#clean torture

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

Thinking about this variant having “old habits die screaming” on the back cover and her then singing “Clean” which features the lyrics “The water filled my lungs/I screamed/So loud but no one heard a thing” and is all about moving on and trying to break from something that you thought you needed in your life and it’s making me unwell.

[sacredfire44]

Kinda wanna read/write a post-canon Bingqiu fic set years later, where during some routine, silly wife plot, Binghe somehow finds out that the soul attached to his husband’s body is not, in fact, the original soul.

Like any person, his first assumption isn’t that his husband had replaced the original SQQ. It’s that an imposter has replaced his husband.

A skilled imposter. One who knows all of his husband’s little quirks, who slipped under even Binghe’s watchful eye.

Binghe takes care to not indicate that he’s noticed. His blood parasites confirm this is still his husband’s body, and he refuses to scare them into running before he can get the imposter out.

Binghe spends weeks researching and practicing, until he’s finally certain he can tear the imposter’s soul apart without hurting his husband. Praying, desperately, that it’s a powerful possession instead of a replacement. Praying his husband is still alive in there.

Finally, he slips into the imposter’s dreamscape, clinging to threads and forcing his way as close to the soul as possible, for the surface-level dreams show him in SQQ’s body. Inside, he finds a small man, with big eyes and stick-thin arms, features far too similar to his Shizun. A cheap, pathetic mockery of Shen Qingqiu, he makes sure to tell them.

They are weak outside of Shen qingqiu’s powerful body. It is all too easy to restrain them, to rage and revile them for their crimes, to question what they’ve done, to tear them apart, limb from limb-

“How long?,”He’d snarled, furious, claws digging into the pathetic parasite’s left arm, yanking it just far enough for the strain to burn.

“Years,”The imposter says, eyes wide and wet. Crying.

Years. Years with his husband that this imposter has taken, has stolen from them. Nights spent entangled, lazy mornings spent curled into each other’s embrace, soft evenings spent watching the sunset.

Binghe yanks the arm the rest of the way out, relishing in the way the parasite screams. It will know pain for what it’s taken from him, for what it’s taken from his Shizun.

XXXX

At first, Shen Qingqiu, formerly Shen Yuan, didn’t know what was happening. He’d thought of himself as Shen Qingqiu for years now, so waking up in his original body had been confusing and disorienting.

When Binghe appeared as well, he knew immediately it was a nightmare. It couldn’t be anything but that. Binghe, his Binghe as he was now, would never look at him like this, like he was the dirt on the bottom of his shoe, the scum of the earth.

It was rare to have nightmares nowadays. Binghe was always watching his dreams too closely to let something like that slip by. But the last few weeks, he’d been absorbed in his newest little pet project, exhausted and stressed by whatever it was he refused to talk about. Shen Qingqiu didn’t blame him for having one night of sleep without constant vigilance.

“So the imposter shows himself,”Dream-Binghe said, and ah, what an odd thing to dream up! Shen Qingqiu was just as good as the original goods, and he knew it! There was no way at all he had such insecurities, and certainly not any strong enough to appear as dreams! If he’d had such dreams before, that was simply a coincidence, a trick of the mind repeating the scenario it’d already created to avoid making a new one.

But Binghe doesn’t rant and rave at him for lying, doesn’t call out his betrayal. Instead, his eyes hard and cold, his claws tight where they dig into his wrists, he questions him.

Why?

I don’t know, Shen Qingqiu has to answer. I woke up in this body.

Where is he?

I don’t know, he answers again.

How long?

Here, Shen Qingqiu bites down a cry of pain as his left arm his yanked painfully out, a loud pop as it tugs out of his socket. The pain is real, he realizes deliriously. It’s real the way the Punishment Protocol had been. The thought makes ice pool in his chest.

What had he done to deserve a punishment from the System?

The hand tightens, the bones in his wrist creaking ominously at the strength of the hold.

The look in Binghe’s eyes hurts far more, though. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t even notice the tears in his eyes until they’re spilling over, until his voice comes out as a broken warble.

“Years,”He whispers at last, aware he’s hammering the final nail into his coffin.

It’s only as his arm is yanked away, as muscle and sinew tears with a sickening squelch, that it occurs to him. The punishment protocol had worked by sharing his dreamscape with the original Bingge. It hadn’t summoned nightmares out of no where.

This wasn’t Bingge. He’d known it on sight. Had recognized it in the curlier hair, the taller build.

This wasn’t Bingge. This was his husband.

And this wasn’t a dream.

XXX

Binghe watches as the pathetic worm scrambles away from him, gasping and hiccuping through his tears. His remaining arm shakes against the jagged edge of his stump, trying to stem the flow of blood. It won’t do a damn thing. This is a dream world, and that form is just a representation of his soul.

“I’m sorry,”It begs, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Binghe forgive me- “

“Do not call me that,” He hisses. This parasite had squirmed its way in, had settled in and gotten comfortable in its place as his husband, but that spot would only ever belong to his Shizun, his rightful Shizun. Everything else… everything else had been a lie!

“No!,”The imposter gasped. Had Binghe spoken out loud? “No, it wasn’t! I really- I really tried to be honest, I- I-“

It gulped, face pale and wan, tears spilling over its cheeks. Its voice dropped to a whimper.

“I loved you. I thought you loved me too.”

Luo Binghe let out a harsh laugh. So that was the plan? Replace his husband and try and make him grow attached? Try to squirm into his heart, when it was already spoken for?

“I could never love a pathetic fake!,”He snarled. “I’ve been planning your death from the moment I learned!”

The imposter sucked in a sharp breath. They stopped scrambling away, simply sitting before him, shaking and curled into themselves.

It didn’t try to run again as he stepped forward. Not even as he grabbed its leg and tore it from its body. It screamed, and thrashed, but made no effort to pull itself away again.

Instead, the insolent wretch began muttering under his breath, a plea and a prayer in one. Begging for forgiveness, for the dream to end, for Binghe to wake him up. Pathetic. Had the imposter really fallen in love with him over the course of its tenure?

He dug his claws into the stump at its shoulder to stop it. The muttering broke into muffled cries, biting their lip as they struggled to hold them back. A habit he recognized from his husband. Disgusting, he thought, holding to the illusion for pity until the very last second.

“You’re just a cowardly weakling, leeching off of Shen Qingqiu. You fell in love with me? Then know this in your heart.”

Binghe dug his fingers in harder, harder, until his claws scrapped against the shattered bone of the socket and dug in. The parasite’s eyes nearly rolled back into its head as it jerked. Binghe lifted it off the ground by the bone, then held still until the worm caught its breath.

“I could never love the man before me. I would never have even looked at you twice had I known.”

Binghe expands his awareness to the dream world around him. From a greater distance, the soul of the imposter is more like a small flickering flame, a little glow between his hands, than a man.

It takes almost no effort at all, to close his fist around it and smother the flame.

XXX

Binghe wakes up in the morning, ecstatic to finally be done with this journey and desperate for love from his husband who he’s apparently not seen in years.

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t wake up with him.

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t wake up at all.

XXX

Anyway now that I’ve officially written a short version of it I want y’all to know that Shang Qinghua would be the one to tell him, after rushing over when he gets an alert that the account of User 002 was deactivated.

Binghe gets to metaphorically self-destruct, realizing everything he said and did was to his own husband and not an assumed imposter. The world shapes itself to Binghe’s wishes, and he still has access to the holy mausoleum, so he manages to bring back Shen Qingqiu. I debated having him bring back Shen Jiu instead but I love the protagonist of any book I read, and that includes Shen Yuan, so instead he brings back his husband whose heartbroken and runs off, with a new level of instinctive terror to go along with it. Binghe really does try to give him room, but that does neither of them good because Binghe drowns in his guilt and the confirmation of his husband’s fear, and Shen Yuan drowns in his heartbreak and confirmation of his husband’s rejection.

The happy ending comes after a slowburn of binghe groveling and breaking himself down(a la Lost and Found in Limitless Clarity) with a side of both being left with new insecurities to add to the existing ones post-canon.

(And if Binghe now dreams of the delicate flicker of a soul between his hands, now jolts awake to the reminder of how small it was, how easy to smother, well-

-it’s the least he deserves, isn’t it?)

[mjngs]

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗍 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝗂𝗇 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝗍𝗈 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖺,

͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝖻𝗎𝗒 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝖼𝖺𝗋 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝗒𝗈𝗎 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝖻𝗎𝗍 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝗂𝗍 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝗐𝗈𝗇'𝗍 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍 ͏ ͏͏ ͏𝗎𝗉 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ '𝗍𝗂𝗅 ͏ ͏͏ ͏𝗒𝗈𝗎 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁, ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁, ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁 ͏ ͏͏ ͏ 𝗆𝖾

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ( ͏ ͏ ͏͏𝖿𝗍. ͏ ͏ ͏͏ 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾 ͏ ͏ ͏͏)

[veerbles]

"He doesn't say goodbye. He just lets go."

goodbye at dawn.

[november-12th]

You'll be the prince and i'll be the ⠀princess

It's a love story, baby, just say "Yes"

[jordanstrophe]

Omg what I nice trope! For some reason I couldn’t find anything fresh abt with…

Would you mind writing a smaaall drabble/whatever you want for this trope? 🥺😭

[the trope in question] I was going to try and go smaaaall but then my hand slipped

CW: Medical whump, trauma, wound cleaning, hurt/comfort, recovery from torture

There was a look caretaker had never seen from whumpee before.

Mistrust

Fear

Agony...

"It's going to sting a bit, just take deep breaths" Caretaker said, shakily holding a antiseptic-drenched cloth.

Whumpee's eyes darted between caretaker and the cloth before letting out a breath. From that breath alone, you could tell just how much they were shaking.

"Try to lean your head back, please." Caretaker put their hand on whumpee's forehead and forced them to relax. It did rather little for how tense they were, and caretaker could feel it.

Blood from their leg started trickling down the bed. Time was growing short, and caretaker's hesitance was doing no one any good. They put a firm hand on whumpee's knee and pressed the cloth against the wound on their leg.

Somehow, it felt like -every muscle- in whumpee's body burned simultaneously.

"STOP!" Whumpee gasped, snapping up and clinging to caretaker's shoulders. "Caretaker stop- please stop," Whumpee heaved through gritted teeth.

"It's okay, It's okay... Hold on to me, everything is going to be alright... Ssshhh-" Caretaker soothed almost like a plea.

Whumpee acted as if they were being electrocuted. They could barely hold themselves still and were trying to curl their legs to their chest- specifically their wounded leg that felt like it was being slowly stabbed through all over again.

They could hear them- whumper's voice screaming at them, cursing them, laughing at them. The arm around them didn't feel like caretaker's, but whumper's.

"MAKE THEM STOP! Caretaker please, make them stop!" Whumpee suddenly cried, no longer able to hold anything behind a clenched jaw. Caretaker guided them back down onto the bed, finishing up what was left of the cleaning before dressing their injury.

Caretaker's chest was wracked with guilt, they pretended the tears on their face weren't there.

"It's almost o-over... You're okay, it's al-almost over, you're doing great," Caretaker repeated, feeling a ting of relief as the worst of it seemed to fade.

Whumpee let their leg relax with their knee over caretaker's elbow. Caretaker felt it and laid whumpee's leg down and brushed their hand over their hair.

''Are you back with me?" Caretaker asked, their other hand tracing over their face like they were scared to touch. Whumpee's eyes darted between unfocused, and fixated on caretaker. They stared blankly, before letting them close.

"Good... Rest is good." Caretaker huffed out of breath, adrenaline from their own body began to calm down and their hands started trembling.

Only then did they acknowledge their tears and dragged a hand down their face to wipe them away. They sank into a chair next to whumpee's bed and grasped their hand, the seemingly only safe thing to hold.

"You're going to be alright."

[cawonii]

...ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏✧ㅤㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏᪖.᪲.ᩤ᭔ㅤㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏♡̩͙.

[daenystheedreamer]

u know what REALLY makes me an insane asoiaf fan. not the targ geneology not the multiple generations long AUs no. its that i can tell the kettleblacks apart.....

[nayoungs-archive]

﹒ʬʬ , all's fair in love & poetry

[natelia-aldelliz]

Ghost gifts a single tiny ear loop to Soap one day. Says he noticed Soap had pierced ears. That rings keep from handling a gun or a knife properly. He doesn't make eye contact, tries to hide his face, even as he's already wearing his balaclava.

Soap blinks. Ghost has already given him gifts and only behaved that way for the very first one. He doesn't understand. The earring is very simple, but seems to be made of expensive material and not only covered with a thin leaf of gold.

"Didnae it come with another one?" he says, jokingly.

But Ghost flushes, turns his head, and lifts his mask, only enough for Soap to see the glinting of the other earring on his ear. Suddenly he understands that it's not simply a gift. Ghost favoured practicality, but he wanted to give him a ring.

He grabs his hand as it falls back down.

"Simon, what is this?" he asks softly, not daring to be hopeful just yet.

With his other hand, he reaches out to gently turn Simon's head back towards him. His cheeks and his nose are flushed, it makes the warmth of his dark eyes, generally hidden behind a sneer or a bored expression, undeniable.

He looks nervous. Johnny's heart is beating faster. Could it really be...?

"I know", Simon starts then pauses, uncertain. "I know I'm probably not what you thought you'd have, when you were younger" Soap wants to interrupt, to scoff, to protest that Simon is way better than anyone he could have hoped for, but doesn't. He never wants to cut off his love when he's barely starting to open up.

"I know that I'm not easy to be with some days, that I'm not friendly and easy going like you, like someone you'd deserved to be with." he continues, unconsciously pushing his face more into Soap's hand. "But... I love you, more than I thought I could, and I'd like... I'd like to be with you, for as long as you'd have me..."

Johnny's heart is soaring. He has no idea how to react. He'd have to get all the giddiness out first, and the moment doesn't seem appropriate for jumping around and squealing.

"Officially," Simon continues, voice quieter, out of breath. "If you want to."

A gigantic grin splits Johnny's face. All of his limbs are buzzing, he needs to stand up, to run, to explode something. But he's terrified to spook Simon so instead he just squeezes the hand he's holding rhythmically and moves his feet back and forth.

"Baby, are ye asking me tae marry ye?" Johnny says. He's pretty sure his voice is wobbly, but can't really hear it himself as the blood in his ears is louder than the rest.

Simon's eyes do something, what is visible of his face looks like he has an expression on but Johnny can't analyze it now, doesn't dare to see the hope in his eyes, the pleading in his brows.

"I... Yes, I guess I am," the love of his life says finally. "If you want to. You don't have to."

Soap can't keep himself in check any longer. He's making a high pitched noise, jumping up and down where he's seating on the bed, and throws himself at Simon.

"Of course ah fooking want tae!!!"

Simon lets out an excited giggle, swept in Johnny's mood, and tightens his arms around his lover. No, his fiancé.

This is the best day of his life. He just has to deal with this mission tomorrow, and then they can start to plan everything.

[spectacledraws]

doodled mostly undertale guys that I haven’t drawn in a while..🐌

[angelsdean]

Dean remembering Hell in Supernatural: Bobby Singer's Guide to Hunting.

(for context they're up against a Greek Goddess that is feeding on their memories--preferring the good ones--so Dean starts remembering all his worst ones to hurt her)

[mypastfrozenbehindglass]

the black dog being a phrase that means depression… her immediately playing clean and evermore… songs where she was depressed and felt okay after… thinking thoughts…

[mjngs]

𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝖾𝖽𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗈𝗇

𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗂'𝗏𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗈𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏𝗍𝗁𝖾 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ 𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ 𝗉𝗈𝖾𝗍𝗌 ͏ ͏ ͏͏ 𝖽𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍.

[astragatwo]

The new W Corp besties

[rorah]

Dimitri fire emblem. Almost one year living in my head, and many more coming  (ﾉ*ФωФ)ﾉ~