#why did i go and make myself sadder

[zhuoyichenpretty]

Ep 22-23 Commentary

Ha...I was inexplicably nervous for eps 22-23 and it looks like I was right to be (-: What a rollercoaster. Spoilers below!

I've just come out of ep 23 and uh????? holy shit????? ZYC????

Ok ok but to backtrack, let's do my comments semi-chronologically:

Ep 22:

A carry-over from ep 21 that I have to mention—heck yeah PSJ give WZY hell. She doesn't have all that many lines but she sure knows how to make them count. Also seeing PSJ and WX get screen time just the two of them makes my brain go "yay <3"

Back to ep 22, loved the fake-out sundial ayeee that was a nice Chekhov's gun that also brings the real sundial back into relevance for later. Also me eating up the PSJ and ZYC crumb of an interaction has brought to my attention how starved I am of their screen time together.

This whole ep was a great lament towards the feared inevitable. Every sad downcast look from ZYC, every complicated glance WX gives him. A wonderful, terrible crossroads for these characters. I love that for ZYC especially, it's such an incredible mess of emotion coming to a head. Bad enough that he's come to care about the demon who killed his family and ruined his life, bad enough that he's sworn a blood oath he regrets and tied himself to punishing someone he no longer finds culpable, bad enough that ZYZ's life or death depends solely on his choice and ZYZ is constantly practically begging for death when ZYC wants him to live. How much immensely worse it makes the whole situation that WX is literally ZYZ's soulmate. And obviously the whole team has only grown more and more attached to ZYZ, too. ZYC's personal turmoil aside, how heavy must that responsibility and guilt be? For the finishing blow that only he can deliver to also deeply threaten every other person he cares about? Everyone understands in the abstract what must happen and why, but just like seeing ZYZ lose control firsthand, the gulf between understanding and experiencing is so unimaginably wide. If he kills ZYZ, can there really be no resentment from his friends? From WX?

Also it seems ZYC only wears cloaks so that he can give them to other people lmao

Ah fuck, the farewell drinks. I didn't even factor in how ZYC might not survive the encounter (''': The drama truly was like hm can we possibly give ZYC a worse day than that night his whole fam died? Maybe give him a bunch of new family members and also the blade and the fate and the sole responsibility to potentially irrevocably scar said family members with? And he might die in the process too? (-: haha maybe? (((-:

Oh. Oh. Addendum. I forgot this til I saw it mentioned in another post—ZYC recounting his oath as he watched WX smile when they discussed reviving the tree...I could feel him weighing those words against his own life, against ZYZ's life, against WX's happiness. One way out of this impossible situation is indeed to doom himself. I'm in pieces.

Damn if WX isn't dedicated heart and soul, going into the sundial like that. I'm sad no one could keep her company for those 300 years but also I guess that's kind of an impossible ask (and maybe not survivable for the other non-goddess mortals? I'm admittedly very unclear on sundial time loophole logistics). It would have been nice to see someone offer though, even just to be turned down.

Ooh I like the soul needle fake-out, given this show's penchant for retroactive "actually we had a plan all along" moments. A good subversion of the narrative's own style.

Also I saved this for the end because it doesn't really fit the linearity of my comments but what the fuuuuuuuck oh my god I absolutely flipped out at this scene:

I am at once rabidly intrigued and at the same time not sure if I'll be satisfied with whatever payoff will come for this so I don't want to overindulge in theorizing and setting my own expectations too high. Maybe this is just a fevered hallucination, maybe it means nothing (I hope it means something). But damn!!! What a gorgeous man crazy scene.

In conclusion, ep 22 had some good stuff for me. Plot development and reflection and tension enough that I may have been satisfied with just that one episode. But they gave us two, so onward to ep 23 comments!

Ep 23:

I like how many solid reasons the team has to suspect ZYC being possessed. Even though I withheld judgment during my watch given how quickly the show usually confirms that kind of stuff with a possession mark, just simply casting that doubt made the whole build up that much more intense.

ZYC slowly walking down the corridor with the whole grounds lit a somber and haunting gold—*chef's kiss*

ZYC's monologue to a catatonic ZYZ is so important to me. The closest we'll get to his internal monologue about this whole situation. The kinds of things said when we think there's no conscious listener.

Okay so, having finished this episode and looking back, Li Lun's hands coming up from behind ZYC was not to denote possession (at least in this episode), potentially is a visual from ZYZ's POV, and seems related to the above screencap. I am so, so curious. Once again, I'm stopping myself from further speculation because I want to be surprised but ahhhhhhhhh

PSJ shooting at Ao Yin is so gorgeous. Her action scenes seriously never disappoint—the creativity of her fight choreos!! Also very cool that the whole team is getting to take part in the action, not just the two male leads.

Bai Jiu possession was not on my bingo card but I sure do love that we literally saw the possession take place and I still didn't connect the dots. Good shitttt. Also oh no ): ZYC was telling the truth about the soul needle, he was just tricked ):

Seriously from the Ao Yin case to getting PSJ released to reviving the Divine Wood to getting tricked by possessed!Bai Jiu to making pear soup to fighting ZYZ to fighting Li Lun—when will ZYC get a single goddamn vacation day holy shit.

Also when will WX tear up that contract so ZYZ can stop having a mild heart attack every time he wants to kiss her ): &I love that they saved the 300-year montage for this moment. While their ship doesn't give me brainrot personally, who could be unmoved by that incredible and undisclosed sacrifice? That's soulmatism.

Okay, I'd seen clips of them filming the ZYC and Li Lun fight but damn I did not expect it'd be happening right now!! Right after already taking damage from ZYZ? And my god is Li Lun brutal. The two actors did such an impressive job on this entire fight, what with Li Lun's ease and ZYC's suffering. I really appreciated the extensive hand-to-hand combat after Li Lun literally obliterated ZYC's sword. (Also though, given the origin of that sword, I kept hoping for a flashback to ZYC's brother once it broke, but alas, no dice.) Anyway, the show does not play around about ZYC whump it seems. I was very very shook by that throat punch; that shit legitimately looked like it hurt.

Honestly, I had a hard time with the extended ZYZ and Li Lun conversation at the very end because oh my god someone please heal ZYC lmao. But of course, that's the end of the episode~~

Y'all...check on your local ZYC stans because I was not okay after all that (': I need a heaping dose of comfort after all that hurt, but as always I'm cautious of hoping for much from canon itself. So yeah! Ep 23 was solid, but I would probably be in better shape if today's release just ended on ep 22 ((':

Time to go wait for the cast's Hi6 episode to drop so I can heal my battered heart ;-;

[cozylittleartblog]

I LOVE HOE YOU DRAW ROUXLS AND QUEEN SM ITS JUST SO GOOD AHHHHHHH I before didn't entirely ship queen and Rouxls, but now I do. I love how beautiful your art is and if you haven't already you NEED to see L Voids dubs of your comics, they're amazing!

thank you! enjoy the brainrot o7 and i have seen some of his dubs, he does a good job

[sun-kissy]

still here | r.l.

summary: it's your birthday :(

a/n: this is the first time i’ve ever really cried when writing something, it’s got a home in my heart now and i hope you like it!! 🫶 (also listen to our lovely girl billie while reading for added heartbreak)

tw: past suicide attempt

You lean back on the couch from where you’re bending over the table. Remus wastes no time in wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. He gently presses his lips to your forehead. “Happy birthday, lovely girl.”

“Thank you,” you mumble half-heartedly, grateful but too overwhelmed to show it. 

There’s a cut-up chocolate cake in front of you, which Remus had insisted upon baking. He’d honoured your wishes not to throw a big bash, and of not wanting an actual present. He didn’t exactly understand why — but he loved you too much to not do what you wanted him to; birthday or not.

Guilt weighs heavily on your heart; Remus has been kinder than you deserve. You decide to help him understand.

“You know,” you start softly, tilting your head to lay it on his shoulder. He hums in acknowledgement, fingertips grazing your sleeve as he starts to rub your arm. “I didn’t think I would last this long.”

The shakiness in your voice surprises even you. You feel Remus’ hand still on your arm. 

“What?” he murmurs. You can’t decipher if the slight lilt to his voice is because of sadness or confusion.

“I didn’t think I would last this long,” you repeat quietly, just to be safe, and you feel his hand coasting across your back as he gently grabs your shoulders. He turns you towards him, and you don’t wait for him to ask before you start to explain. “When I was 13, I couldn’t imagine ever making it this far. I tried to kill myself.”

Remus’ eyes widen the slightest bit as he takes in your sudden admission. His grip on your shoulders doesn’t falter; and it’s like you both know he’s the only thing holding you upright. 

When he doesn’t respond, your gaze immediately drops to the couch, shame clouding your eyes.

“I… I didn’t know that.”

The crack in his voice makes you look back up, meeting his gaze. His features are softer, sadder; somehow. There’s the slightest bit of grief in the way he’s regarding you. “Are you glad you made it this far?”

You rub your lips together, taking a shaky breath to make sure your voice comes out evenly. “Yeah,” you exhale softly. “Yeah, I am. I got to meet you.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“No,” you reply honestly. “I love my work. My friends, I really like hanging out with them. And I’d say our apartment is pretty sweet.”

The concern in Remus’ expression is still evident, his brows pinched together almost painfully. His hands bunch up the fabric on your shoulders, tugging you towards him. You’re certain the action is subconscious – he looks lost in thought, like he’s deliberating wrapping you up in his arms and never letting you go.

“Would you like more reasons?” you ask quietly, feeling your vision start to blur. You shouldn’t be surprised that he cares this much, but you are.

When he nods, your heart melts – the magma seems to be pooling in your stomach, and you feel the kind of warmth you’ve only ever been able to feel since you met him.

“Okay,” you decide to indulge him. “I like coffee when I wake up, especially when you make it. Feeding the stray dogs on the side of the road every morning. And my guitar, I like to make music on it. I think music is nice.”

You feel your throat start to clog up, the image of Remus distorting into a blurry swirl in your eyes. “It’s lovely when it rains, especially when we’re both at home, cuddling. And –”

Your voice comes out wobbly, the tears coming hard and fast now. You want to stop, but push on for his sake.

“And I really like our apartment. Did I mention that? Also, your hugs – I love the way you hug. It’s like you really love me, and —”

“I do love you,” Remus interrupts in a shaky exhale, words barely audible from the way his voice is trembling. “I love you, okay? I love you a whole lot. And I’m so glad you’re still with me.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, gently pulling you even closer towards him. You meet him in the middle, arms instinctively wrapping around his waist as he brings his hands up to encircle your shoulders.

Remus squeezes you like it’s his job to hold you together, and you hear a soft sniffle as he buries his face in your hair. 

“I’m so glad you’re still here,” he says again. Your heart clenches in your chest, in all the best ways.

“I love you,” you respond, because you both know it’s synonymous with Thank you for giving me a reason to be here.

[savagewildnerness]

Let’s breakdown this scene…

Lestat, playing piano: bent over, lost in the world of the music - out of this world entirely. Louis sees a broken thing playing a plank of wood. A far cry from the proud, splendid creature he once knew.

(From Interview with the Vampire) "My eyes widened as I studied this stooped and shivering vampire whose rich blonde hair hung down in loose waves covering his face.”

Side note from me, as I love to talk about things that make The Vampire Chronicles appealing to me. Some people seem to be of the view that they wouldn’t desire immortality, only to be these sad, lonely, melancholic creatures… but I have always felt this way myself - even when I was a tiny child, long before I read The Vampire Chronicles. There has always been an innate loneliness and isolation to me deep inside. I don’t think you’d necessarily know it to meet me, mind! I am a smiley person! I like to do childlike, fun things. I try to bring happiness, not gloom to the world.

However, my instinct has always been to retreat into my own, wordless, unbound imagination, and to feel entirely alone, in truth. And still, I am. As a child, I felt more the weight of the world as if I were already 1000 years old. Now, loss of hope that comes with time is both sadder, scarier and, in its way, more freeing.

Anyway - imagine having infinite time and so being able to truly drift out of existence for decades. It’s such an appealing concept to me. I know Lestat is very sad here, but the idea of this kind of true escape… oh how I yearn for it. To let the world crumble around me. To step out of existence for some decades, with the possibility of return, not the reality as it is in mortal life that that is you falling through cracks you’ll never crawl out of ever again…

Lestat names Louis, reflexively when asked who said “hello”. He hasn’t turned to see Louis yet. To Lestat, Louis died 50 years ago. He is a ghost, surely? Lestat’s voice has a flat affect here. He isn’t thinking. He is merely reacting.

When Lestat first looks at Louis, I see fear:

- Does Louis really exist?

- What will Louis do?

- Must Lestat be drawn back into the world here? To acknowledge reality?

(From IWTV) “`I've dreamed of your coming . . . coming. . ' he said.”

Lestat asks Louis if he’d like a rat, as if he were a hallucination still, more than real-Louis. I think Lestat knows Louis is real when he speaks, but he’s still only half in reality himself.

Louis says “I’ve come to see you”, but Lestat is still half in his own constructed world with his music and Argerich… I love how Lestat hugs and caresses his plank-piano, drawing it into himself, as if drawing music in to himself. Me too, Lestat. Me too. I adore how Rolin and all added music to this scene. It isn’t there in the books. Of course it makes a through-line for rock star Lestat, but it is a deep love of Lestat’s and I am SO HAPPY with this addition!

I know a lot of people find “Siri, pause…” funny, but I must be a weird human, as I just find it oddly poignant. Like did people watch and laugh at this moment? This feels like when I go to see a play and people all laugh at something and I don’t laugh, then some other thing I laugh out loud at, but nobody else is laughing. And this is why I can’t do memes or any popular thing. SIGH. ANYWAY!!!

The way Lestat puts the keyboard up on front of himself, like a shield as Louis moves closer, his breathing growing ragged. Lestat genuinely scared… as though Louis’ mere presence might obliterate him if he gets too close. And of course, he does not know why Louis is there. Is he there to kill him? Does it matter if he is? He should kill him. He could too, right now. The emotional support piano becomes a protective plank.

But what Lestat is not expecting is Louis’ kindness, care, worry and empathy.

“Did you save my life in Paris?”

And now we get the first glimmer of the old Lestat as Lestat lifts his chin, shakes his head, tries to be nonchalant and to muster up his old pride, maintain any pride he still possesses. He immediately dismisses Louis’ niceness with a self-criticism as he truly perceives that he put Louis in danger by not protecting him from Armand. Responsibility in Nicolas’ death, and, he thinks, in Louis’.

Lestat is defensive. His unspoken mantra, “Don’t see me. Don’t see the real me, Louis. I cannot take it. Not right now.” Lestat is almost begging Louis to tell him he hates him, as he’s imagined Louis’ hate all these years… I fear halluci-Louis may not have been the kind, loving vision for Lestat that DreamStat was for Louis…?

A side note again: Lestat’s “All hail me” gave me a full-on spontaneous existential crisis. Folks, does Lestat say “All hail me” in the books? I hope not! Because for as long as I remember, in appropriate circumstances, I say “All hail me” and obviously it’s a turn of phrase, but I had a sudden heart stopping moment where, with a chill, I thought *Did I get that from Lestat?!* Am I entirely even my self at all?! Am I merely a manifestation of all the art I have ever consumed? Am… I… Armand!?!?!??!! Oh MY! I don’t think Lestat says this in the books though, right? Right!?!?

Well, Lestat puts his piano-plank down, terrified Louis might show him love. Craving it. Fearing it.

“Been enduring here?” Lestat is truly proud now. He will not admit his pain. As if not speaking it could make it invisible when it’s plain all about - from within him and without. It is *very* Lestat when questioned on the pain in his soul or shown that it has been seen to be like “I am FINE” & to think that’s how he comes across to others, when really of COURSE they see how broken he is. And then he bemoans that nobody will let him be broken, when he himself struggles to be broken other than when alone or on the page.

“I didn’t know it was a gift.” - Lestat is still wary. Still expecting hate from Louis here… unable yet to fully accept and understand…

Then Louis begins to say the only things Lestat has ever wanted to hear and know from Louis - thanking Lestat for the gift of vampiric immortality, showing he understands the beauty of it and intends to value that and use it… & Lestat is done for; broken open from here. He still, for a moment tries to fight back with “Shall we list all the ways we have wronged each other…” etc. But really, Lestat can now no longer maintain ay facade. Louis has opened him up.

And now we are open to Lestat’s thoughts for the last half-century. Armand erases Louis’ suicide attempt from his mind, but it is the first thing Lestat asks about. In his mind he has replayed for 5 decades how Louis is dead and it is his fault.

Sam and Jacob are so brilliant and beautiful as they open to each other in this scene. Claudia. Grief. Pain. Then, love. Broken-Lestat is particularly too much - holding on to responsibility over Claudia’s fate and how she looked at him at the end and he did nothing… and Louis, trying to take away and share the burden. Louis - so empathetic… and as they move through grief to love, words fall away (or become too personal to matter) and the storm outside echoes the storm of their hearts and their love.

(From IWTV) ““…And as I looked down at him, as I saw his yellow hair pressed against my coat, I had a vision of him from long ago, that tall, stately gentleman in the swirling black cape, with his head thrown back, his rich, flawless voice singing the lilting air of the opera from which we'd only just come, his walking stick tapping the cobblestones in time with the music, his large, sparkling eye catching the young woman who stood by, enrapt, so that a smile spread over his face as the song died on his lips; and for one moment, that one moment when his eye met hers, all evil seemed obliterated in that flush of pleasure, that passion for merely being alive.

" Was this the price of that involvement? A sensibility shocked by change, shrivelling from fear? I thought quietly of all the things I might say to him, how I might remind him that he was immortal, that nothing condemned him to this retreat save himself, and that he was surrounded with the unmistakable signs of inevitable death. But I did not say these things, and I knew that I would not.

" It seemed the silence of the room rushed back around us, like a dark sea…””

Bonus: misprint in my TVL copy!

(From TVL) “Louis had come finally to this very place and seen me through the windows. I tried to imagine it. Louis alive. Louis here, so close, and I had not even know it. I think I laughed a little. I couldn’t keep it clear in my mind that Louis wasn’t burnt up. But it was really wonderful that Louis still lived. It was wonderful that there existed still that handsome face, that poignant expression, that tender and faintly imploring voice. My beautiful Louis surviving, instead of dead and gone with Claudia and Nick.

But then maybe he was dead. Why should I believe Armand?”

[bluelizze]

Me after reading Mizu5 Ch. 7 & 8:

I have so much to say for this event, especially as a fellow trans person myself (I’m specifically agender but it’s under the nonbinary umbrella which is under the trans umbrella)

SPOILERS FOR MIZU5 EVENT

Tw/// one mention about unaliving

So first off, the first time I saw the leaks for Mizu5 event (October 11, 2024) I was scared like “oh no did ena not accept them?”

But then I saw a post about how it’s more likely that Mizuki’s asshole of a classmate might of told Ena their secret

Now, the WORST feeling for anybody, not just LGBTQ+ people to fell, is to work up the courage to tell someone you trust, your secret, a secret that THEY KNOW is very important, only to get outted by someone else

The fear I felt when reading the event and the way my heart clutched was worst than I thought it would it when I finally got to Chapter 7.

The expression, the way Mizuki’s face gone pale. That I can feel. And omg Hinata-san did such an amazing job on the voice acting (she even said something about crying after recording those lines). I felt the fear and tension.

And omg the card. Is so beautiful but it so painful to look at

The way their eyes are covered, and the mirror being broken. They can’t bare to look at themselves.

The way the clothes are torn as if they have been ripped off. I saw a comment where it felt like Mizuki’s mask has been ripped off (not by her own choice) which can explain how their clothes here are ripped off and i can see how it makes perfect sense. They were ripped off, exposed by their classmates. They were ripped off the opportunity, the courage to tell Ena their secret in their own terms

The red I felt like… can resemble blood. Kinda like ripping off a bandaid kind of feeling. Idk why. Maybe it just kinda feels like they’re bleeding from the emotional wounds.

The way my heart clutched seeing this and also how it sent chilled down my spine. I can’t even begin to explain how I felt about this.

Now, I think people will think they will unalive themselves (which is a possibility bc they said at the end “I want to disappear”), but the wording here is “temporarily stop appearing in the ‘real world’”. Meaning: mizuki will probably hang around SEKAI instead of being in the real world. What’s even sadder is that I saw a tweet where it said that Mizuki here is basically going back to their middle school self. Which HURTS

Anyways, that’s my thoughts on the recent Mizu5. As a trans person, I never felt more fear for Mizuki and I truly hope they can be happy again someday…

[blackhairedjjun]

staying afloat - k.th

pairing: kang taehyun x gn reader | genre / tropes: angst, argument -> makeup, implied friends to lovers, office worker!taehyun, the subtlest of love confessions | word count: 899 | warnings: burnout and exhaustion from overwork

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompt - HEAT: while engaged in a passionate argument with one another, sender, in the heat of the moment, blurts out “i love you!” to the receiver. think of like, that glorious trope where people have a huge argument and then suddenly sb drops the mic with “because i’m in love with you!” and silences the other person. u know the trope! (requested by anon)

author's notes: HI ANON im sorry this took sooooo long. as i said, this was hard for me to write bc i already did the heat prompt twice before and i didn't want to be too repetitive with the arguments... the argument here is a bit calmer and more one-sided on yn's part but i hope it still works!

“you are running yourself into the ground, taehyun!” you grab his shoulders and give him a little shake. taehyun watches you closely, and you can see the darkening circles under his eyes. 

he’s still standing before the threshold of your home, right in front of the door. with just one step he could walk in if you weren’t blocking his way. outside, the night air is so cold that you shivered instantly upon opening the door for him. the sky is dark, with neither moon nor stars, and the only light comes from the fluorescent bulb at the doorway.

“y/n, you’re up working too,” he says. his voice is steady but firm. “you can’t tell me what not to do when you’re also working like this.”

“i’m doing overtime for just one night, for god’s sake. but you 一 you’ve been so busy and tired for what, two weeks? you forget to answer my texts. forget!” you throw your hands up. “and you’ve never forgotten before, not in all the years that i’ve known you.”

taehyun stuffs his hands into his pockets and his gaze flickers away from yours for a second before it returns. though he tries to stand his ground, you notice the soft look in his eyes, laying bare the tiredness and worries weighing down on him.

“well, i’m here now. why won’t you let me make it up to you?”

“because it’s one in the morning and you’ve been staying up late for overtime and extra projects for what, two weeks now? you go home late and you wake up early, your boss dumps all this work on you, and you barely get any time off!” you take a step closer, now fully exiting the warmth of your home, to stand so close to him. “please, taehyun. it’s not that i don’t want to see you, but you’re so, so tired. i can see it in your face.”

you reach out to touch his face, but his expression goes taut and your hand hovers just inches away. he turns away from you before you can scan his eyes for the tired look you saw; a cold breeze blows by, causing both of you to shiver and pushing the bangs away from taehyun’s forehead.

he looks... sadder than what you remember. you remember how easily his face would light up before he took on his new position at his job; he would smile at the smallest of your remarks, his big eyes sparkling like jewels. you thought of the steady stream of texts from him day after day, reminding you to eat or commenting on a silly photo you took, and how that stream soon turned into a trickle. the memories make your body feel heavy.

taehyun says nothing for a few moments and just lets out a sigh. when he looks back at you there’s a pained look that wasn’t there before, and you feel an ache in your chest at the sight.

 “y/n, i... i don’t want you to worry about me like this. i can’t... i can take care of myself. please, please just trust me. i hate watching you worry like this.”

“oh, you hate watching me worry?” your tone rises before you even realize it. “and i hate watching you turn into this! you’re exhausted, taehyun. you’re not yourself anymore. i can’t even remember the last time i saw you smile! do you know how much it hurts to see the person you love lose himself like this?”

you tremble in your spot and your words start to trip over themselves. your emotions pile onto each other, keeping you from speaking straight: some anger, yes, but mostly disappointment, worry, loneliness, fear. “i ha一 i hate seeing you like this, taehyunie. i can’t一 i can’t watch一 i love you too much to see this一”

taehyun cuts you off to pull you into a hug. he holds onto you so tightly, as if trying to wrestle you away from the emotions gripping you. one of his hands makes his way through your hair. angry tears prick at your eyes but you relax in his hold, finally letting out a sob.

“i’m sorry,” he says, his hand combing through your hair then rubbing your back. “i know you’re just looking out for me... and you’re right. i am exhausted...”

something shifts and now you feel his full weight on you. now you’re the one holding him, his head moving to rest in the crook of your neck, his shoulders fully slumped. the weeks of exhaustion have finally caught up to him, and you wrap your arms around his waist to prop him up.

“i’m sorry, y/n,” he repeats. “for not... listening to you... for forgetting...”

your hold on him tightens and tears stream down your face, but you manage to speak. “i just don’t want you to hurt yourself...”

neither of you say anything more. taehyun doesn’t let go of you and sinks fully into your touch; despite the chill night air, he’s still warm in your arms. you let your tears fall freely as you keep a firm hold on the friend you love, as if letting go of him means he will sink and drown.

the night is so quiet that the murmur he lets out against your neck still comes out loud and clear.

“i love you too.”

[rosenclaws]

Can I request 15 and 34 from the fluff prompt list with either Logan or Charlie, please? Congrats on 600!! 💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛

Join my 600 Follower celebration!!

15 - “I’m asking because I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

34 - “I shouldn’t be allowed to be this happy.”

a/n: Thank you for requesting!!! Funny enough though they're both fluff prompts this somehow turned angsty dasflk;j im so sorry i do it to myself

He's hiding something. You know he is. Logan has just been different. I mean he was always grumpy and short tempered but this was something else. You thought, or well you had hoped that your time in the void had really bonded you.

You were trash from another universe while he had gotten dragged through hell by Wade. He got you and you got him. You were a failure to your universe so they pruned you. Logan was the worst variant of Wolverine. Something felt nice about having someone else who was the worst with you.

Ever since you landed in Wade's universe you had only gotten closer. Both of you picking up odd jobs for money until you finally landed a steady bakery job. Horribly early hours and lots of hard work but it meant you could be home by lunch. Logan was often out late too. He wouldn't tell you what he was doing but he came back with enough rent money so you didn't question him. You used to eat lunch together. It was a way to make sure the both of you were actually taking care of yourselves. It wasn't anything fancy. Just sandwiches or pasta or something easy.

But for some reason Logan has been avoiding you. Constantly. To the point where he'd leave the room if you were there. It was really starting to bug you. You don't know what's going on with him. You catch him staring sometimes. His eyes are worn and broken. When you try and approach him they harden right back up and he stalks away. It was infuriating.

You finally reached your boiling point when you came home early from work one day. Your back aching and you're dead tired. You lean your forehead against the door, just taking a moment. Then you hear him laugh. You know it's him. He's got this unmistakable snort that he tries to hide but he can't. So he's just avoiding you, no one else. Its you. You're the problem and you don't understand why. In a fit of anger you slam the door open.

"Out! Everyone except for you." You point at Logan. The room clears quickly. Wade opens his mouth to say something but you glare with a ferocity so strong he shuts up.

"Good luck kitty cat!" He whisper yells before hurrying out the door.

"What?" Logan grumbles, his eyes averting to the ground. You scoff and throw your things on the couch.

"What is your problem? You've been avoiding me."

"Why do you fucking care? Not like we were close anyways." He asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Bullshit Logan. I'm asking because I’ve seen the way you look at me. I see you across the room look so sad but the moment I even take a step you're back to this shit." You gesture to his closed off stance.

He's running from you and you demand to know why. He puffs out his chest and stands up. Mumbling about how ridiculous this is and tries to walk away from you.

"Logan! For fucks sake!" You follow him, your anger morphing into confusion as he continues to run.

"Just tell me what I did?!" Your voice breaks as the desperation comes out. You just want him back.

"Nothing!" He growls as he turns back to face you. Slamming his hand against the wall. You jump as he cages you in. He's breathing hard as he stares at you. This is the closest you've been in weeks.

"Nothing. You didn't do anything wrong." His voice is softer, sadder.

"There has to be something Logan. I miss you." He sighs and clenches his fist.

Fuck he thought he could avoid this. That he could get you to run away before he fucked it all up but for some reason you're still here.

"I shouldn’t be allowed to be this happy. I mean just look at me.” Logan thinks so low of himself. He always has. He's a fucked up lost cause. Everyone he cares about dies or gets hurt and its always his fault.

"You make me happy." He confesses.

You make him feel unlike anything else. Like he's not the monster he was. You look at him and he just, smiles. It's weird and strange and a feeling he's not used to. It scares him to his core.

"Man you really are stupid." You say in disbelief.

"I...What?" Logan looks confused but you grab his face and kiss him.

He stumbles back in surprise but ends up taking control quickly. Pushing you against the wall and digging his hands into your hips.

"You make me happy too Logan, so please don't run away from me."

You comb your fingers through his hair as you tug him closer to you. He closes his eye as he leans his forehead on yours. The urge to shut you out is there, listening would be easier but there's a chance at real happiness right in in front of him and he'd be a fool to ignore it.

"Fuck it." He grabs your waist and pulls you tight. Smashing his lips onto yours in a messy kiss.

He can be selfish, just this once.

Just for you.

[eruanee]

On Round 7 and the utility of sacrifice

⚠️ ROUND 7 SPOILERS ⚠️

I wanted to use this post to respond to some criticism I've seen circulating about Round 7 — it mostly being about Till's death making Ivan's sacrifice useless.

To be fair, this post doesn't aim to dismiss anyone's feelings or criticisms about R7 or Till's (presumed) death, they're all incredibly valid! I even have my own that I will talk about later. This post's only goal is really just to start a conversation about the general narrative of ALNST and how to write a compelling narrative in general. No matter what I'll say, people resonate with stories differently and expect different things from them, and that's okay!

Personally, I truly didn't expect Till to die. Before R7 came out, I even texted a friend saying this:

– If one of them has to die, I think it'll be Luka. Till's protagonist syndrome is too strong and his death would be narratively flat, I believe. – Yeah.

And well, shot missed, unlike the one that shot through Till's neck.

Though, I really do believe Till might not be dead, not only because of the #copium but this isn't really the point of this post — I will assume he is so I can discuss what his death would actually mean to the narrative and how it would impact it.

I understand that no one (including myself) expected R7 to go that way. A lot of it had us realizing we might have gotten some elements of the story wrong — something I didn't take into consideration is that the round was probably rigged to make sure Luka would win, which makes sense because of course that Alien Stage isn't the fairest competition (and if Ivan's pictures on the billboards aren't part of Till's hallucinations, this is plainly evil).

R7 also had us wondering what the goal of the rebels truly is: did they even intend to save Till? If not, why did they save Mizi, what did they see in her? Unlike what I first thought, like many others, it seemingly wasn't a rescue mission.

When I watched R7 for the first time, I audibly gasped the moment I saw the "Luka wins" sign appears and Till being shot down. And I thought "Ah, so that's the kind of story VIVINOS wanted to make." I was already a huge fan of their work before ALNST began, mostly of their horror stuff. When I watched it, I knew I was about to sit in front of absolutely devastating content that would leave me sick. The tragedy was always cruel, often unrewarding, but I would always ask for more. Good thing ALNST now exists, uh!

I mention this to state I went into ALNST expecting roughly the same thing and it's essentially what I got. I didn't expect Till to die but his death, in a way, didn't surprise me. Did it make me sick though? It sure did!

I do agree R7 feels incomplete. I think it's interesting that I have not a single idea of what's going to happen next, but my biggest regret is indeed that Till's death doesn't seem to do justice to his character or characterization.

Till, the rebellious misfit, always breaking rules to the point he has to be physically restrained, completely beaten by despair and trauma once again, dying on stage after he got a slight glimpse of hope he can never actually reach.

This is peak tragedy, and a beautifully animated one at that, but it doesn't feel like a compelling character development. If Till is truly dead, then he dies with the potential of being so much more. And this is truly sad and disappointing.

And this is why his death would make me sadder than Sua's or Ivan's. They got to choose their deaths and what it would mean for them, Till didn't. He was suffering and overwhelmed. He only accepted his fate because he got to know Mizi was still alive before his final moments. He got to die in her embrace, which is probably the only thing he could've asked for if that were to happen.

Sua's death got to introduce us to the reality of Alien Stage.

Ivan's death was an emotional climax. It conclused his character arc in a devastating way, but gave him a meaningful ending nonetheless.

Their deaths let us understand what kind of world Alien Stage takes place in : a cruel world where humans are pets to aliens, if not simple disposal. A world where feelings are never reciprocated until it's too late, where you long for something impossible until you realize you should've paid attention to what was right in front of your eyes, too.

Alien Stage is a show where the candidates' suffering are seen and consumed as mere entertainment.

In this system, I believe Sua's and Ivan's meaningful deaths are anomalies. Till's death is the standard. An extremely unfair event, result of an extremely unfair competition. This isn't about who deserves to survive, but about who manages to. If anything, I think the aliens are relieved Till is dead, as he was mostly a bother to them. Luka is beloved and accommodating.

A world where death is the easy escape, if not almost a selfish one. Sacrifice is an act of love, but also an act of egocentricity. The sacrifice aims to be remembered as selfless and generous, but in the end, they only "run away without any sense of responsibility". The gift sounds beautiful when actually, it might only be rotten.

In such a world, how can a sacrifice ever be useful? I guess Ivan's wasn't. A sacrifice only happens to create a possibility, a chance, a what if.

Another very frustrating part of Till's death to me is that I thought he had the power to be a protagonist. I still stand by it but he was robbed of this agency. Him being used as a narrative device for Mizi's protagonist plotline (at least that's what I believe) feels a bit cruel, even narratively.

Alien Stage can be a frustrating story because it seems there is no way out, which is ultimately not something people are seeking for very often in a story. I still hope there's a way out somewhere, maybe not for Till, but that would already be something.

As for now, it seems Mizi's role is to manage to make Sua's sacrifice, as well as all of these deaths, worth something. This is the 50th season of Alien Stage. The pile of corpses is leaking red.

I do wonder where the story is going to head.

At the very least, Till wasn't unknown till the end. You could say that being loved, even for a blink, makes one's life worthy to be lived.

[moonrisecoeur]

carnage — leon kennedy

author’s note: this is a secondary piece to apathy, another fic of mine!! that fic was mostly a vent fic, as i wrote it to kinda soothe myself and my own worries about how i feel as a person. however!! this fic was requested to be significantly darker and sadder, so if you don’t vibe with that, then i have good news for u !! leon and reader actually lived happily ever after in that universe!! the original intent of that fic is that the reader just has the self perception of a bad person but is actually not at all!! but this fic… is not that haha.. 

author’s note: if you see typos, no you don’t. they’re not real. this fic is... really messy. i'm kinda ashamed but i've been working on it so long that i need to just post it lol.

word count: 5.3k 

content: leon x reader, sub!leon, dom!fem!reader, angst angst angst, biting, hickieys, riding, choking, leon gets lightheaded and passes out, violent language. there's also a reference to a scene from apathy but from more of leon's recollection and memory! :)

warning: this fic is dark content, containing the topics and depictions of emotional abuse, manipulation, love-bombing ish, narcissistic reader, along with dubcon as reader doesn’t listen when leon expresses a boundary around choking. 

—

notes:

“you’re killing me here,” he says, a soft tone to his gravel-like voice. he is tired, exasperated. you are ripping him apart, stealing any sense of joy from his aching soul. he gives and gives and gives and he doesn’t know how much longer he has in him before you…  before maybe he admits that you were right. maybe you would ruin him.

you don’t know the half of it, you think. maybe i will really kill you one of these days.

—

leon is growing.. tired of you. 

not really. that’s a lie. he loves you dearly, so much that it kills him. you refuse to open up to him and he respects your boundaries. he just can’t keep begging you to let him in. he can’t do this forever. 

he’s not mad that you’re closed off, that you’re a loner and you’re introverted. he accepts you for what you are. he loves you regardless, but can’t you see this hurts him? can’t you at least make an attempt to make him feel better? pushing him away only hurts him, and why did you agree to a relationship if you knew that all you were going to do is hurt him? 

he supposes you warned him. that beautiful night that he convinced you to let him stay in your heart. he looks back at that moment, how you looked close to tears, pushing him back, telling him that you’ll ruin him and anything else you touch, and all he could think about is how badly he wanted to kiss you, to hold you close and wipe away the tears of frustration. he’s fond of that moment, when you decided to stay with him. when you said you’d take your time, move slowly, but you’d eventually let him in. he just had to be patient.

but its been months, and leon hates being wrong, but he might have been that night. 

–

leon’s always seen the good in you. he admires how gentle and sweet you are. you say it’s just a facade, and you know what? he doesn’t believe you. he knows you’re trying to protect yourself, but you’re lying. the version of you that you think is the real you is actually the facade. he knows it. he believes it, believes in you.

“i will begin to despise you if i let you in, you realize that, right?” you said to him that night, and he just shook his head, smiling. he adores you, almost amused at how you were making yourself out to be an awful monster in hopes he’d have understood that he could never fix you.

“and i will adore every moment of your resentment,” he said, and then followed it up with a whisper, under his breath, one you might not have heard, “i will let you ruin me.”

your touch is lethal, that much he’s certain of. he knows you’re not trying to hurt him, he’s convinced it's not in your nature to be intentionally cruel, “i won’t get better. i won’t change for you. this is what you’re stuck with.”

but what was he supposed to do? listen to you? heed your warning? he’s too foolish, too lovesick.

“it’s okay,” he reassures, reciprocating your harsh touch with his gentle one, fingertips making acquaintances with the way your skin feels in his grasp, the warmth of your touch. he’s starting to feel like this beautiful monster in front of him is a lot more human than she feels, “i like you as you are.”

-

leon doesn’t quite remember when you got so overbearingly possessive. maybe you were a little controlling, a little too demanding. it didn’t really make sense because anytime he tried to be possessive over you, you hated it. you certainly weren’t clingy. leon learned to control the instinct, the one that screamed in his head that you were his.  he gets it. you’re independent, not exactly into the jealous boyfriend type, sure. it only hurts his ego a little bit. 

he doesn’t really even remember when your behavior started going downhill. it was just like.. one day, he woke up, and you had left. not actually, you were just outside, but it feels symbolic somehow. he calls your name, and you don’t answer. he takes a couple steps closer, but he gets this eerie feeling he’s stepping into dangerous territory. he wonders if he should turn back, give you some time and let your soul come back to your body. 

“i don’t love you,” you said to him that day. 

it shattered him momentarily, but he knew your ways. he was aware of how you act and talk, your bluntness didn’t even surprise him anymore. he learned not to try and fight you on this stuff anymore.

that’s not true.. is what he wanted to say.

“…since when?” is what he actually ended up saying. 

you sigh, “i don’t know. i just woke up today and i realized i didn’t love you anymore.”

“do you… feel love for someone else?” he asks, but that’s not what he’s really asking. leon would never believe you if you said you cheated on him. you don’t even like people. you could count on your hand the amount of people you liked to talk to. 

leon maintains being one of them, of course. how could he believe that you made a connection with another man when you can only tolerate him? 

so, what he’s really asking is ‘do you… feel anything right now?’. sometimes emotions go away. sometimes you find yourself sitting outside in the early morning even though it’s cold and you’re shivering, wondering why you don’t love your boyfriend anymore. 

he puts his jacket over your shoulders. that feels symbolic somehow too.

it usually passes, but there’s something so final in your tone. like… for the first time, leon was worried you’re being truthful. he was worried you didn’t love him.

he had every reason to be. you used to pull away and then come right back to him, and now… you almost seem to resent him. crazy, it’s almost like you said this would happen. he hates that he was wrong about you, he hates that you were right. 

you flinch away when he touches you sometimes. your words are harsher than usual, more venomous, more lethal. you’re slipping away from him, you’re running away, and he’s begging for you to come back to him. just come back to him.

and even now, he looks at you and you aren’t the girl he fell in love with. but maybe you never changed. maybe he has just been blind. 

maybe you were exactly who you said you’d be. 

did you even want him? or would you get off anyway on taunting him?

did he mean anything to you?

-

“i am your… sculpture. your muse. i am everything you made me to be,” he says softly, one day during a vicious argument (only one of you is truly venomous), his eyes still red from the tears you made him spill, “if you do not like me, or if you don’t like what i’ve become, it is your own fault. i am only what you… did to me.”

he says pretty words that tug on your heartstrings if only to get some kind of empathy out of you. you’d normally scoff, spitting at him that he was a broken mess before you fixed him up, made him useful to somebody. 

“you act like i ruined you. like i made you worse. i did not drag you down with me. we were both broken. both disasters who just wanted to be loved,” you know you’re bullshitting just for pity points. doesn’t change the face that leon almost falters. almost gives in, lets you win. you were right, in a way. you were just being intentionally oblivious. 

“me wanting to be loved was… so much different. i wanted to be cherished and…held dear to you. you wanted a trophy that would make you feel better about yourself.”

“i am not the monster you say i am,” you scowl, finally he sees your harshness, your cruelty, and your dismissiveness in full force. how was he so blind?

“you’re right…” he says, “you… are so much worse.”

“then push me off of you, make me leave,” you groan, pinning him down like a caged animal. 

“i’m not… i..” i stutters, looking up the ceiling, “oh my god..”

“i am the only god you get to call out for,” you say as you press kisses to his collarbone, “i hold that power over you. i am your god.”

“i won’t worship you anymore,” he gasps, but his hands reach up to hold your hips, latching onto you for support and intimacy, like you are everything he’s ever needed and he despises you for it, “not what you’ve become. i can’t accept this…. version of you.”

“this is me, leon,” your voice is distant. resigned. he’s given up on you. and you’ve given up on him. 

so why do you demand his reverence so desperately? if you didn’t want him to run, why didn’t you treat him right in the first place?

“i love you, you know,” he says, tears pricking at his eyes, “i am just your design, molded to how you wanted me, but you designed me to love you… so that’s what i do.”

“i didn’t ask you to destroy yourself for me.”

“but i did anyway,” he closes his eyes, breathing ragged, “but i did and i did it because i loved you. i did it so that maybe one day you wouldn’t run away from me if i loved you too much. i.. i don’t act overbearing or clingy like i am inside because i am horrified of you leaving me. if i try too hard, if i want you too much, if am too desperate for your company… i will lose you. i can’t live with that.”

“then why do you call me worse than a monster? if you need me so badly?”

“because i..  i wanted you to destroy me and build me anew. recreate me in your image so you could have exactly what you wanted. make me exactly what you wanted!” he’s desperate for you to understand, but you never will. you don’t know desperation like he does, “i.. i just made the naive assumption that you would love your creation more than you loved what i used to be. that somehow.. if i let you ruin me, you’d finally love me.”

“i do love you,” you whisper, voice heavy with a tragedy you are all too familiar with.

“no… you don’t love anyone,” he bites, his teeth grazing his own lip like he would draw his own blood, “not even yourself. you’re incapable.”

“then it is your fault..” you say, cruelty laced into your voice, but how could you not be cruel when leon’s finally biting back? “you did this to yourself. you ruined yourself for someone you knew couldn’t love you.”

he feels broken. betrayed. how is this his fault? how could you hate him so intensely? how could you want him to suffer? do you enjoy watching him suffer? is that the only way he can make you happy anymore?

is that the only thing you want from him? his suffering? his tears?

does he give that to you? just… as one final way to make you happy? he’d ruin himself again and again to please you if you said so.

he’d give you anything.

you push him down, and he stumbles back onto the bed, looking up at you nervously. he notices the look in your eyes, the look of possession, you see him like an object or a toy. maybe he is. a trophy. you look at him like he’s something that makes you feel proud to carry around. leon kennedy. he’s a survivor, he's a killer, been through literal hell on earth. yet… your hands on him make him feel weak. he feels like he’s 21 again, on that bridge holding onto the last girl that dug her nails into his heart. 

“you’re fucking mine,” you growl in his ear, and he gasps and shudders, when did you get so close to him? you can’t put your hands on him like this, you can’t do this, his mind will go numb to the pain you cause and suddenly he’ll be held beneath you, inescapably yours. 

“you.. you need to… oh my god..” he was so close to saying it. so, so close. he tries so hard to push you away. to get you off of him. not in a way that he couldn’t stop you if he really didn’t want this. but that's just it; he’s trying to convince himself that he doesn’t want you for his own sake.

you make it so hard to hate you, truly. 

“you’re mine,” you growl in his ear, your nails digging into him like claws of a predator into its most delicious prey, “i own you. say that back to me.”

he cries like a baby, hating that he was naive enough to believe that the devil could love him, she could never love him and he could never please her enough to make her stay, “i’m yours, and.. and you own me,” he says, sniffling. he buries his head into the pillow. you push him, hold him down like he’s your captive. he might as well be. 

“and that means i own your pretty body, doesn’t it?” you smirk, god this control over him has always been addicting. you.. really own him.

“y-yeah..” 

“that means i can do whatever i want with you, doesn’t it? i can break you in every way possible, like a girl scribbling on and cutting the hair of her barbies. you don’t exist outside of me, outside of my pleasure.”

-

“fuck, you’re so hot when you’re sad..” you groan as you press kisses to his hip, and he didn’t even realize you had gotten his shirt off and his pants pulled down. he must have dissociated again. he sighs, upset but unable to will himself up to stop you.

at least you’re trying to please him, he supposes. your hands wandering all over him makes him feel alive, but he wonders if you’re imagining wrapping your hands around his throat and squeezing until he stops moving. maybe you would take a liking to killing. 

or maybe it’s just because it’s leon. leon is your weak, pathetic boyfriend that you’ll play with like a ken doll until you’re bored of him, and then you’ll either put him out of his misery or leave him to rot. maybe murder is mercy for him. the worst part is he looks just like a ken doll, blue eyes and blonde hair, except he’s a bit more broken. a bit scarred. damaged. is that why you don’t want him? he’s not perfect enough?

and then it happens. 

everything stops, his breath catches in his chest, he flinches almost like he’s surprised you still had it in you, but you kiss him. it’s not possessive and dark and commanding like he expects, like he’s begun to tolerate, but it’s you. it’s your softness, hidden underneath, that gentle lover that he misses so desperately. she’s back. she’s real again. 

you rest your forehead against his as you pull away from the kiss, leon chasing your lips briefly before remembering this is your moment, at your pace, but he’s looking up at you like you put the stars in the sky, his eyes sparkling with magic and passion and hope he hasn’t felt in a while. 

“come back to me..” he whispers gently, “i miss you.”

“i.. know,” you frown, and leon can tell you feel guilty. you are the monster in his nightmares, but you are also his guardian angel, “i told you, leon-”

“i know you did, i- i don’t want to fight with you right now,” his eyes flutter closed as you press your lips to his forehead, god he feels so cared for in moments like these.

but he knows they’re not real. he knows this version of you isn’t real, that your love is a false pretense and he is a fool for being swept off his feet by such an obvious facade. a monster that loves you is still a monster.

and leon knows it. knows that you love him, despite his insecurities and doubts. maybe it was safer or easier to ponder whether or not you loved him, to listen to you when you said you didn’t, instead of realizing that you did… just not enough.

he feels your grasp on his waist, the way your hands and mouth ravage his body. he knows you’re possessive, but it still shocks him how truly cruel you are. 

“please…” he whimpers, “be gentle with me..”

“ah, leon.. survived the apocalypse but can’t handle his girlfriend biting him a little too hard..” you chuckle, and it’s soft and you’re being sweet with him again and everything is okay. 

“don’t be like that, come on. it still hurts,” his voice is shaky, making you smile. such a sadist.

“don’t be such a baby,” you tease.

“just- okay, fine, but i don’t want any hickies or bite marks or anything. n-not anywhere visible, at least,” he stumbles when your fingertips drag across his collarbone, “please, baby. i need to hide them, my… my coworkers will get worried.”

he sees it in your eyes. mercy. begging always saved him.

“hmm… open your mouth,” you say, and he’s not even trying to follow the command, but the surprises causes his jaw to drop slightly, and you lean closer, before spitting directly into his mouth. 

your saliva tastes like your favorite flavor of gum, and leon smiles as he recollects that fact. it’s sweet of you to only do something like that to him when it wouldn’t be entirely unpleasant. maybe you didn’t think it out that far, but he likes to think you did. he wants to think you were considerate. he groans as he swallows it without even having to ask, almost sounding dehydrated, like you are his lifeline. 

your intentions, while a tad bit humiliating, are not cruel. but again, you’re showing possession. leon is yours to do whatever you please with. it’s marking your territory, in a way.

“thank you..” he shudders, hands clutching your arms, keeping you close. he’s not truly grateful, but he’s learned his place. 

“you’re welcome,” your tone is condescending, but leon’s thoughts are too far away to realize that. all he knows how to do anymore is be obedient.

a brief silence settles for a moment, as you rest atop of him, gazing at him like a predator does their next meal. 

“do you… want to fuck me now?” he asks awkwardly, cringing at how completely uncool he is. 

maybe someone else would laugh at his lack of charisma, but you just smile softly. 

“is that what you want?” in truth, he does want this. he does want you. and he prides himself on giving you whatever you want, everything, absolutely anything. it’s too bad all you know how to do is take.

he sighs, feeling heavy-hearted and drained. he can’t pinpoint why, “i love you. do whatever you want.”

you blink, and he wonders for a moment if you feel guilty again, but part of him can tell you’re not.

you narrow your eyes. he seems.. broken down by this point. honestly, ‘broken down’ might not exactly be the right wording. ‘broken in’ might be more appropriate. like a pair of boots that are only comfortable once you rough them up a little. 

it’s at that moment that he realizes the softness he saw in you just now is fading away rapidly, replaced again by the monstrous beast that is his darling lover. at least she’s familiar now. it’s his fault. you are exactly who you said you were. he should have believed you. 

he thinks this is it, that this is the last time he’ll get to have you before you leave him. you steal all of his sunshine like a parasite, robbing him of all of his life energy and taking it for yourself. the only way you can feel whole anymore is to take leon apart and use him for everything his mortal body and soul has to offer. 

he remembers being the light in your life, cheering you up when you were down. you were his moon, and he shined his light onto you like the sunlight gives way to moonlight. 

but that isn’t real anymore. you aren’t the damaged but loving person he used to know. 

“are you… going to leave after?” he asks. he’s pouting ever so slightly but he doesn’t realize it.

you just gaze at him, eyes soft but knowing, and he can’t help but crying. he tries so hard not to be clingy or ‘too much’. makes himself less and less to make you comfortable. 

“please don’t leave me,” he cries, “please, i can’t bear to think about it. my… my love, please..”

part of him feels like if he lets you leave again, you won’t ever come back.

he can’t understand why he’s so desperate for you to stay. he feels your hand around his neck as you lean in close to kiss his shoulder, you don’t squeeze but your presence is known and feared just like you like it, your other hand falling lower and lower until… 

leon can’t fathom just how wrong he was about you, about everything in general, but what hurts the most is putting the timeline together. it starts with him realizing he loved you. you realizing you loved him. the gentle, sweet months he got to spend with you. sure, you were unconventional, but he’s not the nuclear family type either. 

to him realizing you didn’t love him, actually. 

to then realizing that you did love him, but not enough to change for him. that one hurt the most.  knowing that you’ll always choose your comfort over him.

and to finally coming to terms with the fact that your love is strong and real but it is rotten, that you and your heart are corrupting him and made something tragic out of him. 

he sighs, letting it all happen. he might as well let you have what you want. he feels your hand rubbing against the fabric of his pants over his crotch, teasing him. 

he’s almost happy you’re using him one last time for sex. it’ll give him something to distract his mind from the sadness that’s creeping into his heart.

“i think… my boy needs to feel good.. so he can stop thinking sad thoughts..” your free hand pulls his sweats down and feel him up over his boxers, and he hates that he’s getting hard. that he likes this. he likes being taken by the big, bad monster.

he lets you touch him, lets you strip him down both metaphorically and physically, until he’s bare, a blank canvas ready to be ruined. he has literal scars from bites that drew blood, teeth bared into his skin like you’re trying to consume him alive. 

maybe you are.

this isn’t intimate sex between two lovers. this is carnage. this is ravaging, taking what is rightfully yours. it may not be violence in its usual form, but you are no less deadly. 

you really can’t help yourself when you have the urge to grab his throat, can you? hold his life in your hands, why don’t you?

he wants to make love to you, to hold you close like he used to, fuck you until your mind let go of its need to be in control, to be apathetic and composed and cold and just let you be the soft soul he knows is in there, fucking somewhere in there. 

instead of that, he gets something completely different. claiming. ownership. you mark your territory like an violent dog, biting and scratching and ruining him until everyone else in his life got the hint that he wasn’t allowed to play with anyone else. 

you’re violently possessive, that’s the only way he can put it. and even now, when he should be kissing you and moaning in your ear about how good you feel around his cock, how perfect you are for him, how he wants to be good for you, exactly what you want in your man, he.. can’t. 

all he can do is whine and whimper like an injured puppy. 

instead of kissing you, he’s begging for mercy. instead of making love to you, he’s lost in a daze of pain, mixed in with the pleasure of his cock buried inside of you. your teeth fucking hurt when you bite him like a damn vampire. just like the last time you were in a possessive mood, you bite him hard enough to make him bleed.

“i… i love you,” he whimpers after the fact, his voice is shaky like he’s desperate, “i love you but you’re… i don’t like it when you’re like this”

“who do you belong to?” you ask, suddenly. 

it feels unrelated, but even though leon’s eyebrows furrow at the question, he responds, like it’s an instinct, or rather more it’s a response he’s gives hundreds of times, “you. it’s.. always gonna be you.”

“… i love you too, you know. sometimes i think you don’t believe me,” rich coming from the ‘i don’t love anybody’ girl, he thinks, “but i do. i’m always gonna love you. you just don’t like the way i love you.”

“because the way you love me is killing me.”

“i’m not a killer. you asked me to let you in. this is the real me, leon. if you don’t like what you see… then don’t look.”

“i do but i-”

“you wish you were the exception to the rule. you want to be the reason i change. honestly, leon? i’ll never get better. and i told you that months ago, but you never listened. you thought you could fix me.”

“you aren’t broken,” he whispers.

“then why do you insist on changing me?” 

he scoffs, “that’s rich coming from you.” he knows you’ll get annoyed at him for his sass, but he can’t help it. you’re a violent hypocrite and he adores you, but he can’t ignore the irony of you feeling forced to change.

you tighten your grip on his neck, and he should have told you months ago but he hates being choked. brings up old memories that he’d rather not remember. he doesn’t really know why he lets you do it, why he tolerates it. maybe it’s because you seem so pleased to be in control of his life like that. he can’t afford to piss you off too much. you might like murder a little too much. 

“why do you insist on fixing me?” you ask again. loosing up your grip to let him talk.

“i… i never wanted to fix you. i just wanted you to love me. i wanted… to make you happy.”

he lets out the cutest gasp when you finally use your free hand to pull his cock free, not even bothering to pull his boxers down all the way.

“awh, you’re still so soft, baby. do you not want me?” you taunt him, and he quickly tries to reassure you, shaking his head. 

“n-no! i do! i want you, just.. just give me a second..” he stutters helplessly, but his voice gives out when you lean down to kiss his hip bone, and then your lips trail down lower and lower, adoring his thighs with the remnants of your lip gloss, “oh god…”

he’s pretty. pretty like a prey animal. 

you decide that maybe its not fair to him that he’s almost butt naked and you’re still fully clothed, so you undress too. leon appreciates that you do it to please him. 

“i… you’re so fucking pretty,” he whimpers, begging you to kiss him again. can he just pretend like you’re making love? instead of… whatever this is? 

his cock isn’t super big, so it’s not hard to fit inside, especially since he’s just barely getting hard. seeing your body was enough to get him going. he likes everything about you. every beauty mark or mole or freckle, every scar and each divot and curve, he adores you.

your smile isn’t appreciative. it is greedy. avaricious. you.. need more of him. 

“you feel… so perfect inside of me..” you groan, the grip on his neck tightening as he obediently rocks his hips up to fuck you. his hands grasp at the sheets, white knuckles displaying how tense he feels. 

a shaky, almost fearful moan escapes his throat, “please.. please don’t squeeze that hard.”

again, leon doesn’t like being choked.. so many times he’s almost been killed, and yet… you don’t seem to care. you don’t squeeze hard enough to make him pass out, but he’s getting lightheaded, so much so that you’re having to pick up the slack of bouncing on his cock since he’s unable to keep pace. he just lays there helplessly while you steal away his life.

“leon..” you tease, holding in a giggle, and trying to stir his attention, but his eyes get cloudy and he can’t focus on you, can’t look you in the eye meaningfully.

all he can respond with is a half-hearted attempt at a ‘huh?’. it’s honestly kind of cute how easily fucked out he gets. you ease up, and he breathes deeply for the first time in a couple minutes, gasping out ‘thank you’s like you just saved his life instead of almost killing him. 

“i’m sorry you got stuck with someone like me, baby,” you murmur, you’re not really sorry. tears fall down his cheeks, and you lean down to lick them up like a dog drinks her water. he cringes, disgusted at the feeling, but you own him so intrinsically.. how could he ever stop you from doing exactly what you wanted to him? this was your world. he just lived in it.

—

leon wakes up the next morning, expecting to be alone in your shared bedroom after you had left. you’re not completely awful, you clean him up and bandage any cuts after you finished with him… and leon realizes he doesn’t exactly remember anything after you choking him a little too aggressive, he must have passed out. did he cum even while unconscious? he’s almost impressed.

he doesn’t remember you leaving, just the looming thought in his mind that you will leave. there was no doubt about it.

you’re not there, clearly, and he doesn’t hear you anywhere in the bathroom or in the kitchen. the silence is deafening. 

maybe you’re on a walk to clear your head? 

maybe… you’re really gone.

but your stuff is still at home, so he thinks you might still stay. he cant decide if that’s a good thing. sure, he can’t exist without you, so codependent it’s pathetic, but… you’re not exactly good for him. maybe it’d do him some good to pull himself together and get over you. if he even can.

he loves you. helplessly. desperately. but you love his pain more than you love him. that’s the truth and there’s no denying that. you are.. exactly who you said you’d be. it’s his fault for not believing you.

[maxphilippa]

An Small Analysis Post On Lightbulb, Because I Hate How The Fandom Butchered Her Character As A Whole.

I'm making this post mostly as a reminder to myself To Not Hate Lightbulb because I actually think she's a pretty interesting character, but the way the fandom portrays her kinda ruined my interest for her.

The fandom's portrayal of Lightbulb ultimately just sticks to the nonsensical/silly aspect of her, which is pretty much what Lightbulb didn't want on canon to begin with. Interpretations and all that are understable, but I would like to just point out some things about Lightbulb. She's not just whimsy and sillyness and nonsense, her whole arc is about literally Toxic Positivity, Lack of Compromise, Lack of Leadership skills, Lack of Connection With Others and Unhealthy Copying Mechanisms.

Now Max, what the hell are you talking about? Well.

I personally think that Lightbulb is a genuinely good character. The way she copes with stuff really makes you see that she's really not doing great mentally. Of course, toxic positivity and sillyness may be her way to cope, because if no one sees her being vulnerable, they will never know what may hurt her the most.

I do think that she cared for Marsh in the same way Paintbrush did, but dare I say she also lacks emotional intelligence when it comes to comforting others or accepting those feels. Why talk about them seriously when you can just joke around and make them laugh about the issue? Of course that didn't happen.

Lightbulb has attachment issues, she doesn't want to be left alone, and she doesn't seem to be conscious over the fact that her attitude and way to approach others IS why she never truly got too many significant relationships at all until the very end, only for all of her friends to leave.

Having a "I don't care :]" attitude only did it so much worse for her on an emotional stand point because she ended up caring so SO badly for the remaining members of her group, and when her team was going down, she didn't know what to do or what to say at all. On late s2 she's actually getting the needs of her teammates and their struggles.

But I want to note something here. The reason as to why she "ditched" Test Tube so quickly on the alt dimension ep was because she thought that she found people that got her, people who were going through it but just wanted to keep thinking positively, and at the end of the day, that just doomed her. Because she realized that they weren't like that. She didn't find anyone that got how she felt.

You can only hide so much things with laughs and shenanigans and attitudes and addictions, before you realize that you have to own your mistakes and have to ACTUALLY TRY to be a better person.

Now, I don't think that Lightbulb meant things to go that way.

Thus all of these things are so much sadder when Fan and Test Tube get eliminated and Lightbulb is left alone. For the first time she ACTUALLY tried to let go off her unhealthy copying mechanisms and got close to people and lost them on the process. She lost all of her team because she didn't care seriously enough.

She's alone.

She doesn't like being alone at all.

So she's currently suffering the consequences of her actions.

And she doesn't like being alone.

Lightbulb struggles so SO much with having healthy relationships and healthy connections because she never was honest with herself at all. And when she realized that in order to be close to others, you have to grow and let yourself feel, it was far too late.

Her whole team is gone because of her lack of care for it and how she sucked at being a leader despite being an light to them, her unhealthy copying mechanisms indicate that she's been like that for a long time, and that the attitude she took was in order to cope with things feeling so so bad.

I really want to see what they'll do with her once s2 is back again. But for now, we can only hope so much.

[mythica0]

Doctor tickle monster

🎂: Fop: A new wish (cause I’m hyperfixating WOO)

🧁: Dev

🍫: Peri

Summary: Dev is being sad. Sadder than usual. Peri helps.

A/N: my hyperfixations changing faster than life’s trajectory (I haven’t even finished the loud house yet here we are🫡) I needed some Lee Dev in my life so *yeets this fic in your general direction* (P.S we’ll say this takes place after the finale in an alternate timeline but I don’t think there’s any spoilers in here)

Doctor tickle monster

Dev was sad. That much Peri knew. I mean, not really ground-breaking; the kid was sad all the time. [even though he usually hides it behind anger, annoyance or apathy. Pushing people who try to help away because he never learned proper emotional regulation skills or how to communicate with people]

But it was a little.. more than usual. He had been pouting all day, hiding his sad eyes behind his sunglasses. When Peri Asked him what was wrong, at first the kid pushed him away- as he tends to do- but after a while he caved.

“It’s nothing, Peri- it’s stupid.”

“Your feelings aren’t stupid, kid. No matter what your dumb, pea-brained father says.”

That got a small huff of amused breath from the kid. “I know that, it’s just- there isn’t really a reason for me to be sad. Which is just making me more upset because I don’t know why I’m upset.”

The two fell into a small silence. Dev looked down at his shoes, embarrassed by the fact that his eyes were forming tears. Peri was thinking.. ‘how in the world do I cheer him up if there isn’t a problem for me to fix..?’ He thought for a moment, and then seemed to get an idea.

He made a ringing sound, and put a hand up to his ear in a phone gesture. “Brriiing, Brriing,” Dev looked up at his godfather, confused.

“Hello? Doctor? We have a level 5 situation here.”

‘What in the world is he doing?’

“What’s that? You’ll be here right away? Excellent! See you very soon.” He let his hand fall away from his ear, and then he turned around suddenly wearing a stethoscope, and spoke in a slightly different voice.

“Hello, I was called about a level 5 case of the blues?”

Dev raised his eyebrows and looked at him. “What?”

“Ah, you must be the patient! Your godfather gave me a call- said you had a case of the blues for no identifiable reason! So I’m here to help!

His curiosity officially peaked, Dev spoke, almost sarcastically. “And how are you gonna do that?”

“Simple! But first, I have to tell you something..” the ‘doctor’ gestured for Dev to come closer, and he did. Then the ‘doctor’ whispered to him,

“I’m no ordinary doctor- I’m Dr.monster-…” he paused for a moment, before scooping the kid in his arms and starting to vibrate his hand in his stomach “- Tickle monster!”

Dev burst into giggles at the touch, squirming slightly in the hold. “Peheheheheri! Whyhyhy thihihihis!!”

“I’m not Peri, I’m Doctor tickle monster- and because this is the number one treatment for cases of the blues! They do say laughter is the best medicine, after all!”

Although he wouldn’t admit it, even to himself, dev laughed slightly harder at the silly act his fairy godfather was putting on.

“Cohohohome ohohon! Quhuhit ihihit!!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that- not until you are officially cured! And there’s still a ways to go until then!”

Dev kicked and pushed at Peri’s arms, but it was half-hearted at best. [Dev knew that he could wish for Peri to stop if he really wanted him too. Not that he would say he was enjoying himself]

“And there’s that precious smile! And you do have quite an adorable laugh if I do say so myself!”

Dev’s face went red at the comment, and he frantically tried to deny it. “I ahaham nohohohot cuhuhuhute!!

“Well, your giggles say otherwise~” Peri was having fun teasing and tickling his kid to pieces. It was nice to see him smiling and laughing and full of joy. Lord knows he needs it.

He could tell that the kid was having fun. If he wasn’t, Peri would’ve stopped. His goal was to cheer him up, not make him resentful or more upset.

Meanwhile, Dev was in such ticklish bliss agony, Giddy giggles and laughter poured out of him non-stop.

“Pehehehrihihi! Ihihihit tihihihickles!!”

“Well, duuuuhhh, that’s the point of me tickling you, kid.” At the words, Peri decided to up the ante a bit, moving his hands to his sides and squeezing gently, then moving his head to give the kid a massive raspberry right on the tummy.

Dev squealed, much louder laughter erupting from him without his permission. It tickled so BAD!

“EEEHHEEEEEE! PEHEHEHERIIHIII! THaHAT REHEALLY TIHIHICKLES EHHEHAHHAHAHA!”

“Aww really~? Good! OM NOm” Peri nibbled the kids tummy and made silly noises as he continued to tickle him silly.

Dev laughed and laughed. “Heheheheheee peheheriii StahahahaPpp!”

Peri relented for a moment, not entirely stopping, but moving to much gentler tickles, just lightly scribbling on the kids ribs.

“You cured? Are the blues allllll gone?”

“Yehehehes! Ahahall gohohone!”

“Are you suuuuureee~”

“Yehehehes! Yehehes ihihim suhuhure plehehase stohohop!” The kid giggled out, causing Peri to stop and set him back on the floor, the stethoscope gone.

Dev continued to giggle for a moment, leftover tingles still plaguing his torso.

But, he couldn’t deny the facts. He felt significantly better. He was smiling, and he found that even if he tried he couldn’t stop.

Peri flew next to him. “Feeling better?”

Dev blushed slightly, but still sighed out a “… yeah.”

“I’m glad. I’ll just have to give the good doctor a call every time you’re sad! ”

“Noooooooo” Dev whined, but he was still grinning ear to ear.

“Yes~,” Peri mocked, “new rule- no sadness allowed!! If I see a sad Dev- he gets alll the tickles until he feels better! I have a feeling we’re gonna see a lot more of that smile~~”

“Ugghhhhh” Dev whined again, clearly embarrassed.

Dev was smiling for a long time.

———THE END————————————————

[days-until-burnout]

You want to write boat boys but need ideas? Joel did just build himself a room in Etho’s base, maybe a short fic about him trying to subtly move in.

Not the best idea at all, but it’s something. Good luck writing :)

you're in luck because there are no mistakes in this account 😌 and how could i refuse or reject a boat boys idea? it'd be losing a part of myself if i did that! also, this got a little sadder than intended. this was supposed to be a comedy but not! enjoy<3! _____

📧 Day 33 -

Characters - Etho/&Joel Words - 1,702 Time - 50 mins Content - Hermitcraft | Ambiguous relationship

Joel looked around. Nervous was an understatement. And to think this all started with Iskall’s Mission Possible. It was very much possible, and rather easy to achieve too, so why did he have to go for some unnecessary extra? Not like he would be getting extra rewards or anything; in any case, if caught, he would be losing. Mainly in the ego department. He could already imagine Etho mocking him for the rest of their lives. Really, of all the bases on Hermitcraft, he chose Etho’s. With everything they had going on, their obsessed ‘bit’, he really could not have chosen a better hermit (that was sarcasm, very much sarcasm).

Eventually, Etho stepped out of his base and Joel ducked further into the bushes, covered by the leaves, watching his every move. He watched him equip his elytra and get some rockets, tossing some in the air and easily catching them. What a dork. Etho set off shortly after, and Joel waited until he could not hear the rockets anymore before transforming himself into his tanuki form. It came with the downside that he had a shulker backpack with his inventory, but it had to do. 

He got on all fours and jumped out of the bush, rapidly making his way to Etho’s base through an open window. If anything, he should have flown in through the caving roof. He spared a glance, cringing at the purpur blocks, only reminded of that conversation with Pearl. That was past, and now was now, which was sneaking down Etho’s base as quickly as he could. Knowing him, he had no doubt Etho would come back suddenly after having forgotten something. 

Graciously, he kept his eyes down, high enough to see where he was going but careful to not peek at any new thing. And maybe he should explore, after putting the shulker down, Etho would be none the wiser at finding a random tanuki at his base. Sure, he would probably hear some teasing about sending a spy or something, a little guy to keep track of him, but that would be easier to wave off than having to explain that he had a room in Etho’s base. A secret room. A room that we would be furnishing, a room that he was making way too cozy. It hit him randomly that maybe he wanted to move in. 

He walked right into the wall for that, which he felt he deserved. 

The contents of the shulker rattled when he fell back, his tail caught at a weird angle that made him grimace. He let out a manly squeak of pain, still quiet in case someone else was around to prank Etho, or who knows, maybe someone else decided to move in too. That thought made him feel unwarrantedly jealous. Bothered by a non-existent (that he knew of) hermit. This was a very bad idea, much too stupid and idiotic with too high risk with… an equally high reward. 

He did miss their nights together on the Relation, even if he never really hunkered down to talk about it with him. 

That, too, was annoyingly frustrating. All that emotional, sappy feelings thing. Etho’s fault. All of it. If anything, Etho should have invited him to spend the night, many nights in fact, because they were former soulmates and now… 

Joel looked up at the mailbox, at the light, an odd ache cruising through his chest because he knew none of the mail was from him. He should reach out too, even if Etho should more. Because he was a catch, and Etho was lucky to have been his soulmate… even if he was not sure if Etho felt that way. He had felt lucky to team with him, and might have joked about it once or twice, though Etho had never…

This was stupid. His tail thumped behind him, and he forced himself to his paws, ignoring the pain on his nose, resuming his journey. The sooner he dropped off the things, the sooner he could leave. Back to Magic Mountain, back to the people who had actually asked him to base with them. They wanted him, so it made sense to return the sentiment. He was wanted in Magic Mountain, not here. 

The stone tunnel was cold, artificially bright and cold. Worse on his paws, but it had to do. The fake wall swished open and he dashed in, dropping the shulker in front of him. It took a couple minutes to move the items to the chest, deciding that he would sort it out another time, when his feelings and his head stopped being absolutely useless about Etho. The shulker shrunk, enough that it actually looked like something someone his size could carry around comfortably. He pressed his face to it and pushed it out of the way, just outside the hidden room, looking back to admire it for a moment. If Etho found out, he would probably tear it down. Send a letter teasing him and that would be it. Deeply, he wished Etho would not find out about it, foolishly feeling like they still had a connection this way. Maybe when he felt braver he would snuck in and spend the night, they would sleep under the same roof one more time. 

Of course, he would have to leave before sunrise. 

He turned around, feeling pathetic and stupid, small hiccups catching in the back of his throat as he fought back the tears. His tail dragged behind him, the shulker so much heavier on his back than earlier. He thought about staying inside to cry his eyes out, let Etho find him and just cut this dumb bit early. 

Instead of Etho, however, a white fox found him as he climbed back to the main house. It sat with its forelegs in front of it, tail curled around its paws, almost like a statue but it tilted its head, ears flickering with the movements. It stared, and Joel stared back at it, frozen mid-step.

Neither made a sound, staring for what felt like eternities, until the fox uncurled its tail. Slowly, Joel watched it get up, elegant and graceful, intentionally slow. Then he shrieked when the fox jumped him, instinctively fighting back. The straps of the shulker snapped, rolling off somewhere as they rolled too. He had an advantage with grip, but the fox seemed all too worried about using its jaw, biting on his limbs and tail where he could, ducking almost… un-animal-like. 

After a couple minutes of scuffling, the fox managed to pin him on his tummy, both fore paws on his back, a hind leg on his tail and the other on the floor for balance. Joel fought, for two seconds before becoming batter on the floor, a sudden wave of defeat washing over him. A sniff escaped him, brief but loud enough to be noticed. The fox pressed its snout on his neck, nuzzling before the weight grew, more and more before the fox stepped back. Soon enough, he was free, still too sad to move, only doing so because the fox grabbed him and turned him over. 

But foxes could not grab with hands. 

Joel looked up almost startled to find Etho, of course it was Etho. He had seen him transform into his fox form, plenty in Double Life, not so much after, and only a handful times during his brief visits on Hermitcraft during the Decked Out 2 event. It was not something Etho liked to do, but… but had admitted to feeling compelled too when their souls were bound. 

It had been a while, then, if he had forgotten how the fox looked like. 

Slowly, involuntarily, he transformed back in Etho’s lap. His arms still holding him despite the change in size. 

“Hi,” Etho whispered, and Joel heard the grin with the matching crinkled eyes. His reply lacked as he buried his face into the crook of his neck, arms wrapping around his neck tight. Etho held him too, almost as tightly, but not quite because he was much stronger than him after all. He breathed in stutters, trying to hold the sobs down and half-succeeding. “What were you doing here, huh? Pranking me?”

“Something like that,” he said, shaky but he said it. Etho’s chin landed on his shoulder, a nice pressure that quieted his mind a little. 

“Yeah? Going to blow me up? Or are you going to slowly replace my roof? Or, maybe, you are the distraction.”

“I wanted to see you.”

There it was. The truth. The admission. No longer in Joel’s hands, no longer for him to worry or think about. He had to shut the anxiety of rejection, the fear that he might have made this awkward, that he had ruined whatever thing they had. This was it, then, Etho would never want to see him again. No more bits, no more mail, no more pranks. Nothing. This was it, their final interaction without another hermit. Him in Etho’s lap, on the verge of crying his eyes out while his hidden room remained (hopefully) undetected. Like losing everything all over again. When they had died on that trapped portal, when their soul became two again. 

At least he could hug him a final time, which was nice. He would remember this hug forever. And that memory would remind him that his arms would never feel full ever again either, which was not as nice. 

“Funny,” Etho laughed against his neck, breath hot and tingling against his skin, a smile on his lips also pressed on his skin, lips, a kiss, then another, slowly nibbling up to under his ear, “I was just going to fly over and find you.”

Joel choked between a laugh and a sob, screwing his eyes shut and scrunching the collar of his coat in his hands tight, burying further into him like he never wanted to let go, like he wanted to be one again like before. “You… are so obsessed with me… It… You’re so pathetic, Eefo.”

“You’re one to point fingers,” Etho giggled, tugged at his tail, making him let out a startled squeak before thumbing his tail hard, “soulmate.”

_____

me when boat boys: goes absolutely insane with wpm i have no bias. absolutely none. i dont, and will never have favorites i would ramble more, but i have none brain with left silly

[thoughtfulseason]

it was SUCH a weird day today… or more like evening since i slept through the day

idk if it’s funny or terrible but i went to sleep at 2 am last night (which happens but rarely) and my alarm was at 10 but i was feeling so bad that i slept until now. 2 PM!!! what the fuck. so fucking weird. it’s literally two hours until i have to eat my dinner and go to training what even…

[sterlingsilver-starlight]

Talk Too Much 💘

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Female Reader

Genres: Hurt/comfort, angst, drama, fluff, romance

Content Warnings: flashbacks of emotional abuse (reader has emotionally abusive mother), self-harm (briefly graphic), implied suicidal thoughts, brief strong language (mild throughout), intimate moments (very steamy makeout session, but nothing further)

Word Count: 3195 words

Summary: When Reader excuses herself to the bathroom, Seonghwa begins to grow suspicious as minutes turn into an unusually long absence. Can he unravel the truth behind her melancholy, and perhaps something deeper?

Inspirations: During the sadder parts, “Kamihitoe” by Uru and this slowed/reverbed version of Lolo Zouaï’s “Desert Rose” were my comfort. And then for the cute parts, BLACKSWAN’s “Cat & Mouse” :)

(I love the title GIF for this 🤭 but I also am still recovering from the Arriba one…I swear, I will not be the same when the full song drops in a week 😩🥵) I had something like an epiphany while writing this…the comforting words resonate on many levels, and I had to remind myself that people like that do exist out there. Even if there is someone in your life who throws harsh words or vibes your way, that’s not to say someone who does the exact opposite might not cross paths with you, too ✨🫶🏼

Also please note: This is in no way supposed to represent or depict the actual Park Seonghwa; this is just created for storytelling/entertainment purposes only :D

A hard swallow, followed by the relentless jab of another burgeoning stomachache. You set your fork down again, barely scraping the potatoes at the edge of your plate. 

“Hwa, I…I don’t feel too good. I can’t eat this right now.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile as you got up from your seat. “It’s alright. Just…let me know if you need something. Okay?”

You offered a small smile, biting your lip. “Y-yeah. Okay.”

The bite dug deep enough to draw blood, but you tasted nothing like iron on your tongue. It was a flavor you had become all too accustomed to, one too bittersweet to fully enjoy or shy away from.

As soon as you were out of your friend’s line of sight, you bolted down the hall for the bathroom, only slowing down once you’d gone inside and shut the door. 

A click at the knob. A snap of the fingers, idiosyncratically, to distract yourself from the sudden echo the lock gave. Did he hear that?

You hoped to God not. 

Seonghwa was your most trusted confidant, but even the strongest of bonds could harbor skeletons in the closet, so as far as you were concerned, it would need to stay that way until you were able to get over this on your own.

Slumping against the door, you let yourself slide down to the ground, hugging your knees as they bunched up against your chest. 

You didn’t know what you would ever do if he found out. About the thoughts, about the self-hatred…

Heck, let alone the self-harm.

Seonghwa was the twinkling star in your life, lighting up any room he entered, constantly finding ways to make you crack a smile from absolutely nothing. He was too precious for this world, you were sure of it.

Which is why, on this otherwise fine and calm evening, you found yourself yet again questioning why in the hell he put up with you as much as he did.

What if you were just fooling yourself? What if this persona you felt from your very core was nothing more than an act, masquerading from the demon that had hidden inside you from years long past?

A silent cry threatened to surface. You took a sharp breath and reached in your pocket, fumbling around until you felt what you had been looking for: a rusted metal nail file.

The lump in your throat made you feel guiltier. It’d been mere days since you’d promised yourself that this wasn’t going to be an option…

Again.

But though time could heal wounds, it could only erase so many still embedded within your subconscious, still playing like a broken record during your moments of uncertainty and vulnerability.

“Do you ever shut up?! I swear, one more word and I’ll rip your tongue off!”

You bit your lip harder, genuinely wanting to taste the pain. What did it matter anymore?

“Sure, keep doing that shit. So we can all feel sorry for you and tiptoe around your stupid feelings? I don’t think so!”

You gasped with every memory, tears blinding and blurring your bearings, the file now slashing oh-so elegantly through your flesh like a knife through butter. 

“Slam your door again and I’ll make sure your head is the next thing that slams against the wall!”

You almost didn’t notice the crimson streaming down your arm, or the way it cascaded onto your other hand, dyeing the creases of your palm in a heartbeat, while numbness continued feeding your indifference.

Maybe there is no purpose to my life. Maybe I’m just meant to be a casualty and —

“Y/n?” You jolted, the three knocks on the door vibrating through your skull.

But you said nothing, afraid even a single syllable would give away your current state of mind.

“Y/n?” Seonghwa repeated, the worry carrying in his voice.

Panic kicked in and you started hyperventilating. Much to your chagrin, however, that only alerted him more.

“Okay, I-I’m coming in.” You heard the twists and click of the knob — darn it, I forgot he has keys for the place — and hastily shuffled over to the adjacent wall as he squeezed his way into the bathroom. 

A sharp gasp hushed within the small room. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the scene before him: the rusted nail file still in your hand, the blood-stained arm, the haunted look on your face — it broke your heart, to have him see you like this.

What you didn’t realize, though, was just how much his heart was breaking.

“Hwa, I…I’m sorry.” You hugged yourself tighter, wanting nothing more than to be a turtle hidden inside its shell. 

“Y/n…what happened?” His voice was laced with worry as he carefully approached you.

You tried to conceal the evidence, quickly slipping the file back into your pocket and attempting to wipe away the blood with the hem of your sleeve. But the damage had already been done. “I…I just had a little accident, is all. N-no big deal,” you stammered, furrowing your eyebrows as you looked away. 

He crouched down in front of you, gently lifting your chin to meet his eyes. “Y/n, don’t lie to me. What’s going on?”

A lump formed in your throat, and for a moment, you debated whether to spill your darkest secrets or to continue this facade. But when you saw the hurt in his eyes, you knew what your answer must be.

“I…I’ve been struggling, Hwa. There’s this darkness inside of me that just won’t go away,” you whispered finally, trying not to cry mid-sentence.

His expression softened, and he pulled you into an embrace. “You don’t have to face it alone, Y/n. I’m right here for you, always.”

The warmth of his hug felt like a lifeline, a tether grounding you in this moment of many that felt overwhelmingly chaotic. Tears streamed down your face as you clung to him tightly, slowly but surely releasing the weight that you had been carrying alone for far too long.

Seonghwa pulled away slowly, his hands holding yours gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? And then we can talk about this, together.”

You nodded, rubbing your thumbs against his in return. “Okay.”

He helped you to a standing position, and from there you both walked over to the medicine cabinet: you leaning slightly on the sink countertop, him removing a roll of gauze, bandages, and a few creams. Grabbing a nearby cloth to run it under warm water, you inhaled nervously. As he began tending to the wounds on your arm, still streaked in raw red, you hesitated, grappling with the storm of emotions brewing deep down. The bathroom felt like a fragile sanctuary, and you were on the verge of shattering its peace with the weight of your confessions.

“Hwa,” you began hesitantly, “I’ve…heard things. About myself. Terrible things that echo in my mind every day.”

He looked up at you, eyes brimming with a warm understanding. “It’s okay. Tell me as much or as little as you need to.”

With a shaky breath, you started to unravel the web of painful words that had been haunting you, from the cruel insults and relentless belittlement at home to the internalized hatred that had since taken root in your heart.

“I’m a failure. That’s what she says. My own blood mother.” You shuddered. “That I’m a disappointment, a burden…that her life would have been better if not for the presence of such an ungrateful bitch like me…t-that I ruin everything around me.” Your voice wavered as you stopped to catch a breath.

Seonghwa’s expression tightened with anger. “Y/n, believe me when I say you are none, and I mean absolutely none, of those things. You are strong, kind, and worthy of love. Don’t believe those lies. Please.”

You just shook your head. “I can’t accept your kind pity, though, Hwa.” Tears welled and clouded your vision as you continued. “She said I should be grateful that anyone tolerates me at all, that I’m lucky to have friends because I don’t deserve them…that I’m not good enough for anyone out there.”

His eyes softened with empathy. “Y/n, you’re more than good enough. You’re fucking incredible, and I…I care about you deeply.”

Your eyes widened at his choice of words, confusion and hope written all over your face. “Why, Hwa? Why would you care about someone like me?”

He sighed, setting aside the cloth, and cupped your face with his hands. “Because you’re not just someone, Y/n. You’re a remarkable person. Your strength, your kindness — it shines through even in your darkest moments. And…” He chuckled slightly. “I like you. More than just as a friend.”

A gasp caught in your throat, and time became still within the room as his confession hung in the air. Seonghwa’s eyes searched yours for a response, but you remained silent, the weight of his words sinking in. 

A spark of worry flickered across his face. “I-I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said —”

You placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “No, Hwa. I’m honestly really glad you did. I just…I need a moment to process everything. It’s a lot, but I really appreciate your courage to tell me that.”

His shoulders relaxed, a relieved smile breaking through. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

He resumed cleaning your cuts, all the while as you couldn’t shake the startling but exciting realization that maybe, just maybe, someone as wonderful as Hwa could see past these insecurities, could see you for you.

An almost eerie silence hung between you two, broken only by the sound of running water as you rinsed off spots of leftover blood. Hwa glanced at you, debating whether or not to break the ice.

“To be honest,” you admitted in a voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t know if I’ve ever felt good enough for someone like you.”

He scoffed lightly, covering your hand with his. “Y/n, you’re more than enough. You’re perfect just the way you are.” 

His words lingered in the air, a poignant moment of vulnerability shared in the dimly lit bathroom.

And then something shifted.

With a playful smirk, you couldn’t help but bring up your insecurities, caught in a suddenly desperate vying to test the waters and see how he would take it. “Come on, don’t be silly, Hwa. I mean, look at me!” You raised an eyebrow at him, the hint of a smile teasing at your lips.

He took the bait. “Okay, and? What about it?”

Now it was your turn to scoff. “You gotta be kidding. I mean, for starters, I’m not even skinny, my face is rounder than the boba in that milk tea you were swirling around the other day” — he broke into a fit of laughter at this, prompting you to punch him gently on the arm (“Hwa, I’m being serious!”) before resuming your, he thought, rather dramatic speech — “and my body is far from what’s considered attractive these days.” You sighed, clenching and unclenching your fists before inspecting yourself through the bathroom mirror. “Especially with these…” You gestured vaguely to your rounded backside and thick thighs.

Hwa’s low, throaty chuckle reverberated in the bathroom, his eyes never leaving yours. “Y/n, you really think any of that matters to me?” He shook his head, his gaze intense. “You’re focusing on things that turn me on more than you could possibly know.”

To say you were surprised — curious, even — was an understatement. “W-what do you mean?” you dared to ask.

He leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Your curves, the roundness of your face, that body you seem to underestimate so much — they’re all things I fantasize about more when I’m around you.” His words sent a thrill down your spine, and you felt a warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach.

“But why?” you managed to stutter out, genuinely baffled.

Hwa pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning you up and down. “Because, Y/n, it’s those very things that make you uniquely you. There’s…an allure throughout, if I’m being honest…and your body is nothing short of perfection in my eyes.”

He paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And let me tell you,” he continued, snaking his fingers across one of your thighs, massaging it with his thumb, “these parts of you aren’t just attractive. They’re downright irresistible.”

Your breath caught in your throat, desire rushing through your veins as he leaned in again, his fingers tracing patterns that left your skin tingling. “I think about you in ways that would make you blush,” he admitted, his voice a low murmur. “You’re beautiful, Y/n. In every way imaginable.”

With that, he closed the distance between your lips, initiating a kiss that held the weight of his confession. The bathroom seemed to vanish into the distance as Hwa’s lips kept meeting yours in a slow, tantalizing dance, each kiss a revelation of shared desire. His hands, warm and possessive, explored the curves of your body with a deliberate sensuality. Fingers traced the contours of your back, leaving a trail of trickling sensations in their wake. As the kiss deepened, his touch became more fervent, a silent promise of passion yet to unfold.

Your hands found their way into his soft, tousled hair, fingers threading through the strands as you pulled him closer. His tongue prodded your bottom lip playfully until you indulged him, allowing the sensation of his tongue to slide against and around yours, igniting a fervor that sent electrical currents through every nerve ending.

The room seemed to get hotter and hotter, but nothing could have curbed the chill in your spine by this point. Hwa’s touch was both gentle and confident, a melody of desire that crescendoed as his kisses lingered longer and he began sucking your tongue slowly, making you moan ever so softly into his mouth.

Your own hands mirrored his movements, traveling across the edges and ridges of his chest, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart beneath your touch. The bathroom echoed with intertwined breaths and whispered promises.

As the intensity built, you couldn’t help but straddle his lap, your bodies pressing together with an urgency that mirrored the passion between you. Hwa’s lips trailed from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses. Moans continued escaping your lips as you felt his teeth grazing gently down the side of your neck. You clung to him, lost in the intoxication of the moment.

Your heartbeats all but synchronized as his lips found their way to your collarbone, his whispers of passion mingling with your soft gasps. He pulled back slightly, eyes looking deep into yours.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down your spine. He leaned in to place gentle kisses on your earlobe, his breath sending a flutter of anticipation through you. “I want you to feel cherished, desired, and free from any doubt about your body,” he whispered finally, his tone laced with sensual liberation.

His hands, like flames against your skin, caressed the small of your back. The room was filled with the harmony of your shared desire, moans and breaths alike embellishing the melody sounding strong.

As sweat dripped down your foreheads, the intensity reached its peak, and with a shared understanding, you both began to ease out of the fervent exchange. Hwa’s lips lingered on yours for a moment, a final note in the passionate composition.

His arms wrapped around you, nestling you within the sweet scent of his aroma, heaving heavily, slowly, as you both took a moment to catch your breath. You could spot the glimpse of a tender smile dancing on his lips. “See, Y/n, you talk too much,” he teased, his eyes alight with affection.

You chuckled finally, feeling a warmth enveloping you. “Maybe I do,” you agreed, “but I think I like it that way.”

Hwa’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he smirked at you playfully. “Well, you better, because I enjoy every word,” he smiled, leaning in to peck you briefly on the lips.

As you both settled into a cuddle, an air of contentment permeated within your space. Hwa’s fingers traced soothing patterns on your back as he spoke. “You know…I think we should have a date tomorrow. I want to take you out. Just the two of us.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the idea. “A date, huh? Where are we going?”

Hwa’s playful grin widened. “Somewhere nice, but you better promise me you won’t just order a small appetizer. I want you to enjoy the food, Y/n.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Alright, alright. No small appetizers. Got it. But you’ll have to deal with me talking your ear off about how delicious everything is.”

Hwa leaned in, stealing another quick kiss. “I can’t wait. And besides, I enjoy every word, remember?”

The banter continued as you both playfully argued about your plans. Hwa grinned mischievously, glad that you were cutting loose for a change and genuinely enjoying yourself now. “And promise me, no salads as the main course. We’re going for the good stuff if this is a date.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Excuse me? Salads are healthy and delicious.”

He chuckled. “Healthy? Yes. Delicious? Debatable. We’re going for flavor explosions, Y/n, not the world’s best landscape on a plate.”

You countered with a smirk. “Okay, first of all, tabbouleh is to die for. And maybe I like my explosions with a side of greens.”

Hwa pretended to gasp, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. “You’re breaking my heart. And here I thought we had a connection.”

You burst into laughter, eyes watering within seconds. “Oh, we have a connection, alright, but my connection with tasty salads might just outdo it this time.”

He pouted. “Fine, have it your way. But if that’s how it’s gonna be, I’m ordering the biggest, heartiest dish on the menu just to torture you.”

You grinned. “Challenge dutifully accepted. I’ll enjoy my dish while you tackle your food mountain. We’ll see who’s satisfied in the end.”

Hwa leaned in, whispering. “Well, just so you know, if you end up trying a bite of mine, you might never go back to salads again.”

You smirked at him. “We’ll see about that. You can’t deprive me of my greens forever, you know.” You pretended to think hard for a moment. “I know, I’ll revolt! I’ll revolt and you won’t know what’s coming to —”

He pressed his lips against yours in a sudden, actually sweet kiss. When he finally pulled back, he was grinning slyly from ear to ear.

“You were saying?” he teased.

You snorted. “Well, I was going to say that no matter how tempting your ‘food mountain’ may be, my love for salads will endure. Just like my love for you, even if you try to sabotage it with impeccably irresistible dishes.”

He tried and failed to suppress another laugh. “You talk too much.” You grinned in satisfaction.

“Maybe I do, but you love it.”

[pluckyredhead]

(I ALSO have thoughts about last year's Robin Lives! one-shot, and by thoughts I mean a deeply skeptical conspiracy theory that there was ever any real possibility Jason would live back in 1988, but that's also for another ask.)

Please do tell

Okay, so I actually went back and compared the original Batman #428 and the alternate Robin Lives! version they released last year, and I think I've maybe talked myself out of my conspiracy theory, but here you go.

So supposedly, in order to meet printing deadlines, DC had two versions of Batman #428 ready to go: one where Jason lives, and one where he dies. That way they could keep taking calls to the 1900 number and keep the voting open as long as possible without delaying a comic.

For years, this page floated around the internet as proof that there was a version of the comic where Jason lived:

Aside from this page, the only significant difference between the two is this:

Original on the left, alternate on the right. You can see that the layout is the same, the two panels on the bottom are the same, and the staging of the whole middle row of panels is nearly identical, with Dick taking the place of Alfred in the alternate version. They're different enough that I don't think it's clever editing - Jim Aparo really did draw the alternate version.

THAT SAID, there's also this panel, from the page before:

Original on the left, alternate on the right. Obviously Aparo duplicated his own work, possibly with tracing or masking, to edit the coffins, and the lettering comes later so that's easy to change. And honestly the layout of the alternate works better: it's starker and sadder with less clutter.

But it doesn't really make sense. Bruce's second line just kind of hangs there without a conclusion. More to the point, though...why did he invite Commissioner Gordon to Jason's mom's funeral??? "Please come to my son's funeral in your inappropriate red coat" checks out. "Please come to my son's surprise biological mother's funeral in your inappropriate red coat; he will not be attending for Reasons" checks out...less.

When I first read Robin Lives! without having checked back with the original Batman #428, I was like "Holy shit they barely changed this, this is a scam, they never intended to let Jason live." Now, looking at those side-by-side page 16s up there, I do think they had a full version where Jason lived ready to go, at least penciled and inked. So I rescind my claim that it was a scam.

But the thing that's striking about reading them both is that the tone is exactly the same. It's deeply solemn and grieving (interjected with the absolute dipshit Reagan-era buffoonery of Joker becoming the Iranian ambassador, which is completely tonally inappropriate to both versions of the comic). It doesn't read like a near miss; it reads like a death. And the fact that the changes are so minor was probably necessary in order for Aparo to have both versions ready to go in time, but it means that the whole thing is weighted really heavily towards the version we got, the one where Jason died.

So given the Grim 'n' Gritty era in which this was published, the fact that the writer (Jim Starlin) is on record as hating Jason and wanting him gone (it could have been worse; Starlin wanted to do a "ripped from the headlines" story and have him die of AIDS, which I'm positive would have been disrespectful as hell and aged like milk), and little things like the funeral scene making a lot less sense if Jason survived...

I don't think the poll was fake. I think there was the possibility that Jason could have survived. But I think DC was banking pretty heavily on his death.

[chaifootsteps]

*sighs* Hello, Chai, this is Metallica Anon with a bit of a lengthy post. 🤘

It's been a while since you last heard from me. Mainly because I've been busy with life, getting sick with the flu earlier this month, and often times coming onto your Tumblr when the ask box is locked.

Last time you heard from me, I told you I was going to see Metallica live that weekend. I did... twice. I'll make the Metallica gushing brief. Both shows were fantástica and they had different setlists with no repeated songs. They even played "Leper Messiah" on the Friday show... which segways into the main subject of this rant.

Yep, I'm ranting about Viv again. More specifically, I have this issue involving her... *ahem*

Why can't I move on from her and her shows?!

Why am I still thinking about vile woman and her shit-shows? Why am I still reading fanfics and viewing or even commissioning fanart of her shows? Why am I still even dreaming about her shows?! It's like my mind is forever clouded in a thick red smog. I honestly can't fathom how I let myself become a fan of this demon drivel for four years. Granted, I did manage to break away, but the damage has been done. Right now, I'm feeling like Pearl from Steven Universe.

♪ It's over, isn't it? Why can't I move on? ♪

I mentioned this to you before when S1 ended (which I still refuse to watch), but the one thing that Viv did that really detonated the H-bomb inside me was the twist of Vaggie being a former exterminator. I endured a lot of her shit, but somehow this was the final straw for me with Viv. Why? Was it because of its plot-hole laden ridiculousness? Was it because I perceived it as Viv sucking the fandom's dick by implementing fan theories into her show? Was it because it made me foolish that I didn't see this twist coming? I think the answer is all three, though mostly the fandom dick sucking part.

What's sadder is that I've had a similar experience with My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. Hell, it was late 2019 that I officially sent MLP:FIM to the glue factory while checking into the Hazbin Hotel. I guess history really does repeat itself. 😔

I know I've thanked you a lot, Chai, but I still feel the need to thank you for all you do. Frankly, you're the only person I feel comfortable talking to about my issues with Viv, despite the fact that we're likely thousands of miles apart. I'm actually terrified of mentioning anything Hellaverse related to my family or friends. Mainly because they would most likely not understand what I'm talking about, or I might inadvertently turn them into fans. 😬

Wowie-Kazowie, that was a load off of me being hard on myself. It's probably longest ask I ever sent you. Now I shall close this rant with a Metallica reference...

Viv, I dub thee unforgiven. 🖕

Hey, I get it, especially the dreaming part! It's annoying as hell, but you can't just switch off something that meant a lot to you...not when the quality dips or when the creator turns out to be an asshole, not even when it hurts you. The love stays with you forever, like HPV.

That's awesome that you got to see Metallica twice, though! At least the universe threw you that bone to make up for it.