#read this please. if it’s on your dash

[aureatchi]

USER MUSAMORA, you CANNOT js start the story off with "the fire of pyramus danced within its hearth" & EXPECT ME TO BE OKAY.

the dreadful need in the devotee — bungo stray dogs oneshot

content. f!reader. poetic prose, discussions of mortality and death, existentialism, suggestive themes, allusions to greek and abrahamic myth, romanticized unhealthy relationship dynamics, possible continuity errors. notes and translations at the end. not proofread. 3.8k+ words. ⟶ features fyodor dostoevsky. this work is a sequel to another oneshot! reading it's not a requirement, but is encouraged. this is also a collaboration with @yonseibananamilk! please check out her half of the collab ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

would you like to see more? fill out the taglist or comment under this post.

The fire of Pyramus danced within its hearth, the crackles a plea for freedom. Wooden shelves shimmered in a spectrum of amber hues. The light married abstract shadows with the spines of ancient books, stories lost to civilizations no historian could neither name nor describe. However, the harsh rays softened as they reached the two huddled on a sofa in the corner.

The domestic flame of your shared nocturnal nook chiseled at your features. Meadowed plains melded into the hills of your cheeks before they dipped back into low valleys nestled on the cusp of your nose or at the curvature of your cupid's bow. Fresh streams fringed the waterline of your eyes, fluttering lashes portraying the underbrush that beckoned him, barely obscuring the mystery hidden beneath the murky brook. Such a delicate canvas, framed with messy hair, made his sick heart thump at such vulnerable dishevelment.

You drank every word of your book with reverence while he could hardly focus on the one he held. The careful movement of your fingers as you turned the page tainted his thoughts into fantasies where they instead traced the expanse of his skin—it was repulsive.

But he dreaded an infallible demise the moment you chose to lay against him, not a thought to the difference in your stations. That heated sensation of unfamiliar tenderness, shrouded from the world, only to be acknowledged in an unimportant room in an unimportant place, thumbed him with a sentiment he could not adhere a title to. You were powerless in the scheme of everything that enveloped you, yet held no regard for fear or fate.

Instead, you smiled.

He hid the quiver of his limbs as his finger brushed the underside of your chin. Your face craned upward, and he realized he had been parched for a taste of the features he had so painstakingly mapped to memory. Your eyes closed with leisure as you leaned into his touch and—

He cracked his eyes, unable to open them as they strained to readjust to the merciless glare of his monitors, their caustic luster a stark contrast to the imprisoned fireside of his daydreams. His muscles cried out when he stretched. The quiver in his limbs recurred in spasmodic vibrations, worsening the cramp of his hands as he flexed them. It was a relentless ache that had become all too familiar to him.

You were a distraction. He had lost whole minutes of time to fanciful delusions with you and that damning grin of yours at the center. In his preparations, he toyed with the idea of dispatching you to a remote location outside the ire of societal destruction before ridiculing himself upon further examination. If another one of his subordinates had become such an issue, he wouldn't have hesitated to snuff them out—you had to be the human incarnate of temptation, the ultimate test of his faith.

Men who had traversed the path before him did not do so without trial. He had scrutinized the warnings their stories contained—Adam, Samson, Saul—men who had strayed from their noble path only to lose their kingdom. Fleshly pleasures lured many a good man to condemnation, for how could such sweetness be considered a mortal sin?

The fallen had once been beautiful creatures of virtue, and you were but a testament to the scars left in their descent. It was temporary—you and the fragmented thoughts your presence created would pass in years' time. He only had to be patient.

A knock at the entrance to his workspace interrupted his internal toil.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?"

Patience would be easier said than done.

"Not at all."

Because you dissipated thought and reason from his frenzied mind the moment you blessed him with even a mumble. Your voice was the otherworldly harmony that strained atop his ballad of misery. Not the corrupt inflections he had become accustomed to over centuries of time, but rather a sincere, artless tune that only he was ordained to hear and that he alone could descry. He would only admit one fact—human companionship was a merciless mistress.

For he knew you were your happiest at his side as his right hand, but he could not understand the reason—it brought harm to your so-called "doorstep," and the workload was laborious at best. But even in this isolated instance, when the crooks of your smile didn't entirely brush the banks of your eyelids, a noticeable ease settled in your bones at the sight of him hunched over a desk. An ease he returned, albeit underneath the veil of his carefully crafted mask.

"The preparations for the cannibalism event are almost complete," you continued, maintaining an unusual manner of professionalism as you handed him a set of stapled documents and receipts. "I just need to receive your approval before sending out the orders." His eyes crossed each section without too much consideration for their actual contents, affirmed in his trust of your intellectual capabilities when it came to outlining critical components of his plans with the ire of a scrutinizing eye. 

"Thank you. These will do."

This was usually the time that you would dive head-first into a heated discussion about the latest novel from his collection or scurry off with a courteous farewell to complete the enormous amount of tasks you often procrastinated, but instead, you lingered. Your brows furrowed, locked in contemplation as your eyes stalled on his screens—schematics for his future "trip" to the European detention facility, Meursault. He cleared his throat, which luckily broke you from your daze.

"It'll be weird." You ran your thumbs across your knuckles, teasing at your bottom lip as you shifted from foot to foot. "Moving to a new hideout, I mean." The palms of your hands shifted to skim the dust and grime-coated surface of his barren shelves, toying with the clumps of debris that gathered on your fingers as your mind returned to its baseline. What did your thoughts stray to in times when they left you stranded, out of his reach, as they became more challenging to discern? He could only pray, in some twisted part of his dark mind, that they were a reflection of his own—then maybe those fantasies could be justified.

Outside his internal ramblings, he hummed lowly, acknowledging the truth behind that sentiment. Neither of you shared an attachment to the four walls that surrounded you—it was no home. It held none of the warmth or affection such a term required, though the idea of a home was foreign to you both.

Under those clouded waters, your eyes held a look he both adored and disdained. That muted hesitation had returned, like a criminal stood on trial, unable to utter a word of the truth lest they condemn themself. And you knew too much and said far too little. If you would surrender to your impulses, push him or pull him close so that, in some fashion, his conscience could be alleviated and he could refocus—but it seemed you were stuck within the same cycle of indecision.

You parted your lips, faltered, and closed them again, second-guessing yourself as you fiddled with your fist. But upon further inspection of your nervous disposition, he spotted an object that had been hidden in your back pocket. A book. He raised a brow as you slowly pulled it out.

"You've offered me so much reading material in the past." You handed him the book. Its cover was weathered and cracked; a once vibrant hue faded into a dark, timework brown. The delicate, diaphanous golden letters that spindled across the spin dulled with age but continued to catch onto the fluorescent light. "So I thought I'd return the favor. It's a book I've had for as long as I can remember."

"Poetry?" He couldn't withhold the amusement in his tone. You were such an adorable little woman—his heart squeezed in indescribable fondness at the incredibly fitting genre. The book cradled in his hands was even more charming, if possible. Several translucent tabs and disorder marks stacked the contents of the book, defining a distinct difference from his own analytical annotations. Part of him wanted you to leave sooner so he could delve into the contents away from distraction and be allowed to soak up every delectable notation.

"For wherever you plan to go. I hope you might find some use out of it." Your face softened. "I know it's helped me."

He huffed but knew that he was ultimately endeared. "Thank you, моя дорогая. If you enjoyed it, I'm certain I'll find it an enticing read."

A tremor trickled down your spine at the unexpected sound of his mother tongue. His thick accent sounded like velvet to the ears, but you quickly nodded and sent him the courteous farewell he had initially expected—but he couldn't allow you to leave without answering one more question.

"Which one should I read first?"

You paused, prodding the question around in your mind. The answer you stumbled upon was bold, and you contemplated your choices as your nails methodically drummed across the doorway's threshold. It was a risky choice, but one you had to take.

"Browning's Sonnet 22." Your expression could have locked him there for eternity. "It's my favorite."

And you left. You left, and indecision haunted him once more.

An abhorrent, unsightly torpor flooded within him like the Neva itself, the warmth of the Russian summer smearing any presence of intellect or acumen from his person. His limbs lay heavy from the sweltering heat as the underbrush tickled at his perspiration-laden skin, allowing him a momentary reprieve as he observed the breeze push against the bountiful flora that edged the bank of a creek older than he was in a homeland he had no way to return to.

"Федя."

He roused from the rush that engulfed his body and replaced his idleness, his mind ravenous at the mere whisper of such an intimate, almost forbidden name. Soft hands replaced the roughened roots of creekside plants, trailing his arms until their owner came into full view, beckoning him to lean forward with the purse of your lips.

You were somehow even warmer than the summer sun, and he melted like a tempered candlestick at your sheer touch, lips chasing your own as you drew away with a smirk and a laugh. The collision of your bodies onto the hardened ground drew the breath from his lungs, but he allowed himself to find it once more in your embrace, nose buried in your neck as he resisted the urge to indulge in mortal temptations and simply allowed himself to revel in the innocent embrace.

"Федя," you cooed. Your hands roamed the expanse of his hair, outlining the edges of his nape in a rhythmic motion that started to lure him into a dreamless sleep. 

That was until the sensation started to fade, and he felt the familiar stomach-dropping sensation of falling. His eyes shot open as the idyllic naturistic scene dissipated from view to leave a void. Only you remained, but he paled as even you started to fade, reassuring him with a pitiful smile that he had become far too acquainted with.

"I'm sorry, Федя. You'll have to go one without me this time."

Your presence melded until your touch was like the chill of an algid frost—it was like the expiration of a dying star, crumbling in on itself until it rematerializes once more. From dust, you came, and to dust, you shall return. The contact was the biting notion of where and who he was, with every incapability and flaw that marred his flesh. It whipped at his skin, burned at his eyes.

He shook as you slipped through his fingers, drifting out of his grasp as he looked around for something to hold onto, anything to help either of you escape from—

"That must be a pretty good book you've got there."

The blinding aura of his circular cell was not a sight he wished to become accustomed to, the chamber he had been "forced" to occupy with the French prison. And to his utter dismay, it had been the lousy half of the Port Mafia's former Double Black that had stirred him from his waking nightmare, Osamu Dazai. The bandaged man looked like the cat that had caught the rat; his eyes narrowed as if he had finally pinpointed the Russian's weakness. An unseemly smirk drew across his pale face.

"You've been staring at the same page for the past five minutes, Fyodor," the detective crooned, splayed on on his bed with his head dangling at the side at an uncomfortable angle, almost like he wasn't locked in a high-stakes match of chess. "Your eyes haven't moved an inch. Leaves me to wonder what could possibly be so enticing about that book. You should lend it sometime!"

"I'm simply concerned for the well-being of your fellow agents," Fyodor sneered cooly, allowing his demonic mask to slip back on with his signature smirk. "I just can't help but worry for them. I'll be sure to pray for a swift, painless demise."

"Hmm, I'm sure."

But the suspicion of the detective didn't matter. Fyodor had ensured that you had no connections to one another, and your identity was completely erased once you went underground years prior. So, for the time you remained hidden, you were safe, and that terrible concoction of his mind would not come to fruition. You were in the midst of correcting course on any minor deviations from his plans if the smoothness of his operation was a testament—but in other moments between consciousness and sleep, he wondered if you shared these same thoughts. The split seconds that expanded into hours of dreams he wished never to wake from. 

He couldn't help but linger on the horrific scenario that cast an ever-present shadow over his every thought. It was a possibility, and he shuddered to think of the notion that it would someday become a reality. But this was his one opportunity, and he wouldn't waste it.

He glanced down at his book. In truth, he wasn't much impressed by the pages anymore. This was one of the many books with copies in his personal collection, but it lacked the vitality he had become attuned to. It had been your book of poems that revitalized him, yet he was unable and unwilling to bring such a valuable item into a place such as this. He would not risk the desperation of his opponent at finding his weakness, nor the capabilities of the Special Division for Unusual Powers in finding a connection to the book's owner—so it was contained somewhere safe and sound, where no one else could find it.

That book had opened a separate world that consumed him, body and soul. But that poem that you had recommended—you were quite the romantic, weren't you? His face had flushed during his first reading and the several times after it, though your annotations were even more telling. But it only made the pressure on his heart increase, and he swore it would implode. Perhaps that was an underlying medical condition of his previous host.

And for the first time in centuries, he wasn't quite sure what he would do when he saw you again.

You dislodged yourself from the rubbled remains of the airport, fortunate to have been located further from the destruction Ame-no-Gozen created. The walls around you stood firm, but the roof caved in from pressure above, leaving only a sliver of room to escape to the intact remainder of the roof. Your hands ached and blistered with every inch of your ascent, halted as you took time to cough out the debris that generously clustered at the bottom of your lungs. You looked utterly worse for wear but couldn't find the time to mind given the circumstances.

After what seemed like hours of excruciating climbing, you made it to the top—but, of course, the fabric of your pants decided to snag onto a metal panel that had stubbornly remained intact.

"Oh, come on," you groaned, sitting down to tease and tussle with the ornery piece of cloth. It had been a restless last few weeks, and you simply wanted to sleep. You huffed as the shrapnel decided to release its grasp on your pants, but as you were about to stand back up, you took notice of the shadow before you.

There he was.

You could recognize Fyodor's striking eyes anywhere, even when he was clad in the attire of a fresh body without his signature hat and cloak, but you found that you didn't care much for the finer details when he was finally in front of you. His presence had formed a vacancy in your everyday routine, and for the first time in years, you found yourself completely alone. Even when there was work to be done and plans to create, the majority of his usual subordinates were killed as collateral—not that they had even been much company. But would you be forced to fall into the same line?

The question nauseated you, but you had known the possibilities when you took his hand for the first time. If there was a time for you to part ways, whether at his accord or your own, this would be it. This was your crossroads. But you knew as you slipped your hand into his, outstretched for you to take, that he wouldn't be letting go. The grip he had held you like it was a sin to part. It seemed your fears were unfounded since when you slipped your hand into his own, outstretched for you to take, you knew he wouldn't let you go. The grip he had held you like it was a sin to part.

You stood with his help, a contemplative tilt to your brow—but you couldn't stand the silence that continued to persist. So, in the echoes of his formulaic destruction, you allowed yourself to breathe. A release of that suspension and hesitation, unfurling your burden as you lifted your aching hands to cup his face, delighted in the widening of his eyes at the unbalanced scale between you tilted to the other side.

"Федя," you spoke, the sensation of the word foreign to your lips. A spark returned to his eyes as if you whispered the secret to raise him from the dead. "Are you alright?"

The wind rushed through him, breath tumbling with the breeze as it coasted along the metal platform you stood from. Despite reason pleading with him to run from your proximity, he instead chose to intertwine his fingers with one of your hands. He pressed kisses into the curve of your palm as he lined every scar and bruise with a tenderness that soothed your aches.

"I am."

He didn't need to utter another word—your brief separation had only strengthened your unified understanding of one another, with each crying gesture serving as the final touch. No more trials. No more secrets. The look in his eyes was one of stories. Eyes that had witnessed every dismal aspect of human nature, both in the past you shared, and in the past he traversed alone. But they had become worthless stories to him; the minuscule glimpses of resolution that had served as a sign from God of the promised end turned into the delusions of a desperate man as he found the reflection of the end in front of him—you. In every step he took since your destined encounter, you had been what he was searching for. His hope. His future. His reality. That fraudulent resolution was no longer at the end of a perilous tunnel but right before him.

You understood that the intimacy of your "relationship," with whichever label others tended to tack it with, could never be shared with another soul. Those voiceless, indulgent whispers and subtle, crinkled smiles were mere productions of your shared devotion. But more so, the hummed resonation of your souls spoke the loudest. They had remained empty for such stretches of time, so neither of you knew what to make of it when you somehow poured from your empty cups into the creation of a fulfilling bond. Your only comfort was the notion that this—this was the reason you were created. For each other.

He remembered the moment he laid eyes on you, the sensation that his long-time friend had turned foe, death no longer a temptation out of his grasp but a certainty he could not shake. Your straightforward disposition beckoned him, and he then understood why he had been made with a capacity for love despite acting as the immortal incarnation of its antonym. He had never once felt a need for fruitful devotion, not to some unseen voice from the skies, untouched by the heart and mind of humans, but instead for the one person who would take his heart to the grave with them.

He was immortal, whether by chance or fate, but it was your ability to shake off the temptations of fear that immortalized you in the end. Never once had you allowed your rift in mortality to halt the blossoming kinship between you, prodding at the walls of his solid foundations until they cracked and eroded over time. Fyodor chuckled—he thought he had a capacity for patience, between you were a godsend in comparison. He was the proclaimed "Demon of the North." The man sent to spread the wrathful will of God across the nations. So it was no wonder he had been so tempted when met with a force of benevolence, one which he had rarely witnessed and never known. He could never claim to be worthy of mortal worship when a creature like you stood before him.

You shivered at the sudden touch of his hands as they traveled across the exposed skin of your waist, soft despite his habits. They traced the contours of your figure like a sculptor transfixed on the finest marble. Time had not been merciful in his centuries alone—but it stilled for this moment. For the moment your lips met, and your odyssey was finally over. The spread of his touch was revolutionary, roaming with a cardinal fervor within this wasteland of human misfortune. It sparked a revolt within your mind—your union was taboo, but nothing had ever felt as destined to be.

The muscles of your face tendered as his thumb outlined the brushwood of your lashes. Your eyes drifted shut in a manner that wordlessly pronounced your insomnolence. He kissed a smile against your forehead as you parted, cradling your face as if you were his world. This was an intimacy that could not be replicated, and his mind shattered at the notion of loss.

"Never wander somewhere I can't follow," spoke the desperate man.

You flashed him a cheeky grin. "You won't be able to leave if you want me to stay."

He leaned in, lips close enough to brush. "I won't leave. Not ever again."

And he dipped back in for another taste, addicted to the ambrosial quality of your lips as he buried himself in the shrine of your arms. 

дорогая = dear федя = fedya

TAGLIST: @ruru-kiss @miloofc @osarina @meiluvrr @suru1990 @honeymoon38 @saeandscaralover @dazaisms @v4mpash3 @coffeeofsamu @just-another-crack-artist @snowsilver2000 @chyozai @justcallmesakira @little-miss-chaoss @himikoslove @osameowdazai @deepseafragments @aureatchi @tirasamu @kelperspelt @squigglewigglewoo @lovesick-fairy @zyilas @ishqani

a fyodor fic! very original for me, i know. nana and i planned out this collaboration months ago, and were luckily able to schedule it for the chapter release. again, please go check out her side of the collaboration! speaking of chapters, that update was certainly something. i'm intrigued to see the further development of atsushi and akutagawa through the end of this story arc, since it feels like they've switched roles in regards to the desperation, if that makes sense. and, of course, it was interesting to see fyodor express such strong emotion in reaction to atsushi, and i'm excited to see it unfold in the next installment! feel free to discussion discourse below :D

© MUSAMORA 2024 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[piningpercussionist]

HELLLPP I WAS SHOWING MY SISTER STUPID FUCKING SCOTT PILGRIM MEMES AND I MENTIONED GIDEONSUGGESTIONS' "GIDEON X READER HEADCANONS" POST AND WE JUST:

"Gideon?"

Graves.

"Like. Gideon?" (Said with the inflection of Gideon from Gravity Falls)

Graves. Gideon GRAVES.

(She gives me side eye.)

GIDEON GRAVES. HE VAPORIZES YOU. I AM LITERALLY SHOWING YOU A SCOTT PILGRIM BLOG RIGHT NOW.

"OHhhhh! I'm sorry, I'm stupid today."

I can't with this fucking girl 😭

[decaflondonfog]

writerly ephemera

a few years back my darling friend @the-starryknight started a tag game inspired by a chat we had in a writing server regarding all the little personal details we add to our art. humans hold so many things close to their hearts without even realising, memories, artefacts, places, turns of phrase... lots of precious little bits and bobs i adore! recently i had a chat with the lovely @billdenbrough about the familiar fear of putting a little too much of yourself into a character — when do you cross the self-insert line? but also, aren’t these the things that make our characters human? which got me thinking about starry's tag game. so i've decided to bring it back! here's how we're doing it:

✨ share some bits little bits of you, easter eggs, memories, etc. you have left scattered in your fics or art. if you fancy it, tag a pal. ✨

i apologise in advance for the ridiculous amount of yapping you’re about to read aaaand here are some silly little mari-isms i’ve let bleed into my writing:

🏡 "The house is a ridiculous thing that could easily sleep a whole Exy team, but when Kevin questions it, all Andrew does is shrug and say, “This wasn’t exactly planned, it’s the best I could find with the time I had.”"

geometric equilibrium has a few mari-isms in it. abby's house is based on my friend emma's house too but this feels the most relevant: the house in Asheville is based on a place i stayed in a couple of years ago! the real life one isn't in Asheville, though it is in NC. i spent a really happy week there with friends and it just popped into my head when i was writing this fic. the setup of the rooms (kevin's and andreil's being across the landing from each other) was useful for what i want to write (as well as the bathroom placement!) so i just ran with it.

🪩 “…the faded band t-shirt two sizes too big that the redhead has tucked into a leather mini skirt. Instead of the usual pair of boots, Neil’s wearing a pair of platform sneakers in black and white.”

ahhhhh kaleidoscope :’) the fic where i genderbent all the monsters and then turned neil into my wee dress up doll! all of neil’s outfits were based on stuff i own and this particular one was a fave during my clubbing days. the only thing i didn’t own when i wrote this fic were the black and white trainers which i now own hahaha

🛁 “Bitty cuts himself a generous slice of pie and eats it in the bath.”

i haven’t lived in a house with a bath for three years and i miss it dearly. i used to have pudding and booze in the bath on hard days and it was super therapeutic — honestly i was just living vicariously through bitty in growing pains

🌸 “There, in the corner, not covered by the laundry that Kevin didn’t put away, is a vintage armchair (…) It’s pink, with old, spoiled velvet, and half of the fringes at the bottom of the chair missing.”

approximately eight years ago i walked past an antique shop and fell in love with a pink velvet toad chair with a wee fringe at the bottom. i didn’t think i could afford it but told my partner i was going to try and convince the shop to let me rent it for a photoshoot. i got home after work one day and my partner had bought it for me 🥹 that chair has now been with us in four houses across three countries and used to be one of my late dog’s favourite nap spots. (the fact that i let kandrew desecrate the chair completely in do not disturb the cats was… a choice lmaooooo)

🪡 “Jean comes back to California after five weeks with the Foxes with his hair slightly too long and falling into his eyes, a smattering of fresh freckles over the bridge of his nose, and a new hobby.”

oh this might just be my favourite! when i saw @alcego’s prompt for t&n last year i kneeeeew it had to be mine. giving my Sad Wet Cat blorbo all of my craft hobbies? what a delight! the best part is that out of all the crafts i made him try in transferable skills, book binding (arguably the main one) is the one i never tried

does anyone want to share? i'll pass this along to the folks tagged above and also @vykio @rwnjun @storiesnstardust @greenautumnleaves @djhedy @thetrojeans @seasy33 @nanatsuyu and @sillyunicorn ❣️

[niko-jpeg]

Heavy breathing. 6 days to go. You are NOT ready for the Big Bang going boom.

[sanguine-squid]

i hate the word problematic so bad i think im going to throw up

[rapidhighway]

awesome long post about sonic and shadow you love finished by mentioning untagged sonadow in the last sentence to piss you off

[eclipsecrowned]

one of the things i love in superfluous/'this doc could have been a discord ban' c*llouts is when you almost inevitably hit the point 'and then this person started acting neurodivergent on main, and i took that as a personal attack on me and my bloodline--'

[serandipity]

☢ What fads/trends are you so over?

Salty af munday meme

I’ve been saying this for upwards of like 7-8 years now, but the tendency for people to format their text to make it pretty yet unreadable. It’s so hard to read replies that are littered with unnecessary spacing, strike outs and changes in text style. I’m mobile a lot so sometimes that stuff doesn’t even show up on mobile so half the reply is just missing. :/

[bodrewritten]

Daughter of Discord Rewritten Chapter 22: My Love Is Alive

2:30 Pm / CW: descriptions of a meltdown, comfort. Stay tuned for a bonus chapter with an epic surprise. Read tags

When the young couple floated back to the ground, their lips were still locked. The world around them had returned to normal, save for the blizzard. Discord was standing up.

"okay ya crazy kids, come up for air!"

When the pair finally pulled away, Mothball was smiling like an idiot.

"Wow!"

His eyes spun in circles and hearts beat in his eyes. This made Screwball giggle. Her friends rushed to her side and embraced her.

"That was amazing!" Apple Blossom shouted.

"Heroic!" Cinnamon twist added.

"Cool!" Doodle palooza piped.

"Romantic!" Dinky sighed.

Autumn Glory lifted her head from below dinky. "Major league epic."

Dinky got off of her friend, giggling. "Whoopsie!."

"So you guys aren't mad at me?" Screwball asked hopefully.

"Yeah, w-well," maple Cinnamon said, putting his hoof to his bandaged head. "You s-seemed to learn y-y-your lesson."

Meanwhile, Mothball was twirling in circles, lost in the memory of the bliss he had just experienced.

"Uh oh," Apple Blossom chuckled. "Screwy, I think your kiss did more than save the world. You've made the poor boy all loopy!"

"like some sorta poison frog!" Cinnamon twist laughed.

The group laughed. Screwball broke their hug and walked over to her coltfriend. She put her hooves on his shoulders to stop him from falling over. Mothball then returned to his senses, only to get lost in her hypnotic swirls.

"I'm proud of you, Screwy."

They turned toward Twilight, who had her horn back.

"I guess I was wrong, you really didn't have to choose. Between loves, I mean." She immediately told spike to write it down.

Rarity dashed to hug her girlfriends, kissing rainbow dash passionately, the only warmth around the mare. She glanced towards Applejack, who only looked towards Autumn Glory. Applejack seemed withdrawn. It made Rarity feel distant again.

Mothball blushed nervously. "Grand duchess...I know I've done some bad things in the past, but I swear I'll be careful around ponies! I can become a vegetarian and live on chocolate!"

Twilight laughed. "You are pardoned, Mothball." She looked at screwball's family.

"I don't think you'll starve anytime soon."

The unicorn's mirth diminished when Discord stepped in front of her. Mothball shrunk under the draconequus' strict glare. His arms were folded and his face wore a frown. The changeling clung to Screwball for leverage. She gave him a reassuring squeeze.

Discord glanced between the two. Neither said anything for a long while. Then he sighed and extended his paw towards the changeling.

Mothball looked at it unsurely. He glanced at Screwball, who was grinning excitedly. She let go of him and nudged him toward Discord's paw. The prince gazed up at the draconequus. His face softened to one of happiness.

"put'er there, son!"

The changeling slowly raised his hoof and placed it in his paw. As soon as they made contact, Mothball felt a bolt of electricity and shook uncontrollably.

Discord started laughing and revealed the joybuzzer in his paw. He clutched he pulled the poor boy into a hug. The Pie family was laughing as well, as was Screwball. The others either giggled or just grinned in amusement.

Mothball looked at his marefriend in confusion.

Screwball chuckled as she patted him on the back. "that's his way of showing that he likes you!"

The changeling looked at the others. Cinnamon twist gave him a shrug.

"It's true."

"t'aint wrong."

"I still have the mark on my hoof."

Mothball then found himself snickering. He still didn't get it.

Screwball left Mothball and ran to her parents.

"Mom!"

The couple pulled away and opened their arms for their daughter. Fluttershy weeped at the sight of Zany.

"Oh, my baby!" she cried. "I thought I had lost you!"

"Our family," Discord sighed, "together at last!"

"Promise me we'll never split up again?"

The draconequus shook his head with a laugh. "Never."

Mothball smiled as the family embraced each other. He was happy that they were whole again, but it also made him sad. The changelings were the only family he had ever known. Now that he had left them, he had no one. He did not even have a place to live.

Then Fluttershy noticed Mothball. She was surprised to see him here, but given the fact that Discord had not vaporized him, she figured things were sorted out between them now. She reached out her hoof toward him. Mothball beamed as he took it and she pulled him in.

Pinkie Pie blew her nose in a handkerchief.

"It's so beautiful!" she cried.

Then she smiled suddenly. "Hey! Why the blizzard in summer?"

Crap.

Everyone looked onward to the horizon line, beyond the mountains. There, windigos raced towards the village.

Something was almost irreversiblly wrong in the relationships with the ponies if they hadn't begun to talk.

The bunkers opened, only to be met with walls of snow.

"Did we miss anything?" Cadence inquired. She had just arrived in ponyville. Princess Celestia and Luna took care of the diplomatic relations in Canterlot.

"quite a bit! Windigos across the mountains!"

The sky was a mourning grey, blistering cold, freezing the tips of their limbs. Crystalline ice formed on the surfaces of everything, sprinkled like glitter on the face of the scowling town.

"screwball, what is happening?"

"WINDIGOS ARE REAL?!" Screwball shouted to her mother! Her eyes were wide with shock.

Why wouldn't they be? They detected the war, drawn in by the bloodshed and now they galloped to consume everything in their sight.

"b-but everything is better now! This shouldn't be happening!" Rainbow dash exclaimed.

Rarity yelped as the wind picked up. Rainbow dash couldn't fly in this wind, not as well as she usually would. Her wings unfurled, but dash almost fell over.

"Applejack! Please! Go get her!"

Applejack stood still in fear, confusion, and...

Twilight tried to rally crowds of ponyville citizens back into their basement, but they screamed, hurling their worst at mothball.

"he did this!"

"spawn of evil!"

Mothball covered his ears. Everything felt like it was being pelted at him, making him angrier, more frustrated, unable to express anything out. Mothball grit his teeth and thrashed at anything, anything to release the steam building up, and The fire around him.

Shouting, yelling, screaming, screech, the blizzard of stinging, the ache in his exoskeleton, the aggravating, irritating tinging of their every breath, crack, shatter, thump, repeat, repeat repeat.

Mothball couldn't help but cry, couldn't help but push out every tear hoping the repeating screams of contempt just goes away. The dull ringing in his ears attempting to muffle everything never worked. Suddenly, he was scooped up and brought somewhere near silent. Still, like a water lily. He was tightly wound up like a little grub baby.

Mothball was under a weighted blanket, hugged tightly under pale yellow hooves.

Mothball's ears were covered with thick earmuffs. He wanted to talk, but Fluttershy spoke first.

"Screwball gets this way too. She's in her bubble right now. I know it might be difficult to talk right now, so if you need anything, just tap me. I'm right here"

He drove himself closer to her. The crowd was quieted down by the princess, cadence and Grand Duchess Twilight Sparkle.

"please, everypony, quiet down! Mothball is an ally! He's a part of the house Discord!" Twilight yelled, and the crowd screamed towards her their woes, the chill dripping from their faces unnoticed.

Cadence made them stand back, directing the crowd to speak one at a time.

"Cadence, I can't keep doing this, they won't listen!" Twilight turned up to her sister in law, ears pulled back.

"oh twily, they might never listen. But we have one chance to do our best. You're always great at that." Cadence noogied the Duchess' hair, and twilight smiled for the first time all day.

The crowd hushed when they saw this. Twilight addressed them directly. "Citizens of ponyville, mothball, the prince, no longer holds that royal title. He has been accepted by the family Discord, so why can't you accept him? He fought off the changeling queen, he and screwball defeated our enemies, he is an ally to the entire equestria."

The crowd talked amongst themselves while rainbow dash crawled towards rarity. The winds blew harder, an impending twister upon them. Rarity climbed into a ditch, safe in a pipe, and rainbow dash held up a wooden pallet, bringing it to cover the entrance. Applejack was attached to a tree, holding onto her hat as hard as she could.

"Applejack!" Rainbow dash yelped! "Dude, what are you doing?! Talk to me! We need to get to rarity!"

Applejack held onto her tree tight as a boa. "Nothing is wrong! Y'all leave me be, I'll get there when I do!"

"what are you talking about!? You haven't talked to rarity in two days! Something's up and you're leaving me out!

Rarity lifted her head. "Is this about the gala? Prince Blueblood? Applejack I can't fix what I did if you don't tell me how!"

"we don't gotta fix anything! I just wanna go back to how it was! I ain't got nothin' more to say!"

Rainbow dash had quite enough.

"DAMNIT, QUIT TAP DANCING AROUND THE CONVERSATION! THIS TORNADO WILL BEAT THE WITHERS OFF OF YOU IF YOU DONT TALK, AND I MIGHT JOIN IN!"

Rarity looked at her wife, tears streaming from her face the same way they did at twilight's first sleepover. The first time she thought about kissing her woman. She pleaded with her wet, shimmering eyes, salty tears freezing to her thick lashes. Applejack gulped and hid her face. The shame bubbled in her chest. Her hind hooves flew freely in the whipping wind, tearing away her hair ties.

"when you said you would never let Autumn Glory know about her dad, I felt like you didn't care how much it affects a pony! I felt like you intentionally ignored how much losing my parents damaged me!"

Rainbow dash looked in shock. Rarity looked with love.

"oh darling! Just let the words fall out!"

"you're my best girl! So's Dashie! I know you'd never hurt me on purpose, but I couldn't face how much you was hurtin' cuz I'd have to confront how I felt when i lost my parents!"

The storm died down, allowing some leverage for Applejack's hoof to hit the ground. She outstretched every limb like a lazy cat, adjusting every muscle to reach her wives. Finally, after torturous minutes, she found shelter in the large pipe.

Fluttershy sat next to discord to wait out the storm. He turned to his wife and nuzzled her nose. Mothball felt a bit embarrassed that they were being so sweet while he was right there.

"discord I have to say it. I thought that screwball wouldn't find love as easy as she did because of how hard it was for you to love and be loved in the beginning. I thought other ponies might think that she's too much."

Discord looked at her with drooping eyes.

"you don't still believe that, do you?"

Fluttershy kissed him. "You two are so easy to love. I'm glad the world knows that now. No, I don't."

Mothball cringed as they hugged and snuggled above him. He ran out to the blanket and out into the cold, starkly contrasting.

Mothball stood in behind Cadence to face the crowds. His chest was raised and chin held level. Just like Mantis taught him to face crowds.

The ponyville citizens kept their stare at him. Cadence pushed him forward, and before he knew it, twilight sparkle let him address the ponies.

"kingdom of ponyville, I implore thee to still thy tongue." He said in the changeling language, like queen Chrysalis did. "I cannot apologize for what my previous hive has done. You have every right to hold malice against them. But please, forgive me. I have experienced the life I can live with you, and I will use my powers to help out kingdom, if only you will let me into your hive. Together, we can be strong, and our friendship will be universal!"

Yikes. Twilight and Cadence looked at each other with wide eyes, lips pursed. Silent as a dead lamb.

...

One pony piped up from the crowd, "close enough!" Before they erupted into cheers.

The parties were happening all about the town, but most vibrant in the park. Rarity sold more in ponyville than ever before. As did Pinkie. Rainbow dash played in the sky, taking her wives up high as she could, doing anything just for fun. Twilight danced and didn't care who saw, telling everypony what constellations she recognized. (All of them.) Rarity set up a date to allow Autumn Glory and her other foals to meet their father, and told them what to expect. Applejack supported her the whole way.

The war was over, and the storm was dying down. Ponies enthusiastically hugged their heroes, swapped stories of survival, and played through the night. A party with lanterns and fairy lights illuminated the starry sky. All was warm and bright. They could sleep in the day, work even later, but for now, nothing kept the citizens away from eachother

Under a string of pink and blue lights, twilight found Princess Celestia, chatting away with her guard near the banquet.

"and make sure none of them are white. I cannot see the- Twilight!" Celestia smiled at her, unapologetically showing her teeth.

Twilight hugged her and she took the unicorn under her wing.

"you have proven yourself more than capable of your royal position, and much more. You are the biggest mark on history I have ever witnessed."

Twilight nearly cried. huge, wet eyes met Celestia's. She chuckled and pat her student's head.

"consider yourself graduated from my mentorship. You... Are ready."

Twilight was barely able to comprehend that statement before Celestia brought her to her magical alicorn-creating void between universes. Idk man I'm ready to end this series.

Discord and Fluttershy walked to an empty area of the park. Their time alone together was long overdue and the first thing they did was share a passionate kiss.

"I never should have doubted you," Discord said. "I should have known you would never betray me." He chuckled nervously. "I'm such a nutcase."

Fluttershy smiled. "It's alright. We have everything in order now.." She glanced back at the party. "Are you alright with Screwball's coltfriend?"

Discord cringed. "I've been meaning to tell you"

Fluttershy gulped. He seemed so approving bef-

"Fluttershy, he has no place to stay can we please-"

Fluttershy practically deflated. "Discord, you big softie,he can stay with us as long as he needs to."

Discord scooped her up and she blushed a deep color. He kissed her all along her face.

Screwball and mothball, meanwhile, drank punch on the sidelines.

"shall we tell them that everypony can see them kissing?" Mothball said, not looking at his fillyfriend.

"jeez, 16 years and they still act like a couple'a teenagers!"

"that does not seem entirely distasteful. At least you know they love each other!"

"you wanna talk distasteful? Try sleeping down the hall from em."

Mothball stared blankly into the distance. "Glad I do not live with you!" And they laughed at once!

Discord appeared right next to them instantly!

"great news kid! You're living with us! Don't try getting out of it!

Mothball was stunned. He wanted to thank the man and his wife, shake his hoof, but something felt like he wouldn't know peace for the rest of his life.

As he agreed and hugged his girlfriend's family, he felt that he could live with that.

"Aw, Daddy!"

He looked up and saw Screwball hovering above him

Screwball floated down and hugged her father around his neck.

"I'll always be your little girl," she declared.

Discord smiled and wrapped his arms around the filly. No matter what would happen, no matter how big she would get, she would always be his daughter Screwball, and he would always be there for her.

For he was her Daddy Discord.

[lottieurl]

the lack of a hyperfixation makes me think insane things such as well i wouldn't mind if people irl followed me

[hazbinned]

OOC Conversation Boundaries

My blog about doubled in size this week (hello!), so I just want to go over what I'm comfortable talking about, and what I'm not! This is for everyone, not just the new people, so please read this if you see it. =)

Topics I'm fine with discussing: Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss, our characters and scenes, ships, music, books, films, art, common interests, other NORMAL topics.

Topics I'm NOT fine with discussing: Personal information (like where I live, aside from which country), venting/ranting/trauma dumping/mental health (unless we're really close and gave you permission), politics, drama/vagueposting, anything controversial, real life upsetting topics, anything that violates my rules.

I must stress that unless we are very close, I am extremely uncomfortable being vented to about anything — it is not that I don't care about you. I must also stress that I am not comfortable discussing other people in this community unless it is to say something positive about them, even if you don't name names.

Vagueposting (or vague-messaging) and venting will eventually lead to a block, not because I am mad at you or dislike you, but because it makes me EXTREMELY distressed and I want no parts in it, whether on the dash or in messages.

Images and content: Please do not send me images or videos of real gore or dead animals (skeletons are fine), or anything explicitly NSFW.

Adhering to this guide will help keep this a safe place for me. Thank you!

Ad Addendum: I don't know how to reply to single-word messages and small talk like "hi", "sup," "hey," or questions in the vein of "do you want to be friends." You're welcome to talk to me, but please have something to say right off the bat and be willing to become friends naturally if that is something you want. I will most likely not reply to messages of this nature because they never lead anywhere.

[coldshrugs]

Self-Rec Tag Game

Rules: share five of your own fanworks (fic, art, etc.) Then, tag five more people to share the things they've made.

@ghostwise tagged me for this!! thank you, beloved!! it's so fun and i believe in self-hype so here we go. this is bound to get long, sorry.

i'll tag @syrcus @scionshtola @gefiltefished @rickety-goose @myreia @lilas @thevikingwoman (this is seven people BUT many of us have been struggling with The Block lately so i'd love to see you guys celebrate yourselves if you want to 💗)

✨ Something you absolutely adore ✨

in this state (FFXIV): a moment immediately following Ultima Thule's climax, in which estinien and alisaie sit with an unconscious io. i really loved having them ignore and then play off each other for this!

“You care for her, don’t you?” Alisaie asks. Estinien scowls at the very specific emphasis in the question. He cares about a great many people, Alisaie not least among them. He cares for their causes and their well-being. But that is not what she is asking. It hasn’t needed a name before now, this feeling. Most often, it is in his chest, unfurling softly each time Io smiles, or rests her head against his shoulder, or speaks kindness to a stranger, until he can feel nothing but her warmth. Other times it shoots up his spine, a radiant pride that strengthens his arm and steadies his aim. It is the knowledge he would follow her anywhere because there is no one he trusts more. And now it lodges between his ribs, sharp and stinging. He answers after a long moment. “Aye.”

✨ Something that was challenging to create ✨

vacation, had to get away (TWC): i attempted to write a spooky story because TWC is not nearly as unsettling a universe as it could be. lots of fun but ough, i was so far out of my romance wheelhouse.

Between the clutter and sightseeing, even under the blazing coastal sun, there’s always something dark shifting just at the edge of Rebecca’s vision. Faint shadows twisting out of view at the last second. The wound-wet itch of unease prickling her skin. Someone is watching—of that, she’s certain.

✨ Something that makes you laugh (or smile, if that fits more comfortably) ✨

oblivious (FFXIV): aymeric and estinien catching up and being besties. aymeric living for his friend having a crush. plus the groupchat decided this was the one (1) time aymeric is allowed to say "fuck."

“Mm, perhaps ‘friend’ is erroneous in both cases. Nevertheless, I am pleased you have someone like her,” Aymeric pauses, “for support, of course, as you adjust to– what was it again?– 'all these fucking academics.’ Though, I am confident they are thrilled to have you on their side.” Estinien leans back on his heels, chuckling at Aymeric’s weak-voiced swear. “Aye, they’re a hospitable group.” He glances up the stairs. Io and General Aldynn are inside now, and though his face does not betray him, there is a gravity to his pining. It pulls at him. He takes a step forward, clapping Aymeric on the shoulder. “I should go inside. It was good to see you, my friend. Give my regards to our brothers in arms, will you?”

✨ Something that surprised you (in how it turned out, how much other people liked it, etc.) ✨

praying that it waits for me (TWC): a fic about bumbling side character Douglas, which has had an amount of praise that still astounds and moves me, even two years later. i've read and reread every comment, tag, and little story folks have put on about accepting themselves and their queerness. i cannot tell you how much this piece means to me, and i am so humbled it resonated with so many friends and readers.

He starts gathering the threads. How this started, when he knew, why he hasn’t told his parents. Why he hasn’t told anyone. Where he plans to go from here. He knows the answers, but struggles to weave them into anything solid in his mind. He still has questions of his own, after all. His sexuality isn’t something he can put into bullet points, no matter how much easier that’d make this conversation. So he sits, swaying on the edge of his truth, still afraid of becoming.

✨ Something you want other people to see ✨

what i see in you, i hope you find in me (FFXIV): my favorite work for io and estinien so far tbh. io's shaky headspace during this portion of EnW was fun to navigate, and i am always pleased to write alisaie. balancing zenos and estinien as romantic foils during this part of her life is also 🥴

“He’s angry with me. I suppose that is his right. I shouldn’t have let them take you two.” Io grits her teeth, fighting against the knot of guilt that has resided in her stomach since the morning. Estinien is her friend, perhaps the closest she has here besides Alisaie. She understands him, so she can hardly blame him for being upset with her. They are family to him, Alphinaud, and Alisaie by extension. No less than they are to her. He has given Io little more than one-word responses since the twins were found. She may pretend otherwise, but his cold shoulder wounds her. “Oh, to hells with Estinien.” Alisaie waves a gloved hand dismissively in his direction. “He’ll get over it. Would he have you fire upon civilians while negotiating peace? He may love my brother like a… well, brother, but he must admit there was no ideal series of events to be had. We all did our best, and we all made it through.”

(spicy edition under the cut because i am 50% a smut writer after all)

✨ Something you absolutely adore ✨

flood (FFXIV): i actually really love this fic, it's spicy then it gets SO mushy. describing the position in a way that sounds hot and achievable was tough, ngl, but this is so so indicative of their intimate dynamic in general.

Already, the first threads of her climax quiver in her belly, pulled taut like a bow, like the curl of her back, as she anticipates the release to come. One move from Estinien, and she will shatter. He opens his eyes, hungrily surveying the twist of her body, enthralled by the lace framing her breasts. Io is so close, and can’t help herself. “You are adorable.” Estinien leans forward, arcing his body over hers. The ends of his unbound hair skim her shoulders and chest, featherlight touches in stark contrast to the stinging tug on her scalp. His lips brush Io’s in an intimation of a kiss, warm breath washing over her face and neck as he teases her with gentleness. “And you are already throbbing. When you come, I want to hear it, yes?”

✨ Something that was challenging to create ✨

too precious (blooming panic): uh. i wrote this out of spite because i hated the dom!toasty happenings LMAO. figuring out their sexual dynamic was a fun challenge. lots of blushing.

“I love how patient you’ve been, letting me take you in like this.” A real kiss, finally, and he sighs into her mouth. It kills him, not being able to rest his hands on her body, or run them through her hair. They twitch helplessly in the ties at either side of the bed, and Teddy kisses him harder to compensate.

✨ Something that makes you laugh (or smile, if that fits more comfortably) ✨

in the light i thought i saw you (wayfarer): just filling in the blanks of ephyra's time with veyer at the gala. they are both SUCH little shits in this, it makes me laugh.

She touches their clit. The hitch of their breath is felt more than heard, and it’s Ephyra’s turn to laugh. “Oh?” Veyer’s head falls forward, cradled between her shoulder and neck, and Ephyra’s head spins again. Veyer is… strikingly vulnerable, more than she expected for a Guild Mage. They’re so open, too close. It’s almost uncomfortable. Almost. They grind against her palm, their own touch becoming erratic for a moment, before gently, firmly pulling her hand away. Did she do something wrong? They tsk a couple times, and a fresh grin pulls at their lips. “Not yet, Ephyra. I need both our focuses here-” They curl their fingers inside her to emphasize the point. “Be patient, dear.”

✨ Something that surprised you (in how it turned out, how much other people liked it, etc.) ✨

alma.mp4 (TWC): i love writing self-love smut but i'm always shocked when other people are into the way i write it LMAO.

“How do I taste, Mason?” She lifts her fingers, dripping and slick, to his mouth. The smirk parts and he takes them in with no hesitation. His tongue slides over them, between them, and Mason’s never been good at savoring. He devours. Eyes half-lidded like he might be a little drunk on her taste, he presses a wet kiss to her palm. His lips come away shining. “Better than blood, sweetheart.”

✨ Something you want other people to see ✨

something to talk about (FFXIV): idk i just think io should be allowed to be bossy sometimes and i think estinien would like it.

He removes his shirt while she unties his pants, pushing them past his hips. Candlelight dances across his skin and in his mussed hair. Io bites back the urge to tell him how beautiful he looks, cast in orange-gold light, already panting, barely holding onto the leash of his restraint. She strokes him with a deft hand, as familiar with his tells as he is with hers. The hitching breath, the white knuckle grip. This was his game, was it not? Io slides the tip of his cock into her cunt, then cups his chin. She murmurs against his lips, “come on, then.”

[fatalwhims]

i am going to ramble about Heart of the Sun Warrior into the void in hopes that someone will actually browse the tags and join me because i need to gush about this book through incoherent rambles

Wow how do I put into words how this book (and duology) made me feel?? Tan had me guessing throughout the entire book about who would be endgame. Just when you think the scale tips one way, she follows it up with a tender scene with the other boy (?? ok technically man, but we’ll affectionally say boy because they are my boys). It swung back and forth so much that tbh I got frustrated at one point and legitimately thought that Xingyin wouldn’t end up with either. 

With Wenzhi’s last scene in DOTMG I had a feeling that he would be endgame. So I’m surprised that even with that feeling, I was so unsure throughout the entire book. With Xingyin + Wenzhi’s conversation before the final battle and the finality of the word “Friends” and Xingyin’s monologue: “a part of me mourning the end of something precious, that never truly had a chance to begin”, I thought that was it. I convinced myself that the “I love you” when he died was just her speaking in the moment. Yes it was a truth, but not the truth. And with Wenzhi dead I didn’t think there was any chance that she would end up with him in the end.

Unless he was reborn as a mortal. Which brings me to the ending... oh the ending. It was such a beautiful resolution. What a way to bring Wenzhi and Xingyin back together, but also involve Liwei. With his death, I thought the only way Wenzhi + Xingyin would end up together was if he was reborn as a mortal and she found him. But to have Liwei send him down so that he could regenerate his immortal self, to do this out of love for Xingyin to see her be happy...we love to see growth! And not just growth of Liwei, but also Xingyin in her decision to wait for the elixir of immorality. It’s the classic tale of an immortal falling in love with a mortal and having to watch them die and then find them again in each new life. Tbh it’s a tragic curse, but there was so much joy in Xingyin’s thoughts as she describes all the moments that they would share together, that it filled me with hope instead (that and the fact that it shouldn’t be centuries hopefully). And the resolution really comes full circle with Chang’e and Houyi’s circumstances. 

My thing with love triangles is that I feel like the author can sometimes force their resolution by just writing out the one who isn't chosen by giving them less screen time. For a while I felt like that's what Tan had done. Liwei just didn't have as many opportunities as Wenzhi here to prove himself or do something for Xingyin. Wenzhi had the pivotal role of getting the scroll from his father and then casting the enchantment, which was the key part that tethered them together and allowed for the sacrifice. Liwei was imprisoned for part of the novel. Etc. Etc. But as I thought more about Wenzhi's death and how he gave his life for her and thus his crown, I realized that Liwei could have given up his crown too. Ok yeah, it's easier for Wenzhi to do that when he knows it's a choice of life or death. Maybe if Liwei was tasked with the same decision to save her, he would give up that duty as well (tbh he probably would). BUT in the aftermath, when he still wouldn’t make the choice and help her heal... when he still believed that she would be able to live there, despite how much he could sense her hurting, that was when I knew that Liwei just couldn't choose her over everything. And he admits it when they meet for the final time. I guess all this to say that, I’m glad that Liwei did have his chances and his choices and that he wasn't just written off as shitty guy.

[freakystinky]

the way tumblr talks about medicine makes me wonder how many of us here actually have critical thinking skills

[7hefear]

ok i gotta do the gunshots thing again just in case. and also bc ive seen some of this on my tumblr friends blogs lately

hi if ur identified endogenic system or pro endo fuck off thanks. i ask you to do research. and if u dont wanna just block me thanks thumbs up.

more shit in tags lol

[daz4i]

every time i hear abt bsd fandom discourse I'm like aren't you tired. none of this matters. we're supposed to be doing this for fun. why are you looking for things to get mad about. life gets better, delete twitter and tiktok. i love you. hold my hand