#the joke survives long past its subject

[21st-century-minutiae]

The "Major-General's Song" is a musical number from the late nineteenth century satirical play, The Pirates of Penzance by Gilbert and Sullivan. In the early twenty-first century it is, perhaps, the most famous song in their collective works. People will be familiar with the song and its many parodies, even if they are unfamiliar with the play.

The song itself is a monologue by the titular major-general who extols his own virtues that make him the perfect example of a late nineteenth century military officer. Notably, the list is long, extremely specific, and does not cover a single skill that would be helpful for military matters. It is, itself, a satire of how incompetent the aristocratic core of the 19th century British officer corps was perceived to be at the time.

The song, like many "list" songs written by Gilbert and Sullivan, was written so that lines could be substituted by individual productions or actors to make topical jokes relevant to the interests of the time and place of the performance. Keeping with the tradition of swapping out lyrics for more relatable jokes, the song has been used as the core of many humorous sketches over the centuries.

The cadence of the song is very notable for the monologue. The above post follows the rhythm of the song (which is otherwise an unnatural cadence). One would be able to sing along with the tune using the words above, and this would be clear to readers within the first paragraph or so.

This is, of course, a humorous post, as it is an example of the very thing it jokingly claims to detest.

I cannot stand the parodies of modern major general, they're overdone and simply not as good as the original. They've done them about everything, whatever topic, big or small.

And when i notice one of them my eyes will always start to roll.

The diction's always slurry when they rush the complicated words, and adding many fricatives will turn it so cacophonous. The slanted rhymes are silly and they keep just making more and more, please someone stop the parodies of modern major general.

The scanning of the lyrics in the meter is unbearable, they emphazise the syllables in ways that are untenable, in short in matters musical, prosodic and ephemeral, i cannot stand the parodies of modern major general!

[cherrysoulth]

LOVE MAZE

🌹Story written for @sunkissedwriter as part of the BangtanWHQ Valentine’s Event “Picture Perfect” 🌹

I hope you can enjoy it ❤️

💕Pairing: Taehyung x Reader 

✏️Genre/au: Supernatural, Vampire AU, Canon, Friends to Lovers, Friends to Enemies, Enemies to lovers, Angst

✏️Rating: PG 18+, explicit

📝Wordcount: 4756

⚠️Warnings: Mind games, blood, (almost) smut.

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Hii! Did you stumble across this work? Glad you're here 😊 Please, let me know your thoughts once you are finished. Feedback keeps me motivated to write 😁

This one-shot is inspired in What Hides in The Shadows series.

Note that English is not my first language, so please if you find grammar mistakes, let me know. :)

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It feels as if you never really met him as a child. As if those memories you have of his tender smile as you played in the swings at the park near your houses -neighbours since you could make use of memory- weren't real. As if the times he made an elephant out of pulling his arm skin in between his moles, had just been a product of your imagination. As if it was just something you once dreamed and then woke up to a much cruel reality.

.

The mirror in front of you reflected an image you never thought you would see. Your hands had stopped their work with the brush, as your eyes finally caught it for your brain to process. No longer oblivious to the artform enhancing your traits. No longer detached from the situation. No longer making you see your own face through the parts you were working on with the products, instead of the whole picture. You looked like you had travelled centuries back - to an era so different from today, you couldn't even fully grasp its perks- and you were stunning. 

The mask you were meant to wear, hung at your left, at the edge of the triptych mirror, and you glanced at it once more, admiring its beautiful venetian style. It only covered the upper part of your demeanour, but you had painted that part too, as it's usual; matching colours with it. The gown you still had to put on, lyed flat over the bed, in that room. A guest room that appeared more like a presidential suit, if you were asked. 

The thing was, that the place was, indeed, a hotel once but it was so long ago you wouldn't have known if not told so. The old fashioned building had survived generations in the host's family and was being used as a Manor for more than a century. 

The whole building was taken care of thoroughly  and any reforms ever made respected the main structure of the building. So you had been told by Taehyung, once you both were able to understand such things. The few times you had stayed, the building itself was the last of your interests. What it contained, however, was a subject of exploration for hours with him; hiding in the broom closets all the way up the stairs or in one of the many rooms, was your favourite game. 

Now, you could only wonder what the cost of the room you had always wanted to stay in would have been if the business was open to the public. Victorian styled, originals, are not at the hand of just anyone in this century (not that they were before), especially with such preservation. They looked as if they were brand new, properly varnished and cleaned to keep them going. Like you had just travelled some centuries back, feeling like you were about to come across some viscount or duchess in the halls, on your way to the main hall. 

Standing from the vanity you near the bed and undo the silk robe that hugs your body. The golden silk bodice underneath will be the perfect match for the dress in front of you. If someone is to see it. 

There’s no expectations from you, or so you tell yourself. But for the gods if you haven’t been tormented by him even in your dreams for the past few months. Ever since you mocked his -what you thought was a joke- comment and fake-scenario about vampires, he seems to haunt you. And for some reason, it brought back feelings you thought you left behind as you became a fully grown adult, away from him. 

Those dreams your hormonal teenage self once had about him, the once that made you unable to look him in the eye in the morning, were back with his adult form. Then, you would wake up grunting, not wanting his ministrations to stop, feeling your skin spoiled by his touch even when your eyes were fully open. Even his scent would linger in your memory for a moment or two before reality would fall over you like an ice cube. Then you would feel lonely, realising those things would not turn into reality. He would never be yours. For your friendship's sake. 

However, that wasn't the only theme of them, and it was the times he would walk away from you or just stay within your grasp that made you feel under his spell. Those times you couldn't touch him and he would just look at you, were more shameful than the times he did touch you. 

Your perfectly curled hair bounced once you shook your head to brush off the idea again. The dreams, yes, they were an obvious haunt from your subconscious since he did seem offended after your comment. You couldn’t quite tell it by his expression but there was a sort of shift, in his energy, that told you so. You thought maybe you had used the wrong tone, or maybe the whole sentence itself had been offensive towards his subject of enthusiasm. However your own mind decided to torment you for such a minimal instance, it was absurd to think he was, in fact, also hunting you in your awakened state. Any looks you had caught him giving you, had to be a casualty. It simply made no sense otherwise. 

But, oh, how you wish they weren’t. Completely captivated by him, against your own wishes. It’s like he’s some sort of magnet and when he vibrates, he attracts everything around him. It really doesn’t only fall on his charms or how attractive and handsome he is. There’s something else you can’t quite grasp. 

It is as you daydream of him again that you swear you can see his reflection through the corner of your eye. But again, when you look directly, the room remains as you last saw it. No signs of anyone else but you being there. 

You sigh and take the dress against your chest, thoughtful. You should talk to him.

When you first saw him at the office, you almost choked. 

You had been working for the abroad branch of the enterprise for two years and never once had you guessed he was your boss. The truth was, he was using a different name then, one that didn't relate him to his family. 

You thought it was to make something for himself but it wasn’t until some time after the party that you understood the real reason why.

. 

It felt paranoid but you could swear he was avoiding you. 

You had recognised his frame a few times between the attendants, yet had no way to get near him to even thank him for the invitation. As if everyone around was working in unison to keep him out of reach: a waiter passing right in front of you when you were a few steps away from him, then he disappeared; someone talking to you when you spotted him again, to lose his track once you looked at the direction he was in just seconds before. It made you grow anxious somehow. Unfinished business has never sat well with you and your being doesn't really contain patience. Wanting to get your apology through and maybe have it accepted but being unable to fulfil that duty to yourself, it's unsettling. 

The seventh time you spotted him, he raised his flute of rosy champagne to offer a toast and officially open the night festivities since all the guests had arrived.

There was a dance, one that you had been taught until memorising, at the office. But knowing how dancers had to pass around so everyone danced with everyone. Something switched on the dance steps and you felt like you had missed a step when you were two hands away from reaching Taehyung's. Your dancing partner spined you around and sent you to another dancer you had already linked fingers with. However the room looked organised, and no one would suspect at the first view that something had been changed. Except you definitely did. Was he trying to avoid you? 

Then the time to start the game at the maze came and you felt apprehensive as you stepped in the back gardens. 

It was just as extensive as you remembered it, not just an illusion of the much tinier being you once were. God, how many years had passed? It definitely felt like a lifetime ago. 

In the dark, it was made to look worse than your memory recalled. At the naked eye, one couldn't really figure out its end with the low light the stars offered outside. There was something odd, maybe years finally catching up to that one space, its view seemed ghostly, full of shadows, and somehow supernatural. Cinism trying to kill the sort of dread it inspired, drawing a snarl in your face. Your best guess was it had been done to follow whatever theme the party was inspired by. Vampires, it seemed: for  how some people even dared to put on fake fangs. Still, no matter how much you told yourself that, you felt unsettled.

When the rules of the game were announced out loud by your host, although it’s harmless  nature, tension settled in your stomach. You were meant to try and find two victims inside the maze and bring their blood to him. 

“By blood, dear guests, I mean two copies of this beautiful necklace…” he showed it in his hand letting the big ruby hang from its red silk cord next to the lampost at his side - since he was standing tall over the stone railing of the terrace-, “that I have in my hand,” he added dramatically. “Those who find them. Can keep them.” his singsong tone, somehow, accelerated your pulse again. A bunch of 'woes' were heard in the crowd but you chuckled, cynicism again making you look unimpressed. 

His eyes seemed to settle on you for a second before he gave further instruction and everyone started to calmly go down the stairs, to the walkways leading to the tall walled labyrinth. 

It was then, as you let everyone walk past you, seeing him get down and put his hands over the stones forming the classy structure, that you dared to approach again. He watched  everyone lead their way to the many entrances. 

“Miss, ______!” he said before even turning a bit to see you, startling you for a second. “I hope you are enjoying the party. You look lovely in that dress.” You could master a bow, lacking words to express yourself now that you were finally in his presence. “Won’t you join the competition? Is it the price not alluring enough?” he said and you could swear there was a felt offence in his words. 

“No… I mean-Yes. Yes, the prize is more than interesting to go for but I was hoping to apologise for my words the other day I-'' you stuttered, so unlike yourself in his presence that you questioned for a moment if you were not just dreaming. Even with your crush on him, you had always been able to talk to him, easily. 

“You don’t believe in vampires. I think it’s acceptable. I don’t think there’s anything to apologise for when you expressed your own opinion, _______. You know I always appreciate your honesty, ” he conceded. Yet you felt even more nervous. The sultriness in his tone felt like some sort of mocking he just let out with the most polite and single-meaning words. “Now, you must follow the crowd, or you might lose your chance!” he invites, expressing with his hand towards the stairs. 

.  

There’s no sane way to understand what happened at the party and still in your dress, you let yourself fall over the bed of your hotel. Unable to close your eyes, unable to put your mind to rest as all the memories of the night come back rushing to your brain. Still unable to understand fully what has happened. Your eyes are itchy with tears but your emotions don't seem to come to life to avoid them to fall or to make them do, all together. 

. 

Alone, you walked through the alleys of the maze, with an old looking lamp in your hand. The orange bulb illuminated just enough to be able to see your feet and two feet in front of you but not much more. And it was this solitude and lack of view that made you grow anxious by the second. At that point you were sure your muscles would be sore the next day, with how tense you felt yourself. 

That, and the sudden fog that seemed to be sliding underneath the green walls that keep leading you to nowhere, made you want to step back and give up your chance of winning. Completely failing your personality again. Fog, in summer. Something felt wrong. As if someone was waiting at the next corner to give you a jumpscare. Yet when you turned slowly, ready to spook back, there was only more blackness in front of you.  

You knew you should have come across someone by then, at least, with what you guessed had been a really long time walking through, it made sense. You could hear others talk but they seemed to be always far, as if they were moving with a kept distance. Never able to make sense of what they are saying but some seem to call each other playfully with singsong voices before they giggled. You wished you had someone with you. 

Exasperation grew as you heard the whistle for a winner back in the terrace. It was far, you could tell, when the voices seemed to go quiet with the announcement. Then the chatter resumed. Exhausted, you took the wrong step as you turned your back to the house again, and stripped at the end of your dress, also scratching your knee. You hissed in pain and sat on the floor placing the lamp next to you in order to see the gravity of the injury.

It bled, not extremely, but you didn’t have anything to tend it with. As you used the inner fabric to brush off any dust from it, as an ultimate source, you realised the utter silence. Except for the decisive steps that come your way, as the fog started surrounding you in that area too, you couldn't even hear the cheering that had been going on back in the house a second ago. 

“I heard you hiss,” said a lady as she came closer with her own lamp, out of the corner, “oh dear, are you ok?” she asked gently, once she finally saw you on the floor.

When she leaned down, however, to look at the wound, the light of the lamp reflected weirdly against her eyes and your first reaction was to back off from her. 

She smirked, showing those fangs some of them were wearing. You were impressed, guessed they were custom made for how well they latched to their own. They looked natural, as if they were just coming out of her gums. Then, when she took a step further, although you didn't consciously perceive anything, adrenaline had its own hold and you were running in the opposite direction, hissing slightly as soon as you were out of reach. You heard her laugh humorously and say something about the necklace. Then you realised it. Putting your fingers over your collarbones, there it was, the collar left to find. Although you never remember having put it on or someone doing so. 

Having put some distance between you and the treasure hunter, you tried to be cautious and move with stealth. Suddenly, a hand closed over your mouth, causing a muffled shriek, and pulled you towards one of the walls before two men walked through the parallel passage. Then you realised they would have seen you at that corner. 

When you turned your face there he was: Taehyung. His long digits still against your lips as he shushed you silently putting a finger over his lips. He used that same hand to turn off your light. It took you a long few seconds to adjust to the natural light. Then you understood. The lights were meant to blind, not to help follow the lead. When he made sure no one was around he shushed  you silently again and you nodded before he freed your mouth to speak. However, the hand that he had used to disable the device, surrounded your waist, demanding how far you could get from him; keeping your back against his chest. 

Not having been this close to him in years, you started to be aware of how warm and formed his body was. His scent filled your nostrils and sent a whole rush of sensations through your nervous system.

His breath felt warm on your neck and against your best judgement, your body responded pressing closer to him. He let out a low grunt that set your hairs on end and made your hands close over the fabric of his arms -where you grabbed for balance-. Your knees felt weak and you knew you would give in if he decided to follow the need you felt in his pants against your asscheeks. Although your first instinct was to rub it, you took the smart decision and pulled away. 

Face to face, his eyes looked at you differently and his breath was shallow. He didn’t look at you as he normally would, he looked worked up, as if he was going to jump on top of you at any second. Again, your body was on its own and responded with arousal, making you clench around nothing. He sniffed the air for a second and a low grunt escaped through his closed mouth as he closed his eyes. Shaken, you took a step back in hopes to meet a surface to take hold onto, maybe looking for something to distract you or simply a place to grasp reality. Your back met the other wall but nothing came with it. 

He seemed to regain his composure, if only to stand tall and look at you from above, as he advanced the distance between your bodies. His forehead meets yours before he brushes his nose with yours, making you close your eyes to the tender gesture. "I still wonder when we stopped being close…" he mutters and his face moves down to sneak under your nose. His lips are soft, gentle and barely a brush before he is pressing his body impossibly close to you again; growling as he demands for you to open your lips with his. At this point, conscience be damned. 

He makes you moan the moment his tongue explores the depths of your mouth and the way he grinds against you with a whine, pools your panties instantly. Then you feel the pain of a needle against your lower lip and gasp, making him separate from you, eyes looking at it. You feel the taste of metal instantly. 

“I think I missed a couple of points when talking about vampires the other day…” he says, licking your blood at the end of his fang. His tone is neutral but the way he cages your body against the wall now feels suffocating. His face snaking at your side, in what you perceive as an approach to talk against your ear, making your skin crawl. “I am one.” His voice is so quiet you wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t this close. 

This time, your answer takes a second to come out and you hear the crack in your voice; even though your rational mind is calling all of the charade 'straight up bullshit', something he'll break out of character and start laughing about. “Sure. You are funny, Taehyung-aah. Are you going to bite me then?” 

He stays neutral as you expose your neck mockingly, against your best judgement. “Yes.” 

He didn't even give you the time to assimilate his tone when his fangs buried in your throat at the left. The reaction to it, came to you like a mix of feelings above the pain itself. The pain somehow, unbelievably, rested as a distant sensation. Fear was what predominated. Intense and piercing through you, dense in your veins while your body tried to go on fight mode. Which you found to be useless under his grasp. So strong it only instigated a second rush of fear, fully understanding the risk to your life. But there was also a strong feeling of irrationality, when you first tried to understand the situation. Never in a million years would you have thought you would be bitten by another human. Let alone your childhood best friend. 

The feeling of betrayal came next. Invited and allegedly safe under your old friend's protection who had become the perpetrator. Sadness, for the one hidden feeling of admiration you had for who was now attacking you. A sense of being profaned, violated, used against your will which led to the tears and a first sob. 

By then, he had already let you go, looking at you with those eyes that shone sky blue in the darkness. Even more shinny with the tears that pooled his waterline while drying the remains of the essence of your vitality from his lips with his sleeve. 

Then you ran. Without giving a second glance, frantic, missing the silent silhouettes lurking in the shadows that soon would appear to scare you and make you change your directions until you were out of the labyrinth. 

Nothing mattered more than to put distance between you and him; passing the manor through a side path. 

. 

The train is busy at this time of the day but being between this many people, although making you feel at a chance of anonymity, doesn’t allow you to fully perceive who may be watching and that just keeps you on alert. Still unable to sleep. 

You feel somehow drowsy and things around you change speed without warning, sometimes they happen really fast and others so slow you can capture details that you would have never done before. The smells too, come at you overwhelmingly and your stomach won't stop turning. You think it’s probably the insomnia and your body finally connecting to give results for the exhaustion. But…

It feels strange. 

Your body should be looking for another source of energy, such as food. Yet you are not exactly hungry. Just really, really thirsty.

. 

You don’t even remember how you got home. It’s all in a blurr. Or straight up erased from your memory. One thing is clear, Taehyung hasn't followed you. 

But he has left a message. The audacity. 

-When you are ready, come to the Manor. Stay safe.-

Taehyung

You chuckle as you reread it, letting your body fall over the fluff of your bed. Finally safe in the open space of your studio apartment. The naked walls and the simplicity of your undeclared, temporary place, have never felt more comfortable. Then your breath falters and a low sob escapes your mouth before you cover it. Tears follow and you finally give in to your sorrow. How could he do this to you? 

Your fingers reach for the place where you have a plaster. It doesn't hurt anymore. 

. 

It feels like you have slept for years. Your mouth feels cottoned but although you follow your morning routine, at 1 a.m. that it is, your water intake doesn’t seem to satiate you. 

Five days since his attack and the only thing you have been doing is squirm in pain during the day and feel like your whole body is breaking at night. Sleeping hasn’t sorted anything and finally you understand you might have caught a disease from the bite. 

You tell yourself you will go to the doctor first thing in the morning. Just a little bit of sleep until the sun comes out. 

Your eyes remain drawing invisible lines in the ceiling. 

. 

You look at your kitchen counters as you sit on the floor against the oven, now warm with a veggie lasagna cooking in it. You have eaten so much in the last few hours and meet the bathroom just as many that you are straight up in shock.

At this point, you are pretty sure you are dying. There’s no way your body can process this way, not so fast, not healthily. It’s impossible. 

The oven bell rings.

. 

You wake up under your bed. The only place that seems to bring some comfort to your pounding head as the day goes by. Photophobia sucks! If you didn’t know better you would have read your conditions as a hangover.

Then, as you come out of your hiding spot, sun finally giving you reds to see through the window, you realise what’s happening. Or has happened. 

You decide, under the bed is where you want to live from now on. Looking at the front with bulged eyes, shutting down your thoughts in a way you have never been able to before. 

. 

“Thank you, miss!” says the man at the other side of the counter as you walk out with your bag.

Through the streets you see nobody, your target is fixated, only one face in your vision camp and two boxes of ammo to fill his bloody body with. The train awaits.

. 

You are surprised to find the manor apparently empty. The silence is so extreme you can hear your own inner sounds. You hate it. The whole thing. 

Being so perceptive makes you sensitive to any changes and you can even hear the cockroaches walking underneath the floor now. It's disgusting. But extremely useful. 

You can hear their heartbeats. Come out, come out, wherever you are… You aim against one of the doors with your semi-automatic handgun and shoot. All the heartbeats around you accelerate but no one makes a sound. All, except for one. 

The one you can hear going down the main stairs calmly, without even a change of breath. 

When his perfectly suited body appears at the turn of the stares you aim at him but he still doesn't change his neutral expression. His heart does not respond. It angers you. 

But when you aim at his leg and try to pull the trigger, the order dies in your nervous system. 

You fight internally for it to happen but the only thing that does is your hand and body shaking through the effort. 

"It's useless," he points out, still neutral. 

"What have you done to me!?" you protest, still making efforts. 

"You can't hurt your maker, ______."

The anger now blinds you, the lack of control over your emotions is now just your day to day. It guides your soul. Pins you to states that you would have binned easily in the past. The gun meets the floor and before he can blink you are over him. 

Your fangs bury in his throat and you swallow, clearly intended. If I can't kill you, the blood loss will. But he remains calm. He lets you. You know he could stop you. Hell if you don't. But he just stays still as you take a first swallow. 

With it, everything in you seems to find peace and sense, as if the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. But one single feeling remains, sadness. A grieve you have never experienced before. Aware that no matter what you do next, those two kids that were friends in the past, no longer exist. 

Only a second swallow is bearable, or the need to cry only allows so much, and you let him go. Letting your forehead meet his shoulder you cry uncontrollable grabbing on his jacket like your life depends on it. 

"You know now, don't you?" he questions. 

"I do." you say pained. 

.

Then the Shadow Nights happened and by the end you felt like there was no humanity left in you.

Broken. Frozen in time, somewhere within you; crying for your crimes

.

The water stains in red as you keep your head low under the rain shower. Your uncontrollable sobs echo against the dark grey tiles but when his hand rests on your shoulder you don't pull away. 

"I know there's nothing I can say that will make it better… " he whispers but that only angered you. 

"Then don't," you spit back and you feel his arms surround your body. 

"I love you," he mutters against your nape. 

"I love you too."

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I hope you enjoyed this. Let me know your thoughts and reblog to let it spread 😊 See you soon! ~

© 2021-2022 Cherry Soulth, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.

[lokiinmediasideblog]

If i was in the marvel fandom in 2012 i would've been a major loki hater ngl. I started to warm up in the dark world. I know its controversial but i liked him in Ragnarok but then they killed him in infinity war im sfill mad abt

I like Loki a lot, and I liked him least in Avengers (2012). I watched the movies out of order at first (A1> T:TDW> Thor 1). I enjoyed him a lot in the Avengers, I was drawn to him because he's fun, but he also gave me second-hand embarrassment because he was just so arrogant yet got his ass handed to him(And I didn't know the backstory). I didn't think about Loki for a long time, until I watched T:TDW, where I fell head-over-heels for him. Without Loki, that movie would have felt like watching paint dry, so I felt especially grateful to Loki for that. That eventually got me to finally watch Thor 1. LOL. I enjoyed him in Ragnarok a lot, as well, and shipped him with Valkyrie, but I was not in the MCU fandom at the time (I was in another fandom). I am also still mad about Loki being killed off like that in IW!!!! Let's mourn!

Bear in mind I am biased towards antagonists and villains while reading this. This is my history of how I ended up obsessed with Marvel's Loki. And I am not sure if I should tag this post as "anti Thor" because I mention my extreme dislike of Thor from the past (and reasons). But I mention at the very end he grew on me. It's up to you if you keep reading.

The first time I saw Marvel's Loki, it was on a Hulk v. Thor cartoon on Netflix. Loki looks like an evil DILF in there. And Hela is a hot giant goth lady. I remember I googled norse mythology for the first time because up until then, I had thought "Son of the Mask" made up Loki, and I wanted to learn more about Hela (Hel). And I learned about Sleipnir and how hilarious myth!Loki was.

I found cartoon Thor annoying because he felt too perfect, and that's the kind of character that grates my nerves. And he survived thanks to a kiss from Amora, ugh, that's so dumb. I didn't go to watch Thor (2011) for the longest time because Thor just annoyed me because he felt too perfect and Gary Stu-ish in that cartoon.

And the comics I read at the time, specifically for Loki, made me dislike Thor more because they were like "Thor is the FUCKING BEST! AND ALL THESE SCANTILY CLAD WOMEN WANT TO FUCK HIM. BLEH BLEH. "(I was reading some omnibus by Matt Fraction on readcomicsonline). But I was more of a lurker in fandom, with no tumblr account, so I didn't express it.

And it annoyed me that some Marvel re-tellings of the myths (think it was Ages of Thunder) substituted Loki's cleverness (that saved him in the myths) for Thor being merciful or coming to the rescue. And they'd make Loki not only much eviler, but also dumber than in the myths when scheming and wprd-play is supposed to be his thing. Like, let Loki have something! You don't even have to write it because the myth you're adapting is there already! And ugh. Like no offense to anyone, but I don't really feel bad over Loki being so popular because those comics that existed for 5-6 decades annoyed the fuck out of me.

Also, at the time, a bunch of comic book nerds and dudebros would lose their shit over Loki's popularity. And Loki would be the subject of really fucked up homophobic jokes in parodies (*cough* The Key of Awesome).

Thor started growing on me in Ragnarok, IW (coolest Thor), and EG (EG!Thor is my fave because he's just so sad and I love sad men). And he was actually not Gary Stu-ish in Thor 1, I just didn't appreciate it at the time (unlike in other Marvel media). So I definitely like MCU!Thor way more than in many of his comics runs.

I also feel like I have different Thor and Loki preferences than most of the fandom, because I was a lurker and didn't interact with the fandom until 2022 and then making this blog, thanks to the Loki series bringing back my Loki phase.

[iluzja-odlegla]

I've realized something incredible, yet extremally frightening. It's been brewing for weeks. Things that I now understand can be explained using the same words and sentences yet will mean completely different things to me now and to me from the past. I've tried to tell my friend about it and she dismissed me and joked about it and it made me realize that something needs to click in your brain for it to make sense. I've talked about the fact that nothing is really true. There is no objective proof anything is real or legit and that nothing is really "trustable". All human knowledge is just complicated guessing and we base our reality on that. I've based my whole understanding of the world on my personal experiences but mostly on movies and books and stories. I took everything I digested as reality and not as subjective experience of someone that is translated to some form that I consume and make of it what I make of it. It makes agruing over any topic seems so silly and unproductive. We are truly alone, there is no possibility to truly be understood. I think that David Hawkins book broke my brain. It's like my previous framework of thinking got obliterated. It taught me how to listen to emotions truly. I never understood journaling or therapy, it didn't work for me. It's all because for it to work you really have to already feel those things clearly. Now that I harnessed that ability and ability to dig into the og feeling I let it consume me for a while (phisically) and do my daily things while feeling it and then all I get back is one a5 page of writing. Summary of my biggest secret, of things that tormented me for so long needed just one page. Incredible. I was free of it for a while until it came back. But I stopped theorizing about it because now I know that I have a certain emotional need that I fullfil through fantasy because I refuse to get it in real life. If I tried to get it in real life it would take a toll on my dignity because it exposes my animalistic needs to the world. By knowing that I can just refuse feeding the animal that. Being aware of my feelings deeply and being honest with myself makes me trust myself. By acknowledging my feralness I take its power over me. it no longer rules me, I don't identify with it anymore. I know I feel face these tough feelings again because body remembers but in a way I'm not scared anymore. I will feel it and I will survive it. The worst thing that can happen is that that one person will see I'm being emotional (thus weak in my silly brain) and it's not the end of the world.

But back to the og theme. Now that everything is subjective, perfectionism doesn't make sense and all I'm saying here is not something to be understood intellectually but something to be FELT. it's a really important distinction. All these things I've known in the past but they meant something different. Now my experience of music is so much different. I don't hear perfection where I used to, I don't seek it even. All I hear is choices. Just choices on choices. Someone decided something and got some outcome. Good or bad stopped existing for me in every sense. Some things just work for most or don't. Some things just work for me or don't. Now I understand my dad's words differently. I asked him whining what should I do with my life and he said that he did something and how has what he has. And that I need to do something and get my outcome. These words are void of judgement. They are neutral. It's freeing and beautiful and paints life as just existence. No rat race, no goals, no things that need to be done or experienced. Pure sandbox. It's sad because there is so many things that I won't know. But exciting because I get to live in a totally unique way and I can choose that life everyday. If I read it once while having some musty ass corporate job - I can make a change that day. I can choose every fucking day and it's incredible. It's very scary tho. So scary that it makes me want to not knowing what I know. Scary because it places all responsibility on me. I'm not allowed to whine anymore. If I truly believe I can choose every day I cant blame everyone and everything for my poor conditions.

Living, reading, listening to people, experiencing is now only possible as consuming what I am able to consume. there might be more about all these things, but im incapable of understanding it fully or in a different way. Thus, it's impossible to do/understand something perfectly. the world is just a blob of things that I interact with and take it as I can, there's nothing I can do to live better. I can only live. And I need to repeat it after reading that paragraph. I don't think that. I FEEL it. Words truly can't describe it. Something must switch inside. But it brings a great relief - I am now capable.

[jose89a]

The researchers were excited about it. Creating a bioweapon was a unique event since they are totally banned from use in wars on earth. Two alien bodies recovered from the battlefield were prepared by the support team so that the biologists could begin working until the alive specimens arrived.

On the first day, Bob, the leader, started giving instructions to their crew.

"Laura, you will analyze the biochemistry of this alien species. Thomas, start with the 'anathomy,' if we can call it that way."

Laura and Thomas took one body each and started their work. It was like 5 minutes in until Laura asked Thomas with a curious face:

"Can I have a small skin piece of your alien?"

"Yes, take it," answered Tomas.

40 seconds passed.

"Can I take a part of a bone?"

"Help yourself," Thomas said once more. He was starting to get curious about why she was asking for the other body parts, but he didn't ask.

50 seconds later.

"That slimy yellow thing…"

"Go on."

15 seconds.

"That greeny stuff on the center of its… chest?"

"Ok, but what's happening?"

Bob also approached Laura to find out what was going on.

Laura poured a crystal-clear liquid into the body, and it melted.

"What's that!?" shouted both men, surprised.

"Water," said Laura, concerned.

They were all in shock. Bob took a glass of water and threw it into the other body, and it also melted.

They all agreed to not say anything until they tested it on live subjects.

Two days passed until the alive prisoners arrived to the lab. In the meantime, the researchers were trying to understand why water caused that reaction and learning all they could about what remained of the half-melted bodies.

The aliens are here. There were three of them. In this case, I say it in the past tense because they didn't survive (or last) more than 15 minutes. First, Laura had the honor of pouring 10 ml of water into the alien she preferred. It died because it destroyed its brain.

The three scientists started loudly laughing while the aliens were horrified. Some guards and the manager of the project quickly entered the room and asked what was happening.

"Dear boss," started Bob, "I'm happy to announce that we found a way to wash out this joke of invaders."

"Wipe out, did you mean?" inquired the manager.

"I know what I said," answered Bob, grabbing one of the alive aliens, carrying it to the emergency shower in the lab, throwing it on the floor, and turning the shower on. "Their biochemistry is almost entirely hydrophobic. Sadly, we don't need an OP bioweapon this time."

A single exploration space ship landed on Earth, carrying a few aliens. It was the turn of the earth to discover their fate.

They landed in an open space in a residential zone of a human establishment. Typically called by humans "a backyard," It was midsummer, and a lot of human children were playing with water guns and balloons filled with water. It was a birthday party. Children were initially terrified of those creatures, at least until the class clown threw one of them a water balloon, causing the victim to vanish.

Long story short, the aliens were annihilated, having only time to send a single word message to their hidden allies: "RUN." The United States government ended up giving medals to 21 eight-year-old kids for saving the earth and the whole galaxy from those Andromeda invaders.

The war was all but lost. The aliens captured world after world, Humanity’s subjugation seemed inevitable. Then your spec ops team was authorized. A group of Biologists with no morals, no scruples, no care for civilian casualties, and unlimited funding…

[welcome2tmblrbestie]

WELCOME TO TUMBLR ✨ ✨

(I can't control who sees this so if you're not a new user just ignore me lol)

See unlike all the haters on this hellsite (no offense meant i love you) i recognize that tumblr.com kinda needs its userbase to increase if it's going to survive long term

anyway for that reason i've been building out this sideblog as a resource to new/returning tumblr users :)

❓ what is this blog???? you may ask

i reblog posts i come across that provide insight into Tumblr's...

history - changes in functionality and trends over time

culture - inside references, esoteric memes, and general believes

meta discourse - dialogue about the state, development, and future of this hellsite (affectionate)

anyway if you're new, consider this your welcome pamphlet.

no i'm not saying you should follow me, just that if you're so inclined, feel free to scroll until you're overwhelmed and decide it's not worth the effort and leave the website altogether wait no that's not the point of this bl--

Also just wanted to plug real quick that if you wanna filter through my reblogs, I use the following tags:

#tumblr functionality - how does tumblr work, how do you accomplish a certain task, what are its features, what are its bugs, etc.

#tumblr history - discussion/referencing events or iconic posts from tumblr's past

#tumblr etiquette - basically all those do's and don't's people keep making lists of for some reason

#tumblr culture - anything related to the nonsense we pull here (like tumblr holidays or the fact that your post gaining thousands of reblogs isn't an accomplishment but actually you being the victim of a coordinated attack)

#tumblr meta - posts about tumblr.com as a website or company, generally. if i reblog a post from staff there's a good chance it goes here.

#inside jokes/memes - i try to avoid posting these because the question of what's iconic enough to qualify is so subjective, but certain memes (eeby deeby, lil wayne's clop clop clop, do you love the color of the sky) certainly deserve to be mentioned because you will see them referenced at some point

[besanii]

paper-thin

[ WangXian ; XiXian ]

--

The war is won!

Gusu is victorious!

Hanguang-wang is alive!

--

A sizeable crowd has gathered on the streets outside of the palace gates by the time Lan Wangji arrives, freshly bathed and changed out of his travel-weary and battle-worn armour into his formal robes. He dismounts as the guards approach, keeping the reins in his hand as he shows his pass; they grant him passage with a low bow, moving to the side as he leads his horse through the gates as quickly as decorum will allow.

The maids and eunuchs he passes on his way to the Hall of Mental Cultivation pay their respects with low bows and bent knees, lowering their gazes as they murmur his title with something akin to awe. He nods curtly in response but otherwise does not halt in his progress—it would not do to keep the Emperor waiting, war hero or not.

It's been over a year since he went to war, defending Gusu's coast against the invading forces of Dongying. The war had been harrowing and brutal and there were many times Lan Wangji where hadn't been sure he would survive. But he'd fought on with grit and tenacity, acutely aware of his role as a member of the Imperial family to lead and inspire his troops by example. That is, until a well-aimed arrow caught him in the shoulder between the plates of his armour, and sent him overboard in the midst of battle.

He’d survived. Barely.

The doors to the Imperial study are open when he arrives, and the eunuchs kneeling on either side of the door touch their foreheads to the ground in greeting. He walks up to the eunuch standing closest to the door.

“I am here to see the Emperor,” he says.

“Yes, Wangye,” the eunuch replies.  He gets to his feet and turns to the door, raising his voice to announce: “Huangshang, Hanguang-wang begs an audience.”

They do not have to wait long for a response.

“Enter.”

The Emperor is still dressed in his court robes despite the lateness of the hour—the afternoon court session had been over for at least two shichen already—the black silk sleeves stark against the embroidered gold draped over the desk where he works. He puts his brush down as Lan Wangji parts the beaded curtain hanging from the archway leading into the main chamber, a smile already forming on his lips as he watches Lan Wangji kneel in the centre of the room.

“Your humble servant greets Huangshang,” Lan Wangji says, touching his forehead to the floor. “May our Emperor live for ten thousand years.”

“You may rise, Hanguang-wang,” the Emperor says. "We are very pleased to see you returned to the capital alive and well. Your service to the Empire will be duly rewarded."

Lan Wangji rises to his feet, sweeping over the invisible creases of his robe and shaking out his wide sleeves.

"Huangshang gives your subject too much credit," he replies. "I live to serve the Empire and will gladly give my life a thousand times over in its protection."

"Your devotion is recognised, Hanguang-wang, and appreciated," the Emperor says. "Nevertheless, a great victory such as this should be rewarded. Come, brother, is there anything you would wish for? Name it and it shall be granted."

Lan Wangji's hands curl into fists by his side.

"Huangshang would grant anything your subject wishes?" he asks quietly.

The smile on the Emperor's face freezes. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he swallows; he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly. The smile smooths into something cooler, but no less genial.

"Anything within reason," he clarifies.

Lan Wangji exhales and bows his head.

"Your lowly subject dares to presume Huangshang knows what it is I wish for," he says, keeping his voice carefully level. "There is only one wish—one request—your lowly subject would make."

He hears the Emperor sigh, a low, disappointed sound, and his stomach sinks with realisation. But he had not dragged himself out of the depths of hell and back here to give up so easily. In the three months he had allowed himself to be presumed dead, laying feverish and close to death with an infected wound, it had been this one hope, this one wish that had kept him clinging to life. If he survived the war, won the war, then nothing would stop him from coming back and finally—finally—asking for the one thing he's wanted more than life itself.

When he chances an upward glance, the corner of the Emperor's lips are drawn in tight and the crease between his brows have deepened. Lan Wangji has had years to learn the shape of the Emperor's moods, even the ones he hides behind pleasantries and polite smiles, and he knows the Emperor is displeased.

"We would advise Hanguang-wang to make another request," he says finally. Do not continue to pursue this.

Lan Wangji drops to his knees. "Huangshang, you know there is nothing else I would ask for.”

“Wangji, enough!” The room stills. A sigh. “Leave us.”

The eunuchs and maids turn in unison and bow, backing out of the chamber without a word; the door to the study shuts behind them. Lan Wangji curls and uncurls his fists against his thighs, breathing heavily through his nose as he struggles to get his heart rate back under control. He hears the rustle of fabric, followed by footsteps from behind the desk coming towards him, but he dares not raise his eyes.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen says in an odd, stilted tone Lan Wangji has never heard before. “There is something you should know.”

--

Eunuchs and palace maids alike cower in the wake of his fury, scattering to the winds as soon as he passes. No one stops to question why a male member of the Imperial family aside from the Emperor and his sons is here, unaccompanied, within the gilded walls of the inner palace. Perhaps word had been sent ahead of his arrival, perhaps they had been expecting him--whatever the reason, Lan Wangji knows he would cut down anyone who dares stand in his way right now.

His mind is still reeling as he turns the corner along the once-familiar path that winds through the Imperial gardens, his feet following the route ingrained into him as a child still living within the palace walls.

He hasn't walked this path in close to fifteen years. Not much has changed: the trees and the flowers are the same--still the delicate gentians favoured by the previous mistress of this particular courtyard—only now there are also lotuses surrounding the small pavilion in the heart of the man-made pond, filling the air with their sweet fragrance. And inside that pavilion, an entirely different person is silhouetted against the afternoon sun.

A skirmish arose between Yunmeng and Qishan involving Qishan-hou's second son. 

Wen-er-gongzi was injured in the confrontation.

He takes a step forward, his feet suddenly heavy as though weighed down by boulders, dragging along the gravel. The person in the pavilion is still too far to have noticed him, but Lan Wangji has a clear view of the long black hair twisted up into a half-knot to expose the line of a long, slender neck, held in place by a fanzhan made of silver and set with blue sapphires. The sight of it makes his throat run dry.

Qishan demanded retribution for the injuries inflicted on Wen-er-gongzi. The life of his attacker.

Both Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen were each presented with a set the rare jewels at their coming of age, a mark of their status as members of the Imperial family. To see the same jewels adorning the familiar head of hair—

We believed you dead, Wangji. 

He drags his feet another step forward, the breath catching in his throat as the person in the pavilion half-turns at the sound.

We needed to protect him.

“Who goes there?” a eunuch calls, hurrying around the corner along the path around the pond. “This is Wei-xuanyi’s private garden, outsiders are not perm—”

“It’s alright, let him through.”

A lump forms in his throat so large he can barely breathe around it without pain; whatever hope of this being a cruel joke is crushed at the familiar voice. How many times in the past year has he heard it in his dreams? How many times has the memory of that voice called him back from the gates of Hell itself, when the rest of the world thought him dead?

The eunuch drops to his knees on the side of the garden path and bows his head; Lan Wangji takes this as a sign to proceed.

As a child, the garden path had always seemed wide and inviting; it had always led to his mother, the late Empress, the only source of light and happiness and home in his childhood. And yet now all he feels is dread, cold and dark, seeping out through the cracks in the surface of his façade with every step.

Lan Xichen’s words ring in his ears.

Wangji, it was the only way we could save him.

He stops at the bottom of the steps leading into the pavilion. Four steps. Just four steps, and yet his legs refuse to move, to take even just one more step forward; it is as though his body is fighting with everything it has against it. He can't move.

He is unsure how long he stands there at the bottom of the steps boring holes into the paved stones—it is difficult to keep track when one's mind is filled with the deafening roar of one's own heartbeat. It is not until the sound of footsteps, followed by a rush of activity in his periphery as the palace maids and eunuchs fall to their knees in unison, does he finally raise his eyes.

There, standing at the top of the steps, clad in soft, flowing robes of Gusu blue and Yunmeng purple, with Lan Xichen's jewels in his hair—

Wangji. Wei Wuxian—

Wei Wuxian lowers his head and bends at the knees, his fingertips clasped lightly by his hip. A demure greeting, wildly unsuitable for a member of the gentry.

“Hanguang-wang,” he murmurs. He raises his eyes slightly, enough to peer at Lan Wangji from beneath his lashes. Demure. Restrained.

The ground crumbles beneath Lan Wangji’s feet.

—I have taken Wei Wuxian as a consort.

--

Translations

Wangye (王爺) - equivalent of a Duke, usually Emperor’s brother or uncle

Huangshang  (皇上) - the Emperor; as per usual, I only use the pinyin when the term is used when directly addressing LXC

hou (侯) - equivalent of Marquis, second highest rank after 王

xuanyi (宣儀) - lit. ‘Propagator of Deportment’, a variant of the Tang dynasty concubine ranking pin (嬪) that doesn’t use feminine qualities; the second highest rank after furen/zande (夫人/贊德), used between 662-670 (possibly under Wu Zetian’s influence)

fazhan (髮簪) - hair ornament/pin

--

Notes

Title is taken from the Chinese phrase boming (薄命), which means to have an unlucky fate (usually in reference to women). It literally translates to “thin life/fate”. Inspired by a line in the song 雪落下的聲音 (the sound of snowfall; Story of Yanxi Palace OST):  此生 如纸般薄命 - this life, my fate is as thin as paper.

For those of you wondering where the hell I’m going with this—I have no fucking clue lmao. I just wanted to write WangXian angst with a dose of XiXian that doesn’t involve Dark!LXC for once. I also cannot be bothered to look back on this anymore, so any mistakes are purely cos I’ve given up working on this any further hahahahahaha *dies*

Inspired by a mish-mash of Story of Yanxi Palace (Fuheng x Yinglou reunion anyone???) and Empress of China (mostly the OST, but also the gorgeous costuming and setting of the Tang Dynasty).

Will I continue it? Maybe??? It took me weeks to even get my ass into gear to write this one snippet, I honestly don’t know if I will get around to writing more. But if it interests you, send me an ask about the ‘verse and I’ll try and expand more on it, even if it’s just headcanon form and not fic.

--

buy me a ko-fi!

--

[maximons]

All Is Lost

Summary: Zombies have taken over the world, humanity on the edge of extinction. All hope was lost. Despite that, Wanda couldn’t seem to let go of Y/n, who had fallen victim to the plague herself.

Word Count: 2,263

Genre: Angst

Requested?: No

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, cannibalism, suicide, mentions of blood. Spoilers for Ep. 5 of What If...?

A/N: I know, I know, I’m gonna get into the stuff I promised soon. But for now, the Zombies episode inspired me and this came out. If you haven’t seen the episode yet, go watch it. Its amazing and depressing. Also this is DARK guys, probably the darkest thing I’ve ever written, so...Happy Reading!

The Zombie apocalypse was always something everyone joked about, but never something that anyone could actually predict.

Everything happened so quickly, Wanda could barely keep up. It’s hard to believe that everything was so normal only two weeks ago. Now, she was locked away with Vision in an abandoned military base in New Jersey. Desperate to survive for as long as possible while Vision worked on a cure.

Some of his experiments had been a success, most notably Scott Lang who he was able to revert back from his zombified state. However, the man was now only a severed head.

Despite the success, Vision was less than optimistic. For one, Scott was one of the first infected. While the cure worked on him, the android theorized that the disease has mutated greatly since then, and it was likely impossible to cure everyone. And even if he could, the technology to do so is beyond human comprehension and therefore doesn’t exist.

Vision might have all but given up hope, but Wanda didn’t. She couldn’t. She refused to give up on you.

Wanda and you have been best friends for as long as Wanda had been an Avenger. You were already a member of the team and greeted her with an open mind and open arms, despite all she had done. You had fire powers, and while your powers weren’t identical to Wanda’s, you still offered some basic tips and tricks to keep such explosive powers at bay.

It wasn’t a surprise that she fell in love with you.

But her stupid fear had to get in the way, and when you came to confess your own feelings for her, she panicked and rejected you. You were so heartbroken, Wanda didn’t need to read your mind to know that.

And it kills her everyday knowing that that was the last interaction she had with you. The last one with you as yourself anyway.

All that remained now was the flesh hungry, blood thirsty monster that wore your, now rotting, skin.

This wasn’t you, she knows that. She looked into your mind and saw no trace of the woman you once were, the one she loved with all her heart. She couldn’t feel you, you were gone.

Despite this, Wanda couldn’t let you go. She couldn’t handle losing you entirely. She already lost almost everyone.

She managed to convince Vision to keep you in the base for testing. You were locked behind a large steel door, with only a window to see you through. But you were here, and that’s all Wanda cared about.

The cure wasn’t working for you. Your powers caused it to incinerate when it entered your system, proving it to be ineffective. Still, she refused to give up.

Vision thought it best to terminate you after the failed tests, but Wanda begged him not to. Knowing he couldn’t overpower her, and sensing his friend’s distress with anything that comes to you, he agreed. As long as Wanda had it under control.

She doubted he knew that she was luring innocent survivors into the base so you could feed on them, but she did what she had to do.

Wanda spent most of her days sitting outside of your cell. The first few days, you were ravenous. Banging on the walls and trying to burn them down, growling and screeching with the inhuman noise that took over your vocal chords, but you didn’t manage to break free. After a while, it seemed you have given up, and just sat in place. Only moving when Wanda opened the cell and let some of your ‘food’ in.

There were times where Wanda thought that maybe, just maybe, the cure was working more than they thought. You seemed to have recognized her, your facial expressions formed into ones that she had recognized and missed dearly. But that hope quickly died when she would peek into your head and still sense nothing.

“Hey, Y/n.” Wanda walked up to outside your cell and sat cross-legged like she did everyday. Your head rose, staring at her with your now glowing yellow eyes. “Still no progress on the cure, but don’t worry, I’m not giving up yet.” You offered no response, not that she expected one. “It’s hard. It’s only getting worse out there...” She sighed as she trailed off. She raised her hand to the glass, like she always did. “I’m going to figure it out...we’re gonna get you back to normal, and I’m going to tell you every day how much I love you. I miss you so much, but...we’re almost there. I can feel it...” Wanda’s voice started choking up, as tears ran down her face. “We deserve our happy ending.”

Her hand was still pressed against the glass as she finished her speech. She was about to lower it, but then something unexpected happened. You stared at her hand curiously, beginning to raise your own. Wanda watched, smile forming on her face as your arm made it’s way to the glass. 

“Wanda! Please come here, we have a situation.” You had almost pressed your hand against Wanda’s, when Vision’s voice interrupted. Your attention turned to the direction it came from and you let out a growl, clearly angry at the interruption. Wanda sighed in disappointment, but she tried not to let it take over. You still showed massive improvement, something worth reporting back to Vision. “It’s okay.” She soothed you. “I’m going to go see what he wants then I’ll be right back, okay? I know you’re hungry, I’ll get you some food too.” You didn’t offer a response as she walked off.

“Vis! I have to tell you-” Wanda began as she walked into the main room, but cut herself off at the new faces. She didn’t recognize the bald woman with the spear or the wimpy looking man in a workers uniform, but she was familiar with Peter. What surprised her most though, was Bruce Banner. A man she hasn’t seen in over three years. “What is going on?”

“I ran into them outside the premises. Apparently word has gotten out about the cure.” Vision answered before turning his attention back to the guests. “As I told you, I am afraid we cannot help you. The cure seems to be a moot point.”

“Well, what about-” Peter began, but he was interrupted by a new voice.

“For something you have no hope for, you sure don’t have a problem bringing in new test subjects.” Wanda recognized Bucky Barnes’ voice. She turned around, and her eyes widened as she saw King T’challa on his arm, struggling to stand on his one remaining leg.

Shit.

“My king! We thought you dead.” The bald woman exclaimed in relief and surprise.

“Your highness. I was not aware you were in the base.” Vision said, confused on how that got by him. It didn’t take him long to figure out why. “Wanda...”

“I’m sorry.” Wanda whispered, knowing she was caught. “The cure wasn’t working on Y/n, and in order to keep her at bay, I had to feed her.”

“So you fed her our King?” A spear was raised to her throat, threateningly.

“It was nothing personal, I promise. I have her under control and the cure is starting to work, I know it. We just need a little more time!”

“Why not just kill her? You lured innocent people to their deaths just for her when there a couple million more Zombies out there that you could use for testing. Ones that have a chance of being cured.” The whole room went quiet after Bucky said that.

“Uh oh. Shouldn’t have said that.” Wanda heard Scott say, but she was too busy glaring at Bucky. Her eyes started to go red, but before she could do anything, she noticed the spear held to her throat begin to glow red and melt. The woman dropped the spear as it began to burn her hands.

“Did it just suddenly get like, super hot?” Peter asked as he began to fan himself.

“Oh no...” Wanda trailed off. She looked up to notice the steal walls that led to your cell begin to melt. “You’ve done it now...she hasn’t eaten in days.” Before anyone could respond, the steel doors melted completely. The man in the uniform was unfortunate enough to be standing in front of it, as a strong burst of flame shot out and incinerated him on the spot. Only a second later, you flew out the door, covered in flames as you hovered above everyone.

Wanda watched in horror as you began to fight everyone. They weren’t holding up very well, and that’s when Wanda finally realized what she had done. This wasn’t you, and if you were still here, you would hate to see your body be used to attack and kill others.

“Vision! Get us out of here!” She heard Bruce yell, and Vision shot a blast towards the wall, blowing it up and letting everyone out. Wanda turned her focus back to you, you watched them starting to escape and you began to fly after them, but a red mist surrounded you before you could. You turned your head, starting to growl, but stopped when you saw it was Wanda.

“Y/n. Stop...” You tilted your head, still struggling to move as Wanda came closer. She took a chance and reached up, gently placing a hand on your face. “I am so sorry...you never deserved this...” Your face softened at the touch, beginning to show the signs of emotion that Wanda desperately held onto. However, it was clear now that it was too late.

You snapped out of it, as you managed to break free from Wanda’s hold. You opened your mouth wide, intent on biting and feeding on her, but something stopped you. You hesitated, and Wanda noticed. You settled for pushing her aside to the ground as you reignited yourself and flew out of the base.

Wanda picked herself up after a moment, intent on stopping you. She ran past Okoye’s body, charred and eaten, but she was sure there was little time until she turned. She ran faster to where you were, now facing off against Bucky. She sprinted further, about to take off and fly when she paused.

Vision was face down on the ground. She kneeled next to him, glowing red hand turning over his body, afraid of what she’ll see. Once he was turned, Wanda gasped at the sight. The mind stone was torn out of his head.

“Oh no...no, no, no...” She held his body, tears slowly building as she mourned the loss of her best friend. She had officially lost everything. “I am so sorry Vis...I’m going to make this right, I promise.”

She heard Bucky scream. She looked over to see you start to feed on him. She saw Bruce, Peter, Scott and T’challa in the distance, making their way to the jet. They were your next target.

No. Wanda wasn’t going to let that happen. It ends now.

She used her powers to propel herself forward, landing directly in your path. You growled at her yet again as she used her powers to hold you. “Y/n...please, stop.” You struggled to get out of the hold, but Wanda held on. “This isn’t you...you wouldn’t want this...I love you more than anything, and I’m so sorry...I hope one day, you’ll forgive me.” 

Wanda used her powers to grab the gun laying by Bucky’s side. She held in to your head, ready to pull the trigger...but she couldn’t. She let out a scream of frustration and dropped her hold on both you and the gun. The gun fell to the ground, but you haven’t moved.

“I can’t do it...I...I’m not strong enough...” Wanda began crying, shutting her eyes and waited for you to finish her off. She failed everyone, no one deserved death more than her. She opened her eyes when nothing came. You stood, staring at her with a tilt of your head. The yellow of your eyes dimming as you stared.

“W....Wan...” You struggled to let out, but it was enough for Wanda to hear. She cried even harder. She was right, you were almost there...but it was too late now.

You took in your surroundings as best you could, you didn’t have a lot of awareness, but you knew enough to piece everything together. You saw the influx of zombies starting to enter to base.  Everyone needed to get away. You turned back to Wanda, and you knew what you had to do. You felt the little control you had start to slip away.

You bent down and picked up the discarded gun. You shakily pointed it to your temple, the control slipping away faster and faster. “Love....you....I...sorry...” You managed to croak out. Before you could lose control completely, you pulled the trigger.

Wanda watched in horror as you shot yourself in the head. Pieces of your brain landing on her, your blood drenching her. She looked down to see your body, half your face still together, but you were gone. Truly gone.

She knelt down sobbing, as she held your body. After a moment she looked up to see the Hulk appear as the zombies began to overwhelm the base. She saw the jet take off, and she gave a weak smile. They got away. Wanda’s job was done. This is where her story ends. All was lost for her.

So when the zombies finally reached her, she didn’t fight back. Accepting her death with open arms.

Epilogue

[beck-hartman]

"It's not," Beck argued, "okay. It was careless and stupid, and I should have thought about it." It had been an accident, a preventable one but an accident nonetheless. He hadn't really thought much about Loma since things ended, only briefly when he thought Shosh might ask about his relationship past during their Q&A. That's the only thing he knew to blame it on, why it didn't occur to him that this picture or any other would be in here. He'd only taken the one like that. He had felt artistic that day, more than anything else--hence the ill-fated and ill-timed joke. The setting, the human experience, it was all Beck sought to capture: the world through his eyes. This was pared down vulnerability, his own depiction of the Garden of Eden, a uniting of true human form and the peace of creation. Beck still believed in things like that, in the benefits of vulnerability, in seeking moments of peace despite a world of chaos.

Reaching for the laptop, he moved it off the bed by setting it on the nightstand to put away later. He didn't want to get up and have to let go of her. Taking the opportunity to grab his beer sitting there, he took a quick drink of that to wash some of this down. The excitement of showing her his trip had died a rather quick death, and there would be no salvaging that for either of them for the foreseeable. "Yeah, no, it's gone. Another time." It was just a bunch of pictures anyway, not worth the risk of hurting her more. "But for the record? That's the only one where...you know, of its kind. In case you start to think I took a bunch of her like that, I didn't." He wasn't sure of all the things going on in her head during each silence, long and short, but he wanted her to know that. "It wasn't like...us, the other day. You know that, right? That our moments don't get replicated with anybody else, they can't be. What I feel there, why I take pictures of you is a completely different thing. Do you know what I mean?"

He knew he was asking a lot of her, having spent so many years needing to close up in order to survive. To be open would take time and practice, and he wasn't going to ask for everything all at once but he wouldn't let her shut him out either. It was a balance. He may or may not always do it right, but he had enough patience to work through the learning curve. He wasn't going anywhere, wasn't going to see her as anything less, and if that's all he could convey at the end of the day, he was going to make it be enough.

Her smile released even more of the tension snaked around his heart and lungs. He could talk about her all day, share a million stories, and still have more to say the next day. His life had been shared with her and hers with him. It may have been a joke that she was his favorite subject in school, but it wasn't entirely untrue. She was his soulmate, the one he chose.

Melting into her kiss, he poured everything into it that couldn't be said strongly enough with words alone. Fingers moved through her hair as he brought his hand to the back of her neck, deepening as it went on until they finally parted for her to speak. "I can keep talking," he mumbled, a slight tug at the corners of his lips. Always a little distracted when she kissed him like that, he was back on track with a little nod at her next statement. He could what-if all day, and maybe in a different universe, the eight years would have turned out differently, but that wasn't the one they were living in. This was the one where she did come back to him. The one where she stayed.

He took her hands, giving her something to hold as she spoke. "Heavy?" He repeated as she finished, brows furrowing a little, "you've never been heavy, baby. And even if you were, even if were 24-7 effort, it would still be worth every second. I love you, deeply, desperately, madly, and being with you has always been where I am happiest. Besides, I really sucked at the relationship thing when it wasn't you. Being with other people did not work for me. We just went over the longest relationship I had in eight years. You're comparing yourself to them? Shosh, I compared them to you. Being without you was a living hell, that was burden. You, baby, you are so light, and yeah, I know we've got to work on some stuff here. We've got some good and some bad, there's some effort we both have to put in, but this is where I want to be. I'm not walking away from this. You are the love of my life, my best friend, what could ever be easier than that?"

Shosh nodded at his apology, though she knew it had been an accident. Yeah, maybe the thought should have occurred to him that there might be something in there that Shosh wouldn’t want to see. But the fact that he didn’t think of it meant he hadn’t been thinking of her, which made her feel better. “It’s okay, baby. It’s not like it was on purpose. But maybe let’s save the rest for later, after you’ve had a chance to go through them. I would prefer not to see…anything else like that.” For the rest of her life.

One corner of her lips tipped up in a hint of smile, watching Beck kiss her fingertips as if they were something precious. Every day, he proved to her how much he loved her. It wasn’t just in his words, nice as they were, but in his actions. The way he looked at her like she was holy, how he held the door for her, his gentle touch. Making sure she was fed, giving her his jacket to wear, going out of his way to bring her those dreaded lattes, being entirely incorrigible just to make her laugh. He showed her how much he loved her every day, every hour…but it was up to her to believe him - to let him.

And part of that was forcing herself to be vulnerable with him. That was beyond scary - it was petrifying. She was worried that she would show him the bruised parts of her soul, the dark corners of herself - her anxieties, insecurities, and trauma - and he would change his mind. She was worried he would look at her with pity or disgust. She was worried that he would find her too broken, her baggage too heavy. She was worried that he would walk away.

Maybe that was why she always left first.

But Beck hadn't ever done anything to make her believe that's what would happen. He had only ever been supportive, caring, and empathetic towards her. He had never become judgmental or short, hadn't ever used it against her. So she had nothing to base these unfounded fears on besides her own psyche. Which meant she had no excuse to hide herself from him, especially when he was here, telling her he wanted it every part of her.

Her half-grin widened into a full blown beam as he listed off items in her 'column.' He knew her so well, it was almost embarrassing to admit why she was so nervous to tell him what she was feeling. He knew her better than she knew herself, cliche as it was. Of course he did, they had been best friends for years before they became romantically involved. He knew who she was at her core, and he had stuck around for this long already.

When he moved her hands to his chest and finished speaking, Shosh pulled him in for a lingering kiss. "That was the exact right thing to say. Thank you, baby, I needed to hear that." She gave him another kiss, a little shorter this time. "And for the record, you're it for me, too." She had always known that in the back of her mind, whether she had admitted it to herself or not.

Taking a deep breath, she began to try to articulate her feelings. "I'm just feeling so insecure and I'm...scared. I'm scared you're going to realize that being with me is so much more effort than its worth. That being with...her, or any of the others, would be easier. I already had baggage when we were kids from being in the system, and it's only gotten heavier since then. I'm worried that it'll get too heavy; I don't want to be a burden."

[dangermousie]

Mousie’s absolutely subjective, very biased Top 10 web novels list

Please note that this is hardly aiming to be objective, if one can even be properly objective about a work of fiction. It is 110% based on my preferences, which means this list is heavy on the angst and has nothing set in the modern day. It is also heavily danmei-centric, even though I read way more het romance than danmei, because for whatever reason, most of the danmei I’ve read has been insanely good.

10. Return of the Swallow - one of the two non-danmeis on this list. Smart and nuanced and with a large cast of characters. Our heroine is a long-lost daughter of the family that is brought back in and has to cope with familial struggles, crazy royals, court intrigue, invasion et al. It’s SO GOOD! There is romance with the sexy smart enemy general but honestly, it’s the heroine that is the main selling point for me.

9. Transmigrator Meets Reincarnator - the only other non-danmei novel on this list, this was my very first web novel and what drew me into this insanity. This is just a ton of fun, probably the lightest novel on this list, not an ounce of angst to be found. But it’s hilarious and features competent heroine and tsundere hero and I will always love it for opening a new world to me. Anyway, our heroine transmigrates into the novel as the female lead. Unlike the original lead though she doesn’t want to seek adventures and angst - she just wants to comfortably live with the wealthy, nice husband heroine has. Alas, said husband is no longer nice since he has previously lived this story where he was betrayed by FL and then transmigrated/reincarnated into the past. Oh well, the heroine opens up businesses and makes friends. And eventually, her husband realizes his wife is way different this time around. This actually doesn’t have much romance, not until close to the end, but this is so fun I don’t care.

8. Lord Seventh - I am only partway through this so far, but it’s already on the list because it’s smart and somehow intense AND laid-back (not sure how this works, but it does) and is honestly just a really really solid and smart period novel, with the OTP a cherry on top of a narrative sundae. Plus, I love the concept of MC deciding he is not going for his supposedly fated love - he’s tried for six lifetimes, always with disaster, and he’s just plain done and tired. When he opens his life in his seventh reincarnation and sees the person he would have given up the world for, he genuinely feels nothing at all. (Spoiler - his OTP is actually a barbarian shaman this time around, thank you Lord!)

7. Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (MDZS) - oh come on, how are you even on this tumblr if you don’t know MDZS/The Untamed? This was my very first danmei and it’s so much fun! I love everything about it - the unreliable narrator, the looping structure, the main OTP, Wei Wuxian’s laidback, traumatized insouciance, everything. Anyway, the plot in the event you somehow transported here from 2005 is that the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, Wei Wuxian, was defeated by the righteous sects over a decade ago and fell of a cliff to his death. Only now that same Wei Wuxian opens his eyes in another body and everything that was supposed to stay in the past starts again.

6. Heaven Official’s Blessing (TGCF) - people either love its meandering narrative, picaresque structure and cast of thousands, or find it a detriment compared to much more compact MDZS. I love it even more than MDZS for those very qualities. It does have a rock-solid, darling OTP, but what really elevates it to me are the MXTX trademark combo of snarky/light tone hiding a ton of trauma underneath, the insanely intricate world-building, and what it has to say about the nature of grace and goodness. Xie Lian is one of my top 5 web novel characters and probably in top 10 from anywhere. Oh, and while MXTX’s stuff is not as angsty for me as Meatbun’s or even Priest’s, there are always exceptions, and there is one chapter in this novel that pretty much broke me and sometimes I still flashback to it and feel unwell.

Anyway, what is it about? There is a commotion in the heavenly realm - Xie Lian, the Crown Prince of a long-destroyed kingdom, has ascended to Godhood. That in itself is not so exciting. However for Xie Lian this is the third time (!!!!) as he’s ascended and lost his godhood twice prior. And now, the biggest joke of the divine realm is back, throwing the heavenly realm into chaos. And elsewhere, Hua Cheng, one of the four most powerful demons of that Universe, sits up and takes notice.

5. Golden Stage - my perfect comfort novel. Probably the least angsty of any danmei novel on this list (which still means plenty angsty :P) It also has a dedicated, smart OTP that is an OTP for the bulk of the book - I think you will notice that in most of the novels in this list, I go for “OTP against the world” trope - I can’t stand love triangles and the same. Anyway, Fu Shen, is a famous general whose fame is making the emperor antsy. When he gets injured and can’t walk any more, the emperor gladly recalls him and marries him off to his most faithful court lackey, the head of sort of secret police, Yan Xiaohan. The emperor intends it both as a check on the general and a general spite move since the two men always clash in court whenever they meet. But not all is at is seems. They used to be friends a long time ago, had a falling out, and one of the loveliest parts of the novel is them finding their way to each other, but there is also finding the middle path between their two very different philosophies and ways of being, not to mention solving a conspiracy or dozen, and putting a new dynasty on the throne, among other things. It always makes me think, a little, of “if Mei Changsu x Jingyan were canon.”

4. Sha Po Lang - if you like a lot of fantasy politics and world-building and steampunk with your novels, this one is for you. This one is VERY plot-heavy with smart, dedicated characters and a deconstruction of many traditional virtues - our protagonist Chang Geng, a long-lost son of the Emperor, is someone who wants to modernize the country but also take down the current emperor his brother for progress’ sake and the person he’s in love with is the general who saved him when he was a kid who is nominally his foster father. Anyway, the romance is mainly a garnish in this one, not even a big side dish, but the relationship between two smart, dedicated, deadly individuals with very different concepts of duty is fascinating long before it turns romantic. And if you like angst, while overall it’s not as angsty as e.g., Meatbun stuff, Chang Geng’s childhood is the stuff of nightmares and probably freaks me out more than anything else in any novel on this list, 2ha included.

3. To Rule In a Turbulent World (LSWW) - gay Minglan. No seriously. This is how I think of it. it’s a slice of life period novel with fascinating characters and setting that happens to have a gay OTP, not a romance in a period setting per se and I always prefer stories where the romance is not the only thing that is going on. It’s meticulously written and smart and deals with character development and somehow makes daily minutia fascinating. Our protagonist, You Miao, is the son of a fabulously wealthy merchant, sent to the capital to make connections and study. As the story starts, he sees his friend’s servants beating someone to death, feels bad, and buys him because, as we discover gradually and organically, You Miao may be wealthy and occasionally immature but he is a genuinely good person. The person he buys is a barbarian from beyond the wall, named Li Zhifeng. It’s touch and go if the man will survive but eventually he does and You Miao, who by then has to return home, gives him his papers and lets him go. However, LZF decides to stick with You Miao instead, both out of sense of debt for YM saving his life and because he genuinely likes him (and yet, there is no instalove on either of their parts, their bodies have fun a lot quicker than their souls.) Anyway, the two take up farming, get involved in the imperial exams and it’s the life of prosperity and peace, until an invasion happens and things go rapidly to hell. This is so nuanced, so smart (smart people in this actually ARE!) and has secondary characters who are just as complex as the mains (for example, I ended up adoring YM’s friend, the one who starts the plot by almost beating LZF to death for no reason) because the novel never forgets that few people are all villain. There is a lovely character arc or two - watching YM grow up and LZF thaw - there is the fact that You Miao is a unicorn in web novels being laid back and calm. This whole thing is a masterpiece.

2. Stains of Filth (Yuwu) - want the emotional hit of 2ha but want to read something half its length? Well, the author of 2ha is here to eviscerate you in a shorter amount of time. This has the beautiful world-building, plot twists that all make sense and, at the center of it all, an intense and all-consuming and gloriously painful relationship between two generals - one aristocratic loner Mo Xi, and the other gregarious former slave general Gu Mang. Once they were best friends and lovers, but when the novel starts, Gu Mang has long turned traitor and went to serve the enemy kingdom and has now been returned and Mo Xi, who now commands the remnants of his slave army, has to cope with the fact that he has never been able to get over the man who stabbed him through the heart. Literally. This novel has a gorgeously looping structure, with flashbacks interwoven into present storyline. There is so much love and longing and sacrifice in this that I am tearing up a bit just thinking of it. If you don’t love Mo Xi and Gu Mang, separately and together, by the end of it, you have no soul.

1. The Dumb Husky and His White Cat Shizun (2ha/erha) - if you’ve been following my tumblr for more than a hot second, you know my obsession with this novel. Honestly, even if I were to make a list of my top 10 novels of any kind, not just webnovels, this would be on the list. It has everything I want - a complicated, intricate plot with an insane amount of plot twists, all of which are both unexpected and make total sense, a rich and large cast of characters, a truly epic OTP that makes me bawl, emotional intensity that sometimes maxes even me out and so much character nuance and growth. Also, Moran is my favorite web novel character ever, hands down.

Anyway, the plot (or at least the way it first appears) is that the evil emperor of the cultivation world, Taxian Jun, kills himself at 32 and wakes up in the body of his 16 year old self, birth name Moran. Excited to get a redo, Moran wants to save his supposed true love Shimei, whose death the last go-around pushed him towards evil. He also wants to avoid entanglement with Chu Wanning, his shizun and sworn enemy in past life. And that’s all you are best off knowing, trust me. The only hint I am going to give is oooh boy the mother of all unreliable narrators has arrived!

The novel starts light and funny on boil the frog principle - if someone told me I would be full bawling multiple times with this novel, I’d have thought they were insane, but i swear my eyes hurt by the end of it. I started out being amused and/or disliking the mains and by the end I would die for either of them.

[bytemycupcakes]

Rubedo (Subject Two) headcanons

Ive had Subject Two brainrot since I heard leaks about the event (I wish i was joking) so heres lots of hcs I’ve gathered over the 2 and a half months-ish.

There’s a lot. Im not shying away from angsty hcs. tw for sui/sh/”parental” abandonment

--

-He’s not actualy evil or hates Albedo, Durins remaining conciousness corrupted and manipulated him while he was groggy as fuck from waking up after 500 years.

-Basically the whole event is Durin using Subject Two and the Fellflower as tools to try and kill Albedo.

-The fellflower dies at the end of the Event, Albedo lets Subject Two roam the mountain like a hermit because he is a person.

-Subject Two doesnt care about the fellflower at all and couldnt care less that its dead.

-More of a fellflower hc than Subject two but the fellflower is most closely compared to a parrot. It is not fully sentient and it can only repeat what it has heard before. Its quite litterally just a slightly advanced whopperflower. If it were to survive, it would be more like a pet than a third brother or a son.

-Subject Two is terrified that one day Albedo will change his mind and come kill him.

-He tries his hardest to revert some of his alchemical “plastic surgery”, really all he can manage is turning his eyes back to their natural colour (red). Granted he didnt look that different from Albedo before the alchemy due to being a prototype for him, so there wasnt much to fix anyway.

-He hates reflective surfaces for awhile cause he’s extremely guilty about the events.. events, and his reflection only makes him think of Albedo.

-Durins telepathic link with Subject Two stays for quite some time, Durin trying to coax Subject Two back to try again. At some point they turn into auditory hallucinations and Subject Two has no idea when the switch actually happened.

-At some point while on the mountain, Subject Two in a large bit of depression attempts to follow his primary order. To be dead. He tosses himself off the skyfrost nail yet only recieves some cracks in his face.

-Subject two is made of clay rather than chalk like Albedo.

-Subject Two likes to bury himself in the snow. “To pretend he’s dead”

-Snow Foxes like to lay on him when he does it.

-Subject Two runs into adventurers every so often. Most often he will pretend to be Albedo and help the adventurer with what they need, when he’s really bored he’ll pretend he has no idea who Albedo is.

-Subject Two grows to crave his own life so badly due to always being seen as Albedo that he gives himself a name (Rubedo), and even manages to get a vision. (Think like QIqi’s story, wanting so badly to just live that celestia blesses them)

-His specific vision story is saving Fischl from a deadly fall through some thin ice while her and Bennett are exploring the mountain. The two repeatedly thank him, thinking he’s Albedo. Their gratefulness makes him wish so badly that they knew who to actually thank. It accumulates all his past longing to be his own person and a vision pops up in his hand once the two of them leave.

-Rubedo has extremely vague memories of Rhinedottir. Thinking about her makes him feel disgusting. Her calling him “Nigredo” tends to echo in his head, even though he hardly remembers the context, he just knows its bad.

-When he tells Albedo his chosen name, Albedo tries to ask “shouldn’t it be Nigredo?” He doesnt manage to finish the sentence because Rubedo is quick to get defensive and visibly panicked over it.

-Aka: Dont say “Nigredo” around Rubedo, its a major trigger word and he hardly knows why.

-Rubedo would doodle stick figures in the snow and sit above the entrance to Albedos lab to pretend he had a family before being taken in.

-Albedo finally takes in Rubedo properly when a fatui cicin mage tries to recruit him due to his cryo vision. Rubedo is so clueless about what visions and Delusions are that he would have fallen for it if Albedo didnt spot him.

-Rubedo is TERRIFIED of Klee even though she is the only person to ever not immediately think he’s Albedo.

-He adores Klee absolutely but shes a very hyper child and it overwhelms him

-Albedo decides to be a little shit and makes Klee Rubedo’s main teacher of “being your own person”

-Rubedo picks up Alchemy extremely quickly... On paper.

-Alchemy tables have a 50/50 chance to just not respond to him due to his imperfect creation.

-Rubedos physical imperfections include: able to feel temperature (albeit very very subtly) and his skin feels frozen because it didnt fully stop being clay (thus the cracked face)

-Rubedo’s largest mental imperfection is: His primary order is broken. Unlike a normal homonculous he usually has no order to persue, but occasionally his mind will do a complete 180 and he will exist only to fulfill his order. Which obviously was to “stay dead”.

-It’s very stressful for anyone who has to protect him during these times. Luckly they are extremely rare.

-He hates the traveler.

-While this hc stems from my "Subject Two au” including traveler taking advantage of Albedos kindness and treating festering desire like a piece of scrap metal, this would be present in any version of the traveler. Rubedo just hates them in general.

-Following my version of the traveler in this au: Traveler (Aether) put Festering Desire in the hidden alcove that usually holds snow-tombed starsilver. Rubedo comes across it when exploring the mountain (before being taken in) and took the sword for himself.

-Rubedo may despise Rhinedottir, but he deeply cares for his fellow creations. He’s extremely protective of Albedo and treasures Festering Desire because it represents a time when Durin was happy and not evil. He was discarded and disrespected, he refuses to let his brothers experience the same.

-If Rubedo ever learns about Rosaria’s stalking Albedo because “hes suspicious >:/” he’d lose his shit and probably try to fight her. Albedo would likely have to drag him away by the shirt apologizing profusely while Rubedo keeps yelling.

-This protectiveness extends to Klee and Sucrose.

-Speaking of Sucrose, her and Rubedo end up bonding over their abandonment trauma, thus why Rubedo ends up being so protective of her.

-Rubedo is a pacer when rambling about alchemy, contrasting Albedo who tends to stay relatively still and chug coffee.

-Albedo is very happy to have an alchemist who can think as fast as he can, him and Rubedo theorizing back and forth can last hours and is nearly impossible for Sucrose or Timaeus to follow.

-Oh also Rubedo hates TImaeus. Not in the same way as the traveler, Rubedo just cant understand why Albedo gives him the time of day when Timaeus’ work never goes anywhere. So its more of a general annoyance than a genuine hate.

-Rubedo brings two snow foxes with him when Albedo moves him to Mondstadt. They are his pets. He loves them so much and calls them his babies because Albedo made the mistake of teaching Rubedo what a baby is.

-Kaeya is the only person Albedo trusts to keep an eye on Rubedo whenever he has to travel outside the region. Nobody really knows why but Rubedo and Kaeya get along surprisingly well.

-Rubedo is extremely touch starved but is so bad at expressing it. Klee is usually the only one who gives him physical affection.

-Rubedo, despite not being able to recall much of that time, has reoccuring nightmares of when Rhinedottir fed him to Durin.

-Because of this he doesnt usually sleep in long enough spurts to start dreaming.

-Rubedo was not the first prototype for Albedo, he was just the first one to actually wake up. (The previous ones all ending in remaining a hollow shell or being alive but stuck in a comatose state for eternity) He was however, the last.

-Rubedo hardly remembers seeing the remains of the others but he knows they existed. Albedo only ever knew of Rubedos existance.

-Rubedo would try to pet the rift hounds. They’re family! He wants to pet them and give them so much love and “awaa they’re pubbies, Albedo!!!” “Rubedo they will literally kill you” “BUT PUBBIES-”

[kankuroplease]

Can you tell us more about Katsura and her relationships with Shino? :)

Well this came out longer than expected BUT it is sectioned (not proof read, so oops). Hope you enjoy 🖤

About Katsura

For starters, she’s very aware that she’ll never be this great kunoichi. She’s not from a major clan that has special techniques, her chakra is barely above average, and her size is a disadvantage.

So to compensate for what she sees as short comings; She trains, studies, and tries to keep up with her teammates/not be a burden.

Will train with her sister even past her team training exercises.

Katsura is very logical about things. There’s always a logical explanation or way of handling things.

Loves writing and will carry a notebook to write in wherever she may go.

She also enjoys dressing up just because on her off days.

Doesn’t want anyone to look at her though. It’s annoying and uncomfortable to her when people she doesn’t know pay her too much attention.

She isn’t proud of it, but she has played dumb and showed some skin to get information on missions. It’s amazing how idiotic some people are over cleavage 💀

Very envious of civilians with soft hands and has definitely invested in creams to try and help with her callouses

She has been helping at her grandparents bakery from time to time for as long as she can remember.

Its one of the reason she bakes so much. She doesn’t want to get rusty~ the other is it seems to make her friends happy.

Never had a crush before Shino and just assumed she wasn’t capable of feeling like that. Genuinely curious how people can just develop crushes on people they don’t really know.

Gets really excited when one of the beetles she raises does well/finds a mate. Like she is so proud of her beetle-companion.

Also gets very upset if it gets flung off a branch by its competitor or mate. She will pout and try to soothe said beetle-companion.

Beyond ticklish. Tries to hide it but even the slightest playful touch of her neck will have her laughing and snorting.

Touch starved, honestly. Will never admit it but she loves hugs. They make her feel warm and fuzzy.

She doesn’t remember her mother at all because she was so young when she passed away, but she still will visit her grave to ask her to watch over her father. He’s getting old and he’s still a recluse.

Absolute morning person and likely to want to crash before 8 pm if she’s not on a mission

Poisonous~ no but fr, she’s crafted her own poison to coat her sword in

Her sword is her baby. Custom made just for her by her father. No one is allowed to handle it for the previous reason.

How It Started

When she met Shino, it was simply by chance. Her dad told she was small but strong like a beetle.

And unfortunately, the beetle he compared her too got away before she could observe it and collect information on it properly.

So she went searching for her escaped beetle and ran into Shino.

Who told her he had no seen that bug but told her where can probably find one.

She was highly insulted but her father raised her not to let her emotions take control of her actions

So she let it go (sort of) and followed his advice. Which did lead her to her first pet beetle

After that, she made a point of saying hi or waving to Shino whenever she’d see him around for helping her out.

And they built a friendship over the years and all was fine with the world. They’d go bug hunting and Shino became someone she really respected and enjoyed talking to.

She could listen to him talk about insects all day because he sort of lights up and his knowledge was pretty impressive

And his voice is nice too~

Also, she really liked his dad too. He was so kind and even accepted cookies she had baked for Shino before realizing he was on a mission.

She totally loves Shinos bugs (before she realized she loved Shino)! even asked their names. Not that she would remember all of them or even recognize one from the other, she was just very curious about these special little guys.

It took the coming of war for her to realize just how much Shino actually meant to her.

And she didn’t expect to survive the war either. So she put all her feelings in an origami beetle that she gave to Shino.

It wasn’t like anyone unfolds them anyways, so it’s safe.

But by some miracle, they both survive.

Now she’s blushing heavily whenever he’s around because ‘oh no’, yes she’s always been aware his conventionally good looking but this feeling keeps growing and now his looks are a burden on her heart and mind

She was honestly pretty embarrassed about that origami beetle he still has sitting a little too close to light for her comfort.

All it would take is for him to look at it in the light to see her confession and she’s not even supposed to be alive to face this possibility.

Tried asking her father what he liked about her mother and none of that matched her (soft figure and extroverted bubbly personality) and Aori gave her ‘the talk’ while completely red faced.

And once she told her teammates, they basically told her to stop being a chicken and just tell him how she feels.

now Katsura does find that just telling him would be the most logical thing to do… but it’s easier said than done.

What if he doesn’t feel the same? Can they still be friends?

Shino pricked up on her not so subtle changes in behavior and wasn’t sure what to make of it.

She’s standing closer, stealing glances when she thinks he’s not looking, jumping a bit when he’d call her name, blushing and losing train of thought whenever their hands accidentally brush, etc.

He’s almost certain he knows what all this means, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking?

Katsura has always smiled easily for him and never seemed to forget him no matter how long it took for them to see each other again.

Maybe it was the way she always was so proud to show him her latest beetle she nurtured from larval or how she seriously always told his beetles to take care of him for her before any missions no matter how small.

Perhaps it was the fact that she always told him she thought he was amazing

Maybe it was the way they both could comfortably enjoy each other’s company without words

Or maybe the way she fussed over the children’s novel she was writing.

The way she always made sure other acknowledged him in group settings by mentioning him or asking him questions.

Her snorting laugh that she’s so embarrassed about had grown on him too. Also made it easy to find her

But at some point he’d developed a crush of his own, so it would be great if she felt the same.

It’s not until Kiba discovers the origami beetle and ask who gave him the love letter

Shino’s like… love letter?

Kiba holding it up to the light so Shino can faintly see the writing in it.

Kiba guesses it’s probably from that mean little thing that always seems to be around Shino these days. In fact, he’s pretty sure it’s her because of the faint scent still on it.

Shino looks calm on the surface but inside, Shino.exe has stopped working. Some quite a few bugs are escaping and kiba is cackling because he f**kin’ KNEW IT!!

Now they’re both acting strangely with each other trying to figure out their timing but what better timing than during one of their forest walks?

Shino waits until they’re absolutely alone (None of his bugs spotted Katsura’s nosy teammates) and Katsura is distracted by if her beetle is ready to find a mate/leave home.

She’s humming to herself that this one doesn’t seem to want to leave when Shino murmurs he can’t blame the little guy. He wouldn’t want to leave her side either.

Queue Katsura turning red and telling him not to joke like that, because she might get the wrong idea.

He tilted his head before asking her why would joke about that? He likes her, and the rest was a blur as her heart was beating too loud to hear everything he said outside of the end of his confession.

Of course she said yes too loudly and then asked him to repeat what he said because she wants to know remember his words forever 🥰

Them as a couple

Once they become official, nothing much changes honestly

They still go on bug hunts and walks in the forest, but will to hold hands while doing these things now.

Shino isn’t into too much PDA of course, but he doesn’t mind her cuddling up to him in private. In fact he welcomes it.

Katsura is the first one to say ‘I love you’ and she’s not shy about saying it.

Will leave him notes to read each day if either one of them has a particularly long mission. (they are numbered and yes she expects him to wait and read them)

He’s also been the subject of several questionable dishes because baking is her thing, not cooking. She is very sorry, Shino.

They both decided she should to stick to cookbooks for awhile after the last random dish

Garden picnics are something they both enjoy whenever their schedules allow and Katsura actually knows how to prepare foods for such an occasion

Shino will have a few more butterflies than normal join them because he knows it will make her smile.

Took them awhile to share a passionate kiss because, they’re both patient types and were waiting on the other to take the lead

But once they did and she heard his beetles buzzing— and he sighed against her lips that was it, she practically jumped on top of him and then apologized profusely later

Shino knows she’s capable, but will still get things down from higher shelves for her.

Katsura loves tracing shapes in Shino’s palms and can/will fall asleep holding his hand. His hands are always so warm and calming to her

She knitted them matching sweaters for winter because she really liked the idea. They didn’t turn out perfect but Shino wore his anyways and made her whole day!

Shino was very supportive of Katsura retiring to take a bigger role at her grandparents bakery and pursue writing. It’s something she always enjoyed and he’s ngl, the thought of them having more time together made him happy.

Katsura was also very supportive of Shino becoming a sensei! What a cute job and she could get intel of what kids may be interested

Both of them would still rather eat at home but will go with their friends. Katsura is more likely to convince Shino it’s good to socialize every once in awhile… although if he wants her to be more selfish with him, she will gladly do so~

Overall just a really sweet couple that’s over the moon about each other 🖤

[un2-verse]

BILLY — Kim Taehyung (3)

Synopsis: News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right?

Pairing: yandere!Taehyung x f!reader

genre: angst, horror, weirdly some fluff lol

Warnings: dark themes, yandere, stalking, manipulation, conditioning, mentions of abuse, suicidal ideations/attempts, self harm, murder, depictions of torture etc (basically its gorey and fucked up), angel trap, etc stabbing and guns. do not read if triggered!!!!

wordcount: 2.2k

taglist: @yes-sol-not-soul @yoongiofmine

a/n: pt 3 is here!! honestly i wasnt expecting this amount of support as i’ve never published my writing before so thank u sm ♡ i was inspired to write this one night and i had no idea where it’d go or anything but i’m happy with the way its turning out :D fun fact abt me, i’ve been obsessed w the franchise since i was little and i actually have 2 saw tattoos, one of billy and one above saying “cherish your life” since that’s pretty much the motto of saw :) and i have quite the collection of saw/billy items so why not turn my fav horror film into a fucked up love story! let me know if u would like to be added to the taglist and pls enjoy reading^^ feel free to send me asks abt the series or anything u want~ i love hearing from u guys!! :D ps— taehyung and the reader dont have much interaction in this part,, theyll definitely be more of them together in part 4 :) unedited so pls excuse any mistakes!! tysm <33 and remember these are fictional characters and do not represent bts personally in any way!!

series masterlist

part one part two

The headlines constantly named the Jigsaw Killer, Billy. The somewhat eerie little doll that had a face as white as a Calla Lily with spirals on it’s cheeks as red as the blood that was shed during the tests. Billy was always dressed in a little black suit with a red bowtie and he was (most of the time) situated on a squeaky battered tricycle. Attached was always a tape that read “play me” and when the subjects did, a chilling voice— one that could make even the world's worst predators shiver with terror— would echo around the room.

Everyone knew that a doll clearly wasn’t responsible, yet they gave it the name Billy in hopes to somewhat humanise the face that instilled panic— they did not want to live in fear.

It was the only face behind the killings.

But this time, there was a different subject stuck in the test and Billy had made sure there was no way for them to survive.

“How are you scared of heights? You’re practically a giant yourself!”

“Just because I’m tall doesn’t mean I can’t be scared of heights Y/Nie.”

You had no idea how long had passed since Taehyung had turned up at the garage, you were too busy chatting away squeezed into the kitchen while your Dad, Yoongi and Hobi worked on the cars in the shop. If anyone could hear you both, they would think you’d known eachother since childhood— the playful jokes and light touches exaggerated that.

You’d only known him for a few hours really, if you added the time spent with him on the first day and now. It hadn’t seemed like all those weeks ago that you first met, he had a familiar presence, as though you had known him for years compared to the hours.

“I just wouldn’t imagine you to be scared of anything Taehyung… you seem so confident and fearless.”

You saw the way Taehyung looked at you. His eyes flashed with understanding.

“I did have my fears back then, much like yours.”

“What do you mean?” you had a rough idea on what he meant but you needed him to voice it.

A deep inhale and the words flowed from his lips before he could stop it, “The fear of living. I had been through some stuff you know, growing up. My mum was working a lot and my dad was an alcoholic, he was so fucking possessive and wouldn’t let her go anywhere without kicking off. It was a fucking shitshow and so toxic. This one time though, I’d pretended that I’d gone to school and waited outside the front door. It didn’t take long before I heard shit getting smashed and my dad shouting.” Taehyung was telling the truth only, he left out the part where he was also as possessive, if not more, than his father. Well, let's say… obsessive. “I just ran in the house and saw my dad towering over my mum and I don’t remember what happened but, I do remember my mum crying and my dad disappeared.”

Now Taehyung was lying through his teeth. He remembered clearly, almost like it was yesterday. He smashed the nearest bottle, pulled his mother away from the monster that scared her and stabbed him. Not just once, not twice but thirty-seven times. Hence the thirty seven tattoo on the palm of his right hand (the one he’d actually killed his father with). There was only Taehyung who knew what it meant, he counted every single time the broken glass pierced his father’s body, he counted with a smile on his face and a chuckle in his throat.

You were at a loss for words. Your mouth gaped in shock, eyes wide and your brain scrambled for the right thing to say. You reached over and grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers. His thumb running back and forth along your hand. “I’m sorry, I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like.” There was no way you could relate, your mother and father were happy and in love. They had the ideal relationship, one you wished for yourself. You could empathise though.

“You don’t need to be sorry baby, it’s in the past and I’ve moved on from it. I was like you though, poisoned by the roots that keep you on the ground even though you wanted nothing more than to break free and be no longer.” A silence fell over you both before Taehyung uttered, “I wasn’t successful with my attempt so now I’m here to help you.”

Warmth spread throughout your body, a smile graced your features as you no longer felt alone.

You had a completely different idea to what those words actually meant.

It was nearing the evening when Taehyung’s car had been fixed. Yoongi popped his head in the kitchen to tell him but stopped himself so as to not interrupt the scene before him. You were laughing along to whatever Taehyung was babbling about with your hand resting on his bicep, with that look in your eyes that he hadn’t seen for years. Yoongi felt himself smile as he saw you hanging onto Taehyung's every word.

For the first time in forever, you looked alive.

Yoongi cleared his throat which drew yours and Taehyung’s attention, “Sorry to interrupt guys. We’ve finished with your car so whenever you’re ready we’ll be outside.” The infamous gummy smile overtook his features, you felt yourself beam in return.

“Thanks man! I’ll be like, five minutes.”

Yoongi nodded his head in reply and swiftly left the room.

You’d taken Tae’s hand into yours, playing with the array of rings that occupied his fingers. Solemn thoughts overtook, am I not gonna see him again? Was this, whatever this is, over before it had even begun? Your eyes stayed on his hand as you turned it over and traced your finger over the inked ‘thirty seven’ on his palm. “What does this mean?”

Taehyung didn’t think twice before he practically beamed out, “It’s my lucky number.”

The difference was, it wasn’t really his lucky number… although he did see it that way. It was the number that had stayed with him. It was something he was proud of, whenever he looked at the hand that killed his father, his chest filled with pride and a joyous feeling overtook his senses. It was his first murder. Something he relished in and thus, created the onslaught of Jigsaw killings. He targeted a certain type— those whose sins would lock them up forever if they were ever found out. Racists, murderers, rapists, drug dealers, con-men. Authoritative figures who abused their power. He even went as far as subjecting suicidal people.

You see, things aren’t sequential. Good doesn’t lead to good, nor bad to bad. People who steal, don’t get caught, they live the good life. Others lie, cheat and get elected.

Some people would call it karma but Taehyung, he called it justice.

He’d started this with one thing on his mind— those that don’t appreciate life do not deserve it.

Whenever a serial killer was on the loose, the press did what they always did. They gave them a nickname. While the public had named the doll Billy. The actual killer was named ‘Jigsaw’.

This stemmed from the jigsaw piece that was cut from the victims skin, no one knew why he was doing it or what it even stood for.

It did have a meaning although unknown to the public.

The jigsaw piece that was cut from the subjects was only ever meant to be a symbol that that subject was missing something. A vital piece of the human puzzle. The survival instinct.

After all, until a person is faced with death, it’s impossible to tell whether they have what it takes to survive.

Across town an underground abandoned warehouse, was where the next subject had found themselves.

They were suspended in the air, their feet merely dangling above the ground. The putrid smell of death lingered in every crevice, the sound of rats scurrying along the concrete floor filled their ears just as they began to stir awake.

A pain in their ribs was the overwhelming factor to them finally coming around. When they groggily opened their eyes, they were paralised with fear due to the scene in front of them.

A doll sat a few feet ahead, perched upon a tricycle. Adorned with a black suit and a red bowtie. A slow red light flashed in his eyes.

Billy.

Before the subject could even register how, when or why they found themselves trapped in a test, footsteps echoed behind them. The subject called out, “Help! Please, somebody help! I shouldn’t be here!”

A tsk reached their ears, as a disembodied voice replied, “Trust me, no one can hear you. Scream all you like. You’d just be wasting your breath, you may as well cherish it before it's gone.”

With hairs stood on end, the subject stilled. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you.” The man's footsteps grew louder. “I’m here to serve justice, that’s all.”

The man rounded the subject, settling in their view with only his cloaked back visible while he tended to the little doll. He touched Billy delicately—like he was a little child that he loved dearly. He combed his gloved hand through the doll's black hair and eventually pulled his fingers from the tresses to pat his head gently.

“You fucking psycho! Let me go!”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that which only infuriated the subject more causing them to shake in anger, a movement they soon ceased when they realised something was penetrating their ribs.

“I’d be very careful if I was you, we wouldn’t want you hurting yourself now… would we?” The cloaked figure spun around. An angry glint to his eye.

“What the fuck, you’re fucking crazy. Let me out, this isn’t right!” The subject tried their hardest to swing their legs, to somehow kick the man who’d imprisoned them.

“I think you’ll find it is right. You’re unworthy of the body you possess.” He inched closer, “see, when someone purposely intends to harm others, they lose their right to life.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

The man arched a brow as he replied, “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He felt like it was a game of cat and mouse except, he was a tiger and his subject, was the tiniest prey to mankind. “But, let me remind you! Since you can’t get your thick fucking head to work. You’re a liar, a cheater and an abuser. That ring any bells?”

The subject's face dropped.

“Ah, I see by your expression you know exactly what I’m talking about! Glad to see we’re on the same page.” He shrugged his cloak off placing it to the side of the doll. “I want to play a game.”

“What game? This isn’t a fucking game! You’re sick in the head you fucking cunt!”

The atmosphere shifted, the man remained calm while the subject went ballistic.

“What is this? What fucking game?”

“You feel the machine that’s currently occupying your ribs? Well, in about ten minutes that’s going to rip you apart. I’m proud to say that trap is my baby. I’ve been working on it especially for you! How nice is that?” he reached out to tug at the subject’s legs, tormenting them like a cat would a mouse. “Anyway, as my beautiful angel trap will rip you apart, my darling little friend Billy over here,” the subject followed the direction the man's hand pointed, “is going to match your face with the ugliness of your soul.”

“Fuck, fuck this! How do I stop it? Tell me how I fucking stop it!”

A boxy grin overtook the man's face, laughter poured from his mouth as he leaned over and slapped the subject’s leg. “This is a special game.”

“Who are you? What do you mean by ‘special game’?”

He raised himself so he stood tall and grabbed a knife from his pocket, “I’m the man you call Jigsaw.” He traced the tip of the knife along the subject’s ankle, “and when I say a special game… I mean you can’t get out.” While the subject was screaming in realisation, Taehyung walked back for his cloak, hung it over his shoulder and stalked off back the way he came. He sent one last smile to the subject as he rounded them and within the blink of an eye, he gripped the knife and slashed the subject’s achilles.

A chilling scream pierced the eerie atmosphere, the subject couldn’t string words together. Abundances of anxiety, terror and pure panic took reign of their body. Taehyung grabbed the injured muscles and forced his gloved fingers in as he gripped and twisted them, “That’s for Y/N.”

Taehyung had pressed the timer before he cut the subject’s tendons. He grabbed the tape from his pocket and threw it on the ground and with a chuckle he shouted, “Game over!”

Before he reached the end of the hallway, he heard the gunshots pierce his subjects face followed by the sound of the angel trap, even this far away Taehyung heard every crack of the ribs and the noise of the body being tore apart.

Without looking back, Taehyung rounded the corner and slammed the door shut.

He’d chosen the Angel trap for the irony, the subject that was currently hanging from the ceiling was no angel. They were a fucked up, evil, waste of space. Taehyung had done the world a favour, he’d done you a favour.

That got him thinking, how much blood would you shed in order to stay alive?

[a/n: who do we think was in the trap???👀]

[ramrage]

thoughts on the tlat trailer

below the cut because i dont feel like subjecting innocent bystanders to the humidity of my hot breath spilling everywhere. also, there’s quite a bit of negativity so do avoid if such things make you tite

Okay, so I’m writing this bit before I’ve actually watched the damned thing. Admittedly, I’m holding back because I already know I’m not going to like it lol. Is this to say that I think it will be a bad movie (by that I mean poorly written, shitty timing, shallow plot, etc.etc.etc.)? No! But I understand that my desires do not align with the desires of most viewers, so...

Though I have not seen the official trailer yet, I have seen gifs. and my initial response is an overwhelming and kind of long-suffering “i don’t caaaaaaaaare.” I love Thor and I love Loki but only when they’re interacting together. It’s their dynamic that makes them interesting to me and when it’s absent, the space it occupied is usually filled with what I consider to be nonsense. Then there’s Jane just existing. I appreciate some bits of her character and tried my damnedest to like her, but I don’t. I don’t hate her, but whenever she’s on screen or shit related to her is happening, I get upset because quality time in the mcu is limited (despite the collective runtime of their movies) and I am greedy and want every second to be dedicated to the shit that I care about, which is not her. I suppose this is unfair, but I can’t say that I care too much as Jane isn’t a real person whose feelings I can hurt, yfm.

And of course, the ass scene. So there are two major things about that scene: the nudity and how it came about and the tattoo. I don’t need to wax poetic about how forced nudity is sort of degrading and all the political shit associated with it because all of that has been said already. What I will talk about it is how it’s another example of TW’s tendency to make everything a bit. Stripping a character in the way that it’s done is meant to humiliate and while it might not be as heavy as it could be (stripping a supersexy god whiteman is not the exactly same as stripping someone who is more vulnerable), it does rub me the wrong way. I don’t want to see my* characters get humiliated for a laugh because I feel like the screen time could be better spent doing something more interesting.

As for the tattoo, my reaction to it is actually kind of similar. It’s a bit. It’s not meant to touch upon Thor’s actual grief (which isn’t funny), it’s supposed to allude to it but remove its claws. And not for nothing, didn’t TW already make this joke? I do think he’s funny, but these jokes weren’t my cup of tea. I feel like Thor and Loki’s relationship is too interesting and compelling to a) near-completely drop it from the plot and narrative and b) only allude to it in a way that trivializes it. Like gosh, another dumb tattoo that says RIP LOKI. What? Gonna give Thor tattoo of a heart with a banner running across it reading “MOM”? Eh. Is it better than totally ignoring Loki’s existence ever? I think, but it leaves much to be desired.

OKAY, if you survived this long, I’m going to watch the trailer and comment on it as I go, bulleted for maximum efficiency:

lion king

ah, fucking Korg. He’s a funny lil dude, indeed, but I wasn’t exactly waiting with bated breath to see him on screen. again, screen time is limited so I want to see it used wisely (read: in the ways I want it to). I’m also wondering about the impetus for bringing him back and more prominently. Was the fan demand that intense? Does Taika just want to feature himself more? I’d get it, I guess. It’s hard to be a successful artist without an inflated ego.

past tense?

dad bod =/= god bod. i could argue there.

:-( it does seem like CH’s face has changed in some unnatural way. some are saying it’s a result of steroid use and some say it’s a jaw implant or some such filler. it’s a shame, really. i want to know who or what made chris motherfucking hemsworth believe that his face needed to be altered in any way and I need to kick it’s/their ass. then again, it’s not my face and thus it’s not my business.

okay jane does look pretty hot

that helmet is hell. the armor is hell. god awful i gotta hurt someone about that.

don’t try to tell me that jane is lik “ah idek when we dated ha ha” while thor pulls out a piece of wood notched for every day apart. if anyone would be tite about the breakup, it wouldn’t be him (is my guess. such a short relationship, such a comparatively long life, so on). is this to say that I think Jane should be in pieces about Thor? Nah. she’s had shit to do, sci to ence. i think it makes most sense for neither of them to give a shit about the other. Do I still give a fuck about the fugazi I dated in high school for two months? No, I do not.

Valkyrie asking if she’s sensing feelings should be a question she asks to herself rather than Thor. Thor’s response should be hers. that is all.

damnit why do I think gorr is sexy.

lol goats

damn, marvel really has a fucking wetty for the 80s aesthetic.

this whole pining thing is ass and shouldn’t exist

stormbreaker is ugly im sorry

ah yes the guardians of the idon’tgiveafuck

does thor really have anything worth fighting for anymore?

“you flicked too hard, damnit” that’s a fair response, mijo, and I respect that.

kinda jazzed by how unbothered jane and valkyrie are vis-a-vis thor’s dick. it has a homosexual flavor to it.

lion king space style

Everything seems mad disjointed so I’m interested in seeing how things fit together in the movie. I feel like Gorr didn’t seem important enough, at least as far as what the trailer showed. I wonder how Taika’s going to play with him, y’know? Is he going to have a compelling backstory? How does he fight and act and speak? Will TW humiliate him and play him for a laugh? I hope not because it’s less impressive and powerful to bodybag a villain if you paint them like a fool, but TW likes painting fools. I cant say I’m too hyped, but that’s no surprise, really. It felt like watching strangers, which is a neurotic thing of me to say but I’m neurotic so...

[hargrove-mayfields]

Day one of the Horror on Cherry Lane Challenge! I’ll be participating this month as a writer! The prompt for today is Knife!

warnings for mentions of suicidal ideation and attempts, death, child abuse, and blood.

Billy met Steve in the psych ward.

Well, they met officially at Tina’s party, but that wasn’t the real Steve. That was the King Steve. Deeper than that though, even the Steve Harrington everyone else saw even after the breakup and the fall from grace still wasn’t the real thing.

That was fake smiles, overdone nonchalance to cover up the wound from his fallen status. Now he was stripped down to himself, all bloody bandages and tired eyes, the boy he was pretending to be finally broken down to reveal this.

Apparently, Ruthie Harrington found her son with his grandfather's switchblade- all the other objects in the house sharper than a spoon and with less sentimental value had already been tossed -bleeding all over her freshly polished linoleum floors. She dropped him off at the hospital a night ago and nobody’s been by to see him since.

Now, it’s by pure coincidence that Billy’s already in on the same day Steve’s admitted.

He’s been locked up the past three days compared to Steve’s one. These small town hicks are jumpier (ha) than he thought, and don’t think doing the walk and turn test on the edge of the quarry after downing a bottle and a half of fireball is as funny as he does. Whatever. Cid would’ve thought that was badass as hell.

So he was admitted, on suicide watch for a stupid joke that wasn’t really worth it, or even really a joke. Max came to visit once. She punched him in the chest as hard as she could and cursed him out for an hour. She’d never done that before. By the time she left they were both in tears, and maybe Billy realized a thing or too about his carelessness. Realized for the first time that someone cared.

But he’s still in here for another week and a half by law, so. He’s not going to mope about it. And while Steve Harrington showing up is about the last thing he’s expecting, he decides that’s at least something he can work with. Definitely brings a little life to the place.

He waits until Steve’s intense watch period is over to bug him, once they’re out of their cramped little rooms for a couple of hours to “socialize” (see, the more sound of mind keep an eye on the other patients while the nurses take their smoke breaks) Billy goes straight to Steve. Him and Harrington are far from friends, but that’s pretty much irrelevant when the only other choices for company are kids younger than them too scared to approach them and people too deep in their midlife crises to bother with teenage drama.

Throwing himself down in the blue plastic chair across from where Steve settled in, Billy kicks his feet up on the table,, “What’s up Harrington? Didn’t expect to see a familiar face in here.”

But Steve, poor Steve, takes one look at Billy with those haunted brown eyes, and his face just falls completely apart. There are tears on his way too pale cheeks before Billy even has a chance to breathe.

The smile drops off of Billy’s face, “Jesus Harrington, I know m’not looking my best surviving on hospital food and cigarettes without a hairbrush, but that’s a little unwarranted.”

“Shut up. Not everything’s about you, Hargrove.”

“Oh I disagree with that. But I get the point. I’ll let ya be.” Billy hums, scooting his chair back and getting up. He stops when Steve starts to speak, “Y-You outta be careful saying that kinda stuff in here.”

“What?”

“That the world revolves around you. They’ll come up with a diagnosis for that and keep you here forever. Drug you ‘til you forget your own name, let alone your status.” Steve tells him with humor, wiping the tears off his face.

Billy nods in understanding, sits back down with an interested smirk, “This ain’t your first time here, is it?”

“Is it yours?”

“Nah. I’ve done some shit on purpose, some on accident. Once it wasn’t even me. But s’never done anything to help so far.”

Steve puffs out a sigh, “Don’t I know it.. I’ve been in and outta this place since I was like, ten. Clearly nothing’s changed.”

“Why? What’s your dirty little secret, Harrington?”

“I cut myself, dumbass.” He deadpans, looking at Billy with a bluntness in his expression that reads more concerning, more like indifference to what he just said than matter-of-fact.

“No shit. But that ain’t the secret.” Billy probes further, can tell he’s getting under that mask Steve wears, “Why do you do it?”

“Legally, I can't tell you. And I don’t think I would anyways.”

“What about if I tell you all about me first? I got no reservations ‘cept the one that got me a bed here.”

“It’s not a hotel, Hargrove.”

“Eh, might as well be. Feels like the damn hotel California.”

“Is that why?”

“Huh? Oh no, I been pullin’ stunts like this long before we left Cali.”

“Like what?”

“Like downing two full bottles of my mother’s meds after she left. Not at the same time obviously, or I wouldn’t be here. Mostly ‘cause my dad didn’t even wanna take me to the hospital either time.” Billy doesn’t look at Steve while he elaborates. Not because he cares, he’s an open book, if a random old woman at the grocery store asked about his last attempt, he’d tell her.

But. He doesn’t like watching people’s faces. Seeing sympathy and concern there. It makes him feel all stupid and guilty. It’s usually not like that with other kids like him, but Steve’s different. He’s got a big heart. Even if there’s no room for himself.

And Billy hurt Steve before. He doesn’t want to see someone he caused pain caring so much about him. He already cracked when Max came to see him. This could be what splits him open, spills out all the things he’s covered up.

So he keeps going, “And like runnin’ out in front of traffic with my friends. They thought we were just playin’ chicken ‘til I stopped dead in front of a station wagon. Metal rims’d done me in for sure if one ‘a the older boys hadn’t pulled me outta the way. Damn near ripped my shirt in half how fast he grabbed me.”

“I’m guessing your parents are the reason why then?”

“Yessir.” Billy deflects, not good at getting deeper into it, “You wanna tell me yours then?”

“I started cutting because Tommy Hagan told me about it. He thought it was freaky, but when he ran his mouth about how they found the neighbor kid in his room, drained of all his blood from his wrists, I wanted to try it. I’ve tried liquor and drugs and all kinds ‘a shit I shouldn’t, but nothin’ stuck like cutting.” Steve pauses for a long time, his eyes going blank, staring right past Billy, “When my mom found out she.. she.. Forget it.”

“Hey, you seen my skeletons. Can’t I see yours?”

“No. I don’t wanna fucking talk about it anymore.” Steve answers, despite his assuredness, his tone wobbling with some unidentifiable emotion.

Talk about mood swings. Billy doesn’t get how nobody would’ve noticed something was up before Steve started carving into himself. Really, he knows someone would have seen it and just ignored it.

It only gets worse though, the reservedness turning to sadness and frustration. None of the words are coming out, but he can tell Steve’s thinking of the stories, reliving all that got him to the here and now. Billy can also tell there’s nothing he can do no to stop him from doomsdaying.

So when Steve is inevitably in the thralls of a panic attack, he tries to hug him tight, to try to get it to stop maybe, that always worked for him at least, but Steve swats him away. Judging from the way he winces, it’s not easy for him to do either, with those thick ass bandages constricting his wrists, but the tears and the pain on his face are buried behind his resolution.

He’s hiding something from Billy.

In hindsight, talking to a new patient about past attempts probably wasn’t his brightest idea anyways, so he switches the subject while Steve works on coming down from his panic attack. He brings up Max and her little nerds, trying to bridge the healthier connections between him and Steve that they’d both been ignoring since the fight. He mentions basketball too, another something they have in common other than trying to kill themselves.

It doesn’t really work, though Steve does stop shaking as bad, just curling up in his little chair and sniffling, pretending not to listen while Billy rambles on and on. But he doesn’t talk. It’s probably better for him not to anyway. Billy himself has been known to say some dumb shit when he’s in distress.

Ultimately, even once the conversation runs out, he stays with Steve until dark. He can tell from the way his gaze sticks to the floor that Steve recovered from his fit a while ago, but he’s embarrassed by having a breakdown in front of him, as if he isn’t in here for the same reason. It helps that he gets it though, and they sit in a comfortable, albeit very prolonged, silence.

Long after Steve gets xanned up and knocked out though, while Billy is still free to wander until the midnight curfew as a low risk patient, he decides to stick with him in his room. Billy’ll never admit it, but he gets nightmares, and he doesn’t want to face that just yet, so with a new friend as an excuse, he’s up half the night watching Steve sleep.

He remembers what happened earlier, how focused Steve was on keeping him away from him, despite his panic, and decides, with a glance at how deeply Steve is sleeping, his greasy hair all strewn about on stiff pillows, that he’s going to figure out what it was.

He snoops around in his bedside drawers, in the bathroom, in the locker in the corner. It’s there he notices the knitted jacket Steve was wearing before, hanging heavy to one side, like there’s something in its pocket. He touches it and feels the outline of something small, so he pulls it out.

He regrets checking though, because it’s a knife. Judging from the old looking engravings on its handle, and the coppery stains within the grooves, it’s specifically the very same one that got Steve hospitalized.

He shoves it in his own back pocket and keeps looking, with a quick glance at Steve, finding a note tucked where the knife had been. Written in perfect scrawl on bond paper that’s been folded a dozen times and stained with tears,

“Do it right next time, why don’t you? Your mother is too soft on you. I’m not paying for this again.

- J.Harrington.”

Billy doesn’t know what to do but throw the note in the trash. Not really in shock, but definitely more than a little fucked up from reading that, he sits on the end of Steve’s bed. His own dad, who'd more than once been the one putting him in the hospital, had never even said anything like that to him.

He didn’t get to talk to Steve much today, but they’ve got as long as Billy’s stuck in here together to fix that. Longer if he just pulls something in front of a nurse. And he wants to, really really wants to.

Because he knows he just met the real Steve, can recognize another broken boy when he sees one, and he knows too, that he never wants to meet a pretty boy like this again.

And if that’s his declaration to get clean, then so fucking be it.

But. He never promised not to hurt anyone. Ultimately he’d still need that outlet.

He keeps the knife. To make sure his pretty boy doesn’t get hurt again.

[haleigh-sloth]

I have a question but why do you think so many people are against Dabi/Touya getting a redemption arc or getting saved? Like some are against him being saved but are all down for Shiggy and Toga to be saved? I usually see the same argument and it’s frustrating! Like before I explain myself just want to say I’m not hating on Shiggy or do I feel like he’s any less worth saving but I see these arguments that leave me baffled. So the arguments I have seen before is some people don’t think Dabi/Touya can be redeemed or saved because he has murdered 30+ people, but like Shiggy has probably killed the same amount of not more people so that logic doesn’t really cut it. So why does it make a difference? Like why are people so against Dabi/Touya being saved or redeemed?

Well, I'll start this by saying that Shigaraki has ABSOLUTELY KILLED MORE PEOPLE HOLY SHIT DUDE. It's not even up for debate 😂 that boy flattened two cities with the touch of a hand. Shiggy is my favorite hands down and I'll defend the boy til I die but he has done so much more damage. That's kind of the point to his arc--actually. But anyways~

Content Warning of abuse below the cut a bit further down--

So with that--I've wondered the same thing you're asking. Why is Touya getting so much hate? Why not redeem him? Well, there's a few reasons that I have seen:

Endeavor- This is the first and foremost reason I can see for Touya having so many antis. This is something I can't grasp or fathom--Why do so many people like Endeavor? Or more like--why do so many people want to see an abuser thrive and his victim be put down? I can understand wanting to see an abuser better himself AND wanting to see the victim thrive, and I can see people wanting the abuser to be put down and the victim to thrive. But to just want the abuser to come out on top? No. Fuck you. (not you anon). So for whatever reason that I cannot fathom, people can't stand the idea of Touya surviving, being saved and redeemed, because it means that Enji has failed (which he already has but--again I really don't understand that side of the fandom and quite frankly I don't want to). So yeah, Endeavor has a lot of ridiculous fans. Hawks- I've already talked about how ridiculous some of the Hawks-stans are. I'm sorry but---they're fucking ridiculous. Some of them need to step away from their computer, go outside, breath some outside air, and shut the fuck up. And let me tell you---we sometimes joke about how the hero-stan side of the fandom lacks critical thinking skills and can't read past the surface--but I want to disagree with to an extent. I can tell you right now, Hawks's stans saw THIS:

And they knew. Seeing Hawks remain in the dark while Dabi walked toward the light. They knew what this was foretelling. And they didn't like it. And then this happened:

And they DEFINITELY did not like that. And then Dabi went and made fried chicken out of him and they found more reason to hate him with all their being. Hawks was kind of set up to die heroically--and even though his arc is pretty bad right now, I still think that at this point that’s the best ending for him. For me, he’s gone too long without even remotely thinking of changing his ideologies, and has been backing Endeavor unquestionably for a bit too long now. It’s just not looking good for him survival-wise. And his stans either SEE this very clearly and are in denial and need something to hate in order to deal with it, OR they really just aren’t looking as deep into the story as they need to. Those panels I used above though honestly tell it all. That being said he very well may survive and not have any consequences from his low point at all--but then he gets thrown in the “BNHA’s shittiest written arcs” pile. But whatever. 

Also--shoutout to the blogs I follow and people I talk to who genuinely LOVE Hawks’s character but like--aren’t ridiculous about it and don’t harass people in their inboxes about it. Who also try to understand his character and not just make him out to be a uwu baby that never did anything wrong. TRUE Hawks-stans if I ever saw em.

Shouto--This is FAR less common than the other two reasons, but I have seen a few people who think this. They love Shouto (understandably--he’s a fluffy boy who needs a hug from his big brother Touya), but they think that Touya is going to be Shouto’s “final boss”, or his mortal enemy or something. Which--idk if they just refuse to read into Shouto’s awesome character on purpose or not, but he is not about to go out there and try to kill his big brother, who he never got to know, who he KNOWS suffered because of their father, and who is very very clearly in physical, mental, and emotional pain. Again--Shouto-stans are a  far less part of the problem. But I’ve seen this misunderstanding of Shouto’s character go around a few times. 

This next one is also big, and kind of falls into the same category with Endeavor up top--but it’s such a huge issue that I’m seeing that it needs its own paragraph: People don’t understand children’s behaviors, abuse, abusive family dynamics, and just child psychology in general. Child psychology is hard to understand--but also very simple. It’s hard as an adult to think back to how black and white the world was when you were a kid. Your parents were your safe place--they were your guardians. Or rather--they were supposed to be. This isn’t always the case though. And the Todoroki family exhibits a lot of realistic aspects of abuse. Even though the Todoroki backstory was very messily written--one thing is absolute: Endeavor emotionally abused his child. The issue is that Shouto’s and Rei’s physical abuse was shown FIRST in the story--and THEN we were shown what really happened with Touya wasn’t so easily identified as abuse (I mean it is--to me, but not to everybody). And people got stuck on comparing Touya’s and Shouto’s childhood instead of viewing them as two completely separate crimes Endeavor committed against his family. And they misunderstand Touya’s behaviors. Peep back at when I said that your parents are supposed to be your safe place--well, for Touya, Enji WAS his safe place, his guardian, his world. And then suddenly all of that disappeared without reason (good reason I mean). And that takes a serious toll on a child. I could honestly go on and on and on about this topic in particular but it’s not necessary for this ask. The point is---people don’t think Touya was actually abused or that he suffered as a child. They seriously lack an understanding when it comes to stuff like that. And they aren’t shy about showing it to the rest of the internet. 

The last reason which I think kind of encompasses all of these reasons: People don’t understand redemption arcs--because they’re not your run of the mill Heroes vs. Villains story. It makes it to where it’s not clearly obvious whose side you should take. I guess people don’t like that---but I love it. Why not take BOTH sides?

You get to have more fun this way imo. You get to watch and see how the two sides come together--rather than just stick to one ideology til the end. I think it’s because people don’t like having their ideals, beliefs, and values challenged. It may be personal for some people--but forgiveness is a touchy subject as well.  And I also think a lot of people very much think that the rules of our reality should exist within fiction. People forget that fiction exists for us to escape reality--I don’t know why this is so easily forgotten. But what’s cool about fictional stories is that everybody can have a happy ending--no matter how many atrocities they committed, people they hurt/killed, because guess what? NOBODY ACTUALLY GOT HURT! 

But anyway---these are the conclusions I’ve come to regarding why Touya has so many haters. Some are legitimate reasons (the last two I listed) and some are just outright ridiculous (the first three I listed). 

I’m not bothered though. I would LIKE to say that when these villain-saving chapters come out I’ll laugh hysterically at all the villain-haters’ reactions---BUT I already blocked almost all of them. 😂