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upsidedowngrass · 1 year

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do yuo yave any more liam thoughts im delirious rn a d i need my boy. I need my boy.

i ALWAYS have liam thughts every day of my LIFE . they may not be esp collected bc i have many so i dont have specific ones ive planned to share BUT ill throw some of my thoughts on him in Bullet Point Form and may end up elaborating on a few in particular :) (lot of these may be more vague, and some r more just things ive had on my mind cus ive been planning stuff!!!!)

generally, i think liam stays in airys world for a while, yeah, but i think he gets the contestants out before 8 months. this is mostly bc of charlotte. BUT also, we know airy has been in this place for "at least a decade," but oscar ALSO says he was on the plane "at least a decade ago." so its unclear how long airy WAS there for (if we assume that one takes place in the 2010s, in 2020-its vague and im not sure if cheesys ever clarified- but no code by pearl jam came out in 1996, so if its 2010s, hes only been dead for a bit over ten years, and 2020 would mean somewhere between 1996-2010, and this ISNT accounting for how long he spent in the waiting room) but it seems? that it didnt take him. actually THAT long to figure out how to teleport people to and from the plane. it seems to have been one of the easier things he figured out! (aside from actually creating planets) and? airy was a trucker. he COULDVE had tech experience, and i think sometimes people overestimate how much exp liam would have with tech as a telemarketer, ill have to look that up, but like. hed DEF have more exp w computers, just based on profession, so id imagine at least INTERFACING would be easier. the point of this is that i dont think liam would take long to find out how to teleport people, esp not ten years. especially with as much nonstop effort he shows in the series (compared to airy, who was likely in no rush, though im sure rushing WOULD mess with the speed that liam would figure things out), i think hed figure it out way sooner than airy did, and thats not even TRULY accounting that airy couldve taken any amount of time to figure it out

continuing that, ive seen ppl say that the computer wouldnt be able to teleport him home, but if my theory that the kill command is actually just an offshoot of the code used to teleport people (which ive posted abt before, but to summarize, when characters die, their bodies remain, but when the kill command is used, their bodies disappear, as shown at the end of universe modulation) is correct, the computer isnt restricted just to the plane. i think the extent of its abilities are mostly reserved for the planets it makes, but i think it may have otehr functions outside of these (such as interdimensional internet access, apparently). the point of all of this is that i think hed be able to send everyone home eventually, and i think it actually makes SENSE for him to get home. i think being able to teleport himself back home would take way longer than teleporting the others, esp since he most likely has the base code for the others (and airy didnt seem to actually BE concerned w getting home. he was lonely, but i dont think it was home that he was concerned with), but i think hed get home eventually

on that note, ive also said before that my family hcs for him vary. i OFTEN depict him as a middle child mainly bc it gives him people whove been waiting for him to come back that arent just one coworker. BUT i do sometimes depict him as an only child . it depends on the day. BUT!!! i thnk no matter what, once he gets home, he stays with owen the first day/night back. i think hed move in w bryce and amelia and charlotte very genuinely, but i think this would happen after MANY months. maybe a year or so. he needs some time. i think in that time, he stays w owen, OR if im depicting him as a middle sibling i throw him w one or both of them

also i dont actually think they contradict canon. ik a lot of people sometimes see liam NOT going to family after getting home as an indicator that he has no close family but like. tbh i dont think it even mattered HOW close he was w any family. i think the moment he saw that he was presumed dead, any hope hed had that things would return to normal, if that even was on his mind, just disappeared. because he was Dead.there wasnt anything left because he disappeared, he died, and that was it. before he looks at the notes he just kind of. looks lost. because at that pt he doesnt HAVE an idea of what hes going to do. all hes thinking abt is that this is Fucked. and i dont think it had anything to do w being close to people, or having friends or family (though it does seem to be mildly implied that he WASNT close w that many people, but i dont think that rly has much to do w whether he has siblings. siblings arent always SUPER tight knit, tho i think they were all at least friends :) ). i think he just. didnt know what to DO because he doesnt have almost Anything to his existence anymore, he just existed one day then he didnt!!! and then after looking at the notes, he still was dead, but he could still do Something about the plane with whatever he had left, not in possesions, but of Himself

on the subject of how he responded to things, i think SO often about how he seems to respond to stress. thruout the series, he is shown responding to small AND major stressors, and ive dedicated my life to studying the minute details of Liam Behavior so that i can make sure i understand him As Much As Possible. and? he is soooo not loud. under any pressure, he just Stops doing things. like the end of ep 1 could be excused as shock, but there are SO many instances of him just sorta. Stopping, or at the very least Not speaking when stressed, just tuning things out (if hes not full on dissociating, but since hes also generally Quiet it CAN be hard to distinguish if he is or not, since sometimes he may just Not be talking. i still have yet to study him wrt this but i will eventually), theres even lighter examples of this, like him Not saying anything in ep 2 when everyones yelling at airy, or him passing by bryce in ep 13 and seeming to think that would work? he just. often responds to things by NOT responding to them. there are only a few instances where he deviates from this, such as in ep 2 when he yells at airy, in eps 10 and 13 when he yells at bryce, and the many many times he yells at airy thru eps 17 and 18. but what ties these all together is that what REALLY pushes him to go from quiet to loud is when people are Ignoring Vital Details. when they are Confidently sticking to smth thats Incorrect and WONT listen to him (which is a bit more subjective w bryce ofc, but its still Incorrect to him). i think this also can of course extend to morally incorrect, as shown in ep 18, but even then, i think the main catalyst for what he says there is desperacy. he isnt asking airy why owens on his computer because he doesnt know. liam can be reckless throughout one (which is HEAVILY influenced by stress), but hes not stupid. he KNOWS why owen was there. i think THAT was just. denial? a need to know why? i dont know what specifically the emotion is, but at that pt, airy is acting FAR beyond what liam can reason him to not do. and? liam DOESNT say anything when he tries to kill airy. liam yells when people are being illogical, or not listening. because he WANTS them to listen. but airy wont listen to him. ive said it before but ill say it 2 billion times more that liam trying to kill airy was NEVER abt anger. really? he was acting how he acts when STRESSED. when hes NERVOUS . he historically Stops talking when hes under a lot of stress, and yells when indignant or frustrated

this does influence how i try to depict him, because i dont think hes an esp angry person, but when people wont Listen i think THAT does make him mad (and i think its also why he doesnt go to people when he gets home. if he wanted to talk abt things, he wants to talk to people abt how they ARE, not a fake version that people will believe. i think him getting a therapist post-canon is very challenging because of this. he is very stubborn) but when hes stressed or nervous he seems way more likely to Stop doing anything, and its smth i try to take into account when writing him SO much. he CAN be scared and still talking n stuff, but if its too bad hes more likely to freeze up

man tho. people joke abt him fighting REALLY poorly in ep 18 but i think people forget that he is running on FUMES. airy has been chopping down trees for years, hes fine. but liam got to bryces house and slept til morning, and seems to have maybe slept a litttttle? in ep 13, but its not very clear. he may have just sat there til the coast was clear for him to steal bryces car. who knows. but THEN he crashed a car (NOBODY points out that he was limping. either he was very out of it or that guy injured his leg AGAIN. i dont think it was a breakage but he SEEMS like hes in pain and then forgets it). then died a bunch of times. spent a WHOLE day awake. then went to airys world. and is just around for a while, cries, talks to airy, and Likely sleeps a little til morning. or at least lays there. its ALSO not clear. and keep in mind, he JUST spent the week before nonstop hitchhiking with likely minimal food or water bc he... doesnt have money (which i dont think is needed in airys world. i think it and the plane maintain people who live there, but thats its own hc). that, and with the way i interpret how the waiting room heals injuries, his leg may not have fully healed (which airy DEF didnt help. you are NOT supposed to straighten out broken legs. it was better than nothing but that guys leg is NOT healed) similarly, i dont imagine his arm is doing much better. those last few parts CAN be set to the side since that IS just how i interpret the waiting room but even aside from those. all of this to say that when he is fighting airy i think he is VERY obviously Really Fucking Tired. like yeah of COURSE hes not going to aim an AXE well. this guy hasnt known rest in 7 months and KEEPS getting injured. OBVIOUSLY hes not gonna fight well!!! hell, hes never FOUGHT someone with an AXE before. i think hes a little inexperienced on that front too!!!!!!

OH YEAH. sleeping thing reminded me. i think he and amelia sleep on the floor so much out of habit. i think they could sleep ANYWHERE but also bc theyre both so used to shitty sleeping conditions, good sleeping conditions make them fall asleep SUPER fast. this eases w time but i think it happens a lot. i think for the first few months, if liam has one blanket he just goes wow! thats comfortable (falls asleep)

#ask #wow thought these might be short but literally these r SO long #i had to split the first one up even though these were SUPPOSED to be bullet points . but that one was basically 2 paragraphs #ANWYA i hope this is coherent!!!!#i think more specific questions make it easier for me to make my thoughts Contained but also i am NOT complaining #abt a reason to be able to talk a LOT abt MANY diff things abt liam #i LOVE to talk abt him i hope u enjoy these thoughts :)!!!!!

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revoltinglittleworm · 1 year

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i’ve been very slowly cutting things out of my life. i kinda feel bare right now in the sense that im very lonely and stagnant, not much going on, but im still open to vulnerability, change, and creation. i keep thinking about my future lately. i was doing pretty good at living in the moment but i have this creeping feeling that i need to figure some stuff out...

i’m not really sure about music anymore. i find it enjoyable to make. im proud of myself for what ive done, even if it is kinda shitty. ive heard myself grow musically and vocally over the past year. and im like this with painting as well. ive seen that ive grown a bit, but i still find what i make pretty mediocre. and im fair with myself, i realize ive only been doing these things for a very short amount of time.

the thing about painting is that with the process, its not something i always enjoy. sometimes i get the urge to start and then i do it and im like im not even having fun. like the motivation is there but the joy is not. i dont really get it tbh. i decided maybe the way i was approaching it and the techniques i was using was probably what was making it so burdensome. i have yet to try my new approach (which is a much more messy and flowing style) because ive been so busy with work and ive had absolutely no days off. luckily this week i have a bunch of time and im excited to do some art.

on the other hand, ive been writing my novel pretty steadily. almost everyday, but not quite. sometimes its a bit difficult to get into the mood but once i do i can write for awhile. especially on the train i find it pretty easy, and then i get to my stop and im disappointed because i wanted more time to write.

AND THEN, im working on fashion. i spread myself a little too thin, i think. the thing about fashion and writing is that they are both things that come very naturally to me. (unlike painting, and even less with music.) painting is something that i struggle with and i know i am decent at drawing, but when it comes to music, im completely in the dark with it. vocally, musically, structurally. i could of course teach myself, but i think the whole overwhelms me. its a lot to learn and do and while i feel excited about it at times i cant tell if its because i feel like i need to do it because of an identity thing, or if i genuinely really love it. most of the time i think i do it because im like, well wouldnt be really cool to be an musician and have an album and music videos and perform? and like right now, yeah, that does sound fun as hell. but occasionally i will feel indifferent. or like its just not for me.

but back to fashion, im enjoying it, as little work as ive put into it. i want more time to work on it because what i have done ive enjoyed. i think the thing that triggers all these thoughts in me so often is capitalism... in an ideal world id have all the time to do everything i want, and no pressure at all to feel like i need to do things because of money, success, etc... i could just do them because i love them. its extremely hard for me to see past the capitalist lens. i want to be able to tell if something is right for me or if im just coming about it wrong. over the years my ocd mind has been so plagued by this way of thinking that i feel like ive hardly gotten anything done at all. im really tired of it, honestly. the only good part is that ive crossed a bunch of stuff off my list of things that i thought were right for me but actually arent. like acting for example, ive fully decided that isnt for me, lol.

anyway. i just needed to share and i forgot my journal at home so i had no other place to put all this.

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96xie · 2 years

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stepping back

i think this is a topic that was bound to come up sooner or later but i think its kinda good that it was brought up so i can rethink some things. im veryyyy vocal about not having kids. everybody should expect that i will not be popping a baby out of me. nope. like have you seen the state of this world? have you seen how expensive it is to raise one?? how your mental peace is gone? how theres really no time for yourself? i love and value my alone time and peace so much like ... i really cant be sacrificing that. i can help raise and take care of my friends and family’s babies, like i can definitely do that but at the end of the day im able to have time for myself.

i thought about being a foster parent or possibly adopt but like even those arent forsure. i just know i will not be raising a baby !!! also my mental state is so whack like, im still recovering from the trauma my parents had inflicted on me and im just so worried that what if i unintentionally treat my child the same way my parents had done to me? i would hate that so much. im still learning to love myself and to honor my body, its so difficult.

he brought up how he would be a great dad and HONESTLY he would be !! and that kinda triggered me cuz i already implied tht i would just raise dogs and stuff. and yeah, made me a bit upset because i do like him and id like a future with him but if he wants kids and i dont, why should i continue to pursue him? like im just gonna disappoint him in the future, should i just like end it now? and now im disappointed because all these months made me believe like ~i feel like we’ll have a future together since he’s asking me to wait for him and all these stuff~ and now im rethinking it. like ive see so many stories where couples that have been together for yearssssss break apart because one wants kids and one doesnt and that makes me SO upset. ive seen how broken my parents were and i dont want that that to happen to me. im so used to disappointments that im so well guarded and im preparing myself to get away from heartbreaks. and i just want to nip this in the bud so i dont have to stress over it in the future, ya know? iono im just. ugh really. i dont want to be heartbroken in the future, i want to prevent that. and this sucks cuz YA KNOW i like him alot but if our ideas dont align, why bother trying? at the same time, we’re still early in the talking stages i guess.... i mean 7 months is kinda ..... yeah ... i mean anyways theres intentions of getting serious but i guess i can reserve this convo in person, if we ever get there.

i should just let live. maybe go on a date or two. i shouldnt be placing all my eggs in his basket. my friend something the other day that made me upset: “truthfully its gonna be hard to find someone who doesnt want kids either” and it dealt a blow on me. like ... do i have to accept that ill be alone in this lifetime? obviously alone doesnt equate to lonely but like ... am i meant to not have a lover who doesnt share the same ideals as me? yeah ... i guess thats it. i should have fun in the meantime

i need to step back, relax and just not stress out over this. yet .... i am SO stressed. im just tired of dating. im tired of wearing my heart on my sleeve. :(

#siiiiiigh i rly thought it was going well but maybe i shouldnt stress out over this too much

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ketavinsky · 7 months

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I like the house analogy a lot. I’ve never had any long term friendships, I tend to drift in and out of people’s lives. I don’t seem to make meaningful connections or leave an impact on anyone the way they do for me. It definitely makes me feel like wandering. If I had it my way I’d live nomadically, packing up and leaving anytime I got too familiar with a location. Maybe it’s a bit of a self-sabotage but I never learned how to be okay with being known. I think I regret deleting the pictures but not for me. I have trouble with memories so I regret losing the parts of my friends but I have no regrets about my own image. I’ve never had a strong sense of self; I can’t recognize myself in pictures or mirrors. I hate looking at pictures of me because it feels wrong in the back of my mind, like something is off or missing. Being trans only made that more pressing for old pictures. I’m trying to learn to take more pictures now for memory sake, mostly of places I go or people I meet rather than myself though. Have you found people you fit with yet or are you still wandering too? I suppose if I’m gonna keep bothering you I could maybe sign off? -N

hullo N! youre not bothering me but i apologise for the long response times. i have a weird thing about only responding to messages when i feel like... i would be able to give an appropriate dedicated/interested answer..... like. i dunno i kind of see online shit as the last frontier of non performative interaction so i try not to be disingenuous in ways that make sense to me as often as i can. esp on this site. the viscera site. anyways. that aside. i get what you mean when you say like... you dont feel like you have an impact on anything. obviously i cant comment on anything goin in your life but i do... i do understand the sentiment. i got a friend who's a big wanderer, real nomadic, just wants to travel and travel and circle back every so often like hes some kind of planet goin round on this massive orbit but.... im not sure about you but the concept intimidates me. not the wandering i suppose but the lack of security like- what do i do if something goes wrong? what do i do if i need somebody? what do i do if its still and silent and i cant bear it and ive been swept away to some place and past all the dancing and the gorgeous ephemerality and the wraithlike presence what do i do if i need somebody? you know? would appreciate your thoughts.

i get what you mean with the photos. i also deleted a lot of my photos. even when i was a kid like real little i felt a deep sense of nauseous disgust almost when i looked at photos of myself i always felt like even in pictures where we were all like 8 9 10 years old and playing in the grass that it was immediately noticeable that i was different in some irreconcilable way and i couldnt stand the idea of anyone else noticing it. i dont. i dont know why. i can kind of circle around what i think is why (?? does that make sense) but i still dont know where the feeling comes from. do you? i feel like all the pictures i see of myself are different actors and i think thats because at any given moment im always really just staring at myself from some outside voyeur pov. it's a little more manageable now but when i turned 23 i began to realise how... well. virulent? harmful? destructive? it was to my sense of... self. i dont know. what's it like fr you?

now i wish i could say that id found my people and after so long of feelin so lonely everythings okay now but this year has been tough and its only just started. do you ever miss times in your life that were really horrible wherein you were incessantly miserable, for the ability to feel? that's how it is. i oft find myself revisiting memories with people who were objectively not good for me and my love for them was in a way destroying me and every single day was some fucking trial but i miss the certainty of... knowing who i was in those times. what i was. ive been writing about that a lot. i have a paragraph somewhere here that vaguely mentions it but i have to immerse myself in the feeling to write my book shit so i just think about it all the time, really, all the time without end. fair warning there for lots of weepy waxing on and on over Just Stuff That Happened. i think now i have people that are good to be around and i love them deeply and i think i can trust that they love me but each day it feels like the chasm between me n them widens you know? and you ever feel like sometimes people dont really know the things that you know? at least not in a way that matters?

#dellete #anonymous

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nosoulsheresorry · 10 months

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if life isnt about death

and it is, as they say, about finding and molding your own meaning

what happens when your meaning leaves

when it walks away from you without a note

without anything to hold onto?

because i dont want memories

i want a person, here

and i want them to hear me

and i cant i cant i just cant do this not now not ever really

what do you do when you start spiralling again?

what do you do when you can pinpoint every repeating warning sign?

what do you do when this time theres no one here to stop you?

when no one is around to talk you out of it?

when you thought you could handle your own only to notice all-too-late that youre spiralling again

do you reach out?

you only want one specific person your one specific meaning

but its gone now without a trace without a return label

do you mother yourself?

you cant, thats just one more sign one more repetition

youve done this before, you know where it leads

do you call a professional?

with what money

and what time

and what will

and what white woman this time

do you get high and fulfill that prophecy that you once got so close to?

with what money

youll steal

and you wont feel shameful

its hard to when everything depends on the 20 extra bucks you need

there is no protocol for this

and if there was

it would not end with

“get under the sheets again, phone in one hand and wax in the other”

everything feels so absurd when you get like this doesnt it?

everything feels ridiculous, silly, unreal, unimportant

the only thing important is saving yourself

how do you do that?

there is an urgency here

like i need to figure this out right here right now

because i dont want to know what happens if i dont

because last time, i didnt have to know what happens

because last time, i didnt save myself, i wasnt left to my own devices

last time, i got saved

i got grounded

and im not looking to get fixed

i just want to make it all bearable

i want to calm down

i want to be able to sleep again

i want to be able to be sober again

i want to be able to be sober, there is no again

what do you do

how do you alleviate it

how do you make it tolerable

because it feels like everything is crashing down

it feels like its been overdue and now im running behind

it feels like if only someone could carry this with me

it feels like if only my meaning hadnt jumped out my window

it feels like no matter what i do, ill always end up here in the end

if feels like maybe its selfish to drag someone else into this

if i cant handle living through it

if i am here wishing for a way to plan it

then how can i expect someone to stand by

how i can i justify putting someone through a fraction of what im going through

if they arent planning, they shouldnt have to hear of someone planning

you hate to hear peoples sob stories about it

why give anyone yours?

but id give him mine in a heartbeat

and there i am again

same old tired lonely place

building a mythical boy

loving a mythical boy

blaming his material counterpart for not measuring up

so what now

we’ve circled all the way around

so what now

if not a boy, if not a therapist, if not drugs, and if no not ever yourself,

then what now

now i go to sleep

i wake up tomorrow and brush my teeth

i find a reason to brush the tears off

to see the blanket as what it is, immobile

and i hope and pray that my reason doesnt end up circling back to the boy

and i go to sleep

#hold onto hope like i hold my worst grudges #damn april was rough

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ask-vinyl-scratch · 14 years

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10/26/2010

haha wow doin stuff with Tavi really took like two hours huh. is she training me to finally get my sleep schedule back on track???

ok ok i probably got like an hour before she calls me back so I gotta get as much writing done in my diary as I can before... oh god.

I, Vinyl Scratch, am not turning into a nerd, am I?

no. no im not. no im just writing in my about what I'm doing because Tavi gave me the advice and I like it and it helps me realize more what im doing.

Ok ill write about the days that led up to me being in Canterlot, in Octavia's old bedroom (or in her bathroom right now), rebelling against her parents in the best! way!! POSSIBLE!!!!!!!

22th: i slept all day through this one bc even though a ton of the ponies from Pinkie's party left before 2 am like a buncha normies, and despite everything that can be going wrong and lame be happening doing, Pinkie, Berry, and a cool new mare I met called Derpy raved quite successfully with me until Berry's filly and Derpy's foals hadda go to school and we decided to just end the party. i woulda liked to have a party go on from night till noon though...

though considering the fact that I only barely woke up in time for me and Tavi to make our train to Canterlot, maybe it was for the best. not how i wanted to spend Luna's glorious night, packing feverishly so i could get on a train to get closer to the Jealous Sun, but it was inevitable.

tbh dont tell Tavi but I totally forgot that we were even going to Canterlot and meeting up with Lyra and Bon Bon. train ride was fine, but strangely (not in a bad way) Tavi was a lot more affectionate, which was weird at the time but makes a lot more sense what with what was gonna happen later on.

23th: we finally met Lyra and Bon Bon in Canterlot. feel pretty bad for Lyra, gottin to have to go back and forth and back and forth between Ponyville and Canterlot and tons of other places just to do her concerts or whatever. I guess I can relate since Tavi usually has to go to Canterlot a ton. while Im stuck in ponyville. gets lonely a lot. luckily we both somehow get the energy to send letters to each other every day were apart, but i live in fear of a day when that might stop. i mean, are we fillyfriends because of some temporary physical attraction or because of who we are?

anyway we were goin around out. I was chattin with Bon Bon bout liquor candies. I told her id hook her up with a nice mare if she'd attempt to make some. (Spoiler alert: she and nope im not going to spoil it, I'll just talk about it on the 24th day section). I noticed that Tavi and Lyra weren't talkin much and were acting all aloof and uptight and not at all affectionate and like the snooty Canterlotians but I chalked it up to them being natives.

that was until Bon Bon saw my face and told me that theres like....... a whole thing in Canterlot about being a fillyfooler. Apparently they still think that Celestia only wants couples of one mare and one stallion, for making more foals for her glory or something. well what the buck does that make me then???????????? what's so wrong about me being with Octavia, and then adopting a couple dozen fillies that need the love and attention instead of making some that didnt ask to be made?????? whatever. more proof that Luna is based and C celestia is cringe.

Also apparently Bon Bon didnt know that Lyra was a fillyfooler, which was something I was going to soon rectify. we had donuts at Donut Joe's yknow and then we went to a few fancy bistros for their bars. I got Lyra drunk enough to tell me that old story that she was only able to get into her place on the orchestra because she 'befriended' the mom of the old conductor Allegro Accelerando and threatened to become his second mom if he didnt put her on. Bon Bon was real impressed with all the graphic detail and I was laughing my flank off at both Lyra's funny as buck story and Bon Bon's honest reaction but Octavia was mortified that someone might overhear us and throw us out, not to mention our reputations and careers.

Well not that us Ponyville mares had anything to be afraid of but in the interest of making Tavi feel comfortable I felt that I should take Tavi back to her hotel room while stealthily suggesting Lyra's drunk flank take Bon Bon to her own >:)

but when we got to the room Octavia broke down in tears. it was frankly disturbing for myy marefriend who didnt even cry that much when i was in danger of being overdose on cocaine. shes just... usually so calm and reserved.

i asked what was wrong but she just told me to love her and keep loving her, she begged me to keep loving her and being with her for all time, but most of all, she begged me to never stop being me. So i just hugged her and put her on the couchbed andtold her that she needs some of the Berry Punch/Pinkie Pie Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster to giver her some rest and she just laughed and shook her head goodnaturedly and it looks like that calmed her down. the weed brownie i also got her to eat probably helped too

i was really concerned for her and i didnt really know what to do. i remember having a lot of trouble with why she was so sad, since it seemed to be something more than just the dislike of fillyfoolers in Canterlot. of course, i know now that it was because we had to meet her parents the next day.

24th: yeah so we woke up pretty early in the day (noon) and we had a couple hours before the necessary dinner date with Tavi's parents that she finally told me about and I convicned her to take me with her. We were gonna hang out with Lyra and Bon Bon more since the 23thrd was a blast and tons of fun but unfortuantely they were a little preoccupied at the moment.

Lyra was having some trouble with her record player in her room (;<

and Bon Bon was having to make some liquor candies for me >:)

so we just went to a Barns & Nobles a little bit and then hung out at a ma and pa book store/coffee place for a few hours. Octavia seemed much better, much less uptight and even willing to hug me in public. I still could read her like one of the books and I knew she was conflicted about something but I wanted to give her some time to get through it. well imagine my surprise when she leans over and kisses me right in front of a passing old mare!!!!!!! an old mare who blushed and ran away from the two of us.

I was immediately freaking out since she coudl like lose her job right?? but she puts a comforting hoof on my shoulder and says somethign that I cant remember at the moment because sweet loving Luna did I go to sleep at a horrible time last night (8. BUCKING. P.M.) But it was probably something about not wanting to hide who we are, especially to her parents.

Then we met her parents.

This is not a discussion for the diary.

We did not fight.

(but you better believe I whipped their flanks!!!)

25th: lol haha today (or I guess last night?????????) was a blast. we just basically, y'know went on a sUPER CUTE FILLYFOOLER DOUBLE DATE AND GJKASVJSLKFJDC

AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

dont make fun of my hoofdrawing skills im getting better also

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Are we taking things too fast? I dont know if she's comfortable with it... I dont even know if me and Tavi are coming to the same conclusions. i mean nopony comes faster than Vinyl Scratch! . ok ok ok I just don't know if she's comfortable with it, I mean, she seems so uptight a lot of the time but that's just her, baby! Well. No, actually, she isnt' uptight once you get to know her but in the meantime... Though it seems like one part of her's not tight when I trot into the room! Hey-oh! i dont eeven know what that means.

ok ok ok ok.ok. So. Last night Tavi kinda maybe spilled the beans to Lyra and Bon Bon that... ok im not gonna put that in my journal cuz i feel like its memorable enough for me to remember and i dont want to take the chance that anyone actually reads these.

So idk idk i gotta discuss this with her tomorrow (OR LATER TODAY????)

fun fact: WERE DOING IT IN HER PARENTS HOUSE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

ok bye i dont need sleep i need a mare

#mlp #vinyl scratch #mlp ask blog

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lucifish · 4 years

Text

#this week has been real rough on me #ive been so goddamn emotional and so against myself #another guy id been talking to for a couple months has been ghosting me #3rd in a row w the same scenario #and ive been feeling extra lonely #and tonight seeing sk at alyssas place w a new girl #like im over him and we’ve both moved way on since whatever we were #but at a certain point i was just sad #like everyone gets to enjoy someone else and i dont #i go home to myself and everyone else is able to curl up in bed next to someone else #every guy only likes me for a few months then decides to disappear #and whats so wrong w me that so many people do the same thing #personal

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zv5x · 2 years

Note

ik i answered way too quickly i have notifs on for u >_< buut id love if yan eddie is a creepy coworker of the reader, & starts telling people that they are dating bc hes so delusional, then starts holding the reader’s hand and insists on doing coupley things, meanwhile the reader has never even had a full conversation w him?

im so bad at formatting requests i hope this makes sense! go crazy i luv ur work

Yandere!Edward Nashton • Reader (Romantic Workplace Scenero)

(sry for no cool title I'm full and uninspired) but whhhhhattt? you have notifs on for my blog? That's so cool!!!!!! You guys are spoiling me with the praise. I'm happy to write this for you!! (Also I totally didn't ask for unwilling reader sceneros so I could have an excuse to use this image I just found shhh) tw // workplace harassment , stalking , delusional and toxic mindsets , use of the yandere trope , implications of future violence , violation of privacy , one sided affections , mentally abusive relationships

"They didn't tell me the two of you were dating." The coworker whom just spoke let out a small "hmm" sound at the excitement of the man giving such news, and she sat twirling the pen in her hands around as the others among the group shuffled in place out of an awkward tension unseen by Edward himself.

"I didn't even know the two of you spoke before." Another chimed in with a quiet voice, almost able to be classified as a mumble, many of them however were too nervous to confront his mistake head on, fearful of the repercussions of such. Still, he sat smiling, kicking his feet in his chair in a way one would expect from a lovestruck teen girl rather than an adult man. His roundish face brightened at the very thought of his alleged partner, and he continued rambling about the aspects of their picture-perfect relationship up until the group turned to face the sound of an opening door.

Desperate for a distraction from what they thought to be the ramblings of a very sick man, their thankfulness at the new distraction was quickly ripped from their hands as they identified the one who gave them it. It was you, none other than, and Edward quickly jumped out of his seat to greet you. The look on your face said it all. Your coworkers could see the clear shock and confusion on your face, being faced by a man practically bouncing around you like a dog greeting its owner that just returned home after a long day.

The shock was clear on your face, and your brain was rattled with questions and concerns. You've never even seen this man smile before, let alone show this much excitement towards anything. He's never even spoke to you before, and now he was welcoming you to work, babbling about how thankful he was you got here safely. At one point, he went to grab your hand, and you pulled back with a nervous laugh. You turned, giving a desperate look to your coworkers, and their looks of fear, confusion and pity did nothing to answer your questions or at the very least ease your mind.

Edward tried pushing down your reluctant body language, he really did. But the way you ripped your attention away from him, even depriving him of the affection he tried to give you, it was enough to make his bright green eyes shine with confused tears.

"I'm sorry..." You said, trying your best to be polite. The cruelty of making your workplace an uncomfortable place was cruel to you, but your next words would be ten times as cruel to the man trying his very best to grab ahold of you. "Do I....know you?"

You could have sworn you heard your coworkers inhale, those words you just spoke were what they feared the most. They knew from the way his body trembled while speaking of you that he was horribly unstable, and many of them scurried away from their circle to return to their own workspaces, the sound of keyboard clicking acting as a backing track to Edward's steadily widening eyes. You no longer had an audience, many of them fearful at the hypothetical sight of a lonely, sick man scorned.

"Why...why would you...baby?" He rambled, the words he wanted to say unable to come out of his mouth. "Why are you acting like this?" His confusion was clear, and you couldn't understand what he could have possibly been confused about. You never saw him before in your personal life, and that was a fact your brain couldn't help but repeat over and over again, like a broken record a theorist is trying to decode rather than listen to for pleasure.

"What happened? Why aren't you-"

"I don't know who you are, sir. Please leave me alone." Professionally, you turned him down. He was clearly wrong mentally in some sort, so you tried your hardest to make your rejection as clear and concrete as humanly possible. Still, it didn't seem to resonate with him, and he seemed to stumble in place as he stood stunned. Looking back, he watched helplessly as you waved to your waiting coworkers.

Backwards glances and whispers were all he was given as a passing gift, and his breathing stayed unstable as he watched all of you socialize. You seemed...too friendly with them, and they seemed too friendly with you. The way one of them put their hand on your shoulder as the two of you laughed at a joke one of you made, and Edward's heart broke at the sight of your angelic smile which you freely handed to someone else. Someone that wasn't him.

Edward felt like his entire body was giving up on him. He didn't understand. Where was this sudden distance coming from? You were so happy with him before. All those times you got undressed slower than you usually did, all those times you rested at the far side of your bed, all the times you sung in the shower, Edward has no reason to believe it wasn't for his eyes and his eyes only.

He could barely even rationalize the steps he was taking, sulking his way to his own work desk as your words haunted his brain. Was it possible for love to kill a man? Stomp his spirit, enhance his bloodlust? Perhaps it was. If it came to such, he'll plant each of those coworkers that dare put their filthy hands on you in an early grave, as suited vengeance for the attempted murder of his love.

Fantasies about a world where you reacted differently danced along his brain. Maybe in another universe you wrapped your arm around him protectively, proudly calling him your precious boyfriend, kissing him on the side of his head as you spit venom at those who spoke of him the way they did, labeling a freak under their breaths among themselves and isolating him beyond what he thought was possible.

The pen almost broke in his hand from rage. How dare those rats spit upon the flower that was his adoration, how dare they rip you from his grasp and taint you. How dare they. This realization, it was enough to make him giggle to himself. Isolation was something he was more than experienced with, so what would hurt if he had you live that isolation with him.

Your brain has clearly been tampered with. You believe yourself to be a stranger rather than a fiance, and he knew precisely who was to blame for that. Edward would gladly have their blood stain the walls, and without hesitation he'd put their heads on pikes and place them along your garden, and then you'll know how much he finally loves you. You'll run into his arms, apologizing to him. He'll tell you that he's not upset, it wasn't your fault you were under mind control. Your brainwashing is your excuse, and that's what's stopping him from someday planting kisses upon your headstone.

For once in his life, everything felt like it was going to be alright. He knew that. He just had to clean up a bit. That's all.

You'll understand soon enough.

#dano riddler x reader #paul dano x reader #paul dano x you #paul dano #paul dano riddler #the riddler x reader #riddler x you #the riddler #riddler x reader #riddler #edward nashton x you #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere male #x reader #dano!riddler

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kerink · 2 years

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im so full of coconut shrimp and ready to be friends

1. Is there a climax event in wtse — if so what is it? If not, what is the general progression of each character? How is it marked? Is it more character driven, plot driven or balanced? Like are they propelling events or are the events propelling them?

2. Is Night Vale a place of healing in wtse, or a place of enabling? Can it be both? Should it be?

3. What do Jon and Martin do in town when they’re not vibing in the Palmer household?

4. Who are they drawn to in Night Vale (excluding carlos and cecil) and why? Friends? Neighbors? How long does it take for them to be accepted by the town?

5. How do you characterize each main character — since there are varying ways people interpret them all — like if they were all presented with the same dilemma how would they react?

6. What is the thing jon and martin struggle with the most in Night Vale? What do they excel at there?

7. Are Cecil and Carlos a positive, neutral or negative example for them (ie. they’ve been together longer and jon and martin are a newer relationship at the end of tma etc etc)

8. How does Esteban respond to Jon and Martin? When do they have their baby if they have one in wtse?

9. What’s their living situation like? Do they all share the house — do they divvy up space? Id imagine living dynamics btwn them are crazy and hard.

10. What do Jon Martin Cecil and Carlos think about eachother at the beginning of your story and what do they think abt each other by the time the plot (main dilemma, moral etc) is concluded?

obvi u dont gotta answer all of them hehe but here u go kiss kiss

ok here we go

there's no climax because there's no narrative end. wtse is over when we get bored with it. however, each act has it's own main conflict that divides the story:

jmart settling down in night vale

cecil going missing and getting reeducated

jmart getting engaged and the four of them getting into a relationship

jon in desert bluffs too

having kids

reconnecting with tma's universe

there is, however, a primary narrative theme which is "do you need to be human to be a person?" can entities be held to the same morals, laws, and standards as humans? should they be? do they need to be in order to be worthy of respect and dignity?

for character progression: jon goes from starving to satiated and martin goes from clouded to opaque. cecil goes from permeable to aware and carlos goes from unmoored to grounded

plot driven i guess, we explore the ideas we think are interesting

2. Is Night Vale a place of healing in wtse, or a place of enabling? Can it be both? Should it be?

it's both

jon works to shake off his guilt and self-blame and is able to settle into a peaceful identity. martin really, really hates this because the crux of that is that jon stops being human. jon gets to a place of accepting himself and in accepting himself he accepts that he is a part of the beholding above everything else, and that in being a new animal he has a new nature. a lot of jon's regressing comes from fear of how martin will perceive and potentially reject him. jon still doesn't trust his own judgement and relies heavily on cecil's input, and unfortunately cecil isn't a good north to set your compass to.

martin is still a being of the lonely, but he sees himself as an avatar very differently. whereas jon got leitner's lecture about how an ant may perceive a person (e80) to help him understand himself vs the beholding vs cecil, martin never got any such insight. he sees himself as a person with powers, and he uses those powers sure, but he sees them as a tool not a part of his personhood. this is the main reason why martin struggles to understand what jon and cecil have going on, he doesn't see himself as the lonely manifest. he feeds his god and it gives him abilities, that's it.

i have a dedicated post for martin's healing

i don't think martin really gets "enabled" in any sense. the confrontational aspect of his personality that was blossoming at the end of tma really takes root here, but that's really it beyond the typical way night vale drives people a little insane. it's not until basira, melanie, and georgie show back up that how martin has changed for the worse becomes apparent. martin plays the straight man role in wtse, until he's compared to the girls who are not only untouched by night vale's madness but are free of fear entities entirely.

3. What do Jon and Martin do in town when they’re not vibing in the Palmer household?

we've only just really started exploring this. we've been more interested in the 4-way dynamic. the only concrete thing is that martin becomes friends with earl and steve and they hang out and do guy things.

jove's input:

Martin joins Carlos for a while as a scientist aid, and proves himself to be competent in the face of a nonsense world. He’s a beloved member of the town, I think we have him going to the hipster joints around?? Martin goes… around. Like average amounts around, he knows people and they know him by face, not just name, and he formulates relationships with people. Jon, outside of the polycule, doesn’t have very many relationships. Like Cecil, Jon has sort of lost his personal identity to instead dwell on his own personhood in relation to what he is. He was never a people person in the first place, and doesn’t like meeting people if it’s not necessary. If he goes out, it’s generally to stores, out to eat, or he was invited out by one of the other members of the relationship. For a while Carlos studied Jon at his lab, so that’s a place I guess. I think if you can imagine Cecil doing something, you can imagine Jon tagging along, unless it takes more spoons than he’s got stored up. Benny has mentioned that occasionally Jon will go hunting on his own, but I don’t imagine he does that very often. Jon is a group creature, so he’s usually a pair character, not a standalone.

4. Who are they drawn to in Night Vale (excluding carlos and cecil) and why? Friends? Neighbors? How long does it take for them to be accepted by the town?

we've touched on the friends thing a little here and here. the problem is, most of the side characters in wtnv are so underdeveloped that we just don't really think about them very much. there are more than who are mention we're INTERESTED in discussing, but time will tell

it takes a long time for them to be anything close to accepted. they get interlopered hard until cecil publicizes they're dating. martin gets it worse because he's out on his own more, and once jon starts unlatching from cecil he's starting to hunt and that makes people scared of him. jon hunting in wtse is nothing compared to jon hunting in tma, because there's enough latent fear that jon doesn't have to tear it out of people. that being said, he still does have victims whose nightmares he haunts. it's not enough to ostracize him but it's enough that he's considered dangerous if he focuses his attention on you too specifically.

the closest they come to being night valean is after the kids are born.

5. How do you characterize each main character — since there are varying ways people interpret them all — like if they were all presented with the same dilemma how would they react? / 6. What is the thing jon and martin struggle with the most in Night Vale? What do they excel at there?

i outsourced these to jove

Cecil struggles with vices. I affectionately call him the king of vices, because Cecil himself has lost his grip on things pretty thoroughly. He feels like his only reason for being here is to be of use to someone, and he has for a long time now. He loves his job as the voice, but uses that to erase his own personal identity; preferring to reference himself in third person or just hint on the fact that the story is his own. Cecil has too many lifetimes of things to remember, and too willingly forgets things he finds inconvenient or difficult. The downside of this is that when you get rid of the bad you tend to lose the good with it. With very shallow grasp of reality, self importance, memory, and personhood, Cecil tends to play up his role of voice, often losing himself in the role. He's become a gawky exaggeration of a persona. He's the outlandish version of what he always wanted as a child, several hundred times removed from itself. His entire being is a Statement. Something he wanted to hear, when he was saddled with guilt for looking at football boys in their uniforms from his bedroom window as a child. But, in the time of disposal and replacement of his identity, that's what's left. He's a statement. And we can all hear it. It leads to manic mood swings, and a deep need for approval. He is willing to hurt himself to reach expectations of him and doesn't know when to just Stop. He's an unmitigated force, and doesn't know when to slow down. He, rightfully, thinks he's the only thing keeping this town together, and it's a lot of pressure to put on a guy who really is very tired. Carlos is much beloved by the entire town, and is meant to be a stabilizing force to the chaotic force of the radio. When nothing makes sense, and Cecil is scared, he knows he always has someone a phone call away who will hear him, reassure him, and provide a solution. Carlos is a child's idea of a scientist, but that's what Cecil needs. Where Cecil's world has exaggerated into comical nonsense, Carlos has become a comic scientist, who mimes his profession enough, that he's become a safety net to Cecil in times of chaos. The down side to this is the fact that Carlos is very curious about a lot of things. He forgets to be there if he has a project he's working on, and it leaves Cecil neglected. While Cecil and Carlos fill in the missing spots in each other, he gets so wrapped up in his work that he forgets to actually be there. He forgets to come home, and neglects his position if there are conflicting interests while he's focusing on his own projects, and when he finds something he's curious about the lack of common sense in the town drives him to go further than is acceptable. The flipside to this is how Carlos is a private person who hates how Cecil discusses their personal life on air. He has a rule against it in place, to protect his and Esteban's privacy. He holds a lot of secrets in his coat, he's terrified of getting out. It's not uncommon for Carlos to sit in his lab waiting for the other shoe to drop and all the things he's covered up over the years to come out. He's scared of the things he's done coming out, and scared of failing Cecil, and disappointing him. He's always been his idealized perfect Carlos and he just... doesn't know how to be that for him. Not entirely. He's not perfect, and he's scared that one day Cecil will realize that, and everything that has become reality for him will unravel as easily as every other nonsense thing in this town.

Jon struggles with restraint in night vale; he gets caught up in Cecil's pace, and tends to lose himself in it. He doesn't restrain himself if he doesn't have to, and when he's faced with something he wants to do, and everyone else is opposed to it, Jon is very likely to do it anyways but this time ~in secret~. So when faced with the renowned vice king, Jon tends to lose track of morality and humanity, to let his monster loose. That's not who Jon is, though, and he faces severe regret when he realizes his actions still have consequences, even in this dreamlike almost unreal world he's found himself in. Jon's tendency towards accidentally hurting others with unwitting selfishness, means that Jon suffers in relationships and bonds, when he thinks he's doing the right thing. That said, Jon thrives in self identity, and exploration. Jon very literally is the one who just fits in with the town. He joins in, and feels like a cohesive member who..... may have always been there? With the town supporting his more monster side, Jon thrives. He has a great support system, and almost always has several eyes open. He's comfortable, and happy, with what he has become. Jon very much enjoys not being othered for who he is, and spends his time in Night Vale exploring himself, and his desires, in a way he never considered before. He's really come into himself. Martin struggles to find the town palatable. Martin has always been the guy who asks people to talk things out but never really wanted to discuss things; he's not willing to relent to the more monstrous side of things. Martin has a black and white view of things, and resents that he feels like the bad guy for wanting things that he feels SHOULD be common sense. Martin doesn't meld into Night Vale, and feels alienated for it, and feels like he's being forced to accept and to be a lot of things that he's not. Martin feels rejected and abandoned by Jon, when he spent so long pining after him, only for him to suddenly get wrapped up in so many things. There is a huge communication gap, and Martin's own suspicion of things monstrous makes him feel like he's stranded on his own while his boyfriend is unraveling his humanity faster than he can grasp ahold of that driving rope to not be left alone. Classic lonely. Martin also becomes the reliable figure for the town. Jon melds in as someone who has always been there, but in a way that exasperates the entity in him. Jon fits in like a dragon, and Martin won't just sit down and accept every unfair thing. It makes things hard for him for a while, but in clinging to his morals and humanity he ends up with a lot of real friendships with substance for it. He's made a niche for himself in the community, and is respected for it. If there is something going on in Night Vale that doesn't make sense, or you need to vent, or you need comfort, it will be Martin you go to. He's respected for the things he knows, and the sincerity in him that you so rarely see in Night Vale. Martin somehow ends up filling in that neurotic illegal space old woman Josie once held.

7. Are Cecil and Carlos a positive, neutral or negative example for them (ie. they’ve been together longer and jon and martin are a newer relationship at the end of tma etc etc)

cecil and carlos are overall a positive influence on them. they're not ENTIRELY positive, but mostly positive.

sadly, both couples struggle with communication and boundaries so they're not really corrective for one another.

8. How does Esteban respond to Jon and Martin? When do they have their baby if they have one in wtse?

esteban and avery are born at the same time in wtse and they see all four of them as equally their parent

9. What’s their living situation like? Do they all share the house — do they divvy up space? Id imagine living dynamics btwn them are crazy and hard.

carlos and cecil already have a house when jon and martin come to town and jon and martin end up moving into their guest room. as jon and martin stop being guests and start being boyfriends, the house becomes equally their space, including decorating and rules.

before avery and esteban are born, they buy a new house. jon and martin are equally involved in the process and martin even helps hunt down the real estate agent! when they move into the second house they share the master bedroom in an alaskan king bed

10. What do Jon Martin Cecil and Carlos think about eachother at the beginning of your story and what do they think abt each other by the time the plot (main dilemma, moral etc) is concluded?

jon and cecil see themselves as one being. once they meet things sort of snap into place and they feel truly complete. the first struggle in wtse is cecil and jon having peel apart from each other and return to having separate identities. even afterwards, cecil still relies on jon, as the archivist, to be his memory bank* and jon relies on cecil, as the voice, to speak for him. once they're back to being two people, it opens the door for them to bicker over things they disagree on, but they have ways to work around their misunderstandings and disagreements before it becomes an actual fight. usually that involves a lot of interference from the beholding.

*this is both metaphorical, in terms of their roles for the beholding, and literal. before cecil gets reeducated he dumps everything into jon, so at least someone will know it and see it and remember it. cecil knows he's not equipped to do it for himself and trusts jon enough to do it for him. the part of cecil that needed to die in order for him to become the voice, jon can hold that and file it away. like a piece of lost media finally found. the one remaining copy under lock and key so the knowledge will never be forgotten again.

jon and carlos butt heads a lot because they're both know-it-all control freaks. it never really escalates, they just rub up against each other. eventually their similarities go from weaknesses to strengths, as jon begins trusting carlos to, well, basically handle him. as jon becomes more comfortable being a monster, he trusts that carlos will be able to wrangle him, to keep him from getting too out of control. and that's comforting, to know that even if he can't trust himself he can trust carlos. additionally, jon is carlos' secret keeper. while there are things carlos is either not ready to or is unwilling to tell cecil, jon Knows them. so they get to unpack that as much as carlos is willing to engage with it.

martin really distrusted cecil at first, and i would honestly say there was a time he hated him. martin saw cecil as another avatar here to hurt and manipulate jon. once martin and carlos talked about jon and cecil's bond, how long cecil's been alive, and how long hes been the voice, martin saw him as jonah magnus 2. martin fully believed that cecil wanted to break up their relationship, push martin out, take jon over, and use him. eventually that opinion changes and martin and cecil form one of the most genuine and most secure bonds of the group, which i've discussed more here

martin sees carlos as an older brother figure and becomes very shocked pikachu the first time carlos hits on him. especially in the beginning, martin idolizes the control carlos has on all the fucked up shit happening in night vale. he's afraid, yes, but he's knowledgeable and is able to stop things before they get out of hand. he isn't an avatar, he has no special abilities, he's just a regular man but all the horrible beasts that call night vale home know that carlos the scientist can and will stop them from engaging in any bullshit or tomfoolery. either the avatars in their world were complete morons or carlos is some kind of super human force to be reckoned with. martin gets veeery disillusioned with carlos as they start working together, realizing he's closer to a mad scientist than the man he's built up in his head. but martin still respects him because, well, he is brilliant and talented and the town's hero, but martin sees all the places he has flexible ethics and uses questionable science. their dynamic is complicated because of that, with martin still seeing him as a mentor, and martin identifying them as the humans in the house, someone he should be able to relate to and lean on. but martin has guilt about that because he doesn't want to engage or encourage carlos' more questionable behaviors. carlos thinks martin's deep moral conflict is just the cutest and playfully bullies him a lot, which does not help with martins perception of him as an older brother.

#wtse #tma #wtnv

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glassartpeasants · 3 years

Note

If you don't make a happy ending for couldn't care less you better keep bob with you at all times

HOW DARE YOU THREATEN BOB YOU KNOW WHAT-

Couldn’t Care Less .2

Shigaraki x GN!Reader

Warnings: Angst, death, blood, abuse, gore

~~~

“i hope that blue haired fuck got what he wanted. I hope that handyman freak dies alone.” You say to yourself as you walk down the alleys way of Musutafu. The smell of the dingey and moldy alleyways flood your nose as the laughter of happy couples ring in your ears.

How come they got they’re happily ever after but you didn’t? It wasn’t fair. You did everything you could to be there for him. Yet he still treats you like shit, all because you cared about him? And then he thinks your cheating all cause you ask a male friend for advice! What an insecure asshole.

A vibrating in your pocket brought you back to reality as you realize your phone was ringing. Letting out a sigh you answer,

“Hello?”

“Come pick up your shit.” Oh, you thought you blocked this fuck.

“Keep it asshole. I don’t want anything that smells like ‘lonely bastard who only gets action from his hand’ on my clothes. Burn it, decay it, I couldn’t give a shit less.”

“God you were always so dramatic. And there’s no reason to be a cunt.”

“And there was no reason for you to be an insecure dick. You either block my number or im calling the police and ratting on you.” A silence fell over the phone. Nothing was said until you finally spoke up.

“Jeez your pathetic. I’ll do it myself.” He was about to say something, insult your most likely before you hung up the phone and blocked him not seconds later.

“Now he’s outta my hair. I can finally feel some sort of calm.”

~~~

3 weeks later

After a day of coming back to your musty apartment you decided it needed a little bit of cleaning, considering you haven’t been their in about 4 months. You paid up front all the time even when you weren’t living in it. Just in case ya know?

You swept up the floors, vacuumed the carpet AND shampooed it.Cleaned the tub, shower and sinks, cleaned out your empty refrigerator, washed all you sheets and what clothes you left there. It wasn’t much so you knew you had to get some more before anything else. That and groceries.

After all that was said and done, you sat down on the couch and just relaxed. Well you tired, that was before Shigaraki popped into your head again. It wasn’t a sort of loving way, it was a hatred sort of. The thought of his stupid face made you just want to punch a wall, pretending to be his face.

But you ignored it as you turned on the Tv, hoping that would get your mind off him. Nothing interesting except the news. Always talking about violence and war. Same old thing over and over. Blood, death, tragedy.

“This world is a cruel unjust place. The only way it seems to be recognized in this world is death or doing horrible things. Nothing good every comes to fruition.” You grumble before walking to your room and plopping down on the nice clean and still warm sheets. The nice smell of lavender slowly dragging you to sleep.

~~~

A loud bang hit your door which ripped you from your slumber. You were questioning on checking it out before you heard something that made your heart stop,

“If there’s anyone in the house kill them, we can’t have people knowing we ransacked this place.” You slowly get off your bed before moving slowly and quietly to your window. Your push your fingers on the glass and you gently push it up. Grabbing at the sides of the window you pull yourself out of it, not before hearing a gunshot and a burning pain inside your calf.

“Fuck! They’re getting away!” You could hear them from inside the house.

“Did they see you?!” You fell from your window onto the ground. Thankfully your apartment was on the first floor so it wasn’t a high drop.

“Not that i know of! I did shot them in the leg so they shouldn’t have gotten far!” You try your hardest as you run towards the main street. Cutting through alleyways, going as fast as you can as you hear they’re footsteps behind you. Looking up closely you see a hero, knowing he was your only chance you scream for help.

“Help me please!” The hero’s head turned towards you and ran towards you. You guess the robbers heard your cry for help because they’re footsteps seemed to be heading back your probably trashed apartment.

“Oh my! What happened?!” The sound of the hero’s concerned voice calmed you down a bit.

“Some people tried to rob my place and i tried to get out of there silently but they must have came into my room and saw me leaving and shot me in the calf!” You wince as putting pressure on the wound burned hotter than hell.

“Don’t worry! I’ll get you to the hospital in no time!” You felt relieved before hearing a crunching sound, you looked to your left and see a familiar patch of blue hair in your peripheral vision. You ignored him before getting picked up by the hero and was carried to the hospital. The blood loss from your calf slowly dragged you into unconsciousness.

~~~

After waking up you notice the white room you were in. It was pristine to the touch and smelled of lemon cleaning products. The bright lights hallways peered inside your room from the crack of your door.

Looking around the small feeling of pain crept back into your leg except not as painful anymore. Pulling back the covers you notice bandages and a small bit of blood that stained through the bandages around your wound.

“Ah fuck that’s gonna scar. It’s gonna be a pain to heal too.” You say to yourself as you pull back the blankets and wrap yourself up in them.

Right as you were falling back asleep the ringing of your cellphone brought you out. Grumbling in annoyance you grab it and look at the caller id. It was a number you didn’t recognize so you just let it ring thinking it’ll be the end of it. That was until it started ringing again. You sighed in frustration and picked up the phone, not wanting it to ring longer since it was in the dead of night at the hospital and you wanted people to be able to sleep.

“What the hell do you want? It’s the middle of the night.” You annoyed voice rang into the other side of the phone.

“Why tf were you talking to a hero? Did you fucking break your end of the bargain?” You were confused at first. You definitely knew the voice behind the phone. Then you remembered earlier that day when you saw him in the shadows.

“I was literally shot. You think im not gonna ask someone for help?” You rub the bridge of your nose.

“I don’t believe you. You always were a two faced bitch.”

“Oh jesus fuck, thanks for the insult. Glad to know what you always thought about me.”

“I’m going to kill you you backstabbing bitch.”

“Love ya too. goodnight and goodbye Shigaraki.” You hung up and blocked said number. You weren’t going to lie, hearing him spill such an insult and threat hurt you and made you very weary and afraid if he would actually go through with it or if he was just saying that to scare you.

You knew what those hands could do and you knew how painful that death would have been. You were hurt more than you liked to admit, at the beginning of your relationship he wasn’t aggressive or mean at all towards you. He’d try to get you flowers or your favorite type of drink. He called you pet names that would make your heart flutter and beat, you don’t know what you did wrong for him to change so suddenly. It was like on day he flipped a switch, and you never knew why.

You tried recalling the day where it started and remembered that everyone was annoyed or being rude to Dabi, you didn’t know why and when you asked Spinner or anyone else they just said it was national, be a bitch to Dabi day. You laughed and shrugged it off ignoring it before walking up to your boyfriend giving him a kiss on the lips, only to be pushed into the wall and ignored. You just looked at him in shocked and it had only spiraled down from there to where you are now.

Something had to be wrong. You knew it, Dabi had to have something to do with Shigaraki’s switch in behavior. You looked around the room for any camera and when you noticed that there were none, you called up the burnt male himself. He surprisingly picked up on the first ring.

“(Y/N)? I haven’t heard from you in 3 weeks. Or was it four? Doesn’t matter, where have you been?”

“Dabi, i need you to be honest with me, did you say something to Shigaraki?”

“Huh?”

“Dabi, five months ago Shigaraki flipped a switch and went from a caring boyfriend to an actually nightmare. I need to know if you or anyone else said something to him.” Dabi was quiet on the other line before sighing,

“About that time range i made a joke about sleeping with you, everyone knew it was a joke but apparently Shigaraki didn’t. I didn’t think he’d treat you like he did. Im sorry.” You fell silent. All this shit treatment because Shigaraki couldn’t a joke. Sure it pissed you off that Dabi made such a stupid joke but you were more mad at Shigaraki that he just treated you like shit instead of asking you and confronting you about it.

“Thank you for telling me. Do you know where Shigaraki is now?”

“He left about an hour ago, why?” Shit. You knew this was the only hospital close to your place and Shigaraki knew that too. You got up from your bed and locked the door before going back into your bed, watching the crack under your door incase the light was blocked.

“Dabi, I just want you to know that i forgive you.”

“What? What the fuck are you talking about-” Your phone went silent as the battery died.

‘Shit shit shit shit!’ you thought to yourself as you beg for the phone to turn back on. But you fell silent as the light from the outside of your room was blocked.

“(Y/N), I know you're in there, open the fucking door before i decay it down.” You said nothing in fear. You were glued to your bed as you faced the door.

But that fear was nothing compared to seeing him actually decay the door.

“You stupid snitch. i should make your death as painful as possible.” he said as soon as he stepped inside your hospital room.

“Shigaraki, I didn’t snitch I promise. Why don’t you believe me!” You say as you get off your bed and try to get as far away from him as possible. The pain of the bullet would making you wince.

“Why would I believe a cheating bitch like you?” Before you could speak a four fingered grip wrapped itself around your throat. Shigaraki was always fast, you should have known that you were gonna die even if you tried your hardest.

“I didn’t cheat on you!” You try to pry yourself from shigaraki’s grip.

“Dabi says otherwise.”

“Are you really going to believe him?! You didn’t even talk to me or ask me about it! Just went straight to believing him!” The grip on your neck got tighter.

“then why was they’re a hickey on your collarbone?!”

“You gave it to me! It was fading out!”

“That doesn’t change the fact you snitched!” His pinkie was grazing closer to your skin.

“I never snitched, I was robbed and then they shot me. If you went to my apartment you would see i was right.” He said nothing just staring at you with cold dead eyes.

“Look! I have bandages wrapped around my calf!” Shigaraki looked down before saying something back.

“It was something the hero’s did so they could protect you in this shit hospital.” I was at that moment you knew, nothing you said would change his mind. You shed not a tear while looking him in the eyes

“I wish I never met you. Fuck you Tomura Shigaraki, I hope you die alone and I’ll see you in hell.” You move your head so his last and final finger touched your skin.

The pain of your skin decaying and falling off was much more painful than you thought it would be. You can remember screaming in pain but, it felt more of a emotional scream rather than one of physical pain. but it seems you weren’t the only one screaming.

The sounds of Shigaraki wailing and screaming your name reached your ears before all you heard was silence and saw nothing.

Shigaraki scrambled to try and grab you and even put you together, but your bloody ashes stuck to his hand. Remains of your existence covered his clothes as he screamed in pain.

“No no no no! Wait please! I didn’t mean it!” He cried as his tears fell onto your ashes, the tears collecting the ashes and forming a grey tear drop. He wasn’t thinking clearly, he’s sorry! He didn’t want to kill you!

Bile rose from his throat as he puked all over the ground, inches away from your ashes. He grabbed your ashes trying to pick them up to hold what was left of you. But all he got was the remains of your smeared all over his hoodie. He shook violently as memories of you guys replayed in his mind, your happy face and the way you use to love him and care for him.

But now, you were nothing more than ashes on his sleeve, reminding him that he was now truly alone.

#tomura shigaraki #mha #bnha #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shiragaki #mha tomura #Shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #never threaten bob again anon :)

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hongism · 4 years

Text

touch of the devil - k.hongjoong 18+

↣ pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader | ao3 version (mxm seongjoong) ↣ genre: angst, fluff if you SQUINT, nsfw, fantasy, supernatural, demon!hongjoong, emo rocker!hongjoong, there do be plot tho. ↣ wc: 9.0k ↣ summary: you came to make a deal with a devil sure, but this is the last thing you were expecting out of a night in a dingy bar. ↣ warnings: explicit smut, mention of death, demons, it’s actually really heavy on plot and angst and less focused on the smut ↣ a/n: again i know it’s my birthday but this is my present to you guys, i am a person who prefers to give rather than receive on my birthday and this was the first thing i wanted to work on during my hiatus!! i’ve got so much inspo and motivation rn that it’s crazy and i can’t wait to have everything all set out for you guys when im back :3

﹊﹊﹊

Everything about the air around you is heady and thick in a way that chokes you as you step through the fogged bar. This isn’t your sort of scene – not one you would typically find yourself frequenting on a Friday evening without even so much as the company of a friend – and yet here you stand with hands pressed into the pockets of your black leather jacket. There remains a dull thrum in the atmosphere of the club, a steady rhythm of bass and vibrations that makes your ears ring but you do your best to ignore it in favor of reaching the bartender.

“Just a rum and coke please,” you murmur, hand sneaking out of your pocket to lay a few bills flat against the wood counter. You tug your ID card out as well and flash it in the man’s direction when he raises an eyebrow at you, but upon seeing it, he relents and steps away from you to get the drink.

The question remains of why exactly you are in such a dismal and hopeless scene full of people too drunk off their rockers to even fumble around the bar with some sense of dignity. You, who is neither dismal or hopeless yourself nor are you drunk in the slightest (at least not yet).

The answer is simple. This is a breeding ground, a festering cesspool of desires and greed, and it is the prime place to find what you are looking for in terms of deals with the devil. Maybe not one specific devil, but certainly whatever demon you can get your hands on tonight. And you have quite the lot to choose from it seems, because as you glance around the neon-lit building, you can spot many pairs of red eyes glinting under the lights. You know you have no right to be picky — any and all of them will get the job done — but you can’t help but to note that none of them are as appealing as you imagined they would be. When your friend said that these demons thrived off of lust and appeal, you figured that meant they would purposefully up the ante in terms of physical appearances.

The disdain must show on your features as the bartender begins to speak again as he sets your drink down before you on the counter.

“None of them are for you,” he utters, and you twist back to look him in the eye.

“What do you mean?” You inquire, chin tilting to the side in question, and the man huffs out a small laugh.

“They have their prey already. Picked ‘em the second they walked through the door. All it takes is one look to figure out what these needy people crave from them, what appearances they need to take, what voices to use, what outfits to wear. For people like you, though, something more is required before the real games begin.” He points a single bony finger at your face, staring you down over the length of his digit like it’s the barrel of a gun, and that has you shifting in your seat a bit.

“Something… more?”

“One must have a particular level of certainty before coming to make a deal with a demon, ma’am. But you — you don’t seem to truly know what it is you want. And for that reason, the King will see you with no ruses or deception.”

On the contrary, I wouldn’t have dared set foot in here if I didn’t know what it is I wanted, you want to say. However, your attention is held rapt by his final sentence, the one that held unspoken promise to it.

“And by that you mean physical alterations?”

“You catch on quickly, Miss.” The man leans forward, tongue darting out to swipe over his lower lip, and you glance over the motion only once before pushing away from the counter. He notes the slight annoyance in your features a moment later. “The King will like you quite a bit.”

“When can I expect for this ‘King’ to present himself?” You prop an elbow up on the counter and give one last forlorn glance around the bar in the hopes that someone will come over your way, but it’s to no avail.

“Patience, human. The show hasn’t even begun yet.” He motions towards the middle of the bar, the starkly empty space with a glossy stage set in the center with only a microphone held delicately in its stand and nothing else. You had been hoping to make this a speedy trip — a quick in and out with your deal made and nothing else — but it seems you won’t be having that luxury. And it is a bit frustrating, honestly, to come to this place with the expectation of having a demon cater to you and your wants only to be told that you aren’t certain enough for these supernatural beings, so you’ll have to wait on a demon who won’t cater to you or come to you immediately.

You take a quick swig of your alcohol with the desperate hope that perhaps drinking will make you more certain of what you want, although you already know it won’t. The bartender offers a shrug in response to your annoyance then pulls away to tend to other customers, and you take it as an invitation to swivel in your stool and face the stage. It’s still fucking empty, but at least it gives you a better view than the old wood of the counter that now sits under your elbows.

“Leave it to men to make me wait on them, demon or not,” you mutter under your breath, breath fogging the side of your glass a bit.

You nearly choke on the liquid inside in your next breath because the swirling red neon lights come to a halt on the center of the stage, and the suddenness of the shifting lights startles you so much that you have to sit up straight and inhale deeply to keep from coughing on the alcohol in your mouth. The hazed mist hovering above the floor of the bar seems to swirl towards the stage under the beams of light. You watch the movements as though in a trance, slowly leaning forward until your elbows come to rest on your knees. Out of everyone in the bar, you seem to be the only one interested in what’s going on at the center of the room. Mind you, everyone else is preoccupied: demons with their humans, and humans with the mask-wearing demons who cater to their desires. And while you have no reason to be so intrigued by the scene before you, you truly cannot bring yourself to look away, especially as the dull thrum of music in the bar heightens and gains momentum.

There is no way of describing the sounds rumbling around you. Perhaps if you were fully in your senses, you would be able to distinguish the instruments and beats of the song, but the bass clogs your mind and leaves you squinting at the hazy stage. It could be poetic, the way a lone figure pushes his way through the crowds of the bar like he holds all the power in the universe, studded black leather jacket slung around his shoulders. And as the red lights come over him, you can see his features better. Dusty brown hair that shines a bit, one side exposed and cut shorter than the other, which has bangs that hang loose over the side of his face. Metal bars line both ears, another near the end of his left brow, and a final more intricate one that loops around the middle of his lip and connects to two long metal chains. You follow the path of those chains with your eyes, watching them trail downwards until they loop around his chest and disappear behind his jacket. It’s just a black turtleneck that he wears underneath the dramatic leather regalia and chains but somehow he makes the garment look expensive. You dare glance a bit lower, just enough to make out the frayed and distressed jeans that cling to his skin like a vice, leaving hints of enticing skin underneath to peek through. You can’t see his feet thanks to the fog, but you can practically hear his footsteps drumming in your ears with the rise and fall of his shoes.

Simply put, you are entranced by the sight of this man — if he can even be called that, because you wouldn’t find yourself at all surprised should he reveal himself to be a demon on the tail end of this encounter. He barely looks up from the floor on his trek to the stage, only stopping when he comes before the mic stand and exhales against it in a way that sends shivers down your spine. It’s hardly reasonable for any creature to hold your attention in the palm of his hand the way this one does, but there is no chance of you looking away now, especially as his voice begins to drawl through the microphone and coat your ears like honey. There are words, you recognize enough in the music to know that it should be a song you’re familiar with, but none of them truly process in your daze.

It’s all you can do to just sit there and watch his performance. Between the gentle sways of his shoulders and hips, the teasing drag of his tongue over his lower lip whenever there is a break in his lyrics, and the overall intoxicating nature his aura exudes, you are hooked on every breath he takes. You don’t realize how relaxed your body has become under his spell until it’s too late, and that happens to be the last note of the song as well. It is accentuated with the drop of the glass in your hand and a sharp shatter of the cup against the floor. And just as you inhale a startled gasp and break out of your reverie, his deep crimson eyes flicker over to find yours across the bar. Those twisting lips churn something ugly in your gut. You can’t find the strength in your body to move.

“Mine.”

Your heart leaps in your chest as the word leaves his lips, and while you can’t hear it grate against your ears, you can clearly read his lips enough to know what he’s saying.

His eyes glint a bit in the darkness. It shouldn’t leave you wanting more, but that bitter taste of curiosity is nipping at the back of your throat, and you are far too intrigued to turn back now. You just want more. If he seems to understand that at all from the gleam in your eyes, he makes good on it, stepping off the stage and letting his hand drag over the mic in a way that is almost tantalizing. Step after step, he comes closer to you with his lips still curled into a smirk, and the way the lights hit him makes him seem to glisten and glow in the darkness. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until he breaches your personal space and you release a shaky exhale that seems to fog in the air between you. He stretches a hand out to close the space between your bodies and curls his index finger under your chin. The touch is simultaneously hot and cold — your whole body seems to light on fire under it, yet at the same time, the chill in your bones deepens to an alarming degree.

“What is it you desire above all other things?” You can hear him now, loud and clear, and whilst you heard his singing beforehand, the simple rasp and lilt to his regular tone is something that has you unashamedly weak in the knees. “I can give you everything,” he whispers as he presses closer to you. Your knees brush against his form but he keeps on pushing forward until he’s slotted himself between them. The chain hanging from his lips rattles like a chime, singing its unknown song like church bells in the night, although you are far from God and heaven now. “All you need to do is ask.”

You cling to some semblance of reason while you can, knowing full well that it will all leave you soon enough, but for now, it lets you choke out a single statement that has the demon before you laughing under his breath.

“That’s not how it works.”

“And who are you to tell me how it works?” His finger curls a bit harder at your chin, and you can feel the blunt of his nail scraping over your skin. Your eyes are glued to his, so enamored and consumed that you can’t even think to look anywhere else.

In that moment, it is as though the universe is nothing but a speck of dust in the corner of your vision. Something so raw and whole like the man standing before you is all-powerful and vigilant in a way that has every nerve in your body at full attention, ready for whatever his next step might be. And that turns out to be quite the curveball as it seems because he leans closer to you, breath intermingling with yours, and you subconsciously curve your back into his touch to reach him closer. Still, even though you physically show how ready and desperate for the touch you are, he waits and glances over your features.

“What is it you desire from me, human?”

You have to vehemently restrain yourself from simply saying ‘you’ and getting on with it.

“Your name.”

“Is that all you would have from me?” As a demon, it is his life’s work to know the inner-workings of the festering desires of humans. You have no doubt in your mind that he knows exactly what is it you want, even if you are not sure of it yourself, and you do not doubt that he won’t use that to his advantage either. But that’s what you asked for in coming here, and that is exactly what you both expected and wanted out of this.

Perhaps it is shameful, but just for once, you wanted to surrender control. Too often are you asked to have everything set out and planned and under control, and too often do you find yourself wanting someone to just tell you what it is you should do. That could be why the bartender labeled you as ‘uncertain’ because even in this moment of vulnerability, there is still the thinnest thread of thought tethering you to that control. And as of now, you want nothing more than for this demon before you to break that thread.

“I would have your name before I asked for anything else from you. Calling you demon over and over would certainly wear out its welcome, no?”

“That all depends on the context, my dear. But… you can call me Hongjoong, if that’s suitable to your tongue.”

“Hongjoong,” you try, testing the way the name rolls off your tongue in such a delicate manner that the demon before you flutters his lashes a bit.

“Sounds so pretty coming from lips so innocent.” He tilts his head to the side, and the movement flashes the pretty expanse of skin below his jaw. You aren’t shy in the way you let your gaze slip over it before trailing back up to meet his eyes again. “Would you close your eyes for me, doll?” He doesn’t have to ask. He could just make you do so with no resistance but still, he asks as though you could say no if you wanted to. You don’t though, and as such, your eyelids fall shut and your vision turns to black for the time being. “Do you know who I am?”

“Th-The bartender called you the King.”

“And do you understand what that means? Truly understand with every fiber of your being?” The question is heavy on your bones, and it is one that you feel like you should know the answer to yet you can’t find any response to his inquiry. Perhaps he means to confuse you because you hear the soft huff of a laugh fall from his lips. “King of the Underworld, Lord of the Dead. Some would call me Pluto, others Hades, it varies from religion to religion and in every culture. Sometimes I pick up rather banal and common names, other times I find myself seeking something extravagant and luxurious. Now… Hongjoong will be a good middle-ground for us.”

You should be falling to the floor in absolute shock due to his words, but the steady finger under your chin keeps you steady. That and the growing fear in your gut as you come to realize that this man holds so much power in just his pinky finger and could absolutely crush you under his heel whenever he wishes. What are you to a god besides an insignificant fleck of dust on the pavement?

“And what of your appearance? Is that… manifested as well?” You dare to ask.

“I have many faces, yes, but this one is one I wear boldly and frequently. You could say it is my natural form. After so many millennia of fantastical myths and legends, however, I’m sure that would seem odd to you.”

“Are you truly a demon then?”

“King of demons, yes. Whether I am truly a demon myself is something that could be ambiguous, I suppose, but if they are all part of my creations, then would that not make me one myself? Though you could say they are all fragments of my own being, making them all mythical gods. It’s all a matter of perspective; however, I doubt that you came searching this place for a lesson on perspectives.”

“No, I came for…” You trail off, and that blossoming uncertainty from before presents itself again.

“There are two things your heart wants right now. One, I can give you with ease and grace, only if you would allow it. That desire is a fleeting one, however, and I do not think it is what you are truly after in being here. The second… that is a wish I cannot deliver, and I think you are more than aware of that. The reason everyone left you to me is because of what you want. It is a domain only I could ever touch.”

You blink your eyes open in haste, searching his deep crimson gaze for some sort of confirmation of the words. The demon dares to look forlorn and lets his stare drop to the floor rather than looking you directly in the eye. Confusion blossoms in your gut. Yes, you figured there was a slim chance that your wish could not be granted, but still you clung to the desperate hope that maybe there was just a small window of opportunity for such a wish to be granted.

“Death is irreversible,” the demon, Hongjoong as he wishes to be called, says in a quiet tone. “I cannot give that which you want more than anything else.”

“Then what can you give?” You ask, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as possible to keep your emotions from slipping out the corners.

“One of two things: I can give you time to speak with him once more or I can make you forget the pain.”

“And if I choose the latter?”

“It would make you forget everything about him and leave you with no memory of him at all.” Hongjoong exhales a small sigh, the bouncing rhythms of the bass rumbling against your ears along with the sounds of his breaths. “You need not decide right this instant. The payment will be the same either way, so we can settle that first if you’d like.”

“W-Wait,” you stammer. You dare to open your eyes once more. “How would I be able to speak to him if you can’t bring him back?”

“I cannot bring him back the way you want. He… he is gone, and though I am the King of the Dead, there are powers even I do not have. Bringing him back to life is impossible, but I can create a doorway for the two of you to speak through for a short period of time. I have no control over how long it would be, just a forewarning. That is all up to him and his willingness to see you.”

“I can’t imagine he wouldn’t want to see me,” you murmur, but the pang in your chest tells you otherwise.

“Sometimes, death and the underworld change fundamental parts of people. They are no longer alive, after all, and as such, those human vices and personality traits dissipate. How you knew him in life could be vastly different than the spirit who now resides in my domain. It is all a matter of weighing risks, my dear. What matters most to you? Remembering him or him remembering you?”

“So if I ask to see him, I would remember him but there’s a chance that he would have no recollection of me? And should I ask to forget, there will be no way of knowing whether he remembers me in the afterlife or not?”

“Precisely.”

That is a hefty bargain to weigh. It is almost too much for your shoulders just to think about it. One is starkly more selfish than the other, but if he’s dead, what good will selflessness do you? It won’t bring him back, that’s for sure. Either you are left with the painful realization that he does not have any memory of you in the afterlife, or you forget it all to avoid that pain. Maybe thinking about the payment before deciding would be a good idea after all.

“As for the payment? How many years do I owe you?” Demons have no use for human currency or trinkets that could be traded for favors. You can barter the only thing you have — years of life. Whether it shortens your lifespan or turns you into a personal slave for a certain amount of time, that is a price you must be willing to pay for such services. You are more than prepared to barter it all off right now if need be.

“None,” Hongjoong answers coolly, and you quirk a brow upwards at the nonchalance in his tone. “I do not deal in years of life. Not often, at least. My abilities are bound in… passion. Lovemaking, fornication, sex, fucking – whatever you wish to call it. Of course, it wouldn’t have to be that exactly, should you not desire that. The other option is a blood pact, a ritual that would take hours to complete, although both could take quite some time depending on your stamina.” There’s a breath of silence that allows Hongjoong’s lips to twist into a suggestive grin, and heat brushes the base of your neck as you fight off waves of embarrassment. “I cannot guarantee that the blood pact would be painless. With sex, I could at least provide some comfort that the pain would only be temporary; however, the choice is yours. Both are binding and would mean that you could never make a deal with another demon again, and you would be marked as mine for eternity.”

“What does being yours entail?”

“Nothing diabolical or unsavory, I promise. Just… when the time comes for you to pass on and join the Underworld, you would take a place at my side.”

“How many people have you laid claim to? Did they all agree to the same terms? How can I trust your word?” The questions tumble from your lips without relent.

“For what you desire, the cost is far less than what I would usually ask for. Those lucky enough to deal with me in the past paid less for their debts. The blood pact… the fornication… both are binding elements. The real cost is your service. Most have agreed to give me their servitude in the afterlife, all with their own places in my domain. That is what you would be offering as well. You will live just as long as you would without making this deal but make up for it after your death.”

“And that’s it?”

Hongjoong’s eyes twinkle a bit under the lights above your heads.

“What did you expect from me, doll? Savagery? Unfairness? Everyone deserves a fair price for what they want, regardless of station in life or status in society.”

“Deal,” you utter without any more hesitation, blinking up into Hongjoong’s dark orbs. There lies a lingering sense of regret in your gut, one that you cannot chase away no matter how hard you try, but you do not need to dwell on it any longer.

“And how would you like to bind our deal, my dear? Neither can be handled immediately. The blood pact requires special preparations for the ritual, but the other — I would not have you in such a place as dirty as this.”

“I-I, um, sex will work just fine,” you bite out, the skin of your cheek caught between your teeth.

“Then when the time comes that you are ready with your decision on what it is you truly want, all you need to do is take this—” Hongjoong retracts his hand from where it rests gently against the column of your throat and digs into one of his pockets. He pulls out a gilded card, one that is black and gold with flecks of red across the surface, but there are no other adornments to the material. “Tear it in half and it will bring you to our meeting place, and I will join you there to seal the deal. Should you decide that you do not want this after all, then all you need to do is burn the card. The decision lies in your hands, and yours alone.” He has to lift one of your limp hands and forcefully place the card into your waiting palm, closing his fingers around yours to make you cling to the item.

“I – th-thank you,” you stammer as you blink from your closed hand to Hongjoong’s features.

“The pleasure is all mine, doll.”

Those are the last words you hear from the demon before he slips away from you, the dense fog lingering in the air swirling up around his body, and within moments, his shadowy form disappears entirely from sight. The air grows cold around you once more. You are left with only the fleeting desire for that warmth to return, for you to feel less alone than you are in that moment, and even if it’s the briefest visit ever you just want one last chance to tell your lost lover how you feel without mistakes this time.

///

The night, as per usual, is cold and unforgiving. It allows for too many opportunities to be alone with lost feelings and thoughts. It has been weeks (if not months) since you visited that dingy club and your fateful meeting with none other than the King of the Dead. Yet you are still here, wallowing in the memories that you’ve been left to suffer with alone, and the gilded black card sits in your nightstand untouched. You open the drawer just to stare at it from time to time, when the nights are particularly rough, and it already had begun collecting a thin layer of dust the last few times you looked at it.

It isn’t that you haven’t made your decision about what you want from your deal with Hongjoong. The more terrifying fact is that you are fully aware of what it is you want, and you simply cannot rectify the guilt that comes along with the pure selfishness of your decision. The feeling is so potent that it swarms your every thought. You know it wouldn’t be an issue once you meet with Hongjoong; the demon will take it all away and leave you with nothing. You won’t even know enough to be guilty any longer, but the pain of committing to the decision is strong enough to make you sick to your stomach.

Wooyoung — the one who suggested you go to the club and make the deal in the first place — will not shut up about how worried he is about you. You won’t recall the deal or why you made it, so what’s holding you back? A temporary guilt that won’t exist longer than a few seconds once you’re actually in Hongjoong’s presence? As he said, you just need to swallow the feeling and get on with it. Prolonging the regrets any longer won’t do you any good.

You huff out a quiet laugh in the silence of your darkened room. The black gilded card taunts you again now, gleaming up at you through the shadows with its faint hints of gold and red. Maybe Wooyoung is right and the only way to get rid of missed opportunities is to forget about them entirely. Yeosang was but a chapter in your life, one that is past and gone now, and as Hongjoong said, there is no reversing death. Seeing him one last time won’t give you anything but pain.

You stretch a shaky hand towards the card in the drawer. It’s cold to the touch, dust billowing up with even the slightest touch of your fingers. You have to dig your nail under the material to pull it up, and once it’s safely set in your palm, you drag your thumb over the surface to brush the dirt away. No words on the surface, no sign that it has been touched by a demon, and not even a hint as to what it could possibly be for.

It is surprisingly flexible, at least moreso than you would have imagined, and you give it a few testing bends to see how easy it would be to break. Hongjoong simply gave you the instruction to tear it in half and that was all. You don’t expect him to suddenly materialize before you on a whim, but surely such a creation is bound by some sort of magic on his part. It is hard enough to believe that demons are real living creatures, but magic as well? Maybe you’ve passed on and just don’t realize it yet. Still, you exhale one last huff of air into the darkness before letting your eyes flutter shut. Taking the card between your hands, you begin to slowly rip the material until it separates with the force, torn in two mismatched pieces.

Nothing fantastical happens.

That fact alone is so overwhelmingly disappointing that you really think for a moment that Hongjoong was just some goth rocker in a stoner bar who pulled an elaborate trick on you. It can’t be too difficult to get your hands on some weird red-toned contacts and weave some elaborate story about being the King of Hell. You could do that yourself. Why did you think he was incapable of such a charade?

Because he knew what you wanted without you having to say it.

Yes, well, Wooyoung claimed that your regrets and grief were evident in your features every time he looked at you. Maybe Hongjoong could see it as well.

You fall back onto your bed, flattening your back against the mattress with a small shout of frustration. The urge to cry is strong; if you’ve spent all these weeks uselessly worrying over something that could all be a farce, you don’t even know how you would react. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, blinking away the tears that blossom in the corners there as best you can. The rolling emotions in your system distract you from the sudden shift in temperature, and before you know it heat washes over you and fills the void of cold in your body. You jerk but refuse to sit up quite yet, eyes flying open in your shock only to choke on air as a bright golden light fills your vision and swarms you with warmth. The cushion under your body doesn’t feel the same either; it is not your bed, it’s too plush and soft, too warm under you, and you feel like you are absolutely drowning in the sensation.

Gold flickers above you, twinkling lights that glisten like small stars above you, and the ceiling is so dark that you nearly think it’s just an opening to the night sky. You sit up in a mad panic. The gold and red decorations littering the far too lavish room barely process in your vision as you look for a way out, and you don’t even see the figure coming up along your side until he’s upon you. A hand stretches out to brush over your forehead. You nearly shriek in your state of terror, but the sound is all but stolen from your lungs instead.

“It’s only me, doll. You’re safe.”

Hongjoong. Ah, Hongjoong. Then… he was telling the truth. It wasn’t a farce or a deception meant to be a game. He claimed to be the Devil Incarnate, and here he stands before you in a room too rich and exquisite for words. You can’t find it in you to think he’s lying now.

You dare to glance up and meet his gaze, finding it so soft on your face that you have the audacity to blush under his stare despite the things you’ll be doing with him soon enough.

“Have you made your decision then?” He asks, tone soft and light. It isn’t one that demands an immediate answer. You know he could ask what took you so long to decide, complain about your hesitance, say that you kept him waiting for far too long — instead, he exudes patience with you, hand slowly combing over your forehead down to your cheek and brushing over the skin there with a touch so featherlight that you almost don’t realize it’s there at all.

“I-I have,” you whisper like the two of you aren’t the only ones in the room and it’s a secret meant only for your ears.

“What would you have from me first then? As I told you before, the payment is the same regardless of your decision, and as such, we can bind the deal first if you’d rather.”

You swallow around nothing. There is no harm in going through with the decision now, but your nerves are so frazzled and out of sorts that you almost desire the sex simply as a means of stress relief. Hongjoong steps in front of you, fully coming into view, and you are shocked at how… mundane he looks. You blink fervently at the man — demon, rather — and take in the gentle part of his hair, the soft glow of his skin that makes him look simply ethereal under this light. He hardly looks like a demon to you; his features are too smooth and perfect for that, from the curves of his lips to the even line of his nose. Although you suppose that’s all he wants you to see, yet it still seems oddly intimate to a certain degree.

“You aren’t worried that I’ll try to run away after my wish is fulfilled?” You ask. Hongjoong arches his brows at you, and his neutral expression slips into one of momentary shock.

“Where are you going to go, my dear? I brought you to this place, and you will need me to send you back once we’re done here.”

It sinks in at that moment how you are completely at his mercy right now. Not that you had any plans of running away, but the question was moreso just to test the waters, see if he is truly as merciful as his features make him out to be. The underlying danger in his tone proves your point and sends a chill down your spine.

“Is that something I ought to be worried about, doll? Should I claim you now to make sure you keep your end of the bargain?” The question sits on your ear like warm honey. It chokes you, fills your senses with Hongjoong’s scent, and you almost find yourself leaning into his curling lips before catching yourself. That seems to pique his interest in the very least, and his smile twists a bit more. “The decision is in your hands as always. I won’t do anything you don’t give me explicit permission to do.”

“Permission granted,” you mutter before catching a hand on Hongjoong’s collar. “Do it all.” You aren’t too worried about damaging his clothes as he’s not wearing anything drastically fancy or expensive-looking, and thus you twist your fist into a ball around the fabric of his black tee and yank him down to your height. He bends at the waist, hands catching on the mattress before his forehead can smack hard against yours. There’s a bit of tension in his neck, and that keeps him far enough back so that he doesn’t kiss you quite yet. It’s almost as though he is waiting for something else, eyes carefully tracing your features with great care before he settles on your lips, and a sharp inhale of breath follows before that thin line in his composure snaps.

His lips hit yours with a surprising amount of force, and the kiss isn’t at all what you were expecting — well, to be more accurate, you aren’t quite sure what you were expecting in the first place. It’s much more pleasant than you could have imagined though, and Hongjoong isn’t shy with the touch at all. His tongue is quick to swipe over your lower lip, hands darting upwards to brush over your sides before reaching your face, and he brings a knee down on the mattress to support his weight as he leans over you. You follow the motion when he pushes forward and lean back until you have no choice but to scoot back on the bed. Hongjoong moves with you with the same amount of fervor, still pressed to your lips without relent, and you don’t even think to stop as he completely drapes himself over your body, knees still up and supporting his weight. The cushion of the mattress dips by your head, a telltale sign that he’s placed his hands there, and you use that as your opportunity to stop for air. Hongjoong surely has no need to breathe like you do since he is undead, but he still pants above you, chest heaving as a pretty flush rises to his cheeks.

“Putting that much power in a demon’s hands is dangerous, is it not?” He mutters. You let your lashes flutter shut as he moves back to your lips, hot breath ghosting over your skin. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“I’ll tell you if it’s something I don’t like,” you murmur, opening an eye to peek at him. He meets your gaze with a soft laugh, but your answer seems to please him enough to bring his attention back to your lips. You inhale as his tongue breaches your mouth and pushes into the wet cavern inside. There’s no chance for you to fight back for any sort of dominance because he only thrusts deeper and coats the inside of your mouth with his taste until you can feel his tongue brushing over your palate. A quiet moan reverberates through your throat and against his lips. You feel the barest hint of a smile in the kiss, then his lips are suddenly gone from yours. You gasp for air with the freedom. Heat pools in the depths of your gut, a pleasant one that leaves you wanting more, and you aren’t sure if it’s simply been so long since you last had sex or if Hongjoong truly has that effect on you.

He returns to touching your body a moment later, hands trailing to the row of buttons on your nightshirt, and one by one, he pulls them apart until the material is barely clinging to your skin. His lips replace his fingers then. First at your jaw placing a wet trail of kisses and soft nips that leave you with goosebumps. Then he reaches the midpoint of your sternum and rests the flat of his tongue there, tasting and teasing your skin until you can do nothing but writhe under him because he is taking so damn long. Your impatience is laughable to him, as evidenced by the quiet huff of air that leaves him next.

“I want to taste every inch of you,” he mumbles against the skin of your stomach, hands pulling your nightshirt away to expose more of the skin underneath. He makes good on his words, and that damn tongue traces lower and lower until he reaches the band of your pants and underwear. You instinctively dart a hand down to tangle in his hair. “F-Fuck.” The curse slips out when you give an accidental tug to the hair close to his nape, and you nearly think that you’ve hurt him in some manner until you catch sight of the blissed-out expression on his features.

“D-Do you — can I…?”

“Do it harder while I eat you out,” he growls. His fingers close hard around the remainders of your close, and you don’t even have time to nod before he’s yanking both your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop. It leaves you more than a little exposed — you’re suddenly nearly nude before the demon who is still fully clothed, and that realization draws your thighs tight together in a sudden rush of embarrassment. You swallow hard around nothing, eyes darting away from Hongjoong’s prying gaze.

All of a sudden, he shrugs your hand off his hair and sits back on his heels. You don’t understand what his reasoning is until you settle your eyes back on his body. He’s leaned back to start stripping layers of clothes off in a rush, hands fumbling and struggling to pull them away in an orderly manner. There is no composure to his actions, only a hastened fervor that has him tossing his shoes far from the bed along with random articles of clothes until he’s laid fully bare before you. You really try your hardest not to glance down at his… you know, but the urge is overwhelming. Before you can even catch a glimpse, however, Hongjoong is on you again, hands latched around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed as he kneels before you on the floor. The sudden movement has you squealing in surprise, and that noise is broken off into a startled moan when Hongjoong’s lips brush through your folds without warning.

“O-Oh god,” you gasp out. Hongjoong’s tongue gives a long and dragging pull through your heat, teasing some of the juices out of you with little restraint.

“Far from it actually,” he replies against your clit. A cheeky grin eats away at his features, but it quickly disappears as he returns his focus to your cunt. Your hand finds its way back down to his hair once more and tugs hard at the strands. Each tweak of his tongue through your folds has your legs jerking a bit, and he has to tighten his grip on your thighs to keep you from moving so much under his touch.

“I’m not — I w-won’t last, pl-please, I–” You can’t even finish the sentence as Hongjoong flicks the tip of his tongue right over your clit and cuts you off. He repeats that same motion, again and again, brings you right to the precipice of an orgasm only to tear you back down from it with soft kisses pressed to the outside of your folds. You can’t keep track of how many times he repeats that process, but it is more than enough to have you shaking from exhaustion and desperation even though you haven’t even been able to come yet.

“Are you going to beg for it, doll?” Hongjoong hums after what feels like hours of pleasurable torture. “I promised to make you feel good, did I not? You just have to tell me what you want.” His words are so taunting that it burns you with embarrassment. The need for that orgasm hangs on every nerve ending of your body, and you could cry just out of the need to come.

“Please,” you whisper in a tone broken from constant moans and cries.

“Be more specific.” It’s so cruel. He dangles the promise of pleasure before your eyes again, this time nipping ever so gently at your bud, and you really do cry this time, fingers digging harshly on his scalp. That draws a prolonged growl from his lips, and it reverberates against you so nicely that you could come from that. Hongjoong pulls his head back too soon though and the sensation is dashed away.

“N-No, no, please. P-Please, Hongjoong, I — please let me come. I need it, I need it so badly. Shit, just – just please let me come,” you wail as tears slip out the corners of your eyes and spill onto the sheets under you. That’s the breaking point for him as well, or so it would seem, because the next time his mouth brushes through your cunt, he doesn’t relent. You come undone on his tongue, riding out the waves of your intense orgasm as he fucks his wet muscle into your heat. He won’t stop chuckling either — a low noise that just prolongs the pleasure and makes you quiver from overstimulation. He doesn’t let up until a dry and choked sob pushes past your lips.

Suddenly he is back up on the bed, bent over your body to be eye to eye with you. His fingers trace over your wet cheeks then clasp hard around your jaw.

“Too much?”

“N-No,” you stammer through the wet cries. “So good. So so good.”

“Mm, can you take my cock too, doll?” He all but purrs the words against your skin. His soft and trailing kisses return to your skin, peppering the line of your jaw just past his fingers.

“Yes, please, I c-can. Please. I want i-it all.” You never thought you could sound so overwhelmingly desperate, but the tumbling sensation that swerves through your stomach as Hongjoong’s demeanor shifts has you falling into absolute shambles. He shifts your position, pushing you up higher to rest against the pillows, and you start to drape your legs around his waist. That must not be the position he had in mind though, because his hand clamps down hard on one of your calves and pushes it to the top of his shoulder. Before you can even blink, he does the same with your other leg, effectively folding you in half and into a position you weren’t even aware that your body was capable of. That shock is momentary as you feel the tip of what must his cock rubbing over your pulsating hole. You can’t do anything but ball your fists around the sheets under you and cling to them like a vice. It’s the only thing that can prepare you for his girth; the stretch may not be as much as you thought it would be, but it still stings like a bitch even after he bottoms out in you. That pain must be showing on your features – in the way your brows are tightly knit together and your eyes are screwed shut so that excess tears from earlier slip out.

The soft caress of lips touches your forehead. It’s so gentle and delicate that you nearly miss it in your efforts to grow used to the sensation between your legs, but Hongjoong repeats it time and time again until your breathing steadies and your chest stops heaving as much. It’s only then that he dares to resituate his hips. You crack an eye open to look at him, and it’s abundantly clear that he’s trying his hardest to hold back and keep from fucking into you with reckless abandon.

“I’m okay now,” you whisper, pulling a hand off the bedsheets to brush some loose strands of hair out of Hongjoong’s vision. “Please fuck me as hard as you’d like.” You snake the same hand around the back of his neck. When he still doesn’t move, you offer a sharp tug to the hair that falls over his sweat-slick nape, and that spurs him into action. His hips snap roughly against yours, pushing your back further into the crude curve it’s already in. Now that the dull throbbing pain has dissolved into a sensation of pleasure, you drown yourself in the drag of his member inside you. It’s quite possibly the best feeling you’ve had all night with the way his tip rubs over your bundle of nerves at just the right angle.

Hongjoong drops his elbows to the pillow under your head, and you greet him with a kiss that is mostly just an awkward clash of teeth for the most part. He gains enough composure to shift the angle to one that’s easier for both of you, hips still working hard as he rocks into you with the same force and speed as before. You are so lost in the euphoria that you can’t even feel your next orgasm sneaking up on you, but when it does, it pulls a noiseless scream from your lips. Hongjoong mouths at the corner of your lips as you ride it out. He still seems far off from his own high, even as he slows the pulses of his thrusts. You claw your way back from the high of your orgasm to grip his hair tighter and pull him closer to you.

“In me. I need you to come in me or not at all,” you demand through a huffed out sigh. It’s a moment of throwing caution to the wind, one that is quite worth it thanks to the expression of hunger and lust that fills Hongjoong’s face.

“You can’t just say things like that, doll,” he growls into the shell of your ear. You try to laugh but he interrupts you with a thrust harsher than any of the ones before. Every sound that falls from your lips now is stuttered and broken at the seams, and you let him fuck you with that same level of passion until he finally seems to tire and lose his rhythm. The only warning you have that he’s about to orgasm is the slight whine to his tone when he moans next. You push what strength you have left into clenching hard around his cock, and that is ultimately what tips him over the edge and pulls a delightful moan from his lips as he spills into your tight heat. He releases his hold on your legs, letting them slip away from his shoulders and back into a more comfortable position on the bed, but he refuses to move off your body.

You aren’t sure how long the two of you stay like that: with Hongjoong continually mouthing small kisses to the underside of your jaw and you just staring blankly at the glittering ceiling with a mind nearly empty. However much time passes doesn’t quite matter because once you recover your senses enough to be coherent again, you recall what is supposed to come next. Shaky hands find their way to Hongjoong’s arms and trail up to rest atop his back.

“Take it all away,” you exhale through a pant, hands clinging desperately to the milky skin of Hongjoong’s shoulders. “I don’t want to remember him anymore.” His chest heaves against yours, and a few loose strands of dark hair fall forward to stick to his sweat-slick forehead. This time when he kisses you, it is hot and searing, a brand against your lips, one that burns the inside of your mouth and sets your tongue alight. The sensation slips down the back of your throat, fills your gut, burns you from the inside out, and all your thoughts go hazy under the touch of his lips. With that one kiss, Hongjoong takes it all away. He gives into your desires, heeds your wishes, and grants you the ultimate peace and serenity you so deeply craved. He continues to cling to you like he’s never held something so desperately or lost in his infinite existence. You return the embrace in full while you can, strength already leaving you in the afterglow of your fornication, and you rake your nails down over his back if only to leave him with some sort of trophy to leave with. He is already leaving with your memories though, a trophy to hold close to his heart should there ever be a time when you ask for them to be returned to you. Perhaps in your afterlife, you’ll ask for them back, and Hongjoong would gladly give them should it be what you desire.

That is what he is, after all. As much as he takes, the Demon King of the Underworld gives in return, where he can with what he can. His duty, his bond, the sole purpose for his existence is to maintain that balance between giving and taking. But if it’s for you — a creature so lost, dismal, and hopeless — perhaps he can tip the scales a bit further in your direction.

At least, that’s what he thinks as you curve your body into his and press your lips with more fervor than before. That maybe, just maybe, endless years of his own hopelessness and confusion were all meant to lead him to finding this: a purpose in his undying life.

﹎﹎﹎

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