#on x-games extreme

[mazaapanpan]

AU thing

Maxley x dead plate 🗣️

Posting some old drawings because I haven’t drawn anything recently

(Also, I’m still learning how to use this app, sorry not sorry 🫡)

[zarnzarn]

The doors to Olympus are sturdy and strong, given everyone's preferences for drama and slamming said doors open and sending them cracking into the wall whenever the opportunity arises. Which is why it's a surprise when they creak open during the once-a-decade pantheon meeting; less so because no entity worth their salt would take so long to open the doors, and more so because everyone who is anyone is already there.

But if everyone is being honest with themselves- which no one is, usually- these gatherings are boring enough that the bland conversation is dropped immediately in favour of craning their necks to catch a glimpse of whatever is coming to relieve them of their boredom.

When the doors finally open however, several of the pantheon murmur in surprise.

"Odysseus," Athena whispers, wide-eyed as she pushes herself off her throne to her feet. It is him- in the king's garb he was buried in but the face he has when he reached home, hair till the shoulders and speckled with grey, face oddly blank. His feet are transparent.

"What are you doing here, sceptre?" Poseidon booms, hair the color of a stormy sea. Zeus, beside him, looks reserved, observing the ghost with something approaching curiosity- eyes flicking to the lightning scars on his daughter's face and back. "Your time has long passed, and Hades-"

"It is a temporary agreement," Odysseus says curtly, barely sparing him a glance as he approaches his patron. "Athena."

Her armour clinks as she steps forward and the gods all twitch, trading glances. Owls are silent creatures- to have her aspect so affected to make noise was... uneasy to say the least. She even holds herself different than usual, something like confused delight shining in her eyes. "How did you-"

"Did you sleep with my wife?"

The throne room is silent. Several jaws drop.

Athena straightens back up, blinking in surprise. She looks a bit shifty, some of the nymphs closest whisper to each other, which- well, almost every single god present owed some part of their existence to the mere story of Odysseus loving his wife.

Would he fight his own patron goddess over it in front of Mount Olympus, though? He certainly was unbalanced enough; Athena herself looked rather uncertain of her odds, even though-

"Are you addled in death, King of Ithaka?" Artemis drawls, looking amused. "Did you forget that your own patron is celibate? Whatever rumor you-"

"No, I-" Athena says suddenly, shifting her spear to her other hand. "I did."

Artemis chokes on her breath and several assorted divine beings gasp in shock and the rest shouting for explanations, although everyone is nearly drowned out by Aphrodite's loud, "WHAT?"

Odysseus inhales sharply and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I cannot believe you."

"She asked-" Athena starts, only to be drowned out by the din of various beings screeching and shouting about the scandal.

"ATHENA!" Hera hisses, peacock tail fanning behind her sharply as she pushes herself up. "Explain yourself!"

Athena half-turns to face her, face creased in a frown. "Mother, I-"

"LET ME REPHRASE!" Odysseus cuts in loudly, and the shouting settles down into silence. He walks to his patron, eyes blazing. "I cannot believe," he throws his clenched fists wide as he growls the last word, "-you took Penelope to bed-" Athena surprisingly stays still as he reaches her, mouth falling open as he grabs her by the chiton to yank her down, uncaring of the gasps of horror from all around as he snarls, "-before you ever kissed me."

And then Odysseus grabs Athena by the face roughly and kisses her.

This time Aphrodite's shriek cannot be escaped by anyone.

"Aphrodite, please," Zeus says a few moments later, wincing as his throne reforms around him, stained oddly pink. Quite a few minor entities have discorporated, and the ones nearest to her are still trying to regenerate their hearing. "Control yourself."

Their eyes land back on where Athena has dropped her spear- dropped her spear, Ares in the corner seems to be having some minor hysteria over this, well warranted- and is also on the floor, still being thoroughly kissed by that insufferable, mannerless hero of hers, perched on her stomach to reach. Zeus inhales in fury, Poseidon close behind him as the shock wears off, lightning crackling around his fingers as he opens his mouth to shout- of all the indignities-

"If you two ruin this for me," Aphrodite thunders, warping in front of them and glaring. "I will make you both regret it."

Both gods visibly blanch at the threat, taken aback for one brief moment. Threats from Aphrodite are far worse than any of her more violent siblings, at the end of the day.

Zeus visibly gathers himself just as Athena's helmet clatters to the floor, and he gains a second wind immediately, eye twitching as he spreads a hand to the spectacle in the middle of the hall. "WHAT MANNER OF DISRESPECT IS THIS? TO BARGE INTO OUR MEETING AND THROW ONE OF THE OLDEST GODDESSES TO THE FLOOR LIKE A COMMON WENCH-"

"Zeus," Hera says quietly. Everyone falls silent, although it's not quite enough to stop the two tangled together on the ground. She clears her throat, which finally seems to get through to Athena, who had finally seemed to have gotten over her shock enough to reach out, hands hovering over Odysseus hesitantly. Still, at the noise she seems to remember herself, pushing herself up on an elbow and dislodging him enough to break their necking. He pouts at her, but Athena's eyes are too glazed over to notice, heaving for breath.

Hera opens her mouth to speak, crown manifesting on her brow as she steps in front of the throne, but closes it as the door rattles again.

This time, the spectre shimmers with a faint hint of scales that comes with a freshwater nymph's heritage and excited whispers starved for drama explode across the room as the Queen of Ithaka steps into the room, skirts hitched in her hand and panting as if she'd been running.

"Your Graces," She bows respectfully before entering, Spartan princess through and through, until she catches sight of her husband and Athena, the former of whom seems to have taken the opportunity to start kissing the wisdom goddess again, fingers in her curls.

"What are you doing?" She snaps, rushing over. The entire courtroom holds its breath. She slaps her husband upside the head, making him yelp and move back to shoot her a betrayed look. Athena looks even further dazed than before, cheeks red. "Argos has more manners than you! No wonder Lady Athena wanted nothing to do with you- ah, hello, darling, by the way."

"Penelope," Athena murmurs hoarsely, and the Queen of Ithaka leans down to kiss her as well.

Odysseus chuckles, then jumps with everyone else as Hera slams a hand down on the throne elegantly, cracking it to the base.

"Ah, goddess-" He says, clambering off Athena to bow.

"Silence," Hera interrupts, holding up a hand, eyes cold. "You will not say anything to me apart from an explanation. My agreement for your release from Ogygia was due to the assurance that your marriage was one of the truest I have ever witnessed, conveyed by Athena herself when bartered with all of us to let you go. Tell me, was it a ploy? Because from the disgraceful looks of it, this seems to not be the case in the slightest."

Odysseus frowns, face twisting in confusion. "Athena bartered with...?" He turns to look at his patron, who stares back, unspeaking. His eyes flicker to the lightning scar over her right eye as Penelope traces it with horrified eyes and a gentle thumb, and understanding seems to dawn.

For a moment, rage seems to fill him, glaring with a hatred towards Zeus that everyone whispered later wasn't met by the god king with anger, but a flicker of remorse- before he visibly throws it away behind Athena's old smile and bows.

"God-queen," He says formally, gracefully. Hera twitches a bit, and they'll all talk later about how odd it was to so clearly see Athena's younger mannerisms in the man, down to the curl of the letters. "My marriage to Penelope has never been false, never been broken, this I promise you." He takes Penelope's hand and squeezes it for emphasis, and she raises them as acknowledgement. "But... can you not argue that Athena has been part of our marriage all this time? From its start, where she advised me on courting and her on what to look for, to the twenty years she spent with both of us- me on the battlefield and Penelope in the court; to say nothing of how she helped raise our son and lived in our palace in the days after. And is she not so unbearably beautiful that even my Penelope couldn't wait-" He shoots a glare at her, which Penelope returns with a smile. "-when the chance was presented? How can you fault us for disgrace, after being so long apart from our wife?"

Hera raises both eyebrows at the impudence, the kind of disbelieving expression that hides a warning to tread carefully. "So you claim to be both married to Pallas Athena?"

"In every way that matters except legality," Odysseus says, fearlessly. He is dead, after all, what much can you do to a shade that they didn't already put him through when alive. He is sort of worried about Athena, though, as they both help her back to her feet, Penelope busy whispering compliments and updates and endearments in turn- she's not usually one to be quiet in face of a problem.

Hera tilts her head. "Ah, but you see. I need the legality, if I am to finally-" A helpless, excited smile pulls at her lips once, twice, before unfolding into a bright grin, peacock tails unfolding to their full wingspan. "-finally arrange for a marriage for my eldest daughter who has not once- oh finally, I can hardly believe this day has come-"

"I do not like the way you grabbed her, Sacker of Troy," Ares steps forward as Hera starts ranting half to herself, half to an equally loud assemblage of joyful entities about wedding arrangements, eyes narrowed.

Odysseus barks an incredulous, loud laugh, gesturing to Athena with a slightly crazed look in his eyes. "This lady has broken- and I do not exaggerate- every single bone in my body before I saw my sixteenth year. I have punched her a hundred times in the face when she taught me how to fight. We'll survive, thanks."

"That is fair," Ares steps back, hands raised.

"What duties will you provide as spouses, Ithakan Queen?" Hestia questions, stepping forward.

"Oh, the same we did when we were living," Penelope huffs a laugh. "Keep her busy, make her laugh, be of mild frustration to her, love her well, worship her-"

"I do not. Need to know," Hestia closes her eyes and raises a hand to cut her off, stepping back. Around them, the din catches speed and volume as no further objections arise, excitement spilling into the air.

"What is happening?" Athena says faintly, looking around as if she was just waking up.

"-oh, and we can get out the decor once more! Hebe, Aphrodite, loves, do you remember where we kept the fountains-"

"-finally, a reason to celebrate! Call them all out of hiding-"

"-can't believe this is finally happening, oh sister, what songs should we-

"Why am I getting married," Athena says with much more alarm and horror. She turns to Odysseus and shakes him by the shoulder, eyes wild. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

"How is this nothing? Do you have any idea the headache-"

"Athena, sweetheart, will you consider changing into that beautiful piece you made for the ceremony?"

"Oh, I'll make a deal with Hades or something, you hush!" Aphrodite leans forward and snaps, before her irritation melts back into a manic joy. "Oh, what paint shall we do?"

Creakily, she turns her head to Hera, disbelief pasted across her face. "Mother," She says slowly. "They are both dead."

Paint, Athena mouths, looking afraid for possibly the first time since her conception.

Penelope laughs and tugs on Athena's hand to make her turn, tucking dishevelled curls behind her ear. She wonders if the goddess knows how beautiful she is when she's flustered. "Take us away," She whispers. On Athena's other side, Odysseus leans against their patron with a besotted, helpless smile as he stares up at her, her helmet and spear in hand. She'd missed Athena like a limb, missed her deep laugh at night when they'd discussed the day's court, the dry jokes, the hands over hers as she weaved- but Odysseus wasn't himself without her, happy though they were in Hades' lands together, all of them.

"I'm-" Athena wavers, then looks around once more at all the excited screaming, something unreadable flashing in her eyes. Almost against her will, her eyes fall to Zeus, who is sitting silently and staring back at her. Poseidon looks like he still wants to start a fight, but clearly by his wary looks below can tell he will be heavily outnumbered by the overexcited crowd to not try, but Zeus just stares back at her, face blank of any emotion.

"We ask you formally this time," King Odysseus says, walking in front of her to take her attention away, holding onto her hand. His voice has strength in it, drawing the eyes of the murmuring crowd, but he's deaf to it as he stares up at her.

"Will you be our wife?" Queen Penelope asks, joining him, watching their beautiful patron shudder for breath she does not need as her eyes flick to one of them and then the other.

"Yes," She whispers and cheers erupt all across Mount Olympus.

"Finally!" Odysseus complains, and then pulls her down once more to kiss her, all three of them fading at the edges as one of the generous gods present there- who seems to realize that they're not very inclined to stop anytime soon- thankfully teleports them away into a nice room with a large bed.

"Finally," He whispers as he breaks apart to lay her down, cupping her face, voice heavy with the longing of a full lifetime and more. Penelope circles to the head of the bed and starts undoing Athena's braid, staring at them both lovingly.

Later the ones closest will murmur, as the silhouettes faded away, that tears had slipped from proud Pallas Athena's eyes as she placed one hand against Odysseus' cheek, trembling.

"I missed you," She will whisper back, and all three of them fade away to their own story, yet to be made.

[the-holy-ghosted]

congrats 2 henry peglar for being the only bitch confirmed as to be Fucking That Old Man

[chikaras-garden]

idk if it's too much but could i get 4 & 28 (or either one) WITH JASON AANND ROY pleaseepleaseplease i'm foaming at the mouth save me

Hey anon can I kiss you?

Pairing: Jason Todd x Roy Harper x fem!reader

Contains: vigilante!Outlaws!reader, implied threesome, praise, teasing, they’re a throuple okay they’re all in love with each other, J calls Reader “princess”

Words: 300

Notes: 18+ or you’ll be blocked.

Behind you, you hear Roy’s voice. “Fuck. Fuck.”

Thinking that there’s something wrong with the lock he’s trying to pick—wouldn’t be the first time he made something explode by accident—you quickly look over your shoulder.

Roy’s two steps away from being right on top of you, and he’s advancing with the swift silence of a large, predatory cat. Confused, you instinctively turn and hold up your hands; he takes your fingers in his and presses your arms back against the table behind you.

“You know how sexy you are?” His tone is dark and needy, perhaps a little bratty; you roll your eyes, and he pulls the collar of your costume down to reveal the base of your neck. “Loved how you looked when you took that guy down with your thighs.”

“We don’t have time for this,” you groan the moment Roy’s lips connect with your collarbone. Your skin reacts against your will, warming underneath his mouth, and you forlornly wish you were home instead of in a gang hideout.

“She’s so pretty when she blushes,” Roy murmurs against your throat, but you can feel that his eyes are on Jason. 

When you hear a disgruntled noise from across the room, you’re almost certain that Jason’s going to agree with you; your little team of three does not have time for this.

He’s at your side in a second, sheltering both you and Roy with his broad shoulders. And then he says, “Let me look at you, princess.”

Jason’s gloved fingers guide your chin to look up at him, and you’re met with the cold gleam of his mask. Somehow, you still know there’s a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Oh,” Jason chuckles, rubbing your cheek with cool leather. “Yeah, that’s gorgeous. Gonna have to take her home and do something about this.”

[otomehonyaku]

Diabolik Lovers More,Blood ☽ Possessive Ruki and voyeuristic Yui (Heaven 02)

this is genuinely one of my favourite scenes in Ruki's route in MB... the cooing! the possessiveness! the horniness! once again props to @karleksmumskladdkaka because now I have a (long) list of scenes that I post videos of ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

[hopeymchope]

TooKyo Games' "Limit x Despair" is finally unveiled as "The Hundred Line -Last Defense Academy-"

Once again, TooKyo Games came out swinging during a Nintendo Direct.

The moment this trailer starts up, you can immediately recognize Rui Komatsuzaki's character designs.

Then the setup is described: 16 students are locked inside an academy alongside a weird living mascot character, fighting for their lives as their friends are forced to die right in front of them. Sounds familiar.

Yup: Hard as it is to believe, it is already time for Kazutaka Kodaka's next game. The game once known as "Limit x Despair" or "Extreme x Despair" is here, and it's... a tactical RPG!

...I can legitimately say that I did not expect that. But I am also definitely down for it!

The story seems to deal with the world (or at least the characters' hometown?) being invaded and attacked by some monsters that look like the "Spirit World" baddies from Magical Girl Spec-Ops. Our protagonist Takumi Sumino is forced to hole up and lock down in a school alongside 15 other students and... this thing.

....and from there, they must fight to defend the school in the aforementioned battles.

Aside from the tactical top-down combat and visual novel sequences, you'll also explore the titular "Last Defense Academy" from a perspective similar to how your traversed the island in Danganronpa 2.

Given that we're apparently dealing with a cast of characters that will be whittled down and lost as the narrative progresses, I think this is going to be tonally much closer to Danganronpa's storytelling style than Master Detective Archives: Rain Code was. What I mean is: Master Detective Archives (MDA) was basically the gameplay successor to Danganronpa, but The Hundred Line (THL?) looks more like it's the narrative successor to Danganronpa, if that makes any sense?

Suffice to say that I am once again extremely hyped/excited.

[the-whispers-of-death]

can you do Keegan x male reader who is just a tad bit dumb. Like he is terrible at math, dense, silly, easily distracted. OH and gets lost a lot bcs he likes to wander?

I'll admit that I've never watched a play through of Call of Duty: Ghosts (I say watch because I'm not a gamer but have watched the reboot versions of Modern Warfare 1 & 2), but I have read through the Wiki pages of Keegan P. Russ, just for this. That being said, he's probably OOC (but I mean, I write all of them as softies so let's just chalk this up to that).

Another thing of note is that this civilian male reader. Also, I think I made him to be a little on the autism spectrum with the way he doesn't understand certain idioms and phrases.

I hope you enjoy!

**

Keegan loved you, in his own quiet way. He wasn't much of a talker, preferred to let you lead the conversation as you talked on and on about anything and everything. He mostly spoke to ask you something about what you were speaking on, a subtle indication that he was listening.

He loved you in the way he so patiently waited for you to solve a simple math problem, like how much difference a 10% off sale would make if the original price was fifteen dollars. He knew math wasn't your strong suit, but he didn't care. You'd arrive to the answer eventually, he knew that.

He loved you in the way he had to explain certain idioms and phrases to you, uncaring how you didn't even know that being offered to go to someone's place for a cup of coffee in the middle of night was an offer of sex. You didn't understand things sometimes and he understood that. They were intentionally vague, he'd tell you when you got flustered at being corrected about your misassumptions.

He loved you in the way you kept wandering off when walking around anywhere with him, whether it was you two walking in the park or out in a shopping center. Your attention was easily caught and it made you wander over to a plant or animal or piece of merchandise. He'd simply trail after you, smiling as you pointed out to him whatever you were looking at.

"Look, Keegan! A butterfly," you murmured, pointing at a nearby butterfly which was perched onto a flower. Its wings were so breathtaking, you just had to have stopped to look at the beautiful creature.

Keegan looked over your shoulder to the butterfly you were pointing at, chuckling in gentle amusement. "It's beautiful," he said before wrapping his arms around your waist from behind you. "But it's not as beautiful as my boyfriend."

Oh, how he relished the way you laughed and lit up in response. You loved when he called you his boyfriend, which you were. You had thought a military man—a Marine—like him would shy away from being out and proud about having a boyfriend, but he quickly proved you wrong.

His squad, the Ghosts, knew all about you. Keegan very happily told them about you, how your little quirks were so endearing. How you were the home he was fighting to go back to when he was on deployments. Oh they knew so well how much he loved you, how you were the sun and the moon and the stars of his universe.

You were everything to him and while he didn't say it often, he showed his love to you in so many ways.

How his hand reached for yours whenever you two were in a crowd so he didn't lose you if you wandered off. How he gave you the answers to a difficult math problem when you were clearly struggling to answer it. How he tried his best to word his sentences in a way that wasn't so vague so you didn't feel embarrassed about misinterpreting his words. How he drank in every word you said, relishing in the way your voice washed over him like a soothing balm to his soul.

Keegan loved you, though you were eccentric and loud where he was quiet and withdrawn. He never regretted being your boyfriend, not one single bit.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

[zenxenophilia]

“Hold my hand, freshman.”

[fuckyeahxenobladechroniclesx]

Today's weekly XCX model is:

Millesaur (en060801)

[kazamajun]

well have you considered that maybe the unstoppable force is in love with the immovable object

maybe the reason one refuses to stop and the other refuses to move is because they both long for the collision

[chaoswarfare]

dp x dc prompt #49

danny and damian twin au, but it’s crack. :))

danny and damian get into being really competitive at a very young age in the league, and even on their very rare off time they secretly played games, even if they often got out of hand, nobody ever seemed to care so long as they were improving.

during one of their first missions, it’s starting to go really bad, and damian figures it out before danny. he makes up a game of hide and seek, and danny scrambles off to look for a hiding spot while damian does the same, except he knows it’s because there’s someone after them. by the time backup arrives and the threat is taken care of, the only thing they’re able to find is a scrap of cloth and a splatter of danny’s blood.

eight years later, the two lock eyes in a gotham alleyway while danny tries to drag an unconscious mugger through a wall.

“oh dang. i guess i lost hide and seek than.”

“danny??? where have you been, it’s been eight years?!?!”

nobody ever challenges danny to hide and seek again after that.

(edit- sorry for any typos, this is hour 47 of no sleep)

[clarissaweasley-10]

Girls don't want flowers, they want Grayson Hawthorne to call them "sweetheart."

[harmonysanreads]

i wish you would write a fic where vampiretham realises he is as simple as a mere mortal when it comes to things (you) and that he tries to redeem himself by not being so simple (a simp) only to realise he is simple (a simp)

What I'm getting from this and the previous ask is that you guys want to see Vampire!Alhaitham suffer lmaooo

At his core, Alhaitham is simple, yes, regardless of what au we put him in. Vampiretham's revelation that he's not-so-rationally enamored (beyond help) with you changes the orbit of his life. He tries so hard to be 'normal' around you and gatekeep the extent of your power over him but he just.. can't, not very successfully anyway.

Sometimes he feels frustrated by how easily you turn his brain to mush, it's agonizing, feeling his control seep through his fingers like sand and not having any motivation to reclaim it. No, although he's not one to verbally declare that you could put him in a collar and keep him kneeled like an obedient dog, he never tries to save himself either, even though it'd be easy for him. Any other yandere would've gone insane down this path but, he makes it look so casual as well.

You don't need to have him wrapped around your finger, he wraps himself around it.

[whatitshouldvebeen]

After your most recent fic I couldn’t n help imagining, how would Johnny react if he did accidentally kill the reader? Like maybe one of his beatings just goes too far, do you think he would be regretful or would he really just not care? I love all of your work 💕

Johnny Slaughter x Reader

Too Much Trouble part 2

Contains: death, extreme angst, don't read if you're sensitive 'cause I almost cried writing it

Johnny knew something was wrong the moment your body shuddered and went limp. 

Well, he knew something was wrong before that point. You were what was wrong. You and your annoying bullshit, the way you wouldn't leave him alone, the way you reached out and cupped his face and choked out you loved him as he strangled you. 

Why wouldn't you shut up? If you had just stopped following him around apologizing, begging for his forgiveness, asking what you could have done differently, this wouldn't have happened. 

His frustration peaked when you insisted he needed help, claiming his anger was an overreaction. You didn't get to decide the impact of your actions on him. If only you had focused more on his feelings than on justifying your mistakes, perhaps you'd have realized the need to stay silent.

But, no. You continued to express concern for him, wanting him to understand your perspective. As if he could comprehend the world through the lens of someone so foolish and lacking self-preservation. Being so fucking stupid as to claim he was the one with the problem as you were the source of every single issue in his life. 

In his mind, there was a snapshot of who you were supposed to be: docile, sweet, a homemaker, a mother, a comforter, an absolver. You always forgave him, you never gave up on him, and you never once even considered leaving him.

But when you strayed from that image; when you were stressed, when you were upset or angry, and especially when you dared to talk back, you weren't the person he idealized you as. You were pathetic, stupid, weak, and you disgusted him. 

So it felt natural when he beat you, strangled you, smashed you against the wall and threatened you. After all, you weren't behaving. You weren't conforming to his idealized version of you. You weren't the person he cared for, you were someone else entirely. And god, he hated it when you weren't the vision in his mind's eye.

But the moment that shudder coursed through your body, the hands that had been in the process of beating you stilled. The mouth that had been wishing your death silenced. The hate that had been coursing through his veins chilled. 

"Quit messin' around," he said, shoving your back as you lay face down on the ground in a pool of your own blood. You only jostled, then lay silent. 

Johnny shoved you again, then again, and you rolled over on your side. Your eyes were dull and lifeless, bloodshot and swollen from crying and being beaten. Your mouth hung open limply, blood trickling from your split lip.

Disbelief flooded him. You'd survived worse before, why did you give up this time? You told him you'd never leave him! You swore it on your life! Yet, you were gone. You'd lied. You did leave him. 

He didn't recognize the foreign feeling twisting in his stomach. Regret? Remorse? Wasn't this what he'd been wishing for every goddamn time you'd made him beat you back to your senses? 

He wiped his cheek. Your blood mixed with his tears, smearing across his face. 

"Baby?" He said, much softer. He rested a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your face was smashed almost beyond recognition. Your throat was purple and black. Even your tongue was swollen, holding your shattered mouth open. 

He sat on the floor, cradling your battered form. One hand stroked your hair, patches having been torn from your scalp when he flung you around the room. "Honey, this ain't funny. Quit pretendin'."

Johnny knew. He knew what he'd done. He finally freed himself of you. So why did it hurt? Why was his heart fracturing into a thousand glass shards, stabbing through his chest, more painful than any wound he'd ever sustained?

Tears were streaming down now, but he didn't notice until they splattered on your face. He angrily wiped them off you, which turned into a frenzy of trying to clean you. 

He ripped off his shirt and used it to rub away the blood until he could almost see the woman he could remember. The woman who would light up when he returned. Who would run into his arms, squeeze him tight, and tell him she missed him. Who told him she loved him as the last thing she said every night, even if he hardly ever responded. 

Who carried his baby.

Cold dread filled him. His baby, only two, and already their momma was gone. 

Johnny knew he wasn't a good father. He was hardly ever home, and when he was he spent more time annoyed with the kid than spending time with them. He'd get pissed when they repeated themselves, or when they'd beg for his attention, even though he knew they weren't doing it to anger him. 

And now their mother was cold, lifeless in his arms. The woman who had protected their kid on those days when he'd had enough of their whining and wanted to leave them in the woods. Who had assured him that he'd love them when they got older, and swore they were only so annoying because they didn't know any better. 

He sobbed, then. He couldn't remember the last time he cried, but he was broken now. He held you tight and moaned, his body racked with tormenting pain. He hated you, but he realized he loved you even more. Only, it was too late. 

All he wanted to do was to bring you back even just for a moment to tell you how much you meant to him. He told your corpse all the things you'd hoped and prayed to hear every moment of your life. 

He said he wished he would've treated you better. He told you he loved you and he'd never again take you for granted. 

And there you lay, like all the times you'd told him you loved him and he responded with silence or distain. For the first time, he felt how you felt every moment of your life. 

He loved you even if you never returned the sentiment again. He loved you, even though you could never love him back. 

He loved you, but it'd always be too late.

[myimaginationplain]

It's interesting to me how even though Thrúd has the aesthetic & air of the rebellious cool-girl archetype, she's far more sheltered than either Atreus or Angrboda, despite both of them being dorkier & visually softer. It's obvious in the way she talks about asking for her mother's permission to be a valkyrie, meanwhile Atreus has long stopped bothering to ask for his father's permission to do anything since before the beginning of the game, & Angrboda has no one's permission to even seek out since both of her parents are absent & her grandmother is estranged.

[overleftdown]

flaming coriolanus snow fanfiction writers for writing the things they are writing as if i’m any more normal than them. sitting in my super secret laboratory, cooking up a detailed character analysis of coryo’s narcissism, planning a detailed timeline of events that would just slightly shift the trajectory of his life in a different direction, DSM-5 open on one tab, psychotherapy techniques on another tab, DV survivor blog on another tab, a study regarding cluster B development on another tab, while eating biscof cookies and kettle popcorn.