#oh the irony… (which was completely lost on him by the way)

[the-nysh]

One of the biggest shocks from reading Trimax vol5 for the first time, after coming in from the 98anime, was the horrific contrast between Vash's destruction of July.

98 anime: the city was destroyed, but miraculously no one was killed. Resulting in a hellish aftermath where everyone (1.4mil people) fought and killed each other for survival in the fallout. Which sounds like a hugely unprecedented disaster, but all those subsequent deaths (loss of lives & livelihoods) were an indirect consequence of Vash firing his Angel Arm on Knives.

But in Trimax? :) Oho.......what a difference, where Vash's horrors are taken to the extremes in ways the 98anime could never show!

Cause everyone--ALL those kind people Vash ever knew and loved in that city were killed by his own hands! Swallowed up into the void (his 'gate') as the direct consequence of firing his forced-activated Angel Arm on Knives. (Reacting in a mix of fear, anger, hatred, revenge, or even aimed in cornered self-defense...all to get Knives to stop. At such a terrible cost.) Where everything else became unintended collateral in that moment, like an unleashed black hole tearing right through the city, causing indiscriminate mass destruction with no survivors or even any bodies left to be found. (Even Knives' body was irreparable.) Utterly and completely lost. Just like Vash's memories. Where it's no wonder he developed amnesia from the traumatic incident!! Cause OH does he SUFFER immensely for it once he fully remembers...

Where his life's long-wandering search (his original goal's 'destination') to finally confront and punish Knives for the death of Rem and causing the Great Fall in the first place, only led to another unprecedented catastrophe engulfing everyone he loves in July, but this time caused by himself! Nooooo--!

Flooded by his returning memories, his guilt, grief, despair and torment reach an inhuman degree of self-loathing and agony. (Warping to such a grotesque visual perception of himself within his own mind--cursed to bear this nightmarish reality he cannot escape or part from.) Utterly repentant for the horrific loss of life and monstrous sin against humanity his arm caused--as his greatest mistake he cannot undo, knowing that he's (already) a mass murderer who inherently wields the terrible power of death & destruction he never wanted to unleash or become!!! Not like that! ;o; (Cause just as he told Knives beforehand, "I'm not like you!" and then look what happened! Knives may hate and kill humans, but in the tragic irony and twisted reversal of that moment, Vash acting on his fear and hatred for Knives swept up and killed all those humans he loved along with it! aaaaa!!) And in Vash's distraught state of mind, fully taking the blame and responsibility for what he's done to July, how can he ever hope to atone or find peace or forgiveness for that....

(Cause he knows...he knows, that no matter what he does differently or how he chooses to bear the pain, the weight of all that guilt, that grief, that truth...can never escape him.)

"(I am a murderer)...All those people, those lives I extinguished...they were so kind..."

Significant even when it's described from the perspective of others, like Dr Conrad, who sees Vash having a terrifying power 'greater than anyone's ever seen or possessed' (even greater than Knives!) Zazie sees Knives & Vash as the 'natural enemies of humanity,' and even Midvalley views (them) as a 'higher existence that could will humankind's complete and utter extinction' on biblical scales of calamity...so just imagine holding all that feared power from Vash's perspective, knowing the disastrous extent and severe consequences of it being misused or going out of control again, at the risk of razing the entire world and everyone you love along with it. By naturally being a destroyer (whose very existence is a 'gun') who struggles against that by choosing to be a protector who saves instead! (No wonder Vash tightly binds and suppresses that other side of himself) And just...contending with all of that, and all that he's capable of unleashing, is the inhuman burden and reality Vash is forced to live with....

But even then, if his first confrontation with Knives at July resulted in so many collateral deaths, already breaking his promise to Rem years ago (by inadvertently killing those she sacrificed her life to save, ugh meaning his attempt to keep her memory alive and ensure her sacrifice for humanity wouldn't be in vain had already failed long ago) and his second confrontation led to Fifth Moon, then....what can Vash do the next time? Continue his usual pursuit to stop him and risk unleashing a third calamity?? What must he change in his approach, and what of his ongoing reason to live now?! Cause he can't just continue his 'send Knives to hell' mantra as his sole reason to keep on going anymore, as July already proved how attempting that backfired spectacularly, practically condemning Vash to suffer his own personal hell, intensified to the nth degree in exchange. As usual, even with the many revelations this volume, Vash still doesn't know or have any definitive answers to those questions yet. BUT by progressing the hard way even just from the little things, this becomes his ongoing struggle to figure out...

[mywritingonlyfans]

Adorable obsession. /// Graham Dunne X Reader.

prompt: he shows up to see you at every show possible of your band, until he take the courage to ask you out.

words: 1,1K.

warnings: none.

You were in the middle of a soundcheck with your band when you noticed a tall, lanky guy standing in the back of the room. He had a messy mop of brown curly hair and a slightly scruffy beard, but his bright blue eyes stood out against his clumsy appearance. He was watching you intently, and you couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious under his gaze. You were sure that if one day from now someone asked him what you looked like, he'd know how to describe you in detail, in the most sinister way. 

 As you played through your set, you found yourself stealing glances at him as well. He wasn't like the other guys who came to your shows, who were mostly just there to drink and pick up girls. And how did you know that? Well, you've noticed him hidden in the audience more than once. There was something different about him, something quite genuine.

 After the show, you were packing up your gear when you saw him approaching you. "Hey, great set," he said, his voice a little nervous, eyes right at the floor. Still, like a gentleman, he helped you to keep everything. 

 "Thanks," you replied, trying to hide your surprise at his sudden appearance. As you pointed out, you'd expect to see him at the band's shows, and yes, you've actually gotten used to looking for him among people, but he was quiet and focused on his own shoes, you didn't think he'd talk to you.

 "I'm Graham," he said, extending a hand. His eyebrows arched, eyes finally on you, and you broke into a tiny smile.

 "Nice to meet you, Graham. I'm–."

 Interrupting you, in a rather adorable way, he was even polite to shut you up, quite unbelievable, and added that he knew your name. "I've been coming to your shows for a while now, y’know," Graham blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I think you're an amazing keyboard player. And, uh, I think you're really cute too, if you allow me to say."

 You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your amusement. "Is that so?"

 "Yeah," Graham said, nodding eagerly. He understood her irony, but remained undaunted. "I was wonderin’ if you wanted to grab a drink or something sometime?"

 You couldn't help but smile at his earnestness. "Well, I don’t go out with fans," you said, reaching into your coat pocket and pulling it around your shoulders. You felt stupid, yet you couldn't trust every pretty face you saw in that business, let alone men.

 “Oh, sure, thing,” he became like a tomato, all lost in his feet. “Appears to be unethical, I understand.” And in a jolt of confidence, he went grinning with teeth and cute dimples showing, and this time, looking at you, he asked. "Wait, so you've noticed me here before?" He thought about adding that he was there for you, but besides that being too much, it would be something you obviously already knew.

 “Hm, maybe, I think,” you failed to sustain your character and ended up with hot cheeks and sweaty palms. He realized, consequently, the insecurity he had before you were gone. 

 Nervously, you reached into your pocket, pulling out a loose cigarette and fumbling for the lighter. He had spent countless hours daydreaming about how he could talk to you, organizing plans and possibilities in his head, which now seemed almost divine as he looked at you standing there in front of him. He suddenly remembered that he had a lighter, something he had only kept on him because he had imagined that if he ever talked to you, you might need it. He had also written his number on a clean napkin, with countless plans on how to use it, and now was the moment to put them into action.

 He came closer to you, feeling your scent engulf him completely, and lit the cigarette in between your fingers, he did make it extra, by holding your hand in his. It was not awkward; it felt quite natural, and he hoped you felt the same. He whispered a small "I've got you, honey," before walking away, leaving you feeling comforted by the lingering scent of mint that he had. Up close, his eyes were even bluer than you had thought, and you couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch his pretty curls.

 As you were lost in your thoughts, a laughing boy suddenly interrupted you. He had his hands in his pockets and seemed pleased to have found Graham with you, but he claimed he needed to take Graham away. You smiled politely, nodding at him sympathetically, and he did the same before leaving without another word.

 Left alone again, you felt a sense of loss creeping in that quickly replaced the comfort of Graham's presence that had been there before. You couldn't help but hope to see him at the next show.

 Still feeling haunted by the night, as soon as you got home, your heart picked up speed, and the adrenaline seemed to kick in again. In your pocket was a crumpled napkin, which you found yourself curious about even though you had almost thrown it away. As you read the blue ink on it, you smiled seeing Graham's number followed by a message, "For the most talented keyboard player with the most striking eyes I've ever seen, here's my number in case you want to give me a chance!" This time, you didn't resist, dialing his phone number as soon as you finished reading it. You barely let him speak before you said, "You have a date with me tomorrow. You better be there, Graham."

 His face lit up and it was like you could feel him through the call. He was actually smiling, jumping up and down with the phone in his hand as Camila and Warren cheered for him. You could hear everything and he didn't care, it was how he genuinely felt. "Yeah, tomorrow works great. Just give me the name of the place and I’ll be there waiting for you, my girl." You laughed at that, warming his chest up.

 As the call broke apart, you couldn't help but feel a little giddy. There was something about Graham that was different from anyone else you had ever met, you could be wrong, but you had to get to explore it. You couldn't wait to get to know him better.

...

i have a fanfic with karen posted, it's on my blog in case you're interested in reading it!

[oysters-aint-for-me]

my first time watching succession: oh my god kendall roy is such tragic figure. logan is such an asshole. shiv’s got so much anger and tom’s so sad. this show is so heartbreaking. what the hell. roman is funny, though. greg too. also they say “fuck” way too much.

second time watching succession: wait this is a goddamn comedy isn’t it? lmao kendall roy is just a little clown baby. connor is my favorite character because i hate him so much. willa is my second favorite character because i hate connor so much. kendall is fucking insufferable. wait kendall almost DIED?!* i think they still use “fuck” too much.

third time watching succession: oh wow. ok. this show is funny, but also it’s about the tragedy of sexual violence and the way it has subtly and unnoticeably crept into and then metastasized throughout every branch of this media conglomerate, which in turn influences the minds of at least half of the country. yikes ok. roman is a strange little creature. kendall is actually insufferable from the beginning of the show—his issues are exacerbated with drugs but there’s something deeper going on. i no longer think they overuse the word “fuck.” in fact, i think i could write an essay on the way they use the word “fuck.”

fourth time watching succession: oh okay this show isn’t just about the slow and subtle creep of sexual violence throughout the business and the way it waits to blow up suddenly like a time bomb—it’s also about the blatant sexual violence that is thrown in your face from the very first episode but which you overlook or don’t notice because we’re so desensitized to the use of sexual language to describe business activities. it probably means something that even though logan claims to have never actually committed any sexual assault, his medical issues are still often related to his dick, but in a not-sexual way—compare how he went piss mad from a UTI to how sandy furness had dementia because of a sexually transmitted infection (even though that’s probably a rumor, logan did start it). and the show is also about childhood trauma and neglect, and roman roy is the most fascinating character to walk across my screen since i don’t even know. i can’t even articulate what it is i find so interesting about him, but it has to do with how he is so flexible with his words so that everyone thinks he’s on their side and he kind of really IS on everyone’s side, because he wants to be liked sooo bad and the details don’t matter as much as that. and it’s also about bodily autonomy and sex as power vs sex as love vs sex as whatever the hell is going on between greg & tom. i am obsessed with the way the roys will say “(x) fucked me” and so rarely add the usual “over” to the phrase, turning every description of revenge or betrayal into an act of sexual violence. i could write a fucking dissertation on the way the show uses the word “fuck.”

*i was drunk when i watched the last two episodes and completely missed a healthy chunk of them. the irony of this is not lost on me.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

hi big brother ! so i had an idea. what about headcanons for when mc has to go somewhere for some time, how would the m6 deal with it ? maybe spraying mc's perfume on a pillow and hugging it or writing every thought they have about mc. (this is totally not a self-indulgent idea (◔◡◔✿) )

The Arcana HCs: M6 when MC goes on a trip

~ hi little sister! oh my, what a completely not self-indulgent prompt. I'll be sure to stay extra uninspired while I write it (joking) @elysian-chaos I hope you like these! - brainrot ~

Julian

You're going on a trip? Without him? Why?!

Oh. Are you sure you don't need him to go with you?

Doesn't try to convince you otherwise, but will tell you that he'll miss you. To avoid falling into old habits, he decides that everything he does is "for MC."

He leaves the clinic on time without overworking himself "for MC." He only has one drink at the Rowdy Raven "for MC." He eats three times a day and drinks water at least twice "for MC."

He brushes his teeth "for MC." He puts on his coat "for MC." He washes his dishes "for MC." He clips his toenails "for MC."

Portia and Mazelinka start to give him grief for the amount of times a day he murmurs "for MC" before doing something mundane with a heroic air, but he lets them in return for crashing at their places

Because going through the day is busy and distracting enough, but when he gets home and it's exactly the way it was when he left? When he can't hear anyone else breathing in the house?

He hasn't spent one night at home since the first one after you left, choosing instead to show up at Mazelinka's or Portia's right before dinner with the biggest puppy dog eyes they've ever seen

He sporadically writes you long, poetry filled love letters, and sleeps with your replies tucked against his heart

When you get back his ginger chest hair is stained blue in splotches from where the ink rubbed off

Asra

Ah, the sweet, sweet taste of poetic justice

Asra's delightfully humble when you rub it in their face - they're the first to point out the irony and suggest they run the shop for you

He makes sure you have everything you need before you leave, puts you in touch with several trustworthy friends, encourages you through any travel anxiety, and waves happily at you as you walk out

And then they mope

The shop starts opening later and later, customers walk in to find a sleepy and depressed Asra behind the counter, and even Aisha and Salim have a tricky time cheering him up

Until two days in when they look up to the sound of the shop bell, and there's Muriel, grumpily following through on your request to check up on Asra while you're gone

Which results in the mountain man standing stoically in front of the counter, trying not to give in to his oldest friend's infectious laughter at how the tables have turned

Seeing how much his visits perk him up has Muriel dropping by almost every afternoon until you return, and the two have a great time catching up on life

Muriel even gets the chance to repay years of teasing when he goes upstairs and sees that Asra has dragged your entire wardrobe onto the bed so they can snooze buried in your smell

You have a lot of laundry to do when you get back

Nadia

Almost smothers you with everything you need

Transportation? Clothes? Funds? Useful tools to not get lost? Enough paper and ink to write her a ten page letter every day?

She admires your determination to do this on your own merit and decides that she is going to follow suit. She is going to spend the extra time being the best Countess she can for Vesuvia (and you)

Two days in she can't stand the loneliness any more. Where is her MC when she just wants to sit back and relax after a long day? Where can she find someone who'll just treat her like a person?

She quickly finds that most of your mutual friends are unfortunately busy

Desperate times call for desperate measures

She writes to her sisters

Over the next few days, the Satrinava siblings descend on the Palace in hordes. The workload has never been so light, which leads to unexpectedly empty afternoons

And oh, those afternoons are so much more fun than she could have ever expected. Exploring the Heart and Temple districts, riding through the fields, even sparring and dance matches

She would almost feel guilty for how much fun she's having in your absence if she wasn't purchasing everything she saw that reminded her of you

You get home to a pile of presents and lots of sisterly teasing

Muriel

He's sad to see you go, but he's not hugely bothered

He knows you're a competent traveler, and to be honest, he could use a little alone time. He loves you, but he also likes his introvert recharging time and he's used to being a little more isolated

Starts to get frustrated because for someone who likes being alone, it's a lot harder to enjoy than he remembers

Until he opens the door to his hut after a walk with Inanna to see Asra snoozing in front of the fire

It seems you saw fit to have them return all the favors Muriel did when they were the ones going off on a trip (they were more than happy to humor you) and make sure he didn't get too lonely

Between Asra's love for shaking things up and his own restlessness without you, Muriel suggests renovating the hut to surprise you

The two of them first built it when they were kids, so they know they can do better. It ends up being more fun than either of them expect and they get to really talk for the first time since the plague

The hut itself turns out beautifully - the beams are reinforced, it's given a new floor, any rickety furniture is repaired and replaced, and Asra takes it upon themself to paint the entire interior in beautiful detail

You get home to a yard full of chickens wearing mini bow ties (don't ask) and a Muriel who is very happy to have you back

Portia

Oh dear, you lowkey triggered her a little bit when you told her you were going on a trip by yourself

This is exactly how it always goes! The cool person she loves and admires takes off on an adventure and forgets all about her!

Until you remind her that the reason she can't join you is because she's also scheduled for a very cool trip to a different country as a representative of Vesuvia

The first half of your trip goes well with both of you on the road. She tracks your itinerary on one of her many maps and writes you letters with updates on Pepi and the crew every day

Until her trip ends halfway through yours and she's stuck waiting in Vesuvia until you get back

The only moment she stops to breathe is when she writes your daily letter and cooks herself dinner (all of them your favorites)

Other than that, she's too busy working to stay distracted. When she runs out of things to do at the Palace, she deep cleans her cottage, and then Julian's house, and tries to clean Mazelinka's

It's when Mazelinka looks over mid-afternoon to see Portia bustling in the door with a cutlass she "borrowed" from the Palace armory, begging for a distraction, that she intervenes

You get back to an empty cottage, only to find out that Portia's been challenging the Palace guards to sparring matches and sleeping at Mazelinka's every night

Lucio

You're going on a trip? Without him? Why?! (pt. 2)

He knows that the job you've accepted will work better with only one person, and he knows that of the two of you you're the one who practices magic, but still!

Alternates between grumbling about you leaving and cheering you on because you're so cool, you don't need help, you've got this!

Thankfully, the town he stays in waiting for you knows and loves both of you and is happy to host one of their regular journeymen for the two days you'll be gone

This is fortunate, because Lucio's response to missing you is deciding to learn magic, regardless of his natural ability (or lack thereof) and ignoring the fact that he has nobody to teach him

After you leave that morning, he spends the rest of the day out in some poor farmer's field practicing magical attacks on their hay bales while Mercedes and Melchior terrorize all the local wildlife

He stops by the tavern for dinner early that evening, and after several drinks, decides to camp out in the town's square belting out tone-deaf ballads of your virtues

The townspeople love him for all he's done on different jobs for their sake, so the next morning they take turns asking for his assistance with different tasks to keep him out of trouble

You get back that evening to half the town telling you how much he missed you and a very tired (but satisfied) Lucio

[mixtape-racha]

it's a scream, baby! | hyunlix

chapter thirteen: ...to see what your insides look like

words: 1.26k // warnings: depictions of injuries, anonymous phone call

OFFICIAL GHOSTFACE KILL COUNT: 010

she didn’t stop pushing the bike to go faster until the house left her peripheral vision. changbin basically lived in the middle of nowhere, so she still had 10 or 20 minutes until she reached the town, but in her haste she had forgotten to check how much petrol was in the tank before taking off. she cursed loudly as the bike trundled to a stop, merely a mile and a half away from changbin’s home.

she knew that somewhere around the area was a shortcut into the town that didn’t involve trudging down the highway, and so she wandered aimlessly to find the path she so desperately needed in that moment. she had no idea if the intruder had followed her, and without the bike, there was no telling how fast they’d catch up to her. honestly, she had only walked for maybe 5 minutes before something caught her attention, whipping herself around with the gun raised in case it was the killer descending.

a gasp of shock left her lips as she realized that couldn’t be further from the truth - in reality, she had stumbled across a wrecked car, in the midst of some bushes at the outskirts of the woods. she inched closer, recognizing the car from somewhere. she definitely knew that car, but she couldn’t be sure where it was from. she had a sneaking suspicion building under her skin, but she didn’t want that to be true. it could be, could it? fuck… it was changbin’s car.

it was practically impaled on a tree, the front end completely crushed, and (y/n) could only hope that changbin had managed to escape the crash without any major injuries. but, of course, with the universe against her in that moment, as she got closer she saw a blood splatter across the inside of the windshield.

the glass was practically falling out of the windshield, shattered beyond repair and only adding to the effect of the dented and destroyed front end of the car. the airbags had gone off, which (y/N0 quickly noticed had changbin’s body resting on them. there was no way he would’ve survived a crash like that - blood pooling from his head, arm bend at almost an impossible angle. his legs would have been trapped under the steering wheel with the way the car had folded in on itself, and (y/n) choked out a sob at the sight. she wondered if he cried for help, or tried to escape. she wondered if he put up a fight, tried to escape his fate. she didn’t want him to have died thinking no one cared. she wanted him to know how loved he was, and how hard she would’ve fought to save him if she could.

merely a week and a half ago, she had taken all of her friends out for a meal. she insisted on paying, even when they tried to refuse, jokingly commenting on never knowing when the last time they’d be able to go out a eat together would be. god, how the world had a a cruel way of using irony. here she was now, most of her friends dead. all she had left was yeji - who was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, jisung - who had disappeared with no way of contacting him, and felix - oh felix, who seemed to vanish into thin air with only a trace of blood left behind.

(y/n) was a disciple of horror and slasher movies, and so knew that without vivid proof of a body there was no way of telling whether a character was dead or not. it was with this knowledge that she clinged onto the faint hope that jisung and felix were still alive, no matter how silly it sounded. she couldn’t lose them too, not now. not after she’d lost everything else.

she was so caught up in her own thoughts as she trudged down the road headed towards the town, that she screamed when he phone rang out loudly. she had completely forgot she had it, and answered without so much as looking at who was phoning, her mind only on one thing.

“lixie, is that you? or sungie, please. please, tell me its either of you–” she rambled, hand gripped onto the device like it was a lifeline. a dark, distorted chuckle came through the speaker, and instantly her stomach turned. oh god, not now….

“poor, poor, little, (y/n). lost all your little friends, huh? what a shame…” the voice tutted, the tone making her skin crawl.

“fuck you,” she instantly bit back, feeling anger rise in her body. “absolutely fuck you, you cretin. you’re disgusting.” the words were basically spat out, and she couldn't fathom why she was even entertaining such a phone call.

“oh angel face, such horrible words. bet you didn’t know i’m doing this for you, hmm? couldn’t have all those horrible men ogling at what’s mine, can i?”

“the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“it means, little love,” the voice drawled, clearly getting off on drawing out the interaction. “you’re mine, (y/n). i never wanted to hurt you, i just needed to show you that you’re mine. those silly boys you kept around - they weren’t friends. they were just waiting for the right time to get in your pants, to defile my perfect angel.”

(y/n) scoffed, disgusted that whatever freak was on the other end of the phone could even fathom that as a good motive. “oh yeah? what were heejin, jinyoung, nari and areum? because i barely knew them. they sure as hell weren’t trying to ‘defile me’.” she knew that venom was dripping off of her words, and she just hoped it got the point across. the last thing she wanted was for the other victims to die for no reason, that would be even more awful.

the voice huffed, as if the question was an inconvenience, with no real need to be answered.

“lets call it collateral damage, hmm? but we have more pressing matters, angel. like your precious hyunjin, isn’t that right, pretty boy?”

she stayed silent for a second, confused by the words, until she heard a sickening crack - almost like a bone breaking - and an earth-shattering scream. hyunjin. he wasn’t dead after all.

but now wasn’t the time to dwell on that, what the hell was happening to him?

“don’t you dare fucking hurt him anymore, you asshole.” she spat, scowling as the killer simply laughed at her.

“better get your pretty ass back here then, hmm? because if not, well…. i might just trip and slit his pretty throat properly this time. and you wouldn’t want that on your conscious, would you?”

the killer couldn’t seriously be trying to spin this on her. telling her that her decision to run away or return to his trap would decide hyunjin’s fate? make her decide whether he lives or dies? that was next level fucked up, even for this guy.

“you’re insane. you’re crazy. you’re a psycho–”

“oh, well i’m not hearing any agreement. what if i let that pretty little head think on it, yeah? come back by midnight, or you’re the one who signed hyunjin’s death certificate.”

all she could hear in the background was hyunjin’s cries and pleas for her not to listen, not to risk her own life like that. but she knew what she had to do - she had to go back. call it a hero complex, or just basic human morals, but she wouldn’t let hyunjin die if she could stop it.

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[sailorblossoms-snowbaz]

Yet another Jealous Simon post

Saw this scene again here and it just hit me that this is lost in the hilarious irony of Simon saying “nobody is seducing a vampire” while Baz is Right There like “am I a joke to you?” but CO is already telling you that Simon answering “who am I jealous over, Baz or Agatha?” with “both, I guess” is bullshit right here too (it’s the easiest answer to avoid processing).

I mean… I was logging on here saying “Simon’s romantic jealousy is only about Baz” (and sexual, or however the fuck you want to name it) because he doesn’t give a fuck about Agatha having male attention or having had a boyfriend while he was mistakenly telling himself “he wanted her” (he didn’t want her, he wanted to be like her, he’s finding her aspirational in the memory he uses as an example when he’s tellingly like 12, when he should have plenty to draw from during their time dating or before if he actually wanted her – he has nothing!) (and we only learn shit like that in her own POV, or when Baz calls Dev), Simon snatching Baz’s handkerchief from her and keeping it to himself, “nobody knows Baz better than me” (he’s even seeing Agatha as competition), essentially making a jealous scene to Baz (can’t listen to what Baz is trying to say because he can’t get past “did you have to hold her hands??”) etc. But I can’t believe I missed this shit.

In the scene is question, Penny and Baz are talking about “seducing” Nicodemus (I’m pretty sure Baz is just being a little shit here). It’s Penny’s idea, and Simon’s response is basically “none of my female friends are seducing a vampire” (he, however, is perfectly allowed to seduce one) because note that Penny is presented as an option first, and Simon’s reaction is “no.” Immediately. Then Penny singles out Agatha, saying she was thinking about her seducing a Vampire… and Simon’s reaction? Fucking nothing. He’s completely focused on telling Agatha they’re not doing anything illegal instead. And after that, he says The Line. Simon has a much stronger reaction to Penny. Penny singles out Agatha, but Simon’s reaction singles out Penny… which firmly establishes this line as platonic concern over the girls, rather than jealousy because Agatha might be seducing someone. Agatha and Penny are grouped together here, put on the same level (and, as usual, Penny comes first… note that whenever Simon brings up important people in his life, Penny is always leading his list, even when he’s like “oh well I’m dating Agatha, shouldn’t I put her higher in my list?) (when it’s a general “important people” in his life, he mentions her second – he mentions her dad too, the mage is third iirc – when it’s Agatha The Girlfriend? She’s dead last) (tellingly, Baz is talked about constantly before either list is brought up). With Agatha, the only time Simon has a reaction to her being around a vampire is when it’s Baz. When he doesn’t feel like he can “trust her” to be around Baz. Even when he’s not explicit about this or it might deceivingly look like it’s the other way around, Simon establishes her as competition through his actions and behavior, and only ever cares if the “target” is Baz.

With Simon’s closest friends, he draws the line at “seducing” a vampire. With Baz? He draws the line at talking to them. When he’s kissing him, one of the things he’s thinking is “I’m not ever letting him go, I like him under my hands, not off plotting and talking to vampires.” Baz should be kissing Simon, not doing objectionable things such as “plotting” and “talking to vampires”…. I’m repeating this shit right here for emphasis because italics aren’t enough.

And if it needs to be more obvious… enter Lamb in the next book. Simon, who already had a problem with Baz talking to other vampires, goes along with this because they think it’s the only way to get information to rescue our good pal Agatha… he’s not even fucking contemplating seducing, and then All That happens. Then Simon has to hear Baz doing more than talking (he’s flirting!! And having milkshakes! And practically DATING the vampire!!!). He immediately reacts to Baz saying “maybe he wants privacy” with “fuck that, we’re all going” even while talking about other things and eating (only Baz gets more attention than food, which Simon puts no.1 in his list of favorite things when going to Warford, even before Penny) (with Agatha the reaction is the opposite: he’s focusing on the discussion). We know what happens later (Simon attempts murder) (screaming “I’m his boyfriend” at Lamb as his introduction… classic “he’s taken, so back off bitch” move).

Then in awtwb, he’s strongly opposed to sending Baz “alone on a mission.” Las Vegas has him traumatized. He puts “you’re not going alone because it could be dangerous” on the same level as “I’m not listening to you have another date.” Except “I’m not listening to my boyfriend talk to other men (who might be interested in him and might try to make a move while I’m here, unable to do shit about it)” is perhaps the most distressing thought, because in Vegas, Simon trusted Baz to keep himself safe, but after Vegas, he can’t trust Baz in the latter situation because he has no vibe-check. Important things are at play, and rather than focusing on that (like he focuses on “we’re not doing anything illegal”) he’s focusing on “no way in hell I’m letting my boyfriend go there by himself when he might end up on another date without even realizing while I listen. Fuck no, not again. I’m not strong enough.”

[klanceogies]

hi i have klance f1 au brainrot

i can't stop thinking about little story details and backstories like. keith's dad was in f1 before. i feel like he didn't die in an f1 crash. maybe a regular car crash. the irony of this guy who races in incredibly fast speeds to be killed by something so ordinary, in a car, but not an f1 one. and it wasn't even his fault. some drunk driver or something. he didn't die on an f1 car because speed isn't what kills you, it's suddenly stopping that does.

also still talking about keith's background, keith coming from an f1 family background makes so much sense in my mind. him being an orphan would make it basically impossible to sustain himself in such an expensive sport as a kid like that. but since he was already in the scene, and people respected his dad, he had connections and sponsors (not to mention he had always shown that he was a prodigy in the sport so people were willing to bet on him and support him and his career). he met shiro through that environment too.

he also skipped f2 like a lot of really skilled rookies, but he popped into f1 seemingly "out of nowhere" years after a controversy in his f3 days. it goes like this: james, little asshole james coming close second in that season, is a shit person. he is just fucking mean. and keith has been having a shit year. and idk if you're gonna agree with this but hear me out. shiro crashes. like badly. like career-ending crash. he loses his arm and he is in the hospital, and of course he eventually makes a great recovery, but right now no one knows it yet. they just know that at the very least shiro is never going to race again. they don't know how his recovery is gonna go, IF he is going to recover.

keith is alone. since the death of his dad, he is completely alone. so yeah keith starts to lose it a little bit. and this season has been proving harder than expected, james closing the point gap for first place. the media can't stop making up stories about him, shiro was in the hospital, he had a lot issues with his team manageament, which made his season unnecessarily harder. with all of that, keith becomes more reckless. he has nothing to lose--only the championship.

so, a race happens. bad choices are made. of course james provoked him, coming too close, crashing into him races before but not being too penalized for it. saying some very unkind things about keith and his brother, who was still on the hospital. being a little shit overall. so keith closes in on james, a similar situation as hamilton and verstappen in silverstone back in 2021 (as a max girlie this makes me pissed off but oh well). james runs into the wall. thankfully james's injuries weren't very serious, but he got a broken hand which was enough to make him unable to drive until the end of the championship.

now keith was the champion, right? without james on the next races there is no competition anymore. but keith isn't very happy. his impusiveness damaged his car, and at the very least he will get a grid penalty for provoking that accident. well, it is worse. he is black flagged (idk a lot about black flags but like. provoking a crash like that SHOULD prompt a black flag tbh). his engineer tells him he might be suspended for a few races and he LOSES IT. he really needs more mental health help cause he disobeys the black flag and is even more severely penalized. he really is suspended for the next few races, and basically, it screws everything. he finally lost everything he ever had. and maybe, in some twisted way, he felt like he deserved every single part of it. self sabotage and all of that. well, the media goes crazy because everyone thought he would be the next schumacher when he got older. he dips out of the face of the planet. no one thinks this kid will ever race again. "too unstable" some say. "he is just crazy" others mutter. with no one to help him and sponsors dropping him he is now helpless.

that year, lance won the f3 championship. which pretty much sucked. with keith and james out of picture he was the obvious third place. it helps him get promoted to f2. he was doing great already, but he still felt so undeserving. he didn't beat james nor keith. he was just put on that first place podium. he didn't work for it.

after that year lance and keith didn't talk for a while. keith is benched. put out of the spotlights for a while. he does other races, but out of the classic formula path. just because his team hasn't given up on his world champion potential just yet. so they keep him at arm's length, but further from the media than if he was an actual competitor. to the average fan he just disappeared (well, the average fan doesn't even watch f2, much less f3). in the end, his return is even more impactful, memorable.

about 3 years later keith comes back. he first starts as an f1 reserve driver. substituting another driver that year make people actually see him again. how much he has changed. and how much he is still is hungry for speed. hungry for victory.

[nuh-uh-multi]

Fluent

Hey hey! It's A, posting pretty soon, I know. But I got inspo. Shout-out to one of my friends who helped me come up with the start of this fic lol. Hope y'all like Tony, bc I do 😉

•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•

"Mr.(Y/l/n), Mr.Stark has requested your presence," Jarvis announced from the speaker placed just above your desk. It startled you, as it was well hidden, and you were relatively new here.

"Of course," you said. "Uh, where is he?"

"Top floor," Jarvis replied.

You hurried to the elevator and pushed the corresponding button. You felt as though you were forgetting something, but brushed it off as nerves. Your boss likely just wanted to speak with you about something. What, was the question. Were you in trouble? Had you done something wrong? No, stop, you were getting ahead of yourself, it could be anything.

Your stomach fluttered as you envisioned the conversation. Those deep brown eyes looking into yours, the way he stood so confidently, his rich, smooth voice, but the real kicker, that smirk.

It had made your pulse race since the first time you saw it on TV. That cocky, arrogant, infuriating, and completely stomach flipping smirk. You could only imagine what it must be like to be teased by him. To become so flustered that you couldn't meet his eyes, that he would probably grab your chin and make you look at him, all while saying things to fluster you further, and that perfect little smirk, directed at no one but you.

The elevator dinged and you almost flinched as the doors slid open. You took a deep breath and walked out. There he was, Anthony Edward Stark, his hands on his desk, and his back to you. He quickly turned and held his hand out expectantly. You blinked at him, confused. Tony gave you a quick once over and realized you weren't holding anything.

"Oh, I was expecting you to have that report," he said, his tone serious, but playful. He clearly wasn't mad, but you felt yourself filling with humiliation anyway.

"Oh- oh my god, I'm so sorry, I forgot it downstairs, I-it's done I swear I just forgot it..." you rambled, your face burning.

Tony chuckled and, bless and curse the lords, smirked at you. "Well what exactly did you think I called you here for?" he teased.

Your face flushed somehow hotter. "Oh, um, I guess I didn't really know," you mumbled sheepishly.

Tony chuckled and shook his head slightly. "Well c'mon, we'll just go down and get it. I was about to go for a quick drive anyway," he said with a smile.

You nodded quickly and walked back twords the elevator. You got to the doors and froze, wondering if he expected you to let him in first, or if it would be seen as trying too hard. Tony glanced at you and smiled, gesturing you in.

You, much too quickly, took a step in, and stumbled. You quickly caught yourself and straightened up, but you could feel the back of your neck burning. Tony walked in after you, clearly trying to suppress a smile.

You pressed the button for the correct floor, somehow shocked that you could even think enough to remember which one that was, and watched the doors close.

You both stood in a somewhat awkward silence for a few moments. You opened your mouth to say something and break the silence, but before you could even make a sound, the elevator jolted harshly. You both stumbled, catching the rails on the elevator walls.

After only a few seconds of stunned silence, Tony said, "Aaand the elevator broke." You groaned and slid to the ground.

"So, how good is your elevator repair service?" you asked dryly.

Tony chuckled and said down next to you. "Not great, not horrible."

You sighed, and the irony of the situation was not lost on you. A guy, with a crush on his boss, now stuck in an elevator with said boss. Talk about Hallmark.

"So, how do you pass time in an elevator?" you asked, turning to look at him.

"20 questions?" Tony offered. "I mean, this is kinda the perfect time to get to know your boss," he said, and goddamn it that smirk again.

"Yeah, sure," you agreed. You hummed in thought for a moment, wracking your brain for anything interesting you had read about him. "According to the news," you began awkwardly, "you're fluent in Italian. Is that true?"

Tony laughed softly. "Sure is, my mom was Italian," he answered.

"I don't believe you," you said with a smirk, wildly unsure of how you suddenly had this much confidence.

Tony laughed again. "Oh, is that so? Alright then, quiz me."

You pulled out you phone and found a translator. "What does 'Sono bloccato in un ascensore con il mio capo' mean?"

"I'm stuck in an elevator with my boss," Tony answered confidently.

You raised a brow at him, impressed. "Hm, alright. Those kinda seem like words anyone could study though, so I think I have to keep testing," you said smugly. You typed in something else. "What does 'Un'anatra si avvicinò a un chiosco di limonata' mean?"

Tony snorted and sang, "A duck walked up to a lemonade stand. The "actual" translation is "A duck approached a lemonade stand," but, close enough."

You laughed. "Are you sure you're not wearing an instant translator?" you asked.

"Swear on my life," he replied.

You bit your bottom lip, trying to think of a challenge. Aha, a word he surely doesn't know in Italian, the t-word.

"Alright, fine," you said with a confident smirk. "What does 'Mi piace essere solleticato' mean?"

Tony raised a brow at you. "It means "I like to be tickled." Is that true?"

You could feel your eyes widen and face flush, shocked that he had actually gotten it. "Wow, you weren't kidding when you said you were fluent," you mused, trying to sound more impressed than nervous.

"Hey, don't change the subject," Tony said, grinning widely now. "Is that true?"

Your breaths were short and shallow, so you shook your head. "No" you attempted to say, but your mouth was dry. You swallowed and tried again. "No, of course not, it was just a weird word, so I was quizzing you," you lied.

Tony hummed and scooted just a bit closer. "See, it's a convincing lie, but not with the way you said it," he replied, sliding ever closer until he was sitting right next to you.

"W-what are you doing?" you asked nervously.

"Quizzing you," Tony teased, his fingers skimming your side through your shirt.

You yelped and swatted at his hand.

"Okay, you've passed the first test, you're ticklish" Tony purred with a devious grin. He grabbed your side, giving it a rapid succession of squeezes.

You burst out laughing, trying to move away, but ending up trapped in the corner of the elevator.

"Aw, your laugh is so cute!" Tony praised, smiling genuinely.

"Shut up!" you laughed in return.

Tony clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Aw, that wasn't very nice," he teased, spidering his fingers up your sides and ribs.

"Hey!" you protested, letting out a constant stream of giggles.

"So, for all of my genius, I seem to have some brain fog today. How many ribs do people have?" Tony questioned with a coy grin.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, trying desperately to remember. That was, of course, until you realized it didn't matter. "I-I don't know," you admitted.

Tony chuckled softly and tapped your ribs. "Well I guess I'll just have to count them," he decided. "One, two, three..." With each number, he would gently vibrate his hands over the rib, as well as in the space between ribs.

He was teasing you, goddamn it, and you knew that you both enjoyed it. You giggled like a child, and felt like one too. Carefree, and full of light, refreshing laughter. So you just say there and laughed. As his hands rose to some of the higher ribs, however, you clamped you arms tightly against your sides.

"Hm? Why the change?" Tony asked, his eyes sparkling. "I'm not doing anything different, only going higher-" He cut himself off by swiftly grabbing your wrists and pressing them against the elevator walls above your head. He experimentally wiggled his fingers near your now exposed armpits, without actually touching you.

You squealed and tugged your wrists, already squirming and trying to protect yourself. Tony laughed and smiled brightly. "What? I'm not even touching you!" he teased. "Don't tell me you're this ticklish?"

You blushed and averted your gaze, wishing your hands were free to cover your face. You felt something under your chin, a gentle pulling, and oh my god he was doing it. Tony gently held your head so that you were forced to meet his gaze. "I'm not making fun of you, it's adorable," he murmured admiringly.

You couldn't help but feel your heart swell. Something in his expression made you want to believe him. You could tell that he was being genuine. You didn't know what to say, and thankfully it didn't matter anyway, as he attacked your armpits. His scratching and wiggling fingers forced laughter from you as a result, filling the would-be awkward silence.

Tony stopped almost as quickly as had started, as you immediately started wriggling somewhat violently. "Woah, okay, okay, sorry," he chuckled, still smiling.

"Sorry," you panted sheepishly, offering him a flustered smile.

He returned the gesture and said "Don't be." He leaned back against the elevator wall again. "I like making my employees happy. Plus," he turned to wink and smirk at you, "I told you I was fluent, didn't I?"

[lucky-dreamfisher]

Controversial opinion: the weakest part of BATDR is the story

There’s no denying that BATDR is a better game in terms of graphics and gameplay. I’ve seen AAA titles with worse looks and design.

But I feel like BATIM was a superior game when it comes to the story.

Characters had no buildup. In BATIM almost every major character got some kind of backstory and buildup before we met them. Sammy had multiple tapes in Chapter 2, Susie had multiple tapes, Bertrum did, even Tom. The only character with seemingly no past was Allison, everyone else was a fully fleshed-out individual. People also sort of assumed that Boris was Wally because of how much character development and backstory Wally got through the tapes. This was retconned later in the books, but at the time of the game we all thought we had a significant amount of knowledge about the characters we meet in it.

When Porter got a character sheet posted on twitter, we all thought he’d be an important character. Instead he’s just... there. Show’s up for 5 minutes, passes on his power and disappears. Blink and you’ll miss him, he had no more screen time than Heidi. The two of them could easily have been replaced by buttons with the sign “press here for new power” and nothing of value would be lost. They have no past, and no role in the story. Compare them to Boris, where the entire plot of chapter 4 is about saving him. He mattered. The fact that he was there mattered.

And it’s not like there was no time to develop the characters. The game has dozens of notes and audio logs, but they all come from random people, who we never hear from again. You could easily replace some of them with memos about Porter’s backstory, or Heidi’s, or Betty’s. A lot of those audio logs are voiced by youtubers and I feel like JDS prioritized giving youtubers guest cameos over making the character they voice actually have a place in the story.

In BATIM the enemies were also thematically linked with the place we met them in. Chapter 2 takes place in the Music Department, so it makes sense that the main character appearing in the tapes would be the Music Director, and he would be the one we’re fighting at the end. Chapter 4 takes place in Bendyland, so the tapes are about a theme park designer and the enemy is that designer in the form of an attraction. In BATDR we have that one spider boss fight, but what is this, why is it there, how is it linked thematically with the rest of the chapter? I guess Shipley got slightly more reason to exist, but the idea of him was introduced in the last 5 minutes. There was no buildup.

Why even divide the story into chapters if these chapters have no underlying theme? Can you guys even remember what each chapter’s plot is about? I’ve watched the playthroughs 3 times and I still can’t, because it all just seems so... random. A collection of random scenes, random enemies, random tapes. This may have been intentional, because the current “master” of the story is Wilson, who has no relation to JDS the way Joey did, but story being bad on purpose, wrapped in 3 layers of irony, is still a bad story.

Finally: the ending felt underwhelming. it’s completely incomprehensible to someone who hasn’t played the previous game. In BATIM, Henry killing the Ink Demon with the End Reel made sense, because we had it explained to us what the ink demon is and how the End Reel works: Bendy was created as a living cartoon, and he has never seen “the end” of the cartoon. Henry also had a personal connection to both Bendy and the end reel, as Bendy was his creation, and the end reel came from the cartoon he personally animated, which was stolen to rob him of his achievements. In BATDR Henry just says “oh yeah get that one random gizmo and it will kill this random demon walking around that we know nothing about” but it didn’t have to be the end reel, it could’ve been anything. Could’ve been a gent pipe, could’ve been a bullet from the tommy gun, and it would’ve worked just as well. There was no thematic setup, and very little personal connection to Audrey.

It’s ok to omit some information that’s available in the earlier installments of the franchise, but that should only go for secondary objects and characters. The ending especially should feel like a natural conclusion of the journey you went through in the game you’re playing right now, not the one before it. It would have made much more sense for Audrey to defeat the ink demon by using her special powers, as those powers were built up throughout the narrative. Instead, it’s like she completely forgets she ever had them, and she’s handed the ultimate weapon that’s irrelevant to her character. Audrey has no connection to the reel, and very little connection to Bendy, as the game doesn’t ever explain to us Joey’s role in creating him, instead choosing to highlight Gent’s role in the experiments and Wilson’s role in separating the two versions of Bendy. It essentially feels like winning the final fight by using a last minute cheat, instead of something you’ve been actively working on and developing throughout your journey.

tl;dr BATDR is less of a story and more like a collection of random “wouldn’t it be cool if..?” moments, with no glue tying it together. BATIM was just better and I hope that the next game will follow the lead of BATIM storytelling more than BATDR storytelling.

[modelbus]

again I need to say that I am so sorry, but I'm repeating the whole spiel once again T-T I looked at the requests info and realized i might not have been so specific. please disregard the last two messages i am so sorry

could you do a cc!tommyinnit x reader (romantic) where the reader has an eye condition that makes them not be able to see in the dark (their eyes don't adjust in the darkness like other peoples do), and reader is chilling with the bench trio or their doing something in the dark (like laser tag) but then it's dark so they can't see and keep tripping over things and bumping into walls and Tommy is just like "are you ok let me help you" and its just fluff

ok thank you T-T

No worries! This is such a cool request, I was so excited to finally write it!

Pairing: CC!Tommy x Gn!reader (romantic)

Dark Days

You were completely and utterly doomed.

Listening to the laser tag worker explain how to play, that was your only thought. How could it not be?

Tommy had invited you to hang out with him, Tubbo, and Ranboo, and play some laser tag at the new place that had just opened up. Like an absolute fool, you accepted. Which was, to say, a little problematic for a few reasons.

Firstly, your boyfriend was grinning like a maniac looking at the laser tag guns. It was a little concerning and you were starting to worry if Tommy had an actual problem.

Secondly, you couldn't see in the dark. At all. Your pupils didn't dilate properly in the dark, leaving you completely blind. When you agreed to laser tag you had thought that it'd be lit up a little. Laser tag arenas were meant to be neon themed, right? Because they're lasers and stuff, right?

Wrong.

The photos the laser tag place had scattered around showed it being really fucking dark. Practically a pit of darkness. The void, even! Which meant really bad things for you. It couldn't hurt to try though. The laser tag employee said your vest and gun would glow, so maybe that'd be your saving grace.

Right. Logic and facts. This would all be fine.

"Everyone grab a vest and a gun!" The employee yells, handing the one he was using to demonstrate to Tubbo.

"I WANT RED!" Tommy yells, launching himself toward the color.

You grab the one closest to you which happens to be white. It takes a minute for everyone to put them on and hold their respective guns because Tommy somehow managed to put his on backwards.

"Alright! Keep the rules in mind, please! There's a minute of peace so you can all scatter before the guns are turned on. Have fun!"

With that, the employee opens the door to the arena and ushers all of you in. The second the door closes behind you, you know you've made the worst mistake of your life.

"See you later losers!" Tubbo exclaims, footsteps signaling he's left.

"I'm gonna go follow him to kill him." Tommy laughs.

"Oh, great, yeah, I'll just head the other way." Ranboo huffs. "See you later?"

The irony of his words isn't lost on you. You'd be doing no seeing in here. "Yup."

And then you're alone. In the void.

There was a faint glow from the ceiling, but it was the fucking ceiling. How was it meant to help you at all?!

Your vest and gun start to glow, a pitiful light source. The only thing it lets you see is your hands. You can’t even see your feet!

“No, I’ve got this.” You say quietly, putting a hand out in front of yourself. “I will not hit a wall.”

Slowly, you start to feel your way along the walls. Every gap proves to be terrifying but somehow you haven’t run into anything yet. It’s actually going quite well!

And then you trip over stairs on the floor.

“Fucking-“ You groan, dramatically collapsing on the ground to hold your poor foot. “Who the fuck puts stairs in the fucking dark?!”

You only allow yourself to wallow in pain for a minute before standing up and heading back the way you came. Hurting your toe clearly scrambled your brain though, because you nearly run into a wall at full force.

If you were ever put into a horror movie, you’d die first.

Feeling your way around the corner, you squint into the darkness. It seemed like there was a red glow, although faint. Maybe the exit? God, please be the exit. Then you could hang out there and let the others battle it out.

With newfound hope at the prospect of ending your suffering, you feel your way along another turn. And, like the universe itself was telling you your suffering would never be over, you run directly into something. Or someone, to be more specific.

Tommy bursts out laughing at the startled noise that comes out of your mouth. It was his gun and vest that were glowing a faint red. His glow supplied even less light than yours did, barely enough to see the outline of his body.

“It’s not funny, I’m in the seventh layer of hell!” You hiss, stepping back directly into a wall you could’ve sworn wasn’t there before.

Tommy’s laughter abruptly cuts off as he lets out a soft, “Oh. You can’t see, can you?”

A little ashamed, you shake your head. “Not really.”

“I didn’t realize it was that dark.” He grabs your wrists gently, pulling you a step closer to him before interlocking your fingers. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve bumped into a few things.” You admit.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t even think-“

“What?! I didn’t have to come; this isn’t your fault.” You don’t let him get far with his words, immediately shutting down his self-blaming.

“Come on. I’ll protect you from walls and Ranboo and Tubbo.” He decides.

“I’ve seen you run into a wall in broad daylight.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t guiding you. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

With his promise, you let Tommy guide you through the maze of walls and random objects. You stay tucked close to his side to avoid catching walls and enjoy the comfort he offers. His soft callouts of “wall on your right” or “corner” save you more than one time.

“Stairs.” Tommy says quietly.

“Stairs? Up? Down?”

As it turns out, the stairs are going up. Tommy took too long to respond, making you find out the hard way by tripping on them. He drops your hand in favor of saving you from falling flat on your face, laughing a little.

“Motherfucker.” You complain.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be fucking laughing.” Yet he continues to laugh, making you laugh too.

“No, this is so stupid!”

“I’m trying to find the exit, I swear. It just doesn’t fucking exist!” The honest emotion in his voice makes you laugh, taking a slow seat on the steps. After a second, you can feel him sit next to you, being careful to put an arm around your shoulders slowly to not startle you.

“At least you saved me from falling and dying on these stairs.” You point out, leaning into him.

“That’s true, I’m a hero.” He agrees.

“Have you run into Tubbo or Ranboo yet?” They have to be around here somewhere.

“No, they can fight each other. I’m more worried about you hitting a wall and dying.”

“I wouldn’t die from hitting a wall!” You protest. He keeps quiet, and you think about it. “Well-“

Tommy bursts out laughing, loud in the silence of the laser tag arena. “Death by wall! Walled to death!”

“I will not be walled to death!”

“Don't be ashamed of how you die, it’s okay. We all come to an end.” Even without being able to see him, you just know he’s nodding to himself.

“What?” Ranboo’s voice asks, making you jump. Seriously, you hadn’t even noticed the purple glow of his vest!

Tommy nudges his knees into yours before pulling you even closer to him.

“Ahhh!” He yells. “Back! Die! Die!”

“Hey, wait-!”

Ranboo’s purple glow turns red the same time your white does before they both go dark. Tommy must’ve shot Ranboo, which meant Ranboo shot you.

“Did you- you just killed my partner!” Tommy exclaims. “You’re a murderer!”

“You killed me!” Ranboo defends.

“Minor details, Ranboo. Minor details.” He dismisses.

“You’re lucky I’m hunting Tubbo right now.”

“Alright, boob boy.”

“Why are you hunting Tubbo?” You ask curiously.

“He killed me immediately and revenge is the only thing that makes me feel alive.”

“Oh.” Is all you can think to say. “Good luck?”

“Thanks!” Ranboo doesn’t say goodbye, but the sound of his footsteps alerts you to the fact he’s left.

“Want to play Subway Surfers?” Tommy asks, pulling out his phone.

“You’ve had your phone this entire time?!”

“Yeah? Why?”

With a sigh, you decide not to point out he could’ve just used the flashlight on his phone. Instead, you drop your head on his shoulder to watch him play.

“At least tell me you’re good.”

“I’m a fucking God.”

After the laser tag game finally ends, lights turning on, he doesn’t drop your hand when you exit. And it turns out, in an ironic twist, you fucking won.

[milflewis]

Gewis + Valtteri - telepathy au

"How is being inside Lewis's head?"

George deliberately doesn't cross his arms. He shifts in his seat slightly to look at Valtteri in the face. The room is slowly filling up with drivers for the breifing. "Boring. Quiet. Like you said."

Valtteri smiles. It splits his face in two. "I lied. He knew it was a joke."

George doesn't know how to talk to Valtteri, which would be fine, because, historically, George doesn't know how to talk to a lot of people, and vice versa, but sometimes it feels like Valtteri knows how to talk to him and is hiding the instruction manual from him. George isn't good with secrets. The irony of this paired with having Lewis "I don't even feel the bond most days" Hamilton is not lost on George. He is used to getting what he wants but it being a little stewed to the left.

Valtteri takes a sip from his reusable coffee cup. "You forget that we used to be teammates," Valtteri tells him, and taps the side of the cup against his forehead.

"I don't," George says quickly - too quickly based on the way Valtteri blinks slowly at him.

Lewis is so barely there in George's head that sometimes George nearly trips over the shock at the reminder. Which is something he is trying to find only mildly devastating, rather than completely earth shattering. He likes to think it is working.

He had completely lost track of what he was saying to Alex during the last drivers parade when the space dedicated to Lewis rippled and quietened for a moment. George's head had gone all warm and fuzzy, steam collecting behind his eyes. He had looked over to find Valtteri laughing, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, standing in front of Lewis in a way that blocked Lewis's face from the cameras.

"I hope you don't lie to him,' Valtteri says. "He'd be able to tell. He doesn't like being lied to. Not if you're bad at it."

George glares at the implication for all that it is true. Valtteri gives him a deeply unimpressed look before rolling his eyes. When he speaks next, he says his words very slowly like he's talking to a child. "Or when it matters."

George's brain goes utterly silent.

He doesn't know what he's projecting but it's enough for Lewis to stir - both in his mind and out - George can see him turning in his seat a few chairs ahead, frowning. His eyes are very wide.

"You're a fucking disaster," Valtteri tells him. George watches him pull a face at Lewis like he's giving in to something and sits down next to him.

"I don't matter to him," George confesses after several deep breaths. He wants to break something for the brief surge of hope at Valtteri's words. He places his hands flat on his jeans, palms down.

Valtteri looks angry for a moment. Viciously furiously angry. He inhales and it goes away easy, leaving behind barely even mild frustration. It reminds George, strangely, of Lewis. He doesn't know what to do with that.

"Shut up. Don't ever say that to him."

"No," George tries, suddenly desperate for Valtteri, who knows Lewis, to understand. "I mean, yeah, like, obviously, he's not a fucking dick, but - but also, no, you know?"

"No." Valtteri's voice is low. "I don't know."

And then: "Can't you feel him?"

George falters. "Uh, what?"

Valtteri works his jaw. "Can you feel him?" He taps his cup against his forehead again. "In there?"

George blinks. Lewis no longer feels as worried, churning and quiet, but he blinks back at him, waiting, waves gentle. George has always been scared of the sea.

"Yes, yeah, obviously, we're - we're bonded."

"No, not obviously," Valtteri tells him. "Not always. Not if both didn't want to."

The shape of that - the possible depth and meaning of Valtteri's words - dawns on him slowly. It is horrible. Not for the first time, George wonders how Valtteri and Lewis have even found themselves to be friends.

"Oh," George says softly. Lewis settles and stills. George lies down next to him, not touching, and breathes.

"Yes. Oh," Valtteri repeats, only slightly mocking.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

More replies!

Anonymous asked:

I would like to give my two cents on the Azul being jealous of Ruggie situation. Sorry in advance for my ramblings!

Azul puts a lot work into getting Jamil to like him, so I think it would hurt his pride to see someone else succeed without even meaning to. He is offering a way better deal than Ruggie, so why would Jamil refuse to accept his friendship? He may be a calculating bastard, but is Ruggie really that different, sucking up to people all the time for his personal gain? Surely Azul is simply not trying hard enough. Or maybe he just hasn't found the right approach yet. Kind of like that vignette where he lost a game of chance against Idia and as a solution he decided to get better at rolling the dice, instead of accepting that there are simply some things that he cannot control. And I agree that Jamil would get the brunt of it. If this is a game, he is both the opponent and the goal

(related to this reply)

Yeah, I agree with you, Anon! I feel like this is where Azul’s mind would immediately go to. He’ll have a horribly hard time accepting the fact that Ruggie is, in fact, better than him in Jamil’s mind, and just like you said, this is something that Azul can’t control. And frankly, the fact that Azul would want and try to control it is going to just make him look worse, because this is exactly the thing that Jamil doesn’t like about him. Oh, the irony……

Azul would spend so much time sitting in silence with an angry expression trying to figure out just what is it that he’s lacking but Ruggie, who is OBJECTIVELY WORSE IN EVERY ASPECT, miraculously has. Oh, they’re probably just trying to piss him off..!

Anonymous asked:

For suspicious and questionable things for Neige to do what about him collecting Vil's things

Oh Vil left a water bottle here? Mine now

Vil lent me this chapstick I'm going to use it and it will be like an indirect kiss

Maybe Vil wore a hat and Neige pulls out the hairs that were in it as part of his collection

He could probably escalate to breaking into Vil's house just to get some more things he's touched

He probably has a shrine dedicated to Vil complete with pictures of Vil that aren't from the public press shots meaning Neige followed Vil around and took those pictures

Ohhh, look at this stalker boy collecting things from his favourite idol~ That would definitely be a fun twist. I wonder what his dwarf friends think about this collection of his, even though the Vil shrine is definitely supposed to be a special hidden secret thing lol

Poor Vil not realising where his yoga pants are… don’t worry, Vil, Neige is definitely going to cherish them and love them <3

(I wonder if he’s going to stumble upon Rook at some point, because there is no way Neige would stalk Vil and Rook wouldn’t notice it at some point. He knows. He just allows it to continue happening…)

Anonymous asked:

"Illia's out there hunting' sets a mental image that she just has a collection of bras from everyone, including Trein's granny bra and Idia is wide eyed finding out about it

(related to this nyo!twst reply)

Oh god this playful grandma… Someone needs to stop her, she’s out of control!!

Too bad Idia doesn’t wear a bra and can’t add anything to the collection lol

Anonymous asked:

Epel seeing that Jack and Ortho are close to Vil. It made Epel so jealous on how Jack in which he has a crush on is more close to Vil while Ortho is a fellow freshmen gang friend that seems more close to Vil.

Jack and Ortho both have energies of that one classmate that your overly strict mom really likes and acts sweet with lol I think about it a lot and abuse this joke tremendously.

Vil, stop stealing your underclassman’s men!! I wonder how Epel feels about Vil and Jack being childhood friends…

Anonymous asked:

Azuide wedding where Idia's best man is Ortho (OBVIOUSLY!) but it would be hilarious if the tweels fighting over to be Azul's best man since they want that position...but deep down wanted to be petty and mess around towards Azul which can anger Azul.

Also think of Oruvil in their wedding. Idia being Ortho's best man (although Idia is too nervous about this) and Vil with Rook. (And knowing Rook, he wants to be with them in their honeymoon)

Ortho is definitely best man, but he’s also the flower girl, the ring bearer boy, the father, and a lot of other things… he’s so excited, he couldn’t stop taking roles for himself!!

The tweels would definitely give Azul a headache with the fact that both of them apparently want to be best man lol Azul’s already super nervous about this whole thing, he spent so much time preparing everything and checking everything 1000 times over, and now at the very last minute (!!! THEY SEEMED FINE WITH IT BEFORE!!!) Floyd goes “hey, how come Jade’s your best man, that’s super unfair”. Azul’s face at that moment was absolutely priceless.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: no matter who Vil marries, Rook is always going to be there by his side, so there is no way he’s not with them in their honeymoon lol It’s just a matter of whether he’s open about it or not.

Anonymous asked:

QUESTION

What do ya think Sebemalle's favorite position in bed?

Sebek would find anything other than a missionary to be absolutely unacceptably disrespectful to his liege, because t-taking him from b-behind sounds just…!! Appalling!! (And way too hot for Sebek to even consider) But Malleus wouldn’t find doggie insulting at all. In fact, when he’s in the mood to get his tail stimulated and his horns played with, doggie is a much better option.

In general, Malleus likes hugging, kissing and being in full body contact with the person he has sex with, so his usual go-to is missionary. But the tail thing + the fact that Sebek looks so amusingly shocked when Malleus rolls on his stomach makes him consider doing it in the doggie position more often.

(I also talked about everyone’s favourite positions in this post~ I can’t believe we have a post about this topic lol)

Anonymous asked:

not a request, (sorry if it comes off like that!) but have you ever made sebek x lilia art?

Please, read my pinned. We don’t ship them. If you’re talking about them not as a ship, I believe I haven’t drawn them together without Malleus being present as well.

[kissami]

☄︎. *. ⋆ If U Wanna Stay •°. *࿐

➵ art by Oyakorodesu on twt!

➵ In which Albedo has fallen in love with his best friend. Sadly. Or at least that’s what he thinks…

➵ warnings: a bit ooc albedo and cursing from reader (ง'̀-'́)ง

➵ Modern AU!

➵ gender neutral reader ( ˘ ³˘)

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

If U Wanna Stay- Sweatcult

0:01-〇───── 3:27

⇄   ◃◃   ⅠⅠ   ▹▹   ↻

VOLUME: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Albedo was furious with himself. He fell in love with one of his good friends, again.

The first time he felt like his heart was destroyed before his eyes. Feeling like his heart was crumbled into pieces like chalk on concrete. Oh the irony.

He couldn’t help it though, you were just…you and he loved everything about you.

He was so tired of falling for his friends like this but he couldn’t help it this time after seeing and feeling how content he is with you. The way you were always there for him and helped heal his heart to be somewhat whole again.

Yet still, he was afraid to tell you, which was understandable. He lost one of his bestest friends to him confessing so a deep fear lingers around, making him scared that you’d leave too.

He didn’t want any of that happening, going as far as completely removing you from his life. I mean, it seemed easier for him since he wouldn’t let you leave him first this time.

It went well for a few days, but the more days that passed without you and avoiding you at all costs, he began to feel even worse than he anticipated.

He felt so empty and lonely now that he didn’t receive any messages from you since he blocked your number and all your socials.

He missed your guys’ study lunches that you both almost never studied as surprising as it was for his character. He just missed you entirely and he was surely regretting that awful decision he made.

Thankfully, you weren’t one that took ghosting so well.

So here you were, standing outside of his home and trying to get his attention as best you could.

Klee, his little sister, was jumping up and down at the sight of you. You two got extremely close once albedo and you grew closer over the past year.

It was extremely upsetting for her too when you stopped coming to hang out and play with her. She would always tell you how you were her favorite friend of her brother’s and always asking if you two would get married soon which you would always laugh and nod at.

Albedo was biting his thumb nail now anxiously as he stared at you walking back and worth outside his window, deep in thought.

Yes, he knew he was being paranoid and going as far as watching your every move but he couldn’t help seeing how cute your concentration face was right now. He loves that look when you two finally try and study.

He sighed and backed away, making his way back to the living room when his doorbell rang.

Grabbing klee from opening the door, he shook his head and motioned for her to be quiet.

He had his hand over her mouth, stopping her from speaking to you which made her whine.

“Albedo you asshole! Let me in and talk to me. I know you’re next to the door you, jerk!” He heard you yell and finally he knew he really needed to be honest with you.

Opening the door, he expected to be lectured like she did when he told her the truth, but all he got as a response was you crushing him in a tight hug.

He heard you sniffle as your embrace grew tighter. Grabbing his shoulders, you pushed him away slightly to look in his eyes, trying to find any hate or anger in them to indicate that he didn’t want to see you.

But all you saw was sadness in those pretty eyes of his.

“Why?” You whispered, making his lip quiver as he gripped your hands in his.

“I was afraid you’d leave me. I thought it would’ve been better for the both of us.” You gave him a look to continue as you waited to understand what he was feeling.

“I have…fallen in love with you. I told myself that if you left me, that I would let you. But thinking of it now, pushing you away like that without telling you how I felt, completely destroyed me even more than before. I don’t care if you leave or stay, but I just want you to know that i love you and I’ve been in love with you since I’ve met you.”

It was silent between the two of you. A few minutes had passed by and you both could hear the soft pattering of rain hitting the windows of his house, making the mood a bit colder now.

But you personally, you loved the rain. Almost as much as you loved him.

“Do you have any idea how I dreamt of you saying that? Albedo, you ignoring me, made me think you hated me,”

Gripping his hands tighter, you placed as soft kiss on his knuckles and sighed.

“I thought you found out somehow that I liked you more than a friend should. I thought I ruined my chances with you.” You felt your tears escape as they dripped down your jaw and to the floor.

You saw the frown that took over his face again and you felt like your heart was about to burst as he wiped your tears for you, keeping him soft hand on your cheek.

You nuzzled into it slightly, looking to the floor in shyness.

“I was an idiot for pushing you away. It wasn’t fair, for either of us because i didn’t tell the truth. My feelings devoured my last friendship and I was afraid you’d leave me too.”

You shook your head as he sighed, looking up at the ceiling in deep thought.

“So I say this now…when you want to leave, please leave. But if you want to say, please…please stay.”

The two of you held onto one another, watching the rain fall and the beautiful gray clouds taking over the blue sky. A deep question flowing through the mists.

Yet the answer was clear now. Clearer than ever. With the way the two of you were holding onto one another lovingly. You were going to stay.

[bunorous]

— 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞

[masterlist]

alexander of brennenburg x daniel of mayfair

tags - comes back wrong, resurrection, angst, dead dove: do not eat

rated m - 3.3k words

warnings - disturbing imagery, graphic depictions of blood and gore, violence against animals

— alexander tries to bring daniel back after he dies in an accident. to some degree, it works.

(Pls rb + read on ao3 if possible 🫀)

[banner by reveriesources]

Brennenburg was a very antiquated and very labyrinthine barony, far older than any of the living beings who would ever come to inhabit it (excepting its baron, who was almost always an outlier in situations like these). It was built in the late 1500s— its second rendition was, at least— and had withstood the test of time and the unforgiving Prussian weather.

Daniel, however, was several hundred years younger than Brennenburg. He was built in the 1810s. He was fragile like china and jumpy, too. Alexander should have known better. Even in his own world, humans were never left unattended.

The irony was not lost on Alexander. He had regarded the rules of his homeland as foreign and unseemly for the sake of his work in this world, and in doing so forgot why those rules worked as well as they did. Humans were dukes of flesh, shambling about aimlessly with infinitesimally little class. Alexander has nobody to blame but himself, but he is not worried, not one bit. There is a remedy for every ailment.

Daniel lay rigid on his back on an operating table in the morgue. Alexander hates to treat him with such impropriety, but there is work to be done and he’s sure Daniel will forgive him once it’s finished.

There’s a chunk taken out of his head where blood and brains still bubble, like a geode. That can be remedied. His eye, loose in its socket, swivels about the cusp and then falls out completely. It bounces on its stem and then falls still. That, too, can be remedied. His other eye is frozen open, petrified, and there’s blood smeared over the entire left half of his face. Nothing a bath cannot fix.

Alexander has always been masterful with his fingers. He wraps linen around the window in Daniel’s skull and stitches the sides of the cloth into his skin to anchor it. He takes two fingers and gently pushes his eyeball back into his socket, but it’s red and concave in some places and may have to be removed later but he will do what he can for now to salvage it. He wraps cloth around that too until he is equal parts human and equal parts bandage. He isn’t au fait with the human art of taxidermy but for Daniels sake he can try. If he could speak, Daniel would make a joke about mummies. Alexander would laugh at the human conception of humor.

For a moment he cradles Daniel’s face, already becoming swollen. His eyes. Oh, his eyes. If beauty had a color it would be the green of his irises. He’s seen the milky hues of one too many corpses. If he can, he will save Daniel from that. He will not become another casualty. He passes a hand through his hair, once brown and soft if not frazzled, and finds a clump tangled around his fingers like a tourniquet. In disgust he waves it off of his hand.

He was once so handsome. And handsome again will he be.

Alexander leaves Daniel there and takes to the laboratory, which is no short stride from the morgue but he doesn’t mind making the journey. Castle Brennenburg is ripping apart at the seams but there is a sort of eerie beauty about it, one that Alexander can appreciate. On the way there he passes by the mound of rubble that had collapsed and killed Daniel. The boy is lucky, Alexander reasons. It only crushed half of him and not all.

He has a journal bound with tanned skin hidden under a loose laboratory plank, wherein different combinations of different ingredients that would yield different results are scrawled. Cinnabar, gold, mercury and sulphur divided into fourths. A low heat would produce the desired elixir. God willing, and the creek does not rise, it will not overwhelm his frail little body and kill him.

The tincture is warm to the touch like a broth. It almost makes Alexander ‘sleepy’, as Daniel would say, as he ambles toward the morgue. He knows the way by heart, but there’s a breadcrumb trail of blood droplets that had fallen from Daniel’s head as he carried him there. He cannot help but notice them, and cringe. For once he feels anxiety. How queer.

There is a sort of sadness that runs through him as he stands over Daniel’s lifeless body, even though he knows it soon will not be. It’s unnaturally stiff and unnaturally pale. Daniel was never quite 'lively' but he was passionate when he wanted to be. Nothing like the dull citizens of Altstadt. He quite likes Daniel, actually. In his own right is he brilliant, and pleasant to look at, and sometimes he even says something funny. He supposes that he’s been spoiled by no longer being alone like he had been for centuries.

He doesn’t dwell on it any longer. This is a rabbit hole he has been trying to keep concealed.

He brings the jar to Daniel’s lips, parted and stiff and barely pink, and tips it back. He listens to it gurgle unnaturally as it pours down an unreceiving throat.

Daniel is unresponsive. Doesn’t move his eye, doesn’t exhale, or inhale, and if he doesn’t in the next twenty-four hours, it will be over for the two of them.

When he leaves the morgue, he locks the door behind him. To keep himself from going back.

—-

When he enters the morgue, Daniel is gone from the operating table and there is an outline of blood and mucus where he was laying not even a full twenty-four hours ago, and a trail of blood leading into the back room the corpses are stored. It’s still saccharine red, still fresh.

Alexander sighs in relief, feeling his tense muscles relax. The potion took, then. It will take a day or several for Daniel to recover but afterwards he will be back at his feet. The door to the back room is shut, and he sees no light from under it, which puzzles him. Daniel loathes the dark. Alexander assumed he’d hate it more with no means to escape it and accompanied by a slew of corpses. Perhaps the ritual cured his nyctophobia. That would be helpful.

When he pushes the door open (which is no easy feat), the darkness is strange and unnatural and laps at his feet like waves. He holds his lantern in front of him, and as he does a sweep of the room, every last inch, stepping over corpses and limbs, he finds nothing.

“Daniel,” he calls. “Daniel, are you alright?”

He cringes at the echo, and at the worry in his voice. It has never shook like this.

Something drips onto his forehead. It’s searing hot and thick and Alexander shouts in pain, frantically wiping it away while dropping his lantern in the process. It clatters to the ground and fizzles out.

He looks up at the ceiling.

For fucks sake.

—-

Daniel has to be transported, of course. He burdens a servant with that task. Meanwhile, Alexander laments in his study. Books Daniel was in the middle of reading are still strewn about. Unfinished. It peeved him then. Now, he wishes Daniel would pick up a book without finishing the last one just one more time.

He has been playing a foolish game from the beginning. Rules of life did not function on Earth the way they did back home. Fundamental, irrefutable rules. Daniel was alive, but even that was debatable. ‘Conscious’ or ‘mobile’ are not quite the same thing as alive.

He is afraid. He doesn’t want to enter the guest room. To him, he does not fear the impossible, but rather what is real, very much so, and right in front of him. And he fears facing what he has done to Daniel. How he has defiled him.

Oh, what a mess he’s made.

He documents the results of his ritual, which he passes off as an experiment rather than a genuine plea to have Daniel back. That’s what it is. An experiment. He doesn’t need Daniel, anyway.

But he wants him.

As he exits his study and saunters down the dusty halls of the archives, the commotion from the guest room reaches his ears. It makes him shiver and briefly consider turning back, but he persists. Oh, he must persist. Animalistic scratching at wood. Inhuman screaming, snarling, some pitches higher than his normal voice and some lower.

When he pushes open the door to the Daniel’s quarters, the door to the left is boarded shut, at least seven planks barricading it. That isn’t what catches his eye, though. His servant is torn to shreds, not dismembered, but eviscerated, some parts more in tact than others. There’s holes burned in tables and wardrobes as if they had been melted. The scratching stops.

His voice is still as soft and nervous as it had been the day before. “Alexander?”

Alexander screws his eyes shut and clenches his fists into tight balls. He still lingers in the doorway. He dare not enter the bedroom.

“Alexander, please, come here,” Daniel begs frantically, sounding terrified. “It’s dark. Please, you have to help me.”

Alexander is no fool. Daniel begins to sob, but it’s distorted, and sounds as if two people are sobbing at once, one equally as deranged as the other. As he slowly takes a step back and shuts the door, Daniel hears the creak and begins to wail, raspy and horrid and guttural from the very back of his throat.

Alexander hurries to shut the door.

How curious. Sweat on his forehead. Heart racing. He has given in to human survival instinct for the first time. In what other ways has Daniel sullied him?

The screams echo through Brennenburg. They do not pause, not for anybody.

—-

Daniel has to feed.

This is a job Alexander personally oversees and animals have always been easier to harvest than humans have. They put up less of a fight, in a manner of speaking. He cannot waste what little cattle he has on making sure Daniel is sustained.

He cannot, but he wants to. But he doesn’t. The mind boggles. And irritates.

Little things at first. Rats and mice and critters of the forest that nobody will miss. A stray cat had given recent birth to a litter but Alexander refrains from harvesting them. Daniel liked cats. He felt he understood them.

Alexander finds little ways to honor Daniel where he can. For each night he takes laudanum, he pours one out for Daniel. He never drained the water from Daniel’s last bath and he never will. He sleeps beside the tub, some nights. He keeps his journal safe in one of the archives rooms. He repairs the frayed spine. Reads his handwriting over and over and over again just to see it swirl and sway.

It’s easy enough work. He gathers enough specimens into a burlap sack, swings it back over his shoulder and then slams it against a sharp rock. After a strike or two, the rustling inside the bag stops. Blood saturates the fabric.

Daniel would not want this. But Daniel does not know what’s best for him right now.

It takes two full days but he fashions a mechanism to keep Daniel fed with spare parts from the machine room. A tube inserted through the wall has an input and an output. The creature goes in one end and comes out the other, on Daniel’s side of the wall.

How does Alexander know he’s eaten? He hears it. Disgusting, wet sounds, sickening ones. Flesh smacking together in the absence of teeth. And then silence. Disgusting, sickening silence.

—-

What has he done?

He does not descend into the nave even though he needs to soon if he wants to go home. He knows that Heinrich knows. He does not want to face that man. He does not know that he will be able to handle it.

Alexander is a fool. He knows this. A fact as impassive and indifferent as the stars.

But he feels guilt all the same. Admitting to his actions does not alleviate it. Nothing alleviates it. He will live like this forever.

—-

He wishes that Daniel was naught but a mobile corpse. He wishes Daniel stayed dead. Well and truly dead.

—-

He weeps until the waning hours of the morning. They call it that— morning— for the activity it was named for. It’s the best time for it, after all.

—-

Daniel begs.

Humanity is a fickle thing. Fleeting. You will throw it all away when you’re at the threshold of your death.

Daniel begs for this to end. Alexander doubts he has any conception of ends or beginnings but he begs anyway. He sobs until nothing comes out besides little raspy squeaks. Crunching and cracking as he stomps about the room.

Alexander wishes he could comfort him. Once, not at all long ago, he could. He did. He gave Daniel hope. He gave Daniel purpose. And Daniel had plans for what he would do when this was all over. What was most peculiar was he still wanted to be Alexander’s ‘friend’, as he put it.

Friend? After Daniel has no need for him? Alexander didn’t understand it then but he understands it now.

Alexander has made him a zoo animal, but Daniel was always fodder. He should apologize to his sister. He should have done something different.

He should have—

—-

He should have told him.

—-

"Daniel?" Alexander murmurs, looking up at the man standing above him. He’s dressed in his nightclothes and his face is tired, droopy. He’s just as handsome like this as he is awake, prattling on about something Alexander already knows, but pretends he doesn’t.

Daniel yawns, and strides past Alexander, taking a seat beside him in the lounge chair. The library is bathed in a warm orange glow.

“Forgive me, Alexander,” Daniel says groggily. He must have come here mere moments after waking. “My nightmares continue to plague me.”

Alexander shuts his book and sets it down in his lap. At first, when there were more inhibitions surrounding their interactions, already transactional, Daniel’s constant night terrors were a burden. They grew closer, though. Daniel was such good company. He didn’t mind so much lulling him to sleep anymore.

“I do not fault you for that which is out of your control. I hoped that you would know this by now, Daniel.”

Daniel’s brows knit momentarily and he mumbles an apology. Alexander’s smile is light but heavy with fondness.

“It would help you to sleep if you’d read.”

“Oh, I am much too tired to focus.”

“But not tired enough to sleep?”

“Indeed.”

“Then I will read to you.”

Daniel is taken aback but it does not show on his face. Alexander can feel everything Daniel feels. What makes him special is that it is nothing Alexander has felt before. And that Daniel does not understand it either.

“I cannot ask you to do that.”

“You are not asking me.” Daniel is a fool. It is endlessly irritating and hopelessly endearing. “I am offering.”

Alexander does not wait for a response. He begins to read from The Inferno. Daniel is beside him in the chair, leaning against the arm, his legs pulled up to his chest. He looks away from Alexander.

Minutes pass. Rustling and fabric rubbing against itself. And then Daniel is resting his head upon Alexander’s lap, settling in. Alexander feels the emotion. Daniel doesn’t know what he’s doing. He only knows what he wants. This is him, then. Without inhibition.

Alexander cards his fingers through Daniel’s hair, smoothing out tangles until the only sound in the library is soft snoring.

—-

Blood. A lot of it. More than Alexander needs but he is grateful for it. Waste not, want not.

He is in the nave. Heinrich’s face is lifeless and hollow but he feels his judgement.

How humorous. Two knaves walk into a nave. One says to the other:

“I have been plagued with a crucial decision, lately. Plagued by human morality.”

And the other says:

“Since when have you cared about such concepts?”

Alexander chuckles. “I suppose you are right. Still, I wonder if I deserve to go home. More, if I want to.”

“When it comes to you, it’s never about deserving or not. You take what you want,” Heinrich says, face still. Alexander pokes at him. Drags up the flesh at the corner of his mouth to form a smile. He draws his hand back and it collapses. He is surrounded by mounds of flesh waddling about like zombies. Some more lucid than others.

He is done here. As Alexander ascends the stairs, shutting the door behind him and effectively shutting out Heinrich as well, he looks behind him. “You would not know the first thing about what I want.”

—-

He sees Daniel for the first time. Second time, really, but it’s the first time he truly looks at him.

He is as he was before, when his face was illuminated only by candlelight, when he gave a rare smile over tea. His eye sockets sag, though, eerie and long, and his lower jaw has come loose. It’s as if his skin weighs several pounds more than the rest of him. All that and associated signs of decomposition do not make for a pretty sight.

Alexander can see the outline of his contorted body in the low light of the guest room. He is cowering in the corner. It is silent except for the slow crackling of the fireplace and the wind whipping through the trees. His limbs are backwards on their joints and he stares at Alexander, blood pouring out from his eyes and mouth, crusted at his lips and sockets. There are bloody prints on the walls, on the ceiling.

He’s in pain. He breathes heavily and does not move. He is in pain and he is afraid.

Alexander is, too.

—-

“I’m not familiar with pets,” Daniel shares. They’re standing in the foyer, watching the sunset. It had been a long day of drudgery and they allowed themselves a moment of leisure. “We had a dog, once.”

Alexander smiles. “How quaint,” he says. “What came of it?”

“Got sick,” Daniel says with an even tone that hides years of sadness, too many for a boy his age. “We kept her alive longer than what was humane. She could barely walk. I just wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”

A brief pause. “One day, Hazel told father that she had collapsed while walking across her room, which is more of a broom closet, so that was concerning. He took her out to a field and shot her. He told me later. Said there’s no difference between a sick dog and a sick kid.” He chuckles. “I never told him about my colds, after that.”

—-

It’s dusty from lack of use but it’s something of Wilhelm’s that Alexander kept. A pistol, Piedmontese, to be exact. He keeps only one bullet in the chamber. He only needs one.

The walk back to the guest room seems to last forever. He wants it to never end yet wants to get it over with. Mostly, though, he’s in grieving. He could keep Daniel here. He could be selfish and keep feeding him and feeding him and keeping him alive until he went home and Daniel could die here, alone, in a wet, dark castle.

He would not. You put sick things out of their misery.

Daniel had taught him how to hold infinity in the palm of his hand and eternity in an hour. Alexander couldn’t articulate the logic behind why each and every life should matter, or why his Ptolemaic outlook on life itself should be challenged. He couldn’t verbalize it but he understood. As he cocked the barrel, pointed it at Daniel, who screamed, he understood. And he would honor Daniel that way.

He activates the portal.

He goes home.

He does not feel quite so vindicated.

[wordsandrobots]

Me: hey, how about we pick one idea into which to sink this unfocused need to write something new now Wishing on Space Hardware is completed.

My brain: Have you considered randomly fixating on Iron-Blooded Orphans' director referred to Agnika Kaieru as being 'like a shonen protagonist' and revisiting the concept for a gathering of the original Seven Stars, the one you dismissed because it would be just blatantly making stuff up about why Gjallarhorn turned out the way it did.

My brain: Also here's some random extra smut featuring Shino, Yamagi and Eugene.

Me: . . . you cannot behave for even five seconds, can you?

My brain: 8)

The smut has been added into the pile. I have now completed two E-rated fics, which I may post when I'm done with WoSH.

Beyond that, I am temporarily exorcising the Seven Stars fic idea as the following script in which I try to work out voices for each of them. I will not be working on this any further until after the Urdr Hunt animated feature comes out, because hopefully that will include details about the first Baklazan and I can de-assign him, her or them from Antarctica.

The Death of Agnika Kaieru

INT: Library inside Agnika Kaieru's mansion

Gargin Bauduin (who has an eyepatch): “Hello Kalf.”

Kalf Falk (who walks using cybernetic leg braces): “Oh. It's you two. Sorry. I didn't –”

Gargin: “Quite all right. We understand completely, don't we Angelica?”

Angelica Elion (who is in a wheelchair): “It's natural to be upset after seeing him like that.”

Kalf: “He's just… he was always so… vital. Now he's just lying there and… I keep wondering how that could have happened.”

Gargin: “Age, usually. That'd be the normal cause. Trust Agnika to get the same result three times fast.”

Angelica: “It's good to see you. We weren't sure you would make it, given how busy you've been.”

Kalf: “Yes, well. Someone has to care about the things none of the rest of you can be bothered with.”

Gargin: “Come on, don't be like that. We rely on your work getting the Ariadne back into shape. Don't know what we'd have done without you.”

Kalf: “I suppose you could've always thrown some of your pet cult at the problem.”

Angelica: “The Seven Star Corps is the reason we've been able to make any progress with the rebuilding. Whatever you think of it as a concept, it has been both necessary and successful.”

Gargin: “Not to mention the sacrifice its members have made. I would have thought you'd be the last person to sneer at those who've lost everything and yet still find it in themselves to work for the good of the future.”

Kalf: “I – yes. You're right. I apologise. That was… I'm just…”

Angelica: “Believe me, we all are. We understand.”

Kalf: “So, um, how's Deborah?”

Gargin: “Big as a house and cursing me daily for having the gall to conceive a child with her. Any protest I make over how I couldn't possibly have predicted triplets is being treated as an act of war. How's Marco?”

Kalf: “Fine. Or, well, he was last I had the chance to speak to him. And believe me, I see the irony of a communications expert not finding time to talk to his boyfriend.”

Angelica: “Perhaps once we're done here, you'll be able to go visit him.”

Kalf: “Perhaps.”

There follows a scene in which Arzona Issue arrives and gets into a heated argument with Kalf over Gjallarhorn's future, which leads to Kalf storming out.

Gargin: “That could have gone better.”

Arzona Issue, dropping into an armchair: “He's never forgiven me for what happened in Paris.”

Gargin: “Massacres do tend to cast shadows over a friendship, yes.”

Arzona: “I didn't want things to go that way. I tried to stop it! But in the end –”

Gargin: “I know, Arzona, old man. I know. Deep down, so does Kalf. He's a surly little brat at times but he's stuck with us this far.”

Arzona: “I'm just trying to be logical. Agnika held everything together by force of will. Without him…”

Angelica: Starting a family isn't something people generally do out of logic. Or at least, not out of spoken logic. Not all of us were born with the expectation that we existed to advance our parents' name, you know.”

Arzona: “I am aware, thank you. I… I shouldn't have brought it up. We can't discuss it properly yet anyway. But with so much to do… Agnika's not even left a will, can you believe that? The single most important man on the planet and he's going to die without his affairs in order.”

Gargin: “That seems somewhat out of character.”

Arzona: “I asked him about it once. Early on, when we were pulling all remaining military assets under our command. He'd defined the chain of command down to each individual soldier but as for his personal life – he told me he'd worry about it when the mission was complete.”

Angelica: “Now that's like him.”

Arzona: “He was asking for Valerie earlier. Came round for a while and then … Valerie, Alvin, even Petr. His old friends. I didn't know what to tell him. If he'd forgotten…”

Gargin: “Ah, come now, don't tear yourself up. This is one area where you're allowed not to be perfect, believe me.”

Arzona: “I wonder if it's going to be our fate too, eventually. Fading by degrees and then – oh. F-forgive me, Angelica. That probably sounded…”

Angelica: “It's an extremely sensible concern. None of us understand the long-term effects of the augmentation procedures, much less the toll the War took. I sometimes suspect it's easier for those of us who already lost the use of a limb or two. Saves waiting for the unexpected.”

Gargin: “Besides, Agnika always pushed himself more than the rest of us. My eye, Kalf and Angelica's legs, those were our extremes. Agnika's lay far beyond us.

Arzona: “Perhaps. I still can't shake the idea time is set against our efforts.”

Angelica: “That will always be true.”

------------------------

EXT: Garden

Maki Fareed (wine-glass in hand): “Dear me, dear me. Here's a man reeling from a regrettable encounter with our illustrious leader. Come sit with us, my child, and have a good long scream into the koi pond. It'll make you feel better.”

Kalf Falk: “Uh… sure. Fine. Yes. Arzona is being…”

Maki: “Arzona is being Arzona, as per usual. Did he give you the pitch for building a dynasty, too?”

Kalf: “Does he really expect us to become, what? A new hereditary elite? Did he forget how the War started?”

Maki: “What goes on inside his head is something I have long since ceased trying to fathom. All I know is, I became a pilot precisely to avoid being reduced to a brood mare and the irony tastes bitter. God, I envy Baklazan. Imagine being stuck a million miles from this dreary excuse for the wake. Lucky bastard.”

Embrilla Kujan: “Agnika isn't dead yet.”

Maki: “Neither is a vegetable before it's picked. I fail to see what is gained by splitting hairs.”

Embrilla: “Tactful as ever…”

Maki: “Do shut up, you dreadful old stick-in-the-mud. If Arzona's already planning the funeral and the next five hundred years, I don't see why I need to guard my tongue.”

Kalf: “Him and his damn plans – and of course Gargin and Angelica are going along with it.”

Maki: “But of course. The Greater-Good Gang sticks together.”

Embrilla: “I wonder what Agnika would have thought.”

Maki: “Not to speak ill of the soon to depart but I believe we all know this is coming out of Agnika leaving too much room for Arzona to do the thinking in certain matters. Oh, don't look at me like that. He was an inspiration, obviously, but he did have a regrettable tendency to make everything about himself. It's not sustainable.”

Kalf: “I always thought he had a good grasp on the long-term. Everything he said was always about what we owed humanity's future.”

Embrilla: “Maybe he assumed gathering together people who cared about it the way he did would be enough.”

Maki: “As I said. Now here we are. Speaking of which, who else are we expecting to come pay their respects? Nadira, I assume, and where he goes, Jizin will no doubt follow. Tasmoore?”

Kalf: “Yes, I saw him arriving when I was up at the house.”

Embrilla: “Medoz was on the mission with Baklazan, so she's out.”

Maki: “Pity. She'd liven things up no end. I suppose I'll just have to chip away at Agnika's remarkably well-stocked cellar until my mood has been sufficiently detached from the circumstances. Who did this place belong to before it became a convalescent home, anyway? I cannot believe these vintages were collected by someone even you two could drink under the table.”

Embrilla: “Have you ever tried taking anything seriously, Maki? You might enjoy the novelty.”

Maki: “Oh, I absolutely have. But you'll notice there are no mobile armours left to kill, my dismal darling, and past them, I have found very little to be worth the effort.”

Kalf: “It belonged to some kind of regional governor. They donated it to Agnika in honour of everything he'd done, when the War was finally declared over. I don't think he ever used it before.”

Embrilla: “That tracks.”

Maki: “Doesn't it just? Well, bottoms-up, dear-hearts. Here's to the man who saved the world.”

--------------

For the sake of clarity, I seem to be leaning towards treating Maki and Embrilla as inseparable friends whose love-language is hurling insults at one another. Maki, Arzona and Gargin are hold-outs from whatever aristocratic organisations existed pre-War to lead to the whole 'honour duel' thing. Kalf and Angelica are somewhat younger and somewhat lower class. My thoughts on Agnika place him as growing up more in a academic/scientific environment, which is why he's friends with a bunch of engineers and mathematicians pre-War (this is expanding from stuff I sketched in Eugene Sevenstark and the Hesperus Treasure).

The Seven Star Corps is a concept I came up with to explain where the surname 'Sevenstark' comes from, because it clearly requires some sort of history.

I'm not sure where this piece would be going if I wrote it in full, which is why I haven't written it already. However, I may be able to use it as set-up for the sequel-sequel fics that I have alluded to previously, for reasons I won't get into yet.

[harmo-n-ia]

Bad end N au huh? Elaborate. . . . .

(( OOOOOHHH you wanna hear more about my boi Naal and my BAD END AU HMMMM? 👀 ))

(( Well this boy on the left is Naal next to my main version of N on the right [who often goes by Nat] ))

WELL OH BOY HERE COMES A READMORE BECAUSE THIS ONES A LONG ONE.

So the main idea for this AU is based on that one episode of Generations where N and Ghetsis are in the cavern with Kyurem and Reshiram and shits about to go south until Touya rides in on Zekrom and saves the day. However in this particular AU THINGS GO... UM, HORRIBLY, TERRIBLY WRONG, THE DAY IS NOT SAVED aaaaaaand pretty much the only ones baaaarely left alive are N and Reshiram? :')

[well there's one more bit that's a spoiler]

Basically having to bury pretty much [theres one exception lol] everyone he ever treasured in his life (his pokemon friends, his first and true friend who was there to find and rescue him...) Left him not only physically but deeply mentally scarred.

He's basically blind in his left eye and his body is covered in layers of massive scarring [from Ghetsis Pokemon's attacks, a controlled Kyurem, ... Maybe Ghetsis himself.] He has nerve damage. His hands are particularly messed up from basically having to bury his friends in that permafrost cavern. ... A certain someone was disposed of elsewhere.

His Reshiram is also particularly distrusting of anyone outside of HIS [Naal's Reshiram defines himself masculine, whereas Nat's defines themselves neutral] hero. Having to see his sibling perish and likewise bury him alongside his hero left him just as scarred and distant.

At their weakest of time, they wished death while nearly bleeding out in the cavern, which never came.

Eventually Naal and Reshiram made their way back to the castle, but were never the same.

In this world, legendaries are not single existing units [for the most part]. Studies of Reshiram, Zekrom, and Kyurem strange connected existence made it seem that one would be reborn into the world after the death of one and its hero. This history was taught to Naal in his childhood, through his gearing to become a King...

There was no second born Zekrom. There was no more an equal hero. ... Without yin there's is no yang. And so there no longer was balance. Mentally scarred by their trauma, and with nothing to reassure a sense of balance to their world, Naal and Reshiram abandoned the truth and decided fate would rest upon their own truth...

They became convinced that the only way balance could be restored was through allowing nature to take its own course upon the land...

Man's blight upon the land had to make way for any chance for the land to heal. The Cities of Unova had to burn.

And so he becomes the Fallen King. He makes himself a suit of armor forged by the flames of Reshiram, as well as a sword to make his point true...

[one day I’ll draw the armor, I promise.]

He isn't completely lost though. Not entirely. There may still be hope for him. His goal is NOT genocide, no. Not even in death at all. He works in league with several "team" organizations to announce and push out full evacuations. Pokemon that are abandoned or wounded and left behind are collected and treated for their wounds. He organizes for the pokemon to be reunited with its partner only if it so wishes, through his hidden associates. He caries trinkets and momentos of his lost fellows, and a shroud on his armor made of a tattered plasma flag.

His body suffers more damage from the burning and chemicals he’s exposed to, even with protective gear. His hands and skin are a wreck and he has permanent nerve damage.

...

He is currently hunted by the sister of a certain fallen Hero, prepared to take vengeance for her loss and Justice for the region...

The bitter irony is that neither Naal nor Reshiram know that they will only be reborn after each set AND their heroes die. :')

Ahh, but here, not to leave you all doom and gloom, here’s a sketch of one time I broke all of his fingers by mistake!!