#monster is good but i think the somberness of it makes it a bit of a slog so ive procrastinated on finishing it but i need to sometime

[flowersandbigteeth]

Now I’m thinking about how cute of a story it’d be if a human woman reader had a preference towards monster men, but she kept getting used by a lot of monster fetishists to fill their own fantasies. Getting her heart broken constantly as they didn’t see her as a being with real feelings. And eventually she gives up…But of course x monster comes into her life and tries his best to court her cause he actually does love her and see her as a person. Reader of course is very jaded and thinks he’ll use and abuse her too, just like all the others.

If you’re still interested in writing somber stories with a happily ever after in the end, something like this could be fun to explore. The ugly exploitive relationship dynamics taken onto human women by monster men.

Like just imagine reader is sitting in a park, having a picnic, a monster comes up to her, is pleasant, and reader thinks that this is going to be “the one” finally, and gets her heart broken again when he asks her for a one night stand. Or even worse…hands her a card to work at a human x monster exclusive private fetish club…

Um...so I ended up with something close to this, but kind of with a different spin. I've been wanting to do a mothman for soooooo long and this just came together in the right way. So here he is ^_^

Mothman (Roth) x f reader

Word Count: 9.5K

General Plot: Your gargoyle crush asks you out on a date and things don't go as planned.

TW: nsfw mothman smut, moth genetalia, a lot of teeth, kidnapping, sexy pheromones, a bit of violence, reader being tied up and gagged, revenge, mating and soft yandere vibes, bad boyfriends

“Five, ten, fifteen…fifteen,” you sighed counting your tips as you sat on the curb outside the kitchen of the Italian restaurant you worked at. 

Tears bubbled in your eyes as you realized you hadn’t made nearly enough to cover the rent you were already late on. 

“How you doing mite,” a deep voice rumbled behind you. 

You heard a squeak and then a thunk as Tyre, the chef, dumped some trash. Wiping your eyes, you peered up at him, trying to hide the redness on your cheeks. Tyre was a handsome gargoyle with slate gray skin and piercing blue eyes. He smirked as your eyes met. Sniffling, you tried to clean up your face. 

“Nothing, nothing, I’m fine.” 

He glanced down at the odd dollars and some change in your hand. 

“Bad night?” 

You sighed. 

“It’s always a bad night.” 

He scratched his chin, eyes traveling from the top of your head to the slip-proof shoes you had to wear. 

“There’s someplace I ought to take you,” he said, eyes taking on a predatory gleam. “You like monsters, right?” 

You blushed, unsure what to say now that your secret wish seemed like it might be coming true. You’d always had a crush on Tyre. He was big and strong with a rakish smile that made all the waitresses swoon. 

“Um…yeah, I guess.”

“Good,” he said, grinning. “You’re off tomorrow night. I saw it on the schedule.” 

You were going to beg for another shift from one of the other waitresses, but if you were only going to make a few bucks, you figured you couldn’t pass up the chance for a date with your crush. 

“Yeah,” you murmured, your breath a gasp. 

He pulled a phone from an apron pocket and handed it to you. 

“Put your address in here. I’ll pick you up. Wear something pretty.” 

Overcome, you could hardly speak, typing your address and phone number into the phone. 

“See you tomorrow night, mite,” he winked before walking back inside. 

The door slam made you jump, but your heart was already pattering. Tyre had finally noticed you! Ever since you’d started that job, you’d been in love with him. It was true. You did like monsters, but not in a weird way. You were curious, but you were too shy ever to ask Tyre any questions about himself. You didn’t want him to think you were a weirdo fetishist trying to get in his pants for a thrill. But finally, he’d noticed you and asked you on a date! 

Despite the lack of money in your pocket, you hopped up from the curb with a pep in your step. Maybe something was finally going right for you for once. 

When you arrived home, you frowned at the yellow notice taped to your door. 

EVICTION NOTICE: VACATE THE PREMISES WITHIN 15 DAYS OR YOU WILL BE REMOVED

Your breath caught in your throat, and you wondered if you should call Tyre and cancel your date. Walking inside, you frowned. Your apartment was small, if you could even call it an apartment. It was only one room with no kitchen or bathroom. You had to use the common toilet down the hall, and you either ate food you brought home from the restaurant or cooked noodles on your hotplate. Still, you couldn’t even afford this little closet. 

Where were you supposed to go? Pulling out the crumpled fifteen dollars, you stuffed it in the large mug with all your tips. You already knew how much was inside. You counted it over and over again every night, hoping it would magically bloom to a higher sum. 

One hundred and fifteen dollars. That’s how much you had to figure out a new home with. While tears bit at your eyes, your feet were exhausted from running around all day, so you flopped on your dipping air mattress and fell asleep. 

You woke to the next morning to your phone buzzing and grinned at the message on the screen. 

“Pick you up at 9.” 

Scooping up the phone, you beamed. As you dropped it on your chest, you indulged yourself in a quick fantasy. You’d go on a date, Tyre would fall madly in love with you, and then you’d move into his flat, have his little gargoyle babies, and everything would turn out just fine. This had to have happened for a reason, right? All afternoon, you skipped around your apartment, trying on your meager array of outfits for just the right one. 

When 9 came around, you sat on the edge of your bed, checking and rechecking the message. 9, he did say 9, right? Right. He’ll be here. 

Thirty minutes later, there was a heavy knock on the door. You tripped over yourself to answer it, eyes lighting up the moment you met the cool blue on the other side. He looked you over, a meaty hand braced against the doorframe, showing off his massive biceps. 

“Look at you, mite,” he said, brushing a curl of hair from your face. “You clean up nice.” 

“Ah, thanks, Tyre. It’s nothing really,” you half whispered, words having a difficult time making themselves past your lips. 

“Come on,” he said, taking you by the arm. “You’re gonna have fun where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, from the inside of Tyre’s Denali, as he cruised down a dark alley. 

You had only just realized it was a little late to be going to a restaurant, so where was he taking you? He only smirked at you, eyes glittering in the dim vehicle. 

“You’ll see,” was all he would say. 

You should have been concerned, but the truth was you were down bad. You were about to be evicted, had hardly any friends, and no boyfriend. Your last situationship with a werewolf had been a humiliating disaster. You needed this. He pulled into a parking lot, flashing a black card, and a gate lifted, allowing you inside. 

“Here we are,” he said when he parked, circling the car to help you out. 

When he’d set you on the ground, he frowned for a moment, scrubbing his chin. 

“Let’s’ fix this,” he said, grabbing the tight skirt you were wearing and hiking it up your hips so it was more of a mini skirt. Then he yanked on the neck of your sweater, pushing it down over your shoulders.  

“What? Where are we going?” you asked, getting a little more concerned. 

He only looked at you lazily, reaching a hand down to smudge the makeup at the corner of your eyes more. 

“A private club. Freaky girls like you love this shit,” he assured you, though he was becoming less and less assuring. 

What did he mean by “freaky girls”? You were just a normal girl. You liked reading books and cooking when you had the chance. There was nothing “freaky” about you at all. 

Grabbing your shoulders with his big hands, he shoved you forward through the dark lot. Around you, large, monster-sized, luxury vehicles were parked in neat rows. When you reached an odd metal door, he knocked with his knuckles. A hatch slid open, and bright green eyes peered out. 

“What do you want?” 

They narrowed on Tyre. 

“You’re not welcome here.” 

You gulped, cheeks reddening, looking between the pair of eyes and Tyre. 

“Tell Roth I brought him a new girl,” he said, “Told him I’d pay my debt.” 

The eyes flicked down to you for a moment, and the door squeaked open. 

“Tyre, what is going-?” 

You didn’t get a chance to speak as the large, man with pale skin and green eyes snatched your wrist up and dragged you away from him. 

“Tyre! Tyre!” you half shouted, confused as he jerked you down a dark hall, but looking back, the gargoyle only smiled and waved at you. 

“Stop screaming. You’re disturbing the ambiance,” the man holding you in his firm fist, hissed. 

When he opened his mouth, you could see sharp fangs framing straight white teeth. The rest of your words caught in your throat as he dragged you through the club. 

On a large platform in the center, human women dressed in skimpy outfits danced on stage to oddly alluring music. Where the bright stage lights didn’t shine, you could see monsters of all kinds with human women clinging to them engaged in a frightening variety of sexual activity. 

Three gargoyles were sharing one woman, splayed on a table. A centaur had a woman strapped to him with some sort of harness, and your eyes popped when you saw the way he used her. Your heart started to race as you put two and two together. 

You’d heard about these clubs. Places where well-paying monsters could play around with human women to fulfill their fetish fantasies. Yes, you liked monsters, but you would have never stepped into a place like this, not for all the money in the world! You experienced enough creepy fetishists as a waitress. It seemed the only time anyone offered you any real money was to take you home for a night of their own entertainment. 

Betrayal cut you to the core, remembering Tyre’s words. He’d brought you here to repay a debt! He never had any plan of dating you at all! You were nothing more than a trinket to be traded! 

Panic startled you to your senses, and you started to fight the vampire holding you. 

“LET ME GO! LET ME GO!” you screamed, jerking so hard on your wrist that you thought you might break it. 

He narrowed his eyes at you. 

“Jesus, that bastard. He tricked you to come here, didn’t he?” he hissed, frowning. 

He paused, thinking for a second, and for a moment, you thought he might let you go. 

“Still, I’d better take you to Roth and see what he wants to do with you. Can’t have you running off to the cops and blowing up our whole operation.” 

Clubs like these weren’t exactly legal. Along with the girls, they usually sold drugs and were the sort of place where you could hire a shady person to do below-board jobs.

To silence your screams, and to the amusement of a few of the monsters standing nearby with drinks, he slipped the tie from around his neck and tied it tightly around your head, before he stripped off his belt and used it to secure your hands. Then he flopped you over his broad shoulder, carrying you out of the larger room up a set of stairs. You bit on the gag, desperately trying to saw away at it with your teeth, but it was no use. 

You couldn’t see, bouncing on his shoulder, but you heard a door open, and then you saw it shut. 

“Tyre brought you a girl, boss,” he said. 

Suddenly, he flopped you on the floor, forgetting you were a fragile human. You squealed as you hit the carpet hard, pain radiating up your side. Looking up, you froze in fear. The room was dim, the edges hardly visible, the only light a small lamp on a large wooden desk. Peering past the light, you met the gaze of two glowing, red orbs on the face of a dark body you could hardly make out. All you could tell was that it looked large. 

“Why’s she tied up?” 

The voice was almost a hiss, like silk sheets rubbing together. 

“Tyre tricked her into coming here.” 

The orbs disappeared for a moment, then appeared again along with a long sigh. 

“That idiot.” 

“What do you want me to do with her? Dump her? Put her on the floor? She’s pretty enough. She’ll make us some money.” 

Your heart pounded, as your future was being discussed without you. Dump her? 

“Leave,” the voice barked, sounding irritated. 

You whimpered as you heard the heavy footsteps of the vampire leaving and the door slamming behind him. There was a rustling, and the big body behind the desk grew much larger. It wasn’t a shape you recognized, two large protrusions arching over either side of its head and then two more feathery-looking ones on top. Heavy steps echoed in the quiet room as it rounded the furniture and loomed over you. 

A clawed hand emerged from the darkness, clutching your chin, slowly turning it from side to side as his red eyes examined you. 

“Hmm. A little flame,” he purred. 

You tried to scream again, but all that came out was a muffled whimper. 

The protrusions jumped as the creature chuckled. The monster kneeled down next to you, and only then, you could make out his features, just barely. His neck was thick and fuzzy, as was his body, the angular slabs of muscles softened by a coating of black down. Up close, you could see the two side protrusions were actually silver wings, and the ones on top, were elegant antennae. They twitched as he looked you over. His facial features were invisible behind more black fuzz.

“I’ve been wanting a pet,” he said more to himself than you. 

The red orbs narrowed to slits. 

“Do you know what we do at this club?” he asked. 

You’d gotten a pretty good idea when the vampire gave you the impromptu walk-through. So you nodded. 

His lips cracked, and jagged white teeth glinted at you. 

“Good.” 

Clawed fingers slipped through your hair, scraping your scalp. 

“You’ll be well fed and kept, but you are my pet. Mine.” 

You let out another muffled squeal, shaking your head as tears tumbled down your cheeks. A thumb slid through the wetness before traveling to his red tongue. 

“Mmm,” he said, smirking. “Even your tears are sweet.” 

By that point, you were hyperventilating into your gag, the world getting spinny as you panicked. You’d started your night daydreaming about gargoyle babies, and now you were being adopted as some kind of fuck pet for a monster boss. Your breaths grew increasingly shallow until the darkness writhing at the edges of your vision merged into a large black spot, and the world went silent. 

—

You jerked awake by the sound of screaming. The stone floor beneath your cheek was cold, so you sat up abruptly, only to awkwardly flop over onto your side. You were still gagged, but now you were bound by your ankles, as well as your wrists. The room you were in was dark except for a small lamp hanging from the ceiling. It put out just enough light to see the large figure of the mothman who’d taken you as his pet and an orc you didn’t recognize. You shrank back against the wall behind you, immediately afraid of what would come next, but their attention wasn’t on you. 

Another scream pierced the air, making you wince. It sounded almost like…Tyre. 

“Please! Please! She came willingly, I swear!” he said, his tone frantic, all the aloof coolness you’d crushed on erased. 

“Did you tell her what we do here before you brought her?” the orc barked.

“She was dying to get her cunt pumped with monster cock. All those girls love that shit,” he spat. “She’s just a whore like the rest of them.” 

“Tyre?” you murmured, but it only came out as a quiet grunt behind the gag. 

Roth nodded at the Orc and you heard chain rattle, then a crunch as he whipped the heavy metal into Tyre’s face. For a moment, you almost felt redeemed. Like Roth might care about your honor, but his next words evaporated that thought. 

“You know I don't like liars, Tyre,” he hissed, his voice still terrifyingly quiet and emotionless. “You brought me a problem. Now I've got to tie up a bunch of loose ends.” 

You were shocked Tyre could still speak, though his words garbled. 

“She's a slut! She wants it! Just ask her! She was ready to open her legs for me for nothing!” 

Tears poured down your cheeks, hearing the gargoyle you'd been shyly admiring for a year now finally revealing what he really thought of you. He was just like your last monster “boyfriend” who’d dumped you when he realized you were more than just a doll to play with. 

One night after hooking up, his phone started going nuts while he was sleeping. Unable to help yourself, you'd glanced at his texts, humiliated to find he'd been detailing his conquest to his packmates. You were just a joke. 

A “monster-cock hungry slut,” in his words. You stupidly let him sleep peacefully through the night, only asking him about it in the morning. You remembered his sharp green eyes full of humor and his disgusting sneer when you'd confronted him. 

“What'd you think this was? You really think a weak little human like you is good for anything but a quick fuck? Don’t fool yourself. You wanted my knot like a dirty little bitch in heat and I gave it to you. End of story.” 

You broke into big, ugly, wet sobs as your whole world collapsed around you. Your body shuddered against the gritty cold floor, tears forming dark spots on the surface. 

Across the room Roth’s antenna twitched. He gave the orc a look before crossing the room to crouch down next to you. He dug a thick hand into your hair, lifting your head. Your tears blurred his glowing eyes to wobbly blobs. 

“You're crying for him? Is he telling the truth? Are we wrong to punish him?” 

You sniffed, whimpering and shook your head. He dropped your hair abruptly, the gesture suddenly becoming something close to comfort. He patted your head a little stiffly as if he wasn't sure what to do with you. 

You watched him blink, looking away for a moment before he scooped you up, curling his wings around the two of you. He carried you back across the room, turning your face into his soft chest before he spoke. 

“I want his teeth when you're done with him,” he hissed at the Orc. 

Tyre begged behind you, his voice brassy.

“She's lying! That bitch is lying!” 

Roth didn't even flinch, striding confidently out of the room. As he carried you down a dark hall you heard screams following you until they finally faded. 

Roth walked slowly up a long staircase until he reached an elevator. It occurred to you, every room you’d been in was dim, this elevator included, just light enough for someone with average eyesight not to trip over themselves. 

Your stomach dropped as the elevator ascended, finally letting out an echoing DING when it reached the desired floor. 

He stepped forward and you peeked out from behind his wing. 

You were in a beautiful, but dark penthouse. Through the wall to wall windows you could see the stars of the night sky twinkling through. The furnishings were expensive, all black and chrome. 

“Welcome home,” the mothman said, his voice ever soft. 

He set you down on a black couch and you flinched as he crouched in front of you. His long nails picked at the knots binding your wrists and ankles until they were free. 

The moment your limbs were your own again, you slid to the opposite side of the couch, frantically untangling the gag. 

“Let me go!” were the first words that bubbled out of your lips. 

Roth’s blood eyes narrowed at you. It was unnerving you couldn't really read his expression, his facial features obscured by dark fur. 

“Go where?” he asked, calmly, his head tipped to the side. “I had my associates look into you. (Y/N), broke waitress, evicted…where will you go?” 

Your cheeks burned that he knew so much about you. 

“I don't know. Not here. Not a pet.” 

“You'll live better here as a pet than on the street as a stray.” 

You blinked and he was a few feet closer to you, stretching his long fingers out to drag a knuckle down your cheek. 

“No matter. I'm not letting you go.” 

You snorted. 

“Until you get bored with me and toss me out again.” 

His eyes became narrow slits. 

“Did someone throw you out, (Y/N)?” 

Your eyes burned into his, heavy with rage. This was just the cherry on your monster loving cake wasn't it? At least, he was honest and called you what you were to him. A toy. A pet. An object to break and throw away. 

“It doesn't matter. You're all the same.” 

You heard a hiss and then his claws pricked your cheeks, pinching your face. Bright eyes filled your vision. 

“Are we?” He asked. 

Your confidence faltered and you swallowed a lump in your throat. 

“You own a human fetish club. Explain to me how I'm wrong. You see us as weak objects to be passed around.”  

He bared his sharp teeth at you. 

“You will not be passed around. You. Are. Mine.” 

You drew your legs underneath your chin, glaring at him, but winced as a sharp pain shot through you. 

“Ouch!” 

His eyes widened and his fingers left your cheeks, clawing at the tight skirt you still wore. You tried to wiggle away, but his wing boxed you in so he could glide a thumb over your bare skin. It seemed impossible he could see anything in such a dark room, but he growled at the painful spot on your hip where you'd landed when the vampire dropped you. 

“Don't!” you hissed, jerking your skirt down. 

You watched his eyes open and shut, before he stood. 

“Damian!” he said so softly, you weren't sure who he was talking to.  

You jumped as an elegant Naga appeared, wiping his hands with a towel. 

“You called, sir?” He asked his yellow eyes drifting to you only for a moment before they returned to Roth. 

“Bring Vince. Make her some food.”  

The Naga nodded sharply and disappeared. 

He sat next to you on the couch, stretching his wings slowly and resting his forearms on the tops of his legs. Seeing him closely, now, you could see he was tall with broad shoulders, not including his massive wingspan. 

“The girls I employ want to be here,” he said, turning his face to you. “They get paid well and they enjoy their work.” 

“Is that your pitch?” you sneered. 

He flashed his teeth, chuckling. 

“No, you won't be working the floor, but you should know the facts,” he said. “Tyre broke a pact bringing you here. I don't kidnap humans.” 

“Except me.” 

“You're a unique situation.” 

“I won't tell anyone if you let me go,” you promised. 

He was hard to read, but you got the impression he was examining you. 

“I'm not letting you go. I want you.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” You blurted, your heart starting to race again. 

Roth didn't have to answer as the elevator dinged and the vampire from before stepped out. 

“You hurt her. Apologize.” 

Vince’s eyes found you and his eyebrows rose. Giving the mothman a contrite glance, he crossed the room, bending down to one knee in front of you and dipping his head. 

“Apologies, miss, I was too rough with you. It won't happen again.”  

“Good. Get back to work,” Roth said, tone blunt. 

“Have a pleasant evening, miss.” 

Vince stood and winked at you with a little smirk, before he boarded the elevator again and disappeared. 

“Come here, you need to eat,” Roth said, gesturing for you to follow him. 

You wanted to say no, but you hadn't eaten, expecting a quiet dinner with Tyre so you slowly got to your feet and crept after him. 

In the dining room Damian had set the table with a little flickering candle and red roses. Roth politely pulled out your seat for you, encouraging you to sit down. Though you were hungry, you glared at the food in front of you as he took his own seat. 

“Something wrong?” he asked placing a napkin in his lap. 

“How do I know you haven’t drugged this?” 

“Why would I?” 

You blinked at him, opening and closing your mouth as you thought of what accusations to spew. 

“I don’t know! So you can have your way with me or whatever!” 

Though you couldn’t see his lips, a triangle of teeth appeared as if he were smirking. 

“I don’t need to drug your food to do that. Personally, I would rather my lover be conscious when I have her.” 

You crossed your arms. 

“How many lovers have you had?” 

He snorted, picking up his knife and carefully cutting his meat into little cubes. 

“That’s a rather personal question little flame,” he said, before sticking a bit of meat in his mouth and chewing. “What would you say if I asked you the same thing?” 

Your cheeks burned, realizing it was a very rude question. His low, scratchy voice drove you insane. Every word he spoke was soft, deliberate, and calm. None of your fussing seemed to move him, much. Unsure what else to say, you turned your attention to your food. The first bite was apprehensive, but after you’d swallowed that, your hunger took over and you quickly consumed the rest. 

“Damian is a good cook,” you commented. 

“I can tell he’s happy to have someone new to cook for,” he said, scooting a vegetable out of the way with his fork. “I usually have the same thing every night but this is new.” 

Your cheeks burned that he’d made such an effort, but with nothing left on your plate, you weren’t sure what to do next. 

“Come with me,” he said rising. 

You narrowed your eyes on the vegetables he’d left behind, only eating the meat, but followed him out of the room. 

The penthouse was large and airy, the atmosphere perfumed with rows of night blooming flowers arranged in planters outside of the open glass doors. 

“You keep the doors open?” you asked. 

“Though I enjoy my luxuries, my people rested in trees for thousands of years. I like to feel the breeze,” he explained. “Don’t be concerned. You are very safe here. I have security posted everywhere.” 

Your eyes jumped to your forehead hearing that. 

“Are you often under attack?” 

“My business is a dangerous one, but I’ve been at it for many years. You are safe. This is our room.” 

He opened a heavy door and led you into a sumptuous bedroom. A four poster bed sat at the center with silver chiffon curtains fluttering in the breeze flowing in through the open balcony doors. Moonflowers and datura swayed on an arbor framing the entrance, the moon hanging in the center. It’s blue light cast a silver glow over the plush white chairs and vanity. 

“Our room?” you gulped. “I have to sleep with you?” 

He chuckled. 

“I don’t sleep on a bed, usually,” he said. “My kind sleep upright on a perch. The bed is for your comfort.” 

You shuddered, a dark thought passing through your head. 

“H-how…how did you know you would need that?” 

In the darkness, you followed his red eyes. 

“Damian brought it up while you were resting.” 

You wrinkled your nose. Collapsed from panic on a hard stone floor while he tortured Tyre was hardly resting. He suddenly turned to you, grabbing you by your waist and placing you gently on the bed. 

“W-what are you doing?” you mewled as his claws curled around the edge of your skirt, scooting it further up your thigh. 

He pinned you with a glance, before turning his attention to the bedside table and extracting a little pot. Opening it, he scooped some gel from inside and carefully smoothed it over the darkened bit of skin where a bruise was forming. It tingled, easing the slight ache. 

His eyes lingered on the patch of skin, before his claws split the fabric. 

“Stop! Stop it!” you screeched, trying to push him away with your smaller hands. 

It was only then you really understood how strong he really was. He didn’t budge, but captured your wrists in a hand while the other shredded your sweater. 

“I’ll buy you better clothes,” he assured you when you were sitting underneath him in only your underwear. 

You regretted wearing your skimpiest pair, as you’d planned on seducing Tyre with them. Now you felt naked and vulnerable, the red light of Roth’s eyes outlining your curves. 

He swallowed, heavily, making a small grunt in the back of his throat before he released you and stood. 

“Sleep.” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “The sun is rising.” 

Peering past him, you could see the sky getting ever so slightly lighter. He pressed a button and heavy blackout blinds lowered automatically. The sliding door slid shut, making the room pitch black except for Roth’s eyes still shining in the dark. 

You let out a yip as his wings fluttered, stirring the air in the room and he delicately perched on the rail at the end of the bed. 

“Are you going to watch me sleep all day?” you barked, crossing your arms.

“Yes.” 

You sputtered your displeasure, but weren’t sure what to say. Hurriedly scooting under the coverlet, without meaning to you let out a satisfied hiss as you sank into the bed. Having slept on a droopy air mattress for many years, this bed felt like you were nestled in clouds. As much as you would have liked to stay awake, glaring at Roth until he went away, your eyes slid shut and you drifted off. 

–

“Miss, miss,” you heard a voice in your ear. 

You pried your eyes open, taking a moment to remember where you were. Sitting up suddenly, you were met with Damian’s yellow gaze. 

“Time to wake up,” he said, “I have breakfast for you in the dining room.” 

You blinked, realizing you could see him fairly well, and glanced at the windows to see the blackout blinds had been lifted and the sun was well on it’s way below the horizon. 

“But it’s evening,” you muttered. 

He smirked, slithering around you to open a door and then another. 

“We operate on the boss’s clock here. Mothmen like the dark, they don’t see to well in the sunlight. Here, this is the bathroom and the closet is here. I spent the afternoon purchasing you some new clothes, but if you’d like something else, just tell me.” 

“Oh, um…okay.” 

Damian gave you a slight bow and slid out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Taking a breath, you climbed out of the coverlet, first examining the balcony. Standing just in the doorway, since you were still dressed in lingerie, you could see the whole city spread out before you, streetlights flicking on one by one as the sun set. 

On the deck, along with the flowers, was a swinging chair and a small fish pond. You watched the white finned fish swimming in lazy circles  below a few lotus flowers before you went back inside. 

Poking your head in the bathroom, you found it was quite luxurious and to your surprise when you flicked the switch a real light turned on, not the dimmed bulbs everywhere else. Damian, you guessed, had stocked it with a fresh electric toothbrush and all the essentials. Oddly, there were either the exact products you had in your bathroom or the not value brand versions. Instead of the face cream you used, there was a high end cream you’d always dreamed of buying. The same with the makeup, hair supplies, and soaps. Satisfied you had what you needed, you crept into the closet. 

It was one of those fancy closets, you’d seen in magazines with clothes arranged by color and an island in the center full of shelves holding jewelry, scarves, shoes, and-

A sharp scream burst from your lips. 

Damian appeared in the doorway, out of breath as if he’d been slithering at top speed. 

“What’s wrong?” he gasped. 

You pointed a shaking finger at what was a multi compartment jewelrybox, but instead of jewels inside there were carefully arranged, polished, teeth. Hundreds of teeth. 

“What the fuck is that?” you squealed, jumping behind Damian’s body as if he could shield you from them. 

He let out a sharp breath, looking relieved. 

“Heavens, I thought something was wrong,” he sighed. 

Your eyes darted between him and the box of teeth. 

“There IS something wrong! What the fuck?” 

“That’s the boss’s collection,” he said. 

“D-do those teeth come from people?” you whispered. “Are they real?” 

Damian nodded as if that was the most perfectly normal thing in the world. 

“He likes to collect the teeth of his enemies. It’s some mothman cultural thing. It’s kind of neat if you take a good look at them. There are specimens from several species.” 

“He keeps them in his closet?” 

“Where else would he keep them?”

You felt light headed and slumped against the vanity sitting just by the closet door. Were Tyre’s teeth already part of the collection?

“It’s part of his culture, (Y/N),” he said. “Children in your culture put their teeth under their pillow for their parent’s to collect. Think of it that way.”

You shook your head, rubbing your eyes. 

“Please, please stop. I don’t want to hear any more.” 

“Is anything else the matter? Do you like your clothes?” he asked pleasantly. 

“I-I didn’t get a chance to look.” 

Damian nodded and slipped into the closet, returning with a handful of items. 

“Why not wear this outfit,” he said. “I saw it on a Pinterest board and I think it will suit your figure.” 

“Er…thanks,” you said, taking the pile as he slipped out of the room so you could dress. 

You took a long shower, trying to clear your mind of the teeth cache you’d stumbled across. When it was finally time to put on clothes, you had to admit, the outfit Damian had chosen was quite stylish, though you looked a bit like a mafia wife with a diamond tennis necklace around your neck and matching bracelets on your wrist. 

You crept down the hall to the dining room to find Roth waiting on you, surrounded by paperwork. You yelped when to his side you saw another monster you recognized handcuffed and gagged on his knees next to him. His nose was bloody and one eye was swollen. 

“What the- Elijah…what?”

Roth’s eyes rose to you, lingering for a moment before he gestured towards your breakfast. 

“Eat, your food is getting cold,” he murmured, turning his attention back to whatever he was working on as if the monster by his calf wasn’t eyeing you for help. 

You hardly noticed if the fluffy pancakes Damian had provided were good or not, because you were trying to sort out what the monster “boyfriend” who’d jilted you a year ago was doing handcuffed in the dining room. It was hard to know where to look and words escaped you as your mind spun with messy thoughts. 

Halfway through your meal, Roth gathered his stack of papers and tapped them on the desk to straighten them before he spoke. 

“Now that that’s all done,” he said. “Time to other business.” 

He stood, dragging Elijah by his collar along the table to you, leaning on it casually as if everything about this wasn’t very, very illegal. 

“What would you like me to do with this one?” he asked, a clawed hand slipping through your freshly washed hair. 

You stared up at him for a moment, a bite of pancake still half chewed in your mouth before you swallowed it hard. Your mind’s eye immediately went to the tooth collection in the closet. 

“Um…I don’t know? What do you mean ‘do with him?’” 

Elijah whimpered loudly, begging for mercy. 

Roth’s eyes narrowed and he kicked him sharply to get him to sit still. 

“Well, I can give him to my boys and have his teeth extracted or you can keep him around the club polishing the girl’s shoes if it makes you feel any better. They make a game of bullying miscreants. I’ll only take his fangs and claws if you’d like to show him mercy. But he’s not getting away without a punishment.” 

He grabbed the werewolf, by the neck, his red eyes reflecting in Elijah’s green. 

“Monsters like you make me sick. I ought to take your balls.”

He pried his lips apart, his thumb running over a fang. Though Roth’s voice was low, it was thick with a terrifying cruelty. 

“All that power, all the gifts you’ve been given and you use them to trick the ones smaller than you. You could have had a willing human woman on her knees in front of you playing whatever games you like, but you get off on torturing the sweet ones.” 

Elijah’s eyes were wide, full of terror. They flicked to you, begging for forgiveness. 

“I don’t want you to kill him,” you said, your voice thin. 

Roth looked up at you and tipped his head to the side. 

“Pity.” 

His eyes flicked down to his captive. 

“I suppose you have a new job, hm?” 

He narrowed his eyes again, head dipping down so he was close to Elijah’s snout. 

“(Y/N) is very kind. I am not. If you get into trouble, I’ll take what’s left of your teeth and dump the rest of you in a ditch. Understand?” 

Vince appeared from the shadows making you jump and dragged Elijah out. 

“Have fun with the girls!” he called after him. 

“Was that really necessary?” you asked, glaring at Roth. “Yes, he broke my heart, but his fangs? His claws? Threatening to kill him?” 

Roth slipped a knuckle under your chin, his eyes arcing in what must have been a smile. 

“My job is not easy and my world is not kind. Strength and cruelty are sometimes required to take care of the ones who can’t help themselves. That’s the way things are.” 

You huffed. 

“You’re horrible.” 

Fangs flashed in the dimming purple light streaming in through the window behind you. 

“I’ll happily be horrible so you can always stay sweet. My methods may be unappetizing, but it’s worth is to see the truth reflected in your eyes. You deserve to feel justice.” 

He leaned towards you, searching your gaze. 

“And even if you won’t admit it, I can see that you do.”

Your eyebrows jumped and your ears burned. 

“H-how did you even know about him?” 

“I went through your text messages.” 

“You have my phone? Give it to me!” 

He shook his head. 

“You haven’t properly settled in yet. I’ll give you a new one when you’ve come to accept your place here.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“You’ll soon get used to it. Come on.” 

He beckoned you to get up, leading you towards the elevator. 

“I have a use for you,” he said. 

You flinched, narrowing your eyes at him as your heart tightened in your chest. 

“What use?” 

“The girls always have things they need. Some new brand of makeup comes out or melting spray, whatever that means. I have no idea, but I’m sure you do. Can you handle a budget?” 

You nodded, more curious now that your “use” wasn’t anything alarming. 

“All you have to do is receive their requests and figure out what we can afford to buy every month, what’s most important and all that. Then hand over your report and I’ll have one of the guys deal with the order. Simple enough?” 

“Sure,” you agreed. 

He patted you on the head and you peered up at him, trying to read his expression as the two of you landed on the first floor. The club was empty this early in the evening, except you could hear the titter of women through one of the doors that led to the back. A cyclops was restocking the bar, slicing limes and he nodded to you politely when you met his gaze. 

Without writhing bodies, you could see that it was a very pretty place. Tufted benches in Navy blue velvet formed curved shapes housing glossy hardwood tables. The walls appeared to be some kind of fabric with an elaborate swag curtain arrangement softening the corners. The bar was a slick snake-like shape running along one wall, the liquor bottles lined up to the ceiling lit up by gold light. 

A woman with bright pink hair came rushing through a side hallway, looking in her purse for something, almost slamming right into you. 

“Oh sorry!” she squeaked, looking up. 

Her eyes widened at you, then looked to Roth. 

“New girlfriend, boss?” she asked, a sly smile growing on her face. 

Glancing up at him, you couldn’t tell behind his black fuzz, but you almost thought he might be blushing. 

“I’m Candy,” she beamed, shaking your hand. 

Roth waved at you. 

“(Y/N) will be taking your supply requests from now on,” he explained and she narrowed her eyes at him. 

“You’re putting your girlfriend to work?” she pouted, slipping an arm around yours and pulling you close. “Shame on you! You ought to spoil this rare blessing! You’ve been waiting long enough, haven’t you? You’re going to chase her away if you work her to the bone!” 

“Candy!” he growled, obviously a little annoyed, but she just waved him away. 

“Mr. Roth acts tough, but he’s got a gooey center,” she said, her bright eyes filled with mischief. “You’d better take him for all he’s worth! He’s been wanting a girlfriend for as long as anyone can remember, but never could find the right one.”

She winked at you. 

“The girls and I like variety but Mr. Roth is so sentimental he can’t stand the idea of sharing. He’s always wanted one little flower to spoil. It’s so cute. You’re his first girlfriend, you know. He’s never brought another woman here. We would know if he did.” 

“Oh!” you said, glancing back up to him. 

You were sure he was blushing now, though you couldn’t see it. 

“Jesus,” Roth grumbled, hiding his face with a clawed hand. “Aren’t you running late, Candy?” 

She grinned. 

“I can’t wait to tell the girls about this!” she chirped before she smooched you on the cheek and ran off. 

Roth sighed, looking at you for a moment, before a thumb rose to your cheek and he rubbed away Candy’s lipstick. 

“Don’t listen to her,” he grunted, turning quickly and leading you to his office. “The girls pretty much run this place and they get silly ideas in their heads. Meddlers, all of them.” 

“I am I really your first girlfriend?” you asked his back as he walked into his office. “I’m not really your girlfriend, though. You said I was your pet.” 

He plopped down at his desk, waving you over. 

“It doesn’t matter what I call you,” he griped, grabbing you by your hips and setting you on his desk. “You’re mine.” 

Your head tipped to the side. 

“Why haven’t you had a girlfriend before? You’re rich and powerful. Don’t women fall all over you?” 

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a tight breath. 

“My kind mate once, for life,” he explained. “It’s very…serious. Most women don’t like that sort of…intensity hanging over their heads from the start.” 

Your eyes widened, watching the stiff personality he’d been so carefully trying to cultivate melt in front of you. 

“So you haven’t had any other lovers?” you asked. 

He fiddled with the hem of your skirt, refusing to answer. 

“Is that why you’re so hard on sleazy monsters?” 

At that his eyes lifted to meet yours, and his thumb absently slipped over your thigh.

“Being so crass and careless is a sacrilege among my people. Breaking a soul who might be someone’s sacred mate is considered a crime punishable by death.” 

You looked down at your fingers, suddenly feeling an ache in your chest. It should have been a relief, not a pain. He would get bored and let you go someday. Now you knew that for certain. 

“Am I just a placeholder until your real mate comes along?” you whispered, the words slipping past your lips, though you tried so hard to keep them in.  

He chuckled, lowering his head to fill your vision with his bright eyes. 

“I just told you. We mate to one person only. I wouldn’t have brought you to my bedroom if I intended to have someone else.” 

“Why didn’t you just say that? Why be so distant? You scared me. If you’d wanted to mate me, holding me against my will is not exactly how to start a relationship.” 

At that his eyes avoided yours. 

“Like I said…women tend to run when they find out we mate for life. Humans aren’t like us. Your kind have lots of different partners and you break partnerships when they no longer suit you. If I don't force you to stay with me, you might leave."  

You had no idea what possessed you, but you placed a hand on his cheek and pulled his face towards you, forcing him to meet your gaze. Your fingertips sank into the soft fuzz and you liked the way it tickled your skin. 

“Not all of us,” you whispered. “Some of us just want one person we can be with forever.” 

“Is that what you want?” he asked. 

The words left your lips on a silvery note. 

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

He pulled you into his lap, curling his wings around the two of you. 

“I can give you that, if you let me.” 

A light giggle filled the little space for just the two of you. 

“I suppose I don’t have much of a choice,” you tittered. “You don’t plan on letting me leave.”

“No,” he murmured. “But if you stayed because you wanted to it would mean a lot to me. It’s okay if you don’t feel it now. I’ll spend our lifetimes trying to convince you.” 

Your head tipped against his soft chest, feeling a strange giddiness a lady shouldn’t feel towards her kidnapper, especially one who had a large collection of the teeth of the people he’d murdered in his closet. 

You were fairly certain monsters had driven you to madness. None of your dramatically swaying feelings made any sense… but your “enemies” had been defeated, you’d had the best sleep you’d had in a long time in a big comfy bed, and you were wearing half a million dollars in diamonds. Objectively, your quality of life had wildly improved from the day before when you were sitting on a dirty curb clutching fifteen dollars. 

For the first time, you felt his soft lips against your forehead and your head tipped up, following them. When you pressed yours against his, you felt a shudder roll through his chest, making your skin tingle. His clawed hands slipped into your hair, holding your head in place while he explored. 

You felt his breath fanning your face, panting into your kiss and underneath your fingertips his heart raced, causing yours to skip as well. An arm reached behind you and you heard sundry items clatter on the floor as he laid you out on his desk. 

His tongue explored your mouth, tasting like cinnamon, as his fingers clutched your cheek. Fear and anticipation muddled your thoughts. Part of you was still unsure, but the other part knew it was too late for doubts. Your body was ready to surrender, panties damp and thighs sticky. 

You gasped underneath him, his wings forming a silvery cave tinted with the glow from his red eyes. You ran your fingers through the soft feathers and felt him shudder with appreciation. Notching his body between your legs, he pulled only an inch away, looking at you. 

“I will keep you no matter what, but this I will not take without permission,” he murmured. “Just know, if you accept me. I won’t tolerate competition. I’ll murder anyone who dares to touch you and take their teeth.” 

Your cheeks burned, blinking at him through a heady veil of pleasure, his scent carrying notes of the moonflowers decorating his home. This was the key moment. You could refuse him and go back to being his reluctant captive…or you could become his. 

“Okay,” you whispered, your heart answering the question before your still unsure mind. “I…ah…I accept you.” 

His lips covered yours again as he let out a needy grunt, this kiss more desperate and claiming. You felt the prick of his sharp teeth as yours slid against his, the thrill of danger sending lightening bolts up your spine. You could feel the strength in his fingers as they moved over you and the weight of his body as he pressed you into the desk. 

His claws curled around the neck of your blouse and he jerked ito down, exposing the tender breasts perched in your bra. You dragged in a heavy breath tasting oddly like cinnamon, the small space under his wings suddenly feeling thick with the scent. 

Your body grew hot and sensitive, each brush off his soft fuzz making your skin tingle wildly. You suddenly felt light headed and needy, your mouth watering at the taste of his tongue. 

“W-what’s happening?” you gasped when he pulled back to press kisses into your neck. “I feel hot…” 

His hands cupped your breast as you felt his lips agonizingly brush your sensitive skin as he spoke. 

“My pheromones are binding you to me,” he hummed and your heart skipped a beat. 

“What?” you hummed, pushing your breasts into his big hands for more pressure. 

“My pheromones are designed to make mating more pleasurable…to make me irresistible to you.” 

You gasped, but your mind was getting ever hazier as the scent wound around you. Your hips bucked into his stomach, begging for what you wanted. 

“Not yet,” he purred, pulling a tender nipple into his mouth. Colors exploded behind your eyelids, feeling more pleasure flood your system than you’d ever experienced before. 

You’d had enough lovers and a few good orgasms, but this blew that all out of the water like a nuclear bomb and you hadn’t even cum yet. Your back arched and you screamed as his long, agile tongue curled around your nipple. 

The slight prick of his claws bit your skin as his fingers played with the other one, alternating between teasing plucks and firm rolls. The small panties you wore were soaked through and your thighs ground against his hips for more friction. Every inch of skin felt as sensitive as your clit, the fuzz all over his body feeling maddeningly good against it. Your fingertips dug into the thick collar of fur around his neck, wanting to just rub him all over you. 

He let our pleased hums as grunts as your fingers couldn’t decide where they wanted to be, one moment clutching his neck, then his head, then scratching at this chest. The room filled with your desperate mewls, begging him in slurred words for his cock. 

“That’s right,” he murmured on a smug chuckle. “You’re all mine, little flame. Only I can give you what you need.” 

His kisses trailed down your stomach, his soft, delicate antennae caressing your skin as he moved lower. Claws shoved your skirt off your hips, exposing your panties to him and his long tongue slid up and down your slit. You heard the sound of tearing fabric and then his breath on your sensitive lips. His tongue dipped inside of you and you suddenly understood the actual length of it, easily filling your weeping pussy.  

“Roth!” you gasped, fingers looking for something to clutch and finding a few odd feathers to wrap in your grip. 

You heard him hum as he licked you up, making your eyes cross as the vibration drew a blooming orgasm from your core. Whimpering, with tears streaming down your cheeks you felt the agile appendage lapping up your juices, while his thumb found your clit. 

He circled it slowly, making your thighs tense so tightly you thought you might pop. Pleasure zapped you like a lightening bolt, the electricity lighting up every nerve until your whole body felt like it was cumming all at once. Your head dropped to the side, drool leaking over your cheek as your eyes rolled back in your head. 

You weren’t sure you could take much more. Making love had never been like this. Your mind couldn’t process what his pheromones were doing to you. 

Finally, Roth couldn’t hold back anymore, standing so he loomed over you, only his red eyes visible in the darkness. His fingers slipped past your open lips, holding you you in place as you felt his thick shaft investigate your pussy. It felt a little strange, your skin so sensitive it could make out every detail. Though velvety skin still covered it’s girth, the head was more elongated than a humans, ending at a slightly sharper angle with a pronounced ridge bisecting it. Smooth bumps formed a line running vertically along the shaft and something…or some things grasped your thighs like little fingers, holding them open. Your confusion as what was holding your legs apart melted away when he snapped his hips and his cock entered you.

A ragged roar filled your ears as he bottomed out inside of your channel. You could tell by the way the fingers in your mouth flexed, he was doing his best to hold back, not to hurt you. He was still for a moment, as he gathered his resolve, but you had other ideas, sucking on his fingers lewdly, your wet tongue tracing his claws. 

He bent down on top of you, fingers fleeing your hot mouth and wrapping around your neck. 

“Naughty girl,” he gasped as you bucked your hips, the little nubs lining his shaft making you whimper. 

You could hardly see him, but you knew he could see you and you were getting annoyed with him trying to be gentle. Pulling your tits out of your bra, you kneaded them shamelessly, pressing the flesh against the arm holding your throat and arching your back so he couldn’t avoid the dirty show. 

You couldn’t hold back your victorious smirk as he let out a hungry growl and his hips started to batter your soft flesh. His eyes disappeared into the darkness as instinct overtook him, rutting you wildly. Strong fingers tightened on your throat, only ratcheting up the spice swirling through every limb like a savage tornado. 

Drowning in pure bliss, hot tears poured down your cheeks, your body jerking underneath his as he pounded into you. Nonsense poured from your lips, rational thought swept away in the storm. When the sensation reached it’s peak you felt like your body might shatter into a million pieces and you welcomed the oblivion that overtook you. Body shuddering violently as you fell over the edge. 

Your wet, needy cunt, clamping down on Roth’s cock so suddenly made his body respond in the way it was designed. His shaft suddenly inflated to twice it’s original girth, stretching you decadently before he cursed and you felt ropes of searing cum splash against your sucking walls. 

You could hear heavy panting and it took you a moment to realize it was your own breath. Roth let out a long, groaning sigh, his body slumping on top of yours, only stopped by a strong arm bracing the desk. 

His bright red eyes returned, looking somehow more entrancing than before. Everything about him seemed…more. His cinnamon, flower laced scent stuck to you and his soft fur felt luxurious. Even the sound of his ragged breaths tickled your ears in a sumptuous way. 

“You’re…different,” you muttered, brain having trouble putting words together. 

He let go of your throat, a thumb brushing your bottom lip as his hand clutched your cheek. 

“My pheramones have soaked into your body,” he purred. “You’re mine now. I’ve marked you.” 

“Oh,” you hummed, eyes slipping shut, as you felt the aftershocks of your love making roll over you. 

Whatever little claspers were holding your legs retreated and as his cock slipped out of you, cum and slick splashed on the wood floor. 

He scooped you into his arms, pulling you into his lap as he peppered soft kisses on your forehead. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, fingers, absently stroking your hair. 

“Mhmm,” you hummed. “Will it always be like that…now that you’ve marked me?” 

“Yes,” he said, twirling a bit of hair around his finger. “Now that we’re bonded…I can’t control my pheremones. They…have a bit of a mind of their own and their purpose now is to reinforce the bond.” 

A knock at the door sobered you a bit as you tugged your shirt back up to cover your boobs. 

“Who is it?” he called, still so quiet you weren’t sure how anyone heard him. 

“Vince,” said the vampire on the other side of the door.

“Is it an emergency?” 

“No.” 

“Go away.” 

“Got it, boss.” 

He tucked the bit of hair he was twirling behind your ear and smiled. 

“Do you want a snack?” 

Your eyes met his with all of the earnestness in the world. 

“Yes. I would love that!” 

He pulled out his phone and texted someone before setting you back on his desk and leaning back in his chair, looking deeply satisfied and proud of himself. You flopped over on your stomach, kicking your heels in the air and resting your chin on your arm. 

“Do we have to work now?” you asked, batting your eyelashes at him. 

He looked at you for a moment before answering. 

“No…What do you want to do?” 

“I kind of want to get to know you a little better…Since I’m bonded to you or whatever.” 

“Okay,” he said, stretching his arms behind his head. “What do you want to know first?” 

You blinked at him. 

“Why do you have hundreds of teeth in your closet?” 

[milgram-tournament]

MILGRAM Best Song Tournament, Round 2, Match 1 WEAKNESS vs. THE PURGE MARCH

Propaganda for both options under the cut!

Propaganda for WEAKNESS:

"This is definitely more of a personal anecdote. However, I’m neurodivergent (like Haruka) and struggle with knowing it causes quite a bit of disappointment for my mother. I cry about it a lot. But I find that putting on Weakness is soothing for me. Knowing that there’s a character out there with the same issues…. I don’t know. Just my experience."

---

"why weakness should win over umbilical: - THE SINGING THE HIGH NOTES - this song set the tone to what to expect for the trial songs to come (or what we expected) - the part where the song gets all slow paced and then picks up louder at the end it just done beautifully - it's haruka. - the singing sounds like a mix between of course singing and crying. the 'AHahA' sounds like manic laughing until the end when he's crying and it almost feels like he's sobbing while laughing. - the guitar and the drums complement his soft/sad-ish voice perfectly, especially at the beginning - very emotional, even if you didn't see the music video you can tell he's crying and mentally unwell I'm bad a propaganda, but vote for WEAKNESS!!!!"

Propaganda for THE PURGE MARCH:

"Despite the shorter length, the Purge March has several distinct sections in its structure.

It starts with a rolloff, and then… they don’t follow it. Amane isn’t here to follow the beat.

There’s the spoken-word intro and the upbeat first verse listing the tenets. The prechorus (“dou shiyou mo nai…”) has an amen break. The most-sampled four-bar drum beat. Well, there’s half of it. Is it supposed to mean something? Can I get an amen?

The chorus is so, so cheerful… unless you’re actually listening to the lyrics (“I’ll crush your throat too”) or watching the video. And it’s super catchy. 

The second part of the verse dials things back. Now we’re in reality. This is how Amane breaks her tenets. All the while, those tenets are spoken into both ears over the singing. Get some good headphones. She sounds different in each ear.

The music picks up again with the amen break as Amane happily strolls back home, and then-

Oh.

The somber second chorus, with Amane’s lower singing voice and mournful spoken words, leads into the final chorus, with new lyrics and a more forceful tone. The once-meaningless chanting now has real words. “You’re sorry? I don’t care! Please go ahead and die already.” You can hear Amane’s anger despite the cheerful melody. She harmonizes in the final phrase, as if to say “we’re in this together, me and my little color guard troop.” And finally, it’s just her. Speaking. "Oboetemasuka?" Accompanied by only a single drum.

She is both Amane Momose and not. She upholds the doctrines that she was raised with, but she can’t."

---

"Purge March is geniunaly one of my favorite pieces of fiction both in and out of the context of trauma. Its fantastically directed and composed. The batton twirling is spetacular and energetic, the set and character design of Amane conveys a lot about the world she’s in and the story she’s telling. Purge March contextulizes a lot of Magic in both expected and unexpected ways (insert the entire cat symbolism thesis here) Purge March casts Amane in the role of a scary child. The glowing eyes, the framing of Amane as Above the viewer, the brutality and catharsis of it all. It seems tailored made to make you Scared of her. It’s a continuation of the cycle of abuse that we the audience repeated in T1 when we gave her that verdict. A red flashing warning sign about the Inhumanity and Monsterous qualities of Amane Momose. But Amane as a monster is fufilling and freeing. Again, its deeply cathartic. I would write more if I wasnt so sleepy at the moment but its just some Fantastic work overall. Purge March is also just fantasitic vocally and also hids electricity sounds in the instrumental which I think is evil and awesome."

---

-Amane’s vocals and how they slowly get more and more off the deep end is both really sad and cool to watch.

-The symbolism of the marching band and the flags. Ifykyk

-The beginning where it sounds like a propaganda TV show… really shows just how far Amane’s thinking is rooted in her cult and how that’s shaped her perception.

-The LYRICS. They work so well but it’s also creepy AF considering it’s a child who’s singing it.

-“So there is no second time, I’ll give back the judgment that you gave to me!”

-The overlapping part… gives me chills everytime.

-Building off the last point, the last “I’ll crush your throat too.” Ouch.

-“Remember MY cries, MY repents, MY words of “I’m sorry” that I said to you?”

-The song also does a great job of showing how much the guilty verdict messed with her.

[thezoraprince]

Monsters - Link (BotW) x mother!reader

“Hi, I was the anon who asked about the doing a more familial headcanon/imagine and if you want the do it the scenario I was thinking about is as follows: afab!reader is links mother, along with a husband and younger daughter. Generally, this link is closer with his sister and father than he is with his mother. He still very much loves his mother, and she him, but he just prefers to show his love from a distance, which is a nicer way to put it. One day, the readers husband takes the daughter out for the afternoon for a hunting lesson or some such, and they won't be back for a while, leaving the reader home with link who decides not to go. The reader is reading a book or something in the den, and link is out training in the backyard when a bokoblin or some other monster breaks in their home. The reader is so taken aback that the monster strikes her with a club before she can have a second thought. Nearly unconscious, the reader hopes that her child link makes it to her husband and daughter safely, resigning her own safety. When link bursts in through the backyard in a rage and slays said monster, rescuing his mother in the process. Mother and son bonding ensues. I know this a long ask but if you decide to do it I would be so very grateful. Have a wonderful day. 😊” - anon

ahhhh!!!! i love this request so much!! i hope you enjoy <3

it’s a rainy afternoon

the family home in Hateno is quiet

your husband took your daughter fishing in Hateno Bay

and the rainy weather makes it all the better to go

but your son, Link, decided to stay home 

perhaps it was the dreary day

or the fact that he just wasn’t feeling his best today

but he stayed nonetheless

you’re in the den, curled up on the sofa with a good book

and Link is in the backyard, practicing his sword technique

you’ve already lectured him enough in his life to not track mud into the house

but you know that your husband and daughter will be the biggest culprits today

“Just don’t catch a cold, dear.”

it’s the perfect rainy day

until it isn’t

the doorknob jiggles

you assume it’s your husband and daughter returning from their fishing trip

and your nose is so far deep in your book that you don’t look up

but something doesn’t feel right

a strange silver hand grabs your book

and when you look up, you scream in fear

a silver bokoblin has managed to find it’s way into your home

both you and this monster look to each other for a moment, studying the other

but as you try to leave the sofa, it blocks you

your heart races

more and more fear building in your system

your husband is away

and Link is far too young to handle this situation in your mind

and before you can even thing of another thought, you’re unconscious 

your eyes open to the sight of your son

he’s crying heavy tears, clutching onto you tightly

your memory is a bit of a blur, but you hold him just as tightly back

your eyes drift to the silver bokoblin body just a few feet away

once your husband and daughter arrive home, the atmosphere in the home is drastically different

but it’s not somber

it’s full of love

full of hope

you and your son are closer than you’ve ever been

and he’s so happy to see you safe

[roxannepolice]

hope I'm not late for the ship meme, may I suggest 12/simm 👀

You're absolutely not too late, this unironically helps me get around to write my thesis 😅

Who’s the cuddler? Twelve is very embrace averse in the canon, and I think so is Simmy. However, the Master is willing to make sacrifices to annoy the Doctor, so he keeps plopping himself on his lap like it's free real estate. Essentially, Twelve likes his personal space and Simm also likes Twelve's personal space 🙃

Who makes the bed? The Master is a bit pedantic in this area, but after he made the bed a couple of times Nardole thanked him for sparing him this work, so obviously the Master got very pissed and started going against his bed making instincts. Especially given that Twelve only now found out Nardole has been making the bed all this time rather than it spontaneously rearranging itself against the law of increasing entropy and was very happy the Master would do such a selflessly kind thing. So now the bed is a permanent mess and Bill got popcorn for the daily tense stand offs over it

Who wakes up first? Whenever the Master actually wastes his time on such a trivial activity he gets awoken by Beethoven blasting on a guitar. Needless to say, the TARDIS had to start producing a supply of guitars after each meets its gruesome end in a hydraulic press

Who has the weird taste in music? The Master took up the reverse of the Doctor playing classical music on an electric guitar, so now he's mostly into a string quartet cover of I can't decide and Carmina Burana version of Waterloo

Who is more protective? Twelve is not very happy about it, but still feels obliged to end up with a very pissed wet cat version of Simm fished out of Sea Devils' contraptions

Who sings in the shower? The Master, very loudly and purposefully wasting his actually good voice. Given the TARDIS is not very fond of this regeneration, she takes the opprtunity to turn on only hot or only cold water, which results in the Master singing even louder in definace of blisters and coldbite

Who cries during movies? The Doctor allows himself a few somber tears while watching highbrow gangster dramas that are actually cinematic poems about how an individual with every potential to be a decent person becomes a monster and loses everything, betrayals and broken childhood friendships, but also capactiy for last minute redemption (think The Godfather, Once upon a time in America or Angels with dirty faces). And then ruins everything including Nino Rota and Ennio Morricone soundtracks by commenting on them in a very passionate and grandiloquent way that all the same would fit well a sunday school sermon. The Master can later be found performatively bawling his eyes out at the episode in which teletubbies couldn't make the tubby custard machine work so they sang a special song (lyrics of tubby custard, tubby custard, tubby custard (...) tubby custard) to fix it

Who spends the most while out shopping? They're both absolute absolute disasters shopping, but mostly for cosmetics. Twelve spends hours browsing thorugh hair-floofing products while Simmy needs to scrutinize every beard trimming device and test them on other customers' dogs. The one time they went shopping together each made the other wait with the bags outside and started manipulating the timeflow so the torture can last longer

Who kisses more roughly? Again, Twelve isn't very touchable, so Simmy kisses him Bugs Bunny style whenever he drops his guard for a second

Who is more dominant? Twelve is a bit too tired for that, while Simmy flaunts every triumph like making him carry more bags from the disaster shopping trip or seeing his selection of pizza toppings placed on top of Twelve's

My rating of the ship from 1-10. I really wish we had more of their interactions, because I kind of see them turning every domestic detail into an intense battle of wills. Also, Twelve is just more fun to annoy than self-flagellating Ten. Solid 8 ❤️

[magpiemagica]

-My Personal Mean Girls Movie Musical Song Ranking-

*The ranking will be based on the song in comparison to the Broadway show (how well it changes and/or honors the source material), how good it stands on its own, and my own thoughts. I have not/am not planning on watching the movie so this ranking is purely based off of the soundtrack available. I feel overall neutral when it comes to the OG musical and movie. I will not be counting Not My Fault; it's a bop but not part of the musical.

12. Stupid With Love: Same energy (or lack thereof) as What Ifs. It is very clearly modified to sound like a modern pop song. Just like What Ifs, Kady’s singer is not in a character voice. There are repetitive back vocals added, it reminds me a lot of Toe Jammer from My Singing Monsters. Stupid With Love (movie ver.) is so low energy that it doesn’t really match the situation our main character is in (falling head over heels for a boy in her math class). Much more boring/annoying than What Ifs and overall not a good song, in a pop OR musical setting.

11. Meet the Plastics: A lot less dramatic and a lot more serious/”adult”. The whole song sounds like the start of World Burn (Broadway). Grechen and Karen don't even sing or introduce themselves; it's only Regina. This song takes itself SO DAMN seriously. They do know that the reason Mean Girl’s is a cult classic is its humor and over the top nature, right? 

10. Someone Gets Hurt: The song has a Billie Ellish quality to it; it is very soft-spoken for the most part and includes a lot of whisper singing. Someone Gets Hurt sounds very underwhelming, especially when you compare it to the original Broadway song. The song is supposed to be seductive but also powerful and dramatic. I think they only focused on the seductive part. The instrumentals are all toned down so much that it doesn’t fit the scene it is sung in (Regina kissing Katy’s crush, a big betrayal of their “friendship”). Ignoring the context, I don't think it works as a non musical song either.

9. Apex Predator: This cover is a total enigma to me. It is so weird sounding; the singing, instrumentals, tone, background vocals, pacing. Apex Predator is SO all over the place. Maybe it makes sense in the context of the movie? I honestly have no idea what was going on with this song but it didn’t sound…good. No disrespect to Auli’i or Jaquel; they did the best with the direction they were given. Really disappointing considering Apex Predator was a pretty strong song in the Broadway musical. 

8. Revenge Party: This song feels a bit disconnected from itself. The instrumentals don't match the singer’s energy, especially Janis’ strong singing voice. This is a song about getting revenge so why does it sound so mellow? Auli'i vocals are really nice in this song but everything else falls pretty flat. Janis saying “Yes, bitch!” did make me chuckle though; caught me a bit off guard.

7. What’s Wrong With Me?: It is fine for what it is; it gets the job done. Not really a lot to say. 

6. What Ifs: A new song written for the movie. The song sounds kinda somber and low energy; very different from the upbeat and hopeful song it is replacing, Roar. Angourie Rice has a nice voice; it’s just very soft and fits much better to a genre like pop. Speaking of pop, that is the weirdest part about What Ifs, it doesn’t sound like a musical theater song at all. What Ifs is a totally fine pop song but in my opinion, it fails in the context of a musical. The song tells us pretty much nothing about Katy or her circumstances. It's just a fine pop song.

5. A Cautionary Tale: The first song (and impression) of the Mean Girls musical movie. A lot more edgy sounding; it sounds like the musical was trying to really stray away from the classic Broadway style as much as they could. It has a lot less singing variety (less note variety, belts, etc.) Some of the stuff that they change, I really don't like (like the background oohs and cut of Janis and Damian’s witty banter). It feels more foreboding and boring than fun and exciting. 

Less energy, less of a campy atmosphere :(

4. I’d Rather Be Me: Auli'i vocals are great in this but the instrumentals are underwhelming. I don't know why this movie is straying away from loud and powerful musical choices. Mean Girls is all about drama; why isnt that energy showing up in the music? I’m confused and tired.

3. World Burn: Another song that is super dramatic in context but not in execution. Renee’s riffs and belts are awesome (as always). It's not bad but not very good either. 

2. Sexy: Thank you Avantika for giving us some much needed joy to the soundtrack💗! She totally embodies Karen in this song. Sexy has a funky instrumental. Sexy in the movie is very fun!

I See Stars: It’s pretty good. The instrumentals match the energy of the song, the singing is great, the background vocals add a lot, it's just an overall good cover. 

Songs cut from songs from Broadway: It Roars, Where Do You Belong?, Fearless, Stop, Whose House Is This?, More Is Better, Do This Thing

Overall: I saw this movie making a bit of negative buzz and as a musical theatre nerd, I wanted to know what everyone was talking about. Based off what I've seen/listened to, Mean Girls is a musical that doesn't want to be a musical. This negatively affects the music. Hopefully studios see the reception and improve this movie's flaws in future projects.

[centrally-unplanned]

Gonna try to do some seasonal anime takes, lets start with:

Heavenly Delusions

Episode one of HD has a shot that I really liked in episode 1, where main girl Kiruko is getting undressed for the first time (giving off a great impression out the gate aren't I?), and scars that riddle her body are revealed:

So, for one, the cracked mirror is just cool ya know, she is scarred, her world is scarred, good shit. Its also clever though - like sure, her shirt is covering her nipples, but sans that crack this would be a very risque shot. But we don't want it to be, this isn't meant to be a risque scene - she needs to be unclothed to show us her damage. So the crack is arranged to cover the breasts and make the scene work to organically highlight what its supposed to. It does double duty, and that is a sign of good directing.

Now, what isn't a sign of good directing is the entirety of the somber tone is undone by the following scene being a classic someone-walks-in-oh-no-I'm-naked moment and you get some minor but full-on fanservice...but its anime, its gotta hit its quota, whatever. And I will credit the show that jumping between comedic and extremely serious is what it does on the daily, it is being consistent here.

Yet it turns out I was a little bit wrong on the double-duty thing; this is more like triple duty. Because we learn in episode 2 that our girl Kiruko kindof isn't a girl - she is dysphoric:

There was even additional events during that original bathroom scene that suggested this too, so the foreshadowing intent is clear. Now I really like that original shot - the cracked mirror now cleaves his actual body, a split to mirror his own fractured identity. The fact that it downplays the sex organs is probably just a coincidence due to the others factor mentioned, but it still works thematically even better now!

But before you scramble to tune in to watch this egg hatch, its not what is going on here. This is an apocalyptic sci fi story, and Kiruko is actually Haruki, the brother of Kiruko, who died in a monster attack and had his fading brain swapped into Kiruko's body for mysterious reasons. Haruki/Kiruko is now questing to figure out the mystery of how that happened and why his sister died while he was saved. Its a dysphoria born of aberrant circumstances over identity.

Now that isn't the slam dunk it might come off as - using ~plot dynamics to create a new context for metaphorically exploring a real-life issue is a classic technique. It allows distance from the petty minutias of reality to apply focus on the author's own interests, allows the author to push boundaries intellectually with their creative freedom, and generally allows people who don't experience the issue in real life to relate via making the experience more universal. A show could absolutely do some interesting stuff with how someone copes with a body swapped and sex-swapped reality.

Here however is where genre rears its head; its just not going to do that. With its action-comedy premises and modern shounen-adjacent sensibilities (even if it is Seinen), its not interested in that kind of story. The premise reveals that - the 'origin story' for Haruki's swap is all about violence, betrayal, mystery, revenge. These concepts externalize the problem, placing the cause of them in other people and therefore the *resolution* of the problem in the hands of external interactions. I'm not saying there will be no complications, and hey, its episode 3, maybe I will be wrong! But when you have scenes like her male travel partner having his confession shot down this matter-of-factly:

To me all signs point to this being a plot device for drama or even comedic shenanigans than a vehicle for metaphorical identity & gender explorations.

Not helping is I looked into interviews with the author Masakazu Ishiguro, and while I find a little bit on gender exploration I what mainly found was a whole segment on his brother-sister complex, which really makes you think that might be the greater focus for the show.

This may came off as harsh, and its a critique for sure, but overall I am enjoying Heavenly Delusion's great art & character designs, fun setting, and mystery plot. I am just saying that the mirror shot I was so fond of is likely not going to deliver thematically on the meaning its directing imbued it with, which is disappointing to me.

But maybe we will at least get some fun genderbending flirting with the main duo along the way!

(We won't, sigh, this isn't even a good translation, HaruKiri is using the word bishounen, which you wouldn't translate as good-looking, its more specific - 'getting that pretty-boy look young girls favor', something like that. The tone is way more specific, and therefore less flattering. Anyway...)

[mukamibabe]

Do you think Karl will force his wife into pregnancy as she won't give up on avoiding and running away from him?He wants her to be with him for the rest of the eternity.So, would he do it?Maybe a oneshot/scenario?

so, this is dark. please be careful reading if darker subjects and topics are triggering for you,,

alright, without further ado, i honestly.. don't know if karl would do so, but at the same time, i can imagine it, as twisted as it is. while karl might not have any more plans for having children, i think he could easily figure out a use for future offspring. plus, this is karlheinz, a man who can sort of do whatever he wants, so getting his s/o knocked up just for fun? just for his own pleasure? sure. it might just end up becoming a christa 2.0 situation though, where karl will convince his s/o that he's in love with them and would probably just gaslight them the entire relationship. i'm not going to say if karl was to get his s/o pregnant it would be with their consent, because it probably wouldn't be 100% consensual but rather with dubious consent? like, again, in christa's case, i may be wrong, but christa was, even before having subaru, was convinced by karl that he was infatuated with her and whatnot. then, one thing led to another and everything escalated. now, whether or not karl would do that just to ensure that his s/o stays with him.. well, he knows he can get them to be with him forever even without getting them pregnant,, . also, the chances of them miraculously loving karl after he’s gotten them pregnant sounds unrealistic to him but either way. karl does what he wants. and if he wants his s/o to have a child for whatever reason, perhaps because he’s actually in love with them (which. not something i see possible because it’s karlheinz) or because he’s got future plans. idk,,!! i’ll write a tiny little drabble for you, though. nothing really graphic at all. also hehe with scenarios i tend to get a bit serious except;.. i hate writing scenarios bc i criticize myself too much 😔 

also i know this is already under a cut, but i think the only trigger warning i can think of (other than karl being a monster) is implied drugging? and restraints? idk i still don’t know how to use tw’s properly but.. 

~~~~~~~

Icy cold fingers startled the vampire lord’s tired, restrained little wife, making her jolt from her temporary somber, the only escape Karlheinz was willing to allow her. 

She had done this to herself, the vampire believed.

They could’ve been happy. She could be living comfortably, sitting right next to Karlheinz on his throne, but she all she chooses is to deny. 

It was entertaining at first, is what Karlheinz would say, had he been asked. It was amusing, chasing after someone who, for once in his many years, did not return his affections. 

While the man has had plenty of years practicing his patience, he can only handle so much. 

Brushing away a strand of hair, Karlheinz purposefully stroked his wife before him gently. If it weren’t for the fact that she looked at him with disgust in her eyes, or the fact that she was literally bound together at her legs and arms, it would come off as endearing. But both Karlheinz and his beloved knew it was otherwise.

“Good morning, love. You’ve slept in quite a bit.” Karl stated, ignoring her scowl, completely unbothered, as he usually was. Honestly, if the vampire king wasn’t as old as he was, his wife would’ve given him a challenge, considering how defiant they were. It was admirable, really. The way they still held on to the idea that they could possibly leave him. 

As expected, Karlheinz got no response. That seemed to be the case as of late, aside from a few snarky retorts here and there. Removing his pale hand away from the woman’s face, he raised it up to run through his own white locks. Exhaling, Karlheinz once again, killed the silence that lingered throughout their bedroom.

“Little wife.. I have a proposition for you.” 

No response. 

“Won’t you hear me out, my love?” 

A frown started to just barely form upon his lips, but was gone with a blink. Shifting closer to her, he used his hand to lift the woman’s chin up, making her face him. To his surprise, she didn’t fight it. Perhaps the drink she had hours ago still had an effect on her. Interesting, but right now, Karl wasn’t trying to test out any of his other experiments. Not at this hour, at least. Although, it did give him an idea for future uses. 

Piercing golden eyes gazed into his wife’s, who stared back at him expectantly- not like he left her room to look elsewhere.

“I love you. Don’t you believe me? Do you not believe that we are fated to be?” Karlheinz spoke seriously, despite the fact that he was completely improvising. Women liked to hear that, didn’t they? Karl could almost laugh at the way it sounded like something straight from his brother’s mouth. What a sap, he was. So unlike the man who was seen as a king and even worshipped like a god. 

Eventually, Karl thought, things will work the way he wanted. He felt no pressure to force things along, but the endless game of cat and mouse had grown tiresome. 

Karl shifted once again, moving his hand towards the back of his wife’s neck, intertwining his fingers in his hair before pulling her into a careful kiss. It was short and sweet, just another lie fed to the woman he was able to call his wife. 

“Just what exactly, my dear, would you do in order to get what you desire?”

~~~~~~~

little note: i left this ambiguous on purpose because honestly i feel like it fits karl as a character but also i just. wasn’t sure where exactly to go lol. at the very end though, when karl asks what she’d be willing to do in order to break away from him, i had the idea that what he would’ve had in mind would have been to carry his child. anyways, let me know how this was. like i said, i get really self conscious when it comes to scenarios and like.. actual writing so djhfd rip

[danketsuround]

sunday six :]

LONG TIME NO SEE i didn't write at all during my long vacation. but i have something for you this time. it's early in most of ur timezones but i'll tag you anyways @four-white-trees @passthroughtime @c-cw-f-saeko @futilecombat @fire-tempers-steel @overdevelopedglasses (i might have forgotten some people it's been too long TT)

here is a one shot that is an extension of my recent fic (thought you don't need to read that for context lol) in which kuwana shares an awkward beer with mitsuru's father. it's a bit longer than what i usually post so if you want a link i also posted it on my privatter (https://privatter.net/p/10683758) but if you don't mind reading it on tumblr you can check it out under the cut. bye!

His father, a high-bred accountant, a former bank teller, was not as reserved as he had been described. He must have sweated his hairline back three centimeters, and worked as hard as any man at a desk could. He clacked on the ordering screen like a keyboard, pressing hard and fast like there were motors in his fingers.

Kuwana was amazed at his speed, his slick-backed greying hair and the shilling way he spoke about normal things. From there he concluded that Mitsuru was born from a growth on Reiko's side--not an ounce of his father was within him.

"Cheers," the father named Jiro said, raising his mug high. "To better health."

Kuwana was late to clink, and bashfully congratulated the air instead.

"Cheers."

"It's nice being back in Yokohama." He lived in central Tokyo now, alone, in an apartment that probably had windows for walls. "I heard they've got nice Chinese food here."

"That's right."

"Mm," he gulped. "Bet you'll miss it."

"I'm sure they have good Chinese food in Ehime."

"Maybe orange chicken!" Jiro's laughter was pointed by a snap and another gulp. He rattled the too-small table with his cross-legged knee. It wasn't that funny, but Kuwana offered him a polite smile.

Between his laughter and the dead silence of the settling table, he seemed to stop and think.

"Reiko is really going to jail, huh."

There was probably a softer image of her still buried somewhere in his mind; one that was pregnant-bellied with swollen feet and that weird post-vomit glow new mothers get. Kuwana only encountered remnants of her motherhood in the rare moments she smudged food off his face or pointed out his shoes were untied--when she said things like "My baby" in a voice that was much smaller than her own.

It was natural that their divorce ended in some anger. Kuwana remembered her twisting her ring around her finger anxiously like it was hot, talking about how they decided to separate the night he couldn't make it to their son's first graduation; how those bimonthly dad weekends were a blessing he often rejected; how she was jealous of how quickly he fell out of love with her and how he could sleep around without worrying about cooking dinner for a picky child. Surely those things rang true and terribly in her mind, like how her distant gaze and sharp tongue rang in his. But it was across the table, there, that Mr. Kusumoto crumpled his pale drunken face like paper and really thought about what kind of woman she truly was, like it had suddenly occurred to him that he was on-paper divorced for a spit over a decade. Then, perhaps he was trying to imagine his ex-wife with a knife in her hand, and he was failing.

"I can't wrap my head around it," Jiro spoke again when Kuwana didn't answer. "Why would she do something so terrible?"

"She's not a monster," he defended her quietly.

"Tell that to the human popsicle they buried last month!" He laughed again. He punched back his beer and the remaining foam bubbled over his shaven face. His hand predictably hit the table again. "For the record, that kid could rot in hell for all I care, for what he did to my son!" Then the bottom of his mug nearly cracks, and his voice gets low and somber and suddenly thoughtful again. "Why her? Out of all people, her?"

Suddenly Kuwana felt on trial. He realized there was nothing he could say to make Jiro understand, so he shrugged and answered, "Revenge?"

"Some revenge!" He ordered two beers on the keypad without looking. "A high school drop out working in the red light district--he would've been dealt with in an alley without her, had she given it some time, some thought!"

Kuwana pedantically thought of revenge as being more hands-on. Their beers arrived, but he was still finishing his first.

"Selfish woman," he spat, and motioned a short defeated cheers with his drink out of habit. "Stupid, selfish woman. Had she really given up on our poor son so quickly, that revenge was the only answer?"

Kuwana's eyes hit the ceiling. He thanked it that Reiko wasn't there to watch him absorb and swallow the insults hurled towards her.

"You look troubled," Jiro observed.

"I guess."

"Did I upset you, new friend?"

He winced. "No."

Jiro's mouth hit his hands. He said something that sounded like, "Dybulycareouter?"

Kuwana lifted his head. "What?"

"Do you really care about her?"

"Yes." He answered too quickly, then cleared his throat. "Yes, I do."

Jiro crossed his arms. There Mitsuru was, a little. "Are you one of those people?"

Kuwana assumed he was talking about the small cult following Reiko accumulated after her televised confession--a group of housewives and single fathers who believed she had done nothing wrong, and, paradoxically, theorized she had been forced to confess to cover up an even larger scandal within the Ministry of Health. He changed the channel any time one of them was stupidly given a podium and a camera--walked a little faster when he saw an apron-adorned woman trying to turn on a megaphone--for his own sanity.

"No," he answered. "We've just known each other for a while."

"That's right." Jiro pointed at him sharply, like he was trying to pin down their connection once more. "How long have you known her, again?"

"A while," Kuwana dodged.

"That's vague," he groaned. "After we divorced?"

"She was wearing a ring when we met."

Jiro took a hurried sip of his drink.

"I ought to reach over this table and smack you."

Kuwana slowly finished his.

"It wasn't like that."

But just then in his mind, he could see the indent of a ring on her finger--and some other residues of motherhood, like the C-section scar on her belly--from long ago. Reiko's unfaithfulness might have been the least surprising thing about it all--next to Kuwana's willingness to participate.

"At least you're honest." Jiro sighed, though his face looked like he knew he wasn't, and that he didn't care. "You and Mitsuru will be on the road soon, right?"

"Soon enough." Kuwana bowed a little. "If I'm quick, we can leave Yokohama next month. We'll practically be chasing her down."

"There's no rush," he said wisely. "She'll be there whether you leave next month or next year."

"That's true, but."

"Have you ever been married?"

Kuwana shook his head.

"I guess you've never had kids before, then."

"I can't."

"It's about as fun as it looks." His eyebrows twisted and he gave a sly wink. "In other words, not fun at all."

"So?" Kuwana couldn't tell if he was feeing impatient or jealous.

"So, so, so..." He chewed his lips in thought. "So, I guess, silver lining: you're lucky you have a choice. Though, I'm not sure why you would choose it, when you can live as a free man."

He thought about how much he hated being so free. It felt like his existence was bragging. He'd be better off confessing in the aquarium window of a koban than across the table from the ex-husband of a woman that should have avoided him.

"Because I've never done it before?" he answered instead.

Kuwana watched his expression change in real time. Jiro's face was all twisted up in annoyance before his answer. He laughed instead. In his own mind he thought it was out of pity, but it was really shock. He knew this when it was followed by a gasp.

"Cheers!" He got so loud that everything quieted around them. It was unsavory to cheers with a half-empty mug with yakitori backwash, but less unsavory when it was half-full. He lifted his mug in a way that beckoned Kuwana to lift his as well. "To new things!"

"Cheers." It connected.

[dra-dra-dracula]

I saw The Last Voyage of the Demeter with a friend and by god did I kinda hate it. This is the first ever Dracula esque movie I've ever seen and it just did not deliver. And I know I KNOW we've never had a faithful adaptation of Dracula. But I feel with this bit we could've had something GOOD. This was not good.

But the effects were fucking AMAZING.

Spoilers below.

Random woman there to only explain what/who Dracula is, but does it badly? Eh.

Little boy for shock value? Eh.

Dracula looking like a shriveled scrotum creature instead of a man that isn't quite human enough?

A SURVIVOR?????

They tried too hard to make Anna helpless and then suddenly badass. I did not care that she died or that she died like that. Honestly there were very few I cared about that died at all because we didn't get a good enough reason to care.

They did the Captain and the First Mate dirty. Especially with that ICONIC moment we should've had with the Captain but it wasn't like.. it was ruined when they untied him. That someone else gave him the crucifix, that it wasn't his own belief. The First Mate so fucking bound to the ship, despite that we know in the book he'd rather die to nature than to what is in the ship.

Like theres so much I kinda hated about this movie, and I was very excited to see it. I did appreciate them Going There with Clemens and his struggles. But I wish we got that kind of characterization with the rest of the crew as well. Instead of just 'horny' 'religious' 'angy' 'stupid russian'.

Especially as Clemens talks so much of learning the stars, they don't even fucking USE THAT. Or have him realize he can't use it with all the fog like MAN WHAT WAS THAT LINE FOR??

Honestly I was hoping they were going to throw Toby overboard when it was down to the last few. Rather him a 'swift' death in the tides than to be livestock for a monster. But.. no.

The music was okay but there was too much focus on sting notes and jump scares to really build up the tension of this movie.

And then ending with Clemens surviving and like 'i'mma find him and kill him'? I dunno I think a better ending would've been a somber moment of the funeral. Or of Mina and Lucy watching it.

Maybe it's on me, my expectations were too high.

The actor playing the first mate was hot tho. David Dastmalchian did a great job.

[theprofessionalpromptmaker]

Okay, here's a good one: A fantasy adventure story that's like Moonrise Kingdom, with the surrealism of Zeno Clash 1 and 2. Go!

(I am working through the backlog at the moment, so for anyone curious: REQUESTS ARE STILL CLOSED. But these are my requests from years ago, that I am finally answering now that life is marginally less bad.)

Person A was an orphan born into a small town, but has no records of their family before appearing there as an infant, and is always told by the townsfolk that no one leaves the town and no one enters. One day, they start hearing a voice speaking to them and they follow it to the edge of town and discover a barrier far on the outskirts. The voice promises to make them feel happy and loved and cherished and begins to aid Person A in escaping the barrier, but the world beyond is far more treacherous than they could’ve imagined, but the voice stays with them the entire time, helping them through trials, singing them lullabies at night, and guiding them closer to what the voice calls ‘home’.

Person A is the adopted child and apprentice of the guardian at the center of the universe, a being vast and powerful, but who they view as more a nagging parent than much else. And despite being the apprentice, Person A is never allowed to view the world of mortals who live within the universe they are to be the future guardian of. One day, when their guardian isn’t looking, Person A steals a tiny screen and begins observing the small corner of the universe it shows - a bedroom of a child, Person B, who is talking about a mysterious monster called Death that they are afraid of getting them. Person A, deciding that since they’re the future guardian of the universe, they’ll prove their maturity to their caregiver by going on an adventure to go defeat Death. But Person A isn’t aware of what death even is, so they decide to seek out Person B to get their knowledge about the monster.

Person A is a child who doesn’t feel like they blend with their peers, and then a new classmate joins their class who’s extremely strange and terrifies all the other kids, but Person A feels an instant connection with. Their strange and terrifying classmate, Person B, seems equally drawn to Person A. Person A starts to have strange dreams of a world unlike their own, where someone who reminds them of Person B is always with them, in a life they shared together in the elsewhere place of the dreams. When Person A mentions the dreams to Person B, they seem excited and tell Person A they can help them get home to that world and that life, and the two start planning how to runaway to this other world.

Person A was born into a family that heads a cult that speaks of an apocalypse day that is set to fall on one of Person A’s future birthdays, and due to this coincidentally shared date, Person A’s birthdays are always fairly somber affairs, without much celebration. Person B is someone they meet from outside the cult who is their closest friend and only one who doesn’t think their birthday is unlucky and evil, and promises to throw Person A an amazing birthday after they leave their family’s religion/sphere of influence. When that day finally comes, Person B does throw them the party, but when their family show up to crash it and try to stop it, Person A becomes emotional and Person B, wanting to save their friend’s birthday, releases a great deal of power that triggers the predicted apocalypse.

Person A was abandoned on the doorstep of family of hunters with many children, but who took them in anyway, but Person A always felt a bit like an outcast among their siblings. Unlike all their siblings, Person A has never been able to kill an animal but is very good at foraging. But one day, while on a lone hunting trip that’s a right of passage within the family, they start hearing a voice calling them deeper and deeper into the woods, that tells them they are the child of the forest god and are tasked with ridding the forest of the humans who hunt the animals there. Person A can’t decide who to trust or what to do, since they can’t go back to their family without killing an animal, but they also don’t want to do what the voice at the center of the forest is asking them to do and kill the only family they’ve ever known. So they decide to run away and try to find their own destiny. Along the way they meet various people and creatures and supernatural entities who they learn from/help/get experiences with.

[lanternlightss]

so !!! was talking with @gracefullilyofthevalley and they gave such a good idea that the brainrot immediately hit and !!! have to inflict upon you all now.

Who is this woman?

It’s the question most prominent on Percy’s mind, right after, I wonder if I could shove a tree up Gaea’s nose?

Gaea, whose breath makes the ground tremble, whose face barely twitches in the dirt of the cliff.

Gaea, who dangles a woman, one who looks so achingly familiar that his chest hurts, over the end of it all.

Choose, Percy Jackson, comes a voice that haunts his waking steps. Choose. A second chance.

A second chance?

Percy glares at the dirt, wondering if he could spray some water and wash away her mouth. Wash those foul words, and whatever.

“A second chance?” He repeats. What is that supposed to mean…

Choose. Sally Jackson, or the world.

(Not again, not again, not again.)

Sally…. Jackson?

(Not again not again notagainotagain—)

His head hurts, his heart—twists. Who…?

The ground around him trembles. Columns of dirt burst forth, spraying all kinds of earth into the air. A few rocks get into his hair, and one leaves a parting gift of a cut across his forehead.

The columns warp, twisting and curling. He takes a step back as they surround him, reminding too much of—of—

He regrets it, immediately, as a deep crevice cracks and expands just centimeters away from his foot. A fire blazes from it, spreading out, burning away all the grass and forest. In the distance, he thinks he can see cabins set ablaze?

The woman—Sally, who is Sally?—is shaken once more. She bites at the vines around her, an arrangement of curses muffled behind them.

Choose, Percy Jackson, Gaea demands. Choose.

(Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it—)

Percy looks between Sally and Gaea, a little frantic, more than confused.

“What do you want?” He hisses. Sally has to be important somehow, Gaea only ever taunts him with shit like that. For why she’s important…

Sally is shaking her head. Don’t, she’s trying to tell him.

There isn’t a look of fear in her eyes. There isn’t even hesitance. All that’s there is determination, and, astonishingly, an ocean's worth of… love? A deep, shielding love that…. a mother… could….

Choose! What will you sacrifice?

The ground rumbles once more.

Sally is looking at him more comforting, now. It reminds him of the blue drink he had, way back then, when they were about to first set out. It makes his throat close, it makes his eyes burn.

She looks at Percy as if everything will be okay.

(Stop it, stop it! This will be the last, I can’t—)

He stands, legs trembling, chest heaving with unshed tears.

The vines constrict around her, squeezing. Percy startles, his hand reaching out, feels the bit of moisture in the air respond to him, feels the water trapped in the soil—the choice has been made, he has lingered too long.

Around him, the world washes out into grey and black. Sally, though, begins to glow instead.

He tilts, as something comes to mind, of a scene far too similar. Of his mother—(his mother, his dearest mother, please you can’t take her away again!)—trapped in the hands of a monster. A minotaur.

She’s yelling at him, (she’s smiling at him), telling him to go go go (it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay)—

The glow is bright, now, blinding. It pauses for all a second, and—

(Please, I can save her again, I can save her—)

It fades, the glow draining in an instant, and she crumbles into dust. It slips through the vines, falling to the ground, in an awfully, awfully somber way.

Percy stares, hand still outstretched. A part of him feels like it crumbled alongside her, alongside his mother.

(That’s not what’s supposed to happen. That’s not what happened. This isn’t right.

What have you done?)

“What have you done?”

The ground rumbles, once more, but it isn’t Gaea who’s the cause of it. Under his feet, it trembles, dirt skittering this way and that.

Gaea does not answer. Her closed eyes seem to burn into him.

It does not affect him—not as much as she might want it to. It does the opposite, and something inside him roars, angry and upset and devastated and bring her back bring her back—

“What have you done?!”

He brings his hands up, his stomach twisting, and all he feels is rage, rage, rage, (a horrific emptiness), rage, rage.

A jet of water bursts out in front of him, ten, fifteen, then twenty feet high. It responds to his rage (responds to his desperation.)

In a voice that shakes the very core of the earth, he screams, “Bring her back!!”

The water shoots forth, expanding as it does so, until a tidal wave crashes into the cliff. It seems to have done nothing, as when it flows back, flows through the fires that blaze around him, Gaea has vanished. The dust has been swept away, not a trace left.

His body shakes, his expression one of terror and rage. He wants to find Gaea and rip every detail of her face off, wants to swear and curse the gods for forcing him into another godawful world-ending quest, wants his mother—

Wants…. his mother….

Percy sinks to his knees. His throat burns. The images of his mom exploding into gold and fading to nothing overlap in his mind.

A tear drops down his cheek. More follow, until he is heaving and sobbing and wailing and cursing at the injustice of it all. He keels over, holding a hand to his mouth, as he grieves.

“Bring her back,” he croaks.

(I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, mom, I couldn’t—

I couldn’t save you again.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…..)

[wwriothesley]

  it ends with a letter. the nightmare ends with paper.

      “ there was something wrong with Antonie's letter, ” Capucine whispers to him, leaning over his shoulder an evening when they have been left alone, all of their duties done.

      there's a brief moment where he feels cold, even as he puts an arm around her. “ what do you mean? ”

      “ do you remember that they never liked sweets? isn't it weird how they wrote- that now they can finally eat all the cherry pies they want, with their new family? ” a little sniffle. “ ...they never liked cherries. ”

      “ maybe now that they can experience eating what they want, they like cherries, ” he suggests, and loathes himself for keeping up the charade, to avoid spreading mass panic. he can feel his jaw clenching. his teeth are uncomfortable in his mouth for the disgust.

      “ maybe... i hope i'm not reading too much into it. ” Capucine looks up, big brown eyes wide. “ oh, ██████- did i scare you? i'm sorry- ”

      “ it's fine, ” he rubs her shoulder reassuringly, stands just a bit taller. “ just... don't tell Mom and Dad. ”

      she nods, and then looks away.

      she knows now.

      he can't protect her.

      he can't protect her from them if she talks.

  Capucine is gone by next week.

      “ -and if any of you kids ever want to hear about how good your other adopted siblings are doing- ” the woman- his mother- smiles with taut lips, a smile that's almost uncomfortable to see for the fakeness behind it, “ you can just come and ask us! ”

      a pause. little clinks of knives over the plate.

      “ just like our dear Capucine did! ”

      he is no longer hungry. silverware is clenched until knuckles whiten.

      and he has failed her, just like all the other siblings that 'left'. he keeps failing, no matter what.

  lately, they have been keeping an eye on him.

      it must be because he's older- he won't sell easy if he keeps being this somber.

      but there's nothing to smile about- and he's cold, stiff, paralyzed with helplessness.

      a trade of icy glares with his father makes him gain the scar under his eye. they're growing more restless- in the forged letters, they don't know their livestock's preferences and likes, cannot forge the callygraphy. they take the frustration out on him- on the other children.

      he throws himself between the beatings as often as he can- and gains and gives bruises. he punches, scratches, bites to hurt. last time, he found that he has grown stronger- he managed to wrestle the other adult man to the floor, fists in short, blond hair as he smashed his face on the floor until he was pried off him.

      in his throat, a growl.

      “ he's like a possessed animal, ” he hears his father angrily whine to his wife, in the privacy of their bedroom.

      that's right, he thinks with a twinge of pride. and who wins the fight? i'm an animal- but you're a monster.

      and i'm nothing like you.

  the logical conclusion of help never coming stands in appearences.

      thanks to their trades, his adoptive parents have amassed quite the number of people who could vouch for them. there's no reason to betray their so-called 'friends' if they ever want more 'livelistock' they'd better not make a peep about where they suddendly gained a child in their home.

      there's nobody coming to save them simply because no one knows about their personal hell.

      hell isn't out in the street- hellfire burns in this home, under all the appearences and sickeningly sweet smiles.

      there's no raft, only poisoned seawater for miles.

      his silence has been sickening. he may as well be an accomplice- but he's no coward. he's no longer afraid.

      chips of ice stare back at him from the mirror.

      justice is done from the inside.

      “ justice is done from the inside, ” his reflection spits back at him. ██████ sees this from a corner of the bathroom, disassociated from the scene.

 

a large hunting knife mysteriousy goes missing from his father's collection, one morning.

      he's fuming mad. “ nobody will eat until it comes out, ” saliva flies everywhere as he screams in the kid's faces, “ and if it doesn't pop back up for dinner, you'll line up for a good beating! ”

      don't worry, ██████ thinks. you won't make it to dinner.

 

he expected a murder to be something more difficult. something more tedious- but the knife went through his father's chest like it was made of butter, the blade singing over the edge of ribs.

      amidts the crimson pooling out of the gash, his father gasps. “ why? ” he asks- incredulous, almost hurt.

      he receives no answer. just two chips of cold, cold ice watching as he chokes on blood- and his last question goes unanswered.

      he dies with all of his demons, and ██████ walks out of the room.

      justice is done from the inside. from the victims.

 

his wife does not go down as quietly.

      she takes off running somewhere, knowing that their reign of terror is ending. ██████ quietly marches on- follows her, a gruesome sight of a fourteen, blood-covered animal advancing on her easily.

      once secured into a corner of the kitchen, she refuses to go down quietly. she wails and screams insults and pleas as he sinks the hunting knife in her chest- once, twice, thrice- and then draws back.

      she mangles the flesh of his arms with her sharp nails in an effort to fight back before she sags and sobs on the carpet soaking with blood.

      he'll be disgusted by the scars those gashes leave- he'll find a way to cover those, one way or another.

      ██████ won't give her the satisfaction.

      she pleads and sobs, the last song of the slaughtered sinner- she never thought she'd get the just retribution. she doesn't want to die. she begs him for help, and all he does is dislodge the knife from her chest- so she bleeds out painfully.

      just as painful as it has been for their children to be treated as livestock. just as confused as they have been when the tides turned, when the beautiful house and their lovely parents ended up being a cage and torturers.

      there's no victory fainfaire for ██████. just retribution comes with no triumphs, but with numb hands and his body on autopilot.

      he has committed a crime. he will have to pay for it, just as it was taught to him.

       

he heads down to the basement, opens the cages as his siblings huddle against bars and away from him. there's fear in their eyes, fear of him covered in blood.

      “ you're free now, ” he tells them, matter-of-factly, voice flat. “ run, and never come back here again. ”

      they plod away from him without a second thought, huddling together as if to look for protection, and he's sure he'll never see them again.

      even so, it was worth it.

      he waves at their disappearing backs without receiving a similiar gesture in response.

the mirror in the hall returns the gruesome sight of a murderer.

from head to toe, he's covered in blood. heavy, dark red and forever stuck to him. he knows that it won't go away even if he washes- two chips of ice stare back at him from under matted hair.

      unflinching.

      justice has been done- from the inside.

      the sinners are no more, and the innocents have been freed and avenged.

      ██████ has done his duty, and he has no regrets.

[cto10121]

Watching Breaking Dawn Part 2, the mixed bag of all mixed bags. Slow as molasses and boring as hell, but most of the cringey lines have all but vanished and there is (some) competency in (some) of the filmmaking. Let me count the ways…

Bella spoke literally 1 word after her transformation. In the books, she said “I love you.” In the movie, “Renesmee.” Fine, except she doesn’t say “I love you” to Edward…le sigh.

Man, BD is really where they decided to say “fuck it” and ditch the unnatural pallor of the vampires, because Vampire Bella does not look at all different from Human Bella (okay, granted, her wardrobe is subtly different, but not by much). It’s a tribute to Stewart’s acting that you can even register a massive change

The Loch Ness Monster scene began okay/funny and then it was ruined re: 1) Bella punching Jacob (just no) 2) actually showing Bella hitting poor Seth and 3) actually keeping the somber tone. Lighten up, movie! What’s with this movie series and making the fun parts of the book so damn dull?

Not Jacob phasing just a few feet from Charlie and the movie making it so dramatic with a growly wolf when phasing is almost instantaneous and Jacob is in complete control of his wolf form 😑

The little girl actress for Renesmee is adorable. Such a relief after the horrors of the CGI baby.

Garrett’s “British invasion” introduction is hilarious, 💯 Good job, movie

Vladimir and Stefan are Vampire Diaries-rejects horrors, though. 🤮 They are literally thousands of years old and yet look like they just came from Hot Topic. Ew, ew, ew

Bella’s shield special effect…yuck, yuck, yuck. Why couldn’t they do it like Harry Potter did the wards? That wasn’t too bad. So damn corny

Wow, they robbed poor J. Jenks of any and all personality, didn’t they? His parts were actually one of the best of the books for me. They felt mature, like actual adult instead of YA. Instead, it’s all blah. Also, no oyster satin cocktail dress!! The one time Bella chooses to dress up and chose her own dressy clothing, showing her maturity and arc!!!! Meanwhile they just garb Stewart in a really modern dress that barely looks different than her usual outfits!!! Damn it, movie!!!!

Edward: “To think, all of these people are risking their lives because I fell in love with a human.” What. The. Fuck Movie????? In what universe would Edward even think this???? The Screenwriter Cannot Write Edward Cullen For Shit Number 383782838

Edward: “I never thanked you, Carlisle. For this extraordinary life.” Okay, so the script has (1) braincell regarding his arc, no doubt because Meyer was there as producer. Too bad it does a piss-poor job of showing it

“The redcoats are coming, the redcoats are coming.” Garrett, as always, is the best.

Aro: “Ahh…Young Bella.” 🇮🇹 Also, why does he sound like he wants to fuck Bella? Why that particular relish in his line reading?

No one: Not a soul: Look how nothing this nothing is: Aro: *weird ass high-pitched ahahhehhaggahahah sound* And of course it’d be in response to *just* noticing Renesmee’s heartbeat when every vampire can and should hear it immediately. 🤦‍♀️

I like how Patt!Edward has to stumble a bit and then fall whenever Jane is torturing him. And by like I mean hate with all the fervor of my being. By that token, I also “like” Jane literally saying “Pain”

They introduce Alice returning so casually…where is the tension, Alice’s O.S. voice, everyone turning, all the “Alices”? Nope, just a brief distance shot. There she is! Smh

I hate the fake-out fight scene of Alice’s vision

I hate the fake-out fight scene of Alice’s vision

I hate the fake-out fight scene—

Okay, so regardless of what you feel about the lack of battle scenes in Breaking Dawn…it did make sense. There was no way for any semblance of a happy ending to occur had the Volturi decided to come to blows. Full-on mask off isn’t their MO anyway. The way the trial scene (yes, it is basically a trial à la Merchant of Venice) was set up, with witnesses and objections and the like, made sense and the tension was riveting. Also, in bringing Nahuel Alice foiled any rationale for the Volturi’s planned takeover, so there was absolutely no need for the canon-breaking vision

Second of all, a fake-out scene is much more disappointing and/or infuriating than the book’s scene. All of that tragedy and death and it just turns out to be fake? Fuck that. But ofc movie has to movie for the dudebros in the audience (!!) despite the fact that this series has and always was a romance first

Third of all, the way it was all executed…Bella not being an immediate target even though the Volturi must at least suspect her shield is so damn convenient. Babe, she would have been one of the firsts to go. Other bad shit: Edward leaping out of the crater, his skirmish with Aro…bleugh

Okay, there are some good parts: The Bella-Jane stand-off, Seth’s death, Leah saving Esme (good callback), Marcus’s “Finally” (in-character). But it’s just not worth it

The way they garbed Nahuel…it may be well-researched for all I know, but knowing Hollywood, I highly doubt it. As it is, it looks grossly stereotypical to me

Oh, God, the script for Nahuel’s part is so little emotive, it’s like a summary. Nothing compared to the book. He had such personality and the way he spoke of his father…you could just taste the drama

“We will not fight…today.” Movie-verse only, but I do have to wonder if Meyer will ever bring the Volturi back and have them kill off some characters. Not really the type of author to do this, though

And of course they have to have a moment between Bella and Wolf!Jacob for no good reason, even though Jacob should be all about the Renesmee now. Nope, the movies are still on their Bella/Jacob bullshit

“So should I call you Dad now?” Yes, feed the antis, movie.

Speaking of feeding the antis, Alice’s vision of Jacob/Renesmee!!! I know the movie threw out the whole Alice-cannot-see-werewolves-or-hybrids out the window just from the fake-fight alone, but ugh. Ugh. Meanwhile Book!Jacob literally did not give a fuck either way about Renesmee coming of age in 7 years

The actress for Adult Renesmee looks really nice, though. I’ll give it that

That Bella-shows-Edward her thoughts montage was nicely edited, with good transitions. But unfortunately it reminds me of all the bad directorial choices of the prior movies and so alas it’s just cringe to me

Book!Edward after Bella shows him his thoughts: hfgkzoycychohh!!!!! 🥵🥵🥵🥵 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️Movie!Edward: How did you do that? 😑 Fuck you too, movie

I probably should feel something about the credits montage…but I don’t. They include everyone, even minor characters!!!! Please…just don’t

[scionheart]

Drabble || Looking Back

{ Background Music }

A short, bittersweet drabble that the music I was listening to inspired. <3

Words: 1,058

Wake up.

That's what he told me.

I didn't listen.

Whether it be because I failed to realize what he truly meant, believed otherwise, or... perhaps it was my ego. I expected this. Prepared for it, even. Yet I find myself unable to comprehend it even now. It's surreal. Yet, I made that decision.

I am disgusted. With myself. With what I've done. With who I've become. What would father think of me?

I deserve to be haunted. Hunted. I'm a monster.

I'll never forgive myself.

-

That was where it ended.

Holding the paper between his pointer and thumb, amber eyes look upon the inked words in somber nature. They shift and dance over each word, every letter feeling as if a numbing poison sinks its way through his skin. He was so young. Both of them.

Hanzo had forgotten that he even journaled at all back then. He used to love writing. It was a way for him to express his adoration for his surroundings, how free he felt inside during those moments. His love for the city. The estate. His small family. He abandoned everything a few months after what he had done. He fled from Hanamura with very few items and just the clothes on his back. He found a place in solidarity, hidden within the city he grew to know so well.

Averting his gaze to the blank spot beneath the entry, his mind wanders to a few nights after he carried out that heinous command in a fiery rage. He remembers sitting hunched over this paper in this room, his old room, residing himself to eternal punishment. Tears had streamed down his face, rolled down his nose, planting themselves to this page before he had thrown his hands over his eyes, grimacing in anguish, still holding back most of his pain. Unintentionally mirroring the very same position from that night as he's knelt with the paper held under him, his eyes trail about the page again. There they were. The small warped spots from his tears, soaked into the page. One had landed upon the word monster, causing the ink to bleed slightly.

Several long moments of silence pass. He hid all these journal entries away before he left, never knowing that one day, a different man would find them.

There's a soft shuffle of feet against the wooden floor outside his sliding paper door, which he left slightly open. A soft knock on it's frame follows.

"Hanzo?"

The voice has gained familiarity over the past year or so. An Overwatch agent that he's spoken and worked with for a while now. The very same one who helped convince him to join the organization.

Hanzo offers a low questioning hum in reply, lowering the paper a little to look over his shoulder.

"Y'alright?"

He looks back down at the paper and to some other strewn about journal entries on the floor at his knees.

"Yes."

The other man goes silent for a moment, seemingly unsure what else to do or say. Hanzo exhales lightly from his nose.

"Did you need something?" He asks.

"Just checkin' in. It's been a good while."

It's been a little over an hour. Once he found his journal entries, he found himself going through them, as there really isn't much else in his room, anyways. He didn't realize how absorbed he became.

"Apologies, I will be out in a moment." Hanzo replies.

Another bit of silence before the other man resides to walk away from the door, rejoining the others in the courtyard who wait for the archer to emerge so they can all leave together. Hanzo gathers all the pages and stacks them, placing them upon a small dresser at the end of the room against the wall which usually held his katana and wakizashi. With that, he inhales deeply, closing his eyes to cut visual with the journal, turning to face the door. As he exits, he slides the door shut. Making his way to the end of the outside hallway, talking voices in the distance becoming more clear.

Stepping into his shoes, the gravel shifts under the soles. Once they're secure, he stands still.

He turns to look back down the hallway. At the building itself. The trees.

This was it.

The breeze blows the silver sash tied from his ponytail across his back and up like a flag as if to wave goodbye, despite his body remaining stiff as steel. Leaves from the sakura flow by, gently patting him as they swirl. The talking has altered, seeming to die down to a whisper.

Gravel crunches as he's approached. His head turns to see the same man who was at his door a few minutes earlier.

A large red serape picking up in the breeze as well, a wide brimmed cowboy hat and metal chest-plate. Light brown eyes meet Hanzo's.

"Ready?" The cowboy asks, softly.

Hanzo scoffs lightly.

"I better not regret this, Cassidy."

Cassidy chuckles in reply, gesturing his head to the others standing in wait. His brother; Genji, the medic; Angela, as well as a few of the newer recruits, Mei and Lucio. Walking past Cassidy, who follows close behind, he comes up to his brother. The cyborg looks up at him, holding a hand out. Hanzo meets his palm to the cold metal of Genji's. His younger brother speaks up.

"Leave it to me."

That alone feels as if some weight is lifted off his shoulders. Genji is going to stay behind to fix up the estate for a while, yet also so he can remain in this region due to the threat of the new Omni Crisis if anything happens within the next few weeks. He releases Hanzo's hand, lifting the opposite to gesture to the small ship that's sitting in wait where the others have already loaded. Everyone but Hanzo and Cassidy. Taking his first step, a familiar feeling waves in Hanzo's gut. He's embarking once again, yet this time for a different reason. A better reason.

Cassidy follows, tipping his hat to Genji as they give each other looks of acknowledgement. No words are spoken, yet it's known what is expected of the Cowboy. With that, the ships doors close, cutting off sight of Genji who stands in the courtyard to watch the departure until it vanishes from view.

[thelreads]

Day 10

And we're back at the fucked up fucking with the point of view! My, it doesn't even look like it has been a few chapters until the last one.

Things are looking fine, although it is interesting to think that those chapters made from another point of view are basically told like a victim in a horror movie running from a monster, but the monster is the main character.

I wish I could do a bit more polishing, but that is stuff for after November is over. And after I continue my main wip.

But what really is bugging me is how much I'm going to add to this particular one. I could make it a self-contained story and wrap everything up in a bit over 50k words, or I could leave a hook for a future story that would be about this mentioned wrapping up. I'm torn over it, and I'm afraid it is not an answer which Ninjas can solve.

Anyway, the word count for today? 2116 words. really, I swear it felt like I was at, like, over 3000 words, halfway through, this is a bit lower than imagined, but still pretty good. And the total word vomit count is 20608 words. Almost there... Almost halfway... And I think that halfway is the point where I'll need to figure out which of the two paths the story will take.

I feel like I already know the answer, I just don't know if I'm strong enough for it.