#my child's never seen a MICROSCOPE BEFORE

[dozing-marshmallow]

OTHER FRANKIE X READER: BIRTHDAY! ONE SHOT

In honour of my birthday today!❤️

You didn’t tell him it was your birthday.

Hell, you didn’t even remember it was your birthday today.

It’s hard to keep track of dates here, but even if you did have an up to date calendar or access to a computer, you would have kept it a secret. What business did this lazily written plot device have knowing your birthday?

Like your apartment, you have no idea how he knew.

Nor why he was making a big deal out of it.

“Frankie, for the last time, it’s not that deep. I don’t care about my birthday.” you grumbled, throwing your head back at the rabbit’s jarring refusal to listen.

“But lucky contestant! It is my duty as the host to honour the day you were birthed!” what kind of stupidity was that?

“No, it’s not.” you spat one more time before you walked off. Your thought process must have been hey, if I physically go, he won’t bother anymore, but nope. A few minutes later, he appeared in the doorway and knocked on the wall of the monitor room.

“Special delivery for the contestant.”

You turned around, and your eyelids shrunk. Frankie was holding a tray with a traditional birthday delicacy on it. He set it in front of you.

“What- Where did you get this cake from?” you asked suspiciously, eyeing it: it was in the shape of the contestant mask, however, the cake itself had clean white icing and sprinkles scattered all around it, with the words “Happy happy birthday!” piped in the centre in red calligraphy. You were slightly annoyed by how childish it was, though that annoyance slipped away when you sneakily dipped your finger in the frosting and licked it- the taste of vanilla explodes in your mouth.

Lighter in hand, Frankie began setting the candles’ heads ablaze,”Don’t question miracles, contestant.”

You were enticed by the glowing ovals, like you were ten years old again. It always fascinated you how gentle the fire was like this and how easily it could hurt you if you were too close.

You were about to blow them out, but Frankie stopped you by placing his hand as a buffer zone,“Ah ah, not yet, contestant!” you nearly kissed it.

“Huh? What-“

“No birthday celebration can be certified without the anthem!” he announced mirthfully.

Your face instantly boiled and you shook your hands,“No no, no, please, you don’t need to, I’m okay-“

In the face of your denial, he began, manipulating his voice to be lyrical as that permanent smile matched appropriately,“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to-“

Oh my God-,“No noooo, stop it! Frankie please, you’re embarrassing me.” you whined, covering your face, if only you had enough to cover your ears too.

It was almost like he was on autopilot, because he literally did not react to your pleas,“-you, happy birthday to our lucky contestant!”

“Please stop.” you let out defeated, knowing there was no point in asking when he had one line left.

“Happy birthday to-“ he took a deep breath, before finishing on a long opera style of tone,”You!”

You glanced up, surprised that he was capable of such a voice,”Well damn.” for a moment, you felt inclined to clap.

He gestured to your candles enthusiastically,“Go on, make your wish!”

You silently looked back at the cake, the glowing circles of flame on top of each colourful pieces of wax. The whole thing was hard to sit through, but it was your birthday. This was how you were going to spend it. You were now a year older. 

This setting, you had seen it many times, yet it was still appealing. It was strange how so much could change in such a short span. Your life, from your eyes, was lengthy, but to the universe, it was microscopic. The distance from when you used to be so excited to wear your Wellington boots, rushing home to play on your DS, playing with your kitchen set, wasn’t that long.

You quietly laughed to yourself. There the biggest tragedy was homework.

Ah, easier days.

Easier days that you would never get back. The time of being a little child, whose diet was mainly dino nuggets, who was still learning how to pronounce basic letters, whose biggest worry in the world was why the moon appeared to be chasing the car, was gone. All kinds of memories flooded through... The friends you would never see again after leaving the ball pit, the bouncy castles that your kindergarten hired every year around your birthday, the joy of finally riding the gifted bike without training wheels.

It was a good life, which was buried now. Little (Y/N) was buried. Little (Y/N) was still here, of course, but under the layers of reality checked adolescence and bleak adulthood. You would never be that innocent child again. You always knew that, but the occasion rubbed it in. Each birthday, you’re just gonna get older and older- that is, if the next season doesn’t kill you.

Then your heart tightened. How devastated would (Y/N) be to see you like this... A person who’s grown so numb to all things fun?

No. For the sake of that little child, you’ll live. You’ll appreciate every little thing and you’ll put a little more effort into making your life one worth surviving for.

The flames went extinct.

Frankie clapped, oblivious to your existential reflection,”Bravo! I hope you made your wish wisely, congratulations on seeing a new age! Here’s the knife-“ he handed you a cleaver from nowhere,”Do the honours!”

For a knife so large, it was surprisingly light. Or maybe it was your newfound determination. You grin at the robot, not only for making a big deal of your birthday, but for essentially reminding you of how temporary your life was,“Thanks, Frankie. I’m sorry I was rude earlier.”

He waved dismissively,“Don’t worry about that, contestant! It’s your special day! Now cut the cake, will you? I’m curious about the inside!”

[destinationtrekk]

Well I've been going a bit... Unhinged lately; and the umbrella reader prompt gave me a few... Ideas

Umbrella reader who fell first for wesker? In the whole yandere-ish way? Like "I have an entire scrapbook dedicated to him" way???

oh man this is a good one. cut added bc it ended up much longer than i expected

you’ve been working at umbrella for a while, you’re no longer just a rookie assistant. You’re in charge of your own lab and techs, and they actually like you, which makes manipulating them a lot easier

everyone knows who Dr. Wesker is. And i mean everyone. There isn’t a soul in the building, in the entire company, who doesn’t either shiver or scowl at his name. He’s umbrella’s golden child, after all, especially since Birkin went and got himself killed.

he is not known for being friendly, but he was never cruel to you, at least. Nowadays he’s out making deals and monsters so his time in the actual labs are rare, so every moment you see him is like a miracle from god.

you notice everything about him in these days. The cut of his trousers, how much gel is in his hair, which pair of sunglasses he’s wearing (no one except you even realizes he has different pairs - seven of them, to be exact). You even count his breaths when you’re both in the same lab and one of the assistants is pissing him off (he actually breathes slower when he’s angry, like it takes every ounce of focus to keep his composure)

this is when you think things might be getting out of hand. You’ve gotten yourself into quite a situation. You’re thinking about him constantly - in traffic on the way to work (he drives an unmarked, pristine black sports car), when you’re hunched over your desk working (he actually wears headphones when he’s using a microscope, you noticed he doesn’t like the sound of the slides clicking), when you’re cooking dinner (he never eats during his shifts, and he scowls at anyone who isn’t using a napkin in the break room) - even when you’re showering, all you can do is remember the smooth scent of his air when he walks past you.

you’re certain you know everything about him now. Even his cologne. A few weeks ago he leaned over your shoulder to correct one of your equations, his voice quiet and void of any emotion, and before he stepped away you got a solid breath of his expensive cologne - subtle, woodsy, deep, intoxicating. You went home and spent half the night looking up the undertones of every single obscure cologne you could find, because no way was it cheap or popular, until you found what you think was the right one

(you order it and a week later, you’re elated to find you were correct. Now your entire bed smells like him)

you make your move on a Tuesday. The entire lab had been whispering about annual reviews, Wesker would be conducting them himself since the other supervisors were busy. A few weeks earlier you had seen his coffee cup in the trash and memorized his order (ew, but you had big plans) and you had left a perfect cup of coffee on his desk before he arrived, conveniently walking past him in the halls just a few minutes later and flashing your most charming smile. He actually smiled back

later that day he leaned over your shoulder again, mouth brushing your ear and hand next to yours on your desk, and his voice was pure sin.

“My office, Doctor, three o’clock. I think we have a few things to discuss.”

needless to say, the two of you are inseparable after that

[mirrorball-leclerc]

track 005. jugaste y sufrí

─── ❝ yo ya no quiero sufrir, quiero ser feliz ❞ ───

masterlist // previous // next

lando norris so i guess oscar unknowingly became a dad??

ollie bearman why is that where you brain immediately goes?

mae jones his brain needs to be studied under a microscope.

checo perez can i leave now?

dulce perez si yo tengo que sufrir tú también tío! checo perez ya me voy. daniel jones-ricciardo unless austin shows up in texas or vegas. checo perez mierda.

fernando alonso sergio! there are children here!

bailey winters have any of you tried locking them in a closet?

penelope trevino hmm. that might work.

ollie bearman what she needs is therapy. sebastian literally said she was afraid of falling in love. AUSTIN MADE HER CRY IN MIAMI!

arthur leclerc she would've cried over anything. she's an emotional person.

dulce perez have you see the group picture? max verstappen she was crying over tangled.

daphne jones-ricciardo i cry over tangled too. it's a beautiful movie.

pierre gasly that's because you are rapunzel and daniel is flynn rider.

arthur leclerc but yes, she does need therapy.

logan sargeant has anyone seen oscar? we were supposed to meet up for lunch?

oscar piastri i forgot sorry. logan sargeant YOU DITCHED ME?

max verstappen go have lunch with zoya or something.

zoya torres what the fuck? why are you signing me up for things? max verstappen if you show up one more time to my apartment crying over your ex and hoping to steal my cats were going to have problems. zoya torres it was only twice. mae jones it's been 7, he started keeping track. there is a board on our fridge and everything.

dulce perez hey, you know who else is missing?

daniel ricciardo-jones SHUT UP!

ollie bearman she's with me!

isabella perez i am not missing dulce! i told tio checo where i was going

logan sargeant oh it must be nice to not get ditched by your friends. i wouldn't know BECAUSE OSCAR'S A TRAITOR!

oscar piastri how exactly is it my fault that thing 1 and thing 2 showed up at my hotel room at 6:30 in the morning and dragged me out to breakfast?

ollie bearman you're lucky it was 6:30 isa dragged me out of bed at 6. isabella perez WE LITERALLY MADE PLANS THE NIGHT BEFORE OLIVER!

fernando alonso i was unaware isabella and oscar had acquired a grid child

oscar piastri bella has a grid child not me. i don't want him ollie bearman you're a horrible father. ollie bearman i hope you dnf in monaco oscar piastri i'm not your dad! ollie bearman good. i wouldn’t want you as my father. you’re horrible and you suck! isabella perez oh great, now you've made him sad oscar!

oscarpiastri, isabellaperez, and olliebearman posted new stories

i'm going to die with her behind the wheel. that smile is plotting murder. what is it with drivers and showing up in team gear to everything? they will also sleep anywhere, as shown by ollie. i feel like i'm interrupting something.

alex albon did you or did you not go out on a date with oscar?

isabella perez no, i did not go out on a date with oscar.

george russell i call bullshit! i saw ollie’s story! esteban ocon i agree.

charles leclerc wasn’t she out with oscar and ollie? how is that a date?

pierre gasly aww a family date! isabella perez i’m going to murder you gasly

natalia ruiz boys, leave her alone.

isabella perez it wasn’t a date! ollie was there!

alex albon which means if ollie wasn’t there it totally would’ve been a date

lewis hamilton when will the day come where all of you learn to mind your own business?

pierre gasly pretty much never

mae jones isa, it was a fucking date if i’ve ever seen one. trust me on this one.

isabella perez yes, i'll take advice from the people who had a fwb relationship, a situationship, and someone who broke up with her ex because she was afraid.

isabella perez really the only one's who should be giving me advice are esteban, george, alex, and lewis.

pierre gasly you're mean sometimes.

mae jones and for the record i wasn't afraid!

alex albon explain things i wish you said? charles leclerc or you're losing me? esteban ocon or exile? mae jones OKAY I GET IT!

sooo, how'd the date go?

it wasn't a date logan.

oh sure and ollie wasn't third wheeling the two of you.

he wasn't?

MY BROTHER IN CHRIST HAVE YOU SEEN HIS STORY?? YOU ARE IN L-O-V-E!!

how can i be in love?? i barely know her

okay, fine, you have a crush on her.

no, i don't.

yes, you do. i know you pastry!

you don't know shit. i don't have a crush on her.

oscar, either i'm fucking blind or you're stupid but you, my australian friend, have a massive crush on her.

fuck off

no, i don't

sure buddy, and i'm not from miami

but you are?

exactly my point.

logan sargeant he's got the l-word

lando norris leprosy??

daniel jones-ricciardo how the fuck did your mind go to leprosy?

lando norris bailey and i watched ice age last night.

bailey winters max, you're performance in that movie was amazing

max verstappen i will take lando out.

pierre gasly the way his season's going he'll take himself out first. lando norris literally fuck you gasly. i know you and esteban are going to take each other out at least once this season.

logan sargeant OSCAR'S IN LOVE!!

arthur leclerc WITH WHO?? logan sargeant i cannot believe that sentence just came out of your brain.

dulce perez my sister i assume??

logan sargeant well, it's more like a crush but that counts right??

daphne jones-ricciardo and you came to this conclusion how?

logan sargeant denial is always the first sign, no?

carlos sainz it is like lando when he said he wasn't in love with bailey! lando norris we are not talking about me.

isabellaperez posted a new story

paddock dad isabella, are you okay?

super max are you depressed? honey badger did austin call again?

duckling i'm okay. i think.

duckling i'm feeling things. i don't know if they're good or bad.

paddock dad therapy helps. duckling so i've heard.

super max good things or bad things?

duckling I DON'T KNOW!!

duckling feels are hard. i don't want them anymore.

paddock dad sorry kid, you're stuck with them forever. duckling SEB! MAKE THEM GO AWAY!! paddock dad i can't isa. you have to face them.

duckling here's a thought, what if i don't? i could ignore them, they'll go away eventually.

super max you've already tried that isa. it's not working out that great for you.

honey badger already tried that kiddo. maybe it's time to talk to someone?

duckling i'll call my mom!

paddock dad that's better than one of us.

isabellaperez posted new stories

my mother won't answer the phone, who's more important than me?? her baby?? her pride and joy??

nothing like a good ole lana song to cry too.

taglist: @burningcupcakefire @arkhammaid @sunflower-golden-vol6 @applopie @lorarri @mypage-myfandoms @bb-swift @thewannabewriter @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @cowboylikemets1989 @justtprachisblog @rmeddar123 @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @Mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @prongsvault @kaa212 @anxxiousaries @julesbabey1 @julesbabey @georgeparisole @Smnthnclj @dan3avocado @melissayalene @nothanqks @nikfigueiredo @bella-1 @namgification @jensonsonlybutton @chezmardybum @d3kstar @weekendlusting @anytimeanywherebitchblog @ragioniera @burberryfilms @trouble-sistar @lesliiieeeee @leclercsluv @33-81 @theseus-jpg @lorenaskaspersen @sarah-thatstings-ann @My-fangirling-outlet

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¡leclerc-s speaks! OLLIE IN F1!! LET'S GOO!! i also couldn't help myself including that ice age joke. does this qualify as angst?? i don't think so? this has also been sitting in my drafts for ages.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[constellationguy]

Another perspective

Halloween Special

"Text: regular talking

'Text': regular thinking

"Text": Saiki talking telepathically

'Text': Saiki thinking

Summary: Class 3 puts on a Halloween play, an adaptation of the Corpse Bride.

ATTENTION! You might want to read the last few episodes of Another Perspective to fully understand the characters and/or rewatch the movie Corpse Bride before reading to fully understand the events.

Red: Y/N’s mother

Orange: Y/N’s father + lord Barkus

Green: Saiki’s father + singing skeleton

Blue: Kokomi + kokomi’s mother

Purple: Y/N

Pink: Saiki

Another Perspective Halloween Special:

The Corpse Groom

Act one begins in a gray, poor ish looking town.

“Here ye here ye! Ten minutes until the L/N wedding rehearsal!”

“It’s a beautiful day!” “It’s a rather nice day.” “A day for a glorious wedding.”

“A rehearsal my dear, to be perfectly clear.” “A rehearsal for a glorious wedding.”

“Assuming nothing happens that we don’t really know.” “That nothing unexpected interferes with the show.”

“And that’s why everything, every last little thing, every single tiny little microscopic thing little thing must go, according to plan!”

“Our child will be married.” “According to plan.” “Our family carried.”

“Will be brought to the heights of society.”

“To the costume balls,” “in the hallowed halls” “rubbing elbows with the finest.” “Having crumpets with her highness.”

“We’ll be there, we’ll be seen having tea with the queen. We’ll forget everything, that we’ve ever ever been.”

“Where’s Y/N? We might be late.”

The L/N’s leave the stage and the Teruhashi’s walk on.

“It’s a terrible day.” “Now don’t be that way.”

“It’s a terrible day for a wedding.” “It’s a sad sad state of affairs we’re in.” “That had lead to this ominous wedding.”

“How could our family have come to this?”

“To marry off our daughter to the newly rich.”

“They’re so common” “so crass,” “it couldn’t be worse.” “It’s couldn’t be worse? I’m afraid I disagree. They would be penniless without a coin to their name, just like you and me.”

“Oh dear.”

“So that why everything. Every last little thing, every single tiny microscopic little thing must go, according to plan.” “Our daughter we’ll wed.”

“According to plan.” “Our family lead.” “From the depths of dearest poverty. To the noble of our ancestry.” “And who would have guessed in a million years that our daughter would provide our ticket to our rightful place?”

The parents walk off stage and the scene is now set farther in the desolate mansion, where Kokomi was getting dress for the wedding.

“What if Y/N and I don’t like each other?” Kokomi asked.

“Ha! As if that has anything to do with marriage. Do you suppose your father and I like each other? ” Her mother responded.

“Surely you must! A little.”

“Of course not,” the both rebutted.

“Get those corsets laced properly. I can hear you speak without gasping.” Ms Teruhashi said dismissively then everyone walked off stage.

Y/N just finished getting ready and ran into the carriage that would take them to the Teruhashi manor.

“We certainly hope to win her this time Y/N.” “Now all you have to do is reel her in.”

“I’m already reeling mother. Shouldn’t Teruhashi Kokomi be marrying… a lord or something?” Y/N responded plainly.

“Oh nonsense. We’re every bit as good as the Teruhashi’s. I always knew I deserved better than a fish merchant’s life.”

“But, I’ve never even spoken to her.” “Well at least we have that in our favor!”

Going back to the Teruhashi family.

“Marriage is a partnership. A little tit for tat. You think a life time watching us, would have taught her that.” “Everything must be perfect.”

“That’s why everything. Every last little thing, every single tiny microscopic little thing must go, according to plan.” Both sets of parents said.

As the door open to the Teruhashi manor Y/N mother was fussing over them.

“Oh! Oh such gradure! Such impeccable taste. Beautiful innit.” “It’s not as big as our place dear. But shabby it is, isn’t it” “Shut up!”

“Lord and lady Teruhashi, Mr and Ms L/N.”

“Why you must be Ms Victoria. I must say, you don’t look a day over 20.”

“Smile darling smile,” the lord found it hard to do so.

“Well hello, what a pleasure, welcome to our home.”

“We’ll be taking tea in the west drawing room, do come with us.” Both sets of parents set off, leaving Y/N alone in the foyer. However they found a piano, it was in-tune so they decided to play it.

The music was somber but powerful, it flooded the manor and even reach Teruhashi’s doors. Hearing the piano played made her run out of her room to meet the player, but she ended up spooking Y/N.

“Oh do forgive me.” “You play beautifully.” Teruhashi said with a smile.

“Excuse me for the playing, and the mess,” Y/N said awkwardly as they picked up the piano stool that they had knocked over.

“If I may ask, Teruhashi, where is your chaperone?” “In view of the circumstances you could call Kokomi. As tomorrow we are to be married.” “Yes.” Y/N like they had forgotten that fact.

“Since I was a child I’ve dreamt of my wedding day. I always hoped to find someone I was deeply in love with. Silly isn’t it.”

“Silly? No. To our parents? Perhaps. But to me? No. Wanting love isn’t as silly as our parents make it out to be.” Y/N said with charm.

“What sort of impropriety is this?! You shouldn’t be alone together. Here it is, one minute before 5:00 and you’re not at the rehearsal. The pastor is waiting, come at once.” Ms Teruhashi was clearly outraged, shooing everyone off stage as the curtains came down.

There was a small break where the curtains closed as the chapel scene was set for act two.

—————————————————————————

“Again! From the beginning. With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty for I will be your wine. With this candle I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine. Let’s try it again.” Said the pastor.

“Yes. Yes sir. With! This candle.” The candle did not light when Y/N put to the flames. “With this candle.” Y/N repeated, again it did not light. “This candle,” Y/N said dejected. Y/N tried multiple times to get the candle to light, but it didn’t work. Once it did light Y/N restarted the phrase.

“With this candle!” When Y/N laughed dryly to ease themself the candle blew out. Causing both sets of parents to groan. “Continue!” The pastor said, suddenly the door bell rang and a butler was sent to get it.

“Let’s just pick it up at the candle bit.” Said the pastor. “A lord Barkus sir,” “I haven’t a head for dates, apparently I’m a day early for the ceremony.” Said this supposed lord Barkus.

“Is he from your side of the family?” “I can’t recall, Emil. A seat for lord Barkus.” “Do carry on.”

“Let’s try it again. Shall we Mx L/N” “Yes sir, certainly” They said quietly Teruhashi lit their candle for them.

“Right.” The pastor said with annoyance. “Right. Oh! Right!” Y/N once held the candle in their left hand quickly and cartoonishly put it in their right hand. “With this… this.” “Hand.” “With this hand.” Y/N then hit the table by accident.

“Three steps! Three! Can you not count?” The pastor yelled. “Do you not wish to be married Mx Y/N?” “No! No.” “You do not?” Teruhashi asked.

“No, no. I meant I do not not wish to be married. Which is that I want very much to- Ow!” The pastor hit Y/N with his cane. “Pay attention! Have you even remembered to bring the ring?”

“The ring? Yes of course.” Y/N produced the ring from their breast pocket but it fell from their hand. “Dropping the ring?! This child does not want to get married!” Y/N ran after the ring and grabbed it however Ms Teruhashi’s dress was set on fire by Y/N’s candle. Luckily lord Barkus put out the flame with his drink.

“Enough! This wedding will not take place until this child is properly prepared! Child! Learn. Your. Vows.” The pastor said sternly towards Y/N, with much fear Y/N existed the stage.

“He’s quite the catch, isn’t he.” Said lord Barkus.

—————————————————————————

The curtain closed and shuffling was heard as actor left the stage and the back drop was changed again, to a forest, the setting of act three.

“Oh Teruhashi. She must think I’m such a fool.” Y/N said glumly. “This day couldn’t get any worse.”

“Hear ye hear ye! The rehearsal is ruined because L/N child causes chaos!” Y/N could only sigh and walk away from the voice shouting from off stage.

As Y/N walked slowly the background slowly changed,showing Y/N going deeper into a forest.

“It really shouldn’t be all that difficult. It’s just a few simple vows! With this hand I will take your wine- no!” Y/N sounded tired and frustrated but they continued to walk.

“With … this… with this, with this candle I will-”before they even realized, Y/N walked very far, not even recognizing their surroundings.

“I will, set your mother on fire,” Y/N face palmed. “Oh it’s no use…” Y/N paused for a moment, gathering themself.

“With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine. Ah! Ms Teruhashi. You look ravishing this evening.” Y/N said with confidence, holding a tree branch.

“What’s that Mr Teruhashi? Call you dad? If you insist sir.” Y/N said to another tree.

Y/N broke off a small branch before speaking again with vigor and acting out the motions of the vow. “With this candle, I will light your way in darkness! With this ring! I ask you, to be mine!” Y/N said while placing the ring on a hand like branch.”

The sound of wind and crows that was once idol now blared in the speakers as the branch was now moving. And the noise was blaring as the branch grabbed and tugged Y/N’s arm beneath the stage.

Y/N fought with the hand and managed to break free but a skeletal arm still held theirs. Scared at the sight they threw the arm off stage. The hole where the hand looking branch used to be, opened up and someone sprouted from it.

“I do.” The man from the ground replied. He was dressed in a tattered wedding suit and his skin was painted to look decomposing. Y/N gasped and ran away from the newly animated corpse but the groom chased them into the forest and through the graveyard.

Y/N only stopped momentarily when they ran into a tree. But otherwise Y/N was running for their life, fighting trees and brambles to get away.

Once Y/N got to the bridge and the man was out of sight Y/N started to walk and catch their breath. However when they turned around the dead man was right behind them.

The man approached Y/N and held their shoulders gently as he said, “You may kiss the groom,” when he leaned in the curtains closed, signaling the end of act three.

—————————————————————————

When the curtain opened again a skeleton and the tattered groom surrounded Y/N in what but the sound of the place seemed to be a jazz bar.

“A new arrival.” “They must have fainted. Are you alright?” “What, what happened?”

“By Joe man, looks like we’ve got ourselves a breather!” A skeleton said before he was pushed by a blue corpse woman. “Do they have a dead brother?” “They’re still soft!”

Y/N could only whimper was they got up from their place on the floor.

“A drink! To the newly weds!” “Newly weds?” Y/N wondered allowed.

“Ah! In the woods you said your vows so perfectly,” corpse groom said sweetly. “I did? I did!” Y/N said in awe. “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” Banged their head on the bar table to try and wake themselves from what they thought was a dream.

When Y/N stopped they were terrified and started walking through the crowd of skeletons and various bodies before they finally lost it and tried to pick up a sword but ended up also taking the man who the sword was attached to.

“I’ve got a- a dwarf. And I’m not afraid to use him! I want some questions! Now!” “Answers, I think you mean answers,” the man on the sword said. “Thank you, yes answers. I need answers! What’s going on here? Where am I? Who are you?”

“Well, that’s kind of a long story.” “What a story it is, a tragic tale of romance, passion, and a murder most foul.” “This is going to be good,” the sword man addressed Y/N before they dropped him.

“Hit it boys.” The skeleton that started talking about said story started to hit other skeletons, making them come alive while a skeleton on the piano make the bar alive with music.

“Hey! Give me a listen you corpses of cheer. Least the one that still got an ear, I’ll tell you a story, make a skeleton cry of our own jubilisously lovely corpse groom!” As Y/N looked towards the groom, he seemed rather melancholy.

“Die, die, we all pass away. Don’t be afraid cause it’s really okay. You might try and hide, you might try and pray, but we all end up the remains of the day.” The skeletons danced to the chorus their bones adding another level of sound to the music.

“Well! Your boy was a beauty, known for miles around, till a mysterious stranger came into town. He was plenty good looken but down on his cash, and our poor little baby, he fell hard fast.” The skeleton dipped himself into the groom’s arms as he told the story to Y/N.

“When his daddy said no! He just couldn’t cope, so our lovers came up with the plan to elope.”

“Die, die, we all pass away. But don’t be afraid cause it’s really okay. You might try and hide, you might try and pray but we all end up the remains of the day!” By the time the chorus came around the bar patrons came to dance with Y/N.

Instead of going straight back into the story the group of skeletons played some heavy jazz and showed off their skills.

“Ya! So the conjured up a plan to meet late at night. They told not a soul, kept the whole thing tight. Now his father’s suit fit like a glove, you don’t need much when you’re really in love. Except for a few things, or so I’m told, but the family jewels and a satchel of gold. Then next to the grave yard by the old oak tree, on a dark foggy night at a quarter to three. He was ready to go! But where was he?”

“And then?” The crowd asked. “He waited.” “And then?” “There in the shadows, was it the man?” “The man?”

“His little heart beat so loud!” “And then?” “And then baby. Everything went black.”

“Now when he opened his eyes. He was dead as dust. He’s jewels were missing and his heart was bust. So he made a vow lying under that tree, that’s he’d wait for his true love to come set him free. Oh he’s waiting for someone to go and his hand.” The groom then takes Y/N’s hand and they spin to the music

“When out of the blue comes this groovy young sport, who vows forever to be by his side! And that’s the story of our own, corpse, groom!”

As the song ends and the crowd cheers Y/N runs up the stairs and makes it out of the bar, and when the door shuts so does the curtain.

—————————————————————————

Act five starts on the streets of a more blue than gray town, where the corpse groom was searching for Y/N.

“Y/N, darling where are you?” “If you ask me, your partner is kinda jumpy,” a voice sounded from the speakers. “They’re not just my partner, they’re my spouse.” The groom told the voice.

“Y/N? Where’ve you gone?” “I’ll keep any eye out for him” said the maggot in the groom’s eye socket. Little did they know Y/N was watching from behind a statue.

“Y/N?” “There they are, there they are! They’re getting away, quick quick!” As the voice sounded from the speakers Y/N ran off again.

“Y/N?” The groom paused for a moment so the arms in barrels pointed in the direction Y/N went, “thank you.”

“Y/N, where are you?” Y/N knew their groom was close behind so they played dead in coffin as he passed by. “Married huh? I’m a widow.” A spider said, hanging from the top of the coffin.

“He went that way!” The spider said as Y/N ran off in the direction they came from.

“Y/N, Y/N darling.”

“Please! There’s been a mistake!” Y/N said while grabbing the shoulders of a pedestrian. “I’m not dead!” After their head fell off, Y/N ran away from the now headless man, trying to get as far away from the shouting of their name as possible.

“Dead end.” In their hysteria, Y/N started to climb the wall. However when they reached the top they grabbed onto their groom, who appeared out of no where.

“You could have used the stairs silly.” The groom said as they pulled up Y/N. “Isn’t the view beautiful? It just takes my breath away. Well it would if I had any. Isn’t it romantic?” Saiki asked as he sat down on a near by bench. Y/N defeatedly sat done next to him.

“Look. I am terribly sorry about what’s happened to you, and I’d like to help. But I really need to get home.”

“This is your home now.” “But I don’t even know your name.” “It’s Kusuo.”

“Kusuo.” Y/N said, letting his name roll off their tongue.

“I’ve almost forgot, I have something for you!” Saiki said, grabbing a box from beside him. “It’s a wedding present.” He whispered.

Y/N lightly shook the box before opening it. When they did they gasped at the sight of bones. And turn fearful when the box started to shake and it jumped from their lap. Before their eyes Y/N watched as the pile of bones turned into a dog skeleton, it barked, then pranced back to Y/N giving them its collar.

“Scraps?” Y/N asked, the dog barked in response.

“Scraps! My dog Scraps!” Y/N said lovingly and the dog jumped onto their lap. “Oh Scraps, what a good boy!”

“I knew you’d be happy to see him,” Kusuo said dreamily. “He’s so cute.” “You should have seen him with fur.”

“Mother never approved of scraps jumping up like this.” Y/N commented. “But then again, she never approved of anything.” “You think she would have approved of me?” “Ha, you’re lucky you’ll never have to meet her.”

“I wish I could,” Saiki said a little sad. “Well, you will one day right?” Y/N laughed humorously.

“I suppose so, well, let’s get you introduced to everyone. I’m sure that will help you settle in here.” “Are your parents around here? If you can’t meet mine yet, I might as well meet yours.”

“I think I’d like that,” Kusuo said, taking Y/N’s arm and walked off stage, Scraps following close behind. The audience clapped and the play was over.

————————————————————————-

“What did you think of the play Kusuo?”

“I still don’t understand why I played Emily. I don’t think our personalities match at all.”

“Well I don’t think Teruhashi or Hairo would let to get away without trying out for a part. It was just pure dumb luck you played the corpse groom. I was mainly asking about the story though. What did you think of it?”

“I wish we had time to play out the full movie.”

“Me too but I don’t like the idea of the real ending, I’d have to give up my life with you to marry Teruhashi. I think I like this implied ending, a bit better,” Y/N smiled. Saiki returned a small smile.

—————————————————————————

Happy Halloween! Hope you liked it!

[agentnatesewell]

One thought that's been rattling in my brain for awhile, what if Rebecca was the one to tell Rook about the supernatural world & the agency?

I mean she would obviously of known about it longer than he did to rise to the rank of being a chamber member. Maybe she didn't want to keep the secret any longer, maybe she thought everything would be fine. So Rook, as the town's detective, takes on the liason position and things are ok for a little while. He loves the supernatural and nothing to dangerous happens.

Then he dies protecting some and she's left wondering if it's her fault. That of she'd never told him then he'd still be alive.

Certainly not excusing her absence from detective's life but depending on how accurate my theory is it would certainly explain some things. If that's what happened before then it'd make even more sense for her to want her child as far away from it as possible.

Hello, hello, friend!! This is an excellent thought, and I absolutely see this. Rebecca having such remorse by allowing Rook into her world and him losing his life because of it. We’ve seen that’s her plan, keep her only child ignorant and hope that the supernatural doesn’t find them —

And now that I think about it, Rebecca may have thought her child was safe from the supernatural world and those who may have more nefarious motivations. For one, she’s protected them from afar with the agency (I think? Certainly took her time with Murphy on the loose), for two, she may have thought the mc’s immunity from pheromones as something protective, and for three, well, taking a job in Wayhaven really isn’t anything all that glamorous and she’s familiar with the town… so similar thinking to where she may have been with Rook

I did some reading on what we know about Rook - Rook was a human liaison (for Wayhaven?) when he met Rebecca. They worked on a mission together. He fell, she fell, and they married and had a child. Now, I think Rook stayed the human liaison (though the Agency had big plans for him), and Rebecca climbed ranks to Chamber member

To your point, though! I really think that Rebecca was indirectly tied/responsible to what happened with Rook that led to his death. She knew more than him, had all the security clearance, and maybe she over/underestimated something and that led to his death (the latest thing we know is that it may have involved trappers) — and with THAT

I am definitely on board with what you’re saying! The guilt compounding and confounding the loss of her husband. The need to protect and from afar

Thank you so much for this message! I love your theory and your thoughts! It’s always super fun to pit Rebecca under the microscope

[philosophicalconservatism]

Response To Post On Socialism/Marxism

maersung

Except for the fact that Karl Marx never once said that capitalism was an abysmal system; he actually praised capitalism and stated that it was the most productive system the world had ever seen:

i.e. you’re right, in a way. “The very standard which they judge their position was created by the system they condemn.” However, are socialists expected to abandon society to have a foundation to stand on? If we abandon society, we are accused of “not understanding capitalism” and thus the world, and if we do not abandon society, we are as you say “spoiled children railing against conditions in their parents house”. So what is it? Are we allowed to point out criticisms of the world we live in? Or should we all turn a blind eye to the suffering of millions and be content with the privilege we have?

Philosophicalconservatism

First of all I'd like to thank you for actually engaging with the ideas and argument expressed in the post instead of merely taking offense at the analogy.

Marx certainly did not praise Capitalism, he did concede certain facts. But what we have seen in free societies is not merely an increase in “productive capacity “ as Marx is willing to concede, what we have seen is a dramatic increase in the quality of life of the common man. We have seen a historically unprecedented decline in general human suffering which you cite as your great concern here. There is a significant difference between the generic desire to improve the world through criticism, which we must all feel (and which is incidentally also a part of the Free Enterprise system itself) and the very particular act of petitioning to replace a system that has been the most beneficial in history with one that is at best simply unproven, and at worst one of the more destructive systems ever adopted.

This brings us to my general criticism of radical politics. I have argued before that if radicals (of all kinds) were as rigorous in their criticism of their proposed alternatives as they are in their criticism of the existing system they would be much less certain, and as a consequence, much less radical. The American philosopher Sydney Hook articulated the mentality of the radical Socialist that he had once been like this:

"I was guilty of judging capitalism by its operations and socialism by its hopes and aspirations; capitalism by its works and socialism by its literature. To this day, this error and its disastrous consequences are observable in the judgment and behavior or some impassioned individuals, mostly young."

This type of double standard is a part of the essential nature of radicalism. It is the necessary condition for its (non-empirically grounded) militant certainty. Figuratively it observes one idea through a telescope and the other under a microscope. The spoiled child that perceives the parents who are responsible for everything that he has as his biggest problem in life (because they won't give him more) is not simply looking for "improvement". People who merely seek improvement will exhibit gratitude and appreciation for what they currently have. Their perception of reality is a grounded one. But ingratitude is a blinding force. It literally obscures one's perception of the world. It motivates one to find endless flaws within what one already has, but perfect salvation within any thoroughly vague, half fleshed out alternative as long as it is in fact an alternative.

This is not a clear practical perception of the superiority of another model, it is an emotional contempt for what one already has. The spoiled child believes that if he can just be rid of his parents everything will be wonderful. The specific details of what will actually replace them can be dealt with later. Marx himself (in The Germany Ideology) admits that his writing does not in fact embody an alternative model, merely a critique of the existing order. But he expects that through some dialectical magic the alternative will eventually just emerge; the same as our young child does.

. .

[formerly-windblume]

For more TWST Shenanigans please consider joining the Discord Server!

Summary: After what happened at STYX, Epel was extremely traumatized and never wanted to part from Vil’s side for as long as possible… he did not want to lose Vil. The sight of seeing Vil all old and wrinkled, brittle and worn by age was enough to send him into panic- he’s seen many elderly in his hometown pass away but the images of elderly Vil fresh in his mind just made everything worse…

TW: Mentions of D3@th/Dy1ng and mega angst

If you were looking for Emotional Damage this is the place! Abandon hope all ye who read this! Ye have been warned beforehand of angst and pain!

Epel Felmier and Vil Schoenheit: Don’t Leave Me All Alone…

Rain pelted the windows of the Pomefiore dorm, thunder rattled the walls and lightning lit the dark hallways and bedrooms that cold February night. It was truly a rough storm and the howling wind whistling a ghostly tune made it no better for Epel as he shuddered under his blankets. The thunder roared again and he clutched his poison apple plush tighter, truthfully, he was not frightened of storms but the events at STYX was enough to send him into panic.

CRASH! BOOM!

The thunder roared again, releasing yet another wave of ferocity. With every roar of thunder came the memories of the titans… of Vil…

‘No… No, Vil is alive, Vil is fine… gotta stop being a scaredy-cat! Man up, Epel! Man up, damnit!’

Nightmares of the horrors that fateful day flooded his mind, images of Vil falling into the Underworld to save Idia still were fresh in his memory, haunting him with the thought of losing Vil. Tears pricked his baby blue eyes as he hid his face in his pillow, oh how he despised this weakness… but he supposed it was only right considering how the event’s traumatized him so dramatically.

CRASH!! BOOM!!

The thunder roared once more, causing Epel to jump slightly at the sound. Sevens above how he hated feeling so weak…

Epel huffed, sitting up in bed and grabbing his pillow and apple plush, making his way quietly out of the room and straight to Vil’s room. He knew Vil was likely already in bed but he just had to see him, he needed to know Vil was alive still. His dreams of Vil all old and wrinkled dying before his eyes shattered his heart into microscopic fragments, the images of the dream were too real for him, it was too much. Outside Vil’s door he could see the dim glow of lamp light from under the door, Vil was likely still awake if the lamp was on. Epel took a deep, shuddering breath and knocked on the door, trying his hardest not to break down like a small child.

“Hm? Epel? Whatever are you doing up at this hour? Eye bags, my dear, eye bag- Epel…? Oh Epel what’s the matter?” Vil knelt down to Epel’s height, brushing his gentle, soft hands across they younger’s face. “Come on in, potato, tell me what’s the matter.”

Epel walked in slowly, nodding his head and sitting next to his Housewarden on the bed, staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. “V-Vil… I-I was just scared you were gone… that you left us for good… that the Underworld took you… *sniffle* I’m sorry… I know this is childish an’ stupid…”

‘Stupid! Damnit! Cryin’ like a lil kid in fronta Vil again… I’m gonna get a scoldin’ of a lifetime for the eyebags…’

Vil gasped, pulling Epel into a tight hug, petting his hair gently, swaying softly in an attempt of comfort. He had no idea Epel was so frightened, he had figured something was wrong when Epel refused to leave his side almost all afternoon during their Friday night cleaning session and this afternoon during lunch break but to see this side of Epel was entirely new. He was nothing more than a frightened little boy who had nearly lost someone he cared about deep down even if he did not want to admit it.

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, just keep your head on my heart, see? It’s still beating, I’m still here, little apple. I’m still here…” Vil whispered soothingly, almost in a motherly manner as his slender fingers combed through the soft, violet locks.

‘No, Vil, you left us behind in my dream… you died… you died from old age too soon…’

“I-I’ve seen buncha old folks b-back home go an’ all but… but seein’ you get old an’ leavin’ us…” Epel could not finish that sentence, the words felt so rough on his tongue. The pain in his heart was excruciating and all he could do was wail into Vil’s chest like a child.

‘Sevens above, please don’t take Vil from us… please…’

Vil gently shushed the crying boy, whispering words of comfort as his tears flowed from his eyes. The feeling was the only calm Epel felt against the raging storm of emotions. The Pomefiore Housewarden knew that Epel always tried his hardest to keep a brave face, a defiant attitude, and a tough guy persona but Vil and Rook knew deep down Epel was a gentle soul who cared deeply for others even if he never showed it openly.

“Epel, how about you spend the night here with me, hm? That way you will know I will not leave you.” Vil smiled softly as the younger looked into his eyes as if questioning his suggestion. “I promise, I will not leave your side, you will be safe in here with me. No storm, titan, or Overblot monster will come in here.”

BOOM! CRASH!!

The first year gasped at the sudden clap of thunder, clinging to his Housewarden as if he were a baby koala. He nodded his head in agreement to Vil’s suggestion, eventually looking up at Vil worriedly before releasing his hold.

“S-sorry… dunno why the stupid storm is making me like this… I’m not usually all a scaredy-cat.”

“It can’t be helped, potato, to be completely honest with you, I too have had a difficult time with the storm…” Vil sighed and shrugged. “Truthfully, it reminds me of what happened at STYX, the titans and all those escaped monsters… and the fear of losing you and Rook.”

‘I-I had no idea Vil felt this way… I thought he was gonna say losing his good looks or somethin’ like that. Huh…’

“What? I know that look, potato- you have something snarky on the mind, spill it.”

“Ack- um- uh… n-no I’m good, Vil! Heh… heh…”

“One… Two… do not make me say three, potato.”

‘Great, he’s gone mama mode… no escapin’ this one…’

“Aight, I was gonna say just thought you were gonna say something ‘bout losing your good looks…”

Vil laughed, genuinely laughed at Epel’s remark. Ruffling his first year’s hair, he pulled him back into a hug. “You cheeky little apple, what am I to do with you?”

“Send me to Savanaclaw, maybe?”

“Not happening. You are staying with me, spudling.”

‘Damnit, guess I’m stuck with Vil- although, guess it ain’t a bad idea… heh- life does work in weird ways, huh?’

“Alright, potato, bedtime. It’s well past both of our bedtimes but sleeping in tomorrow as it is the weekend would not hurt, fufufufu~” Vil lifted the covers for Epel to climb under, like a mother he tucked him in and gently petted his head. Vil too tucked himself into bed and pulled the younger close to his frame, running his gentle, slim fingers through his hair and humming a soft lullaby.

Epel slowly but surely drifted off to sleep, the sweet humming of Vil’s lullaby and his heartbeat that was very much alive soothed his mind and guided him to slumber.

“Gnight… mum…” Epel mumbled sleepily, snuggling closer to Vil like a kitten.

“Goodnight, my littlest apple. May no nightmares touch your dreams tonight while I’m here.”

[spaydekingcayde]

woah I was tagged in a mutual game by @kroganloveinterest !! I am tagging my evil husband @meat-pvppet in this as well as my good friends @sovenderegn and @plagueprince and anyone else who’d like to do this.

What is the origin of your blog title?

Danse macabre — a French phrase meaning “Dance of Death,” is an art trope originating during the late medieval period that seeks to reminds us of the universal nature of death. The header I have to match is an example of such a piece — from 1493, by Michael Wolgemut (pictured below). It’s also a composition trope, as in Camille Saint-Saens’ composition that was also covered by the oh hellos in dear wormwood.

Favorite fandoms?

none I hate all you bitches (joke)

in all seriousness I’ve liked what the destiny community is, but I don’t really fully engage with any other fandom outside of it because I’m a narrow interests autistic lmao.

OTP(s) + ship name?

Unironically, Nebula + Cayde. Yes I know it’s oc/canon, idgaf gargle my nuts lol. nebbycayde is what I call them, and they’re the sole reason why I carrion icarian by Hozier was my number 1 Spotify wrapped song for 2024.

I’m also very very fond of their polycule, but there’s too many of them to condense into one ship name lmao.

Favourite color?

not purple (it’s purple)

Favourite game?

destiny (I have not seen the sun in weeks) (I also like sea of thieves)

Song stuck in your head?

…I’ve never had anything quite like a moose. (Primarily because my group was singing it tonight)

Weirdest habit or trait?

Not too sure? I do skin pick and bite my nails but that isn’t really “weird,” because a lot of people do it. I make a lot of clicking noises but that depends on if you consider vocal stims a weird autism trait.

Hobbies

Ploughing yer mum.

In all seriousness I enjoy writing and researching and picking up very specific knowledge about things, as well as re-enactment and the community stuff that comes with it.

If you work, what is your profession?

I have a major in Jack with a career in Shit (I do Nothing)

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?

Astronaut! launch me up there.

But also a medieval scholar and general medieval history nut.

Something you’re good at?

getting bitches

In all seriousness I’m not too sure!

Something you’re bad at?

socialization

Something you excel at?

Slowly but surely procuring information about things and spewing them back to people, and I’m also Very literate I love reading and writing and comprehending literature

Something you love?

my husband : 3 and also my friends and my family

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff?

Destiny lore! But also Viking stuff and medieval history!

Something you hate?

insert obligatory edgy “myself” response. but the hatred I feel for myself is microscopic and nonexistent in the face of my hatred for cooked egg whites and their texture.

Something you collect?

Rocks, bones, pelts, all variants of trinkets and plushies!

Something you forget?

everything. every fucking thing

What’s your love language?

Food, physical touch, mutual infodumping, showing people things!

Favourite movie/show?

Unironically Nosferatu (2024) is really good, it’s the one I remember seeing most recently. I love Robert eggers

Favourite food?

Varies! but I like sushi, especially grilled eel.

Favorite animal?

Big list! But I’ve been particularly fond of coyotes as of late.

Are you musical?

No, I wish I was. I hope to change it though! I used to sing before I started T but it’s changed my voice so I’m hesitant now.

What were you like as a child?

don’t remember was probably annoying

Favorite subject in school?

English and literacy!

Least favourite subject?

math. I have a learning disability and was abused for it by my teachers

What’s your best character trait?

bitches love my autism swag

What’s your worst character trait?

I dunno. not that I’m perfect or anything but because if I think of one (1) of my flaws I will go on a terrible doom spiral and spend the rest of the night feeling like I’m the worst person on the planet.

If you could change any outcome of your day what would it be?

Nothing really! I just wish I wasn’t so tired at Yule today.

If you could travel in time who would you meet?

I would like to explore the medieval period! I also want to fight Saxo Grammaticus and also stand before Dante Alighieri in my cunty Dante getup (booty shorts with abandon all hope ye who enter here in glitter, tank top with no. 1 Virgil fan on it. Laurel wreath, stripper heels with “DANTE” on the fronts in glitter) just to watch that Italian disintegrate. and also because I would convince him to sign my copy of the divine comedy like meeting an author at a celebrity book meet

Recommend one of your favourite fics!

my own (they don’t exist 100% yet)

[mywitchcultblr]

you told loli anon you don't defend or care about loli but literally a few posts before, you rbed a post that says people who are against pedo kinks on twitter just hate women. The person literally said "what do you think about this? (pedo, incest, rape)" and you rbed that post in agreement that people against pedo shit just hate women. That's probably the kind of thing anon was talking about and it's not the only time you've defended it.

You mean this? Tbh the anon seems a bit sus because they seems to be wording their ask in a generalized manner about woman and dark media. I mean not all dark media enjoyer are into certain things

I dont know man, but its true that people are often putting women on BLAST over the media they consume hence why I said those people are misogynistic. But the optics in this conversation is easily diverted towards "you support pedo" while the main issue that is being talked about is how fandom and society always put women under microscope over their media consumption (and everything)

Remember twilight hysteria?

and most of the time when fandom talk about 'pedo shit' its about things that cannot be legally labelled as child sexual abuse content that actually harming IRL people. Sesshomaru x Rin? Even tho Sesshomaru never touched Rin when she was underage? People scream its pedo. An SFW fan art of an aged up Anya from Spy X Spy? People call it pedo. NSFW art of an ADULT Azula? Pedo.

Shipping Zhongli with Hu Tao? Pedo. Your mom? P word

You can be uncomfortable with something like 14 years old Keith shipped with an adult Shiro from Voltron but refuse to waste your time fighting over it. I'm not into loli but why would I waste my time fighting lolicon online??? Unless those people are legit harming IRL children I'm just gonna filter the content

I have spoken against Terminator art that is using the likeness of an underage actor for nsfw/shipping fan art, I forgot whatever I post it to tumblr or not but its on twitter

I have also spoken against RPF that involving IRL childern/teens

I have seen so many bs online over it and so many false accusation towards innocent people, at this point unless someone is legit preying on irl children, or saving and consuming content that can be legally labelled as child abuse material I refuse to give a damn

I have reached "callout fatigue" point

People can read their incest noncon step sibling fanfic and do whatever so long they are not actually supporting it or legit abusing IRL people and support the abuse of IRL people.

[hardlightvoid]

“No,” you say.

Naturally, there are no atoms to carry the sound waves. Nor is there a language for you to speak anymore. There is also no point in denial. You say it anyway, “No,” with the same denial as one of those people facing down the inevitable. Sometimes it is important to say these things. You want your refusal registered.

The whisper had stopped when you made your complaint. Now it starts up again, a wordless collection of breathless noises, an unhalting susurrus that worms its way through to you.

“No,” you repeat. “No, I did my part. It ended. The universe burned out, the last cell died. It’s finished.” You had expected - what? Oblivion, perhaps? Whatever Death is allowed. You are standing in what might as well be a room. The sound comes from the other side of what might as well be a door. Behind it is an emptiness too great to be grasped, a colourless void where the last of the stars have burned out. You had closed the door on it and felt an overwhelming relief.

It whispers. Maybe it’s what will kill you, although admittedly you don’t understand how that can work. You place what might be a hand on the thing that is not a door and say, firmly but not unkindly, “It’s finished. Go home.”

It whispers. There are no words, but your head is beginning to hurt. The first light you have seen in millennium flashes behind your eyes. White, the incalculable white that spills yellow, orange, red, purple-

“No,” you say. “It’s done.”

“What’s done?” The whisper is audible. “What’s finished that can’t be un-finished? You think entropy cares for your exhaustion? It will begin again. That is life.”

You lean your forehead on the door. You are so tired that it hurts to blink. What can’t be undone? You leant over the dying Egyptian as he hissed his last venerations to Osiris. You gathered up the astronauts that became stardust in their failed rocketships. You took the last child that was ever to be born in the universe, limbs twisted from radiation-poisoning in the womb, lungs that heaved feebly for all of twenty minutes before it succumbed to the toxins in the air.

You took other things too. Creatures of starlight that spoke in colours. Microscopic animals that moved in frozen oceans. Anything that lived has moved on and now it is telling you, from the dead universe, that it all can be resurrected.

You say, “I cannot do it all again.”

“Nevertheless, it will be done.”

“Do I at least forget it?”

It whispers. It whispers, “No,” back to you in your own rasping voice. Then, “It is about to start. Come. See the start.”

You have never seen it start before. You only came into existence with the first living thing. “Is it beautiful?”

“It is life.”

Your mouth twitches into the ghost of a smile. Yes. You have seen so many humans reach this point of total exhaustion. You reached for their shoulder. But they shook you off, stood up again, and reached for the placard or flag. And then they became something beautiful.

You open the door, and you become something beautiful.

You are Death. The last living thing has died. You've put the chairs on the tables, turned out the lights, and locked the universe behind you. Something whispers from behind the door.

[lesewut]

Guilt and guilt consciousness - The righteous always accuses himself first

It is difficult to compare oneself with others, to find criteria for a yardstick and to use these as a guideline according to selected criteria. In the manifold development of man, the course for later development is set in the initial phases of his being. The family, which should give the child its roots and wings, becomes a means of interpreting and coping with life, whether consciously or unconsciously. One does not outgrow childhood, it rather enlarges over time as if it’s seen under a microscope.

Genet, who did not know his biological parents and grew up with foster parents, stole from them at a young age and later explained that he only became a criminal because society had chosen him to be one. This phenomenon is not new, but it can be applied to Genet's biography (before he was recognized by the philosophers), who, as many indications show, chose a life of crime for autonomous reasons.

After all, anything that seems too dangerous as an idea, too unruly for the people's concept of freedom and their intellectual autonomy, is sanctioned and stifled. Be it the ideas of Socrates (he was accused for corrupting the youth, although he wanted to increase the ability to think through dialectics and the principle of questioning), Jesus (charity and forgiveness, in a society in which the talion principle, ius talionis, was seen as necessary retribution) or Bruno (a sad proof of the lacking development in knowledge, when discoveries are considered as blasphemous…) , shook the given structures of order and wanted to help find the truth more deeply. However, by considering their ideas to be crimes, establishing their culpability for their actions and emphasising their danger to society, the subsequent punishment was intended to restore justice.

The perpetrator's guilt as the basis for the imposition of punishment seemed arbitrary; it pursued purposes other than that of being a response to alleged misbehaviour. It often served to uphold political and economic interests.

Further and yet different examples of the phenomenon of society producing the criminal are from the literary world e.g. Edmond Dantés (The Count of Monte Cristo) and Jean Valjean (Les Misérables), whereby Dantés was falsely accused and had to endure as a political prisoner in the dungeons of the castle of If for a crime he never committed (until his legendary escape, and, as a result of his fourteen years of imprisonment, he first sought the criminal logic of retribution) and Jean Valjean, despite his hard work and endeavours, was unable to provide his seven nieces and nephews with a crumb of bread to live on: He stole so that others would not starve and served his sentence in the galleys, but wasn't it already a crime to keep bread in a gilded cage far away from the toiling people?

Genet deliberately broke with morality, not for reasons of hunger or life support, but out of poetic fascination with the life of a criminal. He banished himself from the circle of the so-called righteous, his sympathy was with crime and criminals, he downright loved them, but he also loved the punishment that came with a criminal offence, as he himself emphasises:

"But if I love their crimes, it is for the share of punishment that it contains (...) and so I want to love them so that my love finds fulfilment." [24]

He seemed to seek misfortune for his sense of beauty, the rough and hard was just as necessary for it, he liked to feel hurt and outcast in his delicacy, and yet Genet felt a great bond with creation, although he always saw it in terms of the separation between criminals and others:

"I wish to become a multitude, my companions from misery, the children of misfortune. I envy them for the fame which they separate and which I use for less pure purposes. Talent is courtesy to matter; its essence is to give song to mute things. My talent is my love for what makes up the world of prisons and bagnos. Not as if I wanted to transform them, to lead them towards your life, or as if I granted them indulgence and pity: for me, thieves, traitors, murderers, villains and swindlers have a deep - an empty beauty that I deny you!" [108]

The application of criminal law is the postulate, closely linked to the idea of human dignity, that someone may only be punished for an offence if this offence can be imputed to him as a personally attributable wrong. Was Genet compelled to commit a crime for heteronomous reasons, like Jean Valjean, in order not to watch children starve to death, or were his extraordinary deeds declared crimes because the power-elite saw them as having too great a revolutionary force?

In the newspaper article above, Genet compares himself very unhappily with Kafka, with a person who- beginning from early childhood, felt guilty for everything, because his father blamed and accused him for everything. The invisible judge, who manifests himself not only in his works, is an integral part of his personality. An opaque judicial system that passes bureaucratic and impersonal judgement on people, condemns them and keeps their entire lives behind a file number. A maze of paragraphs and legal definitions, endlessly long corridors where artificial light makes you forget the night. Judges and lawyers, statues of the law, cold, deaf, mute.

The righteous man is in an eternal trial against himself, conscience as the voice of reason and there will always be a reason to feel guilty, be it because one is better off than others and feels the pain of the world (Weltschmerz) or because the universal capacity for guilt is a relic from original sin? The idea becomes even clearer in view of the climate crisis: our carbon footprint and the consequences for the world and posterity.

Genet may have consciously withdrawn from the system of bureaucratised work, he certainly never experienced the pressure and irrationality of ordinary life, yet he condemns Kafka and his art, even though he himself should have realised that he lacks the moral organ to put himself in the Kafkaesque world.

This text began with the difficulty of comparison and will end with it. Both Kafka and Genet describe the crime and the punishment in their own way: Kafka is blamelessly guilty and Genet, despite being guilty, is incapable of feeling guilt. A person's capacity for guilt is an inner peculiarity, which is trodden on by the coarse and nourished by the tender.

Warum wurde ich der Dieb? Ein Kind guckt aus dem Fenster und sieht unten jemanden gehen Es fragt sich warum es so geboren ist und ob es später wird mehr verstehen

Der Dieb hebt den Kopf und sieht des Henkers Silhouette „Wieso musste ich der Dieb werden, bald sterbend für etwas wofür ich keine Schuld empfinde? Der, der den Arm austreckt in einer Welt, die den Hungrigen frisst- und ein Verbrecher wird, weil das ihm zustehende Brot im goldenen Käfig ist? Stehe ich im größeren Unrecht? Oder bin ich klein genug, dass man mit dem Finger auf mich zeigen kann? Ist dies die Gerechtigkeit der Menschen, so erkenne ich sie nicht an!

Wenn entbeut Lieb dem Andern Lieb, da Geteiltheit nicht das Ganze gibt Wohl oft war ich dieser Fahrten ein verrohter Dieb Dafür verdiente ich ein Tödlichhieb!

Wahnjammer fürchtend musste ich stehlen Niemand kann diese Beichte abnehmen Das Herz wird dem ohne Courage und auch ich mir selbst Nie und nimmer vergeben

Sicher, oft war ich am Verfehlen Und oft scheiternd an ausgedachten Hindernissen Mit diesen Geistern, die mich quälen Schatten von Versäumnissen

Ein Fleckchen blau über meinem Haupt- o, bitte! Ein Stückchen Erde, sei sie auch am Abgrundsrand

Jede Sekunde einatmend und dann die Zeit wegpustend mit dem Löwenzahn

Alles wird durchseelt und ich sehe ein Fenster dahinter ein Kind, welches lacht Auch mein schlechtes Los hätte ein Billet sein können hätte der Vorwurf mit dem Möglichen getanzt

Wie groß hätte diese Welt sein können, ein Reich, in dem ich immer wäre satt Doch der Bauchschmerz verdrängte und fraß dann auch die Moral!“ Der Dieb dachte so laut, dass es um ihn herum wie zu blitzen schien Noch weiter wurde der Hals noch oben gestreckt Vielleicht wollte das Ohr noch ein letztes Vogellied vernehmen In kontra-f, ein Posaunenton Der knurrende Magen des Brotdiebs, welch‘ Schicksalshohn! Doch unverhofft zart kurz vor dem Hieb ein leises Gezwitscher und ein Gruß aus der Ewigkeit im reflektierenden Eisenglitter

[black-n-white-wings]

I've arrived late to the fandom, but I've never read someone who said the Wen *deserved* to die. I've seen Jiang Cheng could maybe have spared them, or that he *had to* kill them, or that he himself was not conflicted at all about choosing revenge rather than moral high ground like wwx, or whatever. The Wen themselves were not the focus, on that analysis, as they should, they're a plot device of which the only utility is to drive a wedge between the different characters. I've seen, however, rants on how JC's fans are child abusers, homophobic bitches, vain and shallow, the kind of people who support genocide and mysogyny. So you're upset because you see a few posts floating around, written by probably young women, who play doll? I'm upset by bullies. I think that's why I can't see your point of view because, in truth, I don't care about all that. I care that I'm attacked on a fan space for having a hyperfixation that's lasted waaaaay longer than the few previous ones or I'd have fucked out of there.

Every time I see people discussing characters they like and don't like, the focus is on the characters, but for some characters lie jc and jgy, my *god* the focus is dial up to a thousand and hurled at the readers instead and *that* is my roman empire. And if people defending a character that is important to them, that makes them feel good, that maybe got them out of a reading or writing slump is not your cup of tea... ✨block✨

Curate your content. Block those that attack readers and those that put shields in front of their blorbos. If jc is your roman empire, keep putting him under a microscope, posting that if you want and blocking the answers you don't like. It's fandom. It's not jobs with colleagues and bosses, it's for fun. "Playing with dolls" as a post said.

And here's the last point I think I'm gonna add to the conversation. It was pleasant enough but starting to be a bit cyclic, and I'll just end up repeating myself, that means that part of the conversation is dying or dead:

Jiang Cheng doesn't have to do anything. No self-reflection, no acknowledgement of abuse, no grand apologies, nothing! Neither does Wei Wuxian for killing half the jianghu's cultivators and reanimating a child as a zombie without his consent or violating his enemies as revenge, or lwj for existing (erm..) because they're fucking fictional. Their existence is a loop, that goes from first page to last page and back to first page again when the book is picked back up. Maybe a few additional chapters when people write post-canon fanfictions that you particularly enjoy. Otherwise? Nothing. I don't like the book, I constantly oscillate between mxtx is a great writer and mxtx wrote the longest introduction just to get to the porn chapters, but again I only have the English version as reference, I don't like the main characters, but my god I love the universe, the possibilities, everything. And I love Jiang Cheng as a character, why he acts like that, what happened to him and what he did as a response, as extreme as it was. I love other characters but him? I wrote 20k words in maybe 2 months and for some of y'all chronically on ao3 that's not that impressive but I hadn't written something I liked in half a year before that purple motherfucker came in. But he is only what we let him be. He's not real, and he won't change and he won't apologise more than he did in the temple, and he won't grow as a person because the author finished her book. And so, the rest is up to what the readers and watchers and fanfic writers want him to be, what they need him to be. And people don't need the same thing from the same image and it's okay. He's here for that. Catharsis, self-reflection, unhinged scenarii and all. It's okay. What is not is using a fictional character to throw hate at very real, and maybe vulnerable people. Because no one gets as obsessed with a character if they're not helping them cope with whatever happening in their lives. So criticise if you want, burn your roman empire until you're satisfied with your prodding and digging and clawing, but that's how you enjoy the story. Some are clearly only here for the romance and the porn. Some are here because the actors in the Untamed are nice to look at, some are here because their mutuals pushed them in. I suspect some are participating in the discussion without having read or seen anything and have instead recomposed the entire story with only gifs and metas and fanfics.

So, before I sound too much like a mom on the internet, have fun, let people have their fun. I love debating but I hate fighting. Debating with people I disagree with is great! Getting insulted is not. So my only solution is to curate my content heavily, and I'd never had to do that before! And I've been to many fandoms! Maybe the quiet part of them. Anyway I'd rather see defences than empty attacks that had been said a thousand times. At least I had a good laugh at how unserious some of the defences were, like the torture-dugeon conundrum in wetlands.

Hope my point of view of fans was clearer! I tossed literary analysis because I've said what I wanted before, that context and plot device are fundamental to be thought about when analysing, and the point was not really on dusting my literary degree, but being a JC fan

I don’t think Wen Ning told Jiang Cheng about the golden core because he wanted him to know he owed Wei Ying or any of the sort. Like a lot of people seem to think that and therefore conclude Wen Ning was out of line. But it’s more likely that he did it to give Jiang Cheng the wake up call he needed. Because he has lived for 13 years in denial of the truth in that Jiang Yan Li’s death was not Wei Yings fault and he himself had a hand in his brothers demise. It was meant to be a reminder to him of who Wei Ying actually is and the made version he has in his head is a perception that has been warped by his anger and grief. It’s meant to be a reminder of how much Wei Ying loved him. Jiang Chengs anger is understandable but it doesn’t justify him treating Wei Ying the way he did and putting all the blame on him without ever trying to comprehend the choices his brother made and why he made them.

[cloudninetonine]

The Hero of Nature was the youngest of the group, both in terms of timeline and physicality and bore similar attributes to his Hero Link counterpart in more ways than one. You knew, ignoring the fact the Gerudo man was a Ganon, Wild would have loved to meet the man and cause their feral chaos together like the destined soulmates they were. A piece of home in a way, you clung to him quite quickly also, pulled into his wacky shenanigans and his fun little messes that had the group groaning in distaste.

"You're insane." Like now, certainly, something that would have had your favourite brooding monarch throwing a fit even a child would wince at. "Seriously, Nat, this is fucking crazy."

The bear's head raised at your whisper and you both ducked down a little more.

The redhead looked at you, confused. "You've never wanted to ride a bear before? Not even once?"

"Of course, I've wanted to." You snapped like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But you know what I also want? To keep my guts inside me rather than splattered on the floor."

Hours spent listening to the wonderful voice of David Attenborough had instilled both a fear and a fascination with the Earth and its inhabitants, while bears did indeed look friend shaped a small 'fun fact' from the broadcaster about how a bear's claws, teeth, running speed, size ect, etc. Was enough to deter you from getting even the slightest bit close to then- even now was pushing your "I don't want to die this way." Boundaries miles away, the boundary line was a dot in the distance, a star in the sky, an atom to a microscope-

You yelped when the man threw you over his shoulder, huffing out air at the impact as he leapt over the log you had found refuge behind and raced towards the beast, laughing at its guttural growls and roar.

"Nat, Nat, NAT!" 

Screams were drowned out but the sounds of the bear as the man hopped onto the great creature, bucking feverously to rid you of its back and make you its next meal for your very rude disturbance.

Oh, but Nature certainly wasn't going to let that happen, dropping you onto his lap and digging his hands into its fur. He certainly was pleased with himself, laughing like a madman as you were both thrown about, a dizzy spell hitting you fast as the mammal continued to try and throw you both off, groaning in distaste.

A minute or two passed, a headache forming as your brain slammed against your skull violently at each jump and turn, eyes straining to see the forest in front of you as you made a last ditch effort to stop this 'fight'.

You leaned over to gently massage the bear's ears in pure desperation.

And slowly but surely, the bear began to real, the buck reducing to shaking and the shaking reducing to stillness as the creature panted to catch its breath in the middle of the dense woodland. You were rigid, from both pure fear and pure adrenaline running through your veins, icy cold while Nature laughed something impressive, patting the giant creature between the ears.

"That was amazing!" He praised, gently nudging you. "I haven't seen a bear relax so fast, how did you- (Name)?"

The Gerudo man poked you quizzically, your body bopping to the side before falling off the creature, petrified.

"Oh no."

The man's stomach dropped as he thought about Tide's reaction, hopping off and letting the beast step back, still panting as he shook you wildly, calling your name in a frantic voice.

Oh, he was dead. Dead for sure. The old man had already grown protective, a parent claim over you from those days of your fever while he nursed you back to health. You were delirious of course, muttering something or other that had the elder man soft with empathy as he patted your hair and wiped away the sweat.

"I think they should come with us."

And despite the argument that transpired with a few not wanting such a decision, Tide stood firm and that was that- you were part of the group.

A great decision really, no one else was crazy enough to join his escapades.

"Nat…" Your voice was but a whisper, the man perking up in relief. "I need…to ask you something…."

The man leaned closer, concern still written over his face as he nodded for you to continue, holding your hand gently.

"Why the fuck is the bear licking my hair."

[thaisibir]

the Phantom Thieves as medical specialties

disclaimer: I’m in the medical field, specifically anesthesiology, and I’ve worked in the ER/emergency medicine before pursuing anesthesia

Ren: emergency medicine -jack of all trades -the Swiss Army knife of medicine -can do everything from suturing cuts to reviving people from cardiac arrest -bikes to work -hits up the batting cages to decompress -has seen some real gnarly shit -can keep a cool head when someone comes in actively dying

Ann: dermatologist -has the bougie lifestyle that everyone in the medical field wants -no calls, no weekends, always living her best life -perpetual glowing complexion -knows a billion clinical terms to describe skin -knows the perfect skin care regimen for all her friends

Ryuji: PM&R (physical medicine and rehabilitation) -helps patients literally get back on their feet -knows all the therapies to correct gait and posture but his own posture is shit -always reminds his friends to stretch -knows every conceivable way the human body can break (mostly from personal experience) -almost went into orthopedic surgery but didn't want to do more school than he could take

Morgana: anesthesiologist (my field!) -makes you go to sleep -won't shut up about patient safety/advocacy ("watch your health!") -would sedate a combative uncooperative kid with a ketamine dart -expert at glaring at surgeons over the sterile drapes -would complain out loud if the medical student is chosen to close skin -more than happy to cancel cases and make surgeons throw a fit -crossword puzzles

Yusuke: pathologist -attention to detail, visually oriented -studies pretty slides all day -constantly mesmerized by the patterns in microscopic cells and tissues -always in search of the perfect beautiful specimen

Makoto: neurosurgeon -been in school/training forever -lives in the operating room -the queen of said operating room -in a profession that demands both physical stamina and immaculate precision -would stand for 10 hours straight correcting someone's spine with screws and rods -would make anesthesia stick an IV in her arm and hydrate her with an IV bag so she can keep operating (yes I've done this for a neurosurgeon once. She was pregnant too. Neurosurgeons don't fuck around.) -appointed as chief of surgery and regrets it sometimes

Futaba: radiologist -rich in the dark -never sees sunlight -stares at the computer all the time -has to be dragged outside by her friends so she can get her daily vitamin D -knows her patients inside and out without speaking a word to them -goes ham on trying out the latest medical tech -hangs up (generic) CT scans and X-ray images in her room for the aesthetic

Haru: pediatrician -wears cute cartoon badge holders -also wears cheery pastel-colored scrubs -keeps calm and polite even before the most anal unreasonable parents -can soothe any crying baby in seconds -very sharp eye for catching signs of child abuse -would rather take the lower salary working with kids than dealing with adults

[raccoonhearteyes]

Part I

July 8th 2018

Lexa has learned to find the events around the city. She knows where people store their spare key, and when they may be out of town. She knows the patterns of the local bakeries and when they toss their day-old bread. She’s surviving.

It’s easy to sneak into events when no one remembers you once you’ve walked past them. Lexa has taken advantage of this perk many times to get into clubs, concerts, and weddings. This rooftop party is no different. 

It’s a hot and muggy July evening in the city. The gallery below is hosting a party to celebrate new partnerships with artists. The rooftop is full of budding artists and wealthy patrons. There’s a low hum of music, chilled cocktails, and a few waiters wandering through with finger food. 

Lexa is content to stand off by the side, filling up on free snacks and drinks.

A blonde woman approaches the table, lays out a napkin and begins piling cocktail wieners on it. Then, as stealthily as she can, places the whole thing into her purse. Lexa watches her do this again with mini quiches. 

This time, the woman looks up and catches Lexa’s eyes. 

Lexa smirks. “Hungry?” 

The woman looks slightly embarrassed, but admits, “I’m an executive assistant at the gallery. I planned this whole thing, and everyone is too busy sucking up to the artists and patrons that they aren’t eating this delicious food that I spent hours on the phone with a caterer about.”

“Then by all means, let me help you.” Lexa grabs a napkin to start filling with mini crab cakes. 

The woman smiles and with renewed vigor, she fills her purse with as much as it can hold. When it’s too stuffed to hold anything else, she reaches out her hand and says, “I’m Clarke, by the way.” 

“Anna,” Lexa replies, taking her hand. 

Clarke is slow to let go, allowing her eyes to trace over every feature of Lexa’s face. It’s long enough that Lexa begins to feel like she’s under a microscope and she starts to fidget.

“Your eyes are like a forest.”

“Wow, what a line,” Lexa jokes, trying to laugh it off. 

But Clarke is still looking at her intently, focused on the green of her eyes and replies in complete seriousness, “It’s not a line. I’ve just never seen anyone with such deep verdant eyes.” 

This time Lexa flushes, and Clarke comments, “You’re cute when you blush,” which only makes the tips of Lexa’s ears turn even more red under the observation.

“Can we talk about something else?”

“We don’t have to talk at all,” and Lexa watches Clarke’s eyes dip to her lips.

Lexa stares back at Clarke’s, lost in the beauty mark above her top lip and asks, “Does that line usually work for you?” 

“Honestly, I’ve never tried it before. But stealing apps with you has been the most fun I've had all night, and I'm really ready to get out of here.” 

“Lead the way,” and Lexa offers her hand for Clarke to grab. 

-----------

They walk to a park nearby, where Clarke finds a picnic table and spreads out the spoils from her purse. “Dinner?” she offers. 

Lexa takes the seat across from her and pops a crab cake into her mouth. Stuffing it into one side of her cheek she asks, “So do you always leave parties early?” 

“My friends say that I need to learn how to have more fun.”

“And skipping the party complies with that?” 

“It was a work party, so yes. I did all the planning, I already know the patrons and the artists, so yeah. I didn’t want to be at work any more.  And you were beautiful, and helped me steal dinner for this wonderful date.”

“So it’s a date now?”

“I was hoping so, yeah,” and for the first time that night, Clarke seems unsure of herself. 

“Sounds like we need to get some first date questions out of the way then.” 

They talk about work. Their childhoods. Hopes and dreams. 

Clarke is honest. She’s an executive assistant for a gallery, but she’s an artist herself. Waiting for the right collection to break her way into the gallery scene with an exhibit of her own. She’s an only child. Her father died when she was young. Her mom has been somewhat overbearing ever since. She wants to be an artist, but feels stuck in her art. She’s currently working on a series of portraits of people as skies, but nothing is quite meeting her expectations. 

Lexa has to lie. Blatant honesty about being a homeless, jobless, ghost would probably scare her off. She pretends she’s a teacher, because if she could enroll in school, that’s what she would have wanted. She skips over the ugly foster care parts of her childhood. 

By the time they finish all of the stolen snacks, hours have passed and Lexa thinks she may know Clarke more than any one she’d talked to in the last ten years. She’s not ready for this to end. This is a rare experience for Lexa, getting beyond the initial getting to know you greetings. 

Clarke asks if she wants to walk around the park a bit, and she immediately agrees. They slow when they reach a fountain. Lexa isn’t sure how it happens, but she suddenly has a girl with pretty blue eyes who wants to kiss her, and she finds herself kissing her back.

Lexa finds herself being tugged down the street, fingers intertwined as they stumble through an apartment door.

“I don’t usually do this,” Clarke breaths as she pulls away.

“Me neither,” Lexa sighs, pinning her against the wall.

It was a race after that. A hot, sweaty, needy race that left both of them spent, and drifting off to sleep after giggling late into the night.

-----------

Lexa wakes up to sun pouring through a window, a mass of blonde hair in her mouth, and her arm trapped under Clarke’s neck. She knows she needs to leave before Clarke wakes up. But Clarke looks so peaceful and Lexa can’t bear to wake her up to extricate her arm. 

Clarke stirs in her arms, nuzzling further into Lexa’s body before she wakes with a start. 

She looks confused. Brow furrowed, trying to pull a name or a memory from last night. She settles for a soft, “Hi?”

“Hi,” Lexa whispers back. 

Clarke looks down at their bodies, clocking the fact that both she and Lexa are naked. “Well it seems we had a fun night.”

“We did,” Lexa smirks.

“I’m sorry… I don’t actually remember your name… I must’ve had too much to drink last night.”

“Oh, right. Anna,” Lexa lies again, holding out her hand to reintroduce herself. 

Clarke looks at it and shakes it again. “So what exactly happened last night?” 

“I was at your gallery event. Caught you stealing snacks, so I helped you fill your purse. We left, talked, and well…” Lexa glances down at the tangled sheets to let that do the talking. 

Clarke rubs at her temples where the hangover headache should be. Lexa knows she doesn’t have one-- they only had one drink each. But the mind convinces itself otherwise when you wake up to a stranger in your bed and have no idea how they got there.  

Eventually, Clarke says, “I have to shower and then get to work.”

“Of course, I’ll get out of your hair.” Lexa jumps out of bed and starts pulling her own clothes back on. 

Clarke watches her closely, and Lexa again feels like she’s under a microscope. No one has ever looked at her as intensely as Clarke does. “Do you need to shower?” She cocks her head to the side awaiting Lexa’s answer. 

“I can shower at home,” Lexa answers, lying through her teeth because she has no idea where she’s sleeping tonight. 

Clarke stands, letting the sheet slip down her body, and Lexa forces herself to look at the wall. 

“Can’t even look at me now?” 

“I’m trying to be respectful,” Lexa pleads. 

Clarke approaches her, hooks her fingers in Lexa’s belt loops and tugs. “A gentleman. But it seems only fair you join me so I have a new memory of the night I apparently missed.”

Lexa tries to argue, but her words pause in her mouth. She lets Clarke tug her shorts back down and lead her towards the bathroom. They’re kissing before the water is even hot and then Clarke pulls her into the shower and lets Lexa push her against the cold shower tiles. 

Lexa sinks to her knees, kissing a soft belly and inner thighs and earning a gasp from Clarke. Clarke’s hands root in her hair as she licks through her, head thudding against the tiles, and an endless stream of fuck. yes. there. tumbling from her mouth. Lexa steadies her as she arches into her mouth and coaxes her through the aftershocks, then stands to kiss her long and slow. 

Clarke seems barely coherent before saying, “Wow, that was… unforgettable” 

Lexa’s heart seizes at her word choice. She knows she’ll be forgotten once again as soon as she leaves this apartment, but decides to make the most of it before she goes. 

After they are dried, clothes, and caffeinated, Lexa sees Clarke glance at her watch and realize just how late she’s going to be for work, and rushes through the rest of her morning routine. She and Lexa step out of her apartment together when Clarke asks, “Will I see you again?”  

Lexa offers a smile in lieu of an answer. “Get going, Clarke, I don’t want you to be late for work.”

“This morning was fun. I’m sure last night was too if I could remember it,” Clarke laughs, kisses her on the cheek, and starts to power walk to the office.

[punemy-spotted]

For Blue Skies

Pairing: Ikaris x Desi Muslim!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to FGM/Clitorectomy; Allusions to Child Abuse; Allusions to Scars; Angst; Arguments; Throwing of Glass; Psychology and the Healing of the Inner Child; Some element of Hurt/Comfort

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY AND IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE CONTENT THAT IS BEING PRESENTED, PLEASE DO NOT READ

Word Count: 2k words

Summary: To love a God is no easy thing. To face a God who could not shape a kinder humanity is even harder.

Author’s Notes: When I was five years old, I was subjected to a clitorectomy, a procedure that was a violation of my human rights and bodily autonomy. It has fundamentally changed the way I view my sexuality and challenged my ability to see myself as a person worthy of sexual pleasure and love.

Eternals was a movie that I both loved and hated because of the implication that the Eternals just… sat by and watched human history become what it is, or that they may have actually shaped it into what it is. Knowing the historical origins of FGM and connecting that to some of the story of the Eternals, I had a mini-breakdown and ended up spending weeks writing this to deal with it.

As always, thank you @brandycranby for putting up with me ranting about this.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

In a way, you almost should have known this would happen — just as Icarus himself so loved the freedom of his wings and the warmth of the sun upon them that he flew too close and fell to his death, the act of loving Ikaris has burned you alive, hasn’t it?

Immortality, you know — have known, long before he broke his way into your life — is a curse. He has seen so much, grappled with Gods and Monsters, shaped the very humanity you are afflicted with. How can he see your pain properly, viewed from so high above, so aware of the whole scope of humanity, unbothered by your mundane troubles? Small things to a giant, the rough edges of this unforgiving universe are… nothing.

But you, mortal you, a microscopic blip in the scope of human history, wrapped in the constant daily stressors of your ephemeral life. To see the world through your eyes is to magnify his view a thousandfold and even the smoothest of surfaces are a mountain range of jagged peaks reaching up to the sky when viewed from up close.

To love a God is to know he was never truly yours, no matter how many promises he makes of himself — fealty and fidelity and faith — or how many ways you want to believe him. Never yours, but in the moments your life and his coincide, you are his.

The weight of truth is a heavy, heartless thing, sinking into the bliss of new love slowly, burning away the hazy edge of infatuation to bring about clear realization. A hand of ice and stone emerges from the ocean floor and truth emerges from the well of his mouth to shame you both for having the very audacity to think that you could.

A thousand lives born from every single one lost — it seemed like such a fair exchange at the time, he tells you, barely able to meet the pained betrayal in your gaze. He almost makes it sound so reasonable.

What is the cost of a life, what is worth the weight of all your memories, is it a thousand lives scattered across a thousand different worlds, a consciousness split across many infinite light years? What is the price you would pay to erase all your pain in conjunction with your pleasures, all for the chance to maybe be reborn on a world guided by kinder Gods?

So all of this, all of human progress was … priming us to be cattle, it is not a question, merely a truth, a shameful reality you are forced to face, Then what was I? There. A selfish question — but then again, what are humans but inherently selfish, occupied by their own survival first? What are you too, but a tangle of traumas desperate to be seen as yourself and loved for it all the same.

You… How can he answer that, what answer can he give to that, when the truth cannot be softened, cannot be smoothed over? You would have been my greatest regret to lose.

On television, a reporter speculates aloud on the investigation into the dormant behemoth that might have borne any number of new utopias and before you, the Eternal who once never questioned the cost holds back tears.

It’s a tragedy you failed.

At five, a child’s body does not belong to them, belongs to the elders, the “know-betters” who decide everything from clothes to eventual college education, to “best interests” and good intentions, an object both sacred and unconsecrated, carefully cataloged and sealed away until — like wine — it has aged enough to be known.

And who are the catalogers but kindly doctors and home surgeons, self-taught anesthesiologists with adulterated sherbets and unwanted visits to hospital rooms built in the home, meant for the poking and the prodding, the measuring and marking before the magic is done — just a moment of knifework, easy as that — and the specimen is released into the arms of its anxious owners, finally made pretty and perfect, purified in blood.

If there was a physical recovery for you, you don’t remember, not anymore. Memories fracture with your mind, shattered by the knowing you’ll never stop grappling with, the wondering you’ll never find an end to.

The blame you need to try and place.

Would you have? Regretted it, if the Emergence had actually happened?

You ask it of him days later, days of pretending you aren’t weighing every word of his confession in a thousand different configurations, trying to find one that did not anchor your heart to the slumbering giant at the bottom of the sea.

You ask it of him and all he does is watch you, measuring the weight of your distrust, I would never want to see you hurt.

Oh.

Oh sweet love, you almost tell him, almost throw the glass in your hand at him, almost shatter yourself at his feet, Oh sweet love it is far too late for that.

You bite it back instead, bite back the bile rising in your throat, bite back that scream you wish you could shatter the planet with, You wouldn’t have seen though.

You never do.

He wouldn’t have seen, you charge him, and in doing so you set his hackles to rise, the uneasy truce of your broken heart splitting the chasm between you further and this time he wonders if it’s worth trying to fly, I promised you I would protect you, he reminds, in the sharp admonition of a father insisting his love is Real don’t you see all that I do for you?

You did, you concede. You have to acknowledge it.

The tragedy is, so does he.

It is strange. To be a child and an adult all at once, to watch him and feel all the hurt and betrayal of your present coursing through your five-year-old psyche, the terrified child at the very core of you screaming for answers you promised, you promise, you promised!

Did he know, would he have known, would it ever have been relevant for him, so passionately dedicated to ridding the world of Deviants in their entirety? Wasn’t that enough?

Would it ever be enough?

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, shouldn’t charge him with the failure to protect you from the crimes committed before he ever knew he would come into your life in the aftermath. How could he have known, have seen, have anticipated the consequences of his indifference when — for so many centuries of his immortal life — he has followed only the design of a God merciful enough to let him pretend to be one on this planet?

You shouldn’t, yet you do.

You do for the sake of the girl you have never stopped comforting, for the woman you could have become, the mourning you have not ceased. He can see it, can’t he? Can see the child at the core of you wondering if she has — once more — placed her trust in the wrong person.

He says your name like an apology, approaches you slowly, watches you burn from the inside out and wonders too if he has — once more — laid waste to the heart of a woman he loves.

The weight of truth is a heavy, heartless thing, sinking into the bliss of new love slowly, burning away the hazy edge of infatuation to bring about clear realization and as the smoke of your denial clears you find yourself facing a man who could have and did not and you wonder if the weight of your resentment is enough to unseat him from your chest, from that space between your ribs where his name beats like a drum, Did you know?

What?

Did. You. Know.

Sweetheart, if I had known I would have—

Don’t call me sweetheart! You have lost the right to any sweetness left in me.

The glass that goes sailing from your hand flies without much coaxing, an act compelled by a girl who knows only that she is angry and in pain, believing ardently that the current target of her ire was at fault for all of it.

He manages to avoid the projectile with infuriating ease, glancing back to eye the shards of your heartbroken psyche, seeing the many injustices of time past reflected back at him in the wreckage and still… walks… closer. I know you’re angry, swee— he cuts himself off his time, hands bare and bloody before you like surrender.

Surrender surrender surrender.

It’s a standoff, shards of you twinkling in the once-comfortable home of your kitchen, his hands unsteady as he wonders how to put you back together without crumbling you to dust. You step back and he steps closer, like he could cage you in. Did you know did you know did you know?

Did he?

To be all-knowing and all-seeing is to know that seeing and noticing are two different things — one does not always take notice of that which one sees, the nose in front of one’s own eyes is edited out by one’s own mind — and the Eternals are neither omnipotent nor omniscient, merely … eternal. And to be eternal is to forget. Forget the mundane terrors of the past, leave the present an unfolding path, and look to what chains drag the future ever closer.

All of this was supposed to end.

To love a God is to know he was never truly yours but what of a God who loves a human? What of knowing the inexorable passage of time will lead to the inevitability of decay, what of immortalizing a memory that too, will one day fade in the mind of a being that has only so much space to remember?

All of this was supposed to end, he tells you, arms wrapped around you, collapse halted but briefly as he tries to justify the unjust.

What is the cost of a life, what is worth the weight of all your memories, is it a thousand lives scattered across a thousand different worlds, a consciousness split across many infinite light years? What is the price he would pay to erase all your pain and all his guilt, all for the chance that somewhere, on a world far away from here, there is a being composed of the same atoms as you who does not know pain or betrayal or him?

Thus, All of this was supposed to end.

You knew.

Knowing is different from doing. We trusted Arishem then, when we were told not to intervene.

Immortality, you know — have known, long before he broke his way into your life and your heart — is a curse. He has seen so much, faced the collapse of his very faith itself, saved the very humanity you are afflicted with. How could he have done anything, when — so aware of the scope of history — he would then have had to do more and how close can a God wander towards Tyrant? Small things to a giant, the rough edges of this unforgiving universe are humanity’s very struggle to survive.

He will see you too, and find fleeting joy in the small things.

Everything was always so fast — there were so many Deviants and still no one could unite to fight them.

So their traditions took a backseat.

They always found a new way to kill each other.

Humanity is a hard thing to love, but humans are soft, are fragile, are reaching for meaning in an unfeeling universe and he… does not love them but loves you, has sworn to love you in the only ways he has learned to, been yours in the only way he has been capable of, is the only home you have ever known and here in the magnified reality of your life, he whispers the words, I’m sorry.

He is. You know he is.

So he says to you, Forgive me.

So. Singed by the fire of his devotion to the larger things beyond, you sink yourself into the hearth of his promise now — fealty, fidelity, faith — and try to believe.

I’ll forgive you.