#when he said always i jumped im conditioned to

[starrrbakerrr]

"Gi, you are literally the easiest person in the world to root for." (4x03)

[cherry-shipping]

goddamn i gotta figure out what the hell my horrortale self insert does in the underground. i know everything about their life before that and HOW they get there but i have no idea what the fuck they do once theyre actually DOWN there

also i ran out of tags im saying this here as an addition so you know why they just sorta end abruptly. lol. everyone say thank you to my habit of talking in the tags cause i dont want people to see the shit i say

[ahaura]

i saw someone point out the frequency with which liberals back social justice movements... how, for instance, when ferguson happened under obama it was not popular and there were many, many liberals who found the blm movement, in a sense, "in violation of [liberal] sensibilities" (when liberalism as a rule does not challenge the status quo, only maintains it and sees any call for revolution or real change as disruptive or 'bad for optics' and therefore not acceptable) but then when trump became president and he opposed blm a lot more liberals decided that the blm movement had merit because they viewed it from a team-sports perspective rather than a worldview based on morals and an understanding of the systems in place in the U.S. - that it was more comfortable for them to operate from a "trump bad" basis rather than "the american justice system and the police are inherently white supremacist, which are inherently, automatically, and always violent"

+ that, if trump was president while israel is carrying out its genocide, liberals would have NO problem denouncing israel and demanding for a ceasefire because they're comfortable operating from the 2-party system basis, NOT from a framework based on material conditions or factors or any acknowledgement or analysis of imperialism, colonialism, or capitalism. but because biden is a democrat, and democrats are supposed to be "the decent party" "the lesser evil" "more respectable" when, in functionality - in real practice, they don't want to disrupt the status quo. (internally, maintaining systems of white supremacy and capitalism; externally, furthering U.S. imperialism by maintaining hegemony and continuing the practice of exploitation and extraction of labor+capital+resources from the global south)

which is why we're here, a month into a genocide, and liberals are so cowardly and gutless that, in the face of our democrat president allowing and funding the genocide of palestinians in order for the U.S. to maintain its military base in the middle east, liberals IMMEDIATELY jump to "well, you HAVE to vote for him still, because trump will be worse!" and go "well im powerless there's nothing i can do", immediately folding like a wet paper bag in the face of the american empire rearing its ugly head in the most blatant, naked way in years, instead of thinking "this is unacceptable, i should pressure my elected officials and do everything i can - be it combating propaganda, contacting my congresspeople or senators, protesting, or engaging in direct action - to ensure this stops as quickly as possible".

there are liberals STILL IN MY NOTIFICATIONS who go "well you'll be electing a fascist if you vote for trump" not realizing that YOU CAN'T SIMPLY VOTE FASCISM AWAY. (which is not to say you should vote for republicans; that's not what i'm saying. none of us have said it.) we're pretty much already there. it's 2003 all over again, with the patriot act and all. the american war machine is pumping out racist, orientalist, pro-colonial, pro-genocide propaganda on behalf of the ethno-state america and its allies have backed since the so-called state's inception. people are being doxxed, fired, harassed, and attacked for visibly supporting palestine/opposing israel. islamophobic hate crimes are on the rise; a 6 year old boy was murdered not one month ago, an arab doctor in texas was stabbed to death. antisemitism is on the rise as well, thanks to the conflation of antisemitism with anti-zionism (which nazis have and will attempt to co-op in order to 'justify' + then act on their antisemitism, racism, and genocidal worldviews). our government is silencing people, brutalizing protestors, and arming and funding an ethno-state committing genocide - everything that would have been called fascist if it was under trump. but because it's a *democrat* liberals place "vote blue no matter who" and "optics" over the extremely basic moral stance that "genocide is wrong and people have the right to self-determination, autonomy, and life". arabs and muslims are already so dehumanized in the west that liberals (whether they consider themselves liberals or not) consider it an inconvenience to talk about the ongoing genocide that is happening with the blessing of OUR government. in this they expose their selfishness, the shallowness of their morals, their chauvinism, and their racism/orientalism/islamophobia/et cetera.

for example, if you see israeli troops waving a gay pride flag and the israeli state touting its support of gay people while said iof soldiers are murdering men, women, and children en masse every single day and you somehow????? think that because gay people are the ones doing the killing or a state claims to support gay people is doing the killing is ok then 1) you have fallen for pinkwashing propaganda and 2) that you find the murder of palestinians, or any people, permissible by a colonial force that uses causes liberals may genuinely care about in order to disguise, whitewash, or "lessen" the severity of the injustices it does unto usually black and brown people outside of the U.S., then you are just as bloodthirsty and depraved as anyone you would personally assign those descriptors of.

once again, it goes back to resorting to a team-sport understanding of the world rather than approaching it from a material one.

[genericpuff]

I know LO has been over for a while but something that's always confused me is the 10 year punishment thing. (I dropped the comic before the judgment so correct me if im wrong)

apparently Persephone was sentenced to 10 years in the mortal realm. Yet she complains that Zeus keeps extending her punishment but the timeskip only ends up being 10 years? (From 20 yrs old to 30). that makes it sound like she had a shorter sentence that was extended to 10 yrs (what a fuckin slap on the wrist if it was).

Either her punishment was 10 yrs and Perse was just banking on early parole release or she always had a short sentence which ended up being a measly 10 yrs anyway.

But then that would mean Demeter's punishment period was either tied directly to Persephone's or (for some reason) she had a full 10 yr sentence while Persephone got an initial shorter period

If it's not either of those then shouldn't her punishment be longer? 11, 12, 15, 20 yrs instead? Would make more sense that she was mad if she had to serve at least twice as long as she was told to

Ah so actually she wasn't sentenced to 10 years, she was basically sentenced to a perpetual punishment until Zeus felt certain conditions were met, such as her filling all of the responsibilities of Demeter and turning Minthe back to normal.

So the reason it wound up being 10 years was because Zeus kept finding reasons to extend the sentencing, clearly in an attempt to keep her away from Apollo as he was already suspecting that he might use Persephone's fertility goddess powers to overthrow him.

(joke's on Zeus though, he was overthrown with a poison cupcake lmaooo)

That said, Persephone was... really dumb when she failed her 10th inspection. Primarily because she broke one of the rules Zeus put in place for her before he did the inspection-

Like it's really funny in hindsight to read this scene because at the time the narrative was definitely trying to make us believe that Zeus was the bad guy here, and to a point he's definitely fucking around and not actually planning on letting her out of confinement while also doing jack shit to get to the bottom of his own suspicions regarding his son... but also girl, if your plan was to prove to Zeus that you had filled your end of the bargain, then why try and give him the letter prior to your once-a-year inspection? Either you're failed again over some arbitrary made-up bullshit reason so you can use the guilt-trip method after he's already screwed you over, or best case, you pass and you can deliver the letter to Hades yourself! It was a really dumb move on her part to immediately jump to asking him to bend the rules he made for her when she should know Zeus isn't gonna feel obligated to 'owe' her anything, and is completely contrary to her being as "smart and cunning" as the narrative tries to make us believe (remember when she hustled Hades at chess and lied to him about having a driver's license? where's that Persephone?)

And yeah Zeus really isn't wrong when it comes to how Persephone herself is such a "uwu look at me I'm a smol widdle baby girl, please break the terms of my punishment for me because I asked with tented eyebrows bats eyelashes" , this is honestly why so many people like Zeus as a character in LO contrary to how much the narrative tries to make us hate him, because while he's absolutely an asshole who deserves to be knocked down a peg, at least the narrative doesn't try to gaslight us into thinking he's a good person like it does with H x P. Zeus is a shithead but unapologetically authentic; Persephone and Hades both pretend like they're saints on earth (and the narrative tries to sell them to us as such) meanwhile they're constantly picking on lower class people and using their power and influence to get their way even when they haven't earned it.

But also yeah, it's funny how the fans will say "age doesn't matter when you're a god, time doesn't mean anything when you're immortal" to dismiss the massive age gap between Hades and Persephone, but then cry foul over Zeus keeping her in confinement for 10 years which is a pretty bare ass minimum sentence when you really think about it. Like, if the passage of time really is that inconsequential to a god, then how is 10 years even a punishment? It's only suddenly seen as a massively unfair punishment when it's Persephone who's suffering it.

[lovelytsunoda]

sweet creature// pato o ward

summary: pato is in a romantic mood and wants to make love to his sweetheart around all of her favourite things.

pairing: pato o ward x female reader!

warnings: smut!! pato being an absolute sweetheart. he fucks her in front of a window so she can watch the sunset but the window doesn’t actually overlook and spots where they can be seen

authors note: why do I keep writing other stuff while the arthur leclerc first time fic rots in my drafts and the last two tina series fics are starting to collect dust-

all was calm and quiet in the reading room as she sat with her book, manicured fingers gently flipping the page before she turned to the end, trying not to read the last sentence as she counted how many pages she had left.

truth be told, the smut scenes in this book had been a little much for her. she loved the story and she loved the characters, but the rough intensity of the sex just wasn’t doing it for her. sure, it still had her clenching her thighs together, but if anyone ever spoke to her in the bedroom the way that the male lead spoke to his girlfriend, she was likely to burst out into tears.

sure, she and her boyfriend had experimented with tons things before and they’d probably had sex on almost every surface of the house, but the one reassuring constant was that pato always spoke to her like she was the most important person in the world, how he looked at her like she’d hung the moon, even when he was balls deep inside of her.

and how he was willing to recreate almost any scene in a romance book, putting his own little flair on every scene they tried.

she really didn’t know how she had gotten this lucky.

she had just turned back to the trials and tribulations of josh chen and jules ambrose when she felt two hands clamp down on her shoulders. she jumped, screaming as the book fell from her hands.

“patricio! what the fuck?”

behind her, pato laughed, coming around the ikea couch to settle in beside her, nuzzling his nose into her chest.

“you’re all sweaty.” she whined, but made no move to push him away. “what have I said about taking a shower when you were done conditioning?”

“I just wanted to see my girl.” pato argued halfheartedly, peppering kisses to her neck while he muttered sweet nothings in spanish. “I love you most.”

“love you too, darling.” she smiled, leaning over to kiss him. “I’ve got a new book scene I wanna try.”

patos eyes lit up, and he sat ramrod straight before he leaned down to pick up the abandoned copy of ‘twisted hate’. “can i tell you something?”

“mhm.” she nodded, fingers playing with the hem of her sundress.

“I’ve read this one already.” pato laughed. “I borrowed a copy from coltons girlfriend.”

she laughed, brushing her hair behind her ear. “honey, why would you do that?”

“because I knew that you’d read the first two and I wanted to know why you loved them so much.”

“so you know what scene I want to try?”

“fuck yeah I do.” he grinned, scooping y/n into his arms as he gets up from the couch, spinning gently in a circle before placing her back on her feet, his hands sliding up the skirt of her dress to grip her ass gently. “lean back against the bookshelf, corazon.” he kissed her softly, his nose tracing a path across her skin until his warm breath touched her ear. “just let me make you feel good.”

she backed towards the bookshelf, pulling pato towards her by the hem of his workout shirt. feeling the shelf hit her back. she leaned up to kiss him, all tongue and teeth as his wandering hands gripped her skin, his tongue exploring her mouth.

“you’re so sexy.” pato muttered, trailing kisses across her collarbone as she moaned gently, resting her head against the ikea shelf, one leg curling around her lovers.

patos hand slipped between her legs, cupping her core in his palm, her breath hitching at the contact.

“I hear you, love. im right here, just relax for me.” pato murmured, hands slipping under the waistband of her floral panties as he sank to his knees.

he looked up at her with his wide, hazel eyes, hair mussed as he began to slowly trail her panties down her legs. the look in his eyes made her heart melt. the look of love, the look he gave her when he was so utterly smitten that he didn’t even have the words to explain it.

she rested one leg over his shoulder, her face flushed as pato threw her panties off to the side, the whole world shrinking down to the point where all that mattered was the two of them. he kissed up her thigh, gently massaging her skin with the hand that was holding her leg in place.

“babe, be careful, what if I lose my balance?” she laughed lightly, taking her fingers through his hair, using the other hand to hike up the skirt of her sundress.

“I’ll catch you before you hit the ground.”he answered matter of factly. “you know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

the moment his tongue touched where she needed him most, every worry or apprehensive thought evaporated. she leaned back against the bookshelf, moaning as her lover moved his tongue in slow, deliberate circles. she felt every sensation in nerves down to her toes.

as he picked up the pace, adjusting his angle to suck her clit into his mouth, she dropped the hem of her dress, nails scraping against particle board as she tried to keep herself steady.

“fuck, right there. god, I love your tongue.”

“it does so many wonderful things, doesn’t it?” pato laughed, pulling away to look up at her with a cheeky grin, his hair messy and staticky from the fabric of her dress.

“yes, now please put it back inside me.”

“you’re cute. I just want to give you things. like kisses and orgasms.” pato hummed, slipping his tongue between her folds, closing his eyes in a moment of bliss as he worked his tongue inside of her.

she moaned, closing her eyes and tilting her head back, gently grinding against patos face, his tongue still working in and out of her as one of his hands came up to hold hers, her fingernails digging into the back of his hand.

“oh, babe, I think I’m close.”

“just let go, darling. I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

pato held her tightly, moving her hips gently against his face as he helped her through her high, evidence of her orgasm coating his face as he let her go, placing her shaky leg back on the ground as he stood up, wiping his face off on the bottom of his workout shirt before kissing her softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.” she laughed gently, pressing her body against his. he was hard, his cock poking at her body through his under armour sweats. “look at the sunset. it’s beautiful.”

pato smiled, pulling away from the hug to look out the picture window, where the sky was lit up in pink and orange as the sun began its descent. “it’s not as beautiful as you are.”

“aren’t you romantic.” she laughed, leaning over the back on the couch to watch the sun sink behind the trees, propping up her chin with her hand.

pato hugs her from behind, gently pressing kisses to her shoulders. “I have an idea.” he says in a sing-song tone.

“oh yeah?” she asks, a lilt of nonchalance in her voice as she places one of her hands over his. “what is it?”

“this.” pato says simply, pressing his hard on up against her bare ass, hiking her dress skirt up her waist. “let me make love to you in the sunlight, pretty girl. let me make you feel pretty.”

she giggled, leaning back against him as he started to undo the drawstring on his sweats. “take it away, lover boy.”

“with pleasure.”

he rolled his hips, slipping his cock inside of her in one solid movement. she braved her body against the back of the couch, their bodies illuminated by the setting sun as pato pulled her in by the waist, resting his head on her shoulder.

“fuck, pato, I love your cock.” she moaned, reaching behind her head to tangle her fingers in his hair, bucking her hips back against his.

he kept the gentle, soothing pace, thumbs rubbing circles on her skin as he kissed her neck.

“te amo, querida” pato spoke soft, sucking a hickey into her neck.

they would keep it up until the sun went down, going for another round tangled in the plush blankets on the floor, staring at the stars and laughing about nothing and everything.

and she knew that this was the way she would want it to be forever.

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @thatsdemko @oconso @lorarri @httpiastri @clemswrld @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @scuderiasundays @silverstonesainz @userlando

[cosmicjoke]

I swear, if I see one more ho on this site trying to frame Levi's childhood as somehow positive or otherwise not completely horrific, I'm gonna' kill a bitch. I'm not going to name names, because I don't want to start drama, but Jesus, I can't take it anymore.

The latest and greatest stupidity I've come across is the claim that Levi's monologue to the 104th during the Uprising arc was somehow meant to be read as Levi expressing how "well-adjusted" he is because he'd been conditioned to respond to urgent situations without hesitation due to the hardship of his childhood. This is such classic abuse-apologist shit, I don't even know what to say. It's essentially claiming that Levi is only able to be so effective and level-headed and reliable because he's been through traumatic events, and that his worth in those situations is a result of the abuse he suffered as a child. Again, this is also the classic take of people who love to deny Levi any credit in being the way he is, and instead, for obvious, ulterior reasons, want to give that credit to Kenny, or some other abusive piece of shit from Levi's past. News alert for folks who think this. Trauma doesn't make you stronger, it doesn't make you a better person, it doesn't help you or strengthen your character. If someone is able to overcome hardship or adversity, it's not because they've been through hardship or adversity, it's because they're just built, from jump, to overcome it. It's like a boxer who's never been knocked down before, and suddenly he's in a fight where he's knocked down hard. It's not the knock down that's going to get him through the rest of the fight and help him to win, it's his strength of character and will to win. It comes down, once again, to nature.

So many people who went through what Levi did would have ended up as complete basket cases, either totally unhinged and immoral, or so traumatized that they would be rendered paralyzed and controlled by that trauma. It's not the experiences that Levi went through that make him level-headed or reliable, it's simply his strength of character. It's in spite of his trauma that he's able to be as effective and reliable as he is, not because of it.

But this isn't to say that Levi isn't traumatized, like so many of these people also love to claim. Another gem from this post I saw was that we're not meant to see Levi as traumatized because he doesn't cry, and Isayama, supposedly, only conveys trauma in his characters through tears. I mean, that's hilarious, really. I guess when Kenny finds Levi in that room with the rotting corpse of his mother, we're meant to believe he's not been traumatized by it because he isn't crying. Never mind that Levi's lack of expression and essential muteness are both heavy indicators of severe trauma. This post would posit that one can't be as level-headed and reliable as Levi is and also be traumatized. That's also ridiculous. Again, this comes down to individuality and uniqueness of personality. Levi can be traumatized, but also still be as steadfast and unwavering as he is, because each person is going to respond differently to traumatic events based on their individual, inborn personality traits. And trauma also manifests in a number of different behaviors.

I've always said that Levi's stoicism in the face of all the horrors he's seen and been through isn't indicative of the deep and raw emotion we know Levi actually carries underneath, which tells us that Levi's lack of expression is, indeed, a trauma response. A coping mechanism. Levi isn't an emotionless character. His flat expression doesn't accurately depict or indicate what he's actually feeling. If it did, then Levi would be someone who felt nothing at the sight of death, or wasn't troubled or unsettled by the deaths of his friends and comrades. He would be someone who isn't moved at all by the suffering of others, but simply indifferent and uncaring.

But we know that isn't true. We know how important it is to Levi that people survive and how hard he works to protect their lives. We know how compassionate and kind Levi actually is, how greatly empathetic he is. So why, then, is it such a stretch in these people's minds, to suggest that Levi's flat expression is an obvious case of him actively suppressing his emotion in order to continue operating? This doesn't even seem like a question to me, or up to interpretation. It seems like an evident, objective fact about his character. Levi suppresses his emotion in order to keep functioning. We see this multiple times throughout the story. A good example of Levi actively suppressing his emotional response is when Kenny kills Nifa, and for a split second, we see the devastation in Levi's expression, before he visibly pushes it down and goes into action against Kenny's squad. Levi is clearly emotional here, and deeply, deeply upset. Seeing Nifa killed and then having to leave her behind is clearly having an intense and disruptive impact on Levi. But he represses the feelings in that moment. Again, that's an obvious coping mechanism in dealing with extreme, traumatizing circumstances. It isn't indicative of Levi being untouched or unimpacted by those things, it's indicative of Levi needing to disassociate from just how much those things are impacting him in order to carry on. You know, a trauma response. Repression of emotion isn't healthy, and isn't how someone who's perfectly "well-adjusted" would respond to these sorts of situations. It isn't normal. Crying is normal. Crying is a baseline, regular response to horrific things, in fact a proven, cathartic way to process trauma and work through it. The fact that Levi shuts all emotional reaction down when faced with those same, horrific things indicates someone who's been through way too much bad shit, and in order to remain functional, has to disassociate from what he's feeling. It isn't Levi processing his trauma and coming out the other side unaffected. It's Levi ignoring his trauma because he doesn't feel like he can afford to process it, either for himself or others.

This idea that Levi wasn't adversely impacted by what he went through as a child, but rather positively impacted, is not only laughable, but downright harmful in the sorts of ideas it perpetuates.

This particular post I saw was claiming that Levi was saying his ability to react quickly to fucked up situations was a good thing, as if he was expressing gratitude for being raised the way he was because it allowed him to "adapt" to extreme circumstances. What a load of horse shit. Levi wasn't talking about himself being "abnormal" as if it were a positive thing. He plainly frames it as a negative. He says "Maybe I'm abnormal because I've seen way too many abnormal things", before going on to express how he's willing to take on the role of a "lunatic that kills people" as long as it spares anyone else from having to go through the same. He's plainly expressing here how he knows the things he's gone through have fucked him up and caused him to have abnormal, some might even call deviant behavior, and his expressed desire to spare others from having to go through the same and end up like him is a clear as crystal indicator that he doesn't view his childhood in any kind of positive light, or as something necessary or good. He wants to keep people from ending up like him. That isn't Levi bragging about how "well-adjusted" he is.

Yes, Levi is a remarkably together person, and considering all the truly horrific things he's been through, it's really extraordinary that he's as level-headed, and even more so, as kind and compassionate as he is. That he isn't more fucked up. But that comes down to Levi himself, not the way he was raised. To imply or claim that Levi views the way he was raised positively shows an absurd lack of reading comprehension at best, and is disingenuous at worst. Levi is only as together as he is because he's a strong person. Because he has the strength of character and the fortitude of character not to let his trauma destroy or control him. But that doesn't mean he isn't traumatized. It just means he's a better person than most, someone who, regardless of his trauma, cares deeply about others, and as a result, forces himself to hold it together for their sake, regardless of the consequences to his own well being. His trauma clearly impacts him, but he's just a strong enough person that he doesn't let it define him.

[lactosa2]

Yep, another of Omen bc im in love

STANDING ON BUISSNES

5:34 AM

You were in the kitchen preparing something to eat when you felt a hand on your shoulder, the sudden contact in the middle of the darkness made you jump and look back in shock, you laughed softly with a hand on your chest while Omen looked at you confused.

"Omen…" you whispered with a small laugh of relief and swallowed, standing up straight and waiting for him to say something, which he didn't. "What happened?" You asked and looked at him calmer, knowing that he wouldn't bother you for anything.

He didn't respond, he was too embarrassed to speak or declare himself, he just wanted you, as always, to read his mind and support him, your hand grabbed his in silence and then you nodded, he didn't let you let go of his hand and took you to the room. another section of the base, where his bonsai was located

Once there you yawned and sat in the nearest chair, letting go of his hand. "So… Cypher is still charging you?" You asked, your voice quiet and sleepy.

For a long time, Omen had been begging Cypher to help him discover his past, it was not until Iso appeared in the scene that Cypher agreed, only with the condition that Omen would have to pay him an absurd amount, the main problem, Omen did not He really has income, the supplies for weaving were a gift from Sage and the bonsai is part of the protocol greenhouse, only it is under his personal care, unlike the others, Omen was not human nor did he cover basic needs, therefore he never They gave him a salary, now it is a bigger problem

"I don't know what I'll do…" he whispered embarrassedly as he focused on his bonsai, he didn't change it but he did stare at it, clinging to those thin branches, with the only hope that everything would be okay. "Think positive, he couldn't kill you," you said, trying to joke as you got up from the chair and walked over to him, your hand caressing his shoulder.

"How much is it?" You whispered with a serious voice - "You're not going to-" Omen tried to protest but you interrupted him, "how much" he remained silent, you knew he wouldn't let you pay for him, you knew he felt ashamed of not having a salary as such, And although he had it, it was still not enough, and at the rate of his income it would never be.

"120,000 credits" he said with a low voice, you were surprised and gasped in disbelief why Cypher would charge him so much, you didn't complain, but you took a deep breath and nodded. "I'll deposit it for you tomorrow," Omen's body language froze, not believing that you would pay his debt for him. "You don't have to," he complained and turned around standing upright, looking intimidating because of how tall he is. (yummy)

"just accepts that I'm going to do this for you" you wanted to explain to him that you appreciated his friendship and would help him, but you understood that it would be difficult for him to believe only in words. You once told him that you would do anything for him, and a number is no obstacle to promises, and he needed actions.

He nodded shyly, your hand went to the side of what would be his face, his aura was calmer and more relaxed, without warning, Omen brought both arms around your torso and hid his head in your shoulder, pressing you against him. . You didn't complain, you just laughed softly and hugged him back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

"Your rice burned," Omen whispered in your ear as the smoke alarm began to sound throughout most of the base. "I know," you whispered back, laughing softly when he held you close to him.

[idrawfunkythings]

DCAtober Day 30: Trick or Treat

Words: 1,500+ Summary: Halloween is here!

hi so i literally just remembered this was sitting half done in my drafts, and i think its cute so i'm posting it in january and you can't stop me!!!! also im lowkey procrastinating finishing chapter five of sunshine and nightlights so this works for me

Sun and Moon had been through many a Halloween at the daycare. Moon loved it - Sun, not so much. The kids would come in dressed in their itty bitty costumes, they’d spend the day doing crafts and meets with the Glamrocks, and they’d be sent home with a handful of candy. Unfortunately, the day always invited the extra chaos that had Sun’s wires tight with stress.

So it wasn’t like they were unfamiliar with the holiday.

However, when you had told Sun that you had to buy a bag of mixed chocolates during your biweekly grocery run, for the kids in your apartment block to come by and trick or treat, his rays had spun with such enthusiasm that a cool breeze had graced your face. Him and Moon had been more than happy to decorate the door with cobwebs and plastic spiders, and they’d even whipped up a costume for you with the clothes in your wardrobe.

You are currently sitting on the couch in said costume, Ash from Pokémon. Sun had given you your blue jeans, trainers, a white shirt and red cap, as well as a “vest” (an old blue tshirt he’s cut down the middle). He3giggled like a little kid when you’d emerged fully clothed, before telling you to wait outside and slamming the bedroom door.

You’re scrolling on Instagram, idly liking some posts that your friends from highschool had made showcasing their own outfits for the night, when Sun’s artificial noise of clearing his throat startles you and makes you look up.

“What do you think?” he asks proudly.

You think he looks adorable.

He’s in some Pikachu onesie that you’re 90% sure he got off of Facebook marketplace, judging by the worn condition, but somehow manages to fit his frame. His top rays have been retracted, leaving just the sides sticking out, reminding you of the Eggman logo from Sonic. You giggle to yourself.

“Sun, I choose you!” you say dramatically, grabbing a tennis ball from the coffee table (where Moon keeps it when he’s not bouncing it against a wall) and throwing it at Sun’s chest. He bobs down into a ball and springs forwards, tackling you and pinning you to the couch.

“Hey, you’re meant to fight for me!” you laugh, pushing his face away from yours. Sun shrugs, wiggling his fingers.

“Us Pokémon have decided to rise up against the opressive system of keeping us trapped until a human deigns us useful!” he declares, sitting back to gesture out to his imaginary audience. “No longer can you enslave us, we shall now be free!”

“Don’t Pokémon like their trainers, and get a nice and cushy house out of the deal?” you try, but Sun covers your mouth with a hand and waggles a finger.

“Silence, human! Now, I will electrocute you!”

Instead of actually frying you to a crisp, Sun tickles you until you’re a mess of laughs and gasps begging for mercy. When he finally stops, you collapse back on the couch.

“Oh, Pikachu, thank you for sparing me. However can I repay you?’

Sun tilts his head, pretending to think. “Maybe you could do us the favour of opening the door for the trick or treaters?”

“What tr-” you’re cut off by the doorbell ringing, and the muffled giggles of children. “You and your freaky thermal vision.”

“We prefer to call it useful, but that works too!” Sun bounds off of the couch, swiping the bowl of candy from the bench in the kitchen and waiting patiently at the door for you. “Whenever you’re ready, darling.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, and you roll your eyes at him. “You are perfectly capable of opening a door on your own,” you say, even as you get up and turn the handle.

Instantly, three small children jump forwards, pillowcases raised in greeting. “Trick or treat!”

Sun holds a hand to his chest and gasps. “Oh my goodness, you scared me! What big teeth you all have!”

The children beam even wider. They’re all dressed as vampires, with itty bitty fangs and capes. The one in the middle, a kid of about four, has his hair slicked back like Draco Malfoy in Harry Potter. You pretend to cower behind Sun.

“Oh, please don’t bite me! I’m scared of vampires!”

The oldest, a little girl with pigtails, laughs loudly. “We won’t bite you, it’s just a costume!” She pulls off her fangs to prove it. “See?”

“You look very convincing as a vampire,” Sun says seriously. “Now, I’m sure I have some candy around here. Ah! Do you children like broccoli?”

The three all scrunch up their faces. “NO!”

Sun facepalms. “Silly me! Here, I’ve got some chocolate bars for you. Don’t take too many, other kids will be coming by soon!”

Once the treats have all been doled out, the kids wave enthusiastically. “Happy Halloween!” Just around the corner, you can see their parents watching them, clearly wanting to let them have a chance to feel independant but still making sure they’re safe. You wave to them, and they smile back.

The rest of the evening goes exactly as planned. When kids come past, Sun compliments their costume and does some funny act to make them laugh, then lets them choose some candy. It’s only the kids in your apartment block, all somewhat familiar faces, but you can see how Sun lights up with each new child.

After a pair of twins dressed as Mabel and Dipper from Gravity Falls (you gave them extra candy for the Grunkle Stan they had chaperoning them) you shut the door tentatively. “Sun… would you and Moon want to work with kids again?”

Sun freezes for a moment, and that ever present panic that they’ve overheated blooms, but he speaks as you’re about to ask if he’s okay. “We… we would love to.”

“Maybe you should.” You point at the door. “I’ve seen how much you miss them.”

Sun holds his hands anxiously. “Robots are not very acceptable as child carers outside of Fazbear, I’m afraid.”

“Who knows? Animatronics have been gaining more rights lately - it’s worth a try, right?”

“We…” Sun trails off, and you’re both interrupted by another trick or treater. Before you open the door, you cast a glance to him.

“Think about it, okay?”

Sun jumps right into his routine when he greets the child, and you don’t bring it up again when they leave.

At 7 o’clock, trick or treating is well and truly over. You bid Sun goodnight and flip off the switches, not at all surprised when metal arms encircle you the moment it’s dark.

“Hi, Moonie,” you say, leaning back against his chest. “Miss me?”

“I always do,” he says quietly, pressing his faceplate to the top of your head. “Nice costume.”

“Oh, you like it?” you twist out of his grip, ready to show off your look, and gasp excitedly. “Moon! You look adorable!”

From his face you can see that is not what he was going for, but you don’t know how else to describe the sight of him in a Snorlax onesie. Yellow peeks out from inside, which you suspect means Sun’s original outfit is reversible.

“Brat,” Moon mutters, but he’s smiling. “Not going to try catch me?”

You shake your head. “I firmly believe in the rights of any non human creatures and that they do not deserve to be kept in inhumane conditions for my convenience.��

It took a lot of effort to keep from stumbling over the words, but it’s worth it to hear Moon’s laugh. He pokes your chest. “Too much time with Sunny. My turn.”

“Well, I’ve heard that on Halloween the best thing to do is snuggle up close and watch scary movies,” you say casually, walking past him and flopping onto the couch. “And if a movie gets too scary, I might need someone to cuddle me and stave off the nightmares.”

Moon looks around the apartment and sighs synthetically. “I guess since no one else is here, I can take on that burden.”

“You’re so noble.” You move over so he has more space, but yelp in surprise when he picks you up by your hips to settle you in his lap. He shrugs.

“Just doing my job.” He pulls a blanket out from the basket by the couch and covers you up, starting up a faint heat within his body. “What are we watching?”

“Hmmm.” You fumble for the remote. “Nightmare on Elm Street?”

Moon makes a face.

“Scream?”

He eyes you in disappointment.

“Hey, these are good movies!” you protest. “Fine, you pick.”

Moon’s eyes flicker, indicating that he’s scanning lists of movies to pick one. When his eyes settle back to their red glow, he grins. “Coraline?”

“Really? I didn’t think you’d be a fan.”

“Sun says it looks good.”

“Oh, well if Sun says.”

Moon flicks your head. “Brat. Put the movie on.”

“Okay, okay! Doing it now!” you pull up the film and lean back into Moon’s chest. “Happy Halloween, Snorlax.”

He laughs quietly and presses his mouth against your head. “Happy Halloween, star.”

[rookiesbookies]

Seeing your hc of greek god!ghost made me think of how much of a disaster it'll be if he found someone he's into only for them to get cold easily and wears like 5+ layers everywhere they go

So I have bad circulation and a neurological condition that makes my extremities get very cold, which is why I believe I am qualified to write this. There’s nothing I love more than grabbing my partner with my cold fingers or touching him with my cold feet, my friends are also victims. As I write this one of my hands is ice cold and the other is a completely normal temp. Wish he was here so I could rub my hands over where he’s ticklish and make him shiver (im evil)

I had a lot of fun writing this ask, I do want to do more with this AU later so I love getting asks about it but I do need to clean up my master list😭

Fic under the cut

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!

Price was sent a younger maiden one other time. She had been just under the age he liked and he truthfully believed she would work better with someone else.

SO he delivered her to Simon’s doorstep in the underworld. Simon looked through the peep hole to see you holding a pie and a note from Price. When he opened the door and read the note (something along the lines of : she’s too young for me but seems more like your type) he tried to shut the door. Luckily for you, the future mother in law was there - Persephone was not having any of her son’s shit.

She quickly read the note herself and set you down, sending Simon to go make tea while she got a good look at you. Poor thing, so nervous, dropped on this doorstep, she wasn’t having any of it.

Then she noticed how cold your hands were and cursed her husband for giving their son such cold hands, he was always so clammy he just had to pass it on.

She quickly yelled for Simon who rushed in with the tea, telling him to start a fire.

You tried to tell her it wasn’t a problem with a nervous smile and laugh but she wouldn’t listen. So you told both you didn’t want to be a bother.

“Ya think yer cold?” Simon said sharply before grabbing your ankle with an ice cold hand from the floor where he was sitting trying to start the fire, the sudden chill made you let out a soft shriek. He giggled behind the mask.

Persephone saw that. She heard it too.

“I'm calling Hades and we’re planning the wedding!”

Simon’s eyes bulged out of his head.

“I can’t marry someone I’ve just met,” you awkwardly laughed between sips of tea.

“Well it takes time to plan a wedding, you’ll both know each other quite well by the time it comes around!”

Simon groaned, “just because you and Hades-”

“Shush!” And Simon shut up quickly.

And with that, Persephone fled the house.

“I would have thought because of how she was taken by Hades-”

“Stockholm syndrome, I'm sure of it,” Simon grumbled. Pulling off his fur cloak and throwing it over you. “I’ll sleep on the couch until I can sort this out.”

“Oh but I can’t take your bed from you-”

“Did I ask?”

You shake your head and quietly sip your tea.

Now lets time jump just a bit. Assume they both bond at some point and a month or so passes, they’re trying to cuddle, right?

There’s nothing that brings Simon more joy than torturing you with his cold hands. Making you whine and shove them under your arms to warm them.

“You’re colder than a dead body!”

“Why do ya think the lads call me Ghost, love?”

After more time, he chooses a new favorite place to warm his hands.

“Simon, we are at dinner! You can’t do that in front of others!” You hushly yelled at him.

“Come on, they’d be jealous that's all, not judgin ya!” He laughed.

“Simon this is so embarrassing,” you mumbled. His hands gently holding your tits. One hand over each.

“It’s my favorite place to warm em.” He shrugged then grumbled. “Plus Johnny made a comment about ya rack and I gotta remind him whose it is.”

You let out a whine, “your hands are so cold! I didn’t sign up for temperature play!”

He chuckles, “here, I’ll distract you. Two goldfish are in a tank-”

“You’ve told me this one so many times,” you giggled as he massaged your chest with his cold hands. You smacked his hand, “I'm only doing this to warm up your hands, this isn’t touchy time.”

He groaned in disappointment. “Price wouldn’t notice or care!”

“Oh he definitely would, especially if it was at his dinner table!”

“What are ya love birds whisperin on about?” Johnny holard from the other room.

“SHUT.” Was all Simon had to yell back.

[cassiana-on-dark-side]

"This is an excerpt from my memoir, "Love and Truth”.

Roger Waters

This is a true story of My love for two animals Both wild in their own way Which I read to the audience at a Live performance of DSOTM REDUX At the London Palladium On the day after October 7th 2023. Yes, The Campaign Against Anti-Semitism Were outside the Theater that day trying to cancel me. Free Palestine! From the River to the Sea! ✊🏻🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

So Chocolate Charlie Brown was my third brown Burmese cat. This is a drawing of him and his friend Lilly, an Abyssinian, above the skirting board on the wall of my youngest son Jack’s room in the early nineties. This story isn’t about Chocolate Charlie Brown, well, just this first little bit is, but the rest is about a Duck called Donald. First though a brief history of Chocolate Charley Brown, I got him through Keith Butt, the vet in Knightsbridge where I used to take pets to be euthanized on Sunday mornings if they were beyond repair. Like Cloudy for instance, my daughter India’s pet gerbil, she was beyond repair, cancer, (Cloudy that is, not India), poor little scrap. So into the Merc we jumped one Sunday morning after breakfast, Cloudy and I, well Cloudy didn’t exactly jump in, if truth be told, I had to help her in, in her little cage, just the two of us, the condemned Cloudy and me, and a cardboard box for later. Bloody hell, I’m getting a bit weepy. Off to Keith Butt, Mr Butt was already cognizant of Cloudy’s condition, so, look the other way, is it over? The trick before bringing the deceased home was to make her look comfy in her little cardboard box, arranged curled up resting in eternal peace with a garland of forget me nots. After lunch, down the garden, spade in hand, a not very heavy cardboard box, a little girl’s hand, held tightly in mine. Job done.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, Chocolate Charley Brown. The day he arrived he was a wee brown scrap and scared shitless, so I took him upstairs to the bedroom for a settle in. He ran straight under the bed and wouldn’t come out, so I took off my cowboy boots and got into bed in my jeans and dangled enticing things like feathers on bits of string in front of the dark places under the bed. Sure enough after about half an hour the hunting gene emerged and so did CCB’s little paw. I enticed him out into the open and then scooped him up and stuffed him under the covers next to my big warm leg. I was wearing a brown leather belt to hold my jeans up. I’ve still got it, it’s got a silver tip that always flops down. I was sitting up in the bed reading when I saw a tiny paw reach out and bat at the dangling silver bit on the end of my belt. We said hello, and we were inseparable after that. What a magnificent animal CCB was, beloved by all. Well obviously not all, all. He was not beloved by rodents or birds or Brian the gamekeeper from Kimbridge Farms next door. I saw CCB limping one day, favouring his off hind. I couldn’t find anything amiss, nothing broken, but, just to be sure I took him to the local vet for an X-Ray. Bugger me! Three #5 shot gun pellets in his rear end. I went to see Brian.

“Er Brian?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Happy Christmas Brian, there’s a hundred quid.”

“Thank you very much Sir!”

“You’re very welcome…….. Brian, If that big old brown cat of mine is still alive next Christmas there’ll be another hundred, and so on until he dies of natural causes.”

“I hear you Mr Waters, can I ask you a favour?”

“Anything Brian”

“Could you put a fluorescent collar on ‘im sir? Make my job a lot easier, that would.”

Anyway, one summer I hear the cat flap bang, and in comes CCB with, as usual, something dead in his mouth. He flops down in front of the AGA Stove, (half central heating, half cooking, much beloved in posh country kitchens) panting.

“What you got there Charlie?”

“Oh nothing much, just a newly hatched duckling, I’ve already eaten all it’s siblings and I’m a bit full. I’m just gonna rest here for a minute and then eat this‘un later and then I might go for a kip in the laundry room.”

“Jesus Christ Charlie, let’s have a look, oh for fuck’s sake it’s still wet.”

“Cats will be cats son”

“Jesus! Come on little‘un it’s the bin for you. Fuck me it’s still breathing, Jesus! Charley!”

“Oi! where are you going, I was looking forward that.”

So I put the wet scrap of baby bird, bits of shell and all, out of reach of the magnificent beast and went in search of a shoe box. Got one. Screwdriver for holes. Dap, dap, dap, dap, dap, dap, dap, dap, dap, dap. That’s enough, it’ll never live anyway. Where to put it? I know, guest bathroom on the radiator.

Next morning drinking coffee. Halfway through second cup….! The shoebox! I better go and clear up the remains. So, I run up the stairs and go into the guest bathroom.

“Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi”

Fuck me! Open the lid. Oh my god it’s a fluffy brown golf ball with a little yellow face and a line of mascara through its eye!

“Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi “

“Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi”

“Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi?”

“Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi?”

“Tsi Tsi Tsi”

“Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi Tsi”

Translation; Mallard to English.

“Mummy, Mummy, Mummy, Mummy, Mummy,

I’m hungry, I’m hungry, I’m hungry, I’m hungry, I’m hungry,

Where have you been?

Where have you been?

I was frightened,

Mummy, Mummy, Mummy, Mummy, Mummy.”

It was Donald.

“Fuck me! ……….. What do they eat?”

“What about milk ?”

“Milk! Don’t be stupid, when did you ever see a duck with tits?”

Ducklings should be fed a diet of mealworms and plant matter at an early age, though grasses tend to make baby ducks bloat. Wild ducks tend to stick to whatever bugs they find, and they will eat food that is fed to them by park visitors or guests. Bread has been long regarded as a bad thing to feed wild birds.

“Oi, no bread!”

I probably went out to try and catch bugs on the river that runs through the garden. Duh! Have you ever tried to catch a bug? Exactly! It probably didn’t take me long to read up on it.(Roger all through your life you’ll be faced with many challenges, my advice is to read, read, read, read. Thanks Mum.) Dried mealy worms mixed with crushed barley or oats, and water of course. Donald stayed in the guest bathroom for the first week or so, except of course at my bath time when he came into the master bathroom for bath time with me.

What bliss, my own duck to play with in the bath. Donald loved bath time, swimming about and then coming up onto Mummy’s chest for a snuggle and a bit of chin peck preen time, then back into the warm water.

What has always intrigued me is how can something that small produce that volume of duck shit? I mean, the guest bathroom floor was knee deep after a couple of weeks. I know you think I’m exaggerating; you’re thinking.

“How could it possibly be knee deep?”

“Ah, well that’s because you’re thinking Mummy knee deep, I’m talking Donald knee deep, which as you can see from the photo is only about half an inch.”

Anyway Donald grew and grew, I taught him to swim in the bath, even thought of buying him a plastic duck to play with……..no I didn’t!

The guest bathroom started to pong a bit, and it was a warm summer, so I decided to build Donald a run in the garden. We had a very small stream, only about a foot wide, that ran from a parallel carrier stream across the lawn under some cherry trees to the main river. Perfect.

I got some chicken wire and built an enclosure which spanned the stream. Running water, fox proof, enough bank for a snooze, in sight of the chairs on the logia, heaven. The long summer days of, what? 1993? Passed. Donald grew and grew, never losing his attachment to me, his Mummy. We used to go for walks together down the garden, never too close to the main river, I was always afraid of him falling in. Stupid I know. I was living at the time with Pricilla, my Jack’s mum, and we were in the habit of sitting on the logia at the cocktail hour with a very large vodka and cranberry juice each. I know, I know, but in those days we didn’t know any better. Anyway, Donald would always come and sit with us and preen a bit and quack-le quietly until bedtime. I’m not sure how many months passed before one day I looked at Donald and I thought, fuck me shouldn’t his head be starting to turn green? Christ almighty! Donald’s a girl! Well, too late to change his/her name now. Thank god, (NTTIAG) as far as we know, ducks don’t have pronoun issues.

One day, as September approached, I was looking at Donald over the rim of my vodka glass thinking, that duck looks almost full grown, when another thought occurred to me………………………..?

“Christ she can’t fly.”

So I called her over and picked her up and held her between my thumb and the four fingers of my right hand, half way between her lovely neck and her beautiful webbed feet, like a fat feathered paper dart, and pointing her slightly up, launched her forward. She didn’t even flap her wings, just nosedived into the turf at my feet, looked over her shoulder at me disapprovingly and waddled off to lick her wounded pride.

“Jesus Mummy! Why’d you do that?”

It was a conundrum, how to teach Donald to fly, until one day walking down the edge of one of the paddocks on my way to give Mossy Fern (Retired racehorse) some polos, I was going too fast for Donald who broke into a stumbling waddle-y run and then instinctively put out her wings and flapped and flew for about five yards before crashing. Eureka! We started to practice every day and before long if I broke into a run she would fly beside me at shoulder height,

“Look at me Mummy I’m flying!”

She didn’t fly away. Until one day she did.

“Where’s Donald?”

“I don’t know I haven’t seen her.”

I’m a bit weepy writing this………I mean it was great that she’d gone off with her friends to the barley stubble or wherever they went, but……………well it left a big hole.

Then a couple of days later, a few ducks landed by the bridge, below the top pool, near the house, when we were sitting in front of the logia with our Vodkas and cranberry juice, and one of them swam over, calmly climbed the steps out of the river, walked across the lawn and sat down next to us.

“Hello Donald.”

“Quack, quack,”

She did that several more times that September, until finally she didn’t.

I confess, though it pains me to admit it, before 1993, I would occasionally take the odd barley fed mallard off the river in September, delicious.

That was thirty years ago.

I never did it again."

via substack © by Roger Waters

[justsome-stars]

Embrace it - Redscape

College/University AU - 2,000+ words - Beta read by @boxbugdotcom

Notes: I haven’t actually posted anything ive written since Middle School, so im a bit skeptical on how well received this will be. My friend did beta read it and said it was really good, so I’ll be trusting his word. Let me know if i should post more writing, i guess? Soft criticism is welcome!

Story below the cut!

Trying to catch your cat from running away and leg braces dont mix well. Scar had to learn this the hard way.

His dorm-mate left the door open to bring in some packages and Jellie took her chances at dashing out of the door. Scar nearly screamed, jumping up from his chair and trying his very best to catch up to the mischievous cat.

There was a violent prodding in his legs, metal bars shifting and knocking at his shins as he ran down the corridor, or tried to, at least. Jellie had made it to the T in the corridor, making a sharp turn to dart down the other side of the hall.

A door opened in front of Jellie, blocking her path. Her head nearly collided with the wood of the door, if it weren’t for a perfectly timed foot blocking her body from going any further. She yowled in alarm, skidding to a halt and dropping to the floor.

A lengthy, immaculately dressed man stepped out from the door, retracting his foot and leaning down to check on the frightened cat. He cooed at Jellie, offering his hand for her to sniff. She did so, however opting to rub her cheek against the hand presented to her. The black haired man giggled, petting her happily.

Scar gasped for air, doing his best to catch up, but the grating metal against his legs began to sting with every hit. He had only just rounded the corner when his leg locked in a straight stretched position and he stumbled into the wall, clutching it for support.

“Jellie!” Scar yelped, scanning the hall for the runaway cat.

She sat at the other man’s knees, nearly climbing into his lap, practically grinning as she was showered with attention, which halted as soon as Scar called for her. Scar groaned, trying to hobble to her.

The man looked up from Jellie, standing quickly. Jellie looked at him confused, but turned to peer down the hall with him.

Scar had finally gotten somewhat closer, to which the man who had been previously pampering Jellie with pets ran to his aid. Jellie begrudgingly followed.

“A—Are you ok?” He asked, with a thick british accent, concerned. He was practically shaking, anxiously scanning for what may have happened. He quickly caught on to the braces on Scar’s legs, one of which was locked tightly.

Scar looked up, eyes widening as he recognized the man. He had seen him countless times around campus, even sharing a class with him a semester ago, and several group projects. Joel had teased him a few times, urging him to talk to the ravenette outside of classes. Scar always denied, far too embarrassed to say something. But he was talking to him first, so surely he could muster up some sort of response, right?

“Uh—” Scar paled, eyes locking with Mumbo’s. The taller man falters, quickly looking away. “Yeah—I mean yes. Yeah I’m great. Stellar.”

Mumbo’s brows furrowed, caught off guard by Scar’s attempt of a response. “Are—are you sure? You were limping…”

“Huh….yeah, yeah. Just fine. Wonderful.” Scar continued, hurriedly looking away. “You….you haven’t happened to have seen a cat run past have you?” He asked, unaware of the cat that sat on the floor beside him.

“I did. She uh….oh.” Mumbo stopped, looking around and then down, stooping down to pick Jellie up. She obliged, leaning against Mumbo’s chest as he stands back up. “Right here.”

Scar sighs in relief, scowling lightly at the cat, perched smugly in the tall man’s arms. “There you are, Jellie. You really cant do that. You know i cant keep up…” Scar rambled, talking to the cat as though she understood.

It brought a smile to Mumbo’s lips, but it faltered when he remembered the condition Scar was in. “Would you…um. Can i help you? Your brace, did it lock? The support rods look like they’ve gotten loose, or maybe something disconnected? If you want, we can get you to my dorm and i can help you?”

Going to a pretty guy’s dorm? Sign him the hell up.

“Yes! I mean, yeah. That would be nice.” Scar smiled, looking down to his leg.

Mumbo nods, offering a hand to Scar, who gladly takes it. With his assistance, and the wall for support, Scar made it to the open dorm door. Mumbo guides him inside and brings him to a pleasant looking couch, allowing him to sit down. Scar sighed in relief, the pressure on his legs from standing no longer an issue. He let his body sink into the couch, smiling up to Mumbo in thanks.

The taller man smiled back, allowing Scar to get comfortable before running into a room. Once he was out of sight, it made Scar question his surroundings.

The room he was in was considerably big, furnished neatly with bookshelves on nearly every wall. A built in kitchen and island table, surrounded by bar stools. There seemed to be six in total, but there might have been one more pushed in somewhere out of sight.

There were several closed doors, each decorated uniquely with photos, colors and large letters: Scar guessed they were the names of who the dorm room belonged to. Tango, a bright orange door decorated with fire motifs, Impulse, a black door with a large I as the decoration, Skizz, nearly identical to Impulse’s door except for an S in replacement of the large I, and lastly was Mumbo’s door, black wood decorated tastefully with a bright accenting red. It stood out, by far.

Scar had been in Tango’s dorm once, but he had been considerably drunk, and barely remembered a thing. What he could recall, however, is that Jimmy had been losing his mind that entire night about being in Tango’s room, practically burning up whenever the redstoner so much as spares him a glance. If Scar wasn’t mistaken, he found the two making out not an hour later. Although that may have been to spite Scott, who had been invited to the same party as them the week prior and had been asking around about Jimmy. Or maybe it was the time he spent over at Grian’s? It was fuzzy…

Mumbo’s door was open, which Scar assumed it was where Mumbo had run off to. The room inside, although far and a bit fuzzy due to Scar’s diminished eyesight, looked clean, calm. If he wasn’t in a constant amount of pain, he would have loved to see what was in there up close. If he wished on his lucky stars, he might just.

Mumbo returned, a tool bag in hand and a hurry in his step. “Sorry…I didn’t mean to leave you by yourself for so long.” He apologized, sitting onto the coffee table across from Scar.

“No problem, really. I’ve got Jellie, after all!” Scar beamed, petting the cat that now clung to his side. Maybe it was that she was sorry for causing him harm or worry? Either way, Scar would forgive her without a second thought. “She’s good company, except when she makes a daring escape…although that might have been my fault. I promised to take her out today for a walk, but I got so busy. Poor girl.” Scar mused, scratching behind one of her ears. Her head tilted in content.

Mumbo hummed in response, eyes drawing over Scar slowly. If you caught him at the right time, you could say he had hearts in his eyes.

He took a moment, before grounding himself with the realization of Scar’s discomfort, or rather pain. Setting his tool bag onto the floor, he began to pull out various metal wrenches and the like.

“What kind of brace are these?” Mumbo asked, shifting through his bag and simultaneously gauging the bolt sizes on the sides of Scar’s braces.

Scar thinks for a moment, trying his best to remember just what his doctor called them. “They’re uh—full range 300 something steel. I think.”

“304? Cause that’s the most typical grade, and, well, I'm guessing it's stainless steel..” Mumbo began talking about words Scar had little use in understanding. All he knew was that a pretty man was interested in him. Well, interested in his safety. But to Scar, that was the same thing.

Scar babbled on a little longer about Jellie, to which Mumbo listened contently, even offering a thought or two before he had all he needed to fix the brace.

Mumbo sat up straight, hand outstretched to grasp Scar’s leg, but he retracted it momentarily. “Uh..Can I?” He asked instead, gesturing to Scar’s leg.

Scar nodded, lifting his leg. Mumbo takes it, resting it on his lap and inspected the brace with deft eyes, noting every dent, every scratch, every sticker Grian put on them to make them “more Scar”. He could see how much Scar depended on them just by the amount of usage and memories engraved into the metal.

Scar would be lying if he said he didn't melt into Mumbo’s soft, attentive touch. Mumbo’s hands, although bigger than his own, were surprisingly gentle, lingering on his skin as he observed the broken brace.

“What’s all the stickers from?” Mumbo spoke up, slightly quieter due to closer proximity.

“Oh—” Scar looked up from the spot he had been unintentionally staring at, looking at the bridge of Mumbo’s nose, rather than actually having eye contact. “Those. Yeah. Those are from my, uh, my friend. He put them on my braces so they were more personal looking, or something like that..”

Mumbo listens, nodding and picking up a smaller wrench, fitting it around a bolt by Scar’s knee. Carefully, he began to loosen the screw and bolt, cautiously avoiding bumping his legs even the smallest amount.

Jellie leaned down to inspect what Mumbo was doing, even going as far as to sniff Scar’s knee, maybe it had just been out of concern. Scar almost shivered as Mumbo’s hand ghosts over his shin as he fully unscrews the bolt and screw.

If he doesn’t stop running his hand over my leg like that, I’m gonna end up kicking him by accident, Scar thought, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from moving even a little.

Soon, Mumbo had fully replaced the screw and bolt, and made sure it was functioning properly once again, then pulling away to clean up his mess of tools. Scar hid his disappointment in the loss of contact, missing the warmth that radiated from Mumbo’s oddly soft palms.

For a guy who tinkers everyday, Scar thought, his hands are surprisingly soft.

“How’s it feel?” Mumbo asked, looking up from moving a hammer to stuff a wrench back into the bag. “Did I fix it? If not that's ok, just tell me I can—”

“It’s perfect.” Scar cut him off, grabbing onto one of Mumbo’s hands. “Thank you, really. It means a lot to me.”

Mumbo flushed, looking away. “God—good. I mean good.” He stuttered, looking down to his hand that was covered by Scar’s, who squeezed his hand just a tad in reassurance.

“Really. I mean, if it weren’t for you, I think Jellie here would’ve ran off for real. You’re a hero, Mumbo!” Scar praised him, chuckling as the red dusted across Mumbo’s cheeks darkened, like the redstone he loved so much.

Jellie jumped from Scar’s lap into Mumbo’s, leaning against him. “I think she’s saying a “thank you.” She must really like you.” Scar pointed out, almost joking in tone, but honest in truth. Me too.

“You think so?” Mumbo asked, looking down at the cat in his lap. She lifts her head, nose tapping against his. Mumbo smiles and Scar’s heart swells at the image.

“I know so.”

They subconsciously leaned into one another, giving Jellie pets and talking every once in a while. At some point, Mumbo moved to sit next to Scar, whose head fell onto his shoulder. They stay like this for a while, which both Scar and Jellie were grateful for.

“I almost kicked you on accident earlier,” Scar admitted. “When you were trying to unscrew the thingy.” He points to the bolt on his knee.

“Oh?” Mumbo chuckled. “As in a bad way, or in a “that tickles i'm gonna kick out of reflex” way?”

“Reflex.”

“Huh.”

“I wouldn’t actually want to kick you, y’know.”

“I hope not—”

Jellie makes a small noise of agitation, upset she wasn’t being given attention. Mumbo starts to scratch behind her ear and she falls silent again.

“Why in the world would I want to kick a pretty guy?” Scar asked, brows furrowed, but smiling nonetheless.

Mumbo didn’t say anything for a while, which worried Scar. He lifted his head, looking up at Mumbo. “Sorry, was that weird?”

“No—no. It's just…” Mumbo looked down into his lap at Jellie rather than Scar, “You think I'm pretty?”

“Well of course I do!” Scar perked up, “I think you’re downright gorgeous, Mumbo.”

The way Scar stated it, no hesitation in sight, made Mumbo’s heart flutter.

“Thank you..” He mumbled, finally looking Scar in the eye.

Neither of them were sure who leaned in first, but as they got closer, lips mere centimeters apart, Jellie sat up. She meowed impatiently, nosing Scar’s hand.

Darn it, Jellie.

[tirasamu]

Whomst from KNY made it to the list?

im so full of love for this show flamey :( i ran to shonen jump immediately and read the manga too !!!! under the cut bc manga spoilers !!

MY NO. 1 IS GIYUU 🤍🤍 my darling boy i knew he’d be the one as soon as i saw him and the further along i got the more i adored him, i just want to cradle him in my hands so gently. ive needed to love on him ever since the “im…not disliked by people” scene but then the story behind his haori just solidified it T^T his heart is SO big i want to spoil him w kisses. THESE PANELS my god !!!! im so happy he got at least somewhat of a happy ending :( he deserves the entire world and more

mitsuri !! i love when they let badass girls still be ultra girly !! the way she moved like a magical girl during fights !! besides her being the biggest cutie pie ever her and obanai absolutely destroyed me :< i wasnt ready to see them both die in each other’s arms like that. ive always been so weak for the ‘in another life’ trope but ive never thought of it in this kind of way where ur both dying and promising u’ll be together if ur given another chance. i feel like after everything else that panel was the one that finally broke my heart into a million pieces

douma because of course that little freak is here, i LOVE him !! i just wanted more of him :< i want to sit in his lap and kiss him all over and maybe clean up his eyebrows a little bit….another one in my long list of evil men who i like to imagine would only be soft for me :< i fear i would join his cult if given the opportunity but i like to think he’d say im too pretty to eat 🙂‍↕️ all that being said seeing shinobu get her revenge and kill him was so satisfying, i cant lie i was cheering !! i was giggling that even in purgatory he was still trying to flirt w somebody HFJDDJ he’s such a loser but thats my type !!!

and ofc i saved the best for last….muzan 🙂‍↕️ PHEW. u conditioned me from the start flamey i didnt stand a chance. he had no business being so fine and oh my gosh ?? the scene w daki ?? I HAVENT BEEN ABLE TO STOP THINKING AB IT SINCE I SAW IT he had me blushing into my laptop (づ៸៸៸◟) i wanted to jump thru the screen !! i love how bitchy and grumpy he is always, i want to bother him w affection in the same way i want to bother fyodor hehe >:) also his little runway walk down to ubuyashiki was so funny

but his character was probably the most interesting to me…by the end i felt rlly bad for him, hes tragic in a way i didnt expect him to be (was ab to type ‘ykwim?’ but ofc mrs kibutsuji herself knows !! 🙂‍↕️) i know it could come across like he just wanted to be invincible but the thought of him being so sick as a human, then he becomes a demon and still cant live life normally just tugged at me. and then his last line being ‘dont leave me here’ ughh the desperation !! it hurts my heart T^T

reading / watching this series while grieving made it hit so much harder than i think it would’ve otherwise for me….it meant so much that after every death a past loved one greeted them to bring them to the other side, no matter how many times it happened i just wanted to bawl my eyes out (ㅠ﹏ㅠ) its def something im going to be thinking ab for a long time and going back to over and over again

[bosinclairz]

Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums

pretty please read warnings before going any further

warnings: very graphic depictions of violence, bo is his own warning, the love is not reciprocated, stockholm syndrome, abuse, allusions to past abuse, vomiting, misogynistic language, mentions of past rough sex/oral, dubious consent, non con (just in case), (presumed) blood as lube, rough sex, bo is not nice, blood and guts, fucking in front of a dead body, gutting, reader actively participates in the murders (mostly unwillingly), bloody sex, daddy kink

word count: 2k i think 3k if im feeling generous

tags: @languidcryptid @visceravalentines @blurrymango @possumteeths @sketchy-rosewitch

Two years, six months, and twenty three days. That’s how long you’ve been in Ambrose. The outside world has given up. Your missing posters falling from the light poles, crumpled up and left behind. You were assumed dead. Your case was closed, they didn’t have any hope.

But here you were. You didn’t know how long you’ve been out here, and you didn’t need to know. Each day molded together to form something despicable. Bruises blossomed on your skin, and you can never remember how you got them. Who gave them to you always remained the same;

Beauregard Sinclair.

Had he been fucking you, hitting you, or both, to leave those marks?

You begged for a hickey once, wanting passerby’s to know who you belonged to. Bo indulged you. It didn’t go away for weeks, and it scarred. He bit too hard, maybe on purpose. Maybe he was trying to rip out your throat, but you held onto him as you always did. Your savior.

You like to think he needs you as much as you need him. You’ve told yourself it so much while you were in his basement you believe it as fact. Something to focus on, keep you going. He did, he kept you going, he must love you.

Something like the Big Bad Wolf, he always bared his teeth when killing. The blood splatters against his face, staining the front of his clothes and you’re revolted to feel yourself becoming wet at the sight. He’s conditioned you, you can’t help it. Did little red riding hood always find the wolf so handsome? Maybe she was scared at first because of her feelings. You mustn’t find a beast beautiful.

Like a deer, you find yourself frozen in place as Bo’s hands wrap around a victim’s neck, squeezing the flesh between them. He gasped for air, his feet kicking uselessly, Sinclair had a good grip.

His eyes bulged, popping out of his skull as you hear a sick snap. Bo must’ve broken his neck. Bile rose in your throat as you watch the scene unfold.

The mechanic leaned back, panting heavily. You couldn’t hold it back as he picks up the eyeball, and crushes it in his fist. You throw up onto the pavement, the image replaying along with the sound.

“Like a cherry,” The wolf says, baring his teeth at you in what you assume is a grin.

He moves off the dead body, coming over to you to hold your hair back as you empty your stomach. A sweet gesture, and you almost forget the gore in his palms.

Patting your back as you dry heave, he hums a nursery rhyme you can’t quite remember. Mary had a little lamb, maybe, The words were unclear, but perhaps it was exhaustion setting in.

“Take me home,” you whisper, looking up at Bo.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

——————

You never truly forgot that night. Beauregard’s violence knew no bounds. You often found yourself cleaning up broken mugs, plates, blood, anything he left behind. A violent man, and your scars to prove it.

Tonight was no different.

You hadn’t been paying attention. Your mind started to wander as Bo scarfed down the food you had made. Pot roast. It took several hours, but at least Bo seems to enjoy it.

He must’ve asked you something, or said something to you. He slammed his fist on the table, causing you to jump and look at him.

“‘Fucks s’matter with you? Eat your fuckin’ food,” He snarled.

You open your mouth to respond, and Bo raises an eyebrow in warning. You’re quick to close your lips together, and pick up your fork. It must’ve been a rhetorical question, he didn’t want you to respond. You’re stupid like that, never knowing what he wants.

Your jaw aches as you bring a piece of meat to your lips, biting down softer than usual. His assault on your throat just a few hours earlier still seemed to bother you. It’s hard to eat, but you manage.

You try to hide every wince you make, hoping it’ll go unnoticed by your captor. Either he doesn’t see it, or he chooses not to say anything. You’re grateful no matter what. You didn’t want him to break your jaw.

“Gonna ask me how my day was?”

Your voice is hoarse. You must’ve forgotten to drink water today, or maybe it was Bo’s dick so far down your throat you couldn’t breathe. “How was your day, daddy?”

Bo speaks with his mouth full. It used to annoy you, but he’s worked that out of you. You’re just glad he enjoys the food. “Long. Had lotsa shit in the garage I hadda deal with. Tourists comin’ in soon. Les called ‘bout twenty minutes ago. Two people, he says.”

It’s a bit late for tourists, you think. Maybe they couldn’t wait, really had to hit the road or something. You used to be that person once. Always in a rush. Bo helped you learn to take your time.

“What should I do?” Sometimes Beauregard wants you to play the housewife role, most times. Other times, you’re just a coworker, maybe a sibling if he’s feeling it. He’s got so many storylines just for you, you’ve forgotten your real one.

“Think y’should wear that dress I like. Help ‘em out in the shop ‘til I get there. We’ll kill ‘em together.”

Together sounded so nice when he says it. You remember you love him, looking down at your plate with a smile.

Bo glances up at you, irritated with your silence. “‘Fuck you smilin’ ‘bout?”

“Nothing,” you respond, “I just love you.”

Bo makes a face of disgust, grumbling something you couldn’t quite hear before he stands. “Finish your plate then go to the shop.”

“Yes, daddy.”

——————

The bell rings as the glass door opens. A man and a woman enter, hand in hand. You close your magazine, smiling at the couple.

“Good evening! How can I help you folks?”

The woman comes up to you, letting the man look around the station. “Hi dear. We’re so sorry for comin’ in so late, we’re having a bit of car trouble. Husband says the coolants leaking, needs to get it fixed or something. Truth be told, I don’t know anything about cars.” She laughs softly, and you share it.

“I don’t know much about cars either. My husbands the mechanic, I just tend to the cash register,” you grin, thinking that in a perfect world, it would be just like this. Maybe he’d actually propose.

“Ain’t that sweet? You and your husband run the place together?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s just using the facilities real quick, should be out soon.” He’s worn off on you. You can feel an accent starting to bloom. Ambrose is a strange place.

“Oh, no worries! I’m Janette, and this is my husband Charles,” Janette replies, gesturing to her husband, who gives you a small wave.

She asks for your name, and you stutter.

What was your name?

“Hey, Honey,” Bo says, coming up behind you, placing a hand on your lower back. You forgot that you were wearing the dress he liked.

You knew Janette felt something was off, and you smiled nervously up at Bo.

“This is my husband, Bo,” You say quickly, leaning back against his hand for comfort.

You didn’t know your name, but Bo still calls you his, and that’s all that matters.

“Evenin’, y’all,” Bo shakes Janette’s hand, and then Charles’. “Y’all lookin’ ‘round for anythin’ in particular?”

Charles tells Bo the issue, taking your husband out to his car to show him. Janette and you are left alone. The silence isn’t as nice as it used to be.

“Is everything alright, sweet pea?”

“What do you mean?” You question, fiddling with the end of your dress. She knows. She knows she knows she knows she-

“Are you ok? Do you need help?”

Help? Why would you need help? This is where you belonged. It’d kill Bo more than it’d kill you to leave this place. No. No you don’t need help.

“I’m alright,” You smile, digging your nails into your palms. Something in the back of your mind was screaming at you, telling you to get help. This was your opportunity, why would you pass it up?

A bloody Charles crashes through the front door, and you jolt. “JAN-! Jan he’s-! He’s crazy! We gotta get outta h-“

A shot gun blast, and you duck behind the counter. The kind woman screams in horror, sobs following quickly.

“Charles! No, god-!”

You hear crunching glass, and you assume it’s Bo. And with Jan’s horrified screech, you’re correct.

“Come on out, baby.” His tone is sickly sweet, and you peak your head over the counter. He’s covering her mouth with one hand, the other keeping her hands behind her back.

You wished she wouldn’t look at you like that.

“You wanna finish her off?”

She was so nice to you. You don’t want to kill her. You’re so scared, you can’t stop yourself from shaking.

“I wanna go home, daddy.”

His face twitches, “Kill her first, then we can go home.”

“Promise?”

Bo’s getting angry, you can tell. Maybe you shouldn’t have talked so much. You’d pay for that later. He takes a deep breath, “I promise, baby. Come over here.”

You stand, slowly making your way to them. Stop looking at me like that-. Stopping once you’re just a few inches in front of the pair, you look down to Bo.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Take that shard of glass right there,” Bo nods his head to it. It’s a big piece, and you can see where this is going. “Cut the cunt open.”

The woman thrashes, screaming into Bo’s palm as you reach for the glass. He manages to keep her in place, shushing her. It feels heavy in your hand, or maybe that’s the nausea coming in. This was always the hardest part.

You crouch down, pushing the sharp edge against her stomach. You’re so fucking terrified, maybe more than her. Bo’s saying something, you realize. He’s encouraging you.

“Cmon baby, cmon. Fuckin’ gut the bitch, baby.”

You pull your hand back and bring it down hard, stabbing Janette in the stomach. Bo’s laughing as blood starts to cover your hand. You twist, and she chokes. Pulling the knife to the side, you start to cut her open, a flash of a smile appearing on your face. All for him.

Her small intestine slips out, and you gag, pulling your hand back and turning your head to the side. The wet squelch of it hitting the floor was enough to make you gag again, vomit rising into your mouth.

It’s quiet. She’s on the ground now, her back soaking up the blood that poured. Bo’s looking at you, a twisted smile on his face as you start to sob.

“Can we go home now?”

“Aw, baby,” he raises a hand, and you flinch on reflex as he starts to pet your hair. “You can’t quit half way. I said gut her.”

You sniffle, looking at him in confusion. How the fuck were you supposed to gut her? You didn’t even know how. His face changes, he’s mad again. You didn’t even say anything this time.

He pulls his hand back, and slaps you hard. “You need me to show you how t’fuckin’ do it? Gotta do everythin’ my fuckin’ self. Goddamn useless is what you are, girl. You’re almost fuckin’ done, just take out her insides, you dumb bitch. Like this.” Bo takes your hands, and shoves them inside the woman’s stomach.

It’s wet and slimy, and you puke, choking on tears as he uses your hands to scoop out the viscera. You can’t breathe, between sobbing and vomiting. There’s blood everywhere, all over your hands and that dress Bo likes. Why does he like this dress again?

Your brain is swimming, you can’t think. You start to lean into Bo, who takes it differently than you about to pass out. You can feel the intestines moving beneath your fingers, and you dry heave. They still squirm, you remember, they’re like worms.

Black starts to fill your eyes before a harsh slap brings you back.

“I’m tired, daddy.”

“That’s shock talkin’. Keep them eyes open, girl.” Bo’s bloody hand squeezes yours, and you can’t tell what’s warmer, the body, or his hand. Both, maybe. Your hands are still inside her.

She’s empty now, you think. You don’t feel anything else, you can’t even feel your hands, can’t feel his. You push yourself away from the body, all the way back to the counter, a blood trail following you. Are you bleeding?

He’s put the large intestine on your dress, that’s where the bloods coming from. Your shaking hands throw it off you, wincing at the wet noise of it hitting the ground as Bo laughs.

“What? Don’t like my gift?”

You look at him, fear in your eyes again. Head to toe, he’s covered in blood. Looks like he played in blood rain. Looks like a wolf, standing over a sheep.

“I wanna g-go home. I do-on’t feel good,” you stutter out, hugging your knees to your chest. Bo hums, tilting his head at you. He smiles the wrong way, it’s upside down. That’s not right. His face is backwards, sideways. He’s above you, and you can’t see.

Another slap. You’re so damn tired, can’t he see that? You just want to sleep. You did what he asked, why can’t he let you sleep?

Easy access. That’s why Bo likes this dress. Easy access.

His rough hands pulled your dress up, revealing blood soaked panties. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t talk. Couldn’t tell him no. You were too tired for this, couldn’t he wait?

The answer is him pulling down your underwear. No, he couldn’t wait. You’re wet, but you think that’s just the blood.

It’s not, or maybe it is, with how easily two of his fingers slip inside you, curling to find that spot you know only he can hit. You hope it’s not blood.

You whimper, your hand coming up to grip his wrist. Did you want more, or did you want him to stop? Either way, it doesn’t matter. It never does, this is always for him.

“Y’feelin’ better now, huh, baby?”

“Daddy…” You whine, rolling your hips into his hand as he adds another finger. His lips ghost your neck, “Yeah…, that’s right, princess. Daddy’s here, Daddy’s gotcha.”

You were close, and you knew he felt it too. Bo knows all your tells by now. He’d never give you something without you begging for it first, so it’s no shock he removes his fingers from you, but you whine anyway.

You hear him unzip his blood-soaked jeans, pulling them down enough to free his cock. He’s hard, he’s always hard. You’re wearing the dress he likes, covered in blood. You’re not all there in the current moment, and he loves it.

He slides his dick through your folds, lubing himself before pushing into you without warning. The stretch hurts, it always does. You’re so fucking tired, but the pain keeps you from falling asleep.

You’re on the edge of sleep, so close to falling, but he keeps tugging you back with each thrust.

He kisses you, and you taste iron. Your blood, or his? The kiss is bruising, and you struggle to kiss back. Always taking, and you’re always giving. Perfect for each other, made for each other.

“I love you,” he lies. It sounds so real, you believe it. You know he loves you, you’ve always known. Tears prick your eyes, and your lips twist up in a smile.

“I love you too,” you moan, gripping the fabric of his shirt. He thinks you’re a liar, but you’re squeezing him so tight. You’ve always been confusing like that, lying to him so pretty as you clench around him. Some goddamn slut you are.

His pace picks up, your head knocking against the counter. Bo doesn’t care, he’ll hurt you worse than anything else can. No one and nothing hurts like he can.

“You gonna cum?”

You nod, whimpering. It’s too much, it always has been. Maybe it’s shock, but you feel too much of everything right now. You can’t handle it, but Bo’s always there. He’ll help.

“Go on, girl. You deserve it. You’ve done so good,” the praise is sick, and he doesn’t stop as you cum, your back arching off the bloody ground.

Bo’s close behind, fucking into you harder, throwing you harshly into overstimulation. It hurts, he’s getting deeper and now you’re sure the blood is yours. He cums with a strangled groan, his head falling forward into the crook of your neck. He nips at the flesh there, no softness without a twinge of pain.

“I love you,” you repeat, submitting yourself to exhaustion.

His faces twitches again, “I love you too, girl.”

[lillyontheborder]

Weekly Prompt 6 - Life flashes before your eyes

Last game, finally you have done it. through fire and dust you came out victorious on the other side but now you stand before a choice — join those who tormented you or leave these lands forever. tell us, what is your last thought before you die and join the citizens OR the first thought that crosses your mind when you wake up in the hospital?

// I decided to take this piece in a different route, and did a conversation about the choice of death or life in the borderlands, similar to Usagi and Arisu in season 2. I hope thats okay.

// Don’t ask why it’s during the fireworks I just thought that’d be pretty

// SERIOUS WARNING: This prompt has some topics that could be considered triggering or too much for some readers. Read at your own risk.

Before the borderlands came to an end, Lilly had a conversation with Chishiya. One she wouldn't forget.

"I... don't know if I want to go back." She whispered in tears. Chishiya stared and listened, with little to no reaction on his face, per usual.

"Why?"

She looked up. "What?"

"Why?" He asked in a monotone voice. They stared at each other for a few seconds. The wind whispered in her ears as she stared at dark colored irises. She felt as though he stared through her soul. As if he knew why, and just wanted to ask her to find her vulnerability.

"Chishiya... I... I hated myself. In the real world." She bit her lip so hard she almost drew blood. "At least in this world I had some people who understood. Who... who helped me. Or..." She paused and took a deep breath. "...Maybe it's just that I actually listened this time." Lilly couldn't hear anything from the man in front of her. Not even a shift in movement or a sigh. "Going home... what would happen? What would I gain from it? What if I don't see you all again? I didn't have anything I looked forward to. I stayed in bed for hours just... just hating myself. Dying in the games... might have been good for me." She whispered the last sentence. The wind was so strong it probably took the sentence away with it. He mustn't have heard her.

She barely managed to look up at the guy who was now a few feet closer. She jumped back slightly, startled.

"If you stay here will that change?" He said, his hands in his pockets as usual. He stared at her with intense eyes. She couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"I-"

"If all the people here who seemingly cared about you leave and go home, what will happen to you?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. She stared in silence. His hair blew gently in the wind and his face remained the same.

"I guess nothi-"

"So what's the benefit of staying here? Being on the verge of death? Watching others die. Constantly. Wouldn't that make your condition worse?"

"I thought you didn't care about that stuff."

"I did what I needed to, to survive. To get back home." He paused and looked away before looking back. "The only thing that would change about going back home is that it's easier to survive."

She stared at the ground in silence. Why was he right? She didn't like it.

"If you really wanted to die in the games, you would have done it by now. So why are you still alive?"

"Chishiya." She said in a scolding manner. "I cant have this conversation anymore." She said in tears. She began to storm off when something he said stopped her.

"Something is keeping you alive."

Silence.

"You never died in the games because something in you didn't want to." He said it in such a serious tone she felt like he he didn't mean what he said. But this was Chishiya.

"You're too scared to die."

"Why are you telling me this!? WHY CAN'T YOU LET ME BE UPSET!?" Lilly screamed at the top of her lungs. She stared at him, tears streaming down her face like a hot waterfall. Her hands were clenched so tight they were hurting. The lump in her throat was so big she could barely muster up a sentence. He walked up to her.

"Lilly." He stated quietly. "You are always going to hate yourself." She turned to leave. "Im not done." He said. "It doesn't matter where you are. Staying here means giving up." He paused. "I knew a guy." Lilly could hear Chishiya laugh bitterly.

"A guy who was stupid. But... I think he helped me understand something." He said quietly. "I'm tired, you know. Of doing anything I can to survive. He almost let himself get killed. For someone else. Stupid."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"You're tired." He said. "Of constantly fighting. You won't survive any longer in these games."

"I-"

"I'm the med student here. I think you should listen to me." He said. She could hear the smirk in his voice. The amusement. "You need rest. I mean... after all this."

"All I do is rest. All I do is sleep." She barely managed to speak.

"Is that what you've been doing?" He asked rhetorically. "These past few months? Sleeping? Hmm. Interesting."

Lilly felt herself sit down on the ground. A high pitched ringing bothered her ears. All sounds went muffled. All vision was blurry. No words could be said. She was like a toy shoved back in a box. Claustrophobic. No light. No sound. He was right.

"Hnng... ugh..." Lilly sniffled and mumbled before bursting into hysterical tears. She gripped the dirt and grass underneath her hands so hard its like she thought she'd be torn from the ground. She screamed out in pain and sobbed even more. "AHHHHHHHH!" She screamed out, crying louder than she ever has. He body shook and quaked. Tears painted the ground. Muffled footsteps led Chishiya to stand behind Lilly. He stared at her, emotionless.

He let her cry it out.

She would go home. He just had a feeling.

[ivanajpeg]

ODESTA WEEK (DAY 6 SUPERNATURAL)

Where Annie is a mermaid (like in h2o) and Finnick is her loving boyfriend with questions

Note 1: Englis is not my first language, if you see any mistakes please let me know. Im always trying to improve

Hope you enjoy it <3

It was a common day for Annie and Finnick. They lived in district 4 and they had a normal life.

Or that's what I would say if it was true. Annie had a secret, as crazy as it sound, she was a mermaid. You read it right, a mermaid, with scales and everything.

She would live in her human form if she had no contact with water. Living in district was a very hard task.

Finnick always thought Annie was a bit weird, but in the good way. He saw his little quirks as something cute. But recently he's been feeling that Annie wasn't only weird, he felt like she was hiding something.

Annie felt bad for hiding something like this to Finnick, but she was scared that he was going to walk away and dump her because of it. She was more than willing to tell him, she knew how much he loved scuba diving y she would love to share those moments with him.

Today Finnick felt like diving, on this days, Annie would stay on their boathouse reading or knitting while she waited for him.

A couple of hours later Finnick came back, he went straight to the shower. Annie started cooking dinner.

When Finnick came out of the shower she hugged her from behind and kissed her cheek.

"What are you doing, love?"

She turned her head and kissed his cheek back

"Pasta, I know you're gonna like it"

"I like everything you do"

Annie finished cooking and Finnick served the plates. Annie decided that it was time to be honest with him. But before she could speak, he said something.

"Ann, I want to talk to you and please I want you to be honest with me"

Annie got nervous, she was scared of what he could saw

"Okay, I would never lie to you" Annie was saying the truth, kind of.

Annie never lied about her condition, she just never told him. Thats not lying, was it?

"Annie, what's happening?"

"What do you mean?"

Finnick sigh and took her hands in his.

"Ann, you know you can always trust me, right? I love you so much an I always will. But lately I've been feeling like you're hiding something from me, and I would like to know the truth"

Annie squeezed his hands, it was time to be completely honest with him.

"Finn... actually I have something I would like to tell you, I've been hiding it for a long time. I didn't told you not because I didn't trusted you but I did'nt wanted you to walk away"

"Love, what's wrong?"

"I have to show you... if i just say it you'll think I'm crazy"

Finnick was surprised, but he followed her.

They walked to the boat dock and they stood on the edge. Annie got close to Finnick before jumping to kiss him sweetly.

Annie jumped to the sea. Finnick got scared at first, Annie would always avoid situations that involved water so he assumed she just didn't know how to swim.

A couple seconds later a orange tail was visible and Annie came out to the surface, showing what he really was.

Annie was nervous, she did'nt knew what reaction would Finnick have.

Finnick froze for a second, processing the information. Annie, his Annie, was a mermaid. Mermaid were real and Annie was one of them.

A seconds later, Finnick took off his shirt and jumped in with her, both of the swimming under the moonlight. Finnick swam to her, he held her face between his hands and caressed her cheeks.

"Annie, you are..."

Annie nodded

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was afraid you might see me as a monster"

"Ann... I would never. I love you for everything you are and you have, I don't care what magical creature you are as long as you are by my side. I love you and I will always love you"

Annie was happy and grateful. She couldn't help herself and she kissed him with passion, they really loved each other.

Finally there were no secrets between them, finally everything was pure and beautiful like the sea and all the creatures that live in it, like Annie and her people, mermaids and mermans

[bronwiebear-brad]

I was in the mood so I knew I had to write something inspired on would you

“Good luck, B” you said hugging him, your arms wrapping his figure like you did everytime.

“Thank you” he kissed the top of your head.

When you looked up he leanned down to kiss you. When you pulled apart he noticed how you left your eyes open during the kiss. And that hurt him.

“Do you still love me?” He asked out of nowhere on a saturday night just as he was about to leave the backstage room for a concert.

“What do you mean?” You asked confused. You were pretty sure he knew how much you loved him because you were always showing him.

“It is a simply yes or no question, Y/N”

“ Yeah I know, but I don’t uderstand why are you asking me that”

“Your answer explains everything” he looked down sarcastically smiling.

“That question came out of nowhere, Brad. Why are you doing this right now?”

“Because i need to know” he looked at you. His eyes were dark. He had a serious expression.

“Wh-“ you wanted to know more about where this conversarion led but someone interrupted.

“Guys, 10 seconds to come up on stage”

“We’ll talk later. Or not. I don’t know anymore.”he turned around and left you.

This was probably the worst thing he could do to you. Leaving you at least 4 hours overthinking about you and your relation. He know how anxious you would get but at this point he couldnt care less.

Everyone went up on the stage and you stood there in the dressing room with the famillies. James stood behind resting, because his voice condition, he noticed the interaction between you and his bandmate. You looked at him and he gave you a pitty look, he was trying so hard to not say anything.

Instead you gave him a reasuring smile and he gentle caressed your back.

…

Every song he sang that night made him think of you and every time he closed his eyes your eyes were looking straight into his. It was consuming him.

“Thank you Birminghan, that was a crazy show” you heard him say and the venue went crazy.

He looked at them and saw happiness. He remembered when he felt that way.

It was a long time.

He started to notice when you stopped waiting for him on the driveway when he came from work. You used to jump on his arms and hug him tight.

But not anymore.

There were a few times when you refused to go with him to red carpet events, dinner parties amd eventually casual dates.

You stopped waiting for him at the airport arrivals gate when he was away touring.

But when you stopped kissing him goodnight before bed thats when he noticed it.

He had lost you.

The whole ride from the venue to the hotel was silent. The tension between you and him could be cut with a knife. You were pretty sure the uber driver was looking at you through the mirror and wondering why you two didn’t talk.

“When did you stop loving me?” He asked closing the bedroom door.

“Brad we don’t have to do this right now, you need to rest” you said grabbing your things all over the room.

“See? You don’t even deny it!” He sat on the bed defeated.

“I do love you” you stopped what you were doing and looked at him.

“Fuck, I know that I’m never going to stop loving you.” You said.

For a split second his eyes filled with hope.

“So don’t “ he desperately said.

“But I can’t love you the same” you continue and his heart dropped. You sat beside him on the bed. Your knees touching.

“Brad, im tired to be always waiting. I cant live my life feeling that im always waiting for something. I can count on my fingers the amount of times I woke up in the morning and you were there smiling at me and ready to holding me tight…”

“I try to be present…”

“I know babe, it’s not your fault. You can’t compromise your job. Its what you do and you’re pretty fucking good at it.” You tried to make him smile and bumped his shoulder playfully. He lose a little but not enought.

“But I deserve to be happy too. Not spend my life waiting for you. Counting the days I’ll get to see you.”

“We’re going to find a way. I know we will. Just please don’t leave me” he said looking at you and grabbing your hands gently. His eyes were looking straight into yours.

“We tried already, darling” you said. Your hand caressed his face and he closed his eyes feling your touch.

“I can’t be that jealous with myself. And I know you’ll understand” you continued.

“i know that you’ll let go because you really love me” your hand traveled down and touched his chest right were his heart was.

“I can’t let you go, i love you” he said. You noticed his eyes filling with water. And you were breaking too.

“My darling i am nothing without you”

“Brad, you’re incredible without me. You just need to wait to see.”

He was listening you quietly. Few Tears were silently falling of his eyes and you cleaned them with your hands.

“You’ll became this better version of yourself. You’ll see how strong you are.” At this point you were sobbing too.

“And you’ll find someone like you.” He nodded no.

“She will be amazing and she’ll love you a lot, because its impossible not to”

“You’ll find someone like you”