#Recovering from being backstabbed

[kimarisgundam]

I am having the most miserable Chinese New Year 😭. On the evening day 2 my entire family got infected with the flu

(not covid. Just regular flu. Which is also just as bad??? It's covid without the fever, but with dry cough and sneezing 😭)

And to make things worse, today we had a Cyberpunk Red Zoom session planned... and I didn't want to skip it...

In my fever induced confusion, I made exceptionally bad choices 😭??

I chose my Netrunner's elder half brother over the crew again 😭. I KNOW. I said I cut ties with father and Arasaka... but big bro doesn't have anything to do with this 😭

I panicked when his psychosis got triggered 🥲. I can't let my only brother go. I didn't want MaxTac to hunt him down 🥲

My party was yelling at me/my Netrunner to run. Even our DM was hinting I'm making a bad choice...

But I chose to burn all my ram shutting down all the cameras in the building and blocking outside communication so no one can call MaxTac 🥲

Then I ran after my brother trying to stop him 🥲. My stats are horrible. I forgot that without my ram I'm defenceless against an Adam Smasher level NPC 🥲

I told my friends to just let me die. But my friends said that as their characters, no way any of them would leave me 😭

I feel so guilty now??? Omg 😭. This is the first time I heard Exec use the F word (friend) and it's cos I dragged everyone into my family drama 😭

Rockerboy is my Netrunner's bff. He ran after her and got mortally wounded after taking a hit for her 😭

I managed to save and stabilise him, but now my own character is about to become mortally wound cos I overloaded her by forcing her to quickhack without ram 😭

We cut the session short cos our DM has to attend a reunion dinner... but my Body stat isn't high 🥲. I don't think I'll survive the death saves next session 🥲. This is how I die I guess 🥲

[cheeseceli]

You don't tell them you're sick

Pairing: ot8!Ateez × gn!reader (established relationships)

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, headcanons

Request: the reader gets sick or hurt but doesn't want to tell the boys cause they are busy or on tour and don't want them to worry or get sick too.

Warnings: They are idols, mentions of medicine and food, bits of self doubt and reader is injured/sick

A/n: blind by ateez is such a good song fr | daily click

Seonghwa

Honestly, he looks a bit disappointed

He thought you knew him better than that

After all, what did he do to give you the impression that he'd rather not be "bothered" if you ever got injured?

Makes sure to take proper care of you until your complete recover

It doesn't matter if he's preparing for a now comeback

Your well being will always come first to him

"And don't you ever forget, I'm here for you. No matter what. I want to be bothered, so bother me all you want."

Hongjoong

Very similar to Seonghwa

Except he's not necessarily disappointed

He's in denial

Like, there's no way you were sick for almost 2 weeks but didn't tell him because he was on tour

You didn't actually do it

Right?

And he can't believe he didn't notice it before, even if you made sure to hide it

Feels like he failed you a little

Makes sure to check on you all the time, overseas or not

"You know you can tell me all you're going through, right? That's what I'm here for."

Yunho

Low-key doubting himself a bit

Is he that bad of a boyfriend that you thought he wouldn't have the time to take care of you 💔

Or even worse

Did you think he wouldn't want to be there for you?

Wonders what he did to give you that impression

And he is on his way to fix it

While taking care of you!

No way you are escaping him giving you the nurse treatment

Being 100% boyfriend material just in case

"Are you feeling any better? I can go buy any remedy you might want. Or soup! Do you want soup?"

Yeosang

He did think your voice was a bit hoarse when he called you two days before

But it's not until you were sneezing nonstop today is that he caught on

You were sick

And when he asked you about it you dared to deny, even if it was so obvious you were lying

Him being on Japan doesn't mean he can't take care of you?!

Makes sure to order medicines and food to your place

Now there's no denying

"Hey, just letting you know that dinner should be there in less than 20 minutes. I ordered you your favourite :)"

San

He was surprisingly fast at discovering, even if you were trying to hide

Mostly because it's kinda hard to walk around with a sprained ankle

So even though he was tired and wanted nothing more than just sleeping after a tough day at practice

He noticed you were in pain

Don't even try to deny

Suddenly he's all energised, ready to take care of you

And he's demanding answers

Why did you hide it from him? How did you hurt yourself? For how long were you walking around like this?

Will take care of you but will also (affectionately) scold you until your ears fall off

"You should call me right away when something like this happens! You were planning on keeping it a secret or something? Wait what-"

Mingi

Honestly, you should've just told him

"But he's so stressed because of work, I don't wanna worry him"

Well, that did not work

If you had told him from the beginning, he would've probably be less worried

But now, because you said "I fell from the stairs, but I'm okay now" he thinks you're on verge of death

We know you had good intentions

But bro is STRESSING 😭

So please, next time just tell him right away lmao

"For God's sake, Y/n, don't ever do this again. Are you okay, though? For real?"

Wooyoung

Oh wow

This one is feeling like he was backstabbed

Even if you were an oscar winning actor/actress, you would NOT fool this guy

When it comes to you, he knows and noticed everything

So after making you're alright, even with the slight pain, he just keeps eyeing you

Waiting for you to tell him how'd you get hurt

But then you don't

And he's honestly a bit hurt you wouldn't rely on him even when your knees where that bruised

Proceeds to take care of you (and interrogate you), all while hoping you'll be able to understand he's there for you

All the time

"Could you put me as your emergency contact? I want to be there for you if you ever need me."

Jongho

Probably the most understanding out of the boys

He was in the other side of the world, after all

And although he'd go back to you in a heartbeat, he knew why you wouldn't want him to

So he understands your point of view

But damn

You guys called each other a few times

He would've appreciated if you had told him

He could've asked a staff to help you, he could've bought you medicine

If he could at least ask how you were feeling, he'd already feel better

So please, don't hide those things from him

"Are you sure you don't want me to go back home? I know, it's just a bit of a fever, but I don't mind going back. Just say the word."

Masterlist | you'll probably like: their s/o is overworked

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @sheraayasherrecs @queenofdumbfuckery @lezleeferguson-120

Dividers by @saradika-graphics | images 1, 2 and 3

[enha4everr]

the beginner’s session — psh

PAIRING: park sunghoon x reader

GENRE: older brother’s friend, established relationship, fluff, skinship, teasing.

SYNOPSIS: When Jake drags you and Sunghoon to the ice rink, he’s determined to keep an eye on you two. But true to form — a literal walking disaster, he somehow ends up face-first on the frozen surface. As Jake attempts to recover, it’s the quiet moments between you and Sunghoon that make the sparks impossible to ignore.

Jake had one job. Just one.

He was supposed to keep an eye on you and Sunghoon. But, leave it to him to turn the simplest task into a full-on disaster.

The sharp crack of a push-along penguin colliding with the ice, snaps your attention away from the laces of your skates, the blades lightly scraping the frozen surface beneath you.

And there he is — the nation’s natural walking disaster, arms flailing wildly, knees buckling, and his whole body tilted at an angle that absolutely screams this is going to end badly.

Right on cue, a yell of horror bursts from his mouth — dramatic and doomed as he full-body slams into the rink barriers.

He hits the ice with all the grace of a collapsing lawn chair, now sprawled along the edge of the rink, muttering something about a “total backstab from the ice gods.”

You blink. Then sigh.

What was he even thinking? Seriously —who steps onto the ice like that? With zero coordination. No warm-up. No plan. Just blind faith and vibes.

What an idiot.

His left skate twitches—just as traumatised as he is, face twisting into a painfully awkward grimace, like he’s stepped on a Lego, before weakly throwing up a thumbs-up.

Hand clasped over your mouth, you’re stifling a chuckle which earns you a look that’s part betrayal, part plea for help—as if it’s your fault gravity has it out for him today.

“Should’ve stayed off the ice, genius,” you tease, glancing back at Sunghoon, who’s effortlessly executing a perfect spin.

Jake frowns, wobbling as he tries to stand with all the determination of someone who’s clearly lost the battle already.

“Did I ask for your commentary?”

“I’m just doing my job” you say, hands raised in mock defence, watching him trip over his own feet—again.

Jake winces, rubbing his elbow as he tries to sit up, but before he can say anything, Sunghoon glides over effortlessly, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, coming to a smooth stop beside Jake’s sprawled form.

He leans down, offering a hand with a growing grin. “You alright? Or should we call for penguin-shaped medical assistance?”

Jake glares up at him like a wounded animal, dignity scraped raw along with his knees, before taking the offered hand wearily.

“I knew coming here with the two of you was a mistake. One’s an Olympic hopeful, the other’s a traitor.”

Classic Jake, dragging you both here just to have front-row seats to the chaos.

“I’m not a traitor” you remark “Just an honest observer of natural disasters.”

“Disaster? Please. I was being avant-garde.”

“You were being uncoordinated,” Sunghoon laughs whilst brushing ice off Jake’s jacket —a sound so smooth, it almost makes you forget your brother nearly cracked his skull open.

Jake's scowling, clearly defeated but not willing to admit it and you can’t help but grin at the easy dynamic between them — the teasing, the banter, the subtle care beneath it all.

His hands move carefully over the fabric,but his eyes keep drifting to you — bright and shy, like he's memorising every little detail about you.

You feel his gaze on you, warmth creeping up your neck, your eyes now shifting to your skates.

Oh no—your heart skips, and suddenly, you forget how to breathe and when you finally manage to look up, he's still watching you with a quiet amusement dancing in his eyes

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Jake, still half-covered in frost, groans.

“Oh my god,” he mutters. “Can we not flirt over my frozen corpse?”

“That’s rich, coming from someone who thinks sticky notes are a foolproof flirting method.”

Jake’s eyes widen at your words, and for a split second, he forgets all about his bruised pride and the ice that’s still slowly melting into his clothes. He looks absolutely scandalized, like you’ve just announced his darkest secret to the entire rink.

“Sticky notes,” he scoffs, though there's a slight edge of embarrassment creeping into his voice.

“You’re exaggerating. It was a unique method. And highly effective— you're no longer listening about his “unique flirting” techniques.

Instead your eyes are flickering to Sunghoon who’s pretending to be totally absorbed in adjusting his gloves. You catch the way his lips twitch in amusement, and that quick glance he throws your way —confident, a little teasing before he looks away, like he’s fully aware of the effect he has.

Jake’s eyebrow arches sharply as he catches the subtle exchange, his tangent momentarily forgotten.

“What’s with the secret staring contest?” he shoots out, voice half-amused, half-baffled.

You shrug, face still warm “Nothing.”

Jake’s grin widens like he’s just uncovered a treasure trove of scandals. “Uh-huh. Sure. Nothing.”

You can’t help but let out a soft groan, pressing your fingers to your forehead in a half-hearted attempt to shield your growing embarrassment. Jake’s eyes, gleaming with mischief, are practically twinkling now, and there’s no way to talk your way out of this one.

“Seriously, you two are like this close to turning into a rom-com plot,” Jake teases, wiggling his fingers between you and Sunghoon. 

Sunghoon’s laughter is low, warm, and dangerously close to being too perfect for the moment. You almost can’t decide if it's charming or frustrating at this point.

Jake's grin widens as he watches you squirm, clearly enjoying every second of this. He knows exactly what he's doing, and he’s definitely aware of the subtle tension between you and Sunghoon. After all, he’s your older brother—he would catch on.

You roll your eyes, mentally bracing for the inevitable "Jake, I swear—" but he cuts you off.

“Alright, alright, I’ll give it a break. I won’t push it—for now.” He takes a step back, but not without giving you one last look that says he knows.

“Remember, I’m watching you,” Jake says, eyeing you both with a faint smile. “No funny business. Keep it PG.”

And just when you think he's leaving towards the benches, he turns to Sunghoon "I saw that smile. You’re a guilty man.”

Jake’s now somewhere behind you, perched on a bench — possibly muttering about unspeakable betrayals” and “obvious romantic tension,” or possibly inventing new swear words for ice.

The rink feels quieter now, the chaos dimming to a gentle hum of laughter and the soft scrape of blades against ice. You feel it before you hear it—the shift in the air, the presence that’s almost tangible.

When you glance over your shoulder, Sunghoon’s there, trailing behind, with the same smooth ease as always—his movements are as effortless as breathing.

"Still alive?" his voice is brushing against your ear like a secret.

You bite back a smile. “Barely” you mutter. “If I fall, you’re carrying me out.”

His hands immediately find yours — warm, firm, steady through your gloves. The contact is electric, yet somehow grounding, sending a flutter through you as his fingers curl around yours, guiding, steadying. 

Your heart's stuttering again but he doesn't rush, doesn't grip too hard— just gentle and there’s an undeniable certainty in it.

“You’re bending your knees too much” he corrects softly.

“I’m trying not to faceplant.”

“You won’t.” His hands slide from your fingers to your wrists, curling around them like he’s anchoring you. “You’ve got me.”

Your breath catches, and a flush rises in your cheeks. The rink blurs, but his presence is sharp, a steady pulse beneath your skin.

“Real smooth,” you whisper, tilting your head back to catch his profile — the curve of his jaw, and that illegal dimple smiling at you.

"I try" his voice softens, chin brushing against your shoulder — the contact lingering just enough to make your skin prickle.

“So, this is a lesson?”

He breathes out a small chuckle “Mm. A very hands-on one.”

“You just wanted an excuse to touch me,” you tease, trying to sound casual, but failing.

He shrugs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Guilty.”

“Jake’s gonna murder you.”

“Jake can barely walk.” he mumbles, fingers tracing light, teasing patterns over your sleeves.

You roll your eyes, but a smile betrays you. "You're impossible."

"And that's why you like me."

You glance at Jake who's on the bench, shooting daggers at both of you. Sunghoon leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Just wait till we leave," he whispers. "I’ve got more lessons for you."

Jake mouths from behind the glass "Can you two not?" as he dramatically mimes a gag."

Sunghoon flashes you a sly smile "Let’s go before he faints from secondhand embarrassment."

And with that, he's leading you effortlessly — the rink, the chaos, and everything else fades leaving only that warm feeling of his hand in yours.

⊹ enha4everr’s note ⊹ ahhh i’ve finally finished my exams :) i’m really excited to share this fic with y’all. happy reading <3 hehe sulky jake and charming hoon. i know this piece isn't perfect but it's all about growth! i hope to bring more fics for y’all ;)

just a reminder that this piece of writing is from my imagination and does not represent the names mentioned.

taglist: for @chuuyaobsessed

[drops-of-moonlights]

going out of order here but when have we ever done things orderly in this blog. The Dark Kingdom! With a whole-ass extra group of girls! because me! info below

We start of course with "Queen Beryl", which is nothing more than Metallia donning a humanoid form to command her generals, finding it easier to control them herself than risking the real Beryl reincarnation fucking it up by remembering that she had used her. She's the only member of the Dark Kingdom that DIES dies, everyone else reincarnates after all is over (same way the core cast does) and recover their memories between the Makai Tree and Black Moon arcs, a mini arc of their own based on the PC Engine visual novel THAT I NEED TO PLAY I HAVE IT DOWNLOADED I'VE JUST FOCUSED ON OTHER STUFF LOL.

The Shitennou! and the... Shitenjou? I am old school and Four Heavenly Kings is a fucking mouthful, so in the AU they're just the Dark Kingdom Generals. Like the Senshi, they all have to transform into their General form first to access their powers. Mio loses access to her Morganite persona in her second chance, unlocking the full power of Sailor Earth instead. They all also have different colors compared to their canon looks - I used the colors of the real corresponding gems for each.

Morganite/Mio is the youngest of the Generals and the real reincarnation of Beryl. I don't need to go over her y'all know her she's Sailor Earth girl has like 7 posts about her alone already lmao. Her focus is gathering energy, but she goes more for places where people already gather more than more planned stuff.

Jadeite/Hayato is 17, second youngest of the Generals, impulsive and hotheaded. His focus is on gathering energy, favoring groups of people focused on something in particular for his purpose and working with a single Youma on it. He has power over wind.

Azurite/Kanami is 20, flighty but maintaining a sense of elegance, theatric. Her focus is gathering energy in groups, but she uses a team of 3 Youma for her tasks and usually keeps her distance from the plan. She has power over water. She is based on the OG anime Youma Thetis, who was frankly too cool to just be a Youma lol.

Nephrite/Masato is 19, dramatic and theatric to a greater degree than Azurite, with a fondness for astrology. Said fondess is his primary tool on his focus - finding the Silver Crystal, using the trajectory of the stars to select locations where it might be and place a team of Youma to investigate. He has power over light.

Fluorite/Sayaka is 19, focused and no-nonsense, which puts her at massive odds compared to the dramafest that is literally everyone else. Being her is suffering. She's somehow Nephrite's bestie despite this. Her focus is also finding the Silver Crystal, but unlike Nephrite she scouts out locations herself assisted by a single Youma. She has power over electricity. She is partially based on Codename Sailor V's Fluorite, just butch and more involved.

Zoisite/Anji is the gay backstabbing twink we all know and love, the only difference is that he doesn't actually kill any of the other generals he just steals credit and targets lmao. He's 22, and is in charge of strenghtening Youma, but as it doesn't take much of his time he likes to crash on everyone else's duties to be annoying. He has power over flowers.

Kunzite/Shinkou, 25, is still in homosexuals with Zoisite, very much in love, they can be disgusting when together the man loves his man. Away from his bf however he's just as no-nonsense as Fluorite and constantly has to scold the other Generals to focus more on their tasks. His focus is on finding Princess Serenity's reincarnation and deal with her as soon as possible, knowing of the risk she poses to the Dark Kingdom but having a vague memory of something horrific related to her. He has power over ice.

Albite/Yorine, 30, is the oldest of the Generals and the most dedicated to Metallia - knowing the truth behind her identity. She is quiet and stoic, but goes with the flow of everyone else's antics with incredible ease. She's the only full OC in the lineup, and her focus is creating parasite Youmas - Youmas that can take over a living host and form a body from it. She has power over fire.

You also get to see the civilian/untransformed form! For 6 of them at least Albite doesn't change eye or hair color and y'all know Mio's gonna be part of a different lineup.

NOW FOR MY FAVORITE THING, NAMES.

Jadeite is Shiokawa Hayato - Shiokawa roughly means "salt river", while Hayato is in hiragana and so can have multiple meanings.

Nephrite is Sanjouin Masato - just fully lifting his OG anime alias, I take what I'm given lmao. I did get to find out what his name means! Sanjouin would roughly be "Temple of 3 Items", Masato is "holy man".

Azurite is Kakihara Kanami - Kakihara would mean "oyster source", Kanami is "melody/performance of the sea"

Zoisite is Ozawa Anji - Ozawa means "small swamp", Anji means "compassionate apricot". Anji is also an unisex name, which I feel goes with Zoisite's femme vibe.

Kunzite is Inokuma Shinkou - Inokuma has the kanji for both boar and bear because subtlety is dead for me, Shinkou means "dawn light". Shinkou goes by the nickname "Shin", matching with his PGSM incarnation before he awakened his memories.

Fluorite is Haibara Sayaka - Haibara means "hazelnut tree source", Sayaka is in hiragana because I simply liked the name for her lol.

lastly, Albite is Iwamoto Yorine - Iwamoto means "real rock", fitting for the rock guys, while Yorine is a more classical/older name, meaning "sound of an era".

After the Dark Kingdom arc, they all return to a normal life and become casual friends with the Senshi (and closer friends to Mamoru and Mio), and keeping their powers, they help out the Senshi when they have to take care of bigger stuff.

[derww]

DEVOTIONS WEEK DAY 4: ANIMALS/OBJECTS

Okay, the thing is: Zam goes to the Kings SMP, spends several weeks in a bloody meat grinder, fights back to back with Minute and Mapicc and Jepexx against the world and somewhere in the process realizes herself to be a girl.

It's not bad: she swaps her crown for an elegant tiara, and her pretty kitty princess blade hits exactly on target and holds in her hand like a glove, and the dress turns out to be much more comfortable than an almost formal suit.

She spends the rest of the season so at ease with herself – even after losing her magic blade, she does not return to her former self, but rushes around the server, ready to destroy anything, and, in the end, reunited with the blade, counts it as her happy ending.

And then it's time to return to the Lifesteal, and she lowkey expects that her dress, like in the Cinderella, will turn into rags, but she, Minute, Mapicc and Jepexx activate the teleport, and Minute holds her gloved hand, making sure of a safe landing, and they appear on a flying an island in the center of the spawn, and... Nothing changes. Even her pretty blade, despite everything, remains hanging on her belt.

For a moment, while everyone is still recovering and looking around, she just stares into the sky, and then, experimentally, lightly stabs Minute into the side. He curses and lets go of her hand, and a cat falls at their feet with a long meeeeeow. She looks at it, running around and scratching Minute's feet, with mild amusement.

Oh. Oooh. Okay!

In the end, it is kinda nice: everyone, as it happens usually on the Lifesteal, just roll with it and she changes her dress for the black one with purple accents, and cats help her push players into the void, and in return she makes them a corner in the skull base and feeds them with fish washed up by the waves. Pangi is being heavily liked by one of them for some reason. He names him Cheeseburger.

(For some reason, cats don't like Jumper. She wonders if it's because of their experience on Kings)

Cat ears make her much more sensitive and observant, allowing her to detect enemies and hide from them just as successfully, and also – to lie at night on an icy bedrock and listen to the measured whisper of the Abyss. Sometimes Mapicc joins her, but he doesn't quite hear it, and she describes it to him.

It simultaneously changes everything significantly and really does not. Her dress is elegant but shorter than she would like, and she doesn't wear heels, and her scar – her pride – is not going anywhere, and she still kills people and herself, but everything seems to be half a tone better than it was.

Mapicc grumbles about the need to retrain for her movements changed under the new center of gravity, and also about her too–long hair getting in the way, and she eventually ties it into a high ponytail and it instantly shuts him up. They fit her blade into their normal formations – backstabs do great damage, and cats push and interfere with enemies, and they are forcing opponents to always think about one more thing.

One day she makes a mistake and falls into the void and dies, and it's hard, but she accepts it because she knows that one day it was bound happen. The Abyss demands all kinds of sacrifices, she tells herself, and I must always be ready to give her everything, including myself. Bacon gifts her an elegant rapier crowned with stars, and she continues to live because it was not the blade that defined her.

But one day, in the dead of night, walking through the void, with bare feet on the great nothingness, listening to the eternal whisper of absolute knowledge and dancing under the new moon, the Abyss speaks to her. And it's not like She's never talked to her before, but this is the first time she's been alone.

My child, the Abyss whispers, overwhelming her with an invisible pressure, I have something that belongs to you by the right.

As if enchanted, she pulls her hand forward, and intently, and slowly, as if with effort, squeezes her fingers until she feels the icy metal of the handle, and nothingness separates the blade from the ink.

This is her blade, absolutely it is, but it is darker, almost completely black, and only rare gaps in the folds reveal the familiar deep blue.

She smiles.

"Thank you, lady," she says from the bottom of her heart, and the tension around her evaporates with a dry click.

[takusan-no-ai]

Moi aussi, je t'aime

PAIRING: Navia x Male Reader (Romantic) (Angst)

SUMMARY: (Y/N), eldest son and future chief of L'ombre Masqué, has known Navia since childhood. Though after a falling out that lasted years, a reunion quickly becomes less than pleasant for both parties when a proposal is made.

Spina di Rosula and L’ombre Masqué weren’t always on bad terms. Both used to be the pioneers of Fontaine, but such a time has been long forgotten. Navia wasn’t a stranger to the strife that plagued the relations between the two.

During her childhood, there was one such man that she’d never forget, Adélard, her father and mother’s business partner. He was always there for expanding business opportunities, claiming territory, and advancing the congregation of both groups. That all went downhill when Callas didn’t want to cut the living expenses for his workers.

Adélard tried to convince him they were a waste of money, and Callas had none of it. Navia bore witness to the argument, as did a certain boy; Adélard’s son and future heir, (Y/N). He wasn’t as crude as his father, not by a long shot, but Callas worried he might grow to be with such a bad environment, to then influence Navia and the other youth, so he forbid Adélard from visiting ever again.

“And Since then L’ombre Masqué has been Fontaines most morally bankrupt and greedy organization since. Their members families starve while they eat on a diamond platter. Their system’s hierarchy encouraging backstabbing, trickery, and corruption. All we can do is hope that one day they mend their ways.” Navia spoke to the gathered children.

Since the flooding of Poisson, the Spina di Rosula has been hard at work to fix everything, alas, such a goal has high expenses and requires extensive man power; something Poisson was currently lacking, especially after the deaths of Melus and Silver.

“Are they all bad, Navia?” One little girl asked. All the other children zeroed in, awaiting her answer.

“No…,”–she froze for just a moment, only to then smile,–“They’re not all bad. Some still have their morals. And with L’ombre Masqué’s current leader being quite old, they’ll have to pick a new one soon.” The children nodded in understanding and all got up to play outside.

Navia sunk back onto the stool she had been sitting on, visibly tired from the hard work she’d been busy with. The break didn’t last long however, as many members of Spina di Rosula came rushing towards her. Navia shot up, trying to calm the crowd.

“Relax, please, everyone. Now tell me, what happened?” She asked calmly.

“Boss, it’s horrible! L’ombre Masqué members have lined up outside Poisson!” One man said. Navia’s blood ran cold.

“And that’s not all! Adélard, that old slimy bastard, is here!” One woman said. Navia began to sweat, the creases of her brows tight.

“Please…tell me you’re mistaken. What. Is. Going. On.” Her voice wavered, and the others could easily sense her dread. At that realization, Navia tried to quickly calm herself. She forced herself to stand tall, and braved forward towards the exit of Poisson. That was when she came face to face with him. Adélard.

“Navia…,” he said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. He was old and frail, likely hitting almost eighty; he was already old to begin with when Navia was little. Seeing him now made her freeze in place.

“It’s really been that long.” She replied. She speedily recovered and forced on a smile. “Adélard, it’s been so long since you’ve last visited. I assume it must be something of great importance for you to show up here?” She asked.

Adélard smiled, it reached his ears, “I’m dying.” Navia and the rest of Spina di Rosula that followed her gasped. “And I have a request to make. Especially without that Callas around…,” he said, the last part being mumbled; though Navia heard it clear as day and didn’t hide her anger.

“And what do YOU want from me, the esteemed president, leader, commander-in-chief, executive director, and Boss of Spina di Rosula.” She boasted.

“You need help rebuilding Poisson, and I need for L’ombre Masqué to live on–”

“Hold it. I’m sure you’re still aware, despite your age, what caused the rift between Spina and L’ombre?”

“Yes. And my son, (Y/N), whom I’m sure you remember, intends to change things for the better.” He said bitterly. “However, he hasn’t and doesn’t seem intent on finding love. I want my bloodline to continue, and for my grandchildren to be the future leaders of L’ombre Masqué.”

Navia didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“L’ombre Masqué is very blessed with mora. We’re willing to give Poisson a restoration fund of one billion mora. Of course that is subject to increase. All you have to do Miss. Navia, is marry my son.”

A crowd was forming outside of Poisson, and everyone heard his proclamation. Everyone began whispering amongst themselves. Some agreed that it could help them, but ultimately, they all believed it wouldn’t be fair to Navia; she’d find a way to help them herself, and she believed this too.

“No.” Was all she said. And then she walked away, from Poisson, from Spina di Rosula, everything. She needed a breather after that. Her members understood and left her to her own devices.

“I’d think it over if I were you! The offer still stands till my death!” Adélard shouted. Navia wanted to scream back at him. But she couldn’t, not when she had a reputation to uphold.

She walked all the way to Café Lutece, where she had a small cup of tea and some macaroons to cheer herself up. “I can’t just ignore that much money, we really are in the red. And I don’t want the others to suffer any longer. But I can’t give up my dignity.” She huffed out in frustration.

“He just had to make that announcement in front of everyone! Now there’ll be talk, whether they intend to pressure me one way or not.” She slumped back down in her chair. From her peripheral vision she saw a young man walk over and ask if he’d seen a woman with a description eerily similar to her own.

“Excuse me sir? Are you looking for…,” Navia had been in the process of asking the man if he was looking for her, but she quieted as he turned around.

(Y/N).

Even though it had been years. She recognized him immediately. And so did he.

“Navia! Listen. My father is going to ask you this really inappropriate request and I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to–”

“It’s okay. I’ve already dealt with it.” She said. (Y/N) sighed in relief, clutching his heart with one hand and wiping off his sweat with the other.

“I was so worried. I didn’t want you to think I signed off on it.” Navia raised her eyebrow.

“Why is that? We haven’t talked in years, surely my opinion can’t mean that much to you.”

(Y/N) stayed silent and rubbed the back of his neck. “Haha…yeah. Well, you’re the boss of Spina di Rosula. Being on your bad side isn’t exactly good.”

Navia lightly punched him on the arm, “Why are you acting all nervous with me? Let’s catch up some. I’ve got a lot to tell you about.”

That was the start of it, meeting up almost everyday. Learning new things about each other. And helping each other. A bond was naturally formed between the two. Of course, (Y/N) still had to care for his father and L’ombre Masqué, so helping Spina di Rosula wasn’t easy to fit into his daily schedule.

His lack of presence on one side, and constant presence on the other caused a strife between both inner groups. Jealousy, pride, and fear were at play. This led to animosity, and that animosity led to violence. Destruction, ambushes, vandalism. Both sides were out of control from seemingly nowhere. And the road appeared endless.

One more night. That was supposed to be the last day they meet up. Navia and (Y/N) met at a riverbank, both wearing bittersweet faces. The moon hang high, and the clouds were thick in the star-filled sky. The two stood next to each other, closer than friends were supposed to.

Navia shivered from the cold air, catching (Y/N)’s breath. He quickly drooped his jacket over her shoulders and hugged closer to her. Navia made no objections.

“My father died today. The doctors said it was a peaceful death.” He said it with such ease, as if it were an everyday thing to mention. Navia looked at his face, noticing the smile he had seemed…off. As if it were a smile of not many, but just one emotion; relief.

“You, seem fine with it.” Navia commented. (Y/N) stopped smiling and looked up at the moon. It reflected off his eyes beautifully, and Navia was getting lost in them. She softly grasped her beating heart.

“Things will only get worse from here on out. Our clans won’t be able to trust each other; not anytime soon at least. It’ll take even more years to fix the strife between us. If it’ll be fixed at all.” He lamented.

“You’re talking as if it can’t be.” Navia was growing nervous, anxious, and confused.

“It’s dead. My father was the last thing keeping it all together. They don’t respect me, not enough to work together with Spina di Rosula. So yes, it’s dead: us, Spina di Rosula, L’ombre Masqué.” Navia grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing (Y/N) to look at her.

“You can’t do that! I won’t allow it! I’ll follow through with the marriage contract if I need to!”–she started to break out into tears, her voice getting caught in her throat–“You can’t leave me! Not now! Not when I love you!”

(Y/N) cupped Navia’s face and leaned forward,

“I love…Spina di Rosula. And I’ll protect it, Poisson, and you forever. But not here.”

“Why can’t you say it?” She asked, still crying.

“Because if I do, I might not be able to let you go.”

“Please. Say it. Say it, or else I’ll wait until I get an answer.”

He kissed her, short and to the point. There might as well have not been a kiss at all. “L’ombre Masqué is leaving Fontaine tomorrow and heading to Liyue. I want you to see me off. I promise…to be an honest man tomorrow.”

Navia nodded and walked off. Before she got too far away however, she turned around and looked at (Y/N). “I’ll never regret falling in love with you.” She went to Poisson and, surprisingly to herself, slept deeply.

The next morning, it was time to see (Y/N) off. Him and all of L’ombre Masqué were already on their respective boats, prepared for the long journey east to Liyue.

Navia was the only Poisson member to see him off. Or so she thought. (Y/N)’s shocked face from his boat caused her to turn around. Behind Navia were countless residents of Poisson, members of Spina di Rosula, and so forth there; even the children she read to days ago had shown up.

“Why are you all…?” She asked in bewilderment.

“Despite our differences with L’ombre Masqué, we know how much a certain member, leader specifically, means to you.” One member said.

“We didn’t want you to feel alone today Miss. Navia!” The kids said in unison. Navia fought back tears as she smiled brightly. She turned back around and waved goodbye to (Y/N) as his crew was ready to leave.

(Y/N) cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Moi aussi, je t'aime!”, tears welling from his eyes.

Navia ran to the edge of the road, as far as she could, and shouted back, “Je t'attendrai!”

They both smiled and waved at each other. Once the strife that lingers is over, they will be reunited. That hope kept them together, no matter how far apart.

Besides, (Y/N) never said anything about Navia visiting.

- Fin

[scr11bles]

Could I please get a RED Spy x Female BLU Medic Reader frappuccino with a side of cheesecake, and some shortbread and chocolate chip cookies? Could I also place an order for something you don't seem to have in stock?

(What I’d like is for this to take place during the robot wars. Reader was trying to help everyone regardless of what team they were on originally but Spy keeps pushing her away because their relationship was very antagonistic back when RED and BLU were fighting. But something happens and Reader goes MIA forcing Spy to admit that he actually loves her. Reader comes back just in time to hear him confess. Feel free to ignore this if it's too much. 😙)

order up for @faal-verotiik ! wanna order something for yourself? here's the menu!

- frappuccino: "Can we skip the fight this time, please?" + cheesecake: enemies to lovers + shortbread cookie: angst + chocolate chip cookie: fluff

a/n: i love this request so much! also this is a perfect representation for what i thought out of stock requests to be described as, thank you so much :3

word count: 1,432

cw: little bits of angst and fluff

----------๑♡⁠๑------------

Spy wasn't known for feelings; at least sentimental ones. None of the mercs were, but you just had to be different. In the very beginning, Spy didn't give two shits about you, simply thinking of you as the Blu Medic's foolish apprentice and would merely go on to take his chance whenever he had the opportunity to backstab you. Something that did intrigue him ever so slightly was how you would react to him when and after he killed you.

You weren't like the others. You sometimes stood there and let it happen, usually not putting up a fight and just accepting your fate of being caught of guard. Even weirder? You weren't sour after it after. Sure, he would find you with a small frown on your face coming back from the respawn room, but you weren't out for his blood for the rest of the match like the rest of your Blu teammates were whenever they got backstabbed by him.

"You must be a stupid little thing, mon chaton. This business isn't for the passive."

The Frenchman had you in a sharp chokehold during a specific match, growling into your ear with his silky smooth voice as he holds his butterfly knife to your back, just above where your heart rests. Without getting a word in he thrusts his knife into your back, grimacing as your blood gets on his suit and blends in with the red of the fabric. Spy lets your lifeless body go and watches it crumple to the ground, frowning as he turns to start walking and cloaks himself. That should get you mad, a little rough teasing would make any human turn sour. He just knows it.

And his method worked, you were mad, falling for his little trap and dying to him a couple more times during that match from your rage-clouded vision. Though, it wore off quicker than he's seen in your team members, and even his own. Spy would be lying if he said he wasn't interested, and dare he say it, a little impressed at how easily you can recover from provocation. His little hatred-like infatuation lasted for long, and it still has, though its digressed now, and the fact that he's been working along side you has honestly made it worse.

The unlikely partnership of the Red and Blue team's when the machines came to attack was already on thin ice, but in all honesty, Spy didn't care all that much. Sure, it irked him that he had to ally with the same miserable bastards that he's been killing for years, but he got through it with his usual poise and class. Though, that tranquil mindset was destroyed when he kept running into you in the field during a fight, internally cursing you when you would run to his aid and heal him with your medigun and sweet words.

"You have better things to do, stop playing nurse and actually fight like the rest of us."

Spy would hiss those words at you when you even tried to get close to him to heal him, metaphorically (and sometimes literally) pushing you away from him. Even with Spy's brash behavior, you still stayed close, giving him extra care than the other mercs that you took care of on the field. Spy hated it; and after a particularly grueling fight against the machines, you rush to his side when you see he has a solid bullet wound shot through his shoulder. You bring your medigun up to fix the wound but stumble back as Spy slaps away the machinery, the sound of it clattering to the floor making you flinch.

"Chose inutile. When will you learn to get away from me? I don't need your damned help."

Even after Spy had said those words he knew that was wrong, his integrity crumbling inside of him as he registers what he had said. The Frenchman watched with sharply narrowed eyes as you retreated back a few steps, looking at him like he was a monster sent from hell. And maybe at that point to you, he was.

You walk off without a word, simply picking up your medigun and not looking back as you walk away to tend to the other members of the team. Good riddance- is what Spy wanted to say, but he'd be damned if he would admit to feeling just a little bit guilty about yelling at you and acting so rudely.

Spy's feelings only started to increasingly become worse for the next few battles due to you not even looking at him, or him not even seeing you once on the battle field. It made him angry, the way you avoided him. Sure, it was hypocritical but he missed you. Badly.

It all went to shit immediately, the waves of robots wouldn't stop coming, and everyone on the field was in a frenzy to stay alive, the Frenchman included. Spy ducked and covered behind a dilapidated wall of a building that had been blown to hell, turning his cloaking on and running out into the field to get a vantage point on the enemy. When he got to a high enough spot, Spy overlooked the battlefield, gauging where each of his teammates were and where the numerous numbers of enemies were coming from.

From the vantage spot, Spy saw you- for the first time in days, he saw you. Spy couldn't believe the way his heart skipped a beat, making him take a double take and look back at you, watching with bated breath as you fought off a machine variant of yourself to get to the Red Heavy as he was being onslaught with gunfire. Spy could only watch in a state of shock as a bullet ripped through your shoulder, your blood painting the ground of the battlefield. Without even realizing it, Spy started to make his way back down from his high ground to run and help you, but when he gets back to the ground all he sees is a trail of blood leading around the corner.

Spy follows the trail, a large explosion racking the nearby building and causing large pieces of scrap metal and concrete to fly through the air. As Spy turns the corner all he's faced with is rubble, your medigun broken and dented on the floor next to the smoldering rubble.

The trail of blood ran under the rubble.. Your trail of blood. That means-

"Merde! No- No!"

Spy sprints to the rubble, sliding to his knees and starting to haphazardly dig into the rubble, shifting away a large piece with all of his strength. After shifting a large piece Spy's breath hitches in his throat as he sees a piece of ruined fabric sticking up from under the cement and ash. Spy grabs the fabric, tugging it up at feeling a sour taste fill his mouth. It's your coat, your class insignia sewn into the sleeve reddened with blood.

"No- Mon chaton! S'il te plaît! Please!

Spy grips the fabric and tugs it close to his chest, cursing to himself as he feels tears prick the corners of his eyes. How pathetic, crying over the girl he hated and pushed away.

"Je suis désolé. Je suis vraiment désolé. I-I-"

Spy chokes on his words, letting his tears drip onto the tattered scraps of your coat.

"Spy..?"

The Frenchman freezes, furrowing his eyebrows and whipping around to follow the sound of.. Your voice? There you were, without your coat, leaving you with just your undershirt and a crude bandaged wrapped around your shoulder.

"Spy what're you- Wait are you cryi-"

Your sentence doesn't even get past your lips as your wrapped into a tight hug by Spy, the Frenchman squeezing you for all you're worth. Spy pulls back from the brisk hug, keeping his hands resting on your waist as he looks down at you.

"Mon ange, I'm so sorry. What I said- it wasn't right."

Spy's grip on your waist tightens, almost afraid of you disappearing in front of him despite his hold. You thrash against his grip when you come to your senses, frowning and taking a step back from him while giving him the sharpest glare possible,

"Let's skip the fight this time, s'il te plaît."

Spy gives you the sorriest look he can muster, and damn if you couldn't resist when he gives you a look like that. With a sigh you walk back towards the man, slowly bringing your hand up and placing it on Spy's chest, his racing heartbeat thumping against your palm. You smile up at Spy, the sight after so long of not seeing it making his heart feel as if it was going to explode.

"You'll forgive me, won't you?"

Spy brings his hand up to cup your cheek, his gloved thumb brushing against you bottom lip before he pulls you in for a sweet kiss, the connection of your lips akin to electricity. How could you say no when he says it so sweetly?

----------๑♡⁠๑------------

uhh here it is i hope you like it!! i struggled so hard with this request but i think its okay in the end (plus it was good practice)!!

[autismbeamattack]

Unfinished small fic of Murderbot and ART getting jumpscared and then fighting about it

...

I will reorganize, of course, ART said.

"Like hell you will."

It is only logical that-

"Fuck you and your logic."

...

So, I was pissed. If you couldn't tell.

I got annoyed with ART over minor differences of opinion about media all the time, that was nothing new. Sometimes it was even fun, like pointing out all the ways ART was wrong about Sunny's motivations for botching their own self-sacrifice ritual to their cult's fauna deity in The Yester-years of the Blood Collective, a new comedy-horror serial we were trying out. ART was convinced that Sunny subconsciously messed up the ritual even though it was pretty obvious it was a pro-conscious decision (I'm not looking up if that's a real word, you get what I mean) as a plot to push their younger sibling to the top of the cult hierarchy for promotion. It was clearly a set up, but try telling ART that.

Gore horror wasn't usually my thing, and it definitely was not ART's thing, but the ways the humans kept dying were so unrealistic and bad that it was almost funny. Also they never stayed dead because of the aforementioned fauna deity resurrecting them all constantly. The "deaths" just looked like how juvenile humans liked to play dead sometimes, with overdramatic groans and sticking their tongues out to indicate they were "dead for real this time." It was a decently safe show, despite the horror tags.

I'm going to be the more mature person here and admit that maybe, despite it being "decently safe, for horror," we were both a little on edge from all the killing and blood and stuff going on. Even if it was hilariously bad. After twelve episodes of near constant stabbing and backstabbing and back-backstabbing, all of which I mean literally by the way, it was feeling less fun and more irritating. But I wanted to know if Sunny reconciled with their younger sibling after their pro-conscious plot was found out (I knew it), so I kept watching. Maybe that was the first mistake, because ART was taking in my reactions too through my filters, and I had been too invested to really detangle all those irritated emotions from real life and the show. (Hey, I'm admitting it now, okay? Progress.)

So ART was also a little irritated and on edge about the blood, probably on top of its uneasiness about the violence that it could generate on its own without the help of my filters, when the show's first and untagged jumpscare triggered an extremely embarrassing adrenaline dump in my organics. That ART also got to experience via me.

I had a brief millisecond to feel this already unpleasant experience on my own before my brain was flattened by ART's reaction to my reaction. Way too much of its presence instantly flooded into the feed and I was distantly aware of feeling like all the air was forced out of my body. I heard a 'thunk' as I tipped over and my head hit the wall next to my bunk.

ART shut down the show 0.17 seconds into the jumpscare. After a second to recover my processes, I shoved the show back into our shared feed only for ART to bat it down in 0.3 seconds. It could been faster than that, enough that from my perspective it would look like nothing had shown up at all, but it wanted me to see that it was batting it away and how annoyed it was about it. That was enough to piss me off way more than it should have.

"Just play the damn show," I said out loud, mostly to force my lung to work properly again.

"No," ART also said out loud through its speakers, because it was an asshole.

I switched to the feed. ART.

SecUnit, it mimicked in the same tone.

That did it. Maybe it was all the adrenaline that had decided to flood my systems that I was still in the process of purging, but I felt like fighting.

[thunder-opossum]

Oh, here's a thought for you:

I know someone had the idea of Sizzle's sis surviving, I think you agreed her name would be Raincloud (?), and I wanna build onto it too.

Arti is still violent, but now she has the power of teamwork. Raincloud learns to be aggressive as well. Arti treats her daughter like an actual slugcat and not just a helpless pup. Raincloud adores her mother's affection, but is also blind to her abuse. Arti is still an abusive parent, but less so to Rain (she shouts and scolds a lot but has yet to hit her). Why does this matter?

Because after Raincloud learns Sizzle is alive, she doesn't tell Artificer just yet.

Arti instead finds Sizzle and Kelp and excitedly calls Raincloud over. Raincloud doesn't say anything about finding him before, and Sizzle is more accepting of Arti because Rain is there too.

Flash forwards to about Chimney, Sizzle has gotten used to bearing the brunt of both his mother and sister's anger (she was taught it was right to do such). At least he has Kelp.

And then *that* happened. This time, Arti framed it a little better by tossing Raincloud into danger too, so it seemed like Kelp died saving Rain. Arti informed Rain of this plan and she accepted, but she very nearly died because of it. (First moment she thinks mom might not be so good for suggesting this)

When the trio reach Pebbles, he tells Sizzle and Raincloud the exact aftermath of the toll incident for both of them (Sizz being pulled out by garbage worms and adopted, Rain being knocked out and eventually recovered by Arti). Then he also tells Sizzle about Kelp, to which Raincloud nonchalantly replies about how she knew Arti was responsible, and Sizzle is upset and runs away from her.

Cut to Metropolis, and they're in the shelter where Sizzle normally does his epic escape. He escapes, leaving the other two to fume.

Right before the toll the scav chieftain is behind, Sizzle hears a scream and turns around to see Rain running up. He tries to tell her to stop because the scags will attack, but then asks the scavs to not attack instead.

Rain runs right past Sizzle and towards the chieftain, and then he sees Arti approaching fast, so he runs too.

The Chieftain is warned, and Arti enters, the fight almost breaks out, and Sizzle grabs the spear because he knows what he needs to do.

Before he can do it, though, Raincloud takes an explosive spear and backstabs Arti. Dead.

Sizzle rushes to make sure his sister is okay, and then he sees that she is very much not. She's bloody, wounded, and shaky. There's a severe wound still bleeding profusely, and being sent into a wall by an explosion did not help.

Raincloud quickly explains that she had told Arti she'd found him far sooner (in a screaming fit while they tried to get out), and Arti snapped and attacked Rain, almost killing her. She escaped, but also knew she was most likely going to die. She didn't want Sizzle to live with the guilt of killing Arti, so she did it.

And then she dies, too.

Leaving one shocked and depressed Sizzle trying to process what just happened.

-Angel

Wowzers. That's pretty damn harsh 😭.

Raincloud helping in the scheme to kill Kelp is so big brained and sad ahhhhh.

Also hell yeah, Artificer deserves an explosive spear death.

This is a good idea for the au! @kaceyunderfell made og Raincloud.

[wallterwall]

-Yum Zlurplie

You know what? Fuck you. You useless piece of shit. You absolute waste of space and air. You uneducated, ignorant, idiotic dumb swine, you’re an absolute embarrassment to humanity and all life as a whole. The magnitude of your failure just now is so indescribably massive that one hundred years into the future your name will be used as moniker of evil for heretics. Even if all of humanity put together their collective intelligence there is no conceivable way they could have thought up a way to fuck up on the unimaginable scale you just did. When Jesus died for our sins, he must not have seen the sacrilegious act we just witnessed you performing, because if he did he would have forsaken humanity long ago so that your birth may have never become reality. After you die, your skeleton will be displayed in a museum after being scientifically researched so that all future generations may learn not to generate your bone structure, because every tiny detail anyone may have in common with you degrades them to a useless piece of trash and a burden to society. No wonder your father questioned whether or not your were truly his son, for you'd have to not be a waste of carbon matter for anyone to love you like a family member. Your birth made it so that mankind is worse of in every way you can possibly imagine, and you have made it so that society can never really recover into a state of organization. Everything has forever fallen into a bewildering chaos, through which unrecognizable core, you can only find misfortune. I would say the apocalypse is upon us but this is merely the closest word humans have for the sheer scale of horror that is now reality. You have forever condemned everyone you love and know into an eternal state of suffering, worse than any human concept of hell. You are such an unholy being, that if you step within a one hundred foot radius of a holy place or a place that has ever been deemed important by anyone, your distorted sac religious soul will ruin whatever meaning it ever had beyond repair. You are an idiotic, shiteating, dumbass ape and no one has ever loved you. Rhodes Island would have been better off if you'd never joined us. You are a lying, backstabbing, cowardly useless piece of shit and I hate you with every single part of my being. Even this worlds finest writers and poets from throughout the ages could never hope to accurately describe the scale on which you just fucked up, and how incredibly idiotic you are. Anyone that believes in any religion out there should now realize that they have been wrong this entire time, for if divine beings were real, they would never have allowed a being such as you to stain the earth and this universe. In the future there will be horror stories made about you, with the scariest part of them being that the reader has to realize that such an indescribable monster actually exists, and that the horrific events from the movie have actually taken place in the same world that they live in right now. You are the absolute embodiment of everything that has ever been wrong on this earth, yet you manage to make it so that that is only a small part of the evil that is your being. Never in the history of mankind has there been anyone that could have predicted such an eldrich abomination, but here you are. It’s hard to believe that I am seeing such an incredible failure with my own eyes, but here I am, so unfortunately I cannot deny your existence. Even if I did my very best, my vocabulary is not able to describe the sheer magnitude of the idiotic mistake that is you. Even if time travel some day will be invented, there still would not be a single soul willing to go back in time to before this moment to fix history, because having to witness such incredible horrors if they failed would have to many mental and physical drawbacks that not even the bravest soul in history would be willing to risk it. I cannot imagine the pure dread your mother must have felt when she had to carry a baby for nine months and then giving birth to such a wretched monster as you.

Not a single word of the incoherent, illogical rambling you may be wanting to do to defend yourself or apologize would ever be able to make up for what you just did. The countries of the world would have wanted to make laws preventing such a terrible event like this from ever happening again, but sadly this is not possible since your horrific actions just now have shattered every form of order this world once had, making concepts such as laws irrelevant. Right from the moment I first set my eyes on you I knew you were an absolute abomination of everything that is wrong with humanity. I was hoping I would have been able to prevent your evil from being released upon this world by tagging along and keeping my eye on you, but it is clear to me now that not even the greatest efforts would have been able to prevent a terrible event in this scale from occurring. You are the worst human being, or even just being in general, that I have ever had the misfortune of witnessing. Events like the infected plague apparently only happened with the goal of teaching humanity to survive such a horrible event as the one you just created, but not even mankind’s greatest trials were able to even slightly prepare anyone for the insufferable evil you have just created. If you ever had them, your children would be preemptively killed to protect this universe from the possibility of anyone in your bloodline being even half as bad as you are, except you will never be able to have children, because not a single human being will ever want to come within a hundred mile radius of you and anything you have ever touched. You are a colossal disappointment not only to your parents, but to your ancestors and entire bloodline. The disgusting mistake that you have just made is so incredibly terrible that everyone who would ever be to hear about it would spontaneously feel an indescribable mixture of immense anger, fear and anxiety that emotionally and physically they would never truly be the same ever again. The sheer scale of your mistake, if ever to be materialized, would not only surpass the size of the world, but it would reach far beyond the edges of the known, and almost certainly the unknown universe. I could sit here and write paragraphs, nay, books describing your immense failure, yet even if I were to dedicate my life to describing the reality of what has just gone down here, and I would spend every moment of it until my heart stops beating working as hard and efficiently as possible, yet there is not even a snowballs chance in hell that I would be able to come close to transcribing the absolute shitshow you have just released upon the world. You are an irresponsible, idiotic, disgusting, unloved, horrible excuse for a living being who’s soul contains less humanity than every ginger in history combined. The absolute disgust I feel when thinking about anything that has even a slight resemblance to anything that might have to do with you and your unholy actions is so incredibly great that when I am honest about it I think that even I do not posses a consciousness great enough to comprehend my own feelings about it. When people of Columbia fought to break free from Lungmen, countless soldiers fought and lost their lives in favor of a chance at a better future for their children, they did not give their lives to have you fuck the world up beyond repair to the degree that you are doing right now. Honestly, even when technology advances and studies on the subject become more and more accurate, I do not think humanity will ever truly be able to understand what your failure actually means for the universe.

My hate for you and everything you stand for is so much deeper than the depths of Shambala that you could probably take the entire Lungmen population down there and back up around twenty million times before you would have sunk to the end of my hate, and honestly, I do not want to exaggerate, but I think that that insult was low balling it such a massive amount that all mountains in this world combined would not be able to stack up to this imprecise judgement in light of the fact that when being honest, my hate is almost certainly bottomless. There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in. But then again, you are so incredibly abominable that you would probably be able to surpass the worst conceivable failure a living being could possibly make. You are so incredibly pathetic that you are honestly not worth any more of my words nor my time. Just remember that I will forever detest you for your failure and everything you stand for, and no matter what happens, I will never ever forgive you.

[rotworld]

One of my favourite pieces from this year was The Vow(also really enjoyed Cold-Blooded, Perfect Fit, Dinner and a Show, and Long Goodbye)! Did you want to share any more world building that didn't make it into the story? You mentioned there was a lot that didn't fit and I love the world building that you do.

the vow had an absurd amount of worldbuilding for such a short one shot because it was a setting i built before last month (just for fun/myself, not for a project i intended to post). believe it or not, this is a modern setting. house mandragora is a small part of a much bigger organization in the midst of a schism. warnings abound, these are the bad guys. contains child abuse, criminal exploitation, implied kidnapping and some extra weird implications of necrophilia.

->belvedere point is a big city with a big corruption and organized crime problem where everyone, but especially the wealthy elite, covertly wage war against one another for power and control. despite all the chaos and backstabbing, some semblance of equilibrium exists. those who’ve played the game long enough understand that a precarious balance is being purposefully maintained by some unseen hand. 

->by day, they're known as the lockwood yacht club. they meet several times a month to mingle and network, seemingly unconcerned with squabbling over territory like most of the city’s old money. by night, they’re known by another name: the ferrymen. operating in secrecy, they believe they are honor-bound and obligated to guide belvedere point and shape its future, and will destroy anything standing in their way. their preferred methods are subtle but they aren’t above bolder demonstrations of force when the situation calls for it.

->the lyc’s history can be traced to the founding of belvedere point itself. membership is only rarely conferred upon newcomers and is mostly hereditary, passed down through the founding families, though not every child is destined for such greatness. those who never learn the proper viciousness and secrecy will be culled. while marginally more stable than some of its competitors in belvedere point, the lyc is no stranger to internal disputes. centuries of infighting and power struggles have fractured the organization into three main factions: house conium, house mandragora, and house aconitum. each has their own unique hierarchies and responsibilities to the lyc, and each exists in a tense and complex truce with the others.

->house conium is considered the “main house,” formerly the main body of the lyc before its splintering. it’s the largest faction and the only one that interacts with the general public, its membership boasting some of belvedere point’s most influential entrepreneurs, politicians and socialites. house conium’s governing body, the committee, holds some sway over the other houses but not as much as it would like.

->house mandragora consists of the lyc’s most crucial assets: its necromancers. each one is born through a ritual of science and sorcery known as the “alraune protocol.” this process requires the combination of reproductive material from a living participant and a dead one, through insemination or other means. a creature born on the boundary between life and death will exist between the two and can confer this gift to others. the alraune protocol has a high rate of failure and often produces nothing at all, so every necromancer successfully created is considered extremely precious. necromancers are often targeted by those who discover the true nature of the lyc, so they're carefully guarded and encouraged to remain out of the public eye.

-house mandragora is governed by its eldest member, orcus, who is rumored to be one of the organization’s first necromancers. its day to day operations include esoteric research, maintaining the lyc’s poison gardens, and tending to revenants. the house is still recovering from a cataclysm that nearly wiped them out. 

->house aconitum consists entirely of revenants, elite assassins who serve as the lyc’s enforcers. revenants are obtained as children from throughout belvedere point and begin combat training as early as possible. as apprentices, they live extremely restricted lives within the confines of their training grounds and dormitories, and are conditioned to have absolute loyalty to their superiors, to the ferrymen, and most importantly to the necromancers of house mandragora. transformation into a revenant is a highly anticipated event, granting them inhuman strength, speed and resilience. to discourage reckless behavior, apprentices are taught that a first death that comes too early or easily is shameful. despite this, a prevalent belief remains among revenants that to sacrifice themselves for their necromancer is the highest honor and many hope to die this way. 

-house aconitum is governed by the highest-ranking revenants, those who serve the current leader of house mandragora. their primary function is to carry out the will of the main house and eliminate its enemies, select and train revenant candidates, and protect the members of house mandragora.

bonus fun facts:

-necromancers look like regular humans but give off an eerie feeling that makes most people uncomfortable around them (it has the opposite effect on revenants).

-revenants get etiquette training so they can blend in at fancy social events. merrill and gideon are both extremely talented ballroom dancers.

-allegedly, each necromancer has a distinct “flavor” influenced by which poisons they consume most often. it’s scandalous to discuss this openly but it’s a frequent topic of gossip in house aconitum’s dormitories. 

-it was the necromancers who initiated the schism that led to the formation of the houses. they believe that the incidents which reduced their numbers may have been orchestrated by the main house as “punishment” for their rebellion, a claim that the ferrymen vehemently deny.

[jiangchengisapurpleraccoon]

yo any jiang antis around? im not talking about fans who like canon jiang cheng but are being pushed around into tagging their vanilla posts about how jc is in the source material as 'anti', im talking about people who actually hate the fuck out of him and want to bash his character i for one need more fics where wwx or wn kill jc because they hold a grudge over the siege, i need more of those fics, but ive only found few or where he gets backstabbed by the jins right after and jiang sect gets assimilated into theirs, or even aus where wwx was never a part of jiang sect and as a result their sect crumbles and never recovers from wen attack (with exception of yanli getting the short end of the stick of course)

[sulfurz]

ೃ༄ VERY CONVINCING (edge x fem!reader)

ೃ༄ PAIRING: edge x fem!reader

ೃ༄ REQUESTED BY: @slutforoscarisaac

could you possibly write a one shot with heel!fem! reader and judgment day edge? edge wants reader to join judgement day but she refuses (cause she’s an independent badass) on live tv which pisses edge off. so after their segment edge follows reader to her locker room to convince her to join. if you could please add your little sprinkle of nsfw that would be amazing!

ೃ༄ WARNINGS: sprinkle of nsfw n slight aggression

ೃ༄ WORD COUNT: 2.6k

ೃ༄ NOTE: i have not proofread this so excuse how messy it is. it’s messy in general tbh i’m sO SORRY but my god i am very attracted to this man (i’m actually gay and ace but that’s just his power)

standing in ring, mic in hand as you listened to the boos of the crowd shouldnt been have exhilarating as it was. but as you surveyed the arena, one hip jutted out to the side to see the majority of those around you jeering and giving you disapproving gestures, you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face. it probably seemed menacing to the crowd, a sadistic show that you felt no guilt for the betrayals you had done, but truthfully? you could get used to being so hated. most great wwe legends had this period in their career, and seeing your name up on this lists made it all worth it.

backstage, you had your friend and the crowds you stuck around. in the ring? the only allegiance you pledged was to yourself, and the audience were well aware by now that this loyalty to your own cause ran deep enough to turn on those who appeared to be your allies. you had a goal — the belt — and you didn’t care what you’d have to do to get to it.

“missed me?” you asked the wwe universe, satisfied with the heckles you received in response. your break had only been short, simply recovering from a surface wound doctors had advised needed time to heal over, but you had wasted no time in ambushing one of your fellow superstars backstage on your return, and the fans were shown once again you were back and undeterred from your backstabbing saga.

taking a few steps forward, your leant against the ropes that surveyed the right side of the arena.

“it seems in just a month you’ve all forgotten who runs this show huh? hope my little display reminded you all.” you growled out, voice as sultry as you could manage. you were a villain they loved to hate, after all. “i’m getting pretty fed up of you all doubting me. how many times do i have to prove i’m the best before you start to believe me?”

your taunts were welcomed with angry calls, coupled with the occasional fan who cheered as they stuck by your side. those that loved the underdog always made themselves known.

you were just about to launch into the purpose of your promo when the arena went dark again, and the first sign of trouble was when the animated wings spread ferociously across the screen at the back of the stage. really, with the track you were on, you should have expected this sooner.

still, nothing could have quite prepared you seeing the newly drafted judgement day appear at the opposite end of the arena to you, damian and rhea flanking their leaders side as edge honed his attention directly on you.

he looked so eerie in the dark, an unsettling feeling settling momentarily in your stomach as you dragged your eyes over the kingpin of the stable. he only smirked back menacingly as they made their way towards you.

as expected, playing their role as perfect lackeys, rhea and damian took their places either side of the ring, ready to jump incase you made a break for it — but not edge. oh no, he climbed into the ring gracefully, not stopping until he was a mere foot away from where you had returned to stand front and centre of the stage. from here, he towered over you, something you were sure on camera looked more intimidating than most things wwe had seen.

lifting a mic to his lips, judgement days leader began his proposition, not breaking eye contact once. “you’ve made your statement y/n. you’ve got what you wanted — an opportunity.”

after an intense stare down, edge stepped away from you, and suddenly you could breathe again as he paraded the ring in a circle around where you stood.

“you have a lot of things to offer: the heart, the mindset, the strength — but what you haven’t got? a lot of allies.” you daren’t turn your head fully to look at him, feeling how the intimidating (yet, gorgeous) man stopped behind you. all you were willing to give was a weak glance to your side to see rhea grinning in the darkness. “you could be so powerful if placed with the right people. you have everything it takes, but way too many enemies to take them all down at once.”

edge circled back around, acting like a vulture as it waited for its prey’s final breath. they were determined to wear you down, but you steeled yourself as you let the man continue.

“you have no aid, and when those you’ve betrayed turn on you — well.” edge chuckled to himself, sinister and gravelly in a way that went straight through you. “i’d hate to have a front row seat to your downfall when you could have had so much more.”

poking your tongue into the side of your cheek, you stretched out your neck as you inserted yourself back in the conversation. “your side getting cold, mister? need another body to warm your titleless stampede?” you sneered, finding satisfaction in the glare edge sent you in response. “if you think i’d join your faction just because i’m alone then you don’t know me at all.”

edge clenched his jaw, taking a step towards you as another chant was ignited amongst the crowd. “i know you’re a smart woman, y/n. i think you know we could be the leg up you need to finally take what’s yours. and i must say you’d be better to have us as allies than enemies.”

you pretended to mull it over, but your decision had already been made from the moment you saw them appear. you had gone it alone thus far, and if anything, it was now a matter of proving to yourself, and everyone who doubted you that you could do it.

“do you know what i think when i hear you talk, edge?” this time, it was you who took a step forward, crowding edge where he stood. you had to look up to speak directly to him, but your presence was large enough to veto the difference. “i hear a man who is scared. you all know perfectly well what i’m capable of. none of you could come out to face me one on one, so you just had to band together to prove a point.”

you clicked your tongue before continuing.

“that’s the difference between you and me. i’ve been doing this alone. my enemies don’t try to get to me because they know it’s a losing battle. and i’ll promise you something else,” you placed a hand against his chest for effect, sliding it steadily down until it rested on his sternum “when i win this, alone, without your pathetic help, you’ll be the first person i mention in my thank you speech.”

with that, you dropped your mic to the ground, giving an exaggerated curtsy that had long become your signature, before you clambered out of the ring and made your way down the catwalk to the familiar sound of your music. even those who hated you couldn’t help but cheer after the display, and you weren’t about to stick around to see how judgement day picked up the pieces of your rejection.

there was a certain level of pride in your actions, knowing you had stuck to your own guns. you had barely even faltered when cornered by the hall of famer, and you could use that as a testament to your determination. the congratulations you received from various superstars and company men as you headed backstage (even paul heyman stopped to praise you?!) certainly told the promo had been an overall success despite the interrupt.

there would be a lot to sort at a later date, surely some damage control that your manager would be responsible for, but for now you deserved a shower, and maybe some takeout.

the locker room welcomed you with a familiar squeak of the door, finding the room which you shared with just two others empty due to their lack of scheduling at the company tonight. these were you favourite shows, when you could stretch and take as much time as you needed, no fear of others bursting inside whilst you were kid costume change.

or at least, you thought.

it was just as you were brushing through your hair with your hands, a button down shirt hanging open on your frame over the underwear that the door opened with a clatter. you moved to cover yourself, and scream at whoever was entering unannounced, but then you turned to see the figure standing in the doorway.

edge stared you down, eyes only leaving yours when he took the opportunity to take in the sight of your half dressed body. you buttoned up the mid section of your shirt on instinct, stepping back to your back as the judgement days leader closed the door behind him.

“my answer is still no.” you muttered, trying your best to ignore how he locked the door behind him.

“i know.” he hummed, playing with the bottom of his suit jacket. you had to turn back to your things to avoid his cold gaze “you made that pretty clear with your attempt to embarrass me.”

“nothing personal, sweetheart.” you taunted, surely adding insult to injury.

edge gave a faint growl, suddenly crowding behind you a lot like how he had in the ring. you felt a tug to the hem of your shirt, slapping his hand away before you were even fully turned to face him. he was closer to you now, having chest nearly colliding with your own when you whipped around to shoot him a glare. but all your possible retorts died in your throat when you saw how he was staring at you.

like he wanted to eat you alive.

“oh trust me, sweetheart, i know. to turn down such an opportunity on a personal grudge? now you’d have to be more stupid than i first thought.” one of his hands reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, but it wasn’t sweet in the way most would take that action, it was a fight for ownership.

you stepped back in an attempt to put some space between you and the man, but were met by the bench against the back of your knees, almost causing you to tumble. just before you could slam down against the seat and the hard wood of the locker spaces, an arm was around your waist, steadying you but leaving very little room to breathe.

“get off me.” you whispered, no real heat to your own request.

he knew that too, lips curling in a smirk as he realised he had you right where he wanted you. “you don’t want that, do you, y/n?”

steeling yourself, you choked out an unconvincing “i do”, and just to prove a point, edge released his grip just enough to allow you to slip.

you weren’t proud of how quickly you reacted, grabbing at the collar of the black suit to keep yourself upright and igniting a low chuckle from the man in front of you.

once you had steadied yourself, he was the one to move to release your hands from his collar. you thought he might move back after having made his point, but he didn’t make any attempt to even release his hold on you, instead, taking a step forward until your back was curved as it pushed against the hard wooden beam behind you. the only things holding you up now were the angle and the way you levelled your legs against his.

he used the position to his advantage, sliding his knee in between your thighs, knowing you couldn’t push him away for fear of falling. one of his hands came around your body, not quite touching in a way that would provide pressure, but dancing along your bare thigh enough to pull goosebumps from your skin.

“your little stunt has caused quite the rift amongst us.” he growled, low and rough as his eyes raked your upper body. the top of your shirt had slipped open enough now that you were sure he had the perfect line of view of your chest. “i think you owe me an apology. what do you say?”

his free hand, the one that wasn’t teasing your thigh, journeyed back up your body, coming around rest on the back of your waist. you couldn’t help but arch on instinct, head lifted enough that the space between your faces was almost minimal. he leant forward, breath ghosting over your lips as you mustered as much power as possible to whisper a half hearted “fuck you.”

edge chuckled again in response, hand on your waist giving a firm squeeze before his lips were on your neck. your brain was screaming to move away, but the pleasant sensation that rushed through your body told you otherwise. “you’d like that wouldn’t you.” he mumbled against your skin, trailing a line of kisses down the side of your neck and across your clavicle. you couldn’t help the gasp that slipped out as he attached his lips to the bottom of your throat, nipping at the skin there “tell me to stop, babygirl, and i will.”

there was your out, all you needed was to say the word and, despite his harsh acting exterior, the gentleman inside would stop. but you both knew you couldn’t, not with how his hand massaged at your waist, and his lips sucked what would surely be a bruise come the morning into your sensitive neck.

“edge,” you whispered out, hands coming around his neck to tug him closer. he obliged, hand around your waist pulling you up and flush against his body. the movement caused just enough pressure of his knee against your crotch, and the involuntary groan that left your mouth was welcomed by him smashing his lips against yours.

he kissed you ferociously, not wasting any time before sliding his tongue into the mix. then, your feet were off the floor and legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he pushed your back against the locker spaces once more, his waist pressed firmly against yours so that you could feel just how affected he was. you were sure you weren’t much better, feeling the way your body reacted on instinct to the man’s touch.

he supported you enough with his thigh to release one hand from under you to practically undo the two buttons holding your shirt together with an expert flick. the air conditioning hit your body once more, and for someone who wrestled in underwear, you had never felt more exposed than now.

“still not joining.” you mustered up enough courage to whisper the rejection again, gasping loudly when edge used your distraction to cleverly unhook your bra. it didn’t slip off due to the issue of your shirt still being over your arms, but he seemed pleased with himself as he kissed down your chest.

the hand that had worked the magic on your top trailer down your centre, teasing finger pressing until he reached the hem of your underwear. he attached his lips momentarily to your left breast, before his hand found its goal and he cupped your heat through your underwear, a snarky “even now?” breathed into your skin.

you couldn’t help the moan that tore out of you once again as edge slipped your underwear to one side, but this time all that followed was a chuckle of your own as you used your hands to direct his head upwards. just before you collided your lips together once more, you punctuated your laugh with a sly “actually, you’re very convincing.”

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

WAYV Tea Sessions

Disclaimer: No facts, all alleged. This is my interpretation of the cards and energy I work with.

Okay, another group with some tea. I highly enjoyed doing this one!

Kun

I can see him being someone who is all about that money. Taking any opportunity, he can get to gain some more. I can kind of see him begging for any anything they can give him. I am confused by the last the three cards he is showing me. Ace of cups, he could be someone emotionally overwhelmed, maybe he cries for sympathy. It seems his emotions can come all at once. And then we have the 7 of swords and two of wands, which can do with sneaking around and sexual favors he may do to get what he wants.

Okay, I am getting he may have slept with others for opportunities, but not sure he is happy about it. He seems pretty devastated about the situation. But it seems it was the only option to progress. It does seem money; career opportunities are very important to him. I am also getting him not having the full information or sharing the information. He may be in an emotional place right due to all that has happened. He may be starting to understand the sneakiness, betrayal and backstabbing part of the industry. Unless he also partakes in that as well.

I can see this man sucking up to the higher ups a lot to get any opportunity he can. I would say he can be an opportunist. But I do feel he can get overwhelmed by the things he may need to do to get these opportunities. But I also see him learning to be cold and detached from it all. I am seeing cutting people out, being petty to get what is rightfully his in his mind. So, he can be conniving to get the upper hand. I wouldn't say he is the most loyal person. I do feel he does his best to shut off his emotions.

Ten

There could be things about the industry, or things you may have to do to get ahead that he isn't particularly a fan of. I see him wanting things to be just and fair. He seems like an idealist and feels things should work how they are supposed to and not do the shady things they do behind the scenes.

I do get this sense of him wanting to escape this reality as the harsh realities can be a bit too cruel for him. So, I can see him dabbling in things, drugs, their special drinks to do that. I see him wanting to make money on his own terms. He wants to feel pride in what he built and created. And doesn't necessarily want to move about in a corrupt manner.

I am not sure if he feels the need to defend himself against this Queen of Wands, or this could be his energy. Wanting to let his creativity shine. I think this is more him. He has this charisma and charm to him, and he feels his creative energy should be why he gets ahead, so he will defend that vigorously. It seems like there are obstacles to getting that and having him shine the way he wants to. He wants his creative, magnetic charm to be the highlight for him. He also wants to inspire others to create as well through his work.

Winwin

I see him being put in difficult situations that is hard for him to recover from. He may have been too naive to things and may have stepped in something he may have not wanted to. He could have been betrayed or backstabbed. It is like he may have fell for a trap. I wanted some clarifiers here. I think he realized how shady the industry is and what it takes to make loads of money or build a career in the industry, and he finds the climb to the top can be traumatizing for idol, like himself.

There is a powerful businessman that could control matters for him. It seems this person makes all the decisions for him. He kind of has to do what he is told. He could push him to do these parties or events they have them do or ritualistic stuff they may have to do. I don't see him as someone who is that comfortable getting outside his comfort zone and stays comfortable in his own bubble and environment, so I don't see him wanting to step out and do something different or go on his own.

They may offer to him to do some sexual favors. I don't see him taking those offers, maybe this is why he is in the dungeon, if he still is. I don't pay attention to this group as much, but I remember him not being active as much before. Anyway, he does not seem interested in doing that to get ahead. There is a strong indifference with him to go that route.

Xiojun

Well, every time I see this 10 of Cups. I just think these idols appearing like a happy family unit. Appearance is everything. But then it is followed by the 10 of swords, so behind the scenes there is darkness, betrayal, backstabbing and even death, yup said that. It is a lot grimmer than what appears on the surface. The job can be mentally tasking, draining and exhausting. And as I mentioned with WinWin, traumatizing.

I see him as someone who follows his heart and intuition and uses that as his guide. He seems on the verge of wanting to face his fears and step to unknown territory. Not sure what that means. It is like he wants to dive into the depths of himself. I am not sure why he is showing me this. I got some more clarifiers and got 3 of Pentacles and 10 of Pentacles, so it has to do with work. He may need to face some fears, or dive into the secrets of the industry. I just got the occult, so what the fuck. What you mean occult. Anyway, there is weird stuff that goes into the industry, so he may be stepping into that. Or learning more about that.

Hendery

He is similar to Kun. The number of Pentacles I see here. This man is about that money and that is it, fu** anyone and everyone who gets in his way. I got similar cards to what I saw with Kun. This dude is not in touch with his emotions. He is cold, callus, cutthroat, he will cut you if you get in his way.

There isn't much to him, he is more logical, and money based than anything. He is detached from others and thinks about how he can pursuit his career and gain access to money. I can say he would be the type to do shady ass shit to get ahead but not seeing shady cards though.

I wanted to pull more cards and got the Queen of Cups and the Sun. This is interesting, because these two cards are warmer and softer, so where is this coming from? Maybe with the help of someone he is learning to tap into his emotions and his true pure essence. I am not sure if he saw a therapist and that helped him, or this lady is offering him these drinks they offer and that helped him tap into his pure energy.

Both of those cards have light shining on it. It is like it helped him tap into his pure essence and maybe help him gain access to his emotions and his soul. Okay, this is interesting to me, so pulled other cards. Of course, I get the 2 of Wands and the Hierophant. This could indicate sexual favors ordered by the company. Or this person was brought into help him understand a different perspective on things. I just keep getting this person gave him access to his true essence, but I don't know what that means. I am just an interpreter, so I can't explain this better. I am going to move on, but his story was interesting.

Okay, more came to me, the Hierophant can indicate cult like behavior or the occult, but they wanted him to not be so stringent in his thinking or ideal and wanting him to work with someone who has a broader view on things. But this doesn't make sense to me, because I feel companies would want them to be zombie like and fall in line, so I am confused by this one.

Yang Yang

He seems stressed af from the things the company wants him to do. They could manipulate things or try to pin him against others. I am not sure he is here for that. Or they may compare him to other members a lot as well, which can cause him stress and sleepless nights.

I see him wanting to move away from this all and go towards a more positive direction. Not sure he wants to stay with the company. I see him wanting to find his own path and shine on his own. And let his creative vision shine through. It seems he has a lot of potential to shine on his own and do his own work and create the music he wants. He seems to have a creative vision, but it does seem like contracts and things he is tied to pulls him down.

He has a passion and a desire to create the life he wants, and he is a visionary. A man who wants to act on his vision. For his vision to be fulfilled and for him to accomplish what he wants. It seems he has to get through this Queen of Cups, as she appears again. It is like this person taps them into their true potential and essence, which I don't really see as a bad thing though. It is like they know their true purpose and potential through this. It doesn't make much sense to me for the company to be involved in this. It could be an outside person, but from Hendery's reading. I see the company involved. Interesting, anyway, going to end on this note.

Well, this was highly interesting. Another favorite of mine. It wasn't too depressing, but not stale either. It was a fun mix to get into. Glad I did this group.

[davekat-sucks]

i think this conversation is better to quote on why we say jake shit his pants, dave literally points out the smell.

KARKAT: UGH. KARKAT: YOU AND I BOTH KNOW NOTHING MATTERED IN THAT CAMPAIGN BUT JAKE’S FUCKING SPEECH. DAVE: yeah DAVE: i mean, like DAVE: i just keep imagining what wouldve happened if that absurd rube goldberg machine of life ruining humiliation had been stopped at any point DAVE: maybe just being backstabbed by his endorsement alone was something we couldve recovered from with some rigorous counter campaigning DAVE: but what if i had been fast enough to cut him off before hed even said anything DAVE: what if i hadnt accidentally fallen on him on the stage when i was rushing over there to stop him DAVE: what if he hadnt freaked out like i set off fireworks next to a nam vet and started trying to fucking scrum me DAVE: what if id just backed away from his punch with my legs like a normal person instead of warping the flow of time to escape causing him to become so startled he shit his pants DAVE: what if i hadnt gotten so visibly grossed out by the smell that even the people watching it on tv could tell what had happened DAVE: what if he hadnt started sobbing when the audience in the front rows started throwing up DAVE: what if wed had better security and stopped that lady from running onstage during the fracas and announcing that jake has been dodging paying child support for their 3 kids DAVE: like what was the LINE KARKAT: IT WASN’T... *THAT* BAD. DAVE: you think

i hate hs2/hsbc so much its unreal

Source on Epilogues Meat 38

[slyvester101]

Despite what everyone thought, Wash did actually know how to sleep. 

He knew intimately how not getting enough rest could mean life or death, how just one sleepless night can incapacitate someone to the point of dysfunction.

He has a scar on his shoulder from a bullet he couldn’t dodge, feet stumbling over the terrain after a sleepless night high up in a jungle canopy. A sniper shot through his armor, piercing his skin and leaving a nasty mark on his thigh when he was too tired to stay aware of his surroundings. He almost got stabbed in the throat after getting backstabbed by a tip, leaving a faint scar tracing the side of his neck.  

There are many more scars like that–-usually a bit more mundane in nature, like when he tripped over his own feet and broke his nose by face planting into the concrete—that reminded Wash of the importance of sleep, that pushed him to getting as much sleep as he could. 

He wasn’t always able to get a solid eight hours in a row, nightmares are a hell of a bitch and sometimes a mission called for unusual hours awake, but Wash quickly figured out that he could make up for the sleep he missed by taking naps throughout the day. And since he was almost always on the move, he learned to sleep in some… odd positions. But if it meant the difference between life or death, Wash was willing to learn how to sleep in full power armor on a stack of crates in the middle of the day.

So yes, Wash knew how to sleep even if his way was rather unusual. And he knew that he wasn’t the only one with quirks when it came to when or how they slept.

Which is why he didn’t say anything about Tucker’s odd sleeping habits when he joined the blues.

They had just finished fighting the Meta, bodies bruised and a little broken when they finally made it back to the safety of their base, so it made sense that most of the time spent in those beginning months were used for sleeping, healing, and recovering from the long months hopping from fight to fight. 

It made sense to find Tucker curled up in bed well into the late hours of the day, napping on the couch or on the roof of the base. Wash was a little surprised when he spotted him cuddling with Caboose in his room occasionally with all the bitching and complaining Tucker does about him.

Even once they are all healed up and settled, Wash didn’t take notice of Tucker’s occasional lack of energy, simply assuming he’s just always been a low maintenance, low energy guy, maybe even a little lazy sometimes.

There are days where Tucker can barely get out of bed to eat, those days only noted because Caboose would come up to Wash and ask him to help get Tucker up for the day. But there were also days when Tucker seemed to burn with energy, buzzing in his skin and begging Wash for a spar or two.

He didn’t think anything of it, not really. He understood trauma and depression and everything that came with it. He, himself, wasn’t the best example of mental stability. So he didn’t say anything.

Not until Crash Site Bravo.

He’s training with Tucker, Caboose having already finished his laps and off to explore more of the canyon, still peppy and hopeful for the day Church comes back (Wash has his doubts, but he doesn’t voice them. He too wants to hold onto the hope that Carolina didn’t just leave him behind again). 

Tucker’s been falling behind more and more lately, more stubborn and grumpy and passive aggressive than ever. He snaps when Wash gives orders, continually sleeps in past schedule, and is always finding excuses for breaks.

Wash thinks Tucker is just being pissy about his friend leaving and about Wash taking charge during their extended stay in the gorge 

He’s not wrong, but he’s not completely right either.

“Tucker! I didn’t say you could stop!” Wash shouts from his place at the end of the track, arms folded as he waits for Tucker to get his hands off his knees and finish the lap.

He still had two more to go.

“Just… just give me a minute.”

Wash grits his teeth, patience slowly thinning the longer Tucker drags this on. He barks at Tucker to keep moving, that the battlefield will not allow Tucker a break to catch his breath. 

Tucker only gasps, shaking on his legs before his knees crash to the ground, unable to keep himself up any longer.

Wash drops the hardass act, worry sinking into his stomach as Tucker crouches more and more on himself, seemingly unable to catch his breath. “Tucker?”

He starts moving when Tucker doesn’t respond, the harsh breathing being the only response Wash gets. He kneels down next to him, gets his hands on his shoulders to keep him steady as he checks him over for injuries. “Hey, hey, are you okay? Did I push you too hard?”

Tucker throws a weak glare his way, wheezing and panting like he’d never run a lap in his life. “What do… do you think? Fuck.”

“Easy. Deep breathes. Take your time, okay?” He lets Tucker crash into his chest, heavy and exhausted. They sit there for a while, Tucker doing his best to take large gulps of air now that he doesn’t have to worry about collapsing onto the floor.

It takes a while, but he does get his breath back and the shaking stops. They take Tucker’s helmet off as well, the aqua soldier practically melts into the cold armor of Wash’s chest plate when his bare face hits the metal. “‘M really tired, Wash.”

“You’re always tired, Tucker.” An observation, not a critique. The last few months are now being observed in a different light as Tucker mumbles an important detail.

“Chronic fatigue is a bitch.”

Wash blinks. “I didn’t know you had chronic fatigue.”

“Why do you think me and Grif get along so well? We both tired ass bitches.” Ah, that explains a lot actually. The constant napping, the lack of motivation, the sudden crashes in energy. Wash really should’ve taken that into consideration.

He feels even more like a jerk when he remembers he thought of Tucker and Grif as lazy assholes. The sting of shame rings loud and clear as Wash shifts Tucker to sit more comfortably against him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not wake me up at 5am every morning?”

“I think we can manage that.” Wash snorts, relaxing a bit at hearing Tucker sass him as usual.

His amusement fades a bit when Tucker seems to melt in relief at the statement, almost sobbing at the confirmation that he’s no longer required to wake up so early in the morning. “You’re exhausted, huh?”

“I just wanna sleep all the time. It fucking sucks. I can’t do anything.” Tucker slumps further into Wash, misery soaking into his voice.

Wash thinks back to Blood Gulch, to the days where Tucker seemed to have endless energy, a smile nearly cracking his face open as he ran circles around the reds with Caboose. He then thinks of the days where Tucker stayed miserably tucked in his room, bleary eyed and grumpy and more crass than normal. 

Wash had figured Tucker was having a bad day, that his mind had decided to fill with thoughts of inadequacy or insecurity like it does for Wash. And maybe there was a bit of that, but Wash would now pay good money that Tucker was more upset about the fact that he couldn’t get out of bed, that he didn’t have the energy to be the high-spirited man he was than anything regarding his mental health. 

Looking back at the previous infrequency of Tucker’s less energetic episodes and comparing them with Tucker’s more recent descent into tiredness and dimming motivation, Wash makes the conclusion that there’s other factors pushing Tucker off the deep end into his sleeping disorder.

“Do you have any meds you need to be taking?”

“Ran out. I think Grif is running low too.” Tucker mumbles.

Wash makes a note to talk to Simmons about that, hopefully the red had gathered tips on the best way to assist with someone showing symptoms of extreme exhaustion, maybe even things specific to Tucker with how long they’ve known each other. Until then, Wash settles to keep Tucker safe while he faces the rough edge of his exhaustion. “Well, that’s shitty.”

“Yeah. Shit.” Tucker curls further into Wash, not even trying to muffle down his whines as he hisses in pain. “My head hurts.”

“You wanna go lay down?”

“If I lay down, I am not getting back up again.” Tucker warns, skeptical that Wash would let him rest that long.

Wash vows to be a better friend than that, one that Tucker (and Caboose) can rely on to tell them when they’re tired or hurt, to earn their trust to tell him that they have a fucking disorder they need meds for. He grabs the back of Tucker’s neck, squeezing gently as he leans him to sit back.

“I think I can make an exception.” Wash assists Tucker back to his feet, arms reached out to help him stand. It becomes clear rather quickly that Tucker will not be making it to his room on his own. 

After stumbling side by side for a while, Wash decides to just save them both the headache and scoops Tucker up into his arms. He expects Tucker to protest, to flail and bitch about being held like a baby, but Tucker simply sinks into Wash, sighs gently, and shuts his eyes. 

He’s out before they even make it halfway to Tucker’s room. 

Wash takes his time getting there, not wanting to disturb Tucker from his much needed sleep. He lets habit guide his legs as he focuses on keeping the precious bundle in his arms still, smiling gently at the soft look of Tucker’s face as he relaxes.

He’s so focused on his face, in fact, that he doesn’t even notice the new presence hovering behind him.

“Is Tucker hurt?”

It takes every bit of Freelancer training to not jump as Caboose pops out from seemingly nowhere. Wash smiles gently at him, hoping it’s as comforting as possible as he adjusts Tucker to fit snugly against his chest, thankful that he didn’t wake up from the sudden noise. “No, he’s just tired.”

Caboose nods sadly, pouting underneath his helmet as he twitches in place. “Tucker is always tired.”

“I know, Caboose.”

“He is out of medicine.” Wash blinks. He hadn’t expected Caboose to know about Tucker’s condition. Then again, they have been on a team together longer than Wash has. Caboose probably knows more about what’s normal or not for Tucker. 

“Yeah, he told me. He’s probably going to be pretty worn out until we can get it refilled.”

“Tucker hates being tired.” 

“I know. We’ll figure something out for him, try to make things easier while we’re stuck in this canyon.” Caboose nods again, but doesn’t say anything more as he stands off to Wash’s side, looking a little antsy as he stares at Tucker.

“Something wrong?”

He shakes his head as he picks at the seams of his gloves. It’s weird seeing Caboose so fidgety and not bouncing off the walls or yelling at the top of his lungs. Wash puts together that maybe, just maybe, Caboose is purposefully being quiet so Tucker can sleep. “No, it’s just that I’m usually the one to take Tucker to bed when he falls asleep because Church isn’t strong enough to carry him.”

“Oh… Would you like to help me?” 

“Yes!” Caboose slaps a hand over his mouth after he shouts, looking at Tucker’s still sleeping form before letting his hand slip away to show off his smile. Bouncing on his feet as he crowds near, Wash lets him gently hold up Tucker's dangling legs as they walk the last stretch to Tucker’s room.

Once Tucker is gently placed under his blankets, his armor removed and placed in a pile on the floor, Wash tries to move away to exit with Caboose in tow. He’s stopped by Tucker latching onto his arm, grip firm and unmoving as he’s tugged to lean on the bed.

“Stay.” He hears him muffle into his pillow.

Caboose stage-whispers his gasp, shaking Wash gently as he shares his idea. “We should have a sleepover! We can make a fort and everything!”

Wash looks down at Tucker, the man not even trying to hang onto consciousness before slipping back asleep. He nudges him a little, silently asking for approval before they no doubt turn his room into a giant mess of pillows and blankets. Tucker hums softly, pushing into the touch as he sinks into the bed.

That’s probably the best they’re gonna get.

“Alright, let’s do it. But—” He holds up a hand to keep Caboose from cheering, putting a finger over his mouth as he whispers, “—let’s keep quiet so we don’t disturb Tucker, okay?”

Caboose nods, zipping his lips and throwing away the key before bolting out of the room to gather supplies. Wash sighs after him, smiling as he lets himself sit fully on the bed. He bumps slightly into Tucker as he does, the line of Tucker’s body curling into him the closer he gets.

In a moment of pure intuition and impulse, Wash cards a hand through Tucker’s hair, careful not to pull on the long locs Tucker spends meticulous care on. He gets to watch as Tucker melts against him, practically purring under his hands as Wash gently scratches at his scalp.

“Sleep well, Lavernius.”

I’m gonna get you out of here. He thinks.

I promise.