#its gonna be about what you can wring out to survive

[definitelynotshouting]

Drive by bit of trivia that I think fits into your Hunger AU - Evo!Grian (pre-Watcher) was neutral in the big dispute on the server, iirc (Mafia vs Property Police) but HC!Grian (post-Watcher) ends up getting a rep for starting wars. Also, don't know if you know about Demise in HC s6, but it was kind of a precursor to the Life SMP, so you could probably use that in your fic if you want? Maybe as Grian's first "oh hey suffering tastes good" moment or something? Only if you think it fits, though.

OHHHHHH I AM GAZING AT THIS TRIVIA!!! yeah ive never watched Evo so the extent of my knowledge is what i can find on the wiki and extrapolate from other people's posts on tumblr 😂😂😂😂 so im always happy to receive tidbits about it!!!

Also 👁️ oooooh ive heard about Demise a little bit but nothing more than the name and that i think it involved collecting heads or smth??? But i could totally see that being the seed planted for the future life games-- i imagine stuff like that would be almost like LARPing in a sense, due to Player death mostly being an inconvenience, but the fear and exhilaration of being hunted down would have been so tasty. It would make sense for that to stick in Grian's brain, and give him a lowkey guiding point when scrambling to make the life series!!!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Circular battery self-sufficiency

I'm coming to DEFCON! On FRIDAY (Aug 9), I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On SATURDAY (Aug 10), I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

If we are going to survive the climate emergency, we will have to electrify – that is, transition from burning fossil fuels to collecting, storing, transmitting and using renewable energy generated by e.g. the tides, the wind, and (especially) the Sun.

Electrification is a big project, but it's not an insurmountable one. Planning and executing an electric future is like eating the elephant: we do it one step at a time. This is characteristic of big engineering projects, which explains why so many people find it hard to imagine pulling this off.

As a layperson, you are far more likely to be exposed to a work of popular science than you are a work of popular engineering. Pop science is great, but its role is to familiarize you with theory, not practice. Popular engineering is a minuscule and obscure genre, which is a pity, because it's one of my favorites.

Weathering the climate emergency is going to require a lot of politics, to be sure, but it's also going to require a lot of engineering, which is why I'm grateful for the nascent but vital (and growing) field of popular engineering. Not to mention, the practitioners of popular engineering tend to be a lot of fun, like the hosts of the Well That's Your Problem podcast, a superb long-form leftist podcast about engineering disasters (with slides!):

https://www.youtube.com/@welltheresyourproblempodca1465

If you want to get started on popular engineering and the climate, your first stop should be the "Without the Hot Air" series, which tackles sustainable energy, materials, transportation and food as engineering problems. You'll never think about climate the same way again:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/06/methane-diet/#3kg-per-day

Then there's Saul Griffith's 2021 book Electrify, which is basically a roadmap for carrying out the electrification of America and the world:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/09/practical-visionary/#popular-engineering

Griffith's book is inspiring and visionary, but to really get a sense of how fantastic an electrified world can be, it's gotta be Deb Chachra's How Infrastructure Works:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/17/care-work/#charismatic-megaprojects

Chachra is a material scientist who teaches at Olin College, and her book is a hymn to the historical and philosophical underpinnings of infrastructure, but more than anything, it's a popular engineering book about what is possible. For example, if we want to give every person on Earth the energy budget of a Canadian (like an American, but colder), we would only have to capture 0.4% of the solar energy that reaches the Earth's surface.

Now, this is a gigantic task, but it's a tractable one. Resolving it will require a very careful – and massive – marshaling of materials, particularly copper, but also a large number of conflict minerals and rare earths. It's gonna be hard.

But it's not impossible, let alone inconceivable. Indeed, Chachra's biggest contribution in this book is to make a compelling case for reconceiving our relationship to energy and materials. As a species, we have always treated energy as scarce, trying to wring every erg and therm that we can out of our energy sources. Meanwhile, we've treated materials as abundant, digging them up or chopping them down, using them briefly, then tossing them on a midden or burying them in a pit.

Chachra argues that this is precisely backwards. Our planet gets a fresh supply of energy twice a day, with sunrise (solar) and moonrise (tides). On the other hand, we've only got one Earth's worth of materials, supplemented very sporadically when a meteor survives entry into our atmosphere. Mining asteroids, the Moon and other planets is a losing proposition for the long foreseeable future:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

The promise of marshaling a very large amount of materials is that it will deliver effectively limitless, clean energy. This project will take a lot of time and its benefits will primarily accrue to people who come after its builders, which is why it is infrastructure. As Chachra says, infrastructure is inherently altruistic, a gift to our neighbors and our descendants. If all you want is a place to stick your own poop, you don't need to build a citywide sanitation system.

What's more, we can trade energy for materials. Manufacturing goods so that they gracefully decompose back into the material stream at the end of their lives is energy intensive. Harvesting materials from badly designed goods is also energy intensive. But if once we build out the renewables grid (which will take a lot of materials), we will have all the energy we need (to preserve and re-use our materials).

Our species' historical approach to materials is not (ahem) carved in stone. It is contingent. It has changed. It can change again. It needs to change, because the way we extract materials today is both unjust and unsustainable.

The horrific nature of material extraction under capitalism – and its geopolitics (e.g. "We will coup whoever we want! Deal with it.") – has many made comrades in the climate fight skeptical (or worse, cynical) about a clean energy transition. They do the back-of-the-envelope math about the material budget for electrification, mentally convert that to the number of wildlife preserves, low-income communities, unspoiled habitat and indigenous lands that we would destroy in the process of gathering those materials, and conclude that the whole thing is a farce.

That analysis is important, but it's incomplete. Yes, marshaling all those materials in the way that we do today would be catastrophic. But the point of a climate transition is that we will transition our approach to our planet, our energy, and our materials. That transition can and should challenge all the assumptions underpinning electrification doomerism.

Take the material bill itself: the assumption that a transition will require a linearly scaled quantity of materials includes the assumption that cleantech won't find substantial efficiencies in its material usage. Thankfully, that's a very bad assumption! Cleantech is just getting started. It's at the stage where we're still uncovering massive improvements to production (unlike fossil fuel technology, whose available efficiencies have been discovered and exploited, so that progress is glacial and negligible).

Take copper: electrification requires a lot of copper. But the amount of copper needed for each part of the cleantech revolution is declining faster than the demand for cleantech is rising. Just one example: between the first and second iteration of the Rivian electric vehicle, designers figured out how to remove 1.6 miles of copper wire from each vehicle:

https://insideevs.com/news/722265/rivian-r1s-r1t-wiring/

That's just one iteration and one technology! And yeah, EVs are only peripheral to a cleantech transition; for one thing, geometry hates cars. We're going to have to build a lot of mass transit, and we're going to be realizing these efficiencies with every generation of train, bus, and tram:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/29/geometry-hates-uber/#toronto-the-gullible

We have just lived through a massive surge in electrification, with unimaginable quantities of new renewables coming online and a stunning replacement of conventional vehicles with EVs, and throughout that surge, demand for copper remained flat:

https://www.chemanalyst.com/NewsAndDeals/NewsDetails/copper-wire-price-remains-stable-amidst-surplus-supply-and-expanding-mining-25416#:~:text=Global%20Copper%20wire%20Price%20Remains%20Stable%20Amidst%20Surplus%20Supply%20and%20Expanding%20Mining%20Activities

This isn't to say that cleantech is a solved problem. There are many political aspects to cleantech that remain pernicious, like the fact that so many of the cleantech offerings on the market are built around extractive financial arrangements (like lease-back rooftop solar) and "smart" appliances (like heat pumps and induction tops) that require enshittification-ready apps:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/26/unplanned-obsolescence/#better-micetraps

There's a quiet struggle going on between cleantech efficiencies and the finance sector's predation, from lease-back to apps to the carbon-credit scam, but many of those conflicts are cashing out in favor of a sustainable future and it doesn't help our cause to ignore those: we should be cheering them on!

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/12/s-curve/#anything-that-cant-go-on-forever-eventually-stops

Take "innovation." Silicon Valley's string of pump-and-dump nonsense – cryptocurrency, NFTs, metaverse, web3, and now AI – have made "innovation" into a dirty word. As the AI bubble bursts, the very idea of innovation is turning into a punchline:

https://www.wheresyoured.at/burst-damage/

But cleantech is excitingly, wonderfully innovative. The contrast between the fake innovation of Silicon Valley and the real – and vital – innovation of cleantech couldn't be starker, or more inspiring:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/30/posiwid/#social-cost-of-carbon

Like the "battery problem." Whenever the renewables future is raised, there's always a doomer insisting that batteries are an unsolved – and unsolvable – problem, and without massive batteries, there's no sense in trying, because the public won't accept brownouts when the sun goes down and the wind stops blowing.

Sometimes, these people are shilling boondoggles like nuclear power (reminder: this is Hiroshima Day):

https://theconversation.com/dutton-wants-australia-to-join-the-nuclear-renaissance-but-this-dream-has-failed-before-209584

Other times, they're just trying to foreclose on the conversation about a renewables transition altogether. But sometimes, these doubts are raised by comrades who really do want a transition and have serious questions about power storage.

If you're one of those people, I have some very good news: battery tech is taking off. Some of that takes the form of wild and cool new approaches. In Finland, a Scottish company is converting a disused copper mine into a gravity battery. During the day, excess renewables hoist a platform piled with tons of rock up a 530m shaft. At night, the platform lowers slowly, driving a turbine and releasing its potential energy. This is incredibly efficient, has a tiny (and sustainable) bill of materials, and it's highly replicable. The world has sufficient abandoned mine-shafts to store 70TWh of power – that's the daily energy budget for the entire planet. What's more, every mine shaft has a beefy connection to the power grid, because you can't run a mine without a lot of power:

https://www.euronews.com/green/2024/02/06/this-disused-mine-in-finland-is-being-turned-into-a-gravity-battery-to-store-renewable-ene

Gravity batteries are great for utility-scale storage, but we also need a lot of batteries for things that we can't keep plugged into the wall, like vehicles, personal electronics, etc. There's great news on that score, too! "The Battery Mineral Loop" is a new report from the Rocky Mountain Institute that describes the path to "circular battery self-sufficiency":

https://rmi.org/wp-content/uploads/dlm_uploads/2024/07/the_battery_mineral_loop_report_July.pdf

The big idea: rather than digging up new minerals to make batteries, we can recycle minerals from dead batteries to make new ones. Remember, energy can be traded for materials: we can expend more energy on designs that are optimized to decompose back into their component materials, or we can expend more energy extracting materials from designs that aren't optimized for recycling.

Both things are already happening. From the executive summary:

The chemistry of batteries is rapidly improving: over the past decade, we've reduced per-using demand for lithium, nickle and cobalt by 60-140%, and most lithium batteries are being recycled, not landfilled.

Within a decade, we'll hit peak mineral demand for batteries. By the mid-2030s, the amount of new "virgin minerals" needed to meet our battery demand will stop growing and start declining.

By 2050, we could attain net zero mineral demand for batteries: that is, we could meet all our energy storage needs without digging up any more minerals.

We are on a path to a "one-off" extraction effort. We can already build batteries that work for 10-15 years and whose materials can be recycled with 90-94% efficiency.

The total quantity of minerals we need to extract to permanently satisfy the world's energy storage needs is about 125m tons.

This last point is the one that caught my eye. Extracting 125m tons of anything is a tall order, and depending on how it's done, it could wreak a terrible toll on people and the places they live.

But one question I learned to ask from Tim Harford and BBC More Or Less is "is that a big number?" 125m tons sure feels like a large number, but it is one seventeenth of the amount of fossil fuels we dig up every year just for road transport. In other words, we're talking about spending the next thirty years carefully, sustainably, humanely extracting about 5.8% of the materials we currently pump and dig every year for our cars. Do that, and we satisfy our battery needs more-or-less forever.

This is a big engineering project. We've done those before. Crisscrossing the world with roads, supplying billions of fossil-fuel vehicles, building the infrastructure for refueling them, pumping billions of gallons of oil – all of that was done in living memory. As Robin Sloan wrote:

Did people say, at the dawn of the automobile: are you kidding me? This technology will require a ubiquitous network of refueling stations, one or two at every major intersection … even if there WAS that much gas in the world, how would you move it around at that scale? If everybody buys a car, you’ll need to build highways, HUGE ones — you’ll need to dig up cities! Madness!

https://www.robinsloan.com/newsletters/room-for-everybody/

That big project cost trillions and required bending the productive capacity of many nations to its completion. It produced a ghastly geopolitics that elevated petrostates – a hole in the ground, surrounded by guns – to kingmakers whose autocrats can knock the world on its ass at will.

By contrast, this giant engineering project is relatively modest, and it will upend that global order, yielding energy sovereignty (and its handmaiden, national resliency) to every country on Earth. Doing it well will be hard, and require that we rethink our relationship to energy and materials, but that's a bonus, not a cost. Changing how we use materials and energy will make all our lives better, it will improve the lives of the living things we share the planet with, and it will strip the monsters who currently control our energy supply of their political, economic, and electric power.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/06/with-great-power/#comes-great-responsibility

[icrypop]

I am sorry but I can't help but put this here is some flowers 😨😨🥲😔😔😔🌺🌺🌺🌺🌸🌸🌸

Ok so y'know how the whole reading dying for a second time how about we escalate that to FOUR TIMES YES FOURTH TIME🤭 (lol they really gonna have some trauma lol 😋👌) and reader still is able to live but has a hard time trying to cope with it ( poor y/n) but that's nothing for what the Yandere lovesick team is feeling 😭😭😭😭

Just imagine them creating a plan with the parents still freaking out and haveing a mental breakdown for the forth time that day creating a plan that reader should just stay in the graveyard for the rest of the time that their in the phantom realm

And ofc it's the team is yandere because who doesn't love yanderes 🤭😃☺️👌but do what makes you feel comfortable ofc and TAKE YO TIME ❗️❗️❗️❗️

-by ohmydearesthowiluvu72 ☆(≧∀≦*)ﾉ

Poly! Yandere! SBG Gang x reader who dies 4 times

The Gang!

Warnings: Extreme yandere tendencies, possessiveness, manipulation, veiled threats

OOOhhh jeez this wassss a good request! Im so sleepy guys lmao buuuttt im almost through with th requests, then ill make the announcements :') ANywayyy hope this meets expectations!

-Writer Icy<3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tension in the air after the fourth time the reader dies is suffocating. Each death shakes the Yandere School Bus Graveyard gang to their core, and with every life-threatening moment, their fear of losing the reader forever becomes unbearable. 

But the fourth time? The reader’s seemingly miraculous ability to cling to life begins to take its toll on both them and the gang. The reader, worn down physically and emotionally, struggles with the trauma of dying again and again. Each time they come back, it’s harder to find peace in the world around them. Sleep is elusive, memories of each near-death weighing heavily on their chest, making it hard to breathe. 

But for the gang? Their love and obsession take a darker turn. Witnessing the reader's deaths leaves them unstable, hearts racing with anxiety and a need to protect. Something in their minds snaps. They can’t let it happen again. They **won’t** let it happen again. 

Yandere Gang’s Reaction After the Fourth Death:

Ashlynn:

Ashlynn’s breakdown is quiet but devastating. She paces back and forth, wringing her hands until her knuckles turn white. Every time she closes her eyes, she can still see the reader’s lifeless body. It's a replay in her head that she can't turn off. She becomes obsessed with the idea that they need to keep the reader isolated, constantly muttering under her breath about ways to keep them safe. 

“Away from everyone… from the danger… no one can hurt them in the graveyard.”

She starts sketching out plans in her notebook, a frantic scrawl detailing how they’ll live in the bus graveyard. “It’s safer there. We’ll make sure they never have to leave. Ever.” Her obsession with protecting the reader takes over every thought, and she clutches her notebook like it’s the key to their survival.

Ashlynn’s hands tremble as she clutches the reader’s face, her eyes wild with desperation. “You can’t leave us again,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I won’t survive it. None of us will. You belong with us now.”

She presses her forehead to theirs, her breath coming in shallow gasps as tears spill down her cheeks. “We’ll protect you. We’ll keep you safe. No more dying. No more pain.”

---

Tyler:

Tyler is furious—at the Phantom Realm, at the world, at everything that keeps pulling the reader back into danger. His anger is overwhelming, and he spends hours punching the side of the abandoned buses, his fists bleeding. He can’t control the rage he feels for being powerless every time the reader dies. But beneath all the anger, there’s fear. Fear that one day, the reader won’t come back.

“We have to lock them away,” Tyler says, his voice gruff but laced with desperation. “No more risks. No more chances. We keep them with us, where they belong. Forever.”

Tyler is the first to suggest that the reader never leave the bus graveyard. He’s willing to do anything, even if it means confining them. As long as the reader is alive, that’s all that matters.

Tyler pulls the reader close, his grip almost too tight, his chest heaving with barely restrained anger. “I swear, if anything tries to take you from me again, I’ll destroy it,” he growls. “I don’t care what I have to do. You’re staying with us.”

He buries his face in their neck, his lips brushing their skin as he speaks, his voice low and possessive. “You belong to me—to all of us. Don’t even think about leaving again.”

---

Taylor:

Taylor has been crying nonstop since the reader’s fourth death. The fear of losing them has shattered her completely. She can't handle the thought of watching them die again. Her normally confident demeanor is gone, replaced by a fragile, scared version of herself. She clings to the reader, holding them too tightly, not wanting to let go even for a second.

“We need to stay in the graveyard. It’s safe there,” she whispers, her voice shaky. “We’ll make it home. We won’t let anything hurt you again.”

Her possessiveness deepens as she becomes more attached, unwilling to let the reader out of her sight. Taylor's need for control grows stronger, fueled by the fear of ever seeing the reader disappear again.

---

Aiden:

Aiden’s calm, composed facade finally cracks after the fourth time the reader dies. He tries to stay calm and fake a smile, but his hands tremble, and there’s a haunted look in his eyes. “This can’t keep happening,” he murmurs, pacing the floor of the bus. His mind races with thoughts on how to keep the reader safe, and he becomes consumed with the idea of trapping them in the graveyard permanently.

“We can make it comfortable,” he insists to the others. “No more risks. If they stay here, they’ll live. We’ll make sure of it.”

Aiden begins drawing up plans for turning the graveyard into a livable space, obsessively organizing every detail. He’s determined that the reader will never leave again—and he’ll make sure they’re kept safe, no matter the cost.

Aiden’s fingers trace the outline of the reader’s wrist, his touch light but filled with silent possessiveness. “We’re never letting you go,” he murmurs, his eyes dark with unspoken threats. “Not this time. You’re ours now.”

His lips curve into a smile, cold and sharp, as he leans in close. “We’ll keep you safe. No one will take you away from us. Not ever again.”

---

Ben:

Ben’s response is chillingly silent. He hasn’t spoken much since the fourth time the reader died, his mind spinning with dark thoughts. Ben’s anger has always simmered beneath the surface, but now it’s boiling over. He’s not just angry at anyone who looks at the reader—he’s angry at the world itself for trying to take them away.

“We’ll keep them hidden,” Ben finally says, his voice eerily calm and out of earshot.

His possessiveness intensifies as he starts planning how to keep the reader hidden from the world. Ben is the one who suggests using the bus graveyard as a permanent home, a place where the reader will never be in danger again—and no one will ever find them.

---

Logan:

Logan’s reaction is all-consuming guilt. Each time the reader dies, it feels like a piece of him dies with them. He believes that if he were stronger, faster, smarter, he could have prevented it. Now, his guilt mixes with desperation. He’s the one who suggests that they don’t just live in the graveyard—they trick the reader into staying on one of the buses.

“No one will find them there,” Logan says, his voice shaking. “We can seal it off. They’ll be safe. We can protect them.”

Logan’s willingness to imprison the reader comes from a place of overwhelming fear. He’s terrified that the next time they die, it will be for real. And he can’t live in a world without them.

---

The Plan:

The gang agrees unanimously that the reader must be kept in the bus graveyard, away from the dangers of the Phantom Realm and the real world. They can’t risk losing the reader again. They become obsessed with transforming the graveyard into a permanent home, where the reader can live in isolation with them.

Each member of the gang takes on a different role—Aiden and Ashlynn make the plans, Tyler and Ben handle the physical labor, and Taylor and Logan ensure that the reader never tries to leave. Every time the reader expresses discomfort or fear, they’re met with soft reassurances and veiled threats. 

“This is for your own good,” they all say, their voices filled with devotion. “We won’t let anything happen to you again. You’re safe now.”

The reader’s trauma from dying multiple times only makes them more vulnerable, and the gang takes advantage of that vulnerability, keeping them close at all times. They’ve already lost the reader too many times—they won’t let it happen again.

Ever.

[bookoftheironfist]

Danny: "Give it up, Colleen. Before you get yourself hurt." Colleen: "Over your dead body, chum!" Danny: "Colleen, you wanted this duel and now you've had it. I hope you're satisfied. Now you're going to surrender or I'm going to break your arm. D'you hear me, girl? I really will break it!" Colleen: "You and how many other-- Oww!! Alright, already, I surrender! Hey, Danny, what's with the grumps? We had a pretty good workout and you won the duel to boot..." Marvel Premiere #24 by Chris Claremont, Pat Broderick, Phil Rache, Vinnie Colletta, and Karen Mantlo

I've talked a bit about this scene before in regards to the Danny side of things-- K'un-Lun's societal sexism and Danny's relationships with women who fight, and the way that each bit of culture shock in this early period fed into his frustration and homesickness for K'un-Lun-- but this time I want to focus on Colleen, and how compellingly this scene establishes her character and reflects her pivotal role in the Iron Fist world at this time.

This scene opens the issue, flinging us into a different type of action than we've grown used to in these stories-- not a desperate battle against an enemy, but a casual sparring match between two friends. Or at least, that's how Colleen sees it; as the fight goes on, we come to realize how the perspectives of the two combatants profoundly differ. Danny is uncomfortable and upset; he doesn't want to fight her, he's been raised with the philosophy that attacking a woman, under any circumstances, is forbidden. But Colleen doesn't care. In fact, as his protestations become more adamant, she begins to mess with him. To tease him. To see if she can push him past that mental block so that they can just, you know, have some fun.

Colleen Wing in this early period existed as a bit of an anchor within the world of Iron Fist. With both Danny and her father, Professor Wing, ensconced in far-flung things-- mystic realms, magical powers, epic revenge quests, ninja death cults-- Colleen is grounded. Down-to-Earth. While we don't actually see the Nightwing Restorations duo in action for quite a while, its existence is established early-on, cementing Colleen's career as an experienced professional butt-kicker. She is very likely older than Danny (at least, Misty certainly is). And when this strange, angry, damaged boy arrives from another dimension, wielding unearthly kung fu skills and the powers of a dragon, she takes him under her wing (pun maybe intended) and does something that probably not many people would do in that situation: She hangs out with him. She treats him like a regular person. She likes him and thinks his skills are neat, but she isn't in awe of him the way her father is. This is the same Colleen who refused to cater to Misty's self-pity after losing her arm, who treated her beloved friend as a tough and resilient surviver until Misty finally began to see herself that way too. With Danny, she goes, "So, you're this amazing fighter, huh? Cool, let's fight."

And that's exactly what we see here. Colleen is not afraid of Danny's legendary abilities. She's not intimidated by him at all (she calls him "chum", and earlier in the scene tells him to "quit futzing around"...<3). If he's gonna go easy on her because of some twisted-up moral quandary, fine, then she'll go right ahead and kick his ass. All she is asking for here is his friendship and respect. She has no time for his sexist hand-wringing. She wants him to fight her like an equal. To fight her like a friend. And Colleen Wing is stubborn enough and confident enough to risk a broken arm-or-two to make that happen.

P.S. The facial expressions here by penciller Pat Broderick are wonderful. The realism and attention to detail in this fight (a staple of these early Iron Fist issues) make it all the more fun and impactful.

P.P.S. "I am a woman. Not a girl." Chris Claremont, I am giving you the biggest of high fives.

[fulloflambing]

just yap about my most recent work (how i made it, the alternate plots or endings), and my future posts :D

writing that story took soooo much brain juice from me i feel like my brain has become a wringed sponge. im honestly rlly proud i managed to finish it😭

ive had writing experience before here on tumblr but i never rlly put alot of effort into it and it often made me feel bad about how i finished my stories. i always just thought about a vague plot, typed away, and posted it. some people enjoyed it n i was grateful for that but whenever id reread my own stories it would make me criticize myself and make me unmotivated to write, which eventually made me delete my old writeblr.

but ever since i've come back, and especially with 'heaven can wait', i rlly took my time to rewrite things i didnt find fitting. ive stopped writing just to post, but writing to actually enjoy and better my skills. im honestly proud of myself for taking the time to do that because i am, truthfully, a very impatient person n i hate redoing things. actually, i rewrote the story by like the 3.5k word mark TWICE and made sure i was truly happy with it. the plot was actually supposed to go two ways!:

kinich would find reader in their home, and they could comfort eachother real quick in the house before kinich escorted them to the survival shelter. kinich would then make a promise to reader to come back alive and boom boom fighting wham he comes back to them and boom emotional reunion!

^ i changed my mind halfway while writing this because i wanted the story to have more depth and to make it more about reader and kinich both experiencing grief and negative emotions more. this plotline was just too lovey dovey and chill for my liking.

2. kinich reunites with the reader in the end by finding her dead asleep in the tribe's infirmary.

^ i didnt like this ending because i felt like it would've been a boring climax to the heavy emotions of reader as she was separated from kinich thinking he was dead. does that make sense? like it felt like a boring way to end off y/n's part after building up all these negative thoughts swirling in their mind just for her not to even see kinich come back from war to have those negative thoughts be swooped away from her in a romantic light. it was cute tho, kinich would've been whispering 'im home' as he admired reader as they recovered but i didnt want a calm ending for the story. i wanted a passionate, emotional reunion type :) like very 'light after the storm'-esque type of ending!

some parts of the story i dont like but i feel like is the part i could do for the story was how mavuika defeated the abyss? i CANT WRITE ACTION FOR SHYT!!!! so it took so much deleting and rewriting and paraphrasing it actually got me a headache just to write that small section 😭😭

on a more exciting note, the next thingy ill write is probably for kinich's birthday! im very torn about what ill write and when ill write it because i have exams right after kinichs bday so i dont think ill have time to write for it.

but after i figure out and post a birthday special for kinich, i'll be writing a more angsty, heartbroken-y story kind of related to 'heaven can wait' but if things went wrong. its really not an alternate ending, more of like "if it ended this way, this would've happened." its been a plot thats been marinating in my head for awhile and i think you guys will rlly like it! its gonna be angst with comfort but still sad ending hihi sorry.

i have alot of canon fanfic ideas that i wna write as soon as possible but i feel like i should switch it up and write some modern!au fics. and maybe with other characters (my other favs! capitano, xiao, thoma, etc.). i also feel like i have to prepare a 100 follower special soon but i have nooo idea what to do for it huhu THANK U BTW GUYS FOR 81 FOLLOWERS AAA IM SO TOUCHED

in short, i have a lot and i mean srsly alot of kinich ideas rn but my schedule is gonna be cramped this week. but after ill be free again! my problem is i just dont know what to write first 😔💔

anyway, maybe ill do a poll or something :) ILL SEE WHAT I CAN DO!!

if you've read this far, thank u sm and i appreciate it >< ill do my best to write as much as i can.

[snugglywugglysocialist]

Anguish

You rap three times at the door, wringing your hands in dread for what you're about to be greeted with.

“Well, you look like hell." You say quietly, praying that her sense of humor survived what happened the night before. Casey shoots you a tight smile through the gap of the door, stepping back and allowing it to open fully for you.

“Didn't know you made house calls." She rasps, walking slowly towards the couch in the middle of her living room.

"Only for you." You chide sarcastically, grandiosely bowing in front of her after throwing your bag onto her desk chair. She laughs lightly and clutches her right side, cursing under her breath through clenched teeth. You feel your face drain as you move to sit next to her.

"Did they catch him yet?" You inquire, sitting down carefully as if she may break. She lets her head fall to the back of the couch, closing her eyes and taking in a pained breath before speaking. Your jaw locks in anger as you see her struggle to form the words she’s looking for.

"Nope, no leads either." She says rigidly. You nod in response despite her eyes still being closed. Your eyes rake over the already-blackened bruising that covers her pale skin, only growing more enraged as you move them downward. Casey wheezes and you search for something to say, wanting to drown out the noise of it.

"Why are you staying here if he's still in the wind?" You ask, choking back the ire threatening to lace your words. She frowns and forces her eyes open to meet yours.

"Where else am I gonna go? Do you want me to sleep in my office?" She asks, condescendingly. You’re used to her sharp tongue, but not its use against you. She closes her eyes once more after seeing the shock of her comment materialize in your eyes. You study her turned face in the dull lamplight, realizing her abrasions are even worse than you thought.

Casey winces and guards her sides, pressing her hand into her ribcage until you see tears welling beneath her eyes at the pain of it. You stand to walk to your bag, the sounds of your footsteps swallowed hastily by the oppressive silence in the room. Her eyes shoot open and track you hesitantly as you return to the couch.

You rifle through it for a few moments, trying to find what you’re looking for. Casey’s eyes don’t leave your darkened figure; you can feel the look she’s giving you even with your back to her. You turn to approach her, trying to ignore the way you feel in this moment. The way she looks up at you—dazed and resentful—sends a stab through your gut.

"Get up." You say gently, offering your hand to her. You expected her to ask something or refuse, but she takes your hand without question, standing slowly. You silently confirm that her ribcage isn’t wrapped, and display the compression bandage in your hand.

"They should've given you some of these for your ribs before they discharged you at the hospital." You ramble lowly, feeling strange under her stoic gaze. She nods in understanding, and moans in agony as she tries to raise her shirt. You grab the bottom hem and peel it slowly from her skin, gently raising her arms to fully remove it. She groans, falling towards you as she lays her forearms across her torso.

“I know. You'll feel better after we do this." You coo gently, helping to straighten her body out. She removes her arms and bites her lower lip harshly as you press the wrap into her skin. Her navel muscles tighten as your hand lays across the skin shrouding them, and she struggles to breathe. Knowingly, Casey replaces your hand, securing the end as you begin to slowly bind the length of her ribcage.

You continue wrapping, focusing on the way her face changes when your fingers brush over a particularly tender area. The two-minute long task seems like it takes an hour as you listen to the sounds of suffering leaving her throat.

You round for the final time, and softly secure the end of the bandage. She exhales the breath she’d been holding, and relaxes her shoulders in relief. You move to grab her shirt off the table, and help her back into the worn fabric. It hangs loosely from her lithe figure, and you let your gaze linger for a little too long. You look up to meet her eyes.

"See? I told you." You say with arrogance, trying to pull a smirk from her. She smiles lazily as you brace her body against yours, helping her to the couch.

“Thank you." She whispers, sinking into the leather and giving you a look you’ve never seen from her. You ignore her comment and shove your hands in the pockets of your jeans.

"You should let me stay with you until they catch him." You pivot, searching her eyes for an answer. Casey scoffs and turns her head, catching her tongue between her teeth. She purses her cut lips and nods sharply.

"If you insist." She mutters, her face still turned away from you.

"Go to sleep." You state curtly. She lets a barely audible response leave her lips before letting her eyes flutter closed. Your heart beats wildly against your chest with enmity as you watch her struggle to get comfortable. You curse yourself silently for not showing up a lot sooner.

[teaveetamer]

Yeah about the Bernie thing, it was so fucked up for people to send death threats and harass fans of hers. I know they especially went after women, who even when posting privately without naming anyone, just vaguely talking about it were called out and harassed, even when they only posted about how concerned they were about the misogyny and violence against Bernie, especially since people have made some seriously disturbing and violent comments and art about her. I know there was one guy who even said he “hates abuse victims like her.” Even the guy who made the original video told people to stop dogpiling her fans. People seriously get so cruel when it comes to female characters.

Honestly this is why 3H discourse is so fucking loony and thus point because when I checked that tweet it was a *lot* of terminally online Bernie fans accusing OP of being a misogynist and blah blah etc. And honestly, just speaking from my own personal experiences, I’m like not hugely sympathetic to Bernie fans rn because good fucking god some of the terminally online ones have been absolutely unbearable since CYL.

Like, you can’t do anything 3H without it turning into some ungodly ouroboros of wank and harassment that could be entirely avoided if people just didn’t take the waifu chess game so goddamn seriously. You know how long I stay upset about my fave not winning a popularity contest? Like a day. You know what I do when someone says they don’t like my fave? Fucking nothing. You know what I would do if someone bought a Dimitri or Dedue or Leo or Takumi figurine and smashed it with a giant rock? Say “Wow what a waste of your own money, and you know that broken plastic is going to sit in our oceans for the next ten thousand years slowly breaking up into microscopic molecules that will eventually make its way into our blood and guts and poison us all except oh wait that’s already happened our entire society is in a death spiral toward extinction so a handful of billionaires can have slightly larger piles of money to snuggle with as our oceans boil away and all the polar bears die and nothing is ever going to be done about it because it’s not politically or monetarily profitable to actually give a shit about the survival of the species anymore so actually you know what my dude good on you for wringing three seconds of joy out of destroying something you paid for with your own money because if we’re all gonna die we might as well have fun on the way down”

You know. What most people my age tend to think about in these sorts of situations.

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

Wrong Name // 2

Pairing: Shane Walsh x Reader

Summary: After what happened between Shane and the reader, he makes it his priority to get back into his wife's good graces.

Warnings: Minors DNI! 18+, Oral (male & female receiving), dirty talk, unprotected sex (be smart)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part6 Part 7

I really had no idea where this was gonna go but shit, I just wrote the best smut I've ever written in a while 😅

MASTERLIST

----

“I’m pregnant.”

“I know, I saw the signs.”

Lori and I are currently handwashing everyone’s clothes in the tub far away from the rest of the group. For a week straight I watched her run away to vomit and I noticed her boobs had grown out some more but who was I to point those things out to the woman that slept with my husband?

“You’re not mad?” wringing Shane’s t-shirt to get rid of the heavy water I looked over at her with an obviously annoyed look on my face.

“What do you think? How would you feel if I had slept with your husband and had to tell you that I’m pregnant with his baby?” she looked around hoping that nobody was close enough to hear me lashing out at her.

“Could you keep it down, I’m not sure who the father is.”

“Oh please Lori, you know who the father is already, you just wish that it wasn’t his. You should tell Rick what’s going on before Shane finds out.” I dropped the damp shirt in the basket with the others that were washed and waiting to be hung to dry.

“I’m sorry Y/N, how many times do you want me to apologize? You forgave him but not me, how does that work?” 

“Because for the life of me I can’t understand how my best friend could do this to me and don’t think just because I share a bed with the guy means that a big part of me doesn’t resent him.” as if the two men could tell that we were talking about them, Shane and Rick strolled over, big smiles plastered on their faces.

“Hey you.” Rick kissed Lori and Shane greeted me with a kiss on the top of my head as he sat down on the tree trunk beside me. 

“You two look like crap.”

“Smell like it also, what happened out there?” both men are covered in blood, walker remains, dirt and grime. Lori physically gagged at the scent both men sprouted and I couldn’t help but laugh, it truly is disgusting.

“We ran into a small herd of walkers at the abandoned supply store, nothing we couldn’t handle.” 

“I don’t know about Lori but I cannot handle this smell for much longer, go take a shower. Beg Hershel to use his bathroom if you have too.” 

“Alright, alright, I’ll go talk to Hershel. Lori can I speak to you alone please?” Lori nodded and he helped her up, she looked me dead in the eyes as she picked up the basket of clothes to hang on the line.

Don’t say anything

“We can talk while I hang these up.” the couple walked off leaving Shane and I alone under the tree. At first I stayed quiet, watching the midday sun shine its light on the vast field ahead of us but then he decided to open his mouth.

“You alright?”

No, you got her pregnant asshole

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You swapped with Andrea to keep watch last night and I haven’t seen you at all before I left with Rick this morning.” he reached for my hand to hold it and I hesitantly let him. Sensing my slight discomfort he sighed.

“You’re still mad at me, I know and I completely understand it but I miss my wife. You remember her, the always smiling, rational, loving, compassionate, fun woman that I married.”

“Uh, I’m still fun, Walsh.” 

“Y/N the last time I saw you had fun was at the county fair months ago.”

“Obviously! That was before the world went to shit around us, now I’m out here shooting zombies and hoping for the best.” that is true, my main focus is to stay alive, which now that I think about it, is a lot more work than just pulling the trigger on myself.

If I were to just end it all right now, I’d be doing it on my terms rather than being mauled by a herd of walkers while we’re out here fighting to survive in this cold world.

“You look damn good doing it too, you’ve gotten much better with a firearm almost as good as you are with a needle.” he nudged my shoulder with his gaining my attention. Finally allowing myself to look at him I felt a part of me go soft, here in this moment, Shane and I felt like the old us. Him smiling down at me while I stared up into his eyes as if we both had not a care in the world.

“Go pat yourself on the back for that one, you taught me how to shoot.” his face was covered in blood smears but that didn’t stop him from leaning in to kiss the corner of my lips. 

“Don’t, you’re dirty.” he continued to leave kisses all over my face making me giggle at his actions, lightly shoving him in the chest. He didn’t let up at all until we both fell off the log and into the muddy puddle, laughing like two idiots.

“We’re both dirty now.” his forearm was under my head as he laid on his side, lightly tracing the outline of my lips with his thumb.

“I’m still not kissing you with blood on your face. Do you have any idea how disgusting that is?”

“Blah, blah, blah.” Shane buried his face in my neck and the scruff from his beard tickled my neck and he kept grazing it against my skin.

“You need to take several showers.” giving in to his affection I wrapped my arms around his broad upper body, holding him on top of me completely ignoring the fact that he’s getting me more dirty with the blood on him and the mud beneath my back.

“Care to join me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What are you two doing?” Carl stood to my left curiously watching us as we just laid here in mud.

“I’m trying to get uncle Shane to go take a shower but he refuses to let me go.” Shane scoffed and removed himself from on top of me and got on his feet.

“Fine, fine, I’m going.” he helped me up and I groaned in discomfort as the muddy water ran down my back, I grabbed onto his forearm before he had the chance to walk off to the house.

“Screw that, you’re showering after me, mud is in places it shouldn’t be.” I all but ran to the house and greeted the elderly man on the porch.

“Hey Hershel, do you mind if I use your shower?” He waved me off after telling me that I didn't need to ask and boy was I grateful for that. Maggie and Glenn were making out in the doorway that led to the kitchen, they jumped apart most likely thinking it was her father.

Passing the pair I took the stairs two at a time and rounded the corner, letting myself into the unoccupied bathroom. The first thing to come off were my boots, then my jeans, shirt and underwear. I pulled the shower curtain back and stepped into the tub, turning the water on, letting the cold water run from my head to my toes.

The door opened and someone walked in and judging by the tall masculine outline of their shadow, I knew it was Shane. Cheekily he pulled the curtain back a bit, sticking his head in to look at me which earned him a flick of water in his face.

“Oh come on, I just want to spend time with you.”

“We can spend time together, with our clothes on.” rolling his eyes at me he disappeared behind the curtain, the clanking sound of his belt buckle and zipper being undone let me know he was undressing to get in.

“When will we get the chance to shower together after today?” he stepped in behind me, his calloused hands finding their resting spot on my hips. Shane kissed the back of my neck a couple times, pulling me flush against his towering frame.

I’m trying to think of anything and everything under the sun to not focus on his semi hard on pressed against my ass but it was getting harder to do so with each kiss and graze of his teeth on my cool flesh. 

“You look so beautiful darlin’.” he ran his hands all over my body, touching every inch of bare skin he had access to. A gasp fell past my lips feeling him cup my breasts, giving them a firm squeeze.

“Are you okay with this?" 

The part of me that's still angry is screaming at me to say no and finish take my shower but the other part of me, the one in dire need of sex won this argument.

"Yes." Completely relaxing into his touch I leaned my head back on his shoulder while I held onto his toned thighs, grinding myself against him. 

"Turn around." doing as told I was caught off guard by him smashing his lips against mine in a brutal kiss.

My hands roamed his well sculpted frame, his pectoral region, abdomen and his prominent v-line that led to his very eager friend.

"Fuck Y/N." he moaned my name against my lips the moment I held onto his cock, slowly pumping him. Hearing him moan for me sent a wave of confidence over me and it felt great.

"Say it again Shane, who's making you feel this way?" 

"Y/N...mmhmm" I cupped his balls in my free hand massaging it, still pumping his heavy cock with the other. Shane threw his head back, eyes closed, mouth open filling the bathroom with his grunts and moans.

I quickly shut the water off, not wanting to waste anymore of it during what Shane and I are about to do. 

"Darlin'." His eyes followed me as I lowered myself onto my knees in the tub, Shane lightly gripped onto my hair. 

With our eyes locked together I licked the underside of his cock from its base to the tip and spit on it before going down on him until he hit the back of my throat.

"Fuck..me" with my cheeks hollowed I bobbed my head, sucking off the part of him that fit in my mouth and pumped what didn't.

With each slurp of his dick I felt myself get more aroused, his grunts of approval egging me on further. Holding onto my hair tighter he still my movements and started fucking my mouth. 

"You're my little cockslut, look at you." Drool leaked from my mouth making a mess on my face but that was the last thing from my mind. He thrusted himself all the way down my throat and I gagged around him as he stilled, holding my face against his groin, listening to the sound of me trying to breathe around his cock.

He removed himself and I gasped filling air into my lungs. Shane kissed my lips pulling me onto my feet as he traded places with me, easing me to lean against the tiled wall.

He hooked my leg over his shoulder and kissed the inside of my thighs, his fingers running through my slick folds. He started circling my bundle of nerves admiring the perfect view of my dripping cunt before him.

"Shane…" I needed him, his finger, tongue, something to help me over the edge. He continued to tease me slowly, inserting two of his fingers into me.

"You're so tight baby, relax for me darlin'." with his fingers leisurely pumping and scissoring in me Shane latched onto my clit, sucking and flicking his tongue sending shivers up my spine.

My hips bucked on his hand and face as he continued to eat me out. He added a third finger tearing a moan from my chest and I gripped onto his curls keeping him in place. 

With every thrust of his fingers and swipe of his tongue I was brought closer and closer to the edge of my climax and by the way my leg shook and toes curled we both knew I wasn't going to last much longer.

Shane removed his hand from my overly stimulated cunt and sucked my juices off of each finger as he stood up. My high is fading away but he didn't seem to care about that.

"Damn you Shane." He had my leg hooked over his forearm holding me open as he adjusted himself between my legs.

Shane smirked at me running the tip of his cock in my juices, coating himself in it before he slid into my needy hole. Both of us threw our heads back in ecstasy from the much needed contact.

He didn't give me time to adjust to his size as he began fucking into me at a steady pace, nice and deep. 

I missed this more than anything.

"Fuck." my eyes focused on his dick sliding in and out of me coated in my arousal, the sinful sound of skin slapping skin mixed with the squelching sound of my drenched cunt filled the room.

Shane slowly came to a stop dropping my leg to spin me around. With my palms on the wall I spread my legs wider and pushed my hips back giving him better access to me. He pushed his cock in again and got back to pounding into me, slapping my ass.

"Baby…" my legs started shaking as I felt myself getting closer and closer to my much needed orgasm. Shane nipped and sucked at my neck and shoulder, moaning at the grip my walls had on him. 

He removed my hands from the wall and brought them behind my back causing me to lean forward with my hard nipples on the cold tiles. I could tell that he was just as close as I am by his sloppy thrusts.

"I'm-"

"I know darlin' come with me." 

My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I came undone on his cock, my walls fluttering around him as I tried to ride through my high. He thrust a few more times before burying himself deep within me as he emptied his load in me, my walls milking him dry of his release.

My name fell from his lips like a prayer as he caught his breath, burying his face in the crook of my neck. 

Still on cloud nine I turned my face towards his and lazily kissed him, burnt out from his intense fucking. 

"We should actually get cleaned up." Shane pulled out and we both helped each other get clean, him doing most of the work for me as my legs still shook from my orgasm.

I tried to enjoy the post sex moment with him and I did until I remembered what Lori told me earlier. 

She’s pregnant and her child's father is not the man she vowed to love but my husband and she has yet to tell either of them that she is.

"Everything alright, you're quiet?"

"Yeah, yeah everything's fine, just catching my breath." 

Translation, no everything is absolutely NOT fine. Whatever Lori does, she better decide to tell the truth before I tell them.

----

TWD Taglist:

@positive-squid @harrysthiccthighss

[zhongliologist]

Breeding Kink Pt. 2 | Dragon!Zhongli

Pairing: Zhongli x fem!reader

Genre: SMUTTTT!!

Words: 5.2k

A/N: Oh god i have no braincells anymore. Zhongli fcked with my braincells as well. Here ya go. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Happy Birthday as well.

Warning: THIS IS AN 18+ FIC, SO MINORS OUT THERE, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

PART 1 HERE

*

It was already deep into the night.

The last of the busy market kiosks has died down, the golden glow of their lanterns flickered off for the day, while the late-night loiterers had gone to rest at their station as silence and the sound of crickets settled in. The harbor has truly gone to sleep after a rough day’s work, and will rise once again at early dawn.

Yet inside the bedchambers of a certain married couple, things were still heating up.

“Z-Zhongli…! Please…!”

You held on to the silken sheets tightly with face flushed and sweating. Every now and then, a moan would escape your lips, savoring the moment where ecstasy was at its peak. It felt good—really good—as your husband Zhongli thrusted sharply into you.

“YN…” he growled beside your ear as he bent down, kissing the bare skin of your shoulders. “YN…I’m close…haa…”

He could feel all the pleasure welling up inside of him. You were holding on to him like a vice grip, as if wringing him out of his seed and coaxing him to come inside you. Zhongli felt his dick twitch at the thought of filling you up, pushing him closer to his climax.

“Aahhh…so g-good….mmnn….! Zhongli…! I’m gonna—”

“My love…I-I…!”

—!

“Mama? Papa…?”

A knock at their door, followed by a small voice stopped the both of them in their tracks.

Oh no, not again…

Looking at each other, you and Zhongli immediately scrambled to compose yourselves.

“Yuqing…ah, please stay where you are—"

“Honey, just a second! Let me…let me just find my slippers—”

Hurriedly, you grabbed your discarded robe on the floor and put on your sandals, while your husband raced to the adjacent bathroom to relieve himself. “Love, I’ll be there in a moment. Please take Yuqing back to her room in the meantime,” was what he said.

As you opened the door, you were greeted by curious amber eyes—the same as her father’s—who seemingly stared at you as if trying to assess the situation. She was carrying her favorite plushie, a geovishap hatchling, for some reason, while you knelt down and caressed her cheeks gently.

“Yuqing? What’s wrong?” you asked her, “It’s way past your bedtime.”

“Something jumped from the window, Mama…! I…I don’t want to go back!” She replied, almost in a whisper as she held on to the plushie tightly.

Your daughter’s words immediately caught your attention. It could just be a squirrel, or maybe something more dangerous. Nevertheless, you have to go check it out.

“Alright, honey. Let’s see what it is,” you replied as you carried her on your arms. “Mama and Papa can easily hunt monsters down!”

Yuqing blinked at you. “Hm? But where’s Papa?”

“Oh, uh…he just needs to pee,” you replied awkwardly, not totally forgetting what you two were doing a while ago.

By the time you arrived at Yuqing’s bedroom, you were greeted by a calico cat which was carrying her own young into the room, staring at you both with scrutinizing eyes. It seemed to have taken a liking to the room and decided to take shelter there. You instantly knew what was the matter.

“It’s a mama cat!” Yuqing exclaimed happily, jumping from your grasps as you muttered “be careful!” at the ecstatic child.

“Don’t come too close to it, honey,” you told her, sitting on the bed as you watched your daughter crouch near the animal to observe it. “The mama cat doesn’t like it if you touch her kittens. She might scratch you.”

“Oh…” your daughter murmured disappointingly, and then returned to your side when she had enough watching.

Looking down to her, you could really see how much Yuqing resembled Zhongli—the same eyes, the same dignified yet gentle countenance. Her hair was a little lighter but it’ll probably turn as dark as Zhongli’s when she’s older. You smiled at the thought of watching your daughter grow—a few years ago, she was still so small and fragile as you held her for the first time, but now, she’ll be turning six, and then eleven, and then little will you know, she has become such a fine lady.

Pulling her into an embrace, you caught the child off guard as you smothered her with kisses.

“Mama!” She protested, but was giggling at the same time. “Mama…what are you doing!”

“I just love my dearest Yuqing!” you exclaimed, but then stopped to pat her head gently. “Now, are you still scared?”

The dark-haired girl shook her head with a smile. “I’m ok now, Mama! It was just a cat.”

“Alright,” you smiled as you began tucking her in again. “We’ll talk in the morning what we’ll do with the cat, but right now, it’s time for you to sleep. Little girls need to sleep for them to grow big, okay?”

“Understood! Good night then, Mama!” Yuqing replied underneath her blanket, as you gently soothed her head. The whole time, you continued to do it until she had finally fallen asleep, soft snores coming from the small child which made you smile warmly.

By the time you returned to your bedroom, you could see that the bathroom lights were still on. You were waiting for Zhongli to swing by Yuqing’s room earlier but for some reason, he’s been caught up in the bathroom this whole time. It also seemed like your husband had heard you enter the room and began calling for you.

“Dear…! Perhaps you could come here for a moment?”

Curious about what was going on, you then stepped into the bathroom and only to be greeted by a much larger, more draconic Zhongli. You could only stare at the large protruding horns on his head, the scales on his arms and legs, and the tail that was swinging back and forth between his legs. Not to mention the large thing on his crotch that made you do a double take at the mere sight of it.

Zhongli closed his eyes as soon as he noticed your stunned expression. Despite how he looks, he still had a bit of his self-control intact.

“YN, I think we have a problem here,” he told you as calmly as he could.

“I might be going into heat again.”

*

It was finally D-Day.

The both of you spent the last week trying to prepared for this, because unlike the first time, you had responsibilities. For one, Yuqing had to be taken elsewhere and away from the carnage. It will not bode well if your child is there while your husband is being one horny dragon.

The people both of you know where highly dangerous though. Among the rejected list was Childe, Hu Tao, and Venti, with the last one loudly lamenting how he couldn’t have fun with Yuqing in Mondstadt. Keqing and Ningguang would be great but they’re busy with work, while the adepti wouldn’t have enough skills and patience to babysit a child for a week, even if it was the child of the former geo archon. That’s why in the end, you asked Lumine and Aether to take care of your daughter for a while—they were at least, safe enough not to put Yuqing in danger. Hopefully.

On the other hand, you had to prepare yourself for another bang of your life. The first time had caught you off guard, but this time, you were prepared to satiate your half-dragon husband to the fullest. You had also prepared yourself to conceive another child. Well, you really were planning to, but it was the night when Yuqing interrupted you two.

“Dear?” A head peered into the kitchen—or rather, a head with two horns.

Zhongli’s dragon features seemed to be staying longer and longer the nearer his heat approaches. Luckily enough, it wasn’t much of a rare sight in Liyue.

“Oh, morning, Zhongli. Should I brew you some tea?” you asked, busying yourself with breakfast for your family of three.

“It’s alright. I’ll do it,” he replied as he stepped in beside you, preparing the hot water to be boiled.

For a while, the both of you stayed like this in silence. You were concentrating on not getting the congee burned while he was trying to get the proper temperature of the water.

In the end, it was Zhongli who broke the silence.

“Will you be alright later?”

You whipped your head to his direction. “H-huh? What? Me? Oh, I’ll be fine!”

“Are you sure?” he asked, turning to you and caressing your cheeks with the tip of his sharp claws. “If only I could assure you that it will be painless.”

“Zhongli,” you called his name firmly as you flipped an egg. “You have never hurt me, and you never will. I survived the first time, right? We have Yuqing running around after all.”

Your words seemed to have magically melted his worries away, no matter how tacky you thought there were. But you didn’t know that Zhongli simply needed your assurance that it will be okay, otherwise, he’d go into a spiral of worry. Comforted by your presence, he crept his arms around you, hugging you from your side.

“Ah, my wife…my lovely wife…” he muttered happily as he nestled his head on your shoulder, savoring your scent and your warmth. “You’re really my wife…”

You giggled at his sudden show of playfulness. “That I am, sir.”

For Zhongli to be this affectionate, it seemed his heat has really gotten to him. Normally, he’ll reserve these kinds of actions for the both of you late at night, but right now, he’s incredibly clingly and wouldn’t stop following you wherever you go. For the most part, he really loves taking in your scent and running his hands around your body.

Soon enough, you hear the loud and rapid padding of feet on the floor as it dashed towards the kitchen where the two of you were. In a few moments, Zhongli was face to face with his own daughter who grinned gleefully at him.

“Mama, Papa!” Yuqing exclaimed as she clung to you like her father.

“Now young lady, what brings you here early in the morning?” Zhongli asked mischievously, still hugging you and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Lumine and Aether! They’re coming right? They’re coming!��� she almost shouted, arm tightly adhered to your leg.

“In about half an hour, darling,” you replied. “Now, are you both aware that I’m trying to cook here? I can’t move!”

Instead of letting go however, Zhongli tightened his hold of you while nuzzling deeper on your shoulder while Yuqing did the same on your leg. You grumbled. “Like father, like daughter.”

Giggling, Yuqing glanced at her father who was tightly clinging to you like she was.

“Papa, do you like Mama?”

Zhongli, for a moment, smiled at her warmly before replying. “Very much so, my dear.”

You could only hide your flustered expression at his words. But of course, it made your heart skip a beat, even after marrying him and having his child, Zhongli could still make you feel this way with just a few words.

It was a good thing that Yuqing changed the subject before your heart could explode.

“Papa! You have horns!” she exclaimed and pointed at Zhongli’s head.

“Oh? Is this your first time seeing it?” he asked as he knelt to the floor. “Do you want to touch it?”

Zhongli could definitely see his daughter’s amber eyes sparkling with curiosity as she slowly inched her way closer to him. Yuqing may look like him, but she definitely has your temperament. The way she sees the world with so much wonder and excitement reminded Zhongli of you.

“Can I, Papa? Can I?” she asked, her small fingers reaching out for them.

“Yes, you may, my dear.”

Bending down, Zhongli felt Yuqing glide her fingers at smooth surface of the horns. “Be careful though, the tips should be sharp enough to wound you.”

Filled with wonder, the child gazed at Zhongli with amazement. “Papa, are you a dragon?!”

“I can become one.”

“Does…! Does that mean I can be a dragon too?!”

Aahh…You smiled at the two of them as you finished the last of your cooking. “Alright now. Let’s have breakfast. The twins will be here soon if we don’t hurry up!”

*

“Aether! Lumine!”

The dark-haired girl immediately ran towards the twins right after you opened the door to greet them, incredibly excited for the week ahead. Aether scooped her into his arms right away as Lumine pinched her cheek for being so adorable.

“We’re extremely grateful to you two for agreeing to take care of Yuqing,” you told them bashfully. “It was hard to think of anyone reliable and willing to do it in such a short notice.”

“It’s okay, YN,” Lumine replied, “We’d love to have Yuqing around anyway! Right, Aether?”

Distracted with playing with Yuqing, Aether turned to Lumine who was looking at him pointedly. “Huh? Oh! Oh yeah! We’re gonna play a lot!”

“Let’s play house again, Aether!” Yuqing interrupted, “I’ll be the mommy, Lumine will be the aunty and you’re the daddy!”

A large, tall shadow loomed over the twins from behind you. “I prefer if you’d arrange the designations in a different way.”

“Oh, Zhongli.” You turned to your husband who was menacing enough to make the male twin tremble like a leaf, especially in his half-dragon form.

“M-Mr. Z-Zhongli!” Aether immediately felt a chill run down his spine. If anything, he felt an overprotective dad is way scarier than all the monsters he battled so far.

“Good morning Mr. Zhongli,” Lumine greeted the man calmly with a smile. “You don’t have to worry about anything! Yuqing can be the mommy, I’ll be the daddy and Aether’s the dog.”

“Good.”

You could only smile awkwardly at the whole exchange. If this continues on, Zhongli might change his mind and insist his daughter to stay.

“Alright, here’s all her clothes for the week as well as other stuff she needs,” you interrupted as you shoved a bag on Lumine’s hands. “Please don’t hesitate to call us if something happens.”

Lumine only glanced at you with a plastered smile. Bothering them isn’t something she’d really want to do.

“We will, YN,” Aether replied and then exchanged looks with his sister. “I think it’s time for us to take off now though.”

“Alright. Come on, Yuqing, let mama and papa kiss you goodbye,” you told them as you reached out for your daughter who easily climbed out of Aether’s arms.

Crouching down, you and Zhongli embraced your daughter tightly, kissing her cheeks several times until she began protesting. With Zhongli chuckling, he patted her head gently while reminding her of several things.

“Now young lady, be of your best behavior. Don’t make Lumine and Aether worry too much.

“I will, Papa! Can I have almond tofu as a reward then?”

Zhongli smiled at her amusingly. “Alright. Do we have a contract then?”

“Yes! It’s a pinky promise!” Yuqing held out her pinky and linked it with Zhongli’s, who was careful not to scratch her with his claws.

“Don’t forget to drink your vitamins and eat your vegetables, ok? And sleep on time. Be careful not to go anywhere without telling Lumine or Aether!”

Yuqing sighed, “Yes, yes, Mama. I will.”

Ruffling her head, you finally kissed her forehead while Zhongli did the same.

“Don’t forget to have fun!”

As she ran off to Lumine’s side, the both of you stood up.

“We’ll be going then. See you after a week!” Aether exclaimed as they began to take the steps down the porch.

“Bye, bye, Mama, Papa!”

With that, the three of them disappeared and went off their way.

Glancing at your husband, it had finally dawned on you that this was only the beginning.

“So, should we get started?”

He asked, and you froze.

*

“W-wait…! Zhongli!”

“What’s the matter?”

Your husband asked you, as if he wasn’t pinning you against the wall, nuzzling against your neck as he took in your scent. You could feel his warm breath against your pulse, his hands on your waist as he continued to pepper small, faint kisses on your skin.

“It’s…it’s the middle of the day…a-and…and…!”

“You never had an issue with that… are you getting shy, my love?”

You could sense the teasing tone in his voice as he nibbled on your ear, without ever the intention of removing himself from you. Flustered, you pursed your lips as you bit down a moan.

“N-No, I’m not! It’s just…!”

“It’s just what?”

Zhongli smirked at your unexpected bashfulness, urging him to tease you more to see more of that adorable expression of yours.

“I-I mean, we just sent off Yuqing…and they might return or something—”

“Oh, they won’t.” Zhongli gave your jaw a small hickey. “Or at least I’m sure they are well aware not to bother us.”

“H-Huh…?”

Without furnishing you an answer, he simply knelt down before you and wrapped his arms around your thighs to hold you down. Looking down, you could see him smirking mischievously at you, making you gulp.

“Why don’t we get you ready, my love?”

Slipping his head underneath your skirt, you instantly felt his lips on your thighs as he kissed his way up towards your core. You could feel yourself melting at the heat of the situation; the sensation of his warm tongue prodding your clothed entrance.

“Z-Zhongli…! Mnhh…!”

Even with your underwear on, you could easily feel him stimulate your sensitive clit as he circled his tongue around before sucking it. Your knees buckled immediately as you found your hands holding on to his horns, careful not to pull too much.

“You’re so drenched here, YN,” he told you, his voice vibrating against your sensitive parts.

“D-Don’t say that! O-Ohh…! Fuck!”

You couldn’t even tell him off properly as soon as he slid of your underwear and began to tease your hole with his tongue. You could feel him go in and out as his warmth filled you up. But it wasn’t enough, of course. After getting a taste of the real thing, nothing could satiate you other than him.

“Zhongli…oh god! Ah—!”

Without stopping, he continued to lap on your juices and stimulate you until you were at the edge of orgasm. You could feel your legs grow weak and the only thing keeping you from falling to the floor was his tight grip on you as he ruthlessly ate you out like a hungry man.

Peeking from underneath your skirt, Zhongli watched as he gradually pushed you closer and closer to your climax. His bright amber eyes filled with lust as he stared at your half-lidded eyes and trembling lips; crying his name out loud over and over again. He wanted to take you then and there, push his cock inside you until you were filled to the brim; his hard on was excruciatingly painful inside his pants, but he had to be patient and get you ready for him.

“Come for me, love,” he muttered, circling his tongue around your clit once more and sucking it.

It only took an instant for you to shiver and tremble in pleasure as you felt your orgasm wash over you like a tidal wave. Your skin felt like a surge of electricity passed over you as your knees buckled and your arms held on to his shoulders to stop you from falling over.

Removing himself from underneath your skirt, Zhongli then scooped your weak figure and carried you on his arms towards the sofa. He had you sitting on his lap facing him while you encircled your arms around his shoulders and waiting for your high to calm down.

For a while, the both of you stayed like this. Zhongli kept on giving you small pecks on your neck and shoulders, slowly divesting you of your clothes as he went around your body. It was slow and sensual; unlike the first time he was in heat.

“H-Hey…you too…” you purred, kissing the underside of his jaw.

He only hummed at you; his hands busy with getting your skirt off of you. “Yes?”

“Let me undress you too.”

Zhongli reigned in his urges as soon as he heard your suggestion. His face flushed as he watched you slowly remove his tie and unbutton his shirt to reveal his toned chest. Groaning at the feeling of your hands on his bare skin, he knew he only had a few moments left before all his self-control could fly off the window. But it was incredible, he could only feel himself grow even harder.

Soon enough, you were already on the floor kneeling before him. Zhongli felt himself tense up at what you were about to do, but had to strength left to stop you from doing it. Silently, he watched as you glide your hands on his things and then to the prolific bulge on his pants. You could feel him poke you earlier while you were sitting on his lap, which gave you the idea of blowing him off.

Gradually, you undid his belt and pants and finally take out his monstrosity of a cock. Zhongli gave a guttural groan as he felt your hands pump his shaft tentatively, his claws biting at the soft leather of the sofa.

It wasn’t the first time you saw his cock, and while it was impressive in normal days, the one right before you was definitely befitting of a dragon. You hesitated.

H-how did this thing fit inside of me before?!

Nevertheless, you continued on. It was massive but it was definitely hot, seeing Zhongli sitting there in front of you with a flushed face and his cock out. Timidly, you gave the tip a small peck as you slowly allowed your tongue to glide over it.

“Y-YN…that’s…!”

Empowered by his reactions, you then licked the underside of his shaft until it was glistening wet with your saliva. Eventually, precum began to ooze out of the tip and curiously, you began licking it as well, sucking it in the process.

“Ughh…! F-fuck…YN…! I’m really—”

Trying to bob your head up and down, you could only fit so much of him inside your mouth as your jaw tried to accommodate his size. But you felt your core tighten up and become wet, thinking that this cock will eventually fill you up to the brim with his cum.

Zhongli was rapidly losing it. He wanted to cum, but he wanted to cum inside of you and have you bear his child. He wanted to see your cunt filled with his seed until it oozes out of you, and then plug his cock back inside of you to fill you up once again.

No, this won’t do.

“YN…! Y-YN…! P-Please stop! Mnnh—!”

He held your chin to make you stop—the way your lips left a trail of saliva to his dick tempted him push it back inside your mouth—but he had to end it there, right before he came inside your mouth. Slowly he guided you towards him; confused as to why he stopped you right before he was about to come, you moved back to his lap where he gently caressed you and wiped his fluids from your cheeks.

“Let me kiss you, my love.”

In a soft and gentle kiss, Zhongli captured your lips. You could feel it radiating with love and warmth as he slid his lips over yours, his tongue darting inside, as if trying to fill his senses of you and only you. You both kissed until your lips were swollen, until you felt him rub his shaft against you unconsciously, making you moan in the kiss.

“Z-Zhongli…” you gasped for air. “Are you…holding yourself back?”

With those amber eyes, he gazed at you seriously—all the while keeping your lips closed to his.

“Is it a sin to treasure you so much?”

His words caught you off guard, but eventually, you smiled. Zhongli never failed to express his love for you. He was gentle and kind, a good husband and an even better father. Brushing a few stray locks of hair from his sweat-riddled face, you kissed his forehead as a way to show how much you appreciated his thoughtfulness.

“Thank you for thinking about me, Zhongli,” you remarked, “But right now, I really want you to let loose and fill me up completely with you.”

With eyes blown wide, Zhongli felt himself twitch at your words—his arousal no longer hidden. Grabbing the back of your head, he then crashed his lips against yours in a searing kiss lidden with passion and lust. He bit and licked on your lips while his hand groped your full breasts, pinching at your nipples to make you gasp against his lips.

“Then so be it,” he smirked. “I’ll make you completely mine.”  

Guiding his shaft to your slick entrance, he pushed himself inside of you in one go—making you squeal at the sudden sensation of being penetrated. It took some time for you to accommodate his large cock, but eventually, your cunt was drenched so much that it hadn’t become much of an issue.

“Z-Zhongli…! Oh god—fuck! …s-so big…!”

You began riding him, moving up and down on his lap while Zhongli continued to make you feel good by playing with your breasts. You could feel his sharp claws make indentations on your skin, but not hard enough to draw blood, but it was a strange sensation which only heightened the pleasure of having his dragon cock thrusted inside of you.

“Hnnghh!! Y-YN…!” Zhongli winced at the sudden tightness, and began to distract himself from cumming by licking on your pert nipples until they were red and sensitive.

With pleasure attacking you from different parts, you could only mewl as Zhongli gradually turned you into a lewd mess as you felt him twitch inside of you. Soon enough, he’ll be cumming inside of you, and that would the first among many others for this entire week. If his first heat said anything, Zhongli wouldn’t stop mating with you until you were fertilized with his seed.

The thought did nothing but coax you to your climax. You could feel yourself tighten around him as he pounded into you mercilessly, your juices mixing together. Zhongli was also close. He was already extremely aroused, and it wouldn’t take long for him to climax.

“A-Ah—! YN….! L-love…I’m…I’m close…!”

He muttered with face flushed and breath ragged.

“Yes…! Oh god, yes…! P-Please, Zhongli…! Ah—! F-fill me…fill me up…!”

In just a few thrusts, the both of you came at the same time. He pushed deep inside of you and came; his warmth filling you up until he was spent. You were still shivering with pleasure when he pulled you in for a kiss, his tongue once again ravishing you with so much intensity that it could be argued that he made you come once again with just a kiss.

Reeling in from the afterglow, you could still feel him hot and hard inside of you, as his breathed hard against your neck. You were no different though—the way your mind was still covered with a haze of lust, or the way his cock inside of you felt so good as it hit a particularly good spot. The aphrodisiac you got from Dr. Baizhu seemed to be quite effective.

Removing yourself from his embrace, you staggered to stand up with your limp legs, but managed to crawl on fours right beside him.

Zhongli was both bewildered and disappointed to have your warm body away from him, but when you pushed your ass before him and gazed at him with sultry eyes, he felt his heart rate pick up the pace.

It was embarrassing to show your cunt dripping with your juices and his cum, but you didn’t really care much. You were too entrenched with arousal to feel embarrassment.

“Z-Zhongli…let’s…let’s do it again…?”

Grabbing your ass, he spread you out even more, and even slapped your butt lightly. Zhongli could definitely see his cum dripping out of you and promptly scooped it up with his finger and pushed it back inside of you.

“P-Please…! Zhongli…I—!”

He smirked. “Very well.”

Without warning, he slid himself back inside of you; making you bite back the remaining words. It felt incredible having him inside. It was hot, as if you were burned and electrified at the same time. Your mouth hardly had the time to close as he continued to piston in and out of you.

This time however, Zhongli began playing with your oversensitive clit, groaning loudly at how you tightened your walls around him. You squealed in delight as his cock hit a particularly good spot, making you cum sooner than expected.

“Oh…o-oh god! Z-Zhongli….! Zhongli…! A-ah…!”

Yet despite your premature climax, he continued on—thrusting inside of you and prolonging your orgasm. It was so good you could feel tears pooling the side of your eyes as he plowed your sensitive cunt.

“You came, didn’t you?” he asked, his lips once again on yours. “I’ll make you come again soon enough.”

True to his promised, Zhongli picked up his pace and fucked you as roughly as he could. You knew there will be bruises after this but the pleasure was greater than anything for you to care about. The way his cock just fills you up, hitting your g-spot over and over again relentlessly, or the way his groans just sends shivers down your spine.

“F-Fuck…! Fuck…!Z-Zhongli! I’m—! I’m gonna…!”

“Yes, love...! Haa….come for me…! I’ll fill you up with my seed…”

Once again, you came from the overstimulation—your arms failing as the pleasure was greater than anything you experienced so far.

“F-fuck…YN…a-ah—!”

With that, Zhongli suddenly bit your shoulder as he pumped more of his seed inside of you, which only overflowed from your hole. You mewled at the mixture of pain and pleasure, unable to distinguish the one from the other, but you knew it felt extremely good.

Zhongli was silent for a while as he lapped on the bitemarks he had made. He was glad that he hadn’t bit too hard, but for some reason, he also liked how you were marked as his.

“Allow me to take you to the bedroom,” he whispered to you as you nodded your head groggily. Sleep was beginning to approach you fast.

Unsheathing himself from you, you winced at the sudden feeling of emptiness. But it was immediately remedied by the feeling of his warm body near you as he carried you to your shared bedroom. Slowly, he laid you down on the soft mattress and eventually joined you there, embracing you from the back.

“Let’s rest for now,” he muttered right before your eyelids fell heavy. “We’ll need it for later.”

And he was right.

For the next few days, the two of you tainted every room inside the house (well, except for Yuqing’s bedroom).

From the kitchen where Zhongli fucked you from behind, bending you on the counter as he emptied himself inside of you—to the bathroom where cleaning up turned into another round where he slowly entered you while underwater—or on the floor, which was only because you couldn’t reach the bed because he was too horny for his own good.

It was only then, as the both of you rested from the last round which took all night and early morning, that you realized how much time had passed.

“Mama! Papa! I’m back!”

Your eyes shot open, and glanced at Zhongli who was staring at you as well.

“Oh no.”

[rpmemes-galore]

mad max : fury road ... sentence starters

“Witness me.“

“We are not things!“

“We're not to blame!“

“Why can't you stop?“

“He's a lying old man.“

“Who killed the world?“

“There's no going back!“

“I live, I die, I live again!“

“Look, it'll be a hard day.“

“They are looking for hope.“

“My world is fire and blood.“

“Out here, everything hurts.”

“It's over. You can't defy him!“

“You kill people with that, do you?”

“Oh, what a day! What a lovely day!“

“Yeah, well, I got unlucky. Let's do this!“

“He looked at me! He looked right at me!“

“You wanna get through this? Do as I say.“

“He doesn't know what he's talking about!“

“I'd say it was your manifest destiny not to.“

“You’re never gonna have a better chance.”

“There's high ground, just beyond that thing.“

“Hey. What's your name? What do I call you?“

“I mean, you could ask for more than a jacket.”

“Do you think there's somebody still out there?“

“I thought I was being spared for something great.“

“No. I suggest we go back the same way we came.“

“He's gonna be so grateful! We could ask for anything.”

“He turned his head! He looked me straight in the eye!“

“It will take hold of you and you will resent its absence.“

“I am the one who runs from both the living and the dead.“

“It is by my hand you will rise from the ashes of this world!“

“I like this plan... we could start again, just like the old days!“

“Wring your hands, tear your hair, but you're not going back.“

“So I exist in this wasteland, reduced to one instinct: survive.“

“Everybody has gone out their mind. You're not the only one.”

“It's got everything you need, as long as you're not afraid of heights.“

“He'll be bringing us home, bringing back what's stolen, like he's supposed to.“

“How much more can they take from me? They got my blood, now it's my car!“

“You know, hope is a mistake. If you can't fix what's broken, you'll, uh... you'll go insane.“

“ As the world fell... each of us in our own way, was broken. It was hard to know who was more crazy. Me... or everyone else.“

[marzipanandminutiae]

"but Marzi, why is it bad if old houses are aesthetically modernized?"

well, it's subjectively bad because this is my blog and I am a lost traveler from the alternate universe of Everything Looks Late Victorian But Society Is More Progressive. so there's that

to my mind it is also objectively bad for a few reasons

Old buildings can be more eco-friendly if properly maintained. Obviously this varies from house to house and region to region. However, in my own observations, old houses change temperature more slowly than their surroundings due to thick walls. They're also often adapted to the environment in which they were built (eg. high ceilings in the southern US, smaller windows in cold regions to avoid leaching heat, earthquake precautions in pagodas). They come from times in which controlling the impacts of the natural world on structures was more difficult, so the structure itself had to have passive climate control and environmental safety measures worked into its design. Now, sometimes aesthetics trumped functionality, because humans gonna human. And sometimes nowadays, climate change has rendered some of those adaptations less ideal than when they were first built. However, we're also coming to realize that many of the ways our ancestors climate-controlled their homes were smarter than what we've grown accustomed to today, like heating or cooling one space at a time. You can't do that in an open-concept floor plan. Entirely or primarily glass buildings, too, have proven to trap heat in hot weather and let it out through a dozen insulation breaches in the winter. A lot of hyper-modern architecture, unless it was specifically built as a "green design," fails to take environmental factors into account in ways architects of old could seldom afford to.

They provide valuable insight into the lives of the people who lived there. I know one historical society that is desperate to find an unrenovated WWI-era "triple decker" (a type of New England apartment building with one unit on each floor of a three-story structure), and they just. Can't. Because none have survived. Those were primarily built for dock workers during the war, at least here in Boston, and now that story has been entirely lost to the ravages of mid-century landlords. Honestly, though, even the homes of rich Victorians are worth preserving despite so many surviving. Because each one tells its own story, and can teach us new things about daily life in that time period.

Ordinary people deserve to enjoy older aesthetics, too, if they want them. Despite hand-wringing over the "classism" of being irked by the IKEA-fication of old houses, the fact is that, under our current system, most people get gutted old houses or dangerously cheap modern construction, and the pristine older examples have to be inherited or purchased for millions of dollars. But I've lived in plenty of buildings that, if they hadn't been thoroughly (and cheaply) made Hip inside, would have maintained a lot of stunning period detail for the Average Joe residents. If fewer old buildings were gutted instead of being restored (by people who have the money to do either, to be clear), more people would get to enjoy that style of architecture without being millionaires. And if you don't like it...there are PLENTY of gutted or new-build housing options available to you. Leave these ones for the rest of us.

Here is the original mcmansion renovation post if you would like to see the urls and do your own searching. I dont know who the second censored url is, I saw a different reblog chain.

https://www.tumblr.com/kweza/719229017030541312

I suppose the censoring is to prevent dog piling or accusations of whatever it is drama blogs like to do, but it feels like a silly thing to then in the same post point out how obvious the trad wives are.

I personally find it more shocking that people apparently thought a landlord did that. In my experience, when I landlord buy an old victorian they dont intend to also live in, they MIGHT renovate enough to local legal regulation standards. But usually they just assume the previous owner had done enough modernizing and then proceed to slap some landlord paint on everything including radiators, door hinges, and light switches.

Thank you! One of my friends also found it for me.

And yeah, like I said, without the URl the takeaway becomes "look at this obvious tradwife [based on the views expressed in the post and nothing else]!" Which can lead to some Unfortunate Assumptions about anyone who agrees with that ONE SPECIFIC POST she made

(seriously my ex-girlfriend/current friend reblogged the original post, and she's a leftist queer law student presently in a polyamorous relationship)

as for landlords...it depends in my experience. they tended to do more back when the houses were truly untouched, usually in the 1930s-1980s. most of those apartments I mentioned having lived in, while not Victorian- but then, neither was the house in the original post -had been extensively renovated before my landlords ever entered the picture. it also depends on who they're trying to rent to. a landlord might overhaul a house more extensively if they're planning to rent to wealthy tenants, in some places

of course, flippers are a BIG part of the problem. there's a demographic with the "don't give a shit" attitude of landlords and the "want to give this the most generic/currently trendy appeal possible" and money of rich asshole private owners with popular Instagram accounts. make it look Hip and do it cheaply- the worst of both worlds

at least a private homeowner could be persuaded to just buy a new house. a flipper wants to get the cheapest house possible (often an old house) and pour their budget into hyper-modernizing it

now, I WILL blame landlords (or property management companies) for the soulless look of new buildings. they want the broadest possible appeal, with as many corners cut as possible. ergo, open-concept glass tower apartments with everything white and crap quality inside. fun.

[kumqu4t]

Ok so I just had a thought for creachur Y/N: So they can eat pretty much any plant. I'm talking able to digest HOLLY LEAVES and BARK straight off the plant and can eat poisonous mushrooms. HOWEVER, the company does not know this and one day Y/N is like "I'm REALLY hungry, I'm gonna get a snack" and everyone's like "sure thing kiddo" and she just grabs a fistful of leaves and starts stuffing them in her mouth and everyone panics because OH MAHAL Y/N NO YOU CANT EAT FERNS

@sleeplessdreamer14

(OKAY LITERALLY ANYONE WHO SEES THIS NEVER HESITATE TO SEND ME Y/N HEADCANONS/RANDOM CONCEPTS BECAUSE THEY BRING ME SO MUCH JOY!!!! i love adding little input and reacting to them and stuff so yea!! it kinda takes the pressure off of writing serious stuff but also gives me inspiration)

AND OBVIOUSLY I LOVE THIS CONCEPT BECAUSE @beenovel YOU HAVE AMAZING HILARIOUS ADORABLE IDEAS so you just know i gotta elaborate on it ;)

CULTURAL MISUNDERSTANDINGS GIVE ME LIFE SO STRAP IN Y’ALL 🙌

okay first of all i am so soft for middle aged/older men calling younger children or teens “kiddo” it’s just so Domestic Dad ™

so in this scenario i imagine that the company is constantly concerned that y/n is not getting enough to eat

and so when y/n is being proactive and admitting they are getting a snack because they’re hungry the company is like: 😄👍

but when the company sees y/n stuffing WILD LEAVES into their mouth

panic ensues

dwarves are tripping over themselves trying to run over to help

everyone has resorted to yelling in khuzdul

a fire has been lit under thorin and dwalin’s asses because they are SPRINTING

you know when dog owners try to pry their dogs mouths open because they’re trying to eat chocolate or plastic or something?

yeah that’s what is happening rn

“Y/N IF YOU LET GO OF THE LEAVES WE WILL GIVE YOU EXTRA SOUP TONIGHT PLEASE”

“SWEET FUCKING MAHAL Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DOING”

“WE HAVE SURVIVED COUNTLESS ATTACKS BUT ITS GOING TO BE PLANTS THAT KILL Y/N”

“SPIT THEM OUT Y/N! NO!! SPIT THEM OUT NOW!”

bilbo is all flustered and worried

“come now y/n let’s be rational now! we can’t eat every plant we find- no matter how appetizing they may look. Y/N I SAID NO!!”

y/n is SO CONFUSED

just like ??????? wut ????

and in all the confusion and yelling and HANDS IN THEIR MOUTH they spit out the leaves

y/n: wtf guys!!! not cool!! let me feast in peace!!

dwalin is yelling about not being stupid and having a “feckin death wish”

thorin looks very angry and confused and is trying to pry the leaves out of y/n’s mouth

bilbo is smacking thorin’s arm and demanding he “do something!!!” while also somehow scolding y/n

fili is beyond concerned

kili almost went into cardiac arrest and is very frantic

fee and kee’s big brother mode has been ACTIVATED

balin looks incredibly out of his element here,, poor guy very worried- he is too old for this shit

oin is already preparing a remedy

he is also too old for this shit

gloin’s face is red and he is pleading with y/n to “stop this foolishness this instant!”

dori is being (let’s all say it together. i know you know it)… a MOTHER HEN!!

#helicopterparent

nori is absolutely dumbfounded and has no idea what to do but he is trying his best

ori, knowing the vast dangers of poisonous or inedible plants, is on the verge of tears

he is frantically flipping through his notes to see what the protocol is for this situation (spoiler: there is none)

bofur is yelling A LOT and wringing his hat

bifur is also yelling a lot and waving his arms around (“SOUND THE ALARMS”)

bombur is horrified and fearing for y/n’s life (and taste buds)

time skip to after everything has been explained and the company has been appeased

(which takes a lot of time and the confirmation from gandalf that y/n is not about to drop dead or contract a serious illness)

thorin grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “confounding creachurs going to drive me to an early grave”

dori almost faints with relief

everyone watches y/n very carefully when they eat dinner that night

fili and kili snuggle y/n in between them that night and hold them extra tight

thorin huffs in annoyance and exhaustion after the catastrophe that will henceforth be referred to as “The Leaf Incident”

but he gives you a forehead kiss nonetheless before tucking his three unofficial children into their bedrolls

dwalin keeps watch that night because this rattled him

HELP IM SOFT AGAIN

anyways yes i love this so much

and if anyone wants to add on to this PLEASE DO IT MAKES ME SO SO HAPPY

(also:

the company in mirkwood: okay but y/n isn’t going to starve because look at all the plants so no worries 👍👍👍👍👍)

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 296: Ngl, This One Pissed Me Off

Previously on BnHA: Deku was all, “p.s. I actually activated yet another quirk several chapters ago when Kacchan got stabbed.” Compress was all, “[gets captured and passes out].” Spinner was all “[rifles through Tomura’s pockets and slaps a random Charbroiled Hand onto his friend’s unconscious face].” Tomura was all, “SOMEHOW THAT ACTUALLY WORKED” and woke up again, except it wasn’t really him, it was everyone’s favorite Final Villain, AFO. AFO was all, “time to escape finally” and summoned a bunch of Noumu and Absconded with Spinner and the DabiMarble in tow. Skeptic was all, “Horikoshi forgot I existed, but I’m actually Absconding in marble-form as well.” Deku was all, “ATTENTION WORLD, I WOULD LIKE TO ANNOUNCE THAT I OFFICIALLY WANT TO SAVE SHIGARAKI TOMURA.” And then the arc just sort of ended lol.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all, “but when you think about it, do we really need literally any female teachers at U.A. at all?” and for whatever reason doesn’t stop to wait for an answer. Midnight, who absolutely did not need to die, Dies, and I’m pissed about it. Ochako wanders the ruins of Jakku for what feels like hours, rescuing small children while her adult hero compatriots fall to pieces around her, because apparently the U.A. kids really are the only people who have their shit together. The citizens of Japan are all “damn that’s wild, wonder how fucked we are now,” but are actually super casual and chill about it which is oddly realistic. The chapter ends with AFO in Tartarus being all “lol time for the prison break arc,” without giving us so much as a chance to catch our breath, like holy shit. Are we on the clock or something now, goddamn.

lmao it’s like 7pm on a Sunday night and this is out already. this is like the worst possible timing lol. there goes my nice, relaxed evening. unless of course this turns out to be a nice, restful, soothing chapter, as chapters coming on the heels of traumatic, earth-shattering battles so often are. yeah, break out the Pina Colada song and the little drink umbrellas, I got a good feeling about this one

(ETA: I mean, I was obviously being sarcastic here but damn, Horikoshi.)

-- fff why did I laugh

it’s the crumbling city ruins in the background that really does it, I think. JUST LOOK AT THIS MESS THAT YOU HAVE MADE, EVERYONE. FOR SHAME

also, the title is dramatic af and I am so fucking excited you guys, like holy shit. BnHA’s In-Between arcs have always been my favorite part of the series, because it’s when all the character development and angst and/or catharsis happens. just, those little breathing spaces in between the action when everyone gathers to recuperate and compartmentalize their fresh new traumas lmao. bring on that angst!! but also, let’s please have some Comfort to offset all of this Hurt too, please and thanks

blah blah blah so the survivors were evacuated, good good, can you actually show us though?

AHHHHHHH

PIXIE BOB SURVIVED!!!! WASH IS STILL ALIVE LMAO HOW. THIRTEEN’S FACE, OMG SHOULD I LOOK AWAY. IS IT LIKE MANDALORIAN RULES. IDK HOW IT WORKS

HOW THE FUCK ARE THEY ALIVE. LOLS ANYWAY I’M HERE FOR IT. FEEL FREE NOT TO KILL ANYONE ELSE HERE HORIKOSHI, I THINK WE’RE GOOD

(ETA: it’s like talking to a brick wall.)

oh my god do we really need exposition about how the heroes tried to stop TomurAFO from escaping and OF COURSE failed completely because they suck lmao. oh my god I am shocked, that is such shocking news

wow they only managed to defeat three of the Noumus. holy shit. again, all of the Not-Kid Heroes are only slightly more useful than cardboard cutouts of heroes at this point, MORE AT ELEVEN

so Tomura may have lost the PLF, but he still more or less has an army then, huh. I really don’t know how anyone could expect a timeskip with that threat looming over everyone’s heads

oh nvm lol there are only seven Noumus left. wait so you’re telling me there were only ten Nearly High Ends in that last chapter?? felt more like fifty but whatever lol I’ll take your word for it

COMPRESS YAY YOU’RE ALIVE TOO

MAYBE THEY CAN EVEN REATTACH HIS ASS. I’M SERIOUS LOL, BECAUSE HE STILL HAS IT, DOESN’T HE? OR IF NOT, THEY CAN REBUILD HIM WITH A PROSTHETIC ASS. he’ll be more powerful than ever

WHAAAAAAT YEAH BOIIIII

WOOO, EDGESHOT, WOOOOO. THAT’S HIS WAY OF THE NINJA

YEAHHHHH SUCK IT, PLF

(ETA: for the record I don’t think Cementoss is dead here, just badly wounded. if he had died he would have been included in the forthcoming In Memoriam page along with the others.)

GET BENT LOL. TRUMPET I FOR REAL FORGOT YOU EVEN EXISTED. I NEVER WANT TO SEE ANY OF YOU LOSERS AGAIN PLEASE. ONLY INTERESTING CHARACTERS MAY PROCEED PAST THIS POINT

dsflksaldkh;l

that’s... holy shit. that’s a bigass mansion, that’s what that is. also so does this mean there are still eighty thousand PLF members still at large, because that’s a plot line I very much do not care about in any way whatsoever lol. can’t we just retcon to say that Re-Destro was exaggerating? I mean hell, a CEO criminal pulling some Enron-type bullshit is pretty believable, isn’t it? those poor bamboozled shareholders

“makeste, here’s an idea, what if you scrolled down to read the rest of the page” lol gtfo of here with your logic and your sense

well those 132 people have made it onto my enemies list, but at least it sounds like they more or less took care of the rest. good riddance

and Toga escaped, as we knew already, and is now on the lam. hopefully she reunites with the League again at some point. although her doing her own thing could also be very interesting. idk what I want lol

anyway so there’s another big panel showing how fucked up the city is, just in case it hadn’t already been hammered into our skulls yet. there’s a car dangling off a roof somehow. how does that even happen. did Machia pick it up and put it there or

NOOO OMG RANDOM SMALL CHILDREN IN PERIL WHAT IS THIS

OCHAKO PLEASE SAVE THEM OMG

“if it falls on me, I want you to have my Endeavor pouch” OH MY STARS. HIS MOST PRECIOUS POSSESSION. NO MY CHILD YOU CAN’T GIVE UP HOPE YET

LMAO

“FOR THE LAST TIME NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR DUSTY-ASS POUCH, KYLE” fffff these children are dying and I am cracking up so hard my eyes are tearing up what is wrong with me

YAY THEY SAVED THEM

but listen. not that I don’t love seeing the girls kick ass, because you know I do. but I also really, REALLY need to know what’s going down with the Musketeers, and I’m not looking forward to waiting three whole weeks for that so please Horikoshi. please hurry this along so we can get to them

goddamn it Tsuyu is saying she’ll take the boy to the shelter to get first aid, and I was all “okay great because that’s probably where Kacchan and the others are too”, but now someone else is shouting for help and Ochako’s all “I’ll go” and it’s like OKAY BUT PLEASE? this chapter is already more than half over omfg. ‘bout to start wringing some hands here

oh my god

is this Toga again??? WHAT THE HELL, THIS CREEPYASS HALF-DEAD DUDE BETTER BE LEADING UP TO SOMETHING INTERESTING, I AM REALLY GETTING IMPATIENT

OR, I GUESS, WE COULD DO THIS INSTEAD

“SO AS IT TURNS OUT, NOT EVERY CHARACTER WHO NEEDS HELP SAVING THEIR SPOUSE FROM FALLEN RUBBLE IS ACTUALLY TOGA IN DISGUISE” HUH, OKAY. DULY NOTED. FILED AWAY FOR FUTURE REFERENCE

but fucking... okay, look. I love Ochako, I do. but I like her a whole lot more when she’s interacting with other characters I actually care about, as opposed to running around in the rubble rescuing random people while the fate of my other children is still up in the air. like okay, I get it, shit’s bad, now if you don’t mind we really don’t have to spend all day here though

...anyways but nope, we’re still staying with her. she’s bouncing around rescuing all of these other people. omg. I literally have no patience here at all and it’s terrible, I know, but oh my god

omg finally something interesting is happening!!

look at that, an adult hero standing around being useless while the kids are busy getting shit done. why is this becoming a recurring theme

MY DUDE, THIS IS SERIOUSLY NOT THE TIME THOUGH

I GET THAT IT’S OVERWHELMING AND THAT YOU’RE TRAUMATIZED AND SHIT, BUT GUESS WHAT, SO IS EVERYONE ELSE. THAT’S WHAT YOU SIGNED UP FOR. JUST LOOK AT OCHAKO! SHE’S SO EXHAUSTED HER HAIR HAS EVEN LOST ITS FLOOF, AND YET SHE’S STILL OUT HERE DOING HER BEST. ONE SAVE AT A TIME MY MAN. GET IT DONE. LITERALLY A SMALL CHILD IN THE BOTTOM RIGHT CALLING FOR THEIR MOMMY AND YOU’RE JUST STANDING THERE ALL “WAHH IT’S TOO MUCH” LIKE COULD YOU PLEASE POSTPONE YOUR CRISIS UNTIL AFTER YOU SAVE THEM PLEASE

OH MY GOD

MAYBE YOU SHOULD!! oh my god I really cannot, like wow. oh no I actually have to save people and do my job, god forbid. jesus christ, at least the other heroes tried. but Moping Hero: Bellyache here is just throwing in the towel and fuck everyone who still needs his help I guess. you are like the anti-Deku my dude

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD NO OH FUCK

THAT’S MIDNIGHT’S HAND OH FU -- SHE BETTER NOT -- HORIKOSHI I SWEAR TO GOD --

I’M GONNA LOSE IT I REALLY AM!!!!

HOLY SHIT HOW INTENSE OF A RAGE DO I NEED TO BRACE MYSELF TO BE FEELING HERE. THIS CHAPTER WAS ALREADY TRENDING TOWARDS DISAPPOINTMENT, DO WE REALLY NEED TO GO AND COMPOUND THAT

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON

you’re telling me Tomura wasn’t brought back by that electric shock, but by his “fuck you” attitude? why are you explaining this to us now, again??

......

HEY, SO UM, FUCK ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS, THOUGH. (: OH MAN. OHHHHHH MAN. I HAVE... I HAVE GOT A LOT OF WORDS FOR THIS AND HERE ARE SOME OF THEM

FUCK

THINGS THAT SHOULD BE IN THE DICTIONARY NEXT TO “SOME BULLSHIT”: THIS

FUCK

GET FUCKED HORIKOSHI

AND ALSO PLEASE FUCK RIGHT OFF!!

AND SERIOUSLY THOUGH FUCK YOU

NO BUT YOU KNOW WHAT THOUGH!! YOU COULD HAVE KILLED OFF ANYONE. LITERALLY ANY CHARACTER. YOU HAD TWELVE FEMALE PROS. TWELVE. YOU COULD HAVE MADE MORE OF THEM. PROBABLY, IF THERE ACTUALLY WERE SUPERHEROES IN REAL LIFE, THERE WOULD BE MORE THAN TWELVE OF THEM IN AN ENTIRE NATION. BUT NO, YOU WERE ALL “TWELVE IS MORE THAN ENOUGH.” AND THEN WHEN IT CAME TIME TO KILL PEOPLE OFF, YOU WERE ALL “WELL ALL RIGHT THEN, LET’S SEE, I PICK... THESE 18 RANDOM SIDE CHARACTERS WITH LITTLE TO NO DIALOGUE, PLUS THE ONE SINGLE FEMALE U.A. STAFF MEMBER WE ACTUALLY HAD. YEAH THAT OUGHTA DO IT”

AND BY THE WAY, HORIKOSHI, I PICKED SOMETHING UP FOR YOU ON MY WAY HOME, HERE IT IS, ┌П┐(��＿・) do you like it it was on sale. I saw it and was like, “Horikoshi would really like that.” so there you go. sorry it wasn’t gift-wrapped

p.s. I hope y’all can tell that that’s supposed to be a middle finger and not... something else lmao. er. anyway

(ETA: so I got a few asks from people who were really put off by this part of the reaction post, and so I’m just adding an extra note here to make it clear that I do not actually wish harm on Horikoshi in any way or even particularly dislike him. I wasn’t happy about Midnight’s death and I wanted to convey that, and so I went with my usual LOUD CAPSLOCK REACTION tone, but looking back on it I can see that it’s kind of a lot, lol. 

so just to be clear, the “fuck you” stuff is almost entirely tongue-in-cheek. that’s on me, I forget sometimes that there are people who share these sentiments unironically and so I didn’t think to make sure my intended meaning here was clear. anyways, killing Midnight was still a really problematic decision for numerous reasons but it is what it is. Horikoshi is not perfect, the story isn’t perfect, and I’m not gonna pretend like it is, but again just to be clear, I don’t harbor any actual ill will toward Horikoshi here.)

shit. and wow this man really went and killed off fucking Mystic too on top of that. have you ever seen a character fail so spectacularly at living up to their hype. r.i.p. Mystic you were like the Star Wars sequel of characters

(ETA: I have no fucking idea why I keep thinking Majestic’s name is Mystic lol. rest in peace you old scarecrowy bastard.)

and poor Momo, though. fuck. lost two mentors in a single day. and do not even get me started on Aizawa holy shit

so now we’re cutting to some random townspeople who are gossiping about the Todoroki drama. this is actually interesting in spite of my newfound determination to hate this chapter lol

ngl I am kind of heartened to see that not everyone fell for Dabi’s bs hook line and sinker though. Jeanist returning from the dead literally two seconds after Dabi was all “I SWEAR ON MY HONOR AS A VILLAIN THAT HAWKS MURDERED HIM” probably helped with that a bit! but there will doubtless be many other people who do believe him, or are at least still inclined to side-eye the heroes in general either way given how much they sucked in this arc. very, very interesting

so it seems though that even more than the whole Endeavor reveal, at the end of the day it’s going to be the heroes failing to live up to their end of the “put your faith in us and let us use our quirks and in return we’ll protect everyone and keep them safe” implied social contract that’s going to have the biggest impact on people’s opinions moving forward. basically this was always going to be a disaster no matter what

OH MY GOD FINALLY AHHHHH

Horikoshi really tapped into some of the real-life political energy of the past few years huh. Fuck Him Still for killing off Midnight, but I will admit that so far this is hella intriguing and I am really, really curious to see where things go from here

OH MY GOD THE LITTLE KIDS FROM THE BABYSITTING ARC

“FIVE PEEPEE MAN WOULDN’T LIE TO US” YES CHILDREN YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT. at least the little ones still have faith

UM

 ( •̀ へ •́  )

that’s great. that’s really keen. all we need right now, amirite

GOOD FOR YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT

let’s just wait for him to explain what he feels. you know he likes to drag it out

is that Dabi crouched down there next to Spinner? looks like they got him out of the marble after all. but why has his hair changed colors again lol what

anyways. your turn to what??

:’) excuse me what

hahahaha are you fucking kidding me. and that’s where we’re going to end the chapter then. lol okay

so let’s recap. Midnight died. we spent ten hours watching Ochako dig people out of rubble for no apparent reason and were then introduced to my new least favorite character, and because Ochako is so nice she didn’t even punch him in the face even though she really should have. we did not get any Kacchan or Shouto. we got one panel of Deku, who is Finally Asleep. and the chapter ended with AFO ordering his Noumus to go set free, AND I QUOTE, HIS “MAIN BODY.” and now I gotta wait an entire week for Caleb’s translation to confirm that last part. omg

but it sounds like a prison break is imminent, which is very, very interesting. ...and actually, is it weird that I’m actually rooting for it to be a success? I have no idea what this guy is planning, but I do know that as long as the main part of his soul is still residing in Tomura’s body, Tomura’s chance of surviving the series is close to zero. and villain though he may be, I’m still rooting for his redemption (nice to have Deku on my side now too), and so yeah. so like if AFO feels like using some latent Exorcism Quirk or something that he’s been saving for just such an occasion, be my guest lol

meanwhile this doesn’t bode well for All Might though. or anyone else aside from Tomura, really. shiiiit

anyway. [slaps roof of chapter] this baby can fit so much bullshit in it

[ghostbustermelanieking]

some thoughts on mag 200

i’ve been having trouble articulating this, but i wanted to get some thoughts down on mag 200, and the ending of tma as a whole, now that i’ve heard the finale twice and had some time to process it all. putting this under a cut in case people don’t wanna see it -- there’s gonna be a lot of praise here, but also some legit criticism. this is a way to sort through my feelings more than anything else.

first off, relistening to the finale, and sitting on it for a while, has made me feel a hell of a lot better about the whole thing. the episode comes off a lot better when you’re not vibrating with fear and anticipation, in my opinion. the final statement was very fitting and cool -- not my favorite ever, but i can appreciate it a lot as a final closing for the fears. and i don’t have an ear for soundscaping but the sound in that statement was cool as hell. the jonah magnus gets fucking murdered scene is incredibly satisfying. a lot of other people have said this, but i love that jon finally got his revenge, and was able to lash out against jonah for all the years of manipulation and beng used, and for tim and sasha and everything else. that was perfect. i genuinely thought we might not get a scene like this after 193 but i am so glad we did. incredibly satisfying. the girls made it out!! i am very glad that they’re ok and moving on and seem to be leaning on each other. (By God I Will Wring Found Family Out Of This Podcast If It Kills Me.) and the admiral’s okay. love that

and the jonmartin ending. oh my god. while i was never the biggest fan of the possibility of martin having to kill jon, the way it went down was so painful and good. i loved that final scene. i love the ambiguity -- that they might have died but maybe they didn’t, maybe they’re all right and happy and we can decide for ourselves -- i love that i got exactly what i wanted, that i get to have my cake and eat it too, all the angst of a jmart death and still the possibility of happiness... i am going buckwild. i love it. the longer i spend with this ending, the happier i am with it. i really really loved it

on another note... i do have some reservations about the finale and the season as a whole. i understand peoples’ irritations with the finale, and while i’m trying to focus on the things i did like, i definitely have some irritations. for one, i definitely wish the finale had been longer. i would’ve loved to see more of what wtgfs and basira were doing, and the actual lighting of the archives, etc. and while i completely understand why the scene at the panopticon went as quickly as it did -- it comes off very much as wild, frantic impulse in the heat of the moment where they’re in danger and trying to protect each other -- i do wish it had gone a little slower. 

in my mind, the biggest issue in season 5 ended up being pacing. and this might be a personal preference thing -- there’s a lot of things within the show that i don’t personally vibe with, but i don’t necessarily think they’re badly written. but i do think season 5 was slow. and while slow things can certainly work in a certain context (season 4 comes off wildly slow til you listen to 160), i wish more of what actually happened in season 5 had been baked into the end game. the season felt like it had a lot of filler, which drives me mildly crazy, because the end game feels rushed and i don’t think it NEEDED to be. i liked a lot of what season 5 did -- there’s some impeccable episodes, the character interactions are weirdly lighter and softer than they have been in previous seasons, and i wouldn’t trade a lot of the things that it’s given us (all the jonmartin interactions, jon and georgie briefly rebuilding their friendship, martin and melanie friendship, wtgfs scenes and intimacy, backstory, lore, etc) for anything. but i do think it could’ve been structured and paced a little differently. i also think it could’ve given some more screentime to the character stuff we got from episodes like 161, 170, 186, 190, 191, 192, 199... i absolutely love both martin centric monologue episodes, but i hate that we didn’t get anything like that for jon. (or for melanie or georgie or basira...) the best episodes of the season, imo, are the ones that broke from traditional form of domain statement domain, and the ones that focused in hard on backstory, lore, character introspection, character interaction... i wish we had more of this. 

when it comes to the jonmartin arc... i know this has been a point of contention with a lot of people, but i don’t hate it at all. maybe it’s just because i relistened to the majority of the season back in january, but a lot of the more grating moments that seemed large week to week (martin pressuring jon to smite people, the disagreements they had earlier in the season, jon using martin as bait in 176, etc etc) come off a lot more minor when you’re binging. personally, relistening to act i made those interactions come off as things they were struggling with through continued support and reassurance. there were absolutely things i wanted addressed, especially with the “kill bill arc” -- the disagreements early in the season, and how it seemed to turn on its head in the argument they have in 194. (i didn’t like martin blaming jon for the kill bill arc and i was hoping it would get brought up.) i also wanted to see a discussion of martin going with annabelle in 194 -- i wasn’t really ever mad at martin for doing it, but i did want to see them talk it out. 

but! after relistening to 200, i think i have a better handle on why that couldn’t have happened. martin goes behind jon’s back to go with annabelle and they don’t talk about it; jon goes behind martin’s back to sabotage the plan everyone agrees on in order to prevent the fears from spreading. if they’d had a big talk about trust, and working through martin going off with annabelle, and then jon turned around and did the same thing, more or less... it would’ve completely soured that discussion. jon and martin needed to be in a place of discourse for this ending to work. 

honestly, the more i’ve thought about this final JM arc, the better i feel about it. sure, jon and martin are in a bad place, and they’ve gone behind each other’s backs and been somewhat selfish, but i don’t think this ruins their relationship. for one, martin’s break in trust comes from a place of wanting to save jon and the world. and for another, jon genuinely feels he is doing the right thing, making a decision he can live with. (i have my own opinions as to how ethical jon’s decision was, but that’s another post. and i think the muddy ethics of this ending are on purpose -- it’s horror, a genre that often doesn’t offer ethical decisions.) their final decisions and final moments come from a place of love and protectiveness, and they change their decisions for the other. they still love each other, through all of it. i don’t think these late stage betrayals equivalate jonmartin necessarily being doomed as a couple (not that anyone has said that, but it’s worth saying). and i think it’s important to remember that this is still a relatively new relationship. it existed for approximately three weeks before the literal apocalypse, and it’s been under an immense amount of stress, as well as the constant fear that one or both of them would die. (which they did.) i’m not saying that excuses certain things they’ve said or done, but i am saying i don’t think the relationship is doomed. i think, if jon and martin have survived, they’ll need to work through things. they’ll need to talk it all out. and they’ll be able to! they’ll heal from this one way or another. the tragedy isn’t that jonmartin is doomed, or toxic. it’s that these moments of betrayal are what dooms them. and the beautiful undercurrent of it all is that they still manage to come together, and make decisions that mean they stay together. and that wherever they are, they’re still together. 

all in all, i don’t think season 5 has been perfect, and i can make my peace with that. (tma’s worst is a hell of a lot better than most shows’ best.) (i also think it might be worth considering how covid could have affected certain aspects of how the season was written -- pandemics are stressful, and i can’t imagine what it’s like to finish an enormous, in the works for years project like this in the middle of that. personally, i’m impressed they’ve managed to finish the show through all of this and keep it to a similar quality.) i think critiques are valuable and worth discussing. and i think plot aspects aside, there are several other critique related things that could be brought up about this season that people have articulated much better than i ever could. but i also, personally, want to walk away from the show feeling satisfied. i tend to be weirdly positive about things i love (the x files finale was horrendous, but i managed to get to a place where i was happy with it, for example), and i think that applies here -- even more so because i really did love so many aspects of that finale. i don’t necessarily want to linger in my own mind over what i disliked, especially considering the show is over. although i did want to air out my thoughts. 

i still love this show. i loved a lot of episodes this season, frustrations aside. season 5 will forever be my only live tma experience, and it got me through one of the worst years of my life, and i am very grateful for this. i genuinely did just want to air out my thoughts and get them all down on paper. these are just my opinions -- i don’t want to criticize anyone who feels differently about the finale, or the season as a whole. everyone’s opinion is their own. 

i feel a lot, lot better about mag 200, to the point of genuinely loving it. i hope my appreciation only grows as i get further from that frenzied first day and have more time to sit with it. and i can’t wait to see all the art and read all of the amazing fics that are going to come out of this ending (and write some of my own). it’s been a wild ride. i’m glad i was here for it.

[slytherinbarnes]

there are ghosts in the sky, i

i. what if they leave me shattered in the stars?

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 9.4k

Warnings: character death, violence, mentions of blood, injuries, fighting, anxiety, language, drugging, puking, angst.

Summary: Sanctum is beautiful, but the moon’s beautiful facade is hiding a dark secret. a dark secret that you find out about in the worst way possible.

a/n: here it is!!! part one of my s6 au for sub rosa! please let me know what you think!!!

au series masterlist // sub rosa masterlist // full masterlist

You already hate everything about this moon.

Officially, you’ve only been on it a little more than 24 hours. And in that time, you’ve been attacked by bugs, watched Shaw die, and have watched all of your friends slowly lose their minds to sun induced psychosis. Unfortunately, you are now among them.

You stand staring at Murphy, who’s muttering something about getting in position, but all you can hear is your father and Shumway yelling at you from the TV behind you. Their voices are deafeningly loud, taking over every thought in your head and pushing it away, until the only thing you can hear or think about or see is the knife in your hand, their voices urging you to use it.

But Murphy shakes you hard, sensing the return of your turmoil, and you slide the knife back into its holster, giving him a resolute nod. “I’m ready.”

He eyes you with skepticism, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Murphy, I’m sure.”

“Okay, because two seconds ago you were staring at your knife like it was-”

You cut him off with a glare, “I said, I’m sure. Now go get into position.”

He gives you one last skeptical look before slipping out the door, and you watch him go, taking a deep breath and starting to sing in an attempt to keep the voices at bay. You wait anxiously for Murphy to get in his place, but after a few minutes you can’t stand the wait anymore, so you slip out of the room in search of your boyfriend. You can hear him yelling from somewhere near the pond, so you walk that way, wringing your hands, hoping that all of this goes according to plan. 

Bellamy seems surprised to see you walk from between the buildings and out into the open, your voice soft and comforting as you call out to him, “Hey Bell.”

He turns to look at you, glaring, his eyes falling to your hands, which now twitch nervously near your knife. “Are you scared of me? That’s funny, because I should be scared of you, Wanlida.”

He says the nickname mockingly, further reminding you of why you hate it. You smile at him, trying to stay calm, slowly grabbing the knife and tossing it away from you in an act of good faith. “I just want to talk, Bellamy. The eclipse is getting to your head, and you’re not acting like yourself. This isn’t you.”

“How would you know what’s me? I spent six years without you. You don't know who I am!”

“You’re wrong, Bellamy. I know exactly who you are. I always have. You’re the guy who’s willing to do anything for his sister. You’re a leader to our people, who has made so many sacrifices to save us. You’re the love of my life, who has been there for me at every turn.”

“The love of your life?” He laughs, and you can tell he’s trying to bait you. “Is that why I fell in love with someone else?”

And though you know he only says the words to get a rise out of you, to bring out your rage and make you stoop to his level, you can't ignore it. You let out a scream of anger and dive at Bellamy, intending to knock him off his feet and distract him while Murphy gasses him. “Murphy, do it! Do it now!”

Except the gas never comes. 

Instead, Bellamy rolls away from you, jumping to his feet, and you scramble to yours quickly as he stalks towards you. You lift your fists in defense of yourself, not wanting to fight Bellamy. You’ve seen him spar people and defeat them easily, you’ve seen him actually fight people and defeat them easily. He has a height advantage and size advantage on you, not to mention the fact that you’re already heavily injured from your near death experience in Shallow Valley. But eclipse Bellamy cares about none of that. Instead he lunges at you, grabbing you by the shoulders, holding you in place as he punches you so hard in the stomach that you double over with a gasp of pain. He tosses you to the ground and kicks you in the side, his boot connecting with your ribs, and you hold back a cry of pain, sure that there's going to be a bruise there by morning. He grabs you by your jacket and pulls you to your feet again, swinging a punch at you so hard that pain immediately explodes across your eye and cheekbone. You’re sure that your healing black eye is now going to be much worse, and you hit the ground hard, landing on your back, trying to find the will to keep fighting Bellamy. 

Luckily, you don't have to, because Murphy has finally arrived. Unfortunately for him, Bellamy sees him coming and knocks the gas can out of his hand before he can use it, punching him in rapid succession, one after the next. Murphy is still trying to recover from the hits when Bellamy grabs his knife wound and digs in, before delivering subsequent hits to the injured man’s bullet wounds, the same wounds Murphy received while trying to save him. Murphy cries out in pain, and Bellamy seizes his moment of weakness to toss him into the pond, splashing in after him to grab him and hold him beneath the water. You pull yourself to your feet, the sight of Murphy's impending danger lighting a fire within you, and you rush towards the pair as Bellamy grinds out, “I will keep us safe!”

You grab Bellamy when you’re close enough, trying hard to pull him off of Murphy and save him, but Bellamy turns and hits you again, knocking you back into the water with a splash. You fall into the pond, your head sinking beneath it, and you close your eyes as you sink, wondering if you should just let yourself drown. But your survival instinct kicks in, and you get a rush of adrenaline strong enough to pull you out of the water and over to Bellamy. You shove him off of Murphy, towards the pond’s edge, and you swing a punch at him so fast he never sees it coming. It’s powerful enough to knock him backwards onto the ground, and you run back to the pond and grab Murphy, dragging him out of the water as he lies in it, still and unmoving. 

You see Bellamy moving from the corner of your eye, but you don't pay attention, too worried about Murphy’s still form. You drop him onto the ground, falling to his side and immediately starting chest compressions, hoping and praying that he coughs up the water in his lungs. You can see Bellamy stalking towards you, but he freezes in place when your twin’s voice screams out for the first time in hours, “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

Bellamy turns on her with a sinister smile, and you see the two of them spar as you continue to help Murphy, sending prayers to the Universe to save his life. You almost cry in relief when they answer them, Murphy turning his head to violently cough up the water that nearly killed him. Your relief is short lived though, ending when you hear a body thud to the ground nearby. You look up in horror and realize that it’s your twin, and Bellamy stands over her, smiling at you. “Clarke!”

The scream that rips though you is absolutely heartbreaking, and you move over to her as fast as you can, dropping at her side and pressing your fingers to her neck, searching for a pulse. This time, you do cry in relief when you find one, your twin only temporarily knocked out, not dead. But you don't get long to process this, because Bellamy grabs you and yanks you backwards until you're flat on your back, and then he straddles you, his hands lifting up to your throat. Your eyes instantly widen in alarm, your hatred of choking to death already so powerful, but especially at the hands of the man you love. Murphy tries to help you, but Bellamy easily knocks him away, still too weak from his near death experience. He weakly yells, “Stop it, man, you’re killing her! You’re gonna kill the girl you love!”

But Bellamy doesn't stop. If anything, his grip gets tighter, the stars of unconsciousness exploding around the edges of your vision. You reach down for your Grounder knife, panic surging through you when you remember you discarded it earlier in an effort to keep the peace. Lot of good that’s doing you now. Your feet start to kick as you struggle for air, sending pain through the stitches in your calf, lighting up a memory in your brain. The skull knife. You reach down to your uninjured calf, grabbing the knife from its holster and immediately plunging it into Bellamy’s thigh. He lets out a gut wrenching yell of pain, and you take in a dizzyingly large rush of air, filling your lungs up with oxygen again. 

You hear Murphy weakly call your name, and you turn to look at him, a gas canister held tight in his hand. You push Bellamy off of you and crawl towards Murphy, grabbing the can from his hand just as Bellamy grabs your ankle and pulls you towards him. He flips you over, straddling you again, and before you can even register the knife that is now clutched in his hand, he plunges it into your side. A scream of pain rips itself from your throat, but it gets cut off by Bellamy’s hands, which have lifted to your throat and are now squeezing the air out of your body again. Without wasting another second, you grab the pin on the gas can and pull, releasing the gas in a cloud that overtakes the three of you instantly. You get light headed as soon as you breathe it in, your head lulling to the side, and you feel Bellamy drop to the ground beside you as the gas reaches him, all of you unconscious within seconds. 

-

You wake to chaos. 

Your mother, somehow, is now on this god forsaken moon with you, along with Raven, Jordan, Octavia, Jackson, and a prisoner. 

But you care about none of that. Instead, you’re worried about Bellamy, the man you love, the man you had to stab, and you sit up and shift over to him. You place your hand on his cheek and whisper his name softly, and he blinks awake slowly, his eyes opening to find you. You can hear the soft chatter of conversation behind you, but you ignore it and focus only on Bellamy, helping him to sit up and face you. He clutches his leg in pain, and he looks down at it, eyes landing on the knife wound, before turning to you with horror. Tears instantly spring to your eyes and you whisper, “I’m sorry, I had to.”

His hand lifts to your face, tilting your head to get a look at your darkening eye, before he tips your chin to get a look at the bruises that are already starting to form around your neck. You ignore the pain that’s radiating from your side, and you hope he’s forgotten the stab wound he gave you in return, but he hasn’t. He carefully lifts the edge of your shirt to peer at the wound, and you see the horror in his face deepen. You realize now that he isn't horrified that you stabbed him, he’s horrified that you had to. He reaches out for you, pulling you into a hug, tucking his face into the crook of your neck to hide the tears falling down his face. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, whispering, “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, tears starting to spill down your face as you smile at him. “There's nothing to be sorry for, my love.”

He seems prepared to disagree, but the words never come, because at this moment, the people of this moon have started to arrive back at their home. A home which now has a group of invaders from Earth, all possessing different levels of injuries and consciousness. The worst among you is Murphy, who chooses this moment to begin seizing. You shift away from Bellamy and scramble over to Murphy’s side, watching in horror as he takes one loud breath and then stops. Your mother frantically rips his shirt open to begin CPR, revealing a dark color that is spider webbing through Murphy’s veins, marking the space on his chest. As your mom frantically tries to save Murphy's life, all of you watch on in horror, sending up your prayers to the Universe, wondering how many prayers it’ll answer for you before they stop listening.

The Universe has decided that it isn’t tired of you yet, and it answers by sending a man to you, impeccably dressed, clearly the leader of these people. However, this man takes one look at all of you and turns to the guards that hover nearby, waiting for orders. “Move them back.”

The guards point their spears towards all of you, pushing you back and away, leaving Murphy on the ground alone. Your mom looks at the leader with anger. “What are you doing? He'll die!”

“You want my help or not?” At the mention of assistance, you all become compliant, moving away and giving the man the space he asked for. Bellamy walks over to you, coming to a stop beside you as the man drops to Murphy’s side and lifts up his shirt. “He's already dead. Fortunately for him, death is not the end.”

He calls out, “Cillian!”

A man, Cillian, materializes from the crowd, coming to stop beside his leader, who whispers, “He was exposed to the seaweed during the red sun. Do it.”

Your brows come together, wondering what that means, and you exchange a look with both Clarke and Bellamy, both of them just as curious. The man kneels down beside Murphy and reaches into his bag, pulling out a snake. You all look at it in shock as the leader informs you, “We call it Kepa-She, it means hideous snake in Chinese.”

Cillian holds the snake to Murphy’s side, encouraging it to bite him, as you all watch on in horror. Clarke mutters, “Oh, my God.”

The man looks up at her, expression understanding. “Trust me, I know, but the venom degrades too quickly to deliver it in any other form.”

Miraculously, the darkness that has traveled through Murphy's veins and spread across his body starts to retreat, moving back towards the source of the venom. You blink hard a few times, unsure if your eyes are working right, and when you look at Murphy again, you see now that he’s healed, his skin clear of the darkness. You feel a rush of relief and you mutter, “It's working.”

And that’s the last thing you remember before passing out.

-

This time, pain wakes you up.

Your eyes fly open and you sit up, your side on fire, and you flail your arms at whoever is gathered around you, forcing them to jump away from you. There’s a layer of sweat across your skin, your breathing slightly labored, and your wide eyes frantically look around, falling on Bellamy, then Clarke, and then the man from before, Cillian. They’re all holding their arms up in surrender, and Bellamy’s voice is soft and comforting when he whispers, “Natshana, it's just us. Cillian was trying to stitch up your stab wound.”

You see guilt pass over his features before you drop your gaze down to your side, the wound half stitched, a needle still stuck in your skin. Clarke’s voice is anxious when she calls your name and adds, “You’ve lost a lot of blood. Please let him finish.”

You look up into your twin’s anxious face before turning to look at Cillian, who gives you a small smile, trying to reassure you. Finally you nod, the movement small, before laying back down on the makeshift operating table they’ve created for you. Cillian comes over to you slowly, waiting for you to jump away again, and when you don't he resumes his stitching. Clarke and Bellamy come to either side of you, both of them taking your hands, allowing you to squeeze them every time you get a flash of pain. 

You try to keep yourself distracted by looking at the room around you, all of you locked up in some sort of tavern. Your body is stretched out between two tables that have been pushed together, and when you glance to your left, you see that Murphy is in a similar position, eyes still closed, Emori now gazing down at him with worry. Your gaze is pulled from the couple as Cillian takes a deep breath, and you look at him, thinking he’s about to say something. As he finishes up the knot of your last stitch, he muses, “I checked your friend Murphy’s wounds. His blood is red.”

It’s not a question, but you can tell he’s fishing for information. Something within you tells you to offer him as little as possible, unsure if you can trust these people at all. Which is why you nod and answer, “Most people’s blood tends to be red.”

He gives you a strange look, and you give him one in return, the two of you staring at each other in silence until Clarke clears her throat. “Is she okay?”

He nods, his eyes still locked on you. “She’s good to go.”

And then he shifts his gaze to her, forcing a smile to his face. “She should just take it easy for a few days.”

Clarke nods, accepting his instructions before nodding to the exit. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

-

You, of course, do not take it easy for a few days. 

Despite the disagreements of your mother, your twin, and your boyfriend, you accompany Bellamy and the others on the rescue mission for Madi. Your wounds do not hold you back as much as you expected them to, your body clearly adjusted to surviving, even while injured. Maybe you can thank Mount Weather for that. 

Still, all seems well when you return, because Madi is safe and so are the others. Diyoza gets kicked out of Sanctum, but the rest of you are told you can stay, and that Russell and his people will show all of you how to survive on this chaotic moon. 

Your celebrations are short lived though, because that night, when everyone else is asleep, Clarke comes to your shared room with Bellamy. “Can I come in?”

You turn to look at Bellamy, who nods, just as eager to hear about what all of you missed while you were gone earlier. So you step back and usher her into the room, closing the door softly behind her as she steps inside. The three of you pile into the bed facing each other, and your gaze drops down to your twin’s bandaged hand. “What happened? Start at the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”

“As soon as you guys left, Russell invited me to dinner with him and Simone so we could discuss whether we’d be allowed to stay. Unfortunately for us, Jordan spent most of his time talking to Delilah, telling her everything about us, the good and the bad. It got back to Russell and Simone, and they decided that we couldn’t stay because we’re violent people and violence spreads like a disease.”

“That explains your shock at Russell letting us stay. So what changed his mind? We heard him mention you saving Delilah, but how did you save her?”

“As soon as I got back from the dinner and changed, I went looking for Jordan because I was pissed that he ruined everything for us. But when I went to the roof to find him, he was passed out on a cot with a paralytic dart in his neck. He managed to point out a guy running away from the tavern with a covered wheelbarrow, which we later found out had Delilah inside. I chased after him, along with the guard, but we split up so he could go inform Russell. I eventually found the guy and fought him off, but he cut my hand in the process and he freaked out as soon as he saw my Nightblood.”

“Weird.”

She shakes her head, giving you a serious look. “It gets weirder. Russell and Cillian both saw my blood too and they acted really strange about it. Russell eventually cut his finger to show me that he too is a Nightblood. He said our blood is royal. Delilah’s too, which is why they took her. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t like how everyone reacted when they found out about our blood, which is why we need to make sure that they don’t find out about Madi. Cillian already knows about you because he stitched you up, and I’m sure he’s already told Russell.”

You nod, thinking of Cillian’s weirdness with you earlier. “Suddenly Cillian’s reaction to seeing my blood makes a lot more sense.”

Clarke mutters, “It feels like I have a target on my back.”

You reach out and take her hand, preparing to comfort her, but she shakes her head a little, sending the thoughts away, before she turns her gaze to Bellamy. “What happened to Octavia?”

He sighs, his shoulders sagging as she reminds him of what he’s done to protect all of you and your fragile alliance with Sanctum. “I left her behind. As long as she’s in Sanctum, she’s a threat to the peace we’re trying to achieve.”

You see Clarke open her mouth, looking like she wants to ask more, but you can tell from Bellamy’s body language that he doesn't want to say anything beyond that. So you squeeze Clarke’s hand, giving her a subtle shake of your head. “We’re exhausted and in desperate need of a good night’s sleep. Can we talk more in the morning?”

She nods, smiling a little, already sliding off the bed. “Of course.”

You follow her to the door, both of you hugging before she slips out into the hall with a quiet whisper of, “Good night, lovebirds.”

Leaving you and Bellamy to sleep in peace.

-

It’s beginning to seem to you that things in Sanctum are always chaotic.

You wake to find that today is Naming Day, though you never really understand what that means. Still, you take part in the city’s festivities, including first confession, and the tying of the ribbon on the lantern. Delilah finds you there and drags you and Clarke away, eager to dress you both for the party being held later in the evening. She dresses you both beautifully, Clarke in dark blue and you in silver, and you and your twin walk to the palace hand in hand, prepared to dance the night away. 

Cillian whisks her away as soon as he sees her, and Bellamy grabs you up right after. You spend hours dancing, catching a glimpse of a loved up Clarke and Cillian leaving sometime during the party, and you and Bellamy don't last much longer before you end up ditching the party in favor of some alone time. Bellamy shows you just how much he loves you, reminding you of what you were missing while he was in space, leaving both of you in a hazy high.

Bellamy is the first to fall asleep, but you are too enamored by the lantern ceremony outside, which is why you are now standing at the window, watching as hundreds of lanterns lift in the sky, rising until they are burned to ash by the radiation shield over Sanctum. You think of your ribbon, tied on the lantern above Clarke’s, Wanlida scrawled out on it. You pick a lantern, one that likely isn't even yours, and watch it lift from someone’s hands while you imagine that it’s your own. You feel lighter as it gets higher, taking the sins of Wanlida with it, until it finally hits the radiation shield over Sanctum, setting the lantern on fire and cleansing the sins of your past. It reminds you of a memory, long before Wanlida was a part of you, after Finn was killed for his sins in Tondc. You remember Lexa holding a torch over the bodies of Tondc, Finn among them, and Lincoln translating for all of you as she addressed the people gathered there in Trigedasleng. “Raun faya, oso woda klin laudnes-de kom foutaim.”

You feel arms wrap around your waist from behind, making you jump in surprise, despite knowing that it’s Bellamy. He drops his chin to your shoulder, translating your words. “In fire, we cleanse the pain of the past.”

You turn to look at him, seeing only parts of his face because he’s so close to you still. “Do you remember?”

He whispers back, “I remember.”

You turn back to the window, both of you watching the last of the lanterns rise and hit the shield, disappearing forever. Once the sky is clear, Bellamy releases you, reaching for your hand. “Come back to bed.”

You turn to look at him, the smile on his face, and you relent. “Only if you’ll tell me about the gods.”

“I’d love to.”

Both of you crawl back into bed, slipping beneath the covers, turning until you’re facing each other. Bellamy smiles at you with complete adoration before he begins, “Not long ago, the gods created the moon. She lights up even the darkest of nights, guiding travelers along their way. Not long ago, the gods created you.”

He brushes his fingers across your cheekbone, his touch feather light, and you smile at him as he continues, “To other people, you are the moon. But to me, you’re everything. The moon, the sun, the stars. You’re the air I breathe and the love in my heart. You are every leaf, every tree, every moon, planet, and galaxy in this endless Universe. You are everything to me, and you have completely captured my heart from the moment that I met you, though I tried to deny it at first.”

The two of you laugh softly as you remember the animosity that you shared in the beginning. Bellamy starts to sit up, pulling you up with him, both of you turning to face each other as you do. “I have never been loved by someone the way you love me, and I know I’m incredibly lucky that I get to have this. That I get to have you. You have loved me at my best, and you have loved me at my very worst, and even when I am lost and struggling, still you’re there, loving me through it all. You have the biggest heart, one that is so full of love that you are so eager to give, and I love you for that. I love your strength, your vulnerability, your kindness, your beauty. I love everything about you, and I just want to give you the world. I want to protect you, and love you, and make you happy until I draw my last breath. And I’ve been waiting to tell you all of this, waiting for the perfect moment during our new life of peace, but I’m starting to worry that I won’t get that chance.”

He reaches up to push your hair away from your face and you close your eyes and lean into his touch, smiling. When you open your eyes again, his hand is extended between the two of you, a small ring held out in his palm. It’s beautiful; a small round sapphire surrounded by a perimeter of tiny diamonds, all situated on a thin gold band. You look up at Bellamy in shock, his expression one of complete adoration as he whispers, “Will you marry me?”

You look between him and the ring, wondering if he’s joking, but when you meet his eyes again, you can see that he’s completely serious, and still anxiously awaiting your answer. Your face splits into a grin and you practically lunge towards him, pulling him into a hug before peppering kisses all over his face. He laughs, one of those bright pretty ones that you wish you could capture in a bottle and keep forever, and his voice is light with happiness when he says, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You kiss him softly on the lips, pulling away just enough to whisper, against them, “Yes.”

His smile gets even wider, and he pulls you in for another hug, before leaning back and holding up the ring again. He takes your hand and slides it onto your left ring finger, both of you marveling at the perfect fit. You admire the ring, and the way it looks on your finger as he whispers, “It was my mother’s.”

You look up at him, your eyes growing wide. “Oh, Bellamy.”

But he smiles, sadness unable to reach him in this moment. “She gave it to me before she was floated, told me to give it to the girl that captures my heart. I didn’t have it when I hopped on the dropship, but when I went back to the ring with the others, I went looking for it. I’ve had it with me everyday since I left you on Earth, carrying it with me to remind myself of the girl that captured my heart.”

Tears of happiness spill over your cheeks and onto the sheets beneath you as you reach out for Bellamy, pulling him towards you and kissing him, pouring all of the love you have for him into it. The two of you fall back into the bed together, kissing each other softly, letting each other know just how deep your love goes.

-

You wake up sometime in the middle of the night to a crash outside.

You immediately sit up, looking around, your room dark and still. Bellamy is beside you, still fast asleep, but the hairs on your arm are lifted, alerting you that something is wrong. You slide out of bed slowly, careful not to wake Bellamy, quickly pulling on Bellamy’s discarded shirt and a pair of your pants, before slipping out of your room and down the stairs. The ground level of the tavern is dark, lit only by a few lights outside, the establishment long since locked up for the night. Your eyes sweep over the room, finding nothing, and you stand at the bottom of the stairs frozen, listening and watching.

Still, the tavern is empty, no signs of disturbance. 

You shake your head, annoyed at yourself, sure that you’re on edge for nothing. You walk over to the bar, reaching for one of the many containers of alcohol, thinking that maybe you just need something to take off some of your edge, something to help mellow you out a bit and forget about the anxiety that always seems to sit beneath your skin. As you slide the bottle across the bar and over to you, you hear the door to the tavern creak open, and you spin around in shock.

You watch a tall figure step inside and pull the door closed behind them, and you tense up, growing worried again, until the figure steps into a beam of light, revealing Cillian. You let out a little laugh of relief, “Cillian, you scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry. I was just looking for your sister.”

“I thought she was with you, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything's fine. She just left earlier to watch the lanterns and I wanted to make sure she made it back here okay.” He steps towards you, into a larger beam of light, his clothes now visible to you. They’re different from his usual, fitted attire. These are much baggier, almost ratty, full of holes and covered in a thin layer of dirt. Something about it sends warning bells off in your head, and you set the bottle of alcohol back on the bar as Cillian smiles at you. “I am curious though, are you and your sister the only two with black blood?”

You think of Clarke mentioning the target on her back, and you can practically feel it being painted onto yours as you force out a casual laugh. “Yes, of course. Red blood is the norm, why would anyone else have anything different?”

Cillian continues to close the space between you, and you look around in a panic, wishing you had your Grounder knife on you. Or a gun, or something. Cillian tips his head to the side as he closes the last few feet of space between you. “Then why are you two different?”

“Genetic anomaly, I suppose. Twins are good for that, aren’t they?”

“Yeah.” He forces out a strained laugh before his face drops a little. “You shouldn't be afraid of me.”

You shake your head a little, sliding along the bar, trying to create space between you. You glance up at the stairs, wondering if anyone would hear you from here, before looking back to Cillian. “Afraid? I’m not afraid of you.”

You feel your legs tense up as you eye the stairs again, and without waiting for Cillian’s response, you take off running towards them, opening your mouth to scream as you do. Unfortunately, the scream in your throat dies at the same time you feel a prick in the back of your neck. Your body locks up, as if every cell within you is made of concrete, and you start to fall, caught at the last second by Cillian. Your eyes are wide with fear, genuine terror, and when he turns you around he sees this, lifting you into his arms easily and muttering, “Don't worry, it's a temporary paralytic. By the time we get you to the Children of Gabriel, you'll be fine.”

There is nothing for you to do but allow yourself to be carried out of the tavern in his arms. You try to move, or run, or scream, but your body refuses to obey any of your commands. Cillian is slipping between buildings, jogging lightly, and you’re terrified that you are about to be smuggled out of this village without anyone having a single clue of what happened to you.

Luckily for you, as Cillian steps out from one building and heads to a different one, you are spotted by two guards. They call out to him, trying to get him to stop, but he only picks up the pace, running as fast as he can. The guards split up, and one of them is able to cut him off around the next corner, blocking his path. “Put the girl down!”

Cillian looks down at you, and then to each of the guards that are blocking his exits before muttering, “Fine, okay.”

He sets you down gently, your only view a sliver of the sky and Cillian. He holds up his hands in surrender as he stares at the guard in front of him. “The Primes shouldn’t be allowed to have another host.”

Host? If they could, your brows would furrow, genuinely confused at what is going on. The guard yells back, “Shut up, cog!”

Cillian’s gaze flits down to you, and he whispers, “I am sorry. Death to Primes!”

And before anyone can say anything else, he quickly reaches into the waistband of his pants and pulls out a large knife, before dragging it across his throat. Blood spills out from the wound on his neck, some of it splashing down onto you, before Cillian drops to his knees, and then finally he falls forward, body stretched across you. The guards rush forward and pull him off of you before they check you over, taking in the frantic movements of your eyes. “They used the paralytic, we need to get her to Russell Prime.”

The other guard nods and he scoops you up, and you feel a rush of relief that whatever terrible end you were about to meet is no longer an option. Instead, you will be given to Russell, he will unparalyze you, and you will get back into your bed with Bellamy, putting all of this behind you like it’s just a bad dream. 

The guards carry you up to the palace, but instead of taking the stairs to the top they head to a door on the ground level. They knock on the door and wait, before it is opened by none other than Russell himself. “What is it? What happened to her?”

“Sir, Cillian was a traitor. He was one of the Children of Gabriel.”

“Was?”

“He paralyzed her and then tried to leave with her. When we confronted him, he slit his own throat.”

Russell nods, and thinks for a moment before he steps aside and motions for them to enter the room. “Come in, put her on the table there.”

The guard carries you inside, into a semicircle of skeletons, all of them standing and watching you like a creepy, undead army. You are laid out on a table in the center of them before the two guards both leave, presumably to clean up Cillian’s mess. Russell steps into your line of vision, smiling sadly down at you, brushing your hair back and away from your face. You hear a door push open nearby, and the staccato of shoes on the stone floor of whatever room you’re in, before a voice calls out, “What is this?”

Russell looks up and turns to face the figure, which starts to walk into your view, revealing Simone, his wife. He keeps his voice low, in case anyone is listening, “Cillian was the traitor. He killed himself but not before using the paralytic on Clarke’s twin.” 

Simone looks at you in confusion, “Russell, why haven't you used the antidote?”

“You know why.” He reaches up and touches a necklace around Simone’s throat, but she grabs his hand and holds it still as he continues, “She has the blood. Tell me not to do this, and I won't, Simone.”

She glances over at your unmoving form. “Jade is back. Rose is dead.”

“Okay, so here's the math. There are no more hosts. It was 14 years between Rose and Delilah. 14 years. Josie's still third in line. That means her host won't be born for at best 35 years, another 21 until her brain is ready. We can wait 56 years for our baby girl's Naming Day, or we can get her back tonight.” You feel your anxiety steadily start to grow as you listen to Russell’s words, the pieces slowly falling into place that you are still in danger. Cillian said something about hosts for the Primes, and you get a sickening feeling that you’re about to become one of them. Russell confirms your worst fears when he looks over you with pity and his voice drops a little to whisper to his wife, “All we have to do is kill this innocent girl.”

Simone looks at you long and hard, considering her options, before kissing her husband on the cheek and pulling open her necklace, revealing a small piece of technology. Russell takes it as Simone coldy says, “I'll prep for insertion. You clear the host.”

Your panic levels shoot off the charts and you start to cry, the only response your body can manage while still paralyzed. Russell walks over to you, dropping right into your vision, looking distressed to see you upset. “I'm sorry, I truly am.”

The tears fall harder, running over your nose and onto the table below you, and Russell reaches out to wipe them away, “Shh, please don't cry. Please. I promise you won't feel pain. The mind of the host is erased, but the brain is left unharmed. You're giving us such a gift, sacrificing your body so that someone else might live.”

You start praying to the Universe, begging for your life to be spared. You pray to your dad, and to Lincoln, to Jasper, and Monty, to anyone you can think of, crying and begging for all of this to just be a bad dream and for it to be over. But the Universe seems unwilling to save you this time, because Simone walks over, a syringe in her hands. When she sees her husband’s turmoil, she sets the syringe down to comfort him, her voice low. “Hey, listen to me. This was meant to be. After 236 years, just as we're on the brink of mortality, a ship arrives carrying this perfect vessel. This was meant to be.”

She passes him the syringe, and he takes it, holding it up so you can see it. Your fear turns to anger, and you wish you could move because you would kill Russell and Simone both for even considering this. There is nothing more that you want, other than to survive this and kill them both. 

But that is not what’s in your future, because Russell looks down at you, his inner turmoil now gone. “No more fighting, you’ll be at peace. Thank you for this.”

And then he slides the syringe into your neck, sending the liquid into your body while you’re unable to do anything. He pulls the syringe away and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, before leaning back to watch your final moments. And as you start to die, as your mind starts to be erased from the world, all you can think is that, after all the shit you’ve been through, this is it. This is how you go. All the death you’ve faced, all the times you’ve been choked within an inch of your life, and your death is ultimately at the hands of a set of parents, eager to bring their daughter back to life at the sake of making you lose yours. 

Along the edges of your vision, the darkness starts to creep in, and you feel another rush of panic as you realize that this is truly the end. You’re in your final seconds of life and none of the people that you love even know it. Your mind drifts to Madi, and braiding flowers into her hair. Clarke, and the countless nights the two of you spent laughing and talking. And then your mind settles on Bellamy, the love of your life, the man of your dreams, the ring he gave you still sitting heavy on your finger. A ring to symbolize a marriage that you will never get. A ring to symbolize a life that you will no longer be able to live. 

The last thing you see as the darkness rushes in, is Bellamy’s smiling face, framed by freckles and curls, nothing but love in his eyes.

-

Bellamy wakes up in a panic.

Subconsciously, it’s like his body knows that you aren't there beside him, and when he pulls his eyes open to the bright sun, he finds that he’s right.

You’re gone.

He dresses quickly and rushes to Madi and Clarke’s room, pounding on the door loudly before he’s greeted by Clarke, her hair a mess, her hands wiping the sleep from her eyes. Any other time the sight would be funny to him, seeing the normally put together Clarke looking anything but put together, but it’s not funny now, because all he feels is panic. “Have you seen la lune?”

“No, isn't she with you?”

“No, she was gone when I woke up.”

“Maybe she’s downstairs.”

“Something’s wrong, I can feel it.”

And now that Bellamy has said the words out loud, Clarke realizes that she can feel it too. The prickle of unease along her skin, the hairs on the back of her neck lifted, letting her that know something isn’t right. Which is why she grabs her shoes and follows Bellamy out of the room, both of them frantically searching every inch of the tavern. They find that your shoes are still in your room, but your pants are gone and so is Bellamy’s shirt from the night before. Everything else is in place, not a single item out of the ordinary.

They check the area around the tavern, finding nothing there either. Which is why they take off running to the palace in search of Russell, surprised to find you already there, talking to the leader of Sanctum. You turn to your twin and your fiance with a smile, greeting them both, mumbling something about ‘best laid plans’ before you pass Bellamy a map. He accepts it, and the three of you return to the tavern to look it over, alongside Murphy, who seems to notice nothing strange about you until you call him John.

Bellamy and Clarke are still both on edge, constantly questioning you on if you feel alright, a question you answer yes to every time, waving off their concerns. But they only grow more concerned when Gaia comes to all of you, telling you she saw Jordan go into the reliquary of the palace. And when you follow him inside, you discover the secret of the Primes: that they are coldblooded body snatchers, disguising themselves as gods.

Clarke, Bellamy, and the others are horrified. You, however, offer justification for their actions, something that confuses the two people closest to you. Maybe that's why they call a team meeting, under the guise of informing Madi of the danger she’s in, something your face lights up about when mentioned. But as Bellamy and Clarke fill Madi in on everything, their eyes stay on you, noting your mannerisms and the things you seem interested in. Their eyes only leave yours to calm down Jordan when he confronts Priya, a moment you use to carefully slip away, heading outside in search of Jade.

Bellamy and Clarke follow you and then confront you, finally confirming that something is wrong with you, despite your insistence otherwise. And it's only then, after you’ve drugged them both, do you reveal that you are not you after all.

You are Josephine Lightbourne, and your body is her new host.

-

The first thing Clarke Griffin does when she wakes up is scream.

It’s loud, and heartbreaking, and it wakes Bellamy, who’s chained beside her in a room deep within the palace.

And as soon as they lock eyes, as soon as they realize that you’re gone, they both lose it. When the guards arrive for the next shift change, the previous guards complain that Bellamy and Clarke haven’t quieted down since waking up. They’ve screamed and cried and then screamed again. They’ve smashed furniture, banged on walls, rattled their chains. They quiet down briefly with Murphy’s arrival, but as soon as they realize that he’s trying to play them, trying to force their hand into taking a deal that will leave your death unavenged, they kick him out and raise hell again.

Which is why the guards are relieved to see Josephine arrive later that evening, a knife carefully hidden in the sleeve of her jacket, because they realize they’re finally going to get some peace and quiet. 

That peace, however, is short lived.

Because Russell comes in minutes later, Murphy in tow, and the yelling resumes again. Clarke and Bellamy present a united front, and unleash a verbal tirade against everyone in the room. Eventually the guards wander off, tired of listening to the chaos inside, both of them missing the climax of the evening. Josephine, using your body, your hands, cuts Clarke’s hands free. Clarke kicks Josephine’s hand, knocking the knife out of her grip, watching it slide over to Bellamy, and he reaches for it as Clarke hits Josephine in the neck, forcing her to start coughing and choking. Clarke immediately spins towards Russell, kicking him in the stomach and watching as he doubles over. Bellamy calls Clarke’s name, and she turns his way as he tosses her the knife, which she grabs from the air before turning back towards Russell. She wraps her arm around his neck and uses her other hand to hold the knife to the artery in his neck. 

Russell’s eyes go wide and Clarke turns him slightly, until they’re facing Bellamy and Josephine. She’s held tight in Bellamy’s grip, the cord of restraint wrapped around her neck, just waiting for Clarke’s command to kill her. Murphy yells both of their names above the chaos, sounding panicked, “Stop, alright? You don't want them to kill all of us! Just think!”

“They won’t kill any of us if they’re all dead, Murphy.”

Russell struggles slightly in Clarke’s grip, and she presses the knife into his skin, nicking him. He winces, sucking in air through his teeth, freezing up completely, looking at his daughter with fear. “Josephine!”

Josephine looks at her dad, sounding apologetic, but Clarke can tell she only cares about saving her own life. “I'm sorry, daddy. Violence is all they know.”

She looks away from her father, her eyes moving to Clarke. “If killing him is what you need, then do it, but let the violence end here...an eye for an eye.”

“Why should I let the violence end here, Josephine? It took me and Bellamy seconds to get you and your father under control. Imagine how quickly we can kill the rest of the Primes when I tell the rest of our people what you’ve done.” Clarke looks at Bellamy, and he tightens his grip on Josephine’s neck, choking her slightly, proving her point. 

Murphy yells, “Wanheda, stop!”

Clarke freezes, the nickname making her blood run cold. “If you kill them, that’s what you become. The Commander of Death. Is that what you want? Is that really what your twin would want? You’ve done everything in your power to escape this nickname! Killing these people in your twin’s name would go against everything that both of you have worked for! And it would make you a murderer, no better than the Grounders, or the Mountain Men, or Pike, or McCreary. Because this isn't a kill for survival, this is revenge, plain and simple.”

Clarke looks at Bellamy, feeling the conflict warring inside of her, unsure what to do. She has done everything to escape Wanheda and the horrors of her past, and she knows that if you were here, you wouldn’t want her to kill everyone inside of Sanctum. But you’re not here and that’s the problem. Clarke’s struggling to see the point in anything; why do better and strive for peace if you’re not here to see it? Maybe she should just kill everyone, and really give herself over to Wanheda, become the killer that everyone seems to think she is. Everyone except for you. Her mind spins with her conflict, and Bellamy can sense it, catching onto the panic in her expression with ease. “It’s your decision, Clarke. I’ll support you, no matter what.”

The words are enough to decide for her, and the fight leaves Clarke’s body in a rush. Her grip loosens and the knife drops from her hand, clattering to the ground at her feet. She drops her arm away from Russell and he steps away from her, reaching up to touch the small amount of black blood that drips from the tiny cut on his neck. Bellamy releases Josephine, who seems to think the whole situation is a joke, smiling as she steps away from him and passes a pair of mind drives to Murphy, repeating Murphy’s earlier words back to him. “Big swings.”

The sight of the drives makes both Bellamy and Clarke sick, unable to even look at Murphy or Josephine. Russell looks between the pair with apprehension, trying to calm the situation further. “If you let us live, I can guarantee safety for the rest of your people. We'll share everything we've learned about surviving on this moon.”

Bellamy steps towards Russell threateningly, his gaze hard and angry, and he grinds out, “We are not doing this for you, we’re doing it for her.”

Russell nods and Clarke glances at Josephine, your silver moon necklace still hanging around her neck. “If my twin is dead, we want her jewelry back.”

Clarke holds out her hand expectantly, and Josephine glances at her dad, waiting for him to disagree. But instead he nods, motioning for her to give it up, and she scoffs before she quickly unchains the necklace and pulls off the engagement ring from Bellamy, dropping them both into Clarke’s hand with an eye roll. “It’s tacky, anyways.”

Clarke’s fist curls around the jewelry and she steps towards Josephine, fully intending to punch her, but Russell steps between the pair with an apologetic look on his face. “She didn’t mean that.”

“Yes she did.” But Clarke backs down anyways, earning a nod of satisfaction from Russell. “Good. We'll meet tomorrow to discuss the details of your compound. Do we have a deal?”

Clarke and Bellamy exchange a long look, both of them silently communicating in the way that only best friends can, both of them clearly hesitant to let this go. But then they both think of Monty and doing better, and how much you truly wanted to do better, and they nod, giving their approval to Russell. “We have a deal.”

When Bellamy shakes Russell’s outstretched hand, it feels to him like he’s made a deal with the devil.

-

Clarke and Bellamy inform the others of your death as soon as they’re free from the palace, and the news is taken hard by everyone. Madi struggles with it the most, and Clarke carries her up to their room to comfort her, staying by her side long after the young Nightblood has fallen asleep. Eventually, she leaves the room in search of Bellamy, the ring still tucked safely in her pocket, and she’s unsurprised to find him mourning near the pond in the center of the village, tears streaming down his face as he looks to the sky, his eyes locked on the moon. He doesn't wipe his tears away when Clarke sits down beside him. He would if it was anyone else, but he trusts Clarke, and he knows that she understands the loss he’s feeling, because she feels it too.

They sit in silence for a long time, side by side, mourning the bright la lune that they love so desperately. Clarke eventually passes Bellamy the ring, and he stares down at it, his heart breaking all over again. “She only had it for a few hours before they-”

He cuts himself off, his tears rising again, choking on his answer. He can't say it, can't think about it, too horrified to think of what you must have been experiencing in that moment. Alone, betrayed by someone you thought you could trust, killed without a second thought. It's almost too much for him to bear. It reminds him of being on the ring, separated from you after Praimfaya, and it makes his heart ache. He already went through this once, sure that he lost you then, though he had no proof. But now, he’s really sure, because your body’s walking around, but you’re not in it. Someone else is in control, because you’re no longer inside. Your memories are gone, your thoughts, feelings, emotions, all gone. Wiped from your mind to make space for someone else.

The thought makes him sick, and he has a half second to recognize the feeling before he turns and vomits, overwhelmed by the emotions of the situation. Clarke is unable to do anything but cry, heartbroken by the loss of her other half, destroyed by the idea that she’s no longer a twin. She’s a single child, the way everyone thought she was, and the loss clings to her. It wraps itself around her, curling between her fingers, tangling itself up in her hair, letting Clarke know that she’s the only child of Jake and Abby Griffin that remains in this world.

-

Meanwhile, Josephine is back in her own room in the castle. 

She is in her own clothes, with her own comforts, no longer forced to play pretend with the killers from Earth. She’s blissfully unaware, uncaring, of the pain she’s caused, or the trauma that she’s left behind in her wake. 

She pops a sleeping pill in her mouth and washes it down with a sip of water, before flicking off the light and settling back into her soft sheets, finally ready for her first sleep in her new body. Everything slows around her, fading away until there is nothing left in the world. She slips into darkness, falling into the comfort of sleep, numb to everything around her. And as Josephine’s consciousness fades, a flip switches in her body, your body, another consciousness awakening.

-

Your eyes fly open and you sit up with a gasp, panic heavy in your chest, remembering your death at Russell’s hands.

And somehow, some way, you’re in Arkadia, in the room you shared with Bellamy, and you are very much alive.

-

[andimlonely]

Sometimes the Truth is Comforting, too | Kokichi Ouma

Kokichi Ouma x f!reader | Kokichi has come down with Despair Disease, and everyone has a turn looking after him. You volunteer for the night shift, and have more trouble than usual deciphering what’s true and what’s false (aka, Kokichi gets liar disease but because he’s such a liar already, it makes him tell the truth)

✧✿Angst, fluff

A/N: This turned out quite a bit longer than I intended, and it took longer too, but I like how it turned out in the end. I hope you will too ❤

______________________________________________________________

You never thought you would end up here, in the dorm of the Ultimate Supreme Leader, in a chair at his bedside and tending to his fever.

After Kokichi collapsed in the dining hall, Monokuma finally confirmed that he was sick after you all spent the whole day speculating why he had been acting so strange; though at that point, no one really thought otherwise. What you hadn’t expected, was that Kokichi’s fever isn’t just due to some infection or cold, but something you’ve never even heard of before: Despair Disease.

The group collectively agreed that in order to prevent someone from attacking Kokichi while he’s weak, or risking him dying from the fever, everyone would take turns watching over him, and you volunteered yourself for this shift. You figured since you sleep late anyway, it might as well be you with the night shift.

When you first entered the room, you were actually surprised by all the clutter. What even are all those boxes? Do you even want to know?

You try not to think about it, and instead decide to step out for a drink of water and a snack from the kitchen. You don’t know how long you might be here, so you might as well get comfortable.

But as you get up out of your seat and make your way to the door, Kokichi’s weakened whine halts you before you can leave, “(y/n)~”

“Kokichi, I’ll be right back. I’m just gonna get some water, okay--”

“But you can’t leave me here alone,” he suddenly sits up, eyes and skin dewy and hair a mess, “I might die!”

“That.. But, I’m only going to be gone a second.”

You couldn’t even refute his fear. If you’ve learned anything in this nightmare scape, it’s that you can’t trust anyone, that someone is always scheming and looking for any window they can to escape.

“You have to stay. Everyone knows I’m sick, and nobody likes me. Do you really think no one will try to come in here and kill me?”

You’re taken aback by his casually honest words. “Kokichi..”

“I took water bottles and snacks from the kitchen the other day,” he says in attempts to bribe you, “So stay.”

“..Okay.”

You go back to your seat, still registering what he said a moment ago. You always hesitate to believe what the boy says, but tonight his facade is different, softer.  

Kokichi had spent most of the evening asleep, with Gonta and Tsumugi keeping watch over him to prevent anyone from taking advantage of his weakened state. Of course it would be your luck that by the time it was your shift, Kokichi would be awake and somewhat delirious, and eager to talk to you. You’re thankful though; this Despair Disease seems to have rid him of his crude remarks for some reason.

But somehow his somber and emotional demeanor isn’t as enjoyable as you thought it would be. It might be nice that he isn’t insinuating you’re promiscuous, or teasing you about any number of your quirks, but seeing him so.. sentimental has your heart feeling heavy instead.

“Hey, Kokichi.. Here, give me that,” you order gently, gesturing to the drying washcloth on his forehead.

You take the cloth and run it under the sink, wringing it out a little so it isn’t dripping excessively when you carry it over to him.

Without a thermometer, you’re left just pressing the back of your hand to his forehead and cheeks. You withdraw it quickly the first time, recoiling from the intensity of his temperature against your skin. It seems like his fever isn’t going down much at all.

“You know, you’re so nice, (y/n).”

You let Kokichi babble about how kind you are as you place the damp washcloth back on his forehead and search for the alleged water bottles he has lying around. Kokichi needs to start drinking more water, or you worry he might not get any better very soon. You might not be his biggest fan, but you certainly don’t want him to suffer through this, and even less, die.

“Really, (y/n), I think you’re suuuper nice. That’s why I like you.”

“Kokichi, I think you should save the teasing for later.. Just take it easy right now.”

“But I’m not teasing, (y/n). You’re really really nice.”

“Thank you.. Anyway, here, drink as much water as you can, okay?”  

Kokichi obliges, and sits up slowly, his muscles aching and head pounding. The heat bubbling under his skin has him in a daze, everything seems a touch slower. You lean and reach over him to grab something, close enough for him to pick up your scent, and it feels like you’re there for hours - can’t you stay here that long? The urge to close his arms around you comes too late, and you’re back in your seat now, scribbling something in a notebook like you were when he just woke up.

In his daze, he can’t tell if you’re writing or drawing something. He also doesn’t realize he’s staring at you, but you don't seem to notice it either.

He watches your eyelashes open and close, open and close, your eyes trained to the (f/c) notebook in your hands. Would you look up from your book more if he were someone else? If it was Shuichi, or even Kiibo, lying here? Probably.

“Um.. Are you okay, Kokichi?”

Having noticed his pensive stare, you ask him this, your head tilted cutely.

He smiles and says absently, “No.”

Your eyes flick up from your book instantly. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t wanna die.”

Die..? The word alone has your heart sinking deep into your chest. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel a duller version of the shock that overcomes you when one of your classmates’ body is found.  

You want to believe it's the delirium of his fever that has him talking like this, but something tells you that isn't true.

"You won't die. You're going to be okay. You’re.. You’re making me nervous, Kokichi.”

“Sorry.”

His apology brings you a pang of guilt. Him talking like this does make you nervous, but maybe you should keep it to yourself. It’s understandable he would feel fearful when he’s suffering from this previously unknown disease; maybe it even causes paranoia. It is Monokuma’s conception, and he did say that it’s a motive of sorts, so it must be awful.

“No, it’s okay.. But, really, you’re going to be alright. That’s why I’m here looking after you, so your fever doesn’t get worse, okay? Don’t worry.”

You’re misunderstanding him. Even if he does survive the Despair Disease, will he survive the Killing Game? He becomes less sure of it everyday. If he weren’t pretty clever, someone might’ve already killed him by now. But it’s only a matter of time until it actually happens. Your hands might be the ones to get dirty. You could even do it now, while he’s weaker than usual. At least then it would have been someone he..

No. He doesn’t want to die at all, and he can’t pretend he would be okay with dying at your hands.

“Hey, Kokichi?.. About what you said earlier..”

He blinks, having trouble accurately recalling what he’s said, let alone what you might be talking about.

“You know.. About everyone not liking you. It’s not that we don’t like you, it’s just..”

How can you explain it? You can’t truthfully say that anyone else is fond of Kokichi, but you also wouldn’t say that everyone hates him.. At least you think so, until all the hostile or at least skeptical interactions between Kokichi and one of the others play back in your mind. A sense of guilt accompanies your memories of your own rude moments, and you have to remind yourself why everyone is wary of him. No one would treat him this way if he weren’t so dishonest, or crude, and if he didn’t seem to find this Killing Game so fun.

But the more you think about his actions, the more you realize that more of it might be farce than you thought before, that maybe you were missing that it’s something else he’s hiding when he lies. After all.. Would someone happy, with nothing to hide, and nothing to fear, really lie so much?

“I’m supposed to be the liar, not you, (y/n),” Kokichi grins. In spite of his smile, you can see pain is reflected in his clouded violet eyes. “I know everyone hates me. Even you. Thanks for taking care of me, though. It’s really nice to take care of someone you hate.”

“That’s not true, Kokichi.. I don’t hate you. Why do you think that?”

“I just know. I mean, I know why. I’m a jerk to you, so I deserve it.”

Normally he’d probably say something like that with a pouted lip and lilted voice, but as you scan his features, you see that he isn’t just saying this to mock you.

“...I don’t hate you. I wouldn’t be here if I did.”

But you had to be here, didn’t you? Everyone probably pulled straws or something to see who was stuck with him. Or maybe you’re here out of pity. Maybe you didn’t want him to get worse, but only ‘cause you care about people in general, not him specifically, and sure that's a selfish thought, but the point stands.

You two sit in silence for awhile.

Kokichi occupies himself with the sliding puzzle you found in the warehouse, his thumbs deftly switching pieces like he's being timed. You listen to the constant clacking, a storm of questions weighing heavy in your mind.

"..How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess. Head hurts and stuff."

"Is it really bad?"

He hums in contemplation, "Kinda."

Despite his casual answer, you can’t stifle the panic that’s starting to rise in your stomach. You wish there were some medicine or something you could give him to help. A fever can go away on its own, but without medicine Kokichi could also get a lot worse.

"Do you need anything? I can get more water or--"

"Sit with me," he orders, “Please?”

He really is delirious. Your initial reaction is to refuse him, but the longer you look at his flushed face and pleading eyes, and the longer you think about how terrible he must be feeling, you find yourself unable to say no.

“Um.. Okay. But only for a second.”

It’s only because he’s sick, you tell yourself as you settle in next to him awkwardly. You keep your eyes on your lap, or on the opposite wall, or anywhere but Kokichi, and he doesn’t seem to mind. Unlike you, he isn’t uncomfortable at all. Instead, he’s so comfortable that he leans his head on your shoulder, and after a moment of listening to each other’s breathing, he closes his eyes and starts to hum.

Your eyes start to wander until you’re looking down at him, stifling the desire to stroke his dark, soft-looking locks. His humming lulls you into feeling less tense, and eventually you’re leaning your head onto Kokichi’s, trying to ignore the painful feeling in your heart as it races. If you’re not careful, you might end up falling asleep like this, and part of you doesn’t even mind.

Knock knock.

Both startled by the sudden knocks at the door, you exchange glances with Kokichi, who in his daze just stares at you owlishly. You glance briefly at the clock; your shift is still far from over. It essentially just started.

An uneasiness follows you as you make your way to the door, thankful for the pocket knife you always keep handy just in case. Never have you planned to use it, but you will if you have to, if only to incapacitate someone.

"Shuichi," you sigh upon opening the door, "What are you doing here?"

Immediately your dread dissipates at the sight of him, and the hand at your side relaxes. He gives you a sheepish smile, his hand on the nape of his neck.

"Ah, hi.. I just thought I should check up on you. How's Kokichi?"

"He's still pretty warm," you frown, stepping aside so Shuichi can see for himself.

"Hi, Shuichi," Kokichi greets from his bed, to which the Ultimate Detective reciprocates with a small greeting of his own.

He speaks to you briefly, asking you if Kokichi has been acting suspicious at all and if you feel okay being alone for your shift. You assure him everything is okay and that if anything happens you'll do your best to keep yourself and your 'patient' safe.

Still the slightest concerned, the male nods, "Well, I think that's all. Oh, that's right. Here, I found these in the warehouse. They seem safe and should help reduce Kokichi's fever."

You take the small bottle of pain medication and thank him. "Thanks, Shuichi. Be careful getting back."

Painkillers. You're surprised Monokuma was merciful enough to leave these in the warehouse for you all, you muse as you walk back to your chair.

Before you can even settle back into your seat, Kokichi hits you with a flustering question.

"Do you like Shuichi?"

"W-what? Of course, he's my friend."

"I mean do you have a crush on him," he clarifies, sounding like a child asking his babysitter about her love life.

"N-no! I don't like him like.. that."

"Well then is there someone else you like? You can tell me. I probably won't even remember any of this tomorrow."

Suddenly you feel the need to avert your gaze, completely caught off guard by this conversation.

"N-no, I.. there's no time to focus on things like that here.."

"That doesn't mean you can't have feelings. So... who is it?"

There's a chance that you are telling the truth and the topic alone is just that flustering for you. But Kokichi doesn't buy it. Or maybe he doesn't want to. But really, isn't this simultaneously the most and least perfect place for feelings to take root? Trapped within a limited space, with the same faces everyday, and, unless you're a fool, with absolutely nothing to look forward to day to day? Isn't that just asking for bonds to form, and then unceremoniously break, because this is still the Killing Game?

Even if you're too afraid and too angry to pursue someone, you probably still think about someone when you're sitting with them for breakfast, when you're on the way to the location of a body, when you're alone in your room.

"Kokichi, I'm not going to tell you something like that.. There's nothing to tell anyway."

"Hmm, how about this. I'll tell you mine then you tell me yours. Deal?"

After some back and forth and endless prodding, the Ultimate Supreme Leader does what he does best and manages to persuade you, if only to get him to stop bothering you. Plus.. like he said, he probably won't remember anyway, right? Maybe it wouldn't hurt to get something off your chest.

"Okay, I'll give you a hint."

"What?? But you said--

"She's cute, and she has (h/c) hair and… she's looking at me right now."

"W-what?! What are you saying..?"

"I'm saying I like you."

You feel like you're the one with a fever now. It takes you a moment, but you remember exactly who you're talking to, and how he would never say something like this except to make fun of you.

"That's not funny..," you mutter, gripping the bottle in your hand as you avert your eyes.

Suddenly your hand is in his clammy one, and you're staring at his flushed face, eyes shining with sincerity, or what he wants you to think is sincerity.

"I'm not joking, (y/n). I really like you," he insists, seeming confused as to why you're fighting him.

“S-stop it, Kokichi. Stop talking like that," you say as you try to pull your hand from his grip.

He doesn't let you go, insistent that he's telling you the truth. You wish you didn't want to believe it so much. You should have let the subject go, but it's too late to brush it off now.

"If you like me so much then why are you telling me now?.. Why haven't you told me before?"

Why say it now, when he's not even in his right mind?

"I didn't know how to say it, but I mean it. I really like you."

Of all the mean-spirited things he's said to you, this is one of the worst. Here you are caring for him - after volunteering to no less - and keeping watch over him, and he still can't even treat you nicely? Are your feelings really so insignificant to him that he can't keep from toying with them?

"You don't like me, Kokichi! I'm not going to fall for that so just stop, please!"

"How do you know that?," he cries, voice wavering lightly. You almost believe he's genuinely upset.

"I don't know," you reply bitterly. "I don't know anything about you. How can I? You want me to believe you but all you do is lie and hide the truth."

"But--"

You rise out of your chair, tossing two capsules of medicine onto his covers.

"No, just, just leave me alone. Take those and get some rest. I'll be here if you need anything but if you don't, then just leave me alone, please."

And to your surprise, he does. He doesn't say a thing for the rest of your shift, and eventually drifts to sleep, leaving you to soak alone in the wave of emotions roaring over you.

'Was I too harsh..?'

You can't help but question yourself. At the time you were completely convinced that Kokichi was only messing with you, trying to play with your emotions for fun, but now you feel guilty. What if it was true? Or what if he didn't mean any harm, and was just genuinely confused because of his high fever?

It's 2 a.m. when someone knocks on the door. You don't notice it at first because you're so consumed with the cycle of emotions that run through you at the thought of everything that Kokichi has said tonight.

You don't even feel relieved when Kiibo comes in for his turn; instead, you're almost angry. Angry at yourself and at Kokichi, and how you can't just have a normal conversation with him, how much you wanted to believe everything he told you in these past few hours.

After bidding the android good luck, you tuck yourself in for the night, still conflicted about the truth.

----

By the next afternoon, it's as if Kokichi was never sick to begin with. Due to everyone's careful watch, he had almost fully returned to his regular, obnoxious self.

Once you were aware of his recovery, his previously flushed face back to its typical pale hue, you actively avoided him every time you saw him. Somehow you aren't sure whether to be angry or happy that every time, he doesn't acknowledge you at all. It's not as if he would greet you like you want him to; he would probably just mock you, and tell everyone how sentimental you were being while watching over him last night.

You try to remind yourself that he probably doesn't remember anything after all, but the thought tugs at your heart as you realize that would mean he was more delirious than you thought, that he didn't mean anything he said..

Most of the day is wasted on those thoughts, little room in your mind to do anything else but mull it over.

Until you find an envelope on the floor of your room. It must have been slipped underneath your door, since you always make sure to lock it while you're away, and it's definitely meant for you because your name is scrawled along the back.

Upon opening it, you find enclosed a note and a small flower, its petals slightly crumpled.

'Dear (y/n),

Meet me in the courtyard at 7. It's important, so please come.

- Shuichi'

You can't imagine why Shuichi would summon you, and you're not even convinced this really is from Shuichi, but you decide to go nonetheless. Whoever sent this, you'll learn something from this encounter, you know that much.

Armed with your pocket knife and a mini taser you convinced Miu to make you, you step out into the courtyard, hoping you won't need to use either.

The sun is set, but it's relatively light out still as you move further from the dorm hall, which slightly eases your anxiety. But it comes back as you realize it's only a couple minutes before 7, and Shuichi is nowhere to be seen.

You walk further, thinking maybe he's coming from a different building, but you're stopped when someone taps on your shoulder.

"Heya, (y/n)," Kokichi greets casually, his arms tucked behind his head.

Immediately you try to move in a different direction, your eyes avoiding his, "I'm supposed to be meeting up with someone right now."

"Yup, me! I left you that note, not Shuichi."

You turn around to see him grinning, unable to decipher whether he's lying. "What..? But then why--"

"I knew you wouldn't come if it was from me, so I lied a little."

What else is new?

All the curiosity from before has left you now, leaving only exasperation. "What do you want, Kokichi?"

He drops his grin from a moment ago and sighs.

"Look, I'm sorry that I tricked you, okay? I just didn't know how else to get you to come here. But hey, listen, did I say anything.. weird yesterday? I can't remember much, so.. I wanted you to fill me in."

That's why he called you here? So he can clear up anything he said with some nonsense excuse?

"Yes, a lot…," you reply curtly, ready to walk away.

Before you can get more than a few steps away from him he stops you, "O-okay, wait, wait! That's not why I called you here. Just hear me out, alright?"

"Fine.."

"So.. I actually remember everything from last night. At least most of it, I think. I know I upset you, right?"

You nod wordlessly, and he continues.

"And it's 'cause you didn't believe my feelings for you. Right?"

"K-kind of.."

"Well.. I actually wasn't lying. I was trying to give you this yesterday, but since you were pissed at me I'm giving it to you now, so.. here."

In the arm hidden behind his back he holds a cardboard box, maybe a little bigger than the size of his head. Could it be one of the boxes you saw lying around in his room? He hands it to you, and it's heavier than expected.

"What.. is this?"

"It's a present, but y'know, there's no wrapping paper here so I just left it like that. Anyway, just open it. I promise it's not a bomb."

That hadn't crossed your mind but now you're less convinced that this present is something innocuous. But if Kokichi is still standing less than a foot away from you, you reason that whatever is in here can't be immediately dangerous. Hopefully.

You sit down, finding it easier to open this way, and when you open the flaps of the box, you're left furrowing your brow.

"What is all this?"

"They're weapons and stuff I told Miu to make."

You can see that much, but you're left wondering why. Is this some kind of joke too?

"I've had 'em for awhile. You can find out what they do if you look at her instructions and my blueprints."

"But, I don't get it.. why did you have her make these,  and why give them to me?"

"'I had her make those so we could find the mastermind, but if I die before we can use them, then you guys are screwed. I was waiting to see who I could trust, so I kept it a secret. Plus, if I told anyone else, they'd probably rat me out to everybody. So.. since you're not stupid enough to do that, and stuff.. I'm giving them to you."

You look up at him, only met with his side profile while he stares elsewhere, hands behind his head like they were before.

"I didn't know you thought so much about all this.."

Kokichi has his back turned to you now, in attempts to seem nonchalant, but really, he doesn't want to have to mask the emotions that might break through his expression.

"Meh. I couldn't let the game get boring, so. Plus it's fun to order Miu around, have you ever tried it?"

You dig around in the box, curious if there's anything else, and there is.

A kubspad.

Could it be..?

Your eyes flood first with happiness and then tears as images of your loved ones flash before you, first with smiles on their faces. You choke back a sob as Monokuma alludes to something terrible by the end of it. It's nothing you haven't considered before, but the thought that they could be suffering or worse is always distressing.

"K-Kokichi.. You had this?"

"Not at first, but yeah."

He clears his throat, uncomfortable with the lump that's started to form there.

"I was gonna show everyone's motive video, right? But then you guys got in the way, but I still saw them all. I was tempted to show you yours but I didn't know if you were trustworthy yet, so I held onto it."

Kokichi half expects you to snap at him for keeping this from you for that long, and he braces himself for it. He couldn’t really blame you for being mad about that; you obviously care a lot about the people in your video, and even he could understand the dread of not knowing exactly what was happening to them. But you don’t snap at him - instead, your voice is the softest he’s ever heard it.

"Thank you," you murmur, the pad pressed tightly to your chest.

He isn't sure what to say now. What do you say to someone when they're sad, when you don't want them to be?

At a loss of what else to do, he sits down beside you and plays with the grass. He has the urge to crack a joke to lighten the air but he has a feeling you might not appreciate it right now.

Still, the silence is making him restless and you notice it.

"Kokichi.. Do you really.. Like me?"

He doesn’t say anything right away, leaning back and letting his back rest on the grass.

“Ha.. I don’t know why I said that. Just forget about it, ‘kay?”

It’s easier said than done, and he knows that. He knows you can’t just forget, and he knows he can’t just forget. What he doesn’t know is why he cares. Why should he care how you feel, or how he feels, or about anything at all? It was simpler before you became a recurring thought, before just seeing you was infuriating because his stomach would fill with butterflies and he didn’t understand so he thought you just made him sick. That thought is kind of funny now, especially after you spent hours tending to his fever, worrying about him.

Despite what Kokichi is thinking, his words make your heart drop into your stomach.

“What? How can I forget that?”

“Well it’s not like you.. like me or anything,” he utters, and for a moment you know he’s sincerely crestfallen, but he recovers with a nonchalant smile, “Sooo, just forget it! It’ll just be awkward if you don’t, and neither of us wants to deal with that.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you realize, it was never that Kokichi was lying to you; he was afraid all this time.

“I’m not going to forget it.”

He sits up, caught off guard by your serious tone. “Huh? Why not?”

“Because,” you pause, steeling yourself to say it, "Why would I want to forget if I feel the same way?"

Kokichi is ready to make a doubtful remark but you continue before he can.

"That's why I got so upset at you.. I didn't want you to get my hopes up. I thought maybe somehow you knew that I had feelings for you and you were making fun of me for it. Plus.. I never considered you could actually feel the same way."

When you first realized you felt something for Kokichi, you were confused and angry more than anything. Sure, he is cute, but he’s always kidding about things you shouldn’t and stirring up trouble for everyone else. Not to mention that having feelings for someone, let alone someone like Kokichi, in a situation like this is just ridiculous, and not something to think about.

You finally bring yourself to look at the boy sitting next to you, curious why he’s been silent, but his knees are to his chest and his face is buried into them. Hesitantly, you place a hand on his shoulder.

“..Kokichi? What’s wrong? You’re making me nervous.”

At his continued silence, you tug on his white sleeve, “Kokichi.”

He lifts his head but doesn’t face you at first. You notice his shoulders shaking, and worry he might be crying. When he finally faces you, you see that tears are dripping down his cheeks, but he’s also.. smiling?

“What’s wrong?”

“Ugh, it’s this stupid disease. It’s making me all mushy,” he sniffles. “Don’t get used to this. I never ever cry. Ever.”

You’re only half convinced that his illness is to blame, but you’re relieved he’s okay anyway. Feeling emboldened, you slide a little closer to the boy and wrap your arms around him, for his sake and yours. It feels surreal being this close to him, feeling strands of his hair poke your cheek as you take in his scent and his warmth, a feeling you’ve thought about for so long.

Kokichi’s thin frame goes stiff, “H-hey! Geez, you’re needier than I thought..”

You pull away, a little disappointed but mostly embarrassed, but you’re pulled back into him almost immediately.

“But so am I! Guess we’re kinda made for each other or whatever, huh?,” he murmurs cheekily into your ear.

“Kokichi!”

He chuckles as he squeezes his arms tighter around you, and though you can’t see it, he’s smiling tenderly, newly instilled with determination to bring down the mastermind, to keep both of you alive at all costs.

The sincerest you’ve ever heard him, Kokichi makes a simple request of you. “Stay with me, okay?”