#on the brink of Fine I'll Do It Myself

[hawnks]

"Possessive lover ML" recs keep letting me down

At no point should the words "If you don't want this, I'll leave you alone" leave his mouth.

[sotc]

Hurricane Groceries (it is different from regular groceries I assure you lol) has been bought. Some other stuff I have to do around the house to prep but I'll tackle that through the rest of today and tomorrow. Fully expecting a power outage but hoping 1) it won't happen too early into weathering the storm and 2) won't be longer than 24 hours.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Desperation

A/N: I wrote something very similar to this with the Belsire previously but I couldn't help myself 🙏

Belsire: male equivalent to the Beldam (Coraline)

CW: kidnapping, manipulation, sewing needles

A beautiful lullaby hummed against your ear, fog-like breath both chilly and thick caressed against its shell.

You never imagined that he could sew; sure, he was keen to cook you extravagant dinners, you never saw him clean despite the crooked house always spotless, and the clothes that were put in your drawers were consistently washed-- but such delicate needlework? You didn't think the creature had it in him. His fingers seemed made for it though, long and spindly and black at the tips, they held the needle at a fine point, without having to lick the end of the thread before putting it through the eye.

"Stab the needle through the eye....wrap two knots around the tongue, and pull it out the mouth."

His low, rasped voice was unlike anything you've heard from the men in the "real" world. Its croaky demure made sound as if his vocal chords were on the brink of snapping. It was very few and far between that his voice resounded throughout the house in a thunder-like boom.

Tonight, was not one of those nights. Not unless you made an effort to wrangle out of between his stick-like forearms in the wooden chair and began yelling ungrateful spiels whilst staying in HIS house. He said it was yours-- your "other home," but since the gateway tunnel back to your original 1-bedroom apartment became nothing but sturdy drywall with a key hole, its been his. It was always his, you were just too blind to see past the beautiful illusions built for you.

"Just like that... mending is simple work."

You feel his left hand, the one once holding your torn cardigan steady, reach up to lay a cold finger beneath your chin. It rubs back and forth, relishing in the warmth of your throat, the soft flesh between your jaw and jugular.

The Belsire seemed to enjoy running his smooth, icy digits along your naked skin, brushing from side to side, up and down to dip against your collar bone. He relished your warm-bloodedness from how often he took advantage of it. It was a wild contrast to his ever-frozen, rigid body draped in fine blacks and bruised shadows.

"C-can you show me again?" You plead, hoping the end of this activity wouldn't be the finale before your demise. Each time you have one of these "bonding" sessions the Belsire encourages you to entertain him with, you anticipate it being your last.

Each day you wait and wait... wondering if he's hungry again, if it'll hurt, if you'll make one more frustrated comment away that'll make him snap and pick your bones clean.

"Again..?" He tapped thrice on your neck, a twitching habit that sent cold shocks through you. "Why don't you try it yourself this time, dear?"

The sweet, affectionate name oozing from his lips was unnatural-- and yet, perfectly normal for the creature of love seduction. How many had fallen for that same adoring title, only to find themselves now locked in his stomach?

You couldn't tell anymore what was genuine adoration, or a disturbing method at getting you to put your guard down. When he was angry with you, for hiding or attempting another escapade to get back home,  'dear' transformed to spits of "insolent one" and "maddening human", at the very least. On his worst days you were a bewitching, dimwitted little creature too stupid to be let free- better off in his hands if not crunched between his teeth.

"I'm not too sure, I might..accidentally stab myself with the needle, you know?"

You shrug in feigned helplessness, hoping your lack of enthusiasm wouldn't tick him closer to the dark side.

"If you do, then I'll lick your wound and we can start again. Give it a try, won't you? I've seen your work on my coats," he mumbles lowly at the rest of his comments, "and that damned quilt you seem keen to keep."

He muses at the mention of your skilled handiwork you sneak to do when he's gone away at "none of your concern" events. However he knew of your activities in this prison cell while he was out didn't surprise you; the house had eyes, in places you'd rather not think of.

You took the needle from within his delicate grasp, mahogany red thread swinging loose and ready to be tightly wound in your wine colored cardigan.

You copy the movements he had done a million times, though you really weren't watching when he had. It was hard to concentrate with your body shivering, waiting for a sharp dagger or set of teeth to find it's way buried in your back.

The Belsire seems to ease up as you begin to complete the torn cardigan hole, placing two abnormally long hands upon the sides of your shoulders.

"Don't move," he grumbles, almost annoyed at the idea. "Smooth and quite warm... I never understood the pleasure of keeping food around longer than it's due date. But you, little button... why, you're almost opening a soft spot inside of me.."

You didn't like the sound of that. A soft spot within him would certainly be something he sought to squash.

"Are you sure you want a soft spot? I'm not even sure where that would be."

You almost laugh at your own joke, imagining his crisp limbs deflated. If you were making a soft spot, you best keep at making it grow.

"It seems you force it in me, whether I like it or not. I enjoy having you to myself, to come home to... even if the idea that you're taking part of me, is... infuriating."

The Belsire leans deeper into you, pressing the inside of his thighs against yours, craning his neck downward.

"The unfortunate part is, I think I may fall apart if you disappear."

You see the looks he gives from the corner of your eye; dark, empty buttons staring into you, awaiting your reaction. Was this another attempt to swoon you?

"Then I guess that means you can't eat me."

You sigh, hoping he'd agree. And oddly enough, he cracks a grin.

"I guess not. Though, don't hold your breath. I can't make any promises as to what my temper will lead to." The bridge of his nose is uncharacteristically pressed against your cheek, black dots boring holes into you. "On the topic, I'd be less inclined to eat you if you accepted my present..."

You round off the last bit of stitching, only to see an all too familiar velvet box on your left. It was open, music box playing a soft melody as a range of colors and sizes in buttons were available to view.

"I... I still can't, give you an answer." You go back to tying an end to the thread, praying for the Belsire's eerily calm mood to stay uninterrupted.

He goes quiet, habitually running a thumb down the shell of your ear. The chill was almost welcoming, soft flesh touching your heated one. It felt... genuine, a form of physical affection that was done for his pleasure more than your own. It would be comforting, if you weren't waiting for him to explode.

"I expected as much," he calmly huffs, shutting the box with a single finger. Its harsh snap made you drop the thread. "But you can't expect me to wait forever; you aren't going home. You will remain here, either as my slave, or my spouse. The difference is whether I have to force these buttons on you, or you take them willingly."

"I.. I just need a little more time. I haven't-- I'm not-- done adjusting. I'm not used to this world, like you."

You've given up pleading; for all you knew, there was no way back home that either of you could conjure. This was your fate.

Like a doll he dressed and cleaned and made a perfect dollhouse for, you were to sit here and provide him the comfort he could not create on his own. Like a god, creating his creatures of free will, he relished in the uniqueness you offered without him having to fabricate it first, the obedience you gave from fear in your own desire rather than a direct command.

A long silence left the air hanging stagnant, your patchwork sitting in front of you, finished and yet not quite the same as it once was. Why couldn't you go to the store and buy a new one, spend frivolous money and speak to the miserable cashier that reminded you humanity was still alive?

"...Fine. But not much longer, my sweet button...this-- mortal flesh still tying you to your world, has kept me at a distance I do not wish to stand at." A soft kiss, from creased, inexperienced lips touched the top of your cheekbone. "I want you for myself... I don't like not getting the things I want. And, I want you far more desperately than I imagined."

His voice was stoic, gentle and logical despite the romantic lines that were fed to you. Spindly fingers pulled back pieces of your hair, caressing the skin on your face with soft strokes. Like a human would do to an animal, running his knuckles against your cheek and his fingertips along your jaw.

Just a simple touch and turn of your chin was all it took to make you look at him.

"Don't make me wait. I will have you, and I want it to be because you will it. Please, don't make me do what neither of us want."

His tongue was warmer than his touch, somehow. Maybe it led to his even warmer heart, but you doubted it. Even with the way both his large, balmy palms were gripping beside your ears, pulling your face to touch his in a dance of lips and stolen breath, you wondered if this was just another web of lies spun to create your damnation.

But the desperation in how he swallowed you whole, pulling your hands away from the touchy needlework he was once keen on making you finish-- there was something human about it all, something touchy and irritable and obsessive. If he wanted you desperately then, you could only imagine how horribly ridden he was now, feeling your warmth as he made you colder with his hands and wrists, him never changing.

You peeked an eye open, wondering if those buttons stayed all-seeing, all watching, even when you kissed.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Do you think that since Shinra is such a massive company, does SOLDIER have to deal with office buraucracies? I wonder how Sephiroth would fare against endless forms hell

Oh SOLDIER is buried in bureaucratic nonsense just like everyone else. There are at least ten forms to fill out, five meetings to attend, and three "approval processes" standing between you and basic necessities. Some notable mentions include:

• Angeal once requested a new desk after his old one broke. HR demanded visual evidence that the desk was no longer functional. Instead of sending a photo of the broken desk, he sent a picture of Sephiroth sitting cross-legged on the floor, attempting to fill out reports with a clipboard. Approval was immediate.

• The bureaucracy is so profound that Genesis had to fill out three forms to request a form that would allow him to request permission to submit a complaint about there being too many forms.

• Sephiroth was reprimanded for "recklessly abandoning office duties" after taking a walk around Sector 0 to clear his head. HR made him fill out a Behavioral Justification Form, which included the question: "Would you do it again?" Sephiroth, fed up, wrote "Next time, I'll be shirtless, drunk, and loudly negotiating rates with the nearest sex worker." The form was mysteriously approved with a note: "Do not."

• Zack submitted a vacation request to visit home. The system flagged "Gongaga" as an unrecognized destination and required him to submit a "Geographical Verification of Existence" form. When he pointed out that there's literally a reactor in Gongaga, they wrote back and told him that Gongaga doesn't exist. Zack had a nervous breakdown and had to be sedated.

• Angeal had to submit a Proof of Sword Ownership form before being allowed to requisition maintenance supplies for the Buster Sword. When he pointed out that he's literally the only person in the building with a sword that large, he was asked to provide a sworn affidavit from at least two witnesses. Genesis and Sephiroth were the two unhelpful witnesses, and respectively wrote "His sword is big~" and "Give the man his oil."

• Genesis tried to requisition a coffee machine for the SOLDIER lounge but was told he needed to prove "sufficient caffeine demand." In response, he submitted a video of Zack beating the energy drink vending machine with a crowbar when it was broken.

• Speak of the vending machine, Genesis once wrote "Banora White juice" under the refreshment preferences requisition form. This triggered a four-week investigation into whether Banora White products posed a "brand conflict" with Shinra's drinks. Genesis was fined for "improper beverage selection." He then showed up to HR with a pipe bomb the next morning and was consequentially banned from the floor.

• Genesis (this is after he was banned) once had to provide official proof of his own existence to be approved for a company ID renewal. He submitted all his paperwork and was denied. He then threw a can of Banora White juice through the glass doors of the entrance, shattered it, and was banned from filling out forms.

• Sephiroth tried to get the broken lights in the training room fixed. Maintenance requested "Proof of Insufficient Illumination." He sent them a pitch-black photo with the note: In photo: Myself doing "thumbs up" gesture.

• God forbid you need something urgent. Zack needed a first-aid kit for training injuries, and they made him submit a "Medical Incident Form" to prove people actually get hurt during combat simulations. Angeal wasn't having it, so they malicious compliance-d their way out of it by carrying Sephiroth, pretending to be on the brink of death, up to the HR office to show them.

• Sephiroth requested blackout curtains for his quarters to block the constant glare of Shinra floodlights. They asked for proof of "adverse effects caused by lighting." He sent them a picture of himself, showcasing his dark circles and an expression so deranged that they sent him the curtains, along with a wellness check request.

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Kiki's delivery service (bangchan)

Rearranging your legs underneath you for the 5th time, you squish your cheek onto Chan's pectoral, breathing in the delicate scent of his laundry detergent and his cologne. Pain will make you miserable and achy but it won't ruin your Friday night with him. It's imperative.

Chan has usually so little time off you jumped at any occasion to spend a quiet night in forcing him to catch up on Studio Ghibili movies. He needed the culture and you needed the lazy late night cuddles on the couch. Period pain be damned.

"You've been quiet an awful lot tonight...", Chan mumbles softly, not fully averting his eyes from the screen as he leans in to kiss your temple, "is everything okay?", he asks, subtly referencing the fact that you and Jisung had basically ganged up on him and forced him to begin his journey through Miyazaki works of art. And also the fact that you'd usually ended up spoiling every single scene for him cause you needed to explain everything into the tiniest little details.

Also also referencing the fact that you tended to go silent whenever you were suffering. Whether it was mental pain or physical pain, you tried your best to power through it, grit your teeth and stubbornly keep going until you were on the brink of another mental breakdown.

He was always there to pick up your pieces and glue them back together. And you loved him for it, even though you felt bad for making him feel like you were another one of his responsibilities, someone he had to take care of, but you were so grateful for him as well and it wasn't like you could really help it, he had this deeply rooted nurturer in him that made him care for you so effortlessly whether you wanted him to or not.

Chan was also super attentive and perceptive. He picked up on every single one of your little details and quirks and peculiarities. Which meant that he definitely knew you weren't okay at the moment, he was just gently letting you know... without letting you know.

You sigh as another stab of pain hits your lower abdomen and it makes you squeeze your eyes shut and hiss in pain, what a perfect timing to just blatantly lie to your very smart very intuitive boyfriend: "yeah, yeah everything's fine. Just tired".

Chan ponders for a second before deciding to just take the matter into his own hands. By literally doing so. He pauses Kiki's Delivery Service just as Kiki's flying on her broom above the ocean with the seagulls and cradles you in his arms until you're sitting in between his thighs.

Which is very normal behavior for cuddle monster Channie.

Until he just stills for a second, hands hovering over your torso, legs pressed firmly against yours so you can't move. And then he attacks you with tickles.

The air in your lungs is sucked out so fast you're crying laughing one second and gasping and wheezing the next: "PLZEASE CH-CHANAHAHAHAHAH I'M HAHAHA I'M - I'M DYING".

And you're not even exaggerating. Your tummy was already aching and your muscles tense that the added strain and effort of catching your breath makes your stomach do somersaults in between the sharp daggers digging at your uterus.

You try to squirm and thrash out of his grasp to no avail, "hahaha tell me the truth and I'll spare you hahaha, that's your only way out", he laughs and squeaks and if it wasn't for the fact that you're currently focusing all your energies on not passing out from the pain and the laughter you would have already jumped at his neck and kissed him silly because of how cute he sounds: "FIN-AHAHA FINE YOU HAHAHA YOU-AH YOU WIN HAHAHA".

He immediately stops and settles you back down in your former spot, hugging your sides and patting your tummy until you calm down your breathing again. You inhale deeply, grimacing a little from the pain, your hand reflexively reaching for his own as you give it a little squeeze.

"I'm about to get my period. I've been silently crying and screaming at myself for the last couple of hours. And you're fucking perceptive and I can't hide anything from you", you pout, finally spitting out the truth, "okay... And you didn't tell me because?", he goads on, sighing you turn to face him, kind eyes and an encouraging smile on his lips as he holds you close, "because... I feel like you already have so many things to worry about, you're always taking care of me and the boys and working over time and stressing about everything, I don't want to add onto that".

The man with impossibly perfect features sighs right back at you, not in an annoyed manner, more a self assured one:"you're not adding onto anything, y/n. You're the only person I can actually fully relax and just be me, just be Chris with. No idol duties, no leader ones, no big brother or producer or captain of everything ones. I don't HAVE to take care of you, I WANT to. I want you to be happy and well looked after and in a way it's even selfish, cause if you're happy and thriving then I'm happy and thriving, it's like an osmosis thing", he giggles.

You turn in your seat and playfully roll your eyes at him as you cup his cheeks and peck his lips, "there's not an ounce of selfishness in your entire body, babe. And you have a pretty god damn gorgeous body, at that".

He giggles so loudly he starts squeaking again, triggering your cuteness aggression. You kiss him all over his face and nibble at his reddened ears, you only stop once he's gone completely silent laughing, breath hitching, the most perfect pearly whites on full show as he smiles brightly at you and pulls you flush to his chest, "my baby girl", he sighs, his voice barely above a whisper, "I promise you don't stress me out at all, and that I like taking care of you", he insists, leaning in to kiss you, "now, is your tummy hurting really bad? Is there anything I can do to help? Belly rubs? A heating pad? Painkillers? ".

You know you'll never win this battle. You know he'll never stop making you feel alllll the butterflies no matter what he says or does cause it's just second nature to him being this kind and wholesome. You shake your head lightly and stroke his cheek, "I'll be okay. You're my heating pad", you snicker, positioning yourself with your back fully resting against his chest, his arms coming around you in a swift move,warm hands flat on your tummy.

You reprise the movie and for a while everything seems to be going smoothly. The pangs in your guts are still very much present but your boyfriend gentle rubs on your stomach are surprisingly soothing.

Eyelids fluttering almost close, you feel yourself relaxing more and more, progressively loosing focus on Kiki, much to your dismay. Up until Chan's hand start shifting closer and closer to the waistband of your pants. He acts completely nonchalant about it, one palm still rubbing soft circles over your tummy and the other inching down... down.

A tingling sensation crawling all over you, a warm rush to your chest, you swallow down quietly, feeling the muscles in your neck tensing up by the second, perhaps in anticipation. The rooms quiet, or the sound of your fast heartbeat has just drowned out any other sound, you're not sure, but Chan's quiet. He's very quiet even as he stealthily slips one finger, and then two fingers down underneath your pants, he traces small stripes over the fabric of your underwear, slow at first, his wrist barely flicking.

Thin fingers but rough, finger pads, he starts running his fingertips in circle motion over the areas he deems more sensitive, letting the hitch in your breathing guide the intensity of his motion, the speed of it, the direction of it. As soon as he's satisfied with the way you're reacting to him, he picks up his pace just slightly, a low, satisfied chuckle finally emerging from his mouth when your thighs visibly start to twitch, a boost to his ego, means he's doing something right, very right.

It's as if all the blood in your body starts running faster and faster, rushing through your veins at incredible speed only to then concentrate all at once, all of it at your centre, and with the friction generated there, you can't help but whimper, your abs contracting and relaxing almost spasmodically, the daggers of pain alternating with pleasure that comes in a wave that builds up and up and up.

A trickle of sweat down your spine, you clutch Chan's unoccupied wrist and squeeze, jolting upwards in an arch as you feel yourself approaching your high more and more, "i-I-", words come out of your mouth in whimpers, you try to articulate a single thought but manage nothing even remotely intelligible, Chan's hums softly and kisses your cheek, his lips lingering on your dewy skin, "yes, baby girl? don't hold back, don't hold back and come for me", he taunts in a sing songy voice, cooing and breathing softly in your ear.

And that's enough to send you over the edge.

Choking on the strangled noise bursting out of you, release washes over you. No more pain twisting your guts, just pure bliss.

You close your eyes and relax back into the arms that hold you, breathing hard and laboriously while Chan taps his fingers around the wetness, a satisfied snicker rolling off his lips, the very same lips now kissing your shoulder and the side of your neck so tenderly, "good girl, such a good girl for me eh? you're feeling all better?", he asks sweetly, moving a wisp of your hair away from your face with his unused hand, to which you nod and smile bashfully, still feeling oh so wonderfully numb and light and darn good.

The movie paused, yourself and the couch all cleaned up, you settle back on the leathery seat cushion and finish up the last few drops of your glass of water while Chan himself is cleaning up in the washroom, a stupid smile on your face that you just can't wipe off, you adjust in your seat and cross your arms over your tummy that gargles with unholy sounds of hunger and unrest, perhaps.

And then gushing. Warmth. Not the feel good kind, though.

You jump on your feet and immediately spot the enlarging smear of blood on the couch, a frenzy on panic immediately taking over you just as your boyfriend walks right in: "oh my god I'm so sorry oh my god oh my god I'm.. I'm-mortified oh my god", you start rambling and shaking and hurriedly pat around your inner thighs, growing exponentially alarmed when your palms come back pinkish.

"Hey hey it's okay, y/n it's okay, I promise", Chan promptly scrambles to you and cups your cheeks, locking eyes with you and immediately reading the discomfort in them, "I think you left some tampons in the third drawer of my nightstand, go check, and grab any of my clothes to change into,you'll be okay, it's okay, don't worry about a thing", he reassures, patting your head, that wonderful encouraging smile of his taking up his whole face.

"B-but your couch and-oh my god this is so embarrassing this is awfu-", you start but Chan merely giggles and gently shakes your shoulders, "BABE!!", he exclaims firmly, making you snap out of your panic and fall silent, "stop apologising, start washing up, this is absolutely fine, the couch is going to be just fine. Go, I got this", he instructs in a gentler tone, even winking at you reassuringly.

And you swear that's all you needed. That fragment of complicity, reassuring gesture that instantly calms you down.

The fabric of his shorts goes swish swosh around your knees but it's so soft from wear and tear that you kind of love it, you think to yourself, jogging downstairs and into the kitchen where you find Chan steeping some deliciously smelling tea.

"There she is, did you find your stuff? Are the pants okay?", he asks as soon as you step into his arms once again, the hugging machine within him just acting out of instinct: "yeah, yeah everything's fine. Thank you, and I apologise again, I hope the couch isn't stained forever", you reply meekly, looking down at your feet, "the stain came right out with a single swipe, and even if it didn't I'd be more worried over you not feeling this awful over something you cannot even control".

Butterflies. In your belly and in your heart. Yeah they're never ever leaving.

You look up into the kindest gaze and smile, bewildered at your immense luck in having Chan as your partner, "how are you so perfect Chris? Like seriously, you're the perfect mix of loving and kind and funny as hell and empathetic and hot and smart and mature and absolute fucking perfection how do you even exist?", you exclaim dramatically, eyes wide and heart shaped over this very man holding you into his arms, who now giggles loudly and leans in to peck your lips," I don't think I'm the perfect boyfriend yet, but I'm working on it. You make it really easy though, you make it a happy process too", he gushes, kissing your lips first and then the tip of your nose.

"Shall we go back to Kiki and her deliveries now? I made us some tea so it'll keep the cramps at bay if they're still bothering you", he suggests then, lacing his arm around your waist so he can lead you into the living room.

You both settle in your former seat arrangement and you smirk to yourself despise the flush creeping up your cheeks just thinking about what happened there not half an hour ago, "oh those?", you reprise the argument about your cramps, "vanished. Disappeared. Non existent. Your little trick earlier... I think you worked some kind of magic on me I don't know", you declare, and Chan bursts into laughs, the tips of his ears going bright red, pride and flustered giddiness both coexisting in him at the moment, the epitome of a perfectly complex man.

[astrophileous]

ZAHRA I DEMAND (request) A PART TWO OF JEALOUS REID I AM BEGGINGGGGG 🧎‍♀️😩🙏 I am actually in love with the way you write spencer like MY GAWD. MY GAWD.

your request (demand) shall be my command, your majesty 🙏

Warning(s): gn!reader, more jealous spencer bcs apparently it wasn't enough in the first one, a cheesy narration abt "change" 🤢🤢🤢 bcs why not.

This is part two for this blurb.

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

If there was one thing Spencer Reid always found peculiar about mankind, it would be the general lack of acceptance when it came to change.

Before today, Spencer never understood the science behind metathesiophobia: the fear of change. Unpredicted and terrifying as it was, change was necessary to keep the ubiquitous balance of the universe. Change existed in the smallest and biggest capacity of the world, and Spencer, for the life of him, had never been able to berate change for doing exactly what it was intended to do.

Until now.

As Spencer stood next to the copy machine just a few feet away from the kitchenette, eavesdropping a discussion he had no business injecting himself into, Spencer finally understood why many people in the world feared change. The noises coming from the machine in front of him were tumultuous, but Spencer craned his neck and ears to the best of his capabilities just so he could listen in better to the conversation.

"JJ," Spencer heard you say, "I'm telling you, I'm not interested."

"I haven't even told you anything about him yet!"

"Jennifer, it's not about the guy. I'm sure your friend is lovely, but I'm just... not looking for anything like that right now."

"C'mon, (Y/N)," JJ nearly whined. "Please, please, please, just think about this? How long has it been since you broke up with that Bran guy, anyway? You've been single for a while now, don't you think it's finally time for a change?"

Change.

The word tasted bitter as Spencer felt it burn all the way down his throat.

There was a beat of pause where Spencer's heart thundered inside its crate; reeling in suspense over what your answer was going to be. He heard your sigh before your voice arose once more, "Fine. Just text me his number and I'll handle the rest myself, okay?"

Spencer tuned everything out after that, safe for JJ's elated squeal that echoed nearly halfway through the bullpen.

The rest of the day unraveled like a tedious nightmare. After collecting his belongings, Spencer headed out of the bullpen with his car keys in hand. He was waiting for the elevator to arrive, internally cursing his decision for having driven to work that morning, when an unfamiliar voice suddenly appeared behind him.

"You're still here, Doctor?"

Spencer turned around to see you approaching from the direction of Penelope's office. The smile on your face reminded him of cotton candy: soft and sweet; just like the scent of your perfume as it engulfed Spencer's whole being.

"I thought you already left," Spencer muttered.

"No, I had things to take care of. How about you?"

"Yeah. Same."

The elevator arrived with a ding. You walked in after him and pressed the button for the lobby, your scent attacking Spencer's senses even more ruthlessly within the tiny metal box.

"You have any plans for the weekend, Doc?" you asked once the elevator started going down. "A hot date, perhaps?"

Spencer loathed the view of your cheeky smile, along with the teasing gesture of your eyebrows at the suggestion of him going on a date with another person. Here he was, propelling himself to the brink of insanity over the idea of you being on a date with anyone else but him, and you didn't even bat an eye at the prospect of Spencer being with someone else.

"No hot dates for me," he responded. The elevator opened with another ding. "Can't say the same about you, though, can I?"

Your inquisitive gaze slid his way.

"I heard you and JJ in the pantry." Spencer opened the lobby doors, allowing you to walk through before falling into step beside you again. "So, are you going?"

"On the date? I honestly don't know." The night breeze blew against your face. Spencer shuffled closer when he noticed your subtle shiver. "I haven't even texted him yet. I don't feel like it, to be honest. But JJ just seemed so excited about it, so the least I could do is try talking to him first, right?"

An interim silence settled between the two of you. Before long, Spencer spotted his Volvo being parked a few paces ahead. "This is me." Spencer gestured to the car.

"Nice ride." You smiled, humming appreciatively at the vehicle. "Well, I'll get going, then. See you Monday, Doc. Drive safe."

Spencer watched as you started to saunter away. A familiar flame had begun raging and licking up his spine since the moment you mentioned the phrase a hot date in Spencer's face, and now, he could feel that same flame taking a hold of the beating organ inside his chest.

"Don't do it."

You stopped in your tracks.

It took Spencer a few seconds to realize that the interruption had come from him.

"Don't text that guy."

You spun around fully to face him. "Why not?"

"Because I don't think you should go out with him."

You looked at Spencer strangely. "You don't even know the guy."

"I don't need to. I just—" Spencer's jaw hardened, "—I need you to swear to me. Please. Swear you won't go on the date."

Your forehead creased in confusion.

You knew what Spencer was saying didn't make sense, but what perplexed you even more were the words that came out of your mouth next, "Okay. I won't go on the date."

Spencer breathed out his relief as if you just granted him fresh air after years of being buried underground. He gripped his satchel tighter and fiddled with the strap, giving you a curt nod before he slipped inside the driver's seat of his car.

Spencer drove away after that, leaving you standing alone in the middle of Quantico's deserted parking lot as you stared feebly at the tire marks on the ground. A foreign fire had suddenly flickered inside your chest, and even if you didn't understand the significance of it yet, you knew that it must've had something to do with a specific genius profiler who just demanded you to back out of a date that hadn't even been planned yet.

After casting one last look towards his speeding Volvo in the distance, you turned around and headed for your own car, feeling the fire in your ribcage burn brighter with every single one of your steps.

[hyperactively-me]

Princess!reader finally slipping up and insulting King Ghost by calling him a murderer, or saying that she hates him for that reason. King Ghost finally understanding why she doesn't like him. I need the angst and drama aaaA.

In the dimly lit chambers of the royal quarters, a heavy silence settled. King Ghost sat at his desk, surrounded by the flickering light of candles, lost in the weight of his responsibilities. He had always carried the weight of the crown with solemn grace, ruling his kingdom with a firm hand and an unwavering dedication. Ruling with a strong hand was necessary for Kastron to survive, earning the respect of his subjects and the loyalty of his council. Yet, despite his outward strength, there was a void within him that he couldn't quite fill – the strained relationship with his own wife. 

You kept him at a cold distance that seemed impassable. He could feel your eyes on him, could sense the tension in the air whenever you were in the same room. He yearned to bridge the gap between you, to understand the source of your resentment, but it remained unspoken. He knew that you resented him for taking you away from your home, for throwing you into this role that you never asked for. 

That evening, during dinner, you were absentmindedly pushing around your food with your fork. Your posture was tense, your face scrunched up, lost in thought. 

Ghost clears his throat, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

“What are you thinkin’ about?”

“Oh, this question again,” you snap. 

Being immediately met with your hostility, he prepares for a blowout argument to occur. 

“Can I not ask how my wife is doing?”

Your gaze hardened, your fingers curling into fists. You slam your fork down, springing up from your chair.

“Your wife,” you scoff. 

“It’s what you are, are you not?” 

You don’t say anything. 

“Do you want to tell me what you’re thinking about? We’ve been playing this game of back and forth and I’m growing tired of it.” 

“You want to know? You really are asking me this? Fine, I'll tell you.” Your voice trembled with suppressed emotion, a volcano on the brink of eruption. “I hate you for what you do.”

If he wasn’t paying attention before, he definitely is now. He sets down his fork softly. 

“Tell me what I do.” 

His simple response, his nonchalance, his ignorance of the whole situation, of your feelings, enrages you. The anger that had been simmering within you finally bubbled over, and you couldn't hold back the torrent of emotions any longer. Your voice cracked as you unleashed the storm that had been building up for far too long.

“You’re a murder, a killer. You’re a murderer and I can’t stand the thought of being married to someone who has so much blood on their hands.”

Ghost's posture stiffened, his own anger simmering beneath his usually controlled demeanor. “You speak as though I enjoy it. As though I revel in the violence.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, devoid of any humor. “Maybe you don't revel in it, but you certainly tolerate it, don't you? You justify it as the cost of maintaining your power. Well, I can't stand it. I can't stand the sight of you, knowing what you've done.”

His gaze bore into yours, the tension between you like a physical weight in the room. He opened his mouth, searching for words to counter your accusations, but you interrupted him. 

“And not to mention, I’m here now. Yeah, I’m all of a sudden the queen of your kingdom, and everyone expects me to tolerate it and to know what I’m doing. I have no fucking idea what I’m supposed to be doing here.”

Ghost's eyes flashed with frustration. “You think I don't carry the weight of every decision I make? You think I don't question myself, every night, about the lives lost under my command?”

Your laughter was harsh, cutting through the air like a blade. "Your remorse doesn't wash the blood on your hands. And it certainly doesn't—”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about, do you?” he cuts you off, the interruption slicing through the air. 

His voice is low and strained.

“You don't know the weight of these decisions this kingdom has had to face. You don't know the sacrifices I've had to make to protect this kingdom, to ensure its survival. Every choice I make, every life lost, it's a burden I carry with me every day.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words penetrating the walls of anger you had built up. You looked into his eyes, seeing something raw beneath his exterior. For the first time in a long while, you saw Ghost not as a cold king, but as a man – a man burdened by the choices he had made.

“I never wanted you to see me like this. I never wanted you to be exposed to the violence associated with me, and I sure as hell never wanted you to despise me.”

“You’re too good for me, you don’t deserve to be in this kingdom with me. So I tried my best to shield you from this side of me, from the violence associated with Kastron. I want to work toward a better future, not only for the kingdom, but for us.” 

You take in his words, understanding the weight of it. You’re going to be here for a lifetime. You’re not going anywhere. And who are you if you back down from a challenge? No, you’re a fighter, and you’ll go down fighting for what you think is right until the day you die. 

“I don’t know if I can just…forget everything,” you say slowly. “And I’m not expecting you to.”

“But, I can’t live the rest of my life here resenting you. It’s exhausting. I mean, fuck, I’m the queen of this kingdom,” you shake your head. 

A deep sigh escaped your lips, your shoulders sagging as the weight of your anger began to lift, replaced by a complex mixture of emotions.

"I don’t want to resent you," you admitted, your voice softer now. You twist the wedding ring on your finger. Ghost pretends not to notice.

“How can I close this distance between us?” Ghost pipes up with a calm tone. “How can I be better for you?”

“I… I don’t really know…” you say. “I just want to get to know who you really are. Who Simon is.”  

He’s quiet. 

“I could say the same for you, you know. I want to know who you are as well.” 

You nod slowly. “Okay…”

“After all, we do have a lifetime together,” he grunts. You pick your fork back up and take a bite of food. You think while you chew, taking in the last few moments. 

“I hope, with time, we can find a way to…overcome this. Together.” You nod your head solemnly.

Silence settled between you, a tense quiet that held the hope of change. The journey ahead was uncertain, a path fraught with challenges, but as you looked at him, you saw not just a king with blood on his hands, but a man willing to confront his past.

The anger that had ignited your words was still there, but it was tempered now by a glimmer of understanding, a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to stand together against the darkness that haunted both of you.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[faith2wood]

hey! i just finished beholden. i wanted to ask what got you writing, what had you stop for a decade, and what got you back in?

Ahhhh! Asking me why I write? You wanted word vomit? You're getting word vomit.

(There's a little spoiler for Beholden under the cut.)

What got me writing?

RAGE. 

No, really.

I was a lurker/reader in the Buffy fandom at the time, and I'd only occasionally read HP fics — 95% gen!fic, 4% low rated canon romance, 1% Sirius/OC smut, because the rest of my faves were kids, and I wasn't interested in anything else. 

And then after DH, with Draco getting pushed to the brink of redemption, but not crossing the line, and with Harry's view of him changing — always so sorry, so sad for him, always noting how scared he seemed, even switching to calling him 'Draco' — I was left with such a need to read that pairing. I wanted Draco to cross that line, and I wanted that soft understanding Harry had found for him to get explored. 

So, I tried reading Harry/Draco fics. And OH MAN. 

I was no stranger to character-bashing and unusual interpretations of canon — Buffy fandom was pretty damn crazy — but I knew my way around that place. With Harry/Draco, I stepped into the WILD. Fic after fic, all I could find was everything I loved and everything Harry loved in canon torn apart to pieces. His friends, his girlfriend, his House, his beliefs, his humor, the things that he wanted, the things that he fought for, the things that he was willing to die for, his character growth in DH, the confident brave man he became after Dobby's death, all of it dismissed, usually in a handful of exposition paragraphs. Endless apologies for the pure-blood supremacists. Draco 'redeeming' himself by quoting lines written by his fans on discussion boards, and therefore showing me he's not regretful, just full of excuses. Or he's not even redeemed, just cool and rich and suave (lol) and so much wittier than that bumbling, irrationally angry Harry Potter that felt plucked straight from OotP with all his teen angst painfully exaggerated. And then in those fics Harry just goes with it because he thinks Draco is hot. 

I could go on. I won't. 

So, I had that petulant moment where I thought, "Fine. I'll do it myself. How hard can it be?" 

Well, pretty damn hard, apparently. It's hard to create convincing drama. It's hard to get the characters in the right frame of mind so your plot could work. It's very hard to write smart and witty characters. It's hard to convincingly redeem someone. It's hard to juggle a cast of side-characters. It's hard to spell the word nesscscseary. It's especially hard to take that perfect, plausible, well-thought out story in your head and write it down without losing at least half of what makes it good. It's also hard to find time to write and write well. And of course your personal opinions on canon and fanon can seep through no matter how hard you try not to preach, and it can totally ruin a story.

That realization tempered my rage. It didn't mean I was willing to read the things I don't like, of course; I always liberally use that back button. But I did eventually find fics that I love and reccers I can trust, and learned to forgive when authors cut some corners.

Oh, but the taste of POWER writing gave me. The fact that I can just write the things I want to read. Cater to my own preferences. Simply not include the things I don't like. I want it, it's there; I don't want it, it's not.

So that's why I started writing. So I could read exactly what I wanted to read. Stories perfectly tailored for me. Honestly, I'm my biggest fan. I'm my own writing bitch. It doesn't even matter if I fail to do a good job while writing down the little movie that played out in my head, because I know my own intentions. I thought it all through. What I've written might not make sense to a reader sometimes, but it always makes sense to me. And I can always forgive myself if I feel like I failed. I find it very, very easy to forgive myself. Others, not so much, especially if I start to suspect they don't love Harry enough.

What made me stop writing?

I didn't stop writing. I stopped posting. I stopped interacting with fandom. I felt like I had my fill. I'm happy to recycle plots and read and write similar things over and over again, because I want what I want, and I won't apologize for it, but apparently I've reached a limit after all and felt like I have nothing new to offer.

I kept writing stuff. Fanfic for other fandoms, original stuff, even HP fics. Most of it unfinished and unedited and unpresentable, but enough to satisfy my occasional cravings for specific things. Which, as I said, is the whole point of my writing.

So I'll rephrase your next question: What got me to finally finish a Harry/Draco fic and post it? 

THE CURSED CHILD. lol I haven't seen it. Or read it. I haven't even read the synopsis. Next gen, eh, I was never interested. But I caught some spoilers about it on tumblr and reddit — about Draco's wife being ill and dying. That's some incredible stuff. Draco being so loving and dedicated, standing up to his parents, so heartbroken when the person he loved died but still being a wonderful father to his son. It's like I discovered a whole new Draco to think about. It got me all inspired. It's everything I ever wanted for him, except of course his wife dying. So he got to save his seemingly terminally ill lover in Beholden, and got the chance to be a loving, tender husband I wouldn't dare to even imagine after finishing the books, as it would feel too OOC to soften him up to that degree.

It likely wasn't visible, but in my mind, Beholden is kind of a Cursed Child fix!it fic — for that tiny part of the story. I needed it so desperately, I actually finished and posted it.

I have a few more asks in my tumblr inbox, and I'll very happily answer them, but it might take some time.

[throughthebluesea]

°°••….••°°..••°°°°••..°°••….••°°..••°°°°••..°°••….••°° pairing: bada lee x fem!reader genre: slight angst but with a happy ending maybe? word count: 1.59k warnings: cursing. not proofread. °°••….••°°..••°°°°••..°°••….••°°..••°°°°••..°°••….••°°

echoes of voices inside the enclosed space can be heard right before she had left the room, and as the door closed, bada sighed before making her way to the locker rooms. it was yet another day with her calendar is filled with classes that takes up most of her hours in a day. she was never workaholic to begin with but she felt the urge to push herself into the brink of exhaustions for various reasons. even her colleagues in the industry has been worried about her current state but what does bada reply everytime one raises their concern over her situation?

"i am okay."

"i'll be fine."

and she would just shrug it off.

the female takes a quick sip from her tumbler as she makes her way to her next class but the staff stopped her and told her that most of her classes after that postponed and requested to move the dates. confused, she asked why and how did she not know this. The staff shrugged and handed her the outline of the new schedules. she sighs, already knew whose idea it is.

a few minutes later, she is in front of howl's desk, who looks at her with an amused expression on his face.

"you need to take a breather." that's what the male had told her, and bada answered with an eyebrow raised. "just because we're good friends doesn't mean i allow you to reschedule all my hard-earned classes without my fucking consent."

the male just chuckled and propped his elbows atop his desk. "what more do you want to prove? you're the most sought-after choreographer in the region. you have proven your worth, now you need to rest before you get burnt out. everyone knows it, EVERYONE."

"what do you mean?"

"you know what i meant."

the oreo-haired girl knew what he meant but she chose to ignore it and just sighed, dismissing the idea. "it's not even about her. i am doing this for myself."

"is it really?"

-

it took a good thirty minutes of exchanging reasons, bickering and such until bada finally submits to the male. and there she was, walking by the sidewalk, on her way to her flat. beneath the overcast night of the city, dim neon lights buzzed softly, their glow almost reflected the snow-covered streets. the city was bustling as it normally did despite the recent snowfall

cars honking, laughter coming from the hidden paths, and the occasional sound of a street musician strumming mellow tunes. never thought that bada would miss the scent of the city as she was stuck inside the enclosed dance studios she comes in. but now, bada was among the commotion, walking in silence, her steps being steady while her heart is in turmoil. it never did until that discussion with howl.

since she was a little girl, bada had loved all aspects of the big city but her favorite spot was that cafe, which happened to be in between the bookshop and the antique shop. aside from the dance studio, the certain cafe mentioned is where she finds solace. she spent her first hard earned money for a slice of cheesecake there, and everytime something good happens to her, the cafe is her go-to spot.

it was the same cafe where she met you on a similar snowy night four years ago. you rushed inside to shelter from the heavy downpour, and it so happened that bada is there, slender fingers wrapped around a warm cup of coffee she is enjoying, looked up as you burst inside covered in snow, shivering and panting. there are no vacant seats inside the cafe except bada's table, to which you went and claimed immediately.

just as you finally settled in, breathing calmed down, you apologized that you sat down without her consent, bada shrugged it off and told you not to apologize given the situation you're in, but instead offered her warm cup of coffee. much to your embarrassment, you refused to get her cup but bada insisted. it was then their friendship bloomed. at a certain day or time, they coincidentally meet. gradually, the more they talked, laughed together, and the more they filled the silence with their presences, they had created memories in that one corner, so much so that their connection had deepened like layers of a well-produced song.

it's an understatement that as their connection deepens, feelings began to grow.

but as life often does, they went their separate ways. you were given the opportunity to explore more of your craft. bada knew that you wanted to be a musician, and she was fully supportive with it. bada was left behind, of course, but the two promised to keep in contact. for the first few months, she had become a distant observer to your journey. you two had had pledged to keep in touch, yet as time goes by, and the messages they sent to each other became fewer and far between.

replies became colder, as to which the two didn't know why. but they went on their own lives. you became a well-known singer-songwriter while bada became a sought-after dancer and choreographer. while on the said industry you two have the chance to meet or cross paths, but you did well in avoiding each other.

-

tonight, the café was conducting an open mic session, a thing bada had not attended since you left. Hher unplanned intention was to come—it was easier to cling to memories than to confront their absence—however, there was this unique feeling in the air tonight. nostalgia successfully lured her to come close, thus she found herself sitting at the familiar table, with the aroma of coffee making her mind rest somehow. the oreo haired girl's fingers idly played with the brim of her cup, the same fidgeting movement she used to do every time she waited for you to arrive. it's different this time, knowing the opposite seat will remain vacant.

the evening passed by in a stream of voices and tunes. some of the performers were in their natural and unprocessed state, and others sang with a self-assurance that uplifted the gymnastics space. bada clapped gently, yet she is feeling upset inside. staying inside only worsened the bubbling thoughts inside her head, so she briefly stands up and was ready to leave. it was then the host appeared behind the backstage, approaching the microphone with a deep smile.

"ladies and gentlemen, we are pleased to announced that our special guest is here. please welcome, our very own… y/n jang!"

The place erupted with cheers, bada stopped from where she stood. her breath hitched and unconsciously clutched on her chest. before she can process everything, you entered the mini stage, waving at the cafe goers with the familiar sincere smile. you seemed more or less the same, but at the same time, different.

grown up, but still possesses that fire bada had recognized.

as you looked around, greeting the people who have come to see her, your eyes found bada's and your smile waned briefly. you cleared your throat and tightened the grip around the microphone. you moved it after, while you try to keep your cool, you leaned forward and spoke, voice calm and soft.

"i wrote this song with this someone in mind, this someone who had reminded me that even when days had gone by, some things stay with you.

the backtrack played, bada felt the first notes of the song which sent a shiver running down her spine. almost, as if by coincidence, the song felt like a memory. the lyrics uttered out from your lips felt like a reflection of love that refused to die, of tears and joy, and a love that continued to live throughout the seasons.

she noticed your vulnerability through your voice, every word uttered is accompanied by some sort of intense and unshown sentiment.

it felt like it was a song dedicated for her. bada didn't want to assume, but it felt like it.

the song kept going until her time on the stage ends and she received applause, commending her heartfelt performance.

the crowd slowly scattered away, leaving them standing face-to-face. for a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of years and unsaid words hangs in between them.

“Hi”, bada said, finally shattering the comfortable silence between them. your lips began to tremble, the emotions swelled inside you and before you can even reply, tears began to flow down your cheeks.

"the famous y/n jang is still a crybaby?"

she joked, which got out a chuckle from you.

-

the two settled on their familiar table, enjoying a cup of coffee. as they filled up with what they had missed on their lives. the hardships, the successes. it suddenly felt like it returned to their blissful days that had passed. there was silence still, but they tried patching it up slowly.

"i'm sorry, bada."

"for what?"

"for ending things like that. i should've done something to keep ourselves connected."

bada lowered her head. "it's okay, really. we have focused on our dreams and goals. don't blame yourself. i am at fault, too, you know.."

“I… missed this,” you said in a soft manner. "i miss you, bada."

and she missed you too, bada missed you too. she felt hope, suddenly believed that both can still retrieved what was lost between, and whatever they paused can be continued. along with the cup of coffee that thawed the cold lining between them.

maybe this time, things will work out?

[promptcontainmentzone]

FALLOUT: NEW VEGAS SENTENCE STARTERS. warnings for: guns, violence, death, murder.

What in the goddamn…?

Let's keep this in the groove, hey? Smooth moves, like smooth little babies...

Baby, the odds may look long, but that's just because we ain't done rigging them. I won't toss the dice until we are.

Look, I ain't a harbor for illusions. I ain't expecting to get out of this shin-dig alive.

Can you spell detention? I'll tell you how I spell it: DEATHtention.

You are in the LIBRARY. Be quiet here and filled with SHHHHH.

I am lord of this institution. Where once, long ago, I was a student here. Now, I am its OMNIPOTENT GOD-PRINCIPAL.

______, you're about to have your FAVORITE treat - a VISITOR. Won't that be nice? DON'T eat the visitor, boy. Don't. Please.

What YOU ask is of NULL importance! _____ besieges us, there are more important things to worry about than DATA and FACTS!

ENOUGH! Stop filling my precious brain cell units with irrelevant data!

And… I wonder why it didn't hit me before, until I saw that memory in your hands.

How gracious of you. A mannerly killing.

Can't have brains moving around of their own volition.

In short: Brains, a heart, and courage... spine. I think there was a story once where a band of murderous thugs sought these things.

The ghosts aren't real? That changes everything.

Baby, this little reunion of ours? Chalk me up as a no-show.

I'm familiar with the care and handling of explosives.

How hard can it be? Just light them and throw.

I'd love to debate you on this, but there's no time.

No way. I'm not going to torch myself for your amusement.

It would be pretty funny, wouldn't it? Oh, don't look at me that way. I'm sure you'll be fine.

_____ is dead - what a mess you've made!

There will be no repeat of the trouble we had last time, I trust?

Even now? On the brink of battle?

You'll need a disguise, then. Or overwhelming firepower. Whatever works.

You must be, like… a brain in a jar!

Frontal assaults on casinos? Not good for business.

You have an interest in this even if you're too stupid to know it. If you have an interest in breathing, you have an interest in this.

They have no idea what other cards I'm holding. It's a strong hand, believe me - I dealt it to myself.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It'd be like them to keep paperwork.

I don't have friends here.

We'll kill more with two of us.

You only trust strangers?

Besides. I was on break when it happened.

I want you to find something out for me. I don't know if there's anything to find, but I need someone to try.

Gonna be hard covering you when I can't move my legs.

Goddamn it! Don't sneak up on me like that. What do you want?

Let me aim that for you next time.

You're hiding something. Spit it out. You owe me.

You got no right asking me that. Drop it.

It's just something I'm not ready to discuss. With you or anybody.

That part of my life is over now. So is this discussion.

Must've been one hell of a miscommunication.

Yeah, well. That's how they wrote it up in the report.

Life has a way of punishing you for the mistakes you make. Big enough mistake, punishment can take a while.

You're like a switchblade stuck on flick.

Shhhh… we're hunting shitheads.

All this planning won't matter much when the bullets fly, anyway.

No sense trying to hold the past between your fingers when it's nothing but dirt.

That fucking monument outside?

Started? Took to it like a fish to water... well, if you know what a fish is.

What the hell is a fish?

They're like birds, except they stay underwater.

Anyway, I've seen pictures. One guy even had one above his bar in Redding, except it was made of Pre-War plastic.

Greetings, _____. The disappointment you are about to experience delights me.

Can I order room service?

Am I punching too much? I get carried away.

You mean like this melee weapon right here in my hand at this very second?

Are you talking to me, or a future _____ who is not already doing that?

He always does what he feels is right. Usually that's a great quality.

Sure, I left them. But that didn't mean I'd ever be free of them.

We always make enemies, never allies.

Hold on. I see something I want to punch.

But at least I got the chance to try. At least I know for sure that there was nothing I could do.

Wow, _____ is looking for you, huh? What do you think he wants? Bowling partner?

But… you don't have a "this is good news" expression on your face.

Well, welcome, then. I'm _____. I live in a hole in the ground.

Well that shouldn't be a problem for me. I can't afford anything like that.

I've heard they shoot lasers from their eyes.

I just kind of drift from place to place.

I'll be honest. You're the first person I've run across out here that looks like she can really handle herself.

Aw, you really know how to make a girl feel like a stray cat.

He was dead when I got there.

This better not be about the meaning of life.

Damn, son, you look like ten miles of bad road.

Are you following me?

I saved your life so I kinda feel responsible for you is all.

I'll let that slide seeing how you gotta mind full of vengeance for that no-good polecat and all.

Yup, but this is getting a might embarrassing - people are going to start to talk.

That's a puzzle, all right. I'm sure it's nothing.

What in tarnation was you thinkin'?

I'll thank you not to touch my plunder.

Meaner than a rattlesnake, ain't ya?

To the Bone Orchard you go!

Seems they made like a ghost.

Won't help you none to lay low.

The Boss is pretty clear on this. I can't let you in unless you're by your lonesome.

You did a super job wrapping things up! And I'm not just saying that because I have to!

Here's a print-out with some additional information!

What? Did you expect me to applaud your efforts to support a deranged warlord?

That wig is going to haunt my nightmares. Seriously.

That one… had a little kick to it. The poisonous kind of kick.

Ahh, that feels better. I might not die for a while yet.

Am I dead? Is this Heaven? Oh. Hi _____. Guess not.

Will the medical wonders of the post-apocalyptic world never cease?

Back to the tomb, I suppose. If you need me, et cetera.

Strange how dead bodies appear wherever you go.

As the old saying goes, two's company, but three's a small army. Okay, I'm paraphrasing a bit, but you get the idea.

Wait, wait, wait a second. What's going on? Am I playing Vergil to your Dante?

I've woken up worse places. Not many, though.

That's sounding dangerously close to a plan, _____.

Alrighty then, I'll just head out. Alone. By myself. Into the dangerous wastes.

If I buy it out there, I want twelve mariachi bands playing at my funeral. A medal might be nice, too.

I'm not exactly a mercenary, but taking out scumbags of this magnitude wouldn't cause me to lose any sleep.

Why don't you make like Odysseus and get lost?

For as lack of adornment is said to become some women, so will this place, without your presence, bring delight.

I've run out of witty ways to tell you to leave, so why don't you just go?

[randomly--accessed--memories]

Went through the RAM playlist and picked out all my favorite lines

I still don’t know who you are / I only know that I’m still lonely / That morbid sort where even company can’t cure me / And the more you reassure, the less I trust - Against the Kitchen Floor

All the king's horses and all the king's men / Couldn't put me back together again - All the King’s Horses

Make me pay for fucking up the rest of your life - AND I’M GONE

Take my identity / All the best parts of me / And mould them into what you want! - Another Tuesday Night

And it’s my problem if I have no friends and feel I want to die - Are You Satisfied?

A prison’s not always a dark place / With grey closed in walls and big loud chains / They can hide in the skin of a home - As Above So Below

Someday I will go back outside and see her, okay - Baby Hotline

Reborn / Reform / Twist my legs to one / And mind to none : Don’t leave me be / I’m a bathtub mermaid / I cannot swim but only sing - Bathtub Mermaid

I feel like / I never knew you / And I never wanna know you again - Better Off Gone

In this case, just won’t you go and please let it be / Because I still won’t be able to say sorry - Breaking Things Into Pieces

Tell me when to drink, tell me when to eat, tell me when to smile, tell me when to breathe / Tell me when I overreact / No, tell me again, please / I love being told what to do, but only when I'm told by you / At least, that's what I used to think, but nowadays, I'm on the brink - Cannibal

Take this pill, you'll feel much better / When you wake up numb and your brain's been severed - Careful What You Wish For

Take a good look this is me / This is what I’ve come to be - The Chattering Lack of Common Sense

They say they wanna help, but they always fucking leave - CODE MISTAKE

When did I become a man / Trapped inside a ghost? / If you could only see me now / I know I'd disappoint somehow - The Comfort of a Laugh Track

You'll be fine you honeycomb / Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so cold? - Community Gardens

I’ve become what you like / I am what you wanted, right? - Copycat

Stay asleep / And blame / Everyone for giving up - Cross

Oh, circumcise my love for you / It's far too vapid and aimless - Cupid

Under my skin, you're unwrapping / All that I am, I swear / I wanted to keep, I wanted to stay / Deep in your head forever / I wanna show you something / Melting through my brain / Every time you're around / You're assaulting me - D D D N N N A A A

Carved right into my head / Quick lobotomy / Then left me for dead - Dangerous

I don't think I know myself, without your help - A Dangerous Thing

Buried in the basement, cold cement / Dead comes talking, can’t put them to rest - The Dead Come Talking

So I’m taking your narrative, and I’m making it mine - The Dismemberment Song

I’m gonna be in love forever cause I’m gonna die tonight : Transformation complete, transformation complete / You are now, as you once were: beautiful - DOGMATICA

Well, who should I be then, if I'll never be the same? - Dr. Sunshine Is Dead

I’m black, then I’m white / No! Something isn’t right! / My enemy’s invisible, I don’t know how to fight - Echo

And so long to the person you begged me to be / He's down, he's dead / Now take a good long look at what you've done to me - Farewell Wanderlust

You hurt me / You hurt me / But it's all okay / Because I love you anyway : I have no clue what you’re saying / I’m gonna lose my mind! - Folie a Deux

I was shown my place, but I didn’t care for it - Gambler

I get to be dumb, you get to exercise control - GIRL HELL 1999

I’m not her / And I’ll never be / I’m just debris - Going Insane

You told me something along like / The lines of “It’s all my fault that you are the way you are” / That is right, it is all your fault / But I hope you just remember that it's not all there is to it - Heavenly You

A vivisection of me / Done by God for all to see - Honey I’m Home

Am I a toy to you, my love? / Just a thing to play and / Then throw away - A Human’s Touch

My love must be a kind of blind love / I can't see anyone but you - I Only Have Eyes For You

Me and the TV are enemies / Sickening static surrounds my mind - I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead

I've got you under my skin / I've got you deep in the heart of me / So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me - I've Got You Under My Skin

You say that I’m better / Why don’t I feel better? - Karma

Do I know who I pretend to be / Of whom am I a copy? - Language of the Lost

I only turned out to be just one more girl you slew - Let the Record Show

There’s an old voice in my head that’s holding me back / Well, tell her that I miss our little talks - Little Talks

You’re just a clown, just a pet / Whispering love yet again - Loveit?

Some moments last forever, but some flare out with love, love, love - Love Love Love

And now, even though you're mad, and these memories won't stay / That's okay / Cause now I get to meet you for the first time every single day - Marbles

Die once every three minutes - Marijuana’s a Working Woman

Doctor, I can’t tell if I’m not me - The Mind Electric

You want a taste of my brain / Okay, it’s yours anyway - Misery Meat

You were never my god - My Creator

The girl is like an architect / And I am just the new invention - New Invention

Please spare me indignity / And won't you please give me some decency? / And won't you please call it if our time is through? / Cause I know that we fall apart when nothing's new - Nothing’s New

I know exactly what’s best for you / I’ve don’t exactly what’s best for you - Novocaine

You're not a coward 'cause you cower / You're brave because they broke you / Yet broken still you breathe : Cause I'm not trapped, oh with you, you see / You're the one who's trapped with me / Cause you are in the earth of me / You are in the earth of me / My head's not yours, it's mine / And I'll take my fucking time / 'Cause I know, I know, I know - The Old Witch Sleep and the Good Man Grace

Novocaine, lobotomize me, teach me how to think - P3T

Safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils - Pet

What’s a pound of flesh between / Friends like me and you - Pound of Flesh

Folded puppets in a chest / Satin, static, lost in manic - Puppeteer

Close your mouth / And your eyes / And your heart / Your new eternity lies with us - Return to the Motherland

I get high to leave all these problems on the ground / Then to my surprise, they're right there when I come back down - Riptide

Look at me, look me in the eyes / Forget yourself, surrender your mind / Right now, you're mine / All mine / Give in, you're mine / All mine - Rule #34

Must be lonely loving someone / Try’na find their way out of a maze - Should’ve Been Me

There's something quite enjoyable when someone is destroyable - Sink or Swim

You hung me on your wall / Stabbed me with your push pins / In public, showed me off - The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

Now it sounds so good to me and it used to sound so good to me! / It doesn't sound so good to me, it never sounded good to me! - There’s Something Happening

This, this, this is not love / I don’t know what it is / But I know this / This is not love - This Is Not Love

You’d say that things have improved, right? - Those Who Carried On

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky / Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life - tolerate it

I know / You belong to somebody new / But tonight you belong to me - Tonight You Belong to Me

So she dressed me up as the man she loved / Then threw me in a box when she had had enough / Now the light of day I no longer see / She stuck her voodoo pins where my eyes used to be / Accidentally tragic / Victim of her black magic / Had a boy once who loved me / Now he's so afraid of me - Toy Boy

The things I see are a dread I must withstand / On my own - Uncanny

I don’t think there’s anyone under your skin - Under My Skin

I wanted someone tall and firm to reassure that I'm doing this right / But it's starting to hurt when you hold me tight - Unreliable

When I'm too far gone / Dead in the eyes of my friends / Will you take me out of here - Watercolor

Stranger things than death can happen / To lab rat girls and pretty white rabbits - …well, better than the alternative

And when you scream, "I'm not alright" / And throw my picture at the wall / You were supposed to be my light / And keep me safe against them all / "How could you leave me here?" you'll scream / And louder, I'll scream back to you from that unknown / And say, "I know you're strong enough, I know you're strong enough / I know you're strong enough to do this on your own” - Welly Boots

Transformation / You've changed within / Some selfish mutation / A stranger I once called a friend - What Have You Become?

My head is spinning, I am beaten in the end - White Happy

Just take me as I am / A memory so vivid / And savor all the parts you can / Cause no one mourns the wicked - Wicked

You don't have to say you love me / Just be close at hand / You don't have to stay forever / I will understand - You Don't Have to Say You Love Me

[tea-and-secrets]

god i just need to get this off my chest.

so essentially when I was super young, like.. 11, i faked my own death online, posing as a girl who was 15/16 or so, if i remember correctly. i don't remember why, i think i was genuinely on the brink or something, and decided that, yeah, it would be the best way to cope. i DID try and go through with it but i was also 11 and didn't know what to do or anything, and i was really embarrassed because i had caused so much pain to people over it. these people were so close to me though, so i decided i had to come back, using an alt and claiming to be a friend of that person.

along the road, there were a lot of other misunderstandings, but it was fine, i made new friends.

a few years later, i kinda lose it again, and i lie and use another alt account based off of my real life partner at the time and invite it to a server and 'date' her. made her really mean and everything too to my friends. i never meant what i said, but that doesn't excuse me behaviour. i was sorta clambering though, because after that, i lost.. basically everyone. i regret the confrontation because they did it at like.. 11PM my time, and i was scared and i was so fucking young and i didn't know how to deal with what was happening and so all i could do was put on that sort of smarmy "mature front" that most 14/15 year olds do. all of those people were way older than me too, by the way.

i'm clean now, somewhat, i guess. i'm older and i have new friends and they're the world to me but . day by day those circles are starting to crossover. two of my friends have gotten close with people from those groups, and i'm scared that one day it'll all fall apart. i don't know what I'll do then.

i don't really know what my new friends will think when they learn the details of what happened to me years ago, honestly.

it's not like everything is a lie, either though. i've gone through... so, so much outside of that. most of the things i lied about became truth as i got older anyways, but i still feel horrible lol

there's so much more to it but honestly i just regret everything. i've been living a lie for like six years and I'll have to keep it up. I've gotten help now, and as I matured and grew older, I left behind those attention seeking habits. i just wish the people i hurt would be able to see the person I've become today and realise i was barely a teenager when everything happened. i know it doesn't change the damage i did, by saying i was just a kid, but.. i still think it's still significant. i'm a stand up guy now and everything, too. i work in a field where i can make a difference directly, helping kids who were just like me when i was super young, and i started using my talents for good, i guess.

i doubt the people i hurt will ever recognise me or this but if they do i'm so fucking sorry for everything. you guys were genuinely some of the nicest people i had ever met and i had no reason to hurt you all like that. i was broken and i was unwell, but i should've asked for help rather than running away all those years ago. sorry for never coming clean to you directly about the start of my web of lies. i did end up losing my best friend like i said years ago but she wasn't the girl you guys knew. i want to leave and start again once I'm a little older now but.. that means hurting the solid foundation i have now. there's a lot more to this but, still.

maybe i should stop picking at the scab of the wound though and find it in myself to move on. thank you for reading i guess

.

[starry-nights12]

Despair

One Word Prompt (Jinx's Diary Entry)

CW:Brief mention of torture

══════════════════

My Ekko is an actor.

He loves to perform every day.

He pretends that he's fine to his community and presents them with a dazzling smile.

Everyone sat in box seats while I had front-row seats to everything he was going through.

They begrudgingly agreed to let me stay before I came here. That's how good of a leader he is.

Get their hated enemy to stay in their sanctuary all because he was in love with me to give me a second chance.

He didn't tell them that. I figured that was his other reason for having me after we started dating.

I didn't come here for their forgiveness nor expect them to even if I did care.

The crazy, sadistic, psycho they resented was the one to comfort him during his time of need.

When he was on the brink of despair I was the one that had to pull him out before he drowned in it.

Their cheerful leader told me about  violent ways he wanted to kill the chembarons and the enforcers.

I told him about Singed gleefuly operated on me when I woke up in the middle of the surgery. He wanted to join me in finding him and torturing him.

I know it's because he loves me. I also know he wants revenge on the man for creating the drug that ravaged our town.

Even though he loved his people and the secret community he created-he sometimes felt lonely. He missed all of us and wished they were here.

All these people do is take and take AND TAKE.

Never ONCE stopping to think that their beloved, respected leader needed help like they do.

The only worthwhile person here is Scar. We hated each other but eventually, he became our mutual friend.

I hate Heimerdinger the most. I'll never understand him letting a Piltie here.

Ekko has too much of a big heart. It's what I admired about him but also found frustrating.

I tucked him in and kissed his forehead. He's sleeping next to me right now.

Sometimes we both have restless nights. Our nightmares terrorize us and the only safe place was to stay awake.

He hadn't tossed and turned, his face didn't scrunch up, and he wasn't crying yet. I hope he sleeps peacefully throughout the night.

He just finished crying over Benzo and wanted me to comfort him. He hates Silco but lets me cry to him about it.

Uncle Benzo was his father and we both loved him. If I never grabbed those crystals I would have never met Silco.

We still would have had our Dads.

He doesn't blame me because we didn't know the fallout would happen.

He blames himself for even telling Vi. He feels like he ruined everything in our lives.

My poor, sweet angel.

It is my fault.

I'm sorry, Ekko.

I ruin everything I touch yet haven't managed to keep you so far.

That's what angels do. They're able to perform miracles.

He's my world.

He's the air that I breath

He's my everything.

If Ekko gets killed because of me then I might as well die too.

I'll only seal your death if I say it aloud but I love you.

I love you SO much that despite Silco scolding me, I let myself become weak around you.

You ARE my weakness.

He hates you for it.

You're my baby.

I love you unconditionally and want to take care of you. You're precious to me and I savour the time we spend together.

I love you, Little Man.♡

I love you.♡

I love you.♡

I love you.♡

I'll always be your girl just like you promised.♡

I'm yours just as much as you are mine.♡

Forever and always.♡

[ottiliere]

what are your go-to resources for phantom blood fashion historical accuracy...... ...

ok I'm glad you asked this because I've been writing up a whole other post on dio's fashion sense and i wasn't sure how much of the period's fashion trends to explain since I didn't want to make an assumption that nobody knows anything about late victorian fashion. this will be a good reference post for me...and you... and anyone else who wants to use it.

regardless; I hate to say it but the best way to start drawing period clothing is to do a little reading on the fundamentals of [late] victorian dress because it will seriously assist you in the long run, e.g., you won't have to scratch your head and spend time wondering why you keep coming across two different lapel types on tailcoat fashion plates if you're aware that both peak tips and shawl collars were in vogue in the late 1880s and the '90s.

I'll put some basic information that I've collected for myself here so you don't have to go looking for it; I'm going to write this assuming you're a newborn baby deer poking your nose into the victorian era for the first time in your life fully unaware of the customs.

reference links for the wayfarer so you don't have to scroll all the way to the bottom:

Etiquette books. Look for anything written in the 80s/90s; again, period trends change. There's usually always a section on how men should be dressing on different occasions (weddings, funerals, daily casual travel, etc.) in these. In an ideal world one would only have to reference books written/published in London, however I've found that there are many more from US. This is fine though IMO, there was a lot of cross-talk between countries due to the implementation of the telegraph and hence a lot of etiquette standards are "universal" (it's why fashion between EU/US/AU can look pretty similar at the same time--they were all talking to each other). If there's a difference between the "New York" way of doing things and the "London" way of doing things, the authors usually point this out. kind of funny. I love reading these, they're also very good for understanding the general quirks of late Victorian society and how the standards at the time characterize their behavior.

The National Portrait Gallery (link is an advanced search; you can change the dates. I set the results to be located in "london")

Victoria & Albert museum online gallery

The Met museum online gallery (in general for clothes on mannequins, but they also list an archive of fashion plates here, separated by year. A lot of them are misfiled though so be wary of that)

Alamy website. genuinely one of the most all-encompassing resources I've used, I use it for everything and especially when I'm into period pieces. "boy 188*" "man 1880s portrait" "man 188* suit" etc. you find a lot of illustrations from the time period this way too. it fucking rules. my computer is on the brink of crashing 24/7 because I keep too many alamy tabs open at all times. A lot of really good Vanity Fair illustrations are on here too, just plug it in with a year and see what pops up.

Sites like this (Gentleman's Gazette) with little articles giving a run-down of period clothing can be helpful...... to an extent. idk. I don't really trust them. GG is solid for the most part and so is The Black Tie Blog and Victorian Web, but I've spotted too many errors on other sites to trust anything they say wholesale. Fashion Institute of Technology is worth mentioning as well, though, despite their coverage on men's fashion being pretty brief. Goes by decade, though, with a lot of information on women/children's fashion, too (it's very interesting! I linked their 1880s fashion rundown, highly recommend going through it, especially the Aestheticism segment). TL;DR: My advice when it comes to website hopping is "stick with primary sources".

How to Read a Suit (A Guide to Changing Men’s Fashion from the 17th to the 20th Century) by Lydia Edwards. Look this up on libgen. It's broken down into chunks of decades; REAAALLLYY recommend reading the introduction to "Chapter 4: 1860-1899". Probably the most historically informative consolidation of relevant fashion information in one place. Very interesting writing, pretty short too. If you're gonna read one thing out of this whole list, make it this.

The Dictionary of Fashion History by Valerie Cumming. look this up on libgen. for when you don't understand what some article or book is talking about and google will not give you answers. as it is it wont to do. (could not wrap my head around top frocks until this point; the wikipedia article for it is quite frankly embarrassing.)

here's my google drive of fashion for this time period, I had just been keeping these on local folders but I think drive would be better so I started transferring them here... compiled myself. this is a "work in progress" and will be updated.

I am going to write a bit about men's fashion at the time period under the cut because I think it's important to understand, if you don't know much about the victorian period, that the dress decorum was heavily emphasized and if you wore the wrong ensemble in the wrong setting everyone WOULD think you were ill-bred and would not invite you back into their home again. because just seeing you exist like that was impolite and quite frankly very embarrassing to witness. these resources are great but not if you don't know where and when these guys would be wearing these things... for instance i know the fashion plate archive there are some drawings of men in livery and you may be tempted to put dio in something like this because WOW! they do look kind of cool. with the big brass buttons... but I think he would more readily batter another human being physically than dress up like a butler at a dinner party and get mistaken for a butler. it's the little things.

first thing: you were expected to dress differently for different times of day. This consists of: morning dress, afternoon dress (semi-formal; not really "mandatory" except at special events, like weddings, at least for men), and evening dress (anything past 6 o'clock or "by candle light" is the general rule).

here are overview excerpts from Modern Etiquette in Public and Private published by Frederick Warne and Co. in 1887:

and excerpts from The Complete Bachelor: Manners for Men by Walter Germain, written in 1896:

Cecil B. Hartley states in his Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politeness (1860) that "by dress we show our respect for society at large, or the persons with whom we are to mingle".

He advised men that there were “shades of being ‘dressed;’ and a man is called ‘little dressed,’ ‘well dressed,’ and ‘much dressed,’ not according to the quantity but the quality of his coverings.”

Black was "the" color. As Lydia Edwards writes in How to Read a Suit (2020), "while it is unrealistic to imagine that all men everywhere only wore black, the acceptable color palette was certainly more limited at this point than it had been for the first half of the century. The rising professional middle classes seemed to embrace a centuries-old association with black for certain professions, which perhaps made this an inevitable choice for the evolving and expanding world of work in the nineteenth century."

I'm going to add illustrations now; humbly request you ignore how terrible the paint canvases i threw things in. Things to note moving forward:

there were three different types of shirt collars in vogue at the time: stiff, high stand collars that hugged your neck, wing-tip collars, and one that's closer to the "regular" collars you typically see nowadays (banker collar). don't really see the last one in any of the fashion plates but you do see it in portraits.

Do note that walking sticks were commonplace and in fact expected to be touted around, hence why they (in addition to umbrellas) keep reappearing in the illustrations;

(1890)

Frock coats were the most "formal" of the daywear. When going through the National Portrait Gallery website you'll notice that most men are wearing either a morning coat or frock coat; the lounge coat was still too informal to be considered for how much money you'd spend to get a photograph taken. Don't you want to look nice?

Lounge suits, again, were the ultimate "informal"; they were viewed with distain by the frock-coat. (here's a good thread on this, actually; i love this fucking guy lol). really, really don't think Dio would be wearing one that often. maybe a double-breasted one? i really think he's too much of a snob to wear what he sees as filthy poor people rags. appearance is everything, etc.

~~~

waistcoats you have a lot of freedom/liberty with, at least in regard to design (except for evening waistcoats). different lapel shapes, no lapels... unfortunately shifting into the later decades of the 19th century it was pretty much expected that the fabric of your waistcoat match the fabric of your suit (along with your trousers; called a "ditto suit"). jonathan would conform to this mode IMO, i don't think it stops dio. he has a vision & his waistcoats are likely very extensively detailed. actually I just remembered that we do see one as depicted by araki's tenuous grasp of historical fashion and it is. awesome. i, too, love to wear cravats directly underneath my shirt

(1891 / 1892)

~~~

Evening dress is (comparatively) much more simple & men had much less artistic freedom in their choice of dress: black tailcoat, white gloves, white tie, waistcoat in either black or white, black button boots. Regardless, it was its own beast in the fact that this was something that you really weren't supposed to dick around with. (Dio would've found a way, but that's a discussion for a post that isn't crashing every 3 minutes.) From A Gentleman by Maurice Francis Egan (1893):

If a young man is invited to a dinner or to a great assembly in any large city, he must wear a black coat. A gray or colored coat worn after six o’clock in the evening, at any assembly where there are ladies, would imply either disrespect or ignorance on the part of the wearer. In most cities he is expected to wear the regulation evening dress, the “swallow-tail” coat of our grandfathers, and, of course, black trousers and a white tie. In London or New York or Chicago a man must follow this last custom or stay at home. He has his choice. The “swallow-tail” coat is worn after six o’clock in the evening, never earlier, in all English-speaking countries.

(1885 (misfiled) / 1888 / 1888 / 1890)

MET evening suit ca. 1888; different aspects of the ensemble displayed solo at this link.

In the 80s the "dinner jacket" ("tuxedo" in US) was introduced. It was used for more informal occasions.

final evening dress "tips":

~~~

Outerwear was pretty varied… you can get a pretty wide dynamic of form depending on choice of coat, so keep that in mind. chesterfields tended to be pretty formless, top frocks a bit more fitted. Length/density would change depending on season, too.

~~~

Children's fashion:

end notes:

everyone would be wearing suspenders, not belts; belts were pretty much only worn with military uniform at this time (except in america)

sweater vests were really only considered sportswear until the first few decades of the 1900s. they would not be wearing these casually under jackets, they'd be wearing waistcoats

button boots were buttoned using a special button hook. video demonstration

NOTE: trousers being "creased" began to be more in vogue in the 90s; this is because they finally invented the trouser press. read article for more information--you sometimes see creases in the 80s, really not before then though. look at how they bunch at the knee (c.1880s)!

When it comes to gloves, different colors denoted different occasions to wear them. In the text screenshots provided in previous sections, it usually states which colors are appropriate for whichever situation. The paragraph I am about to end this on is relatively useless, but I thought I'd include it anyway:

[sodaf]

one thing that pissed me off a bit was i was telling a friend months ago about how i feel empathy and was on the brink of worrying that I was a terrible person for it and he was like "maybe if you treat your depression that empathy will come back". turns out no i just feel empathy in a disordered way [long and interesting explanation that im not gonna include bc itll take too long to type on mobile but maybe I'll follow up bc I loove talking about myself] but it's fine bc i can still be sympathetic and kind to people regardless?? Even if i felt 0 empathy and 0 sympathy (not true for the latter though I do feel sympathy) i still do actions in real life to make people feel cared about so it doesn't matter what im thinking or feeling

[the-white-soul]

I'm apologizing because it feels like I can't do enough to him for you. I could kill him- I really want to- but even then I wouldn't be satisfied. I can't reverse what happened and that thought tortures me. He gloated about what he did to you. I couldn't stop daydreaming up more ways to hurt him the whole time John was talking.

I picked apart the bodies of all his backup in front of him, I cut his face, I threatened him with a vivid death, I belittled him, I stabbed him over and over in the pants until he was dysfunctional, I tied him to a raft so he was helpless, I threatened him again to toss him into the sea if he didn't shout sorries and beg to be let go, I nearly drowned him, scraped his face on the rocks and sand under the water, and I slammed him back onto land.

And yet it wasn't enough.

We can kill him still! Just like you said, we have to ruin his reputation first and get everyone to despise him as he deserves. The next time I have a word with him, I’ll prompt and record him talk about what he did. Then we'll play the recording everywhere we can. Especially for the other cops. We don't even have to be seen to do it. Just play it outside of sight like a prank. Then we watch as they break up and start to realize just how disgusting the person is who they consider a leader.

Once all the people who once trusted him throw him away, you can kill Jackby your own “hand.” I'll just watch by the side. *He then smiles gently, a rather mismatched expression for the topic.* The floor will be yours!

(Chara) "Flowey, that sound fucking awesome! Aim for the dick. Why didn't I think of that? Guess that doesn't matter as much as getting him to justice. Honestly, what I'd want more than anything is to see all of his followers turn their backs on him. That's all I've ever wanted. For people to see him as the jackass he is. I actually had a scar from one of his abuses. Right in my privates as well he had to get me to the hospital. If I could ask my past self one thing, I would walk up to them and beg them to tell the nurse what happened. I forget what story I made up but I believe it was about splits. It doesn't matter. I could've found so many outs. I don't want him to die a hero. If he does, I'll turn into more of a maniac than ever before. Consider yourself lucky Flowey. Of course, I wouldn't blame you for killing him. I'd be more mad at myself. I ran away so many times. He made me scared. He could pinch me down there, he could punch me in the face, he could even choke me a bit. All with the power of fear. He uses fear to get what he wants. Fear makes people powerful but the second they can't use fear they'll be destroyed. It happened with France and Russia, and I hope it'll happen with Jack. The bloody tyrant. *Looked at their blade.* Will live long enough to see himself become the villain. Come on Flowey, let's leave before people get suspicious. *They both start to leave the bathroom* One last thing I must say. If you have the power to do all of that, I'm in good hands! *They both walk out."

(Kara) "What have you two been doing? It's already almost time to go back into trial."

(Noelle) "We still have 20 minutes left."

(Kara) "We can never be late with this important of a case."

(Noelle) "What should we do to pass the time?"

(Kara) "IDK, Flowey please help! You know how to get everyone entertained."

(Noelle) "For better or for worse."

(Kara) "Dess, you and I both want this case to succeed. I want you to please get off his back."

(Noelle) "Fine, yeesh. Calm down a bit."

(Kara) "I'm sorry Dess. This is important."

(Noelle) "It's okay. You being on the brink of burnout aside, yeah Flowey probably knows what we can do."