you, Jongho. We don't care what you look like. You've never cared about the things people say about me regarding why you shouldn't be with me, so you shouldn't listen to what they say about you. You are worth so much more than your appearance, and if stupid, shallow, jealous people cannot see that, then that's their loss."

Finally, he spares a glance upwards at you, tilting his chin to meet your gaze.

"You are so, unbelievable handsome, Bear Bear," you reach over to wipe a tear from his cheek, noticing how he leans slightly into your touch. "No matter what you look like."

Softly, he nods, reaching over and practically falling into your embrace as he wraps his arms around you.

"You should never compare yourself to others, it's the quickest way to form doubts and get inside your own head." Comfortingly, you brush your fingers through his hair. "There is not a part of you that I am not in love with. I love how strong you are, and I love feeling your arms wrapped around me, holding me close."

He tightens his grip.

"I love your thighs," you chuckle at this, feeling him smile against your neck as he buries his face into it. You just know he's remembering all of the times you've went feral for them in the past, leaving him with marks only you get to see. "I know for a fact I'm not the only one does. You should see what some of your fans write about them. Gives me too many ideas."

You can tell he's getting shy, for he buries himself deeper into your neck.

"I love your body, Bear Bear," you squeeze him tighter. "It's always been, and always has been, perfect for me."

A tear lands on your shoulder, but you have a sneaking suspicion it's for an entirely different reason now.

"You may be thick, Jongho, but it most certainly is not a bad thing." You continue. "Besides," your eyes flash as you pull away to meet his gaze, a devious grin tugging at your lips, "I love me a man who could break me in half."