#it’s not alive it’s not a real animal it doesn’t have fucking feelings and it exists to help the cops kill us

[howlsofbloodhounds]

HELLO!!!!!! I have a question about a dynamic between Horror and Killer!

Do you think Killer and Horror have a bittersweet friendship/acquaintance? Horror disagrees with Killer killing his Papyrus, but Horror still tries to be somewhat civil and polite? What would Killer think of Horror?

I don’t think Killer would care much about Horror’s opinions on what he did or did not do to Papyrus, same as he wouldn’t care to listen to Murder either.

I think Horror and Murder would view Killer as extremely cold when it comes to Papyrus, often saying whatever he can—no matter how harsh it seems—to direct away from the topic or shut it down completely. His usual things, like how it’s not his fault Papyrus was weak.

He’d refuse to acknowledge or take responsibility for that, wouldn’t debate any of the morals of that, and would in fact turn it around and call both Horror and Murder out on what they did to their own brothers if they kept pushing him on the topic.

He wants to make it seem like he doesn’t care. Not about anything, not about anyone—including Papyrus, who has always been a chip in that genuine belief of his. Wants to make it clear that his emotions can’t be appealed to, can’t be used to control him or make him weak—that just because Sans cared about Papyrus doesn’t mean he does.

If that’s a topic they try to press on and don’t let up, I can see Killer immediately doing whatever he has to (and is allowed to by Nightmare) to put them back in their place. Same way he did to Swap—whatever makes them stop, shut up, and leave him alone.

However, if they don’t do anything to provoke him, I can definitely see Killer being welcoming to Horror. If you go with the idea of Bad Sans Gang and Killer being Nightmare’s right hand, it’d be his responsibility to take care of them and keep them alive; regardless of if that’s what they want or not.

So Killer would likely show Horror the ropes if he’s new, explain the rules in his apathetic, detached, sarcastic manner. Because if Horror fucks something up, then Killer’s gonna have to deal with it.

He’d view Horror as something new to study, would probably show an interest in the possibility of if having his eye stolen might’ve affected his soul and its codes.

He’d of course want to study and bargain for access to Horror’s soul if there was anything he found interesting about it, regardless of however that makes Horror feel. But he probably wouldn’t feel much drive to pursue that avenue if 1. there’s really not anything interesting about Horror’s soul or codes (and therefore he has no use to Killer), and 2. there’s a risk of endangering and killing Horror, since the boss needs him alive.

Killer would probably take his duties to ensuring Horror’s life, health, and functionality are up to Nightmare’s standards—if beyond that. Not because he personally cares about if Horror lives or not, or if Horror wants to die or not (he’s gonna live until Nightmare says he can die), but because it’s his responsibility. A part of the role he has to play.

How Horror feels about Killer—especially if you go with the idea of a cannibal Killer, and even the possibility of Killer utilizing his Reset ability and his own body to ensure that Horror is eating well enough—is probably a different story.

Ultimately, if Horror doesn’t knowingly or continually poke at Killer’s buttons and attempt to provoke him, Killer would approach and treat Horror like one would a curious experiment or an animal in his care, even if he holds some awareness that Horror and Murder aren’t animals and this isn’t coming from a place of cruelty or hatred.

They still aren’t anything real to him, though. They’re responsibilities he is obligated to, but running on scripts still.

[ragingcitrustree]

The shittiest thing about these things is that you can’t trust them ever. Eventually there will be a robot that people love and spend time with and it will be surveilling us constantly. Streaming information back to the people that control it. It will snitch on us and I hope we’re smart enough to never ever allow it anywhere near sensitive information at least. What I really hope is that we break it as soon as we find it and never let it into our hearts.

For future reference

[bobafetts-princess]

What Were You Thinking?

Summary: After saving civilians on a mission, Logan is furious that you almost died. (You didn’t almost die) He reminds you that he needs you in the most Logan-esque way possible.

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Logan gets rough. Hair pulling, ass slapping, biting, Logan doesn’t handle his woman getting hurt very well. Dirty talk. Scott is annoying. Logan goes soft after he finishes.

A/N: If you’ve seen this on ao3, I’m the same person! I edited this so it’s a little different from my ao3 version. I like this a little more tbh.

The mission was successful. Everyone made it out alive and with minimal scratches. Well, everyone except you. You’d thrown yourself on top of civilians, trying to shield them from harm. You were a bontanokinetic, the ability to control plants, but you also had advanced healing. So even though you sustained major injuries from the bomb that went off 20 feet from you, all the civilians were safe and you were almost healed. You’d covered the civilians with plants and tree roots but only had time to cover your upper body before the blast went off. You took some debris full force, leaving you with deep cuts. Most of the them were healed by now, only the deepest still scars.

You weren’t sure that the civilians safety mattered to your boyfriend, Logan, as much as it did to you though. He always had so much adrenaline after a mission. He usually dragged you to the back of the plane and fucked you senseless to work it off. He would fuck you double when he got ahold of you this time, his fear taking the forefront. He wanted to fuck you to make sure you were real. Make sure you were safe in his arms and stuffed with his cock. He did the same when he had nightmares about you hurt or killed. He usually woke you, cock nudging at you, until he was sure you were awake. He’d plunge inside, fucking you until he was sure it had been a dream. Just a nightmare. It wasn’t real. Being buried deep inside you was the best way for Logan to bring himself back to reality. And boy, you’d fucked up this time. You were in for the most animalistic version of Logan there was.

“Are you alright?” Charles asked, hand soft on the inside of your elbow. You nodded at him, appreciative of the concern in his voice. They all knew what was to come and while they knew Logan would never hurt you, they always checked on you, to be sure you could handle him.

“LILLY.” You heard a deep voice shout your moniker and you turned towards it. Logan was striding towards you, lit cigar hanging out of his mouth. You rolled your eyes, you were fine, no one dead, the big bad in custody. He didn’t speak again until he reached you, grasping you roughly by the arm.

“What were you thinking?” He snarled, animal inside him beginning to take over.

“I was thinking I was saving some civilian lives.” You responded dryly, annoyed at his reaction. This was your job. Saving people from evil. There was always a risk with it. He needed to get over it. He began tugging you towards the helicopter, all the other mutants clearing out of your way as he thundered along.

“You could have gotten yourself KILLED.” He growled, spinning so that you were chest to chest. Even in your irritation with him you still reveled in the feel of his hard body against your softer one. He looked down on you, hazel eyes hard but laced with concern.

“I’m fine Logan, I heal nearly as fast as you do. It’s a scratch now.” You assured him, placing your hands on his chest. You moved his hands to your tattered jumpsuit leg, showing him the pretty pink scar that would disappear within the hour. His fingers trailed the puckered flesh, still sensitive from healing.

“You could have DIED.” He reiterated. His mouth crashed to yours, cigar in his hand now. His other hand grabbed the back of your neck to anchor you in place. A fire started to burn in your body and you couldn’t wait to get back to the plane. To let Logan work his frustrations and fears out, using you. You decided not to argue this time, to let him take what he needed. “I’m not losing you.” He said, his voice softer, but still a low and threatening rumble throughout his chest.

“Hey good job Lil!” A voice shouted at you from across the wreckage. “You saved the day out there. The way you handled all that debris being thrown at you? Amazing. You almost died! It was an intense moment.” Scott laughed, clapping you on the shoulder even though you were still chest to chest with Logan. The motion knocked you into him and it broke the calm over the two of you. Logan hardened, features distorted with annoyance and anger. He shot Scott a glare, mouth curling into a snarl. Scott knew that you were a sensitive spot for Logan so he’d take any opportunity to dig at Logan. Scott had never gotten over Logan’s little crush on Jean, even after the two of you had gotten together. So when the opportunity to push Logan’s buttons arose, Scott would always take it.

It didn’t make sense, he wasn’t reaping any rewards, except for keeping Logan away from Jean. Which hadn’t been an issue in at least a year and if you were being honest with yourself, wasn’t entirely Logan’s fault in the first place. The feeling had been mutual between them but Scott had a tough time seeing it that way.

Logan hauled you over his shoulder, cigar back in his mouth as he stalked towards heli-carrier that housed the X-Men on their trip back from a mission.

“Don’t you think you’re being dramatic?” You asked and only got an angry grunt in return.

“Don’t you think nearly getting yourself killed is a little dramatic?” He snapped as he walked up the ramp.

When Logan got dominant like this, it brought out his animalistic side and you ended up covered in his marks. He found your room, a shared one, and shut and locked the door behind him.

He flopped you down on the small bed, releasing himself from his uniform quicker than usual. He always went commando so he was standing before you completely naked before you even had a chance to blink. You moved to get yours off but he beat you to it, tearing the uniform with his bare hands. Charles was not going to be happy about having to replace yours, again. Logan did the same with your bra and underwear and while you thought he was being a touch ridiculous, it was also hot.

You were in for it rough this time. He was high on adrenaline, pissed, and worried. He didn’t hardly take any time to prep you, but it didn’t matter. You were so wet at the manhandling that when he thrust two fingers in you it wasn’t enough, you needed more. He replaced his fingers with his cock giving you enough time to adjust so he wouldn’t hurt you. You could hear his heavy breathing from above you, his nostrils flaring as he exercised every inch of his control. When you were ready for him you told him so and he gave you a few sharp thrusts to make sure. Logan wasn’t a small man in that area, thick and long, so he had to make sure you were ready.

Once he decided you were he started a brutal and relentless pace that only Logan could keep up with for an extended period of time. Your body heated at his dominance, the way that he chased his own release without worrying about yours. But that’s because he knew you would come either way. Your hand traveled down your body, reaching for your clit to give yourself a little extra pleasure. Before you could, your hands were pushed away, stretched out above your body as Logan’s fingers circled around it instead. His body was warm against yours, his thrusts hard and unending. His thumb circled the nub, his teeth marking your breasts. The pressure he put on your clit was intense and you pushed closer and closer to orgasm. His grunts and groans were increasing in volume and he sounded like a wild man, a caged animal. Your body ached for your orgasm, you could almost taste it, so when he bent to bite on your nipple you lost it. Screaming and clenching around him, your hips met his thrust for thrust until it was over.

Once you came down, he pulled out, flipping you onto your stomach. He crawled up your body, entering you again this time, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking your head backwards. The arch in your back allowed him deep, his balls slapping your clit with each thrust. He bent to bite his way across your neck and shoulder, pushing you closer and closer to another orgasm.

“Think again, little girl, before you try to sacrifice yourself when I’m around.” He grunted, smacking your ass to emphasize his point. His name was falling from your lips, punctuated only by your groans. His words were the only reminder about why he was fucking you like this. Even though you didn’t sacrifice yourself, it felt like it to him. Your hands were braced on the bed, but he grabbed them one by one, not releasing your hair. He pinned them behind your back and held them down. You were at his mercy, you were his toy. You didn’t have the strength to get him off of you but you didn’t want to. You loved when he pinned you. Made you helpless for him. This was your favorite way to get fucked by Logan, hard, rough, and fast. Your second orgasm was building, and when Logan bit down on your right shoulder you fluttered around him. His bites got rougher when he got closer and he usually broke skin when he came.


“Fuck. I’m gonna come in this sweet pussy.” He told you, teeth catching your ear and smelling your hair, his secret kink. He loved the way you smelled when you were turned on. His sense of smell was so strong that your sex pheromones always pushed him over the edge. You always knew he was close when he did this and you knew if you wanted to come a second time you’d have to work for it. But you were surprised when he let go of your hair and moved to focus on your clit instead. His circles the little bud, increasing his pressure with each pass. Before you knew it you were screaming your release, clamping down on his cock. It triggers his own orgasm and he roars, thrusting to the hilt and sinking his teeth in your shoulder hard enough to break skin. He empties himself into you, cock twitching in tune with your pussy pulsing.

“Fuck. That was fucking good.” He growled in your ear, rubbing his face against your hair to soak up your scent. He releases your arms, pulling you upright against him. “Don’t scare me like that again. I don’t want to lose you.” He admits. You nodded, your body aching from the marathon his body had put you through. He spun you, kissing you gently. “I love you.” He grunts, letting his softer side show. The two of you get dressed, stealing kisses and touches between layers of clothes. When you walk out to join the others, the bite marks Logan had left on you were only small scars, save the one that broke skin. It was red but healing, barely visible under your top.

Everyone eyes Logan warily, wondering if he’d worked out all his anger. He lays a hand softly on your hip, kissing your temple and you could feel the welcome sigh of relief from everyone else.

“Are we ready to go?” He asks, strapping you into your seat before he straps himself in. Charles nods at Scott and Storm and they start to take off.

[sutorus]

✰ HC: BEING IN A SITUATIONSHIP WITH THE JJK F*CKBOYS

DESCRIPTION: my hcs on what it’d be like to be in a situationship/fwb situation with the jjk men hehe

FEATURED: gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. fem + afab reader, this is fully self indulgent i'm just taking my own shiddy experiences and coping via hot anime men, suggestive content/smut, pretty standard manwhore behavior, slightly toxic, not wholesome, kinda crack tbh, some mentions of degradation as a kink, objectifying women, just like the real thing lol!

A/N: LONG BUT READ! this will Not have an ending where you get together at least not rn these are just my hcs all in good fun ur just having fun ok ur not heartbroken everything is okay. they are not good boys here they are normal regular boys

GOJO SATORU

has way too many hoes. way too many

so much so that he gave up on remembering their names and just saves their numbers like “osaka w the hand kink”, “big tits shibari”, “slut from trig”, “hostess best bjs”

has someone’s boobs with his name written on them in sharpie as his wallpaper

says i love you when he cums inside and you never know if you should believe it

throws you off when he agrees to meet your friends only for him to flirt with them in front of you

takes you to the best clubs with bottle service, lets the girls sit on his lap and laughs when you get mad

pays for your ubers everywhere every time

into the weirdest shit like wearing your underwear laughing like a lunatic the whole time he’s fucking you then after he cums gets sulky and embarrassed

lays it on thick with the pet names, gives zero fucks if that confuses you even further

very public with you and it makes you wonder how many other girls put themselves through this humiliation just for the d

gets jealous about you being with other people and needs to prove himself by eating it from the back or something

fwb with gojo is just a huge mindfuck honestly he doesn’t take anything seriously and this is no different sorry! it’s fun tho!

GETO SUGURU

keeps it extremely platonic because he likes to tell himself he has a conscience

too busy for regular chit chat ignores your texts all day then hits you up when he wants to fuck

even more of a whore than gojo is which is why he makes sure not to lead anyone on he just does not need the trouble

answers all your personal questions about him with one word answers

he lets you choose the movie for netflix and chill at least! but will never remember it or the fact that it’s your favorite :(

cleans you up after sex and brings you water

has female hygiene products in his bathroom which is both a red and a green flag

lets you stay after sex and you just lay there on his bed watching him do stuff on his computer but he will not be talking to you

never calls you baby or anything when he’s fucking you just goes oh fuck yeah right there fuuuuck your pussy

genuinely respects you and has nice decent sex with you unless you tell him that you’re kinky

in which case he fucks you just how you want it and gets off on how turned on you are

not one of those guys who gets jealous of sex toys and holds the wand on your clit for you

likes to make you cum over and over and over again

fwb with geto makes your heart clench because he’s just such a gentleman but you got way too much competition to even think about it

NANAMI KENTO

a professional in every sense of the word

uses sex as stress relief

thinks he's too old for this shit but you make him feel alive so he fucks you like he can empty all of his frustrations into you

invites you to his apartment serves you expensive liquor and lets you initiate things most times unless he’s too pent up

can actually have very nice conversations with you

never has the “what are we talk” because he makes it clear he’s too busy for a relationship

lets you spend the night if it’s too late but solely for your safety/logistics

does your taxes for you but will not call you anything beyond an “acquaintance”

texts you happy holidays but does not know when your birthday is

gets tested consistently even though he’s not fucking anyone else and always uses a condom unless you beg him not to

eats you out because he thinks it’s relaxing and spends hours prepping you

the sexual tension is soooo thick when you two fuck all you can hear is grunts and growls and moans and wet slapping sounds and it’s so hot

has some random turn ons like gets bricked up when you’re wearing lipstick or stockings

fwb with nanami is very enjoyable and easy it’ll get complicated if you develop feelings because he does not want to date but who cares yolo am i right

FUSHIGURO TOJI

broke ass deadbeat dad why are you into him

absolutely nasty sex

you know if he had a girlfriend he’d respect her too much to do the things he does to you

dick game so bomb that you’re scared he’s gonna give you a child even when he’s wearing a condom

wants to fuck you every way he possibly can on every fuckable surface with zero regard for your physical integrity

eats his cum right out of you

ego is so big, grins so wide and fucks you so hard when you stroke his muscles

loves to eat pussy but only after he’s fucked you because he likes it tight and hot with minimal prep

doesn’t follow you on any social media but jerks off to your instagram pics

has like 3 different phone numbers and you don’t know why

has only let you come over once, didn’t let you shower after

no pet names but calls you a dirty whore and other degrading shit

loves it if you cry on his dick

doesn’t give a fuck about your safety sorry you’re on your own

has never told you his last name

one time you asked to see a picture of his son and he didn’t speak for 3 whole minutes

fwb with toji is the nastiest sex you’ve ever had truly it’s just sinful and everyone’s dark hidden fantasy half of it you couldn’t tell your closest friends because it’s just too much

a/n sorry

[itoshiexx]

wonder

synopsis: sae wondered what it was like to be loved by you.

pairing: itoshi sae x gn!reader | words: 800 | warnings: established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, sae is stupidly in love with u

notes: why hello! i'm barely alive! i know i kinda disappeared but i was struggling with personal issues and my mental health, so i didn't really have creativity to write. i'm not sure i like this either, but i couldn't let sae bae's bday go by without posting anything. also this is slightly inspired by the song "wonder - shawn mendes". thank you for your love and patience! <3

masterlist

there are certain things itoshi sae would never admit. like the way he loved calm walks at the beach or how seagulls were his favorite animal. how he secretly regret hurting his little brother’s feelings when he was a stupid teenager. how his life was way lonelier than the world could even imagine, making him hate the walls of his oh so empty apartment.

mostly, he would never admit he wondered what it was like to be loved — not just by anyone, though, but to be loved by you.

he’s not sure when it started. he can’t pinpoint the exact moment his heart began beating faster and his black and white world was filled with color, but he does know that, inevitably, it all comes back to you, like you’re some sort of big bang that created his whole existence. itoshi sae doesn’t think he was actually himself before he became yours.

if you ask him, he’d say it’s a bit pathetic, really. he was never a guy that cared about romance, and he definitely didn’t believe in the concept of a love that could sweep you off your feet, like the hollywood movies desperately tried to sell. perhaps one of the reasons he liked you so much was because you managed to prove him wrong, and not many people were able to do that. 

sae was usually right. but you, in his life — that was even more right than his stupid beliefs. 

“sae, i need to get up,” your voice breaks him from his stupor, and, instinctively, his hold on your waist tightens. it’s some sort of protection, he thinks. not to you, but to protect him from the pain of having you stray away. 

(he never wants to let go).

the football player twists his body to trap you even further on the mattress, burying his face on your chest and tangling his legs with yours. your giggle reverberates through his whole body and brings warmth to his cheeks. his heart flutters, and he can’t even find it in him to hate it. 

you must have put a spell on him, he concludes.

“i’m serious. i need to make breakfast,” you say again when he doesn’t answer.

“don’t wanna.”

“you don’t want breakfast?”

“nuh-uh.”

you giggle again, and this time, you seem to give in, relaxing your body and welcoming him in your embrace. sae can only sigh in satisfaction when you card your fingers through his reddish-brown locks, relishing in the peace only you seem to be able to give him.

“i wonder what people would think if they knew how clingy the all mighty itoshi sae can be,” the teasing lit in your tone doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and you earn a scoff.

“shut up,” he quips, although there’s no real bite in it. “you love me.”

and you must not be from this world, because it’s easy — the way you pick up on any slight nuance of his voice or demeanor. it’s so fucking easy for you to read him like an open book and to give the reassurance he so desperately needs; albeit unaware. 

your voice becomes impossibly soft, “i do, baby. i love you so much.”

you kiss his forehead, and after wandering around for so long, sae thinks he’s finally home. 

for a while, you two just stay there, in bed, wrapped in each other in a way you can’t know where he starts and where you end. the thought of being one with you makes him happy, but that’s just another item in his long list of things he would never admit. 

your sweet voice breaks the silence. 

“we’re gonna be in bed all day?” there’s nothing but pure curiosity in your voice. no judgment — you never judge him, despite the way he deserves it sometimes. the thought makes his chest tighten with the amount of love he has harbored just for you.

sometimes he thinks he’s too small for it, and he’s scared all this love will overflow and consume him whole. though, it’s even scarier to think he wouldn’t mind: sae is yours. you can have all that he has and all that he is. 

“just a little longer,” he whispers, a little more vulnerable than he would like. but it’s okay. it’s always okay when it’s you. “please?”

you hum in agreement, continuing to caress his hair. 

“of course. whatever the birthday boy wants.”

sae allows himself to close his eyes and bask in your warmth, on the safety that you so effortlessly gave him. by smelling your perfume, he’s filled with gratitude for all the times he wondered what it was like to be loved by you.

“happy birthday, love.”

he’s glad he doesn’t have to wonder anymore.

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[thatlittlered]

i want you | logan howlett

warning(s): afab!reader if you really squint, cursing, immense and unbelievable heartbreak, spoilers for Logan (2017)

GIF by anonymous

author's note: I'm back where I came from writing x-men fanfiction and naming chapters after songs, life has truly come full circle. I could sit here and write some smut, talk about how much I want lick Logan (Hugh Jackman in general) from head to toe, OR I could break all of our hearts so guess what I chose :)

This is going to be a series so let me know if you want to be tagged.

-.-.-

It’s embarrassing; shameful, but he needs to have something.

Charles has to know about this little habit, somewhere in his few moments of clarity.

It’s practically morning when he comes back from work, but the water is running. He lingers; he always lingers when he realizes it’s you behind that door. He tells himself it’s typical animal behavior, he’ll guard you like the dog he is.

Today he’s not even good at that. His legs can’t hold him up any longer.

His feet take him to your room.

It’s probably the only part of this godforsaken place that smells nice. Almost feels like a real home in here, with your fresh cotton sheets and plush comforter. He won’t sully them, so he sits on the floor instead – a proper dog.

He should just fucking die already. Just send you off to a better life and die.

It’s what he deserves and long overdue.

You wouldn’t leave him though, and you most definitely wouldn’t leave Charles, or to be exact, what measly bits are left of both of them.

What a fucking waste.

You find him asleep there. Exhaustion took over when he leaned back against your bedframe, yet his body doesn’t seem at rest. Where can peace be found if not in sleep?

You sit next to him, now clad in soft pajamas and he’s already awakened by the smell of your shampoo before you call out to him.

“Logan?”

He blinks once, twice.

Even his eyes are not working properly these days. Always a little out of focus.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

He gives a half-grunt and moves to get up, but a brave hand on his thigh stops him. He surrenders to your insistence and the warmth of your fluffy carpet under him.

“I’m fine, just tired.”

“Of course, you are. You never sleep.”

He doesn’t answer.

“You can take my bed if the problem is the mattress.”

You watch him pinch his nose. Can’t be sure if he’s annoyed at you or himself.

“It’s not the fucking mattress, sweetheart, alright? I’m rotting from the inside out, no bed on earth can change that.”

You don’t quite know what to say to that.

It’s no secret to any of you that Logan has been struggling as of lately. He won’t speak of it, won’t ask for help. He's Atlas and the world is slipping.

“Did you need something?”

He doesn’t look you in the eye anymore, you notice.

“I was just checking up on you with how much time you spend in the shower. What do you even do in there?”

“I like it. It makes me feel normal.”

Logan merely hums in response. His hand reaches for the flask inside his pocket in a well-practiced motion.

“Is that whiskey?”

Of course it is.

You can make out his little smirk in the dim lighting. The odd little bit of humanity left in him that you always seem to attract. The tenderness they’ve tried time after time to rid him of.

“Can I have some?”

He watches you drink and lick your lips clean; admires your little frown at the taste. Decades alive and you’ll never grow used to it.

Your hands brush as you hand it back—an intentional act on your part—and he jumps. A shiver runs through him when it turns into a caress. Your hands are so much softer, so much gentler. A feather touch on his knuckles where the pus has begun to gather.

He should just fucking die.

“You should cut down on your hours. I can get a job, something part-time.”

His laugh is angry. It’s cruel and unnecessary.

He doesn’t mean to make you feel bad, but what does it matter?

“No need, bub. No point in it either.”

“You can’t go on like this, you know that.”

He drinks and drinks until the flask is almost empty.

“You should go somewhere else entirely; somewhere they won’t find you easily. Maybe your trouble will be worth something there.”

Maybe you’ll even have a life there.

“Is that what you think? That I’m here out of necessity?”

Logan chuckles, but there’s no humor in it.

“That’s why we’re all here, doll, but you- it could work. You should leave.”

Leave him. Never look back.

“It won’t. I won’t – I can’t.”

Something invisible tugs at his heart. Your glassy eyes, your loyalty.

Argos waited for Ulysses till death. For which master do you endure?

“For what? For whom, Charles? He’s barely even himself anymore, he doesn’t recognize you half the time. What’s the point?”

“So, he’s right, you’re just waiting for him to die.”

He falls silent again. The words cut deep.

“What about you, Logan?”

“What about me?”

“I should just leave you behind?”

It can’t be the heat, it has to be the alcohol, but the air is getting thicker in here.

He practically tears his suit jacket off. He’s usually nicer than this, always respectful of your efforts. The neat way you iron his shirts. Your ways of taking care of him.

The booze has started to get to him lately, as every other thing. He feels it now as it slurs his mind and speech. A shadow of his former self in every way.

It makes it even harder to look at you.

“I’m dead fucking weight. If you knew what’s right for you, you’d run and never look back at this shithole… you certainly don’t need me either.”

“I don’t stay because I need you, Logan. I stay because I love you.”

It’s hard to breathe. There’s unease in the way he holds your gaze and he almost looks small for a second. It doesn’t last. He’s quickly an animal again, now wounded and hurting. His growl is sign enough.

“Don’t say that.”

“Logan-”

You reach for his hand, but he doesn’t let you. He tries to stand up. His legs don’t listen.

What a pathetic excuse of a man he’s become.

You reach for him again when he lands back on your floor.

His voice is small and quiet, “Shit, sweetheart. You can’t fucking say that to me.”

He’s practically shaking in anger. Or sadness. Whatever this is, it’s overwhelming.

It’s easy to give up and lean into you; face landing on the softness of your middle.

“You can’t-you can’t say that to me.”

He can hear your heartbeat so clearly, it’s almost deafening when he presses his ear to your stomach. Everything hurts.

“I love you.”

You see his eyes close gently.

He wants to lose all his other senses, if only for this moment, if only to focus solely on the softness of your skin. The gentleness of your fingers when they gather in his hair.

“It’s okay, Logan.”

He only looks up when you take his face in your hands. You can feel his breath on you. All you can do is look at each other. His hand comes up to your shirt and lifts it, just enough for his lips to touch there – just this once.

He only needs this one thing and he’ll be good for the rest of his pitiful, miserable life.

“I have things I need to do.”

You only nod.

You offer your hand, but he doesn’t take it, drags himself upwards instead. The moment of weakness has passed.

“I’m going out. You should get some rest, don’t forget to lock the door.”

There is no point in arguing or asking where he’s going. He needs to be away from you.

“I won’t.”

He nods back at you, but avoids your eyes as he leaves. He’ll sleep in the car tonight.

Just this one little thing might be enough.

[gaymurdersalad]

[ HOWDY Y’ALL! WE INTERRUPT THIS PROGRAM FOR A FUN BROADCAST!

If you haven’t noticed, it’s pride month! That means we’re legally allowed to be gay for an entire month before we have to disappear into our burrows once more! To celebrate the occasion, I decided to do a fun little pride post! ]

[ I’ve gathered all the little fuckers in The Void to poke and prod at them like zoo animals. In other words, I figure they all have some neat identities and wouldn’t mind being interrogated in honor of pride month. I’ll go ahead and turn it over to them, but I’ll say now, no matter how much they kick and scream, I am definitely NOT holding them at gunpoint! This workspace is… definitely OSHA approved. Don’t let them tell you otherwise. Have attem! ]

> This is fucking stupid. Stop waving that gun at me. I’m talking.

> My identity isn’t anything special. I’m just some guy who decided he was a guy way later than everyone else did. I don’t really give a damn what pronouns people use on me because usually they just end up avoiding me at all costs or scampering away like frightened animals.

> I’m bisexual, is that anything? But, like, only bisexual in a sexual way. I could not fucking fathom living a long prosperous life with anyone. How the hell are you supposed to enjoy someone for that long? Getting married seems like a scam. I bet it is. I bet it’s like the invention of Valentine’s Day for greeting card companies. You’re not actually supposed to be in love with someone for that long, it just doesn’t seem possible.

> … My marriage with Dave does not count, that wasn’t an officiated wedding. I’m fairly certain he fished those rings out of a water fountain and pawned his dress off a hooker. I do vividly recall dumpster diving for my tuxedo.

> Uhhhhhh wuh? Hmmmm, I’onno what the hell I am, Old Sport! Fuck!

> Shit, I guess I like everyone. A hole’s a hole. Why the fuck would I discriminate? I think I got a preference for men though! They’re so fuckin’ easy to romance! Unless they’re the likes of Sportsy, then it’s the hardest goddamn thing you’ll ever seduce. He gets real gay when he’s on acid, but then again, I get real gay on cocaine. Man, our wedding was immaculate. Imma tell our kids about it one day!

> Likewise, I’ll be any gender you fuckin’ want me to be. I got like, pocket gender, I can just whip it out on request. Want me to be a dude? Fuck yeah, alright. Want me to be a pretty lady? No goddamn problem at all! I can be both at the same time or one more than the other— who gives a shit? I’m just havin’ fun.

> Good fucking lord, really? That shotgun does not scare me, you orange fool—

> … I have a complicated identity. As any other living organism does.

> I have found that over the years I do not experience sexual attraction and that I experience little to no romantic attraction. I only recall feeling romantically attracted to one person in my entire life. I doubt it will happen again. > And it may seem, uhm... Embarrassing, but I do deviate from your traditional "man's man". In laymen's terms, I do not feel particularly drawn to being male. I am very certain I was born with the intention of being a man, but my mind has refused to accept it. I am not sure why. Instead of feeling like a proper bloke, I feel rather empty. If I could have it my way, I would be some... human silhouette rather than a full fledged man. I do not know. This is idiotic. > I cringe every time someone addresses me in a masculine way. I wish I could simply have no pronouns. I can deal with them because I am indeed a grown ass... person, but I just wish it were not so. Whatever. I am done complaining.

> Oh! That’s very simple, this is really easy.

> I literally don’t have anything going for me at all.

> What with the entire fabric of time being on my shoulders and all, I don’t even think about gender or romance much. I do love being a girl! It’s one of the things I miss most about being alive, actually. Pretty dresses, playing with makeup in the bathroom, trying to curl my hair without burning my scalp— I mean, it sounds horrendous sometimes, but you can’t beat it. Feeling alive and content in your own skin. Just one of those precious things that spawned from the chance of life.

> … Uhm, Uhhh… Men.

> Yeah. I Like Them. I Think… Yes, I Could Probably Date A Man Or Two. I Don’t Know, Employee, Why Did You Pull Me Out Here? You Know I Have Copious Paperwork To Do! Some @$!# $#*@ Kid Just Fell Into The Ball Pit And Got Mauled Jaws-Style And His Parents Are Really Grilling Us For It. Dumb&@#*s, It’s Not My Fault Their Kid Heeded The Call Of The Sirens. I Swear, This Job Is Going To Kill Me Or Force My Hand Into Becoming The Next Purple Guy—

> extremely in love with my wife and my gender!

> it was actually very cute how we met, employee. have i ever told you? heh heh, we met in highschool. she was on the football team and i was a cheerleader, can you believe that? oh, i was head over heels for her instantly. she was strong, she was quick thinking, she was so hecking beautiful, employee… i never got to tell her how i felt while we were in highschool, but we were good friends. very good friends. come a few years later, some old buddies of ours want to have a get together and dish it out like old times… go vandalize and drive off into the sunset in the back of a pickup truck sipping on horrendously cheap beer and laughing off our university work or our jobs. when i get to our spot, though, i see her. i’d recently wised up to my gender, y’know, had my hair cut and fresh scars on my chest, so suffice to say i looked nothing like i did when i cheered for her during football season. she’d done the same, employee— she grew out her hair to the middle of her back in such beautiful dark curls, her bangs tied back so every inch of her perfect face could glimmer underneath the neon lights of the derelict bowling alley we’d found ourselves in. she looked at me, and i sensed instant recognition. she smiled through her bright red lipgloss and rushed up to me, wrapping me up in a hug, and i swear, she hadn’t lost any of those muscles— almost broke my ribs!

> the rest of the night, we were so… comfortable together. sure, during highschool we were close, but without saying a single word about what happened to us between then and now, we understood, and employee— i think it brought us closer. it was around three in the morning while we sat around a bonfire with the rest of our buddies when she layed her head on my shoulder and i felt an unfathomable warmth. i knew i wanted her for the rest of my life.

> … i just love her so much, employee.

> oh ok

> its rlly whatever. any pronouns any gender anybody who wants me. who cares

> oh i do have a preference for girls. theyre pretty. if you disagree u are not blessed enough to be loved by gods best creation and ur pissed about it. i can tell

> what if i was actually catholic would that be fucked up or what

> …

> … I cannot… physically stress how abhorrent sexuality is to me. What… What an utterly damning notion. Someone’s greedy hands cursing you and plaguing your with their own dirty human desires. How disrespectful. How… invasive. Why on Earth would it be my responsibility to supply someone with something to love? Am I really subject to whatever the hell people think of me? Whether they “love” me or perceive me as some… some man, some object of attraction? Disgusting.

> If I could shed every trace of a sex or gender from my loathed corpse, I would. Often times I lay awake at night and consider skinning myself for the hell of it. I’ve related this to David and he said I sounded “fuckin’ insane”. Stupid bastard. I want to be a skeleton. I wanna be a fucking skeleton! Pretty and thin and not alive whatsoever! God damn this accursed body and its… rancid flesh and unidentifiable mystery goop. Ugh. Ugh!!!! God, the biggest blight on my “life” was being cursed with gender!

> I was born as a female which was just laughably wrong, then I recall amending that and trying to become a man, but none of it worked. All of it sucked. All of it was wretched. The ideal form is a ghost or ghoul or skeletal figure. You can’t romance a ghost or ghoul or skeletal figure. Can’t have sex with that. Unless you’re really, really determined. I don’t think even David could be that serious about his sexuality.

> … I… Hope. Oh dear. Oh god, I really am unsafe from the horrors of this world. God, I wish that bear had taken me out before I showed him to his grave.

[sewerpalette]

Little rant I might make a video out of:

Edit: disclaimer I wrote this directly after waking up so it’s very awkwardly paced and hard to read I’m so sorry.

AL-AN is not a good person, now I’ll start this off with saying that I looove his character, especially before the rewrite and this certainly isn’t an attack on anyone, just something I’d like to point out because I think the shift of perspective between both games is fascinating.

If anyone remembers the subnautica fandom before Below zero was even remotely announced, there were certain opinions flying around, people believed the architects to be the grand villain(s) in the bigger picture of the game lore for just how messed up they were, they literally hated those guys for being at fault of the sea emperors suffering and there were even theories going around that they made the kharaa to wipe out all other life around them- but it had went wrong.

But now it’s not like that anymore, no AL‘s previous actions are completely ignored because he showed some remorse for being responsible for the deaths of 7 architects specifically, together with messing up before pretty much an audience of billions, it must’ve been embarrassing- but when he apologizes he specifically only mentions the other architects, because he isn’t sorry for the other things he’s done, clearly. I mean dissecting a fetus is one thing, especially with their goal in mind, DISPLAYING it is another, like that’s just purposely gruesome. Together with all the other dissected experimented on animals in the shelves just hung up like prizes (I know the concept itself is not inhumane, but in this case it just wasn’t necessary.) also research specimen THETA anyone? Yeah we know it didn’t die because of the facility collapsing because there’s no injury displayed on its bones that would suggest that, and that part of the facilities insides also didn’t collapse, they just left it there until it either succumbed to the virus or starved to death, same with the sea emperor but they survived, kept alive by unfinished business for the next couple thousand years. Not to mention who the fuck comes up with a quarantine program that includes semi sentient killer machines and a giant gun made to shoot anything down from atmosphere, there were so many better solutions, I get the warper thing, I mean kill anything that’s infected makes sense, but the gun?? Literally why, if they send a signal through the network that this planet is diseased nobody is going to go there (we know that at that point humans weren’t advanced enough to travel space and they knew that so for who was that even for??) it was completely unnecessary to create a giant weapon in wich even more destructive weapons are stored wich let me get into that real quick because there’s also some implied stuff there, appearently AL was so desperate to get rid of his mistake that he attempted to blow up a doomsday device?? (Which would’ve destroyed most of the solar system in an instant.) In the entry it says it malfunctioned so they must’ve tried to use it, and even if they didn’t why would they have it on them anyways? Including all the other weapons. Also let’s talk about the architects in the little sanctuaries in the first game, it’s implied they stored multiple souls in like one of them, literally cramped up all their data whilst AL stored himself in a big ass sanctuary like idk man that’s kind of an asshole move. And those were just the first game events! (And there’s probably even more there.)

In BZ he can’t really do anything except for talk to robin because he doesn’t have a physical form, so there’s less to go off here but even then it didn’t seem like there were other sanctuaries in BZ for the other architects. and sure, you could make the arguement that architects don’t feel at all connected to their physical forms, wich is true, but don’t you think seeing a dead architects body, an architect from his team, a colleague, would illicit some kind of emotion from him beyond “great, now fetch me their skin.” (/j) even if he doesn’t see the attachment to the vessel, if it’s all that’s left from that time and from the crew, there would still be projected attachment onto it realistically. Also he was smart enough to hide himself from alterra because he guessed they didn’t have good intentions- scraping himself off the grid both physically and on any radars they had (presumably with hallucinations), but wasn’t smart enough to distract the critters running around infront of the sanctuary to idk get the help he needed with the failing sanctuary from the mercury, marg, or the alterrans that genuinely wanted to help instead of being eaten by sharks right infront of it.

Like man I love you but that’s just messed up.

And we know he knows he messed up, that’s why he’s so gloomy and does attempt to apologize at the end but like??? He said he wanted to make amends to his people showing that he still doesn’t care about everybody else he hurt, only those he deems as important, not the over 150 people that died on the aurora or the mercury or the degasi or the sunbeam or the research specimens or even the alterrans he’s indirectly caused death to, it is all his fault but he doesn’t see these people as important because he feels they are below him - sure you could make the arguement that he didn’t know about the ships that crashed, fair point. But seemingly he did if he could sense that alterra was there without even seeing alterrans in the first place, especially because Ryley has made contact with the thermal plant and other architect tech before, so he’d definitely know- especially based on the data robin has of the missing sunbeam and aurora incident on her PDA wich he has canonically said he read through.

And I’ll say it again I love AL, next to Bart he’s probably my favorite subnautica character in the whole game series, but I don’t like the portrayel of him suddenly being completely redeemed or being an inherently good person, he still doesn’t understand empathy or morals (you can be a good person without having those, don’t get me wrong.) and acts like a total idiot whilst victimizing himself, like yes, the other architects on the mission died and it’s his fault, they weren’t stored to keep him company and that’s his fault; neither did they like him, wich is very fair in my opinion. He can’t pull all this crap, disobey orders and get everybody killed and then pull the “but I’m sad about it so that erases everything I’ve done” like oh my god. I like him, but I would also like more content showing all this.

Sorry this was a very long kinda pointless rant and I don’t have any images because my phone which has like a whole folder of these is at home and we’re still stuck in England so it’ll have to do without for now.

TLDR: I want more morally dubious AL please and also he killed a fetus (well pretty much borderline newborn at that point) so he’s going into the fictional child murderer category for me.

[sister-lucifer]

A Friend in the Alleyway 

Jeff The Killer solo fic 

Summary: After narrowly escaping an altercation with police, Jeff finds an unexpected critter companion 

Genre: Fluff 

Content/Warnings: None unless you count a little profanity on Jeff’s part and a singular, brief mention of blood. it’s a jeff the killer fic don’t be surprised when he. yk. jeff the kills 

Jeff’s ratty old sneakers skidded on the pavement as he stumbled into the alleyway, brain running at a million miles per hour as his body moved faster than he could ever make it go voluntarily. The ground was still wet from that morning’s rain, and the puddles soaked his shoes and socks and splashed up onto his jeans. The sudden sensation of cold water would have been shocking if he could feel anything but panic. He can hardly see anything with only the moon and a few broken street lamps to light the pavement, but he knows every crevice of this city.

He narrowly escaped the police after hastily climbing down the fire escape of an apartment building. His hoodie is splattered with blood and he dropped the knife somewhere on his way here, it doesn’t matter now. He’s a rat scrambling back into its hole in the wall, barely having escaped the clutches of the predator that stalks around the house he’s made a home. He hates this feeling. 

He grasps at his chest as he falls to his knees, collapsing against the wall of one of the buildings making up either side of the alley. His heavy breaths are pushed through yellowed, gritted teeth behind chapped lips that extend into telling scars. They ache when he opens his mouth too far, he’ll have to catch his breath as best he can without panting. 

He can feel his heart thumping behind his ribs through his sweatshirt, threatening to break free from its prison and throw itself to the ground of this filthy ally with a sickening splat and the iron smell of blood. His chest burns with agonizing exhaustion. 

He’s tired. He’s dirty. He’s a mess. He’s terrified.

But he’s alive. 

And he’s free. 

“Holy fuck,” Jeff chokes out, almost laughing to himself. He’s not sure what’s funny. He doesn’t know what else to do. 

Maybe it’s just the absurdity of all of this. Maybe the flood of relief he’s finally able to feel is making him a bit loopy. It doesn’t matter. He’s alive, and he’s free. That’s all he needs to go on another day. 

He allows himself to relax a bit, his legs stretching out only for him to wince as a stinging pain suddenly manifests in his ankle. Shit, did he bust it scaling down that fire escape? 

He silently prays as he rolls up the leg of his jeans, then sighs in relief. No, it’s not broken. Bruised, yes, but nothing that won’t heal on its own. 

Good. He doesn’t have it in him to coerce an urgent care employee tonight. 

He groans to himself in frustration. Frustration at what exactly he doesn’t know, but that’s the only name he can put to his feeling. Maybe it’s a bit of everything. 

He’s frustrated with himself for running like a frightened animal. 

He’s frustrated with those asshole cops for catching him off guard. 

He’s frustrated with all the people in that apartment who get to sleep in a warm bed that belongs to them tonight.  

Dammit, dammit, dammit. 

“Fucking stupid,” He mutters to himself, reaching up to grasp his arm where it hurts. He’s not sure why it hurts or when he injured it. It’s hard to think about what just happened with the adrenaline still clouding his mind. He’ll worry about that when he calms down. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Is all he can say, repeating it to himself for no real reason. It’s the only word rattling around his addled brain. 

He has to pull himself up eventually. He has to leave this alley at some point, he can’t stay here forever, and he’d rather turn himself in than go back to sleeping on the streets. Yet, the idea of even standing at this moment takes far too much energy. 

He groans again, rubbing his eyes. When he pulls his hands away again he blinks a few times, and he flinches back when he sees two glowing eyes watching him from the shadows dancing across the wall opposite to him. 

A surprised noise leaves his mouth before he can stop it, his back pressing hard against the wall of the alley. He squints in the dark, trying to make out what he’s seeing. 

Then the glowing orbs blink, and start to move. His eyes widen as the stalking creature comes forward, padded paws silent against the concrete. It lazily meanders out of the shadows, and he can see now the milky white fur that reflects the soft moonlight and the slit pupils bisecting those bright green irises. 

…A cat. 

It’s a fucking cat. 

He’s on such high alert he was almost scared shitless by a fucking cat.

He scoffs, crossing his arms and scowling at the animal. 

“You little— The hell do you want?” He asks with a roll of his eyes, though he’s not sure why. Not like the cat’s going to give him a response. 

The animal stops a few feet away from him. It sits down on its hind legs, curling its tail over its paws. It stares at him without a sound, as if it were staring right through him. Jeff raises a brow.

“…What? You think I got something for you? Because I don’t,” He hisses, “Fuck off.” 

He reaches down and grabs the first pebble he touches. He hurls it at the opposite wall, losing sight of it in the shadows but hearing it as it hits the bricks then clatters against the roof of a dumpster. It doesn’t even come close to hitting the cat. It wasn’t supposed to. He only wanted to scare it off. 

The cat doesn’t move. 

Its keen eyes follow the stone until it hits the ground, but then it turns back to Jeff. It blinks slowly, its tail now swaying side to side behind it. It meows softly and tilts its head as if asking a question. Too bad Jeff doesn’t understand. 

His expression softens just slightly as he looks the animal over. There’s no collar, no sign of any ownership at all. This cat just wandered out of the shadows of an alleyway. Is anyone taking care of it?

He sits up a bit, tapping the ground between his legs with his nails. 

“Pssst, c’mere,” He says softly, attempting to coax the animal over. It doesn’t move. 

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Yeah, he wouldn’t be super eager to approach him in this state either. 

“Look, I’m sorry for throwing things, will you just come here?” 

The cat considers the offer for a beat before ultimately deciding to accept. It closes the distance between itself and Jeff, sitting between his legs and gazing up at him with those big, green eyes. The reflections in them seem to go on forever, Jeff thinks. He just stares back down at the animal for a few moments, studying its face.

The cat blinks slowly. 

Jeff blinks back. 

The slightest hint of a smile crosses his tired face before melting away again. 

He reaches out towards the creature slowly, trying not to startle it now that it’s close, though the cat doesn’t seem to mind him all that much. He runs a hand down its spine, giving a little scratch to the base of its tail. The cat meows softly before a steady purr starts to rumble in its chest. Jeff chuckles under his breath. 

“Oh, you like that, huh?” He says with a lopsided grin. He moves to scratch under the cat’s chin, prompting it to flop over onto its back, paws in the air and fluffy belly on display. 

“I guess you like that more,” Jeff laughs, putting a hand on the cat’s stomach and playfully jostling it back and forth. His smile widens at the shaky meow it elicits from the creature. For once he doesn’t even think about the ache in his cheeks as his scars contort to accommodate his grin. 

“You’re just a baby, aren’t you?” He wonders aloud, “My hand’s nearly as big as your tummy…”

He moves to gently scoop the animal up, holding it under its front legs and letting gravity pull down its body. He moves it back and forth just to watch its legs swing, and the cat certainly doesn’t seem to mind.

His suspicions are confirmed:

“Oh yeah, yous a little one.” 

The cat meows back at him, its eyes crinkling as its mouth opens to release the sound. Jeff mimics the sound clumsily, his voice gruff but sincere. 

He sets the cat back on the ground, his hand returning to scratch at the base of its tail. The purring only gets louder. It’s like an engine in the little creature’s throat, running on steam and affection. Jeff loves that sound. 

“No collar, no identifying features, no sign of where you came from,” He whispers to himself, though he can tell from the way the cat’s ears perk up it’s certainly listening. It was only a matter of time before Jeff came to the only logical conclusion. 

“…How’d you like to sleep in a warm motel room with me tonight?” 

The cat chirps happily in reply, nuzzling into Jeff’s chest. He gladly accepts the gesture. 

“Good answer.”

The cat sniffs at his hoodie, its nose almost seeming to search for something. It finds it when it notices his hoodie pocket, curiously poking its head inside. Jeff stifles a laugh as the creature pushes itself into the pocket, its face poking out on one side and its tail on the other. It fits, though, and it doesn’t seem to have any intention of moving. Jeff is more than alright with that. 

He cradles the cat in his hoodie pocket as he stands up, looking down at it with one of the first sincere smiles he’s had in a long time. He sighs as he peeks out of the alleyway, making sure the coast is clear and pulling his hood over his head before taking the first steps towards the cheapest motel in the city.

“You know what, cat?” He says, and the animal looks up at him expectantly. 

“…I think we’re gonna get along just fine.”

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

[birdbrainedboy]

I’m obsessed with this show and fear a hyperfixation anyways here are my thoughts on every character in the show

Edwin Paine: forever my favorite, even back before the show when I read the comics! I think it’s funny that basically every man in the show wants him? I’m intrigued by his character arc throughout the story regarding his sexuality as despite dying in 1916, he seems to have had time to slowly become more accepting of gay people (I’m guessing in part due to Charles, who is pansexual), to the point where there’s only mild internalized homophobia if at all, which just exhibits itself in him denying any possible feelings for Monty. I love how face-value and logical he is while still being a sweetheart

Charles Rowland: he has a pan flag pin on his jacket which confuses me bc can ghosts only wear clothes they would’ve worn when they were alive, or how do ghost clothes work? Because he died in 1989 and I’m near positive he didn’t wear that pin back there. Anyways I do love him but I wonder about some design choices, like the one earring (not sure why it just kinda annoys me). That was more a rant abt his design than his character, which I have nothing notable to say abt since I LOVE HIM he’s so real

Crystal Palace: sometimes she was a bit annoying the way she was trying way too hard to pry into everyone’s lives, but honestly that was just momentary annoyance since nothing could make me hate her. I love how her past was slowly revealed (as someone who already knew it from the comics) and how she came to terms with the person she used to be vs the person she is now. She’s so cool!

David the demon: honestly kind of caught me off guard at first bc the person I’m dating is named David but I actually enjoyed his character. LOVED when Crystal dealt with him in the end. He was very interesting

Niko Sasaki: I love Niko, but I have some problems with her character. First of all, I feel like ditsy anime-loving cutesy Asian girl with dyed hair is a weirdly common trope? But whatever my main issue is that it feels like characters who normalize the fetishization of gay men are so common. Like if Niko had been a guy obsessed with lesbian manga evb would be weirded out, so why is it different? If we ignore all of this tho I absolutely adore her and I’m actually praying she’s in the next season bc she was one of my favorites (esp her relationship w Edwin)

Jenny: She is so hot and cool and funny I’m in love with her

Esther: oh my god words cannot come close to describing how much I love her character. She felt powerless and weak in the past and now she’s become obsessed with making sure nobody has that power over her ever again. She was so fun and I loved her attitude! I’m sure she won’t show up next season, as she was the main antagonist of s1, and while I love her, I kind of hope she doesn’t since I think her arc was finished.

Monty: His personality was like 2020 “soft boy” who acts nice and dumb but is lowkey a manipulator. So obviously this kind of made me like ☠️ bc why is he acting like that… but I still love him to bits because he’s just a crow guys he didn’t ask to be human,, Anyways yeah his personality annoys me but also I love him so much so? It’s confusing. ITS COMPLICATED. I will cry if he’s not in s2

Kingham and Litty: I honestly thought they were annoying but I can’t lie they were so fucking funny. Every time they were on screen I laughed.

Cat King: oh my god. He is so camp. I love him. There’s honestly not much to say he is simply iconic. Love how he’s afraid to be alone so chases after other people, he’s so real AGHH I love him

Night Nurse: Ruth Connell the woman you are… 😍 she reminds me of Muriel from Good Omens, in a way, and I love her! I really hope we get to see more of her in relation to the guy in the fish, and see her get to better understand human emotions and why they choose to cling onto the human world rather than pass on!

[bengiyo]

Cherry Magic Anime Ep 1 Stray Thoughts

Yes, you read that correctly. While GMMTV is doing a Thai version of Cherry Magic, Japanese studio Satelight (Fairy Tale, Log Horizon, and more) produced an anime version that just began airing on Crunchyroll. What a time to be alive. My primary hope is for this version to go further than the live action or the movie did. The manga is ongoing, and I’d like to see the parts that haven’t been adapted.

I like how quickly this is breezing through the early stuff. Adachi already knows about his powers and is continuing to be glum. He’s explicitly interested in girls, and I like the character design that has his hair constantly covering his left eye.

Wow, we got through the convenience store, train crowd, and then reached the elevator scene in 2:40.

For those who care, Kurosawa does not yet have yaoi hands.

The intro is decent. It at least lets us know the whole gang is here.

Adachi thinking he’s hallucinating his powers is a good shorthand as he’s figuring out if Kurosawa is for real.

Oh, fuck yes, anime Kurosawa is much hornier in his head.

Wow, we’re also getting to Adachi staying over in the first episode.

The fact that Adachi and Kurosawa like the same manga is actually a really significant detail. I can’t maintain regular friendships, let along romances, if I don’t have much media in common with someone.

Yeah, I’m enjoying how much more explicit Kurosawa’s fantasies are in this version. Here they translate him as saying he bought the pajamas to fantasize about Adachi wearing them.

Oh, Kurosawa, you remain one of my favorite simps.

I’m not like Adachi. I would show up every morning before work if someone else was going to cook a full meal for me.

Oooh, the boss’s coupon for a meal date must have been in the manga since the Thai version captured this too.

An expired coupon on an expensive meat dinner? Pain.

Oh, Adachi, how you struggle with someone having affection for you compels me every time.

I really like introducing Tsuge in the tag.

It’s really fascinating how each adaptation so far has approached the timeline of events. I kinda like holding off on the supporting case for a full episode and just focusing on Adachi being a loner who doesn’t know how to deal with Kurosawa being so attracted to him while making no overt moves about it. It’s really cool because it doesn’t just feel like the live action. We got through events that were in the first two or three episodes of the live action here, but also didn’t touch other beats yet. I like it. This is such a cool set of comparisons we get to make right now.

[eunseoksimp]

Solace ; Lee Sohee

Pairings: Bf!Sohee x Gf!Reader

Genre: angst

Description: the struggles of trying to connect with someone who is deeply guarded and emotionally unavailable.

Warnings: reference to depression, suicidal thoughts, swearing.

solace [noun] : ‘comfort or consolation in a time of distress or sadness.

a/n: a very depressing true story, except he didn’t stay with me lol (not that he had to.)

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

lee sohee doesn’t know why you’re so distant.

ever since he first met you, a forlorn look continually swimming in your irises, he knew it would be hard to get you to open up.

you were almost pitiful, a broken girl, the idea of happiness a foreign feeling, something that had long since ceased to exist in your life.

there was barely anyone around you, your solitude only affirming your sorry state. what did sohee see in you?

love had blinded him of course, ‘i can fix her, ‘it’s probably only because we’re not close, ‘she’ll open up with time.’

words that used to provide him with comfort, with the rope of hope that he would cling onto, using it to anchor him whilst simultaneously moving forward.

it took a long time for you to even speak to him. often he would approach you, wide smile on his face, trying to strike up conversation. and you would just look up at him wide-eyed, slow blinking as if he was speaking a foreign language.

his friends thought he was crazy; why was he so determined to get you to open up to him? to say something?

there was something unspoken between the two of you, that he was sure others wouldn’t be able to get, but he did.

so even though there was no real gain on his part, he would show up everyday, ignoring the looks you would give him.

he would flash you the same wide-toothed grin, sitting a little too close for comfort as he continued to try and probe further and further into your life.

‘what’s your favourite colour?’

‘black.’

‘why do you always have your headphones on?’

‘because.’

‘the weather’s nice today, isn’t it. i heard that by the afternoon it’s going to be really warm.’

‘nice.’

it was always one worded answers with you, short and brief, like you didn’t have the energy to expand further. but despite this, a part of you became accustomed to his presence, constantly following you around, seemingly unfazed by your cold exterior.

‘i feel like he’s around everyday,’ your friend minjeong commented, pointing in the direction of the boy who had just left after spending the last minute explaining his favourite anime to you. haikyuu, your favourite one too.

you shrugged in response, going back to playing with the charm on your bracelet and she raised an eyebrow at you.

‘i’m just surprised you haven’t told him to fuck off yet, that’s all.’

‘he’d probably come around regardless,’ you answered, but that wasn’t the full truth.

in the weeks he had spent hovering around, there was a warm sense of familiarity, a part of your day that you were slowly growing to enjoy. what new thing would he gush about? what part of your appearance would he compliment?

would it be your raven tresses, falling messing around your face? or the new industrial piercing that had occupied the upper part of your ear.

‘your style kind of reminds me of wednesday addams you know, but a little cooler of course,’ referring to your choice of wearing various shades of black.

needless to say, he was starting to grow on you. and that explained why after not seeing him for three days, you were the one seeking him out for the first time since you two had ever met.

he was shocked to see you, shuffling awkwardly on your feet, twirling the ring on your index finger as you mumbled something he couldn’t quite hear, his friends staring in amusement.

‘i said, i thought you died or something. but clearly you’re um - very much alive so..’ unable to bare the embarrassment anymore you turn on your heels but he’s quick to grab you by the elbow.

‘so you missed me?’ there was that smile again, and you sighed, because you knew it was doomed.

perhaps if you had heeded the alarm bells ringing in your head, or pushed him away, chiding him about how ridiculous he was being, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out the way it was now.

sohee, after finally seeing a sliver of hope, that the possibility of you returning his feelings were not as slim, was determined to make you his.

you resisted at first, but clearly not enough. he was too charming, saying all the right words, doing all the right things.

‘you’re going to hurt him,’ the small voice in your head didn’t give up, so you pushed even harder, but he was resistant.

‘i don’t know why you’re fighting it, just let me in,’ he put a hand over where your heart resided, drawing closer and closer. you had lost this battle.

and after three drawn out months, sohee was able to call you his. yet that title seemed to only have meaning ceremoniously.

he wasn’t expecting the relationship to be smooth sailing, that there was clearly something that you were painfully holding on, allowing to reside within you.

but you were his girlfriend, which meant he would always be there for you. he wouldn’t rush you, of course, but he would let you know that you could talk to him about it when you were ready, that he was here to listen to you.

it all seemed in vain. he cared about you, enough to worry about what would make you wake up breaking into cold sweats, or the reason why your eyes were sometimes red and puffy whenever you would meet up.

it was like he was in a relationship with a brick wall. on dates you hardly looked excited, you could go some days without hearing from him and not even bat an eyelid.

but what tipped everything over the edge was the crying. he hated knowing that clearly something was bothering you, eating at you from the inside, and he felt helpless just cradling you in his arms.

what could he do to make it better? what would make his love devoid of such bitter grief?

he figured all he could do was ask, he couldn’t venture into a place he wasn’t given permission to enter.

‘i’m fine just drop it,’ you weren’t even looking at him, picking at some fluff that had fallen on his couch.

sohee sighed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. it was the same thing each time. watching your tearful figure, desperate to help, but he would be met with the same generic response.

‘you’re clearly not fine if you’re crying.’

you said nothing, fingers still fixated in the same spot, acting as if you couldn’t hear him. the tick of the clock hanging above the television was starting to sound incessant, mirroring the thumping of his heart.

‘please, why won’t you talk to me?’ he tried again, a little more desperate to delve into what was making you so miserable.

‘for fucks sake sohee, leave it alone,’ you snapped, already on your feet, and he didn’t have the strength to stop you. he didn’t want to argue with you anymore, to add on to the insurmountable amount of stress you seemed to be under.

‘i think i should go,’ you swallowed the lump in your throat, gulping once, then twice before taking a shaky breath. you weren’t okay, that much was obvious.

and he hated that. he weakly reached his hand out, a silent plea for you to stay, to free him from his misery. but you didn’t.

you leaned down until you were close enough to his face, kissing every mole that dotted his cheek. and then you left.

he watched you leave, sinking further into the couch, head thrown back as he silently stares at the ceiling, fighting off tears himself.

he just wanted to connect with someone he cared about, to make you feel safe enough to speak to him, to let him know what troubled you.

but you had put up emotional barriers, preventing you from truly opening up. no matter how much he pleaded for access to your heart, expressing his confusion over the reasons for the distance and wariness, you wouldn’t budge.

you spent most of your time living in your own head, like you weren’t even present, and it made him feel like he was on edge. he was barely scratching the surface of your emotional inner life, barely fitting for a significant other.

it was a complex dilemma, one which caused him to lay awake at night, contemplating what was right.

his attempts to reach out to you were always met with resistance. he knew that the distance was unintentional, that whatever had caused you to be this way had completely taken over your being.

but he wondered why it always felt like you were at war, explosive, ruthless, painful. anton had told him many times that it was not his job to get someone to open up, that a big part of relationships was healthy communication.

‘i don’t think you guys are right for each other.’

surely there was a less heartbreaking solution for your problem. something that wouldn’t tear his heart to pieces. he felt a strong desire to keep showing up, even though you never responded in the way he wanted you to.

so he’s rushing over to your house after the second day of no replies from you, ready to repeat the harsh cycle.

knocking once, then twice, he steps back, just wanting to see your face again, to know that you’re alright, to hold you in his arms.

and when the door is finally pulled open, and you poke your head around the corner, his face immediately falls at the state of you.

mascara streamed down your cheeks, the tip of your nose is red, mirroring your bloodshot eyes. he felt his heart shatter, knowing that the girl he loved was suffering so much.

‘now is not a good time,’ you sniffled, half ready to shut him out, like you always did, but his will was stronger as he held the door open, making his way inside.

‘sohee i’m serious, i’m not in the mood.’

he ignored you, waiting till he was in your living room, nostrils flaring, heart racing as he turned to you.

‘why? why do you do this to yourself, to me?’ he’s on the verge of breaking down. he just couldn’t understand why you couldn’t just let him in, practically begging for your emotional intimacy.

‘i don’t know what you’re talking about,’ you’re avoiding his eyes again, and frustration builds up inside of him.

‘are you always like this? do you keep your thoughts and feelings locked away from everyone or is it just me?’ he’s confused over your wall building tendencies. was it something to do with him? was it something he could fix?’

‘well excuse me for not wanting to come to you everytime i’m feeling sad. what would be the point of that?’ you’re combative, defensive, even though you knew that it was a character flaw of yours.

your life had progressed without having anyone reliable to depend on, not until you met minjeong, your one and only friend. human beings were evil, preying on your insecurities and vulnerabilities, and you learnt over time that some things had to be dealt with alone.

how could somebody care for you when you couldn’t even care for yourself.

it wasn’t the healthiest thing to do, you knew that. but it got you through life and it was something you felt would stick with you throughout it all.

you knew if you told sohee how you really felt, about the dark thoughts that plagued your mind, then he might be able to offer some relief. but maybe that was the part that scared you, letting go of the rapport that you had built with your depression, that had slowly morphed into a part of your identity.

you didn’t know how to let it go, and maybe you didn’t want to.

‘but you’re supposed to come to me when you’re sad, when you feel like you’re upset and just want to break down. you’re supposed to talk about your feelings, not bottle them up.’

‘ what are you, my therapist?’

‘no i’m you’re fucking boyfriend. seriously what’s my purpose in this relationship if my own girlfriend can’t even talk to me,’ he bites his lip, suppressing his tears because it’s not about him right now.

‘then maybe we shouldn’t have one. this relationship, maybe it was over before it started. i’m sorry,’ you still refuse to look at him, already ready to walk away and it pains him.

‘you’re doing it again. refusing to talk about the issue and distancing from me. please, i just need you to speak to me,’ his legs give in, hunched over on the cold floor, water splashing onto the ground, quiet sobs leaving his lips.

‘so what do you want? for me to tell you how much i think of dying? how ready i am to embrace it with open arms? about how much displeasure i feel when i just open my fucking eyes every morning? or how about the fact that despite all of that, i’m too fucking scared to do it. because what if it fails? then i’m stuck in this shitty life. every day is about enduring, just getting through another shitty day for another shitty life, without purpose, without meaning, without passion. sohee i’m so fucking tired of it all-‘

you're in his arms before you can even finish your sentence, his shoulders still rising and falling, possibly more sorrowful than you as he clings onto you, weeping as he pulls you in closer, until you are practically one body.

but it’s not like you’re doing any better. you weren’t even aware it was possible to spill any more tears, giving you had exhausted your water reserve just minutes before he arrived. but here you were, shedding tears again. only this time, it was his arms you were wrapped in.

you never truly got it, what made sohee so patient, so fixated on knowing more about you. there were no ulterior motives behind his actions, just a genuine desire to be closer to you.

it was a hard pill to swallow, that maybe out of the tens of people that had caused you to become this way, that one boy was willing to tear it all down. he was determined to tear down your whole belief system, to challenge your way of thinking, hurting himself in the process.

but why?

as if he could hear you, he lifts his head, fingers delicately moving strands of hair out of your eyes and tucking them behind your ear, hand still cupping your face.

‘i don’t want to be in your way you know. i never want to hurt you, i just want to be the shoulder you cry on. i want you to let me know, whether things are good or bad. i want to be in your world, even if it means dealing with your fears and anxieties,’ it was a heartfelt plea to his lover, to let him be the one she found solace in.

you were not okay, truthfully, and you both knew it. it wasn’t something that would magically heal itself, but to sohee you were worth it all. he didn’t care what he had to go through, as long as he could draw you near.

he knew you were scared, because he was too. but he wanted to face love together, because he only wanted to feel it with you.

[yuesya]

I just read the Mechamaru short and also the other replies and well. And it just STRUCK me how Mechamaru is downright in the wrong in so many fucking ways.

Especially when you mentioned the guards. Those poor people who were guarding the Death Paintings and fingers. Mechamaru didn’t even give them a single consideration and probably even forgot they even existed, but they died horrible deaths because of Mechamaru colluding with Kenjaku.

Mechamaru accuses of Shiki having a perfect life - powerful, beautiful, perfect - and feels anger at her for the indifference when she looks at him, and yet, HE is worse than she is.

Ironically enough, despite her indifference and very much real and sincere want to resort to killing to solve her problems ALA she’s a cute little psychopath, Shiki is far more nicer to her subordinates and “people who don’t matter to the sorcerers”.

The guards. The assistants. The servants.

Because of how logical, abnormal and straightforward her way of thinking is, Shiki just… gets straight to the point. She treats her servants nicely because it’s basic decency to treat people who make everything work nicely. She makes sure her assistants are out of harm because duh, they are her assistants and can take care of other things, they don’t have to risk their lives fighting curses they cannot handle, she can handle that. Someone has committed a crime? Well easiest solution is to kill them but because of politics she will just immobilize them :/ Just let her break their limbs quickly, she had learnt from her mistake with Geto Suguru after all. They can be interrogated with only their mouth.

Anyways.

It’s just. Shiki doesn’t care about them the way she cares about Nanami or Satoru or Tsumiki or Megumi or Yuzuki.

Yet, she’s far, far more kinder to them than many other sorcerers who just see them as fodder.

Ironic. One of the most inhuman of sorcerers is kinder to them than those with human ego, isn’t it?

I think we're probably all in agreement that Mechamaru's plan in canon wasn't thought out very well. It sort of feels like he just finally, finally saw a chance to save himself, and went for it -to the point that he was tunnel-visioning quite a bit, either ignorant or uncaring or both regarding the casualties that such actions would have.

Shiki is largely uncaring about most people on the emotional level, but not the intellectual level. Which makes all the difference!

Mechamaru is indeed rather hypocritical in various ways when you look at things this way. Luckily, he's alive instead of dead in the Liyue AU, so now he gets to deal with the repercussions.

I haven't really made up my mind on details in the Liyue AU, although I think I'd like Mechamaru to have some character development in which he deals with the consequences of what his actions wrought.

In his own world, we have many civilian deaths, as well as the deaths of the warehouse guards. He also endangered his own classmates during the Goodwill event. He actively assisted and helped to hide Geto-Kenjaku and the man's faction from the jujutsu school.

In Liyue, an entire village was decimated by the four Special Grade cursed spirits that Shiki was fighting. Cursed spirits that she was only fighting because she'd been sent to search for Mechamaru.

Part of me wants to keep the transfigured monster-form a permanent state for Mechamaru. Actions have Consequences, and all that. It would also serve as an ever-present reminder that Mechamaru can't run from, in terms of what his shortsighted decisions cost him. There's also a fun parallel to hilichurls!

At the same time, there's another part of me that wants to make it so that Mechamaru can learn from the adepti. More specifically, learn to transform his shape from the illuminated beast adepti, whose original forms are animals but they themselves can take on a human form.

Because part of Mechamaru's growth in the Liyue AU would be coming to terms with what he did, but also trying to atone for it, too. To move past his mistakes, and become better.

... Anyways there are fun things to write either way, and I'd better stop here and get back to editing the next chapter for zenith of stars now haha.

[aboxthecolourofheartache]

Rem Saverem was a real one. Imagine being like between 28 and 30 and witnessing your crewmates torture a little girl to death, unable to stop them or rescue her. She’s not human but she looks and acts like a suffering child. She dies, horrifically and incompletely (frozen, status: alive). Your crewmates aren’t done with her even when she’s in pieces, and they put her in a jar to save for later. You keep her resting place clean and leave her flowers, knowing she never once got to see the miraculous geo-dome where you grow those flowers. Her siblings(?) or aunts(?) or mothers(?) support that geo-dome, each in a jar of their own, a torture and exploitation even slower than hers. You’re giving her little bits of them, but there’s nothing on the ship that isn’t created or maintained by slavery. There is no viable alternative you can come up with that doesn’t involve an overhaul of everything currently keeping humanity alive in suspended animation without waking up everyone and having a UN-floor-style shitshow of a discussion. You’re not an ethicist or a politician or even a community leader or systems engineer. You’re a navigator with a good head on your shoulders and an unequivocal stance on torturing children: it’s the worst kind of wrong. You don’t really know enough about Plants to understand what the alternatives to their exploitation are, if there are any. You just know it’s wrong, and the complicity eats at your bones and at your sanity via your conscience. How did you ever think that this expedition was the best use of your blank ticket? What would Alex say? (He would hold you and remind you that you are one human woman, and that you protested as much as you could, made your moral stand as best you could, and pushing harder might have resulted in your enforced return to cryo-sleep until the ships reached their destination, and then who would leave the poor child flowers? Who would think of her kindly? Who would be awake instead of you now, continuing to ruin her even after death?)

Then, the universe coughs up two more Independent Plants, and you know exactly why you’re on this expedition and how to make the best possible use of your blank ticket. Never again. You name the children, you treat them like people, you love them - and you’re barely 30 and traumatized as hell and you know you’re fucking things up, but there’s no one else and you cannot allow there to be anyone else, or everything goes back to square one and the twins go to the dissection table. You hide them in plain sight. They love you. You’re happier for their company, less lonely, and you never expected to have children. (You were planning, with Alex. If those plans had worked out, you would not be here to do your flawed best for these twins.) They are so smart, and you cannot bring yourself to tell them anything about the girl who came before them. You can barely put that experience into words for yourself, much less communicate the scope of it to two children. (They are so smart, growing inhumanly fast, and they are still less than a year old. You really should have fucking tried anyway.)

They discover their sister. They’re about one year old, and they fall away from you and from each other and from hope. One-year-olds shouldn’t be actively suicidal. You feel just like you did when you dragged yourself back to your room after screaming at your crewmates decades ago. You still think it was pure cowardice that you volunteered to go back into cryo-sleep so you could wake up years later and avoid spending time with mutilators and murderers. If you checked out, chose to sleep, volunteered for a solo navigation shift, how could you blame Knives for pushing everything down and ignoring it? After your own sick depression, feeling so powerless, how could you blame Vash for wanting to be done with everything?

But they’re barely over a year old. All you really know is that dead people don’t get to make decisions for themselves, death is the end of change for a person. (Alex will always be 27, love you more than anything, and will never meet the children who have become your family.) Things don’t get better for dead people. You want so, so much for things to get better for the twins.

One of them kills you, driving everything into the ground, humanity and Plants alike, because living means change means uncertainty means fear, and he is so afraid and humanity taught him his life was cheap, so why should he value theirs? The other plays the letter but not the spirit of your hopes; he lives for other people and never for himself, internalizes your insistence on the value of life and pays flesh by the pound to preserve it. He won’t follow you into death because your purchased his life (and so many other lives) with yours (he won’t squander that), but in a way he will never forgive you for choosing to die for others, and he’ll take that anger out on himself. You save lives and you doom Plants and you doom humanity trying to save humanity and Plants from their doom. Everyone’s on a rock again, back to where it all started on an inhospitable world, just a new one. But you kept things from ending. It all could have ended.

And you were like 30 and clinging to an imperfect but determined philosophy that kept you from flinging yourself into the grave after Alex, and you weren’t a mother or an educator or a spiritual guide or even particularly suited to raise children, and you fucked these kids up irreparably, but you were all they had and you were better than anyone who would have made them into tissue samples. You tried so hard, and both twins will carry you like a millstone and like a talisman for the rest of their very, very long lives.

And you named one of them Knives. What the fuck, Rem. Knives??

[highdramas]

hi ! i absolutely love everything you’ve written about joel so far and i think you really capture the essence of the character. i would love it if you could write an imagine where joel, ellie and the reader make it to tommy’s and settle there and become a family (kind of), maybe the reader and joel have a kid and he’s scared but they make it work (?) i think it’d be super cute and who doesn’t love daddy!joel? 🥺

i loved this request!! i changed it just a tiny bit and made r come to jackson after joel and ellie so i hope that's ok. also fucked around with ages so joel is 47 here! thank you sm for sending and reading and i hope that you enjoy <3

wc: 2679

--

there was a story about jackson and the people who protected it. the people who had built it into a fortress, a civilization almost resembling the one that you knew years ago. so many years ago-- god, you were a different person now. you were hardened after so much time spent fighting, clambering to stay above running water.

the river of death. you'd heard the whispers on the wind about it, but you didn't believe it. not really. not when one person told one person who told you about this place-- but you would beg. shit, you would get on your hands and knees and plead if you absolutely needed to.

you're just one person. one person looking for her sister, and if what you'd been told on your journey proved true... she was here. and you would find her.

like clockwork, the charging of horses approaches you. instantly you raise your gun into eyesight and set it onto the ground, keep your hands up. "i've got nothin' else." one of the many men and women keeps their eyes fixed on you, the rest of their face obscured by the bandana they wear. but there's some distinctly masculine about the look. his harsh eyes are unrelenting. "i'm just looking for my sister. my baby sister." your eyes shine with unshed tears. "she's sixteen-- i know you probably think i'm bluffing to get your sympathy, i'm not! i promise you i'm not."

your near tears when the one who had been staring at you so intently hops off his horse, bringing forth a dog. "you infected?" he asks in a deep southern drawl. "this thing'll sniff it on you if you are."

"no," you say instantly and the dog is brought towards you, sniffing at you, before it starts licking your hands. you manage a smile and you look back up to the man. "her name is birdie."

when people start looking at one another, you feel an instinct in yourself spike. "where is she."

--

there was a long while that jackson didn't feel real. a long while where you were still not all that unlike a feral animal. wounded, scared, skittish. a year later, with a beer in hand and laughter on your lips, you remark how it's wonderful that they didn't shoot you point blank that very first day.

but it was joel who found you. and joel would never have done such a thing; not when you mentioned the one thing that he felt so deeply in his bones that it was like he knew you from the moment you laid eyes on him. you were a sister. you were an older sibling. and he recognized that feral look in your eye. it was not dissimilar to the one he had that first time he came to jackson, hoping that maybe tommy would be out there.

your relationship with joel had been trepidatious. after your reunion with your sister-- sixteen years old and alive, miraculously alive thanks to friends the two of you had made out in that scary world who you would never be able to repay enough-- it was joel who sought you out. joel and ellie, so much like him in a way that you recognized instantly. birdie was introducing you to anyone who would bear to stick around her rambunctious energy, but if there was anyone who could match it, it was ellie.

and that left you with joel.

those dark eyes burn into the side of your face as you watch ellie and birdie find a spot for movie night. they're playing mulan, which birdie had let you know had become her favorite in the months she'd been in jackson without you.

without you. because in those months apart, you had failed her.

"movies. crazy, isn't it? that they watch fuckin' movies?"

that gruff voice coaxes you from your own thoughts, which perhaps was joel's goal in the first place. there's a small smile on his face which he turns towards you. "unbelievable," you get out.

joel, with a slight nod of his head, beckons you to follow him. "c'mon. they'll be fine."

"but--"

"they'll be fine." joel says, reassurance and not annoyance in his voice. "i know it's hard. but she's safe."

joel had lead you to the bar and he poured you a low glass of whiskey, and as you sat there, he didn't even have to say anything for the story to start tumbling from your lips. you smuggled your little sister out of kc when it all went to shit. there wasn't a chance in hell you were going to stick around in that hell hole-- not with kathleen in control. you weren't the only one who felt that way, of course. a group of you had planned to go west together. and that's what you did. until a group of raiders fell upon you and you, you were supposed to be the distraction. but being a distraction quickly turned into being left behind, watching as your group, your friends, your baby sister-- they ran off to what you hoped could be safety.

it still felt like a failure. it felt like a failure because you heard birdie crying, heard her pleading them to stay, just to wait. that they didn't have to leave you. but this world was do or die, and you didn't resent them for leaving. you were glad they had.

failure. it was a failure. it was a failure that birdie had to be brought up in a world like this, not one where she could've been in choir and gone to prom. it was a failure.

and then joel's story. of sarah and of ellie and of everything in between-- and that hospital. his lie. "you're the only person i've ever told. well, besides tommy," he says with a rub at his chin. "but i couldn't-- i couldn't let her--"

your hand folds over his. "i know."

--

"a date." you put your face in your hands and joel rubs his hand up and down your back, with a small smirk. "i mean, she's--"

"she's seventeen years old, kid." joel pats you right between your shoulder blades.

birdie is not the only one who has found love, so it seems.

you feel joel's love everywhere, all around you. it sends a pang to your heart to think about the way that he lived for twenty years. yes, he had tess. and you had mourned a woman that you never met, said your silent thank you's to her. she kept joel alive. she kept joel going, in their own odd way, a life that you cannot fathom now.

not only that. she was just a person-- a person trying to get by. you think about all of the people who are never mourned, never remembered, lost to time and circumstance. you'll mourn every dead person you learn of, just so that they're no longer forgotten.

you feel joel's love when he helps guide you on how to be a parent. he said that it's like riding a bike; he learned with sarah and he never forgot. you feel joel's love when he takes your shift when you're not feeling well. you feel joel's love when he saves you a spot next to him during movie night. you feel joel's love everywhere, wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

"i know she is," you say gently, as if to soothe yourself from the rising anxiety in yourself. "i just..." you look at joel closely. "i don't want her to get hurt. i realize how fucking ridiculous i sound when i say that, believe me."

the corner of joel's mouth turns up into that smile that you absolutely fucking adore. "well, hey-- at least you're aware."

you groan and shove his shoulder but he pulls you in a catches your chin, his lips pressing to yours. you feel joel's love then.

--

"is this going to even be accurate?"

maria shrugs her shoulders and leans against the doorway. "joel is forty seven years old," you say, meeting maria's gaze. "he's not going to want this. and not just for that reason."

of all the people joel had won over, the most surprising had been maria. you'd heard the stories of that first visit, before the hospital. but you were thankful that he had. you were thankful for tommy and maria-- that you had a family. a makeshift family that loved and cared for one another. tommy, maria, their little baby. you, joel, birdie, and ellie.

"stop stalling and take it," maria says and that has you snorting, muttering something about damn district attorney under your breath that has her shaking her head.

so, you do. you take the pregnancy test, put the cap on it, and set it on your bathroom counter. you and maria are staring at nothing for a long time when the timer on maria's phone goes off and she snatches the test. "let me." she glances down at it and looks back at you. her lips are pressed into a thin line. and you don't even have to look at it to know what it says.

pregnant.

--

there's a part of you that think it's slightly fitting that the first snowfall is going to coincide with you telling joel of your pregnancy.

there's something magical in the air. not that you necessarily feel that magic right now... you feel something else entirely. fear and worry, anxiety and curiosity... but still, above it all, you feel happy. you don't know how the hell it makes sense that you can feel happy despite it all, but you do.

you watch joel as he piles together a rough snowball and pelts it right at ellie. "hey! you asshole!" that voice of hers never fails to make you smile, and the same is true now. you hear joel's laughter ring clear and true through jackson and you know that you're going to be alright. everything's gonna be alright.

your thumb nail runs along the little plus sign on the test, having already committed it to memory. for a moment you try and envision the look on joel's face when you tell him. it always ends up slightly muddled in your head, like you can't quite picture the real thing.

across the street joel catches your eye. you've always had the suspicion that he could identify you without even knowing you were around. it's like there was something inside both of you that tugged you towards one another, always. he nods his head at you and you nod back, crossing towards him. his gloved hands go to your waist and tug you in to him. "havin' fun?" he asks you, rubbing his hand up and down your back. "where's little bird?"

you point out birdie and her boyfriend with a smile. "gonna start calling her lovebird."

"ah, sounds fitting." you can feel his eyes on the side of your head. "something's up with you."

head whipping around to look at him, you try to keep your face as neutral as possible. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"don't bullshit me. i see it written all over your face."

pursing your lips at him, you turn your attention over to ellie. "there is something up with me." your hand slides down his arm before you take his hand, leading him away from the crowd.

this is make or break, you realize.

far enough away from other people, you slide the pregnancy test out of your pocket. you stare down at it and tap it against the palm of your hand. following the sound, joel glances downward, eyes snapping back to yours. "what is that?"

facing him, you place it into his hand. you watch as he stares at it and his eyes go shiny, snapping up to meet your gaze. wordless, all you offer is a brief nod of your head. "i missed my last period. and i've had an upset stomach in the mornings. think they call that morning sickness." there's a million different things happening all over his face, and you don't know how to decipher any of them. this is the first time that you feel you haven't been able to fully understand the man that has opened you up. "look-- you didn't sign up for this. you don't have to-- you don't have to stick around out of obligation."

joel's nostrils flare. "you think that i'd do that? that i would do that to you?"

"no! no, of course not-- joel, that's not what i'm saying, and you know it." you put your face on his hand and turn it towards yourself. there's tears shining in your eyes now. "i don't want to back you into a corner that you don't want to be in, is all. i don't-- i don't want you to feel like you have to do this. any of this."

with a long and shaky sigh, joel shakes his head, putting his hands on his hips. a hand scrubs over his face and when it falls, he's looking at you straight on. "i'd be lyin' if i said i wasn't scared shitless. being a dad--" his head instantly turns towards where you can faintly hear ellie's laughter. "i do alright with ellie. and i'm scared with her, too." he swallows. and he stands a bit straighter. "i'm not goin' anywhere. i'm not. and it's not out of obligation. it is because i love you."

you loosen a breath and his hand grips your elbow and tugs you close to him, wrapping his arms around you. "i love you," he murmurs again. and the thing about joel is he doesn't always say his love, but he always shows it. but the words warm you up just the same. "and i'm gonna love the shit out of our kid."

laughing into his chest, you squeeze your eyes closed. "i'm scared too," you admit. "what if i'm not--"

"oh, i know you're not sayin' that." he tips your chin up. "you raised birdie. and you did a damn fine job." he taps your bottom lip with his thumb. "we're... we're gonna be alright, kid."

--

birdie and ellie sit shoulder to shoulder, looking at the bundle in ellie's arms. you smile a little from your spot on the bed. joel takes the other spot next to ellie, his gaze flicking from you, to ellie, and to the baby in her arms.

"little theo," she coos softly, tapping his tiny nose. "i love that name."

joel looks up at you and you swear that something behind his eyes sparkle. "don't look at me. i definitely didn't pick it."

ellie giggles and looks at you. "knew it." she glances over at birdie. "you want to hold him?"

birdie, so soft and delicate, glances over at you. you give a reassuring nod of your head and force yourself onto your feet. joel is up in an instant helping you up, helping you move towards birdie. you sit next to her and brush a piece of her hair back. "only if you want to, bird." she instantly nods her head and turns to ellie, opening her arms up. and when theo is placed into her arms... you feel your eyes well.

family. you glance over at joel and he puts a strong and steadying hand onto her shoulder which you nuzzle your cheek against.

"he's perfect," birdie murmurs, stroking his cheek. "i didn't know a baby could be perfect, but he is."

you hum and nod your head. "glad i'm not the only one who thinks so," you tease. birdie leans against you for a moment and she looks at you with sparkly eyes. "i remember when i held you for the first time," you whisper. "i thought you were pretty perfect, too."

a tear falls down her cheek and you catch it with your thumb. joel's hand rubs at your shoulder and that word rings true once more.

family.

you'll be okay. you know you will.

[mediumsizedpidegon]

I'm unable to stop thinking about OG!Mobei-Jun. We never meet him like we do Luo Bingge but I have such a strong image of who he is.

To reference a text post I am obsessed with, if Luo Bingge is a male power fantasy, original Mobei-Jun is the ‘one man as an island’ belief. The idea of ‘one man as an island’ is basically the same as the lie of complete self sufficiency.

It means; you don’t NEED help. It means: you are an island, a city, a nation within yourself, and so you are all you need. It means; you aren’t weak and you can do EVERYTHING yourself. And while this isn’t an inherently male concept (everyone can be influenced by it) it does tend to be extra emphasized in male spaces. It’s certainly part of the toxic masculinity package. Because in toxic masculinity, other men are competitors. Rivals. Enemies. You crush them to get what you want and you do it alone.

Airplane takes Luo Bingge and turns a story about the cycles of abuse into the height of male power fantasies. And Airplane thus takes Mobei-Jun and projects his desires to be a one-man-island.

Because islands aren’t lonely. They can’t feel lonely. (You are a one man island and you don’t need people so that means you chose your aloneness. you have control over it.)

And here’s the thing: complete self sufficiency is utter HORSESHIT. ITS A LIE. IT DOESNT FUCKING WORK.

Since complete self sufficiency is a lie, translating Mobei-jun from book to real person gets wayyyy more complicated.

So my view of OG!Mobei Jun is someone who has frozen himself into complete indifference. He’s a man who desperately wants to belong to someone or something but has forgotten how. He’s a closeted romantic who has gouged out all the soft and vulnerable parts of himself. He moves through life as if everything is beneath him and less real than him because if it isn’t then he’ll fall apart spectacularly. He’s a man who’s sat so long with solitude that it’s crystallized him into a moving statue. He’s a flesh and blood person but he is so incapable of letting his guard down that the entire world sees the mountain he wants to be and not the cracks where the illusion fails. He doesn’t know how to live. He refuses to die.

OG!Mobei-Jun is the myth of self sufficiency. And it eats him alive.

He can’t trust his family, so he raised himself while "overseeing his future realm," leading to him being malnourished and touch-starved. He can’t trust his servants, and so he learned how to put on everything himself— in simple styles so that he could do them even injured. He can’t trust his advisors, so his kingdom is governed by fear and precedent rather than understanding. He can’t trust his palace, and so he is short on sleep and good food and relaxation: after all, he must do everything himself and thus he must know everything.

In comparison to SVSSS, original Mobei-Jun is noticeably thinner. He wears makeup to hide the dark circles beneath his eyes. The wound from the Huan Hua dart never healed right: and neither did many, many others. Compared to our Mobei-Jun, he looks…. brittle, with the vicious fear of an animal backed into a corner.

SVSSS Mobei-Jun is taller, bigger. He has that extra essential “I’m not alone and being taken care of” weight. Even just by looking at him, you can tell that he is miles steadier, with people he can trust at his back. He’s not constantly shaking with a combination of touch starvation and paranoia. He has less scars and the ones he does have look better taken care of.

SVSSS Mobei-Jun is just.... a complete antithesis to his original self. A complete deconstruction of the self sufficiency myth.

A one man island wouldn’t be rescued like three times like a damsel in distress! A one man island wouldn’t have a devoted servant to care for him: to heal his wounds and give him food and drink, a place to rest, and information more valuable than gold. A one man island wouldn’t know gentleness if it clubbed him in the head!

I guess what I’m trying to say here is that Shang Qinghua has a MONUMENTAL impact on Mobei-Jun’s life and his entire perception of the world and himself.

This is a man who could have friends! This is a guy who is unguarded enough to actually fall in love! This is a dude who might be close to some distant family members! This is a guy who might have HOBBIES or THINGS THAT MAKE HIM LAUGH!!!! The ripple effect goes and goes and with Shang Qinghua smashing his ‘I need to do everything myself’ belief, Mobei-Jun can relax and actually trust people! Other people even!

Imagine a Mobei-Jun that has not just Shang Qinghua but!! A half sister he really likes!! A couple great aunts he can ask for advice!! Some cousins that have children that call him uncle!! A friend or two!!!!

THIS IS NOT A MAN ALONE!!!