#the people who hold the stories are all dead

[morgan-tha-gorgan]

Something I don't see enough people talking about is how Deadpool and Wolverine isn't so much a starting point as it is a send off to an era of movies of which we will never see again.

I recently watched the first Xmen movie and it feels so completely different to what we have today. It was almost like it was embarrassed to call itself a superhero movie and instead was going for sleek action movie, which was quite popular in the late 90's and early 20-aughts. It felt like everyone was wearing black jumpsuits because they were afraid they wouldn't be taken seriously by mainstream movie goers. (Another common theme of the time period).

Jump to 24 years later and it is a very different world. Not only do we have grown people crying in theaters over Wolverine's classic yellow suit, but people went wild when he pulled on his mask...could you see people in 2000 having that kind of reaction to that mask? No. The movie would have been dead on arrival. Comic fans would have ate the shit up. But I don't think mainstream audiences were ready for that sincere of a choice in wardrobe. It took us 24 years to get to where Hugh Jackman could wear that suit, and I think it was worth the wait.

The credit scene clips from the past 25ish years of Xmen movies and other Fox productions made me cry, not just bc of the song choice (the universal song used to invoke nostalgia) but because you saw how much they loved making those movies. That they were always fun to make. And even though no one had yet cracked the formula on how to put superheros on film, they put their whole pussies into it. And some results were great and some we still kinda use as punchlines to this day. And yet, both were represented in Deadpool and Wolverine in a loving way. Electra was not nearly as beloved as Blade. But I still heard both characters getting a cheer when they appeared.

It is possible they will make a second Deadpool and Wolverine movie. But I don't think it was the intention. Ryan Reyolds and Hugh Jackman both met on the set of Xmen Origins: Wolverine. Ryan was so taken with his character he spent the next 7ish years trying to force it into existence. Whereas Hugh spent those same 7ish years playing the same character and was happy to put him to rest. It just so happens they both wanted to make this movie together. And bc they were some of the original actors from the beginning of the genre, the movie ended up being about their friendship, with some sendoffs to old favorites who maybe never got to be in the limelight the way they did.

This movie deftly mixes sincerity with humor. It doesn't make fun of the audience for what they like. Instead it respected our love for these characters and their stories. No matter how weird or ridiculous they may seem on the surface, there is a heart and a love there between writers, actors, and audience.

And they got that. Shawn Levy, Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman really got it. And so this movie was a love letter to all superhero movies: the ones we hold dear to our hearts regardless of how "succesful" they were.

It is like what Movies with Mikey says, "Every movie is a miracle," and Deadpool and Wolverine celebrate that.

[kusanagihaku]

the promises carved into our tears 

⭢ haku x mc, 3.6k

I will look for you in my next life, and the next, and the next. Now that I have tasted how sweet a happy ending with you can be, I will turn my back on fate over and over again, if only to meet you one last time.

or: a red string soulmate au where hotarubi works for yuelao, 如果可以-style. on ao3 here.

“Nightmares again?” 

Haku sinks into a chair, blinking blearily at Subaru as flames clear slowly from the edge of his vision. “Mm.” 

Subaru smiles sympathetically. He sets a warm teacup down on the table in front of Haku, and motions for him to take a sip. “Gyokuro blend, from Nakamura Tokichi. Zenji’s just stepped out to get this week’s list of clients from Yuelao.” 

Haku murmurs a thanks as he cradles the teacup in his hands. It is nearly too hot to hold, but the weight in his hands is grounding, and it doesn’t take more than a few sips before the fog behind his eyes clear. 

Good. He has a full day of work ahead of him. 

It started after The Incident back at Darkwick – after the smoke had cleared, all major and minor deities had descended on the island, eager to recruit a freshly dead ghoul into their ranks. 

Once most of them had gotten over the shock of also needing to work in the afterlife (Daikokuten had laughed, saying, “How else do you think the gods keep this world running, if not for the behind the scenes work of us supernatural beings?” before promptly offering Taiga a job) and the shock of there being another ghoul in their midst (Zenji’s non-apology was rather sheepish, and mostly directed at Jiro), Towa was the first to be recruited, enticed by Yuelao’s stories of soulmates tied together with red string and destined lovers with fates written in the stars. Haru had followed, of course – only for a while, until Towa gets settled, he said. I’ll worry about him. 

Naturally Zenji got pulled along too, claiming the red strings he’d tie would be brilliant source material for his next manuscript. After all, love sells, doesn’t it? 

Subaru didn’t have the heart to remind him there would be nobody around to publish his manuscript, now that none of them were corporeal, but had followed him anyway, despite an offer from Ame-no-Uzume to work as a kabuki talent scout. There was something repelling about going back to his old life, he said, and left it at that. 

Of course, they pulled the shell of their vice-captain along too. It was the least they could do, with what was left of Haku. 

Not that Haku minded – working for Yuelao isn’t particularly taxing. He sends them a list of soulmates meant to meet that week, each pair of serial numbers complete with the time and location; all they have to do is map out their routes each day, show up at the correct place and time with the red soulmate strings, then let the latent magic floating in the fabric of the universe do its work. 

It’s mostly paperwork anyway, with the biggest part of their job being signing off on each pair after the soulmate strings tie themselves. He can’t complain; it’s been easy work for the past twenty odd years, the days slipping by like water between his fingers. Not a bad way to spend eternity. 

And it’s fulfilling too  – like what Zenji says, there’s something special in seeing bonds form between two people that are two sides of the same coin. It reminds him of–

Haku sets his empty cup down. Shakes his head to clear it. 

Subaru looks up from the book he is reading, but does not say anything. He picks up the teapot, instead, and refills Haku’s cup. 

Haku nods in thanks. 

The comfortable silence stretches out again, drifting like dust motes in the late morning light. It is only interrupted when Zenji arrives back home, banging his way through the entrance of their shared home with a triumphant, “Guess who I met on the way home!”

Haku cracks a smile. There is always something infectious about Zenji’s enthusiasm, no matter how tired he is. “Who?” 

“Towa!” Zenji exclaims. He sets his messenger bag on the table. “Still as floaty as ever. He rejected my offer to let him listen to my latest plot idea, though. It seemed like he had somewhere to be.” 

Subaru laughs. “He must have been heading to a binding. He’s still on morning shift, after all.” 

Zenji hums as he unzips his messenger bag and pulls out their soulmate lists for the week. “I told him he and Haru were welcome over for dinner any time. Don’t think he heard me, though.” 

Subaru nudges a freshly-poured cup of tea away from Zenji’s stack of paper. “I’ll text Haru. It’s been a while since we last saw him.”

And it has been – the last time Haku remembers seeing the red-haired ghoul was sometime two or three months ago in April. All five of them were slated to work a freshman orientation at a university, easily one of the busiest times of the year for the entire Yuelao organisation. Instead of going to his allocated location and waiting, however, Towa had just tossed all the red strings he had in his box up in the air, waved a hand, and trusted that all the strings would go where they were meant to go. 

Haru had cried at the logistical nightmare, then promptly banned Towa from holding the box containing their soulmate strings ever again. Haku wonders idly if Haru ever recovered from the stress. 

Zenji shuffles the stack of paper into three smaller piles, then hands one pile each to Subaru and Haku. They descend into silence, the way they always do with a new list, quietly setting virtual push-pins on their Maps apps to plan out their individual routes for the week. 

Haku is at the end of his list before he sees it. Tucked under entry number 85, his last pair for the week, is a single serial number, slid in at 5.17pm at a park in Meguro. 

He blinks. That’s not supposed to happen. Don’t they usually come in a pair? 

He waits until Subaru looks up from his own list before carefully highlighting the problem. 

Subaru glances over the strange entry, brow furrowed. “Must have been an administrative error. Perhaps whoever was compiling the lists forgot to copy paste the second serial number in?” 

Haku looks doubtfully at the lone serial number sitting at the bottom of the page. Administration has never made a mistake before. “Perhaps.” 

Zenji leans over, peering over his glasses. “My last one for the week is there too,” he says. “At 5.09pm. We can go together to figure it out.” 

Subaru rests his chin on his hands. “My day ends at 4.28pm. Shall we head there together? I’m curious to see what happens.” 

A wave of gratefulness for their wiling companionship slides a smile onto Haku’s face. “Yeah. Yeah, why not?” 

-

The end of the week does not come soon enough. 

They meet at the corner near the Meguro River as the summer sun begins to dip lower in the sky. It is a short walk to the park they are meant to be at, and along the way Zenji regales them with how one of his bindings this morning looked like it was right out of a romance novel. 

“Was it better than the one last week?” Haku teases, and Zenji laughs, bright and loud. 

“The one at the cat cafe? No, nothing can beat that! I could tell right away those two were meant to be, I swear.” 

The park they stop in front of is small, more like a playground than anything else. There is a small child sitting on the swings, blue push-popsicle sweating in his little fist. His feet barely touch the floor as he swings gently back and forth, looking around the neighbourhood with wide, curious eyes. 

“That’ll be him, then,” Haku says. He leans over to check Zenji’s list, then flicks his wrist to check the time. “Any minute, now.” 

Subaru sighs, smiling. “I love it when they find their soulmates young. It’s the best kind of friendship, isn’t it?” 

“Exactly,” Zenji coos. He tugs open his messenger bag to retrieve his box of red strings. “It’s always adorable. Goodness, I want to pinch his little cheeks… he has no idea what’s in store for him.” 

Haku snorts fondly at the two of them. Thank goodness they weren’t visible to humans – three strange men standing in a playground staring at a child? Never mind they still looked like they were in their mid-twenties, they’d be reported for kidnapping straight away. 

Before he can say anything, though, a slightly older boy rounds the corner on his bicycle. It is evident he is new to cycling, shiny orange bicycle wobbling from side to side as he banks hard to the right, trying to make too sharp of a turn. 

Haku barely has time to blink before the boy’s bicycle screeches too far to the right, flinging the boy onto the soft, packed earth of the playground. 

There is a teary “ow,” as the boy sits up, cradling a scraped knee. His hands are bloody, too, roughness of the ground having rubbed abrasions onto the skin of his palm. 

The boy on the swing slips off his seat neatly. He barely comes up to Haku’s hip. “I saw that.”

The boy on the floor whips around at the sound, scowling through his tears. “No, you didn’t.” 

“I did,” he confirms. His tongue flashes blue as he speaks. “It’s okay, though. My brother says it’s normal to fall when you just start learning. Do you need help?”

The older boy hesitates. “Maybe.”

As he helps him up, Zenji slides his box open, and lifts a single red string out of it. He blows, gently, and they watch as the thin thread rolls off the tips of his fingers and drifts over to where the older boy has just regained his balance. It loops around their arms and knots around both their little fingers, giving off a gentle glow as both ends seal, before disappearing. 

The only evidence that anything ever happened is Zenji’s beam as he scribbles a quick signature beside their serial numbers. “Lovely!” 

He clicks his pen closed before tucking everything haphazardly back into his bag, and they watch as the boys pick up the bicycle and begin to walk away. Subaru turns to face Haku. “It’s going to be 5.17pm soon.”

Haku looks down at his watch. Two minutes. 

He has barely retrieved his own box of strings out from his bag when a voice sounds out behind them – “Excuse me. Coming through.”

Time stops. 

It is a voice he can recognise anywhere, a voice he hears in the moments between closing his eyes and falling asleep, one he hears echoing through the threads of his dreams and nightmares alike. It sinks into his skin, past the beat of his heart and the pulse of his nerves, and fills his veins with a feeling he does not quite dare to describe as hope. It sends tremors down the tips of his fingers; it calls open a rift in his memory he has never attempted to heal.  

He turns around, almost mechanically, and sees you. 

-

You swear to every deity there is that if the universe has a reason it’s making you late to your part-time job today, it better be a fucking good one. 

First the trains weren’t running as frequently as they were supposed to, then there was an issue with the gantries malfunctioning at the station exit, then you dropped your bottle and had to run after it for a bit to get it back and in the process missed the green light to cross the road… and now, finally on the home stretch to your employer’s place there are three fucking idiots standing in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking your way. 

You huff. Your employer better be flexing their omniscient powers to read your situation – what for work for a minor god if they make you relive every tiny inconvenience to explain why you’re fifteen minutes late to your job? 

(Never mind that they’re actually incredibly nice and don’t really care when you head in for work as long as you get their paperwork done.) 

“Excuse me,” you call out. “Coming through.” 

All three men whip around. On their faces are various states of astonishment, frozen almost comically in their surprise. 

You’re about to sigh and push forward, when you suddenly notice the colour of their eyes. 

Shit. 

They’re not human. 

Fuck. 

You send a quick prayer to your employer. Hopefully they’re listening – the last time you ran into another supernatural being he made you look for his glasses for two hours before receiving a call saying he left them at home. 

You don’t generally mind helping minor deities here and there, honestly, especially not since they bless you right after for your help. Most of them are really nice. In fact, you’d even say you’re used to doing little things for them, having grown up with the Sight and being able to see supernatural beings for most of your life. But these three don’t look like they need any help, and you’re going to be late to what you know is going to be a mountain of paperwork and— 

You think the tallest one might be crying. 

Ah.

Before you can ask if he’s okay and if they need any help, something bright and glowing rises from the box one of them is holding. 

It elongates, spinning itself slowly mid-air, one end gliding over to you like it has found its target. The other end floats up to the man with green hair. As you watch in bewilderment, it gently wraps around both your little fingers, then tightens with a flash of gold. 

It sends a searing pain through your arms, a shock that slams the air out of you and turns your vision an inky black. 

-

You are standing on a wooden porch, shade of dripping wisteria providing you a little shelter from the grey drizzle. The quiet patter of the rain is only interrupted when someone calls your name, a soft summoning that fills you with warmth. You turn your head to see the brown-haired man – Subaru whispers into your mind, like his name has been there all along – smiling at you. Tea is ready, he says. Come inside. 

You are looking down from the top of a long staircase, closely packed torii gates lining the path down. The stone steps beneath your feet are faded with age, but the red of the dates are vibrant, almost as if they were recently painted. The blue haired man in front of you turns, grinning brightly; his ruby eyes sparkle in the dim light as he extends his hand backwards. Zenji – the flash of his name brings along with it a swell of affection. Come, my dear, he says. They’re waiting for us. 

You are sitting on a cushion laid out on the porch of a traditional Japanese house, back resting against doors made of paper and wood. It overlooks a quiet garden that extends on all three sides; the peacefulness of the stone lanterns makes it feel like a secret you are bound to keep. Your legs are stretched out in front of you, covered by a black blazer with gold trim and pressed against the long legs of someone else. Your hands lay in your lap, fingers intertwined with his graceful ones. When you look up at the man with green hair, his eyes closed and dozing, something in you shifts like a sunbeam – Haku. His name is a cloud on your tongue, painting the inside of your lungs a new, different, golden sort of warmth. It tangles itself into the base of your throat, all tender and sweet; your heart aches with a fondness you’ve never thought possible. Haku. 

You are dangling your feet off the edge of a dock, watching diamonds of moonlight dance off the ripples in the water. Translucent fish float lazily around your feet, drifting in invisible eddies only they can see. An arm is curled behind you as you lean against someone’s shoulder; you don’t have to look up to know the giddy feeling running through your veins is because of the soft kisses Haku is dropping into your hair. He raises his hand to brush your cheek, to tilt your chin up to face him. You watch the monochrome of the moon wash his eyelashes a silvery grey as he dips towards you, before your eyes flutter closed at the gentle warmth of his lips on yours, languorous and insistent and exploring. How lucky you are, you remember, to be able to love him like this. How lucky you are, to have him love you. 

You are pressed up against the back of a door, your shirt half unbuttoned and blazer long discarded somewhere on the floor. Haku’s hands are everywhere, mouth hot on the hollow behind your ear as your fingers scrabble against the buttons of his vest. Princess, he groans, all teeth and tongue on your neck as he slips a leg between yours. Please. And you acquiesce, as you always do, melting into him under the deftness of his fingers and the heat of his breath. He hangs stars on the ladder of your spine and his name on the roof of your mouth; you dance in the fire he lights in the kiln of your hips. You think, as he pulls gasp after gasp from the scorch of your skin, that if it is for Haku you will burn yourself inside out, if only he asks. 

You are sitting - no, lying - in a pile of rubble. There are flames licking up the walls around you, ghastly bright and smokeless, unending despite the rain that seems to be pouring around everything else. You are dimly aware of how close the flames are to you, but the burning that flickers from under your skin is infinitely more unbearable.   

There are sobs above you from the figure who has pulled you into his lap, cradling you in his arms and shielding you from the rain; you barely need to open your eyes to hear the guilt leaking out each breath Haku takes.  

“Don’t cry,” you rasp. Some part of you recognises the irony, given the tears staining your own cheeks, but you raise a heavy hand anyway, thumb brushing the wetness away from his cheeks. It is hard to form words. You hope Haku understands. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. He are shaking uncontrollably, tsunamis rolling off the tense slope of his shoulders. “I should have tried harder—“

“No,” you say, again, this time a little more vehemently. The scratch of your throat worsens, but you no longer have the strength to cough out the petals that have lodged themselves in your lungs. 

You want to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, it was never his fault, that he has done nothing but try as hard as he could to break your curse the moment you stepped into Darkwick. He has spent so much of himself making your final months lovely, and even now with the walls crumbling around him he still has not let you go. 

I’m sorry, you want to say. For meeting you on the train that day, already like this, already cursed. For not meeting you earlier in this life, from the beginning already too late. For being filled with flower and fire, even though all I want to be is filled with my love for you. 

But it is getting hard to breathe, and it is getting dark, and you are so, so tired. 

“Wait for me,” you say, instead. You tilt your face into the palm of his hand, and inhale the last of his scent as best as you can. 

When you gather the strength to speak again, your voice is an oath made, fierce and low, carved into the ache of your tears. You look up at Haku, your love, your light, radiant even in his grief, even as your vision is blurry and fading. “We’ll meet again, I promise.” 

I will look for you in my next life, and the next, and the next, until we meet again. I will look for you in every lifetime. Now that I have tasted how sweet a happy ending with you can be, I will turn my back on fate over and over again, if only to meet you one last time. 

-

You blink, and suddenly you are back, gasping for air as an ache cracks open in your chest, gaping and yearning. 

You are vaguely aware of the wetness on your cheeks, and that the tallest man – Zenji – is openly bawling now, but the moment your eyes meet his the rest of the world blurs. 

Haku. 

He has not moved, you think, all hesitance and incredulity, frozen with the helplessness of a man who has wanted so much for so long but has only dared to hope for so little. His gaze shines with unshed tears, disbelief wrapping itself taut around the clench of his fists, like he is trying not to reach out for you, trying to keep the spark of his skin from setting your world ablaze again. 

But, oh, in this life you’ve been raised fireproof, heart forged into a glass-clear that sings for the sunset of his hands. In this life, you are not on a train, you are not too late, and you are not filled the potency of a curse but the promise of a happy ending. 

We’ll meet again, I promise. 

You take a small step forward. The red string wound around your finger ripples, flashes gold in the evening light. 

“Haku?” 

[elysiaheaven]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐘-(𝐒𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥)-𝐉𝐢𝐚𝐨𝐪𝐢𝐮 𝐱 𝐅.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫-(The Fox's Wedding Sequel!)

@kianasflowers Banner credit!

Mentions of Gorey descriptions! Beheading descriptions

Dear Mei,

I realized that the village I'm in needs my help, I just remembered everything. Sorry for not replying for.. a couple of years?

I hope everyone is fine and well! It's a long story how I ended like this. But, I hope I will be able to see you again.

I really want to meet all but I can't! I have to save these people so, Maybe I'll die.

My location is the Xianzhou Luofu, If you want to meet me. You can! But I don't know how I'll be by the time you come or this letter.

Maybe dead, a corpse.

Or Alive, Helping people.

I hope that man who calls himself god wouldn't win...

Hey Mei, Will you get me some new kimono and a seed of the sakura tree? If I died. Place it beside my grave.

If I live...

Present day

The days in Yaoqing were quiet but heavy, filled with both healing and the lingering shadows of your shared trauma. You and Jiaoqiu spent much of your time indoors, a small, humble home nestled in a quiet corner of the village. The walls that held you both felt both like a sanctuary and a cage, protecting you from the outside world while reminding you of the isolation brought by your injuries.

You struggled with your mobility, the pain in your neck and feet making every step a reminder of the glass shards and the torment you had endured. Walking was a challenge; sometimes, even the simplest movement felt like an insurmountable task. And Jiaoqiu—his blindness had taken away much of his independence, and though he tried to adjust, it was clear the world felt different to him now, unfamiliar and unforgiving.

Cooking had become a trial for both of you. You would attempt to stand by the stove, wincing as you leaned against the counter, trying to prepare a simple meal. But even that was difficult. Your body protested with every movement, and Jiaoqiu—once so self-sufficient—was now struggling to eat due to the severity of his internal wounds. Spicy food, which he had once enjoyed, now caused him immense discomfort, his body rejecting the heat as it tried to heal.

There were moments of despair, moments where you both felt as though the weight of your past was too much to bear. The nights were particularly hard for Jiaoqiu, plagued by vivid nightmares that left him trembling and drenched in sweat. You would wake to the sound of his ragged breaths, his body tense with the horrors that played out in his mind.

Jiaoqiu stirred in his sleep, his body tense as the nightmare took hold. His breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling unevenly, trapped in the throes of a memory turned twisted and nightmarish.

In his dream, the air was thick with the smell of blood, the sound of clashing metal, and the sight of Hoolay standing before him, blade in hand. Jiaoqiu was bound, unable to move, his limbs frozen as he watched helplessly. You stood on the ground before Hoolay, your body bloodied, your neck exposed—ready for the final blow.

"No…" Jiaoqiu gasped, his voice hoarse, barely able to form the words. His throat tightened, his heart pounding against his ribs, desperate to stop what was about to happen.

But the scene continued, cruel and unrelenting. Hoolay's lips curled into a sneer, eyes dark and unfeeling as he raised the blade high above your head.

"Don't do it!" Jiaoqiu screamed, his voice breaking. But Hoolay only laughed, cold and merciless, the sound echoing in the empty space.

You turned to face Jiaoqiu, your eyes wide, filled with a strange, unsettling calm. Blood dripped from your wounds, your body trembling, but your lips twisted into a smile—a horrifying, broken smile.

"You did this," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of sorrow and accusation. "It's your fault I died, Jiaoqiu."

He shook his head, eyes wide with terror. "No… No, I didn't mean for this to happen!"

But you only laughed, a haunting, echoing sound that filled the air. "Of course, you did. You were too weak to save me. You let this happen."

Tears streamed down his face as he struggled against the invisible bonds, desperate to reach you, to stop what was happening. "I tried! I tried to save you!"

Your smile widened, grotesque and unnatural, your eyes hollow, as if all the life had been drained from them. "Too late," you hissed, your voice turning sharp, venomous. "You always fail, don't you?"

Hoolay’s blade descended swiftly, and you didn’t flinch. You just stood there, still smiling as the sharp edge came down, slicing through your neck with sickening precision. The sound of flesh tearing and bone cracking filled Jiaoqiu’s ears, louder than anything he had ever heard before.

"NOOO!" Jiaoqiu screamed, his voice raw, his throat burning as the world spun around him. He couldn't bear to watch, but he couldn’t look away.

Your head rolled from your shoulders, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Your body crumpled, lifeless, the blood pooling around you, a stark contrast to the eerie smile still lingering on your severed face.

Jiaoqiu sobbed, shaking uncontrollably, as Hoolay’s mocking laughter rang out. "Look at her," Hoolay taunted, kicking your head towards Jiaoqiu's feet. "Look at what you let happen."

Jiaoqiu was paralyzed, his mind broken, the sight of your dismembered form seared into his brain. Your head lay inches from him, eyes still open, still staring at him with that unnerving smile.

"I’ll never leave you," your voice whispered, even though your mouth didn’t move. "I’ll haunt you forever… You deserve this, Jiaoqiu. This is what you made me."

Jiaoqiu screamed again, his heart tearing apart as your words echoed endlessly in his mind. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

But in the nightmare, there was no escape. Hoolay stepped closer, blade dripping with your blood, his grin widening. "You failed her once," he sneered, "and now you’ll keep failing. Over, and over, and over again."

Jiaoqiu's hands clutched at his head, unable to bear the torment. "Please… stop…"

But the nightmare only deepened. Hoolay raised the blade once more, aiming it toward Jiaoqiu this time, his voice cold and final. "It's time for you to join her."

It’s your fault. You let her die.

In the nightmare, your voice echoed, twisted and unnatural, as you stood over him. Headless, your body loomed, holding your severed head in one hand. The blood dripped slowly, pooling beneath you, and your lips—still smiling—moved, whispering something too familiar.

“Jiaoqiu." your voice rasped. “They’ll stuff us both in the secret box… of the goldfish.”

Jiaoqiu’s heart pounded violently in his chest. The words made no sense, but the terror they filled him with was overwhelming. You stepped closer, head dangling from your fingers as if it were nothing more than a toy. The smile on your lips widened, grotesque, and your dead eyes locked onto his.

“They’ll put us together," you continued, "inside that box. You and me… forever.”

Jiaoqiu couldn’t move, couldn’t scream. His body felt frozen, paralyzed by fear. His hands trembled, desperately trying to claw himself out of the nightmare, but it was useless. You bent down, pressing your headless body against his, your cold, bloodstained hands grabbing him, holding him tight.

“We’re going together,” you hissed, your breath cold against his skin. “Inside the box… together.”

He screamed, finally breaking through the silence, but it didn’t stop. Your grip tightened, your bloody fingers digging into his skin, pulling him into the darkness.

Suddenly, the world seemed to collapse. Your body went limp, falling to the floor in a heap of broken limbs. And then, with a chilling whisper, your head rolled toward him, your mouth still moving as it spoke: “It’s a nightmare, Jiaoqiu… Wake up!”

The words jolted him, and Jiaoqiu woke with a gasp, his breath ragged and uneven. His body felt heavy, drenched in cold sweat, his heart still hammering against his ribs. He blinked, expecting to see the comforting glow of light in the room—expecting to see you beside him.

But there was nothing.

Only darkness.

For a moment, Jiaoqiu’s heart stopped. He blinked again, harder this time, trying to adjust his eyes to the blackness that surrounded him. But no matter how many times he tried, no light came. It hit him then, like a punch to the chest: the Tumbledust poison. The nightmare had faded, but the reality remained.

He was blind.

The room felt suffocating, the weight of the darkness pressing in on him, as if the nightmare hadn’t fully let go. Jiaoqiu's breath came quicker, panic rising in his throat. He reached out, his trembling hands searching the bed, the space beside him where you should be. But all he found was emptiness.

“Where… where are you?” he whispered, his voice shaking, as his fingers frantically felt the sheets, the pillow, the empty space. His hands moved faster, desperate to find you, to feel your warmth. But there was nothing.

Jiaoqiu’s mind raced. You were there, he thought. You were right there.

But all he could feel was the cold emptiness of the bed, the sheets crumpled beneath his fingers, his touch finding no trace of you. Fear crept up his spine, his chest tightening with every second that passed.

“Where are you?” he whispered again, louder this time, his voice tinged with desperation. His hands moved in every direction, reaching for the space around him, the nightstand, the floor, anything that could prove you were still here.

Jiaoqiu’s breathing quickened, and panic clawed at his throat as his hands frantically searched the bed. His voice trembled, his desperation rising. "Where are you?" he whispered, louder this time, his heart pounding in the oppressive silence. His mind was spinning, trapped in the darkness, unable to find you, unable to escape the terror gripping him.

Just as he was on the verge of screaming, of losing himself completely to the fear, he felt it—arms wrapping around him from behind, warm and gentle. The familiar scent of you washed over him, grounding him in the present.

“It’s okay,” you whispered softly into his ear, your voice calm and soothing. “I’m right here.”

Jiaoqiu froze, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away as your warmth enveloped him. He exhaled a shaky breath, his heart still racing but slowing, his panic easing.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you continued, your voice a soft murmur. “So I stepped out for a bit. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He was still trembling, still uncertain if this was real or another nightmare. The darkness made everything uncertain. He mumbled, barely able to form words. “Come… kiss me. So I know it’s really you.”

You shifted, moving in front of him, and your lips brushed his—soft, familiar, real. Jiaoqiu exhaled in relief, his body relaxing against you. He clung to you as if you were his lifeline, his grip tight and desperate.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your lips. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to doubt you. I… I was so scared.”

You smiled softly, stroking his cheek. “It’s fine,” you whispered, kissing his forehead gently. “It’s okay. I’m here now. You’re safe.”

You cradled Jiaoqiu, feeling his breathing slow and deepen as sleep finally claimed him, you tried to follow him into that same restful darkness. But something was wrong. Even in the silence of the night, whispers crept into your ears, soft at first, but growing louder with each passing moment. The voices of countless souls, pleading, moaning, begging for peace.

Their cries sent a chill down your spine. You squeezed your eyes shut, holding Jiaoqiu tighter, as if his warmth could shield you from the cold weight of their voices.

"Help us… free us… give us peace…"

The words wrapped around your mind, echoing endlessly. You could feel the souls crowding around you, unseen but close, their desperation pressing in on you from all sides. Your heart raced as you gritted your teeth, willing the whispers to stop, but they only grew more insistent.

You buried your face against Jiaoqiu, your grip tightening, as though if you held on tightly enough, they wouldn’t be able to touch you. His steady breathing was the only thing anchoring you to this reality. But the voices wouldn’t stop. They wanted something. They needed something from you.

You tried to block them out, tried to convince yourself that it was all in your head. But the feeling of their presence was too strong, too real. Your hands trembled as you clung to Jiaoqiu, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

"Release us…"

Your eyes shot open, the darkness around you feeling suddenly alive, shifting and moving with the weight of the spirits. You didn’t dare look. You couldn’t. The fear was too overwhelming, too paralyzing. The souls weren’t leaving you alone. They were here—right here.

Your teeth ground together painfully as you forced your eyes shut again, but the whispers slipped into your mind like cold fingers, clawing at your thoughts. You held back a sob, trying to breathe through the terror.

Jiaoqiu stirred slightly in his sleep, but he didn’t wake, his exhaustion keeping him under. You envied him. You wanted to escape into the same peaceful darkness, but the souls wouldn’t let you. Their demands grew louder, their voices overlapping into a cacophony that threatened to drown out everything else.

You gripped Jiaoqiu so tightly now that your arms ached, your body tense and shaking. You could feel the tears welling up behind your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now.

But sleep would not come for you. The souls kept you trapped, their whispers pulling you deeper into fear, into the knowledge that you couldn’t help them. You couldn’t even help yourself.

And so you lay there, eyes closed, teeth clenched, shivering in the darkness, too afraid to sleep, too terrified to let go.

[pruneunfair]

different medias ways to promote internalized misogyny: an essay.

Do you remember any of those "Me vs other girls" templates that people nowadays use for yuri art? the type that are so painfully cringey that you think whoever made it is just messing around. We think that it just died down when everyone matured but that's not the case, internalized misogyny is still rampant in media that promote it in a subtler way. One of them is of course Otome isekai, the genre of isekai taking place in a fantasy/historical romance book/video game within the stories universe.

everyone knows the good old classic shojo tropes that haven't been popular in years. A female lead who is pure and sweet, a handsome and powerful male lead who will save her with marriage, at least one other guy who will fawn over said female lead, the best friend with the personality of 2016 quirky memes, and of course the evil villainess with a design that is very obviously designed look evil, villains with a Ursula or the evil queen from snow white vibe if you will.

for a long time now in the manhwa community, one of the most popular tropes is an isekai/regression of a villainess who is hated by all. This likely isn't the very first one with this idea but villains are destined to die is one of the most popular with this trope, and it worked. Penelope still retains a level of evilness even with a new soul to keep up with the fact that the OG Penelope was the villain. The og fl Ivonne isn't exactly demonized either, her body is being possessed by a demon named Leila and her soul is stuck in a mirror so no woman is one archetype. VADTD was a phenomenon and it got people into the idea that a villain could be as best a protagonist as a heroine. The community however, had a problem. Even though it was made explicitly clear that Ivonne was not at fault, there were tens of hundreds of the novel readers who still blamed Ivonne instead of Leila. This is not the fault of the author of course but it would be a warning for what would come.

ever since that trope has become very popular due to the nuance it could give. Eventually someone came up with the idea that the typical pure and sweet fl would be the evil one instead, it worked for Cozy Glow so why not here? these fl's ended becoming ogfl's who were pick me's, cruel, crybabies, and most of all: incredibly stupid., this even went to stories that aren't within a novel by using characters who had that sweet angel vibe. They could never hold a candle to the new badass girl bosses because they're old school and like all the other vabid rich ladies. This idea alone wasn't bad but it has been watered down to the point of unoriginality and even writing a mess of a story. They want people to actually hate the ogfl for hurting the misunderstood former villainess and to do that, you'd think they would write them as these calculating manipulators who were not to be fucked with. At the same time though they want to prove how awesome and perfect their new protagonist is and there is a misconception that flaws/mistakes=weak female lead. This results in not just Mary-sues your expected to take seriously but also pathetic villainesses you can't even consider a real threat.

Here's an example of the watered down white lotus trope: Cosette Weinberg from Actually I was the real one. (the manhwa, AIWTRO novel is not as bad)

While not being an isekai but a regression story, Cosette defiantly is meant to resemble the sort of long lost royal daughter who shows up, gets bullied by the "fake" daughter and unlocks her own super epic power to become the best in all the land. In reality Cosette is dead and a demon is controlling her body and being able to use her elemental power is a mere bonus in controlling her body. Since she is a demon you'd think Cosette (or Ragibach) would be a terrifying menace which.. she was portrayed as at first. But she's the basic bitch pick me! so she should never be allowed to win even a small argument, because how else is Keira gonna be a girl boss? it'd be too bothersome to just let Cosette grow even more secretive and calculating so the suspense can actually be felt. The story was so obsessed with Keira being the perfect feminist power girl boss that they forgot that Cosette destroyed the world in the first timeline with ease and grace when they portray her as a screaming idiot who can't make smart decisions. It does the exact same thing that the old style did by inserting a woman to be a foil to the woman your supposed to like. This escalates to even women who support Cosette being villainized even if they don't know what she's like. Such as a maid named Mina, a poor girl picked up off the streets and essentially being used as a tool for Cosette. She commits all these evil henchman crimes for her master with her younger brothers safety and comfort being used as a hostage. Mina ends up getting deported and even suggested to be lashed 50 times for obeying someone who gave her no choice and instead of it being part of the cruel truth of the era, it's just supposed to be karma. Something similar happens to the antagonist of the villainess turns the hourglass Mielle, where she is effectively rendered too stupid to be a threat

This however doesn't stop at the villainesses being dumbed down, the fl Keira suffers the same flaws that the stereotypical shojo fl suffered from. In the novel Keira has no love interest, in the manhwa she has 2 guys, Joseph and Erez, who are into her and she can't decide who she likes more (it's probably gonna end up being Erez). her family was actively shoved to the side for more romance scenes where Keira becomes a crumbling mess. In the novel Zeke had a bigger role. So in the manhwas attempt to emulate the novel they just backpaddled on their efforts to fanfic write it with feminism even though the original was already pretty progressive for Keira.

Now Cosette is a product of the bad writing of a adaptation that feels more like a fanfic given how severe the changes are but at least for the most part, Actually I was the real one was mediocre

There is much worse. If you know me or my account you probably already know who is next. The Infamous Rashta from the remarried empress

Even if you haven't read remarried empress, the trashta nickname became incredibly famous for the white lotus villains of other manhwa. Rashta is a twisted version of the cinderella trope: the poor abused but also very gentle looking girl who finds her prince charming and becomes a queen.

This girl was a slave sold in childhood, and while her backstory is purposely kept in the dark because they don't want you sympathizing with someone they consider a whore who deserves everything that happens to her. It doesn't take much rocket science together to piece what happened. Rashta had been SA by one of her masters and got pregnant with her first child, she gave birth alone and her newborn baby was taken and replaced with a dead baby to emotionally scar her even further, It is implied that she was assaulted again before she runs away and she meets the emperor who makes her his concubine. For the rest of the manhwa her whole story feels like torture porn. Another one of her masters comes back to blackmail her using her child, her value being based on how many babies she can make, everyone basically hates her, her only friend is actively arranging her downfall, her final master becomes known as a sweet little sister of the empress Rashta used to idolize, her daughter is taken away from her the moment she was born, and at long last, she dies alone known as the most evil empress in history. This isn't even mentioning her age. It's never confirmed other than she is an adult but in the eastern empire it's time to debut as an adult at around 17 and given her design with the big eyes which are usually given to the younger characters. So this really sets up even sadder connotations knowing that Rashta could be as young as 17.

Now, how does this story get away with having a punching bag with THIS many tragic elements like this to make the fl Navier look better? well by making her egregiously evil, she can never make smart decisions in street smarts despite it contradicting her rough and tumble backstory, if there's a character your supposed to like getting away with terrible acts, just have Rashta rip out a tongue or betray a friend to entertain the masses! It'd be hard to feel bad when the character in question is going around looking to kill/ ruin the lives of innocents. While the novel did a better job giving Rashta more traits than just "haha I'm a slutty hypocrite" it's still like the manhwa.

I already made a post that goes more into detail about Remarried empresses internalized misogyny that you can check out below, or you could go onto my archive, there's a lot of remarried empress centered posts there too.

Like Keira, Navier isn't as revolutionary as the story wants you to think.

In season 1, Navier wasn't the worst fl ever. She worked hard as empress and while her personality was still a tad dull she seemed to have more character traits then she does now. After that she's just there, she's barely doing anything outside of sitting there looking pretty and getting pregnant with twins. We barley if ever see Navier even doing anything to deliver moments that make her interesting. She doesn't even do anything for her problems even after getting ice powers. It's all her husband and brother that just kill or threaten everyone who criticizes her, Navier barely feels like a main character at this point, she's a side character in her own story. She isn't the badass empress the characters tell you she is, Navier is just another empress who is basically the dream wife for a man in the 50s since she doesn't even need to love the man if she happens not to, she just wanted an empress title so she can feel like she has a purpose. Once again an example of a backpaddling of an attempt at a woman with more than 2 character traits.

The attempts to make you hate a specific character for not being "unique" even come across as embarrassing and even downright childish. Such as the case with her. The trope of the saintess sent as a commoner turned ugly

Diana's case is similar to Rashta's, as in they try REALLY hard to make her hateable even when it starts to lose logic. At first it made sense to call her out on abandoning the common folk when she became crown princess but when you actually read this piece, the hatred for her is centered around the fact that she was upset that a guy who loved her killed for her and she cut him off. Sounds straight out of an incels revenge fantasy. Most of the time Diana isn't even that evil, she has a lot of flaws and certainly isn't the greatest person but she's also not the devil incarnate, yet every time the story tries very hard to make her awful for rejecting a man. She has pink hair, she's angelic looking, she comes across as sweet and dainty yet she won't date the first guy who kills for her? well then that makes her a cruel bitch for not validating the impression she gave off to everyone.

but if you look like the worst gender bent of Therdeo possible with a lot of money to obnoxiously throw around then your super cool and not like the other gold digging bitches! 💅

Hestia is literally what these og fl have been reduced to except she's put in the protagonist position making her 10x insufferable to follow as the leading lady. She purposely provokes Diana hoping to get a reaction out of her so she can humiliate her as revenge in Cael's name without the plot even trying to say that Hestia is not in the right for attacking her husbands ex. The entire point of my derelict favorite is criticizing protagonist centered morality which I would be all here for if they didn't forget all about when writing the supposed feminist icon Hestia who literally attacks a woman and acting like said woman was at fault for her favorite character killing himself, she is literally the pick me girl that everyone claims to hate until she looks like she is a badass when she's not, she's just another case of a poorly made attempt at something "new". Thus Hestia was doomed to teach little girls attacking other women for petty reasons was okay as long as they were basic enough and not into the same boy band as you.

This one isn't as terrible as the last 3 but I'm the queen in this life is a subtler but still an example. Isabella is the deconstructed trope of the favorite child rich girl beginning her new exciting life with handsome men and easily the best into turning into a villainess thanks to the spoiled upbringing and at first... It worked until it flopped just two chapters later.

Like Cosette and Mielle, Isabella is supposed to be this really smart white lotus who manipulated her way into the top but now.. she's just a spoiled brat who cries whenever she can't get her way. She isn't even utilized. While Isabella is pure evil it's the fact that OTHER characters are condoned or given proper moments to shine as smart villains who can get the job done or even be seen as sympathetic and shippable. Ceasre is a good example too because even though he teamed up with Isabella in the last timeline, the later chapters are implying that it was only Isabella and Ceasre was just manipulated. They even give me daddy and mommy issues at the same time so now the commenters think he deserves a second chance even after he SA Ariadne. In fact... I don't there are any other female characters in this comic who are complex, stay alive and are not Ariadne. There was Arabella and Margarete but they got killed off, Sancha isn't so bad but she's still just a follower with nothing much left to her, Lariessa is just there to be the stereotypical crazy ex to make Ariadne look better for not being desperate for a man, Malleta is just a plot device to make things happen and eventually die herself and Lucrezia is basically just Lady Tremaine but worse.

What I meant by not as bad as the last 3, I meant that here in I'm the queen in this life, Ariadne is actually written decently. She actually makes her own decisions, she has a life outside of Alfonso, and she isn't totally insufferable. With her it's more centered around the Narrative trying to say she is ugly to be relatable when it's clear she's not.

quite a few times characters will point out how big her boobs are and how "scandalous" it is. Isabella says they hang like a cows udders, they become a prominent point of scandal when her dress tears at a ball and for some damn reason Isabella gropes her own sister.. So why is all that weird attention to detail even there? Because they want more ways for Ariadne to be sympathetic but they still want her to be conventionally beautiful so there goes any chance at actual relatability when it can easily be interpreted as Isabella just being jealous that she is flat chested.

The only other female characters that aren't leads or pathetic villainesses in this genre are typically the maids whos only personality is being a perfect yes-man that validates jumping on women they don't like either by yelling at them for not going head over heels for their boss or by assisting in ruining their lives.

and if the maid isn't a bland character with blind trust, they're written to be comically evil because once again, their jealous women who only want what the lead has.. and well. This ends up being justified

So is manhwa the only forms of media Internalized misogyny and double standards that runs rampant?

Personally, I am a firm believer that Miraculous ladybug played a role in instilling young girls with this kind of mindset that any girl who isn't a yes-man to you is lying, bratty and general evil bitch thanks to Thomas Astruc's gross views on what feminism is. He's the kind of guy who thinks that if you put a woman in pants and write her as the best hero of all time then that's feminism. First of all, Marinette's entire personality devolves into a rabid stalker for Adrien which is justified with ass pulled trauma in season 5 yet Chloe, who is a terrible person with trauma and chances to grow is somehow worse than a god damn domestic terrorist. 2nd of all, any woman who is also into Adrien is basically hunted down by Marinette like a PG-13 yandere, Kagami is targeted by Chloe and Marinette for being with Adrien and her relationship with him dies almost immediately not to mention that the fandom called her cacagami for months after season 3's release, hell they even pair her up with "I'm just a misunderstood boy with a dead father" Felix who looks identical to adrien.

Lila wasn't even doing anything worthy of Ladybug humiliating her. She lied about being related to a superhero and being besties with Ladybug, got close to Adrien and talked smack about Ladybug. Shitty but not worth Marinette transforming for the sole purpose of embarrassing Lila for daring to try and take Adrien from her as if he's a object. They can't even utilize the girl later despite being allies with Gabriel. Zoe isn't even a damn person, She's just someone's wattpad self insert to show up, be the perfect new girl and replace Chloe using the power of kindness.

but the men? Gabriel is destroying Paris as Hawkmoth and abusing Adrien as a dad? Oh it was just for his wife, remember him as a tragic villain who was trying to be a good dad. Felix tries to forcefully kiss Marinette and gives all the miraculous to Gabe? He's got daddy issues let him live happily with Kagami. Andre is a pos father and abuses his power for either his or his daughters gain? He wouldn't be like that if Audrey didn't use her womanly charms to force him to give up his dreams to be a Politian. See all the damn excuses put up. Not to mention Ladybug rejecting Cat noirs advances is considered her being harsh and mean thanks to the proof of sad music playing and the constant shipping of the two by other characters.

One of the most popular webtoons that is universally hated now as well

Leuce was the first wife of Hades in Greek mythology whom he loved until her death and she became a poplar tree in Elysium. In Lo, Leuce is bastardized as this gold digging nymph who wants to ruin a relationship. She exists for the purpose of making Persephone look better because she home wrecked for superficial reasons therefore Hades grooming Persephone is fine because at least it is for "love"

Persephone's kidnapping was the literal center of Demeter's Hymn on the pain mothers at the time felt when their daughters were kidnapped and sold to marry powerful men and while it is often rewritten in a way where Demeter is over-protective and Persephone just wants freedom, LO does it the worst. The worse part is that it is pretty well known that the relationship between Hades and Persephone is inspired by Humbert and Dolores from Lolita given that some panels are eerily similar to the Lolita movie. Somehow Demeter is still the most evil one since she isn't making it easy for Blue Humbert to get with her 19 year old daughter. To give you an idea how big the age gap is, Hades was already thousands of years old when he gave Demeter a gift for her baby shower...

And Minthe, who in Greek myth was a mistress of Hades that got too cocky and was turned into a mint plant by Persephone, was the first girlfriend of Hades who got treated like shit by his family members for being a nymph. She gets emotionally cheated on and is considered crazy when she gets upset about it. Everyone rubs it in her face that Persephone is with her boyfriend even after she stopped getting it on with Thanatos the moment they became official. She still gets turned into a mint plant and the trauma Persephone caused her had no consequences.

all 3 women pit against eachother, 2 demonized for not being the "good" kind of woman and 1 being actively groomed and taken away from her mother and it's supposed to be a positive moment.

Its all this and more that has damaged the thinking of hundreds of thousands of girls and women into suspecting that any other woman is out to get them if they feel inconvenienced, it encourages the pick me girl mindset that pits women against eachother while the men who encourage it sit back and watch and it downplays the shitty actions of abusive men while blowing womens flaws out of proportion. Nowadays if a female character is introduced that isn't the lead or a loyal maid, readers are already out to call her a bitch and wish for her downfall. Helena from kill the villainess is an unfortunate victim of these consequences.

We could all do so much better if we realized how stupid it is to constantly pit women against eachother for no reason.

Thank you for sticking around for my little essay.

[wanderingsoul6261]

Gif credit goes to scre6m

Tyler Owens x Reader

Synopsis: request fic done with "Blown Away" by Carrie Underwood on the brain. Reader is in an abusive marriage and Tyler finally comes to save her.

Warnings: mentions of abuse/degrading words, swearing, implied character death (not Y/N or Tyler) I think that's it. Let me know if I misses anything. I tried, so I'm sorry if it sucks.

Also not edited, so if there are mistakes, I'm sorry.

Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to hide it for long. She knew eventually that the wounds she wore, that spread across her body like vines, withering her soul away to nothing would give way to something. It was only a matter of time. Her excuses of being too clumsy would only hold up for so long. The split lips, black eyes, and bruises on her body would give way to a story in which people would shove their sympathies and self pity into her face. She didn't want it though. Y/N didn't want the attention, the spotlight. 

She could barely muster up the courage to be on the livestreams with the Wranglers, sitting in the back seat of the red beast that they rode into tornadoes often. Y/N almost grew envious of the truck, watching how well it was cared for and maintained, treated so well. She got barely half of that treatment at home. 

From her husband. 

Oh how doting he was when they first met, willing to bend over backward for her and give her the world. Love her as if she was the last one on Earth, looked at her as if no other woman existed. 

Then he ripped it out from underneath her, twisting a knife into her back at the same time. No matter how much she tried to reach for that knife, she couldn't reach it. She couldn't pull it out, no matter how badly she wanted to. 

But the only person who also seemingly caught on to how she felt was the very man that couldn't have her. 

One Mr. Tyler Owens. 

The man fell head over heels for her but while she was married, he couldn't do anything but watch from afar, appreciating her as a friend only because that was the only way he could have her. And for a while he was okay with that. 

Until he wasn’t.

He noticed the bruises. The split lips. The flinching whenever he or anyone else raised their hands above a certain threshold. Tyler was the one who broke down her door to get to her after finding out she was having a panic attack, the yelling outside the door from the variety of storm chasers overwhelming her. He held her while she slapped and clawed at him, begging him to let her go until she realized it wasn't her husband, and that she was okay. Tyler listened through the paper thin walls of the motel as her husband yelled at her through her phone speaker, calling her terrible names and treating her in a way that not ever, did a single person deserve. He listened as she had nightmares, wanting so desperately to help her, to hold her and reassure her. 

Tyler wanted to be the one to love her because he knew he could do it. 

Not her abusive husband. 

He wouldn't be a husband that kept constant tabs on her and limit her freedom, beating her when she disobeyed or tried to fight back. 

No. He would love her and care for her with every love sick bone in his body, because truly, all he lived for in this world, was her. 

Even if he couldn't have her. 

Even as he now raced towards her home, dead set in the path of EF4 Tornado, threatening to engulf every single thing in its path, including Tyler, Y/N and her abusive husband. He would save both of them, as much as he wished for him to be swept up by the storm and never seen again. 

Tyler had barely put the red beast he drove into park, before his boots hit the ground, his heart pounding in his throat as he called out. 

“Y/N! Y/H/N!” He raced towards the front entrance,hearing yelling and screaming coming from inside. Tyler held his breath, feet pounding up the steps to their home as he forced his way inside, the noises now louder as he tried to figure out where the sounds were coming from. The yelling and screaming echoed from the back of the house, completely forgetting the wind howling outside for a single moment. 

Then he saw her. 

Y/N came around the corner, trying to dodge something her husband threw. Tyler watched as whatever it was shattered against the wall, calling her name before he even realized what he was doing. Her head whipped in his direction, catching sight of him, and he watched as her eyes flooded with relief, before the booming voice of her husband filled the house. 

Y/N rushed towards Tyler, his hands capturing her tear soaked face in his hands, and oh how his heart broke for her. The redness on her cheek, likely from being slapped, along with a split lip. Bruises on her wrists where her husband forcibly held her. His calm resolve started to crumble as he continued to look at her, melting into anger. 

“Y/N. Get to your storm cellar now.” 

“What about you?” She asked. The wind outside grew louder, signaling their impending doom. 

“I'll be there. I promise.” as he spoke those words, her husband rounded the corner from the back of the house, catching sight of the two. 

“Who the hell are you? Have you been fucking my wife? Some fucking nerve to show up here.” He bellowed, advancing on the two. 

“Y/N! Go!” Tyler shoved her out of the way and towards the direction of her storm cellar. She hesitated for a split second, looking between the two men before she finally disappeared. 

“I always knew my wife was a whore. Fucking any man she seen.” Tyler watched as her husband closed the last few steps, the front screen door bursting open from the force of the winds outside. His eyes searched the room, finding an umbrella conveniently placed near the front door, and a split second he grabbed it, swinging it around and heard the destructive crack as he hit her husband upside the head. 

And he collapse to a heap, Tyler standing above him. His chest heaving with panic as he hesitated on what to do. Drag her husband down the stairs to the storm cellar, saving a life, or leave him, giving her a chance to be free from him, also effectively saving a life. 

“Tyler?!” Y/N's panicked cry came from below, spurring him to make a decision. He stepped over the crumpled body, dropping the umbrella and running through the house towards the storm cellar. Bursting his way inside, he made sure the door was sealed. Tyler made his way to her, his arms encasing her in a tight hold, his body covering hers as moments later the rumbling above them heightened, the noises outside growing impossibly louder as Y/N sobbed beneath him, tears soaking his shirt as she cried into his chest. 

Somehow, her crying was loudest, beating the storm that raged on above them. 

“It’s okay. I got you. You’re safe. It’s okay.” He repeated the words, the phrases becoming a mantra as the two of them spent the next several minutes in the cold and damp cellar, waiting out the raging tunnel of wind above them. And as he held her, whispering comforting words, his hand running through her hair in a soothing manner, he vowed that no one would find out about today. 

Her husband's death would be accidental, caught in the storm after he was unable to make it to safety. No one would ever find out that Tyler left him deliberately to die, to free them of his wrath and to save Y/N. 

She was safe, and maybe with time, Tyler could finally have her. 

Maybe he could finally have the chance to treat and love her the way that she deserved. 

[nomoreusername]

Out of Denial

Pairing:Gally x gender neutral reader

Summary: Seeing Gally again brings up emotions you thought you pushed past.

“You were supposed to be dead?!”

“Good to see you too.”

“That's not-that isn't what I meant. It's just-I-we watched you get impaled. That would kill anyone. How are you here, Gally? That's insane. This is insane,”I rambled.

“So is life, seeing as I’m still in it.”

“This is crazy. This just feels like a nightmare,”I admitted, handing him the icepack for his nose. While it didn't look swollen, Thomas had still punched him in the face. Who knows what he would look like tomorrow?

Who even knew he would be awake tomorrow?

I certainly didn't.

“I don't know what you want me to say. I survived, I got picked up, now I’m here,”He listed, placing it on his face.

“That’s an insane thing to survive though. It’s almost unsurvivable, and you're just alive? I mean I’m happy about that. I really am, but it's still a lot. You could always be unexpected, but this is a new level,”I tried to explain.

“I’m alive though. Shouldn't that make you happy?”He pointed out.

“It's not that easy. I have been grieving you for almost a year now. I lived my life in constant mourning for people dying in front of me and for the person who means everything. Now that you're actually here, my mind has this urge to deny everything else. It wants to make up stories where I can see Alby and Winston and everyone else again,”I sighed, purposely not saying Chuck. Sitting beside him, I rested my head on the couch as I looked at him, my feet tucked under me as I took in the information.

“This is good though. It should be good that I’m alive,”He mumbled.

“It is, but it just makes me want to make up all these stories that I know aren't true. It's like since one person I care about isn't actually dead, maybe nobody else is either. Maybe everyone else is living out a secret life. And I know that sounds crazy, and I know it isn't true, but some part of me is so tempted to believe it.”

“I’m sorry. I really wanted to contact you, but I didn't know how. I didn't know where to even start looking, and I didn't know if anybody would want to see me. I didn't mean to make it harder.”

“It's not that you made it harder. I used to spend almost all my time justifying exactly this. Justifying why you were actually okay and safe. Then, I had to push past that and accept that you were never coming back. Now you are back though, and I have to accept that that's not happening for anybody else. It's a lot to take in and accept, on top of what we came here for. There's just so much going on in so little time.”

“I know there is, and I hate that I just threw this on you, but I had to. I saw you, and I had to see you for real again.”

“Gally, do you think that everything will just go back to the way it was before this?”I asked slowly, my expression dropping at the thought.

“No. Not really, but a guy can dream,”He shrugged, leaning his head back. He placed his icepack in his lap before turning to face me. “So where do we start then? Where do we go from here?”

“I don't know,”I admitted.

“Well, I don't either. I wish I did, that I had the answers, but I barely have answers for what's been going on in the past several months, much less hours.”

“It's not your fault,”I repeated.

“Maybe. Maybe not. I can't tell anymore.”

“I can, and you know I’ll call you out when you do something wrong. Right now, you don't have to be. You’ve been through enough. We all have, and it's not your fault life won't give any of us a break.”

“You really mean that?”

“Of course,”I smiled.

“Well, thanks. For the advice. And the icepack,”He smiled back, holding it up.

“It was the least I could do after leaving you like that,”I promised.

“You don't think I blame you for that, do you?”

“I don't know. I’ve been trying not to think about it,”I admitted.

“But now you have to,”He added, reading my mind.

“Yeah. I guess I do.”

“And I have to help think about what we do next, don't I?”

“About us?”I confirmed.

“Yeah. About us.”

“Yeah. I guess you do.”

[bestworstcase]

New rosebird angst theory spotted in the underbrush: Raven having been forced to kill Sum after Whatever They Were Off Doing went sideways. Deeply skeptical about this one, mainly 'cause I'm not sure birdbandit would even maintain her very limited contact with Qrow after something like that.

Doubt.png

the main thing for me is summer is obviously alive, one way or another. rwby is a story, not real life: a woman who went missing under mysterious circumstances 12-14 years ago, who “never came back” and whose memorial is an empty grave, and who has been haunting the narrative in ever more overt ways for nine volumes now, isn’t a character being set up for a reveal that yup, she’s been dead this whole time. the question is whether she’s been enslaved, coerced into service, imprisoned, or willingly chose to join salem.

i think we can rule out “imprisoned” because a) i have no trouble at all believing that the raven we met in 9.10 had a bond to summer, and b) even if raven fled that night, she’s had fourteen goddamn years to blitz back into salem’s house for three seconds, grab summer, and get out again. she’s not a trembling spineless coward, she played cinder fall like a fiddle and planned to play catch-me-if-you-can with salem to keep the lamp out of her hands. lol

likewise, summer being enslaved as per ruby’s assumption is certainly wrong, a) because ruby is verifiably incorrect about when salem started doing this [the hound is a novel experiment] and b) because i think raven would have reacted very differently to ruby at haven had summer met with some tragic worse-than-death ending because raven couldn’t pull her to safety in time. like, we see what guilt-presenting-as-anger looks like from raven when yang confronts her later, and… that scornful “you sound… just like your mother. CINDER! KILL HER!” isn’t it. again, lol

the only cogent explanation for what happened to cause 1. summer’s disappearance and 2. raven’s naked hostility when ruby reminds her of summer thirteen or so years later is summer stabbing her in the back, which lands us Somewhere in the coercion-to-free-choice zone.

this isn’t even getting into the mountain of hints that salem has a mysterious summer-rose-shaped agent holding the fort at beacon whilst searching for the crown.

i’m convinced that the only reason the fandom at large is so resistant to the very obvious conclusion to draw from the information we know is that a lot of people—a lot of Rosebird People in particular—are very married to this idea of summer rose the paragon and raven the fuck up. like people will pay lip service to summer having been imperfect and… like, occasional lip service to raven maybe feeling betrayed. but that’s mostly in the form of “summer rose accidentally abandoned her children because she thought she could be the hero and died or worse, and raven is horrified and angry at perfect summer rose for Failing” which, uh, Doesn’t Count. lmao

this in spite of the bright red blaring alarm bell in the 9.10 flashback of “summer rose telling lies!” – in a story where this ENTIRE WAR is ultimately happening because oz lied to his wife, and then lied to everyone. in the Lying Is Bad story. what fucked raven up that night is that summer legitimately did betray her in some egregious way, i promise

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Madk's mangaka is one of the few people who truly understands the old adage

Love and hate are two sides of the same coin

[windor-truffle]

*chants in increasing volume* ghost AU ghost AU GHOST AU GHOST AU

[icharchivist]

oh no oh no hold on oh no 

sorry i’m back on my gbfxa3 bullshit

i saw that in Moon Traveler some people are translating the setting of the play as “Moon Dwellers” and it really took /that/ for my eyes to snap open about how. holy shit. Yeah of fucking course. With Chikage being so enamored with the moon and having dreamt of being an astronaut and explore it. in the “gbfxa3 collab i want more than anything in the world” that lives rentfree in my mind, it means i absolutely need Chikage to meet Cassius. The Original “Man From the Moon, called Moon Dweller, who talks about the wonders of the moon all the time”. This is so obvious i can’t believe i didn’t think about it before.

do you see the vision.

[boygirlctommy]

ALSO i was a lawyer in a trial (it was specifically called a mock-trial, nothing about this was legal but it was important to us) and I have no fucking clue what I was supposed to be proving. There wasn’t even another lawyer it was just me out there.

[3liza]

https://nationalpost.com/news/canada/theyre-not-human-how-19th-century-inuit-coped-with-a-real-life-invasion-of-the-walking-dead

Indigenous groups across the Americas had all encountered Europeans differently. But where other coastal groups such as the Haida or the Mi’kmaq had met white men who were well-fed and well-dressed, the Inuit frequently encountered their future colonizers as small parties on the edge of death.

“I’m sure it terrified people,” said Eber, 91, speaking to the National Post by phone from her Toronto home.

And it’s why, as many as six generations after the events of the Franklin Expedition, Eber was meeting Inuit still raised on stories of the two giant ships that came to the Arctic and discharged columns of death onto the ice.

Inuit nomads had come across streams of men that “didn’t seem to be right.” Maddened by scurvy, botulism or desperation, they were raving in a language the Inuit couldn’t understand. In one case, hunters came across two Franklin Expedition survivors who had been sleeping for days in the hollowed-out corpses of seals.

“They were unrecognizable they were so dirty,” Lena Kingmiatook, a resident of Taloyoak, told Eber.

Mark Tootiak, a stepson of Nicholas Qayutinuaq, related a story to Eber of a group of Inuit who had an early encounter with a small and “hairy” group of Franklin Expedition men evacuating south.

“Later … these Inuit heard that people had seen more white people, a lot more white people, dying,” he said. “They were seen carrying human meat.”

Even Eber’s translator, the late Tommy Anguttitauruq, recounted a goose hunting trip in which he had stumbled upon a Franklin Expedition skeleton still carrying a clay pipe.

By 1850, coves and beaches around King William Island were littered with the disturbing remnants of their advance: Scraps of clothing and camps still littered with their dead occupants. Decades later, researchers would confirm the Inuit accounts of cannibalism when they found bleached human bones with their flesh hacked clean.

“I’ve never in all my life seen any kind of spirit — I’ve heard the sounds they make, but I’ve never seen them with my own eyes,” said the old man who had gone out to investigate the Franklin survivors who had straggled into his camp that day on King William Island.

The figures’ skin was cold but it was not “cold as a fish,” concluded the man. Therefore, he reasoned, they were probably alive.

“They were beings but not Inuit,” he said, according to the account by shaman Nicholas Qayutinuaq.

The figures were too weak to be dangerous, so Inuit women tried to comfort the strangers by inviting them into their igloo.

But close contact only increased their alienness: The men were timid, untalkative and — despite their obvious starvation — they refused to eat.

The men spit out pieces of cooked seal offered to them. They rejected offers of soup. They grabbed jealous hold of their belongings when the Inuit offered to trade.

When the Inuit men returned to the camp from their hunt, they constructed an igloo for the strangers, built them a fire and even outfitted the shelter with three whole seals.

Then, after the white men had gone to sleep, the Inuit quickly packed up their belongings and fled by moonlight.

Whether the pale-skinned visitors were qallunaat or “Indians” — the group determined that staying too long around these “strange people” with iron knives could get them all killed.

“That night they got all their belongings together and took off towards the southwest,” Qayutinuaq told Dorothy Eber.

But the true horror of the encounter wouldn’t be revealed until several months later.

The Inuit had left in such a hurry that they had abandoned several belongings. When a small party went back to the camp to retrieve them, they found an igloo filled with corpses.

The seals were untouched. Instead, the men had eaten each other.

[stuckinapril]

Hey everyone, this is Bisan from Gaza. I'm still alive but Hind is not. Do you remember Hind Rajab? This seven (7) years old child who was missed 12 days ago. Hind was in a car with five (5) family members and they were all killed - except Hind - by an Israeli bomb, and then she called the Ambulance, she asked them to rescue her. Two Ambulance men from the Red Crescent tried to do this but they were also missed. Now; today they were found killed. The body of Hind found killed, found murdered. It's just a new massacre added to the list of endlessly massacres committed by Israel against my people; Palestinians in Gaza right now.

No one holds Israel accountable until now. No one is doing anything. Hind was killed. Who is the next? I don't know, it might be any one of us, but I mean, it's a new, it's a new massacre - she is murdered. You all heard her story, you all heard her voice asking for help saying (Bisan speaks in Arabic first then translates to English the following) "take me with you, take me from here". She was between dead bodies for days, alone and no one could rescue her. We knew where she was, we knew that she was okay, we knew that she could contact the Red Crescent but no one rescued her.

-- Bisan on Instagram, 02.10.2024

There really is nothing left to say.

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

Stuck on the idea of vampires as a kind of reverse fae, or like someone's twisted, perverse attempt at moulding humans into fae.

They're repelled by liminal spaces.

A vampire could never enter fairyland, not just because they'd never be welcomed, but because most of the usual entry-ways are naturally barred to them.

They can't cross running water. They can't be seen in mirrors. They will wait forever at a crossroads, unable to pick a direction to go in. They can't even step over a thresh-hold unless there is absolutely no ambiguity about whether they are welcome inside.

They crave human blood, iron and salt, but are repelled by herbs and plants. They are supernaturally prevented from harming you unless the rules of hospitality have been invoked.

A fairy may replace your newborn child with something unnatural and ever-hungry. A vampire will do the same, but with your grandmother's corpse.

The fae are typically associated, even in stories where they're the bad guys, with flourishing and purity. Vampires, even in stories where they're the good guys, are typically associated with decay and corruption.

The fae turn ancient human burial mounds into fancy halls for their courts. Vampires take ancient human castles and let them grow mildewed and cobwebbed, exchanging the beds for coffins, turning them into burial places.

Fae don't tend to live among humans, but can generally pass for them with relative ease if they so choose. Vampires nearly always live among humans, but tend to find not revealing themselves a huge struggle.

I can't think of many stories I've read where fae and vampires even exist in the same universe, let alone ones where they actively interact. I feel like their enmity is almost more inevitable than that between vampires and werewolves, however.

The rivalry between vampires and werewolves is, essentially, the rivalry between two apex predator species who share a territory. (Even in stories where the werewolves aren't actually hunting humans.)

The vampires hate the werewolves because the werewolves interfere with their access to prey. The werewolves hate the vampires either because they consider themselves aligned with humans (the prey species), or because they are also predators and the vampires are competing with them.

By comparison, I think there's some story potential in the fae finding something genuinely creepy and uncanny valley about vampires.

They're immortal, like them, but also dead. They can be beautiful, like them, but that beauty is something they actively require humans to sustain. They like to inhabit beautiful and ancient ex-human dwellings, like them, but they actively work to make those places dark, damp and empty.

Fairies who are unflappable in the face of all sorts of Otherworldly monsters, can look an eldritch horror in the eye(s) without blinking, and have never been phased yet by any human, but will recoil from even the weakest vampire.

Vampires who hate fairies just as much, but in a more envious way. The way that the creature for whom immortality is a curse is bound to hate the creatures for whom immortality is an eternity of sunlight and laughter.

Maybe their touches burn each other. Maybe vampires can't stand physical contact with anything so alive and vital. Maybe immortal fairies become ill from too much exposure to the undead.

Maybe they fight over the human population when their territories overlap. The fairy need for servants and people to make deals with, competing with the vampire need for thralls and blood to drink.

Just… fairies and vampires. We need more stories about them interacting.

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

godddd the way the original e5 “you wear fine things well” scene was backlit by a giant full moon that didn’t actually exist bc this was ed and stede’s fairy tale romance, the way they’re both all dressed up in finery and looking their best after a fancy night out (which didn’t go how either of them expected but that’s not the point the point is it was an Event it was a whole Thing they went to)

and then in the e5 “wear fine things well” 2 electric boogaloo scene the moon is a waxing gibbous because it’s real and stede’s wearing what remains of his fancy suit he had to get rid of and ed’s wearing a fucking. sack and a cat collar. and holding a fucking dead fish. and they’re just catching up after both of them had a pretty normal day doing their own things. this isn’t the picture-perfect fantasy from last season this is both of them grounded in the moment taking it slow because their relationship is worth handling with care. they want this to last and they want this to be real so they’re taking their time, being gentle. they’re not as completely absorbed by each other the way they were last season, they’re their own separate people who can exist in different plotlines for an episode and then come back at the end of the day and catch up, swap stories, kiss and hold hands and just hang out and enjoy being in each other’s presence.

now if you’ll excuse me. i have to go cry.

[writingwithcolor]

Naming International POC Characters: Do Your Research.

This post is part of a double feature for the same ask. First check out Mod Colette's answer to OP's original question at: A Careful Balance: Portraying a Black Character's Relationship with their Hair. Below are notes on character naming from Mod Rina.

~ ~ ~

@writingraccoon said:

My character is black in a dungeons and dragons-like fantasy world. His name is Kazuki Haile (pronounced hay-lee), and his mother is this world's equivalent of Japanese, which is where his first name is from, while his father is this world's equivalent of Ethiopian, which is where his last name is from. He looks much more like his father, and has hair type 4a. [...]

Hold on a sec.

Haile (pronounced hay-lee), [...] [H]is father is this world’s equivalent of Ethiopian, which is where his last name is from. 

OP, where did you get this name? Behindthename.com, perhaps?

Note how it says, “Submitted names are contributed by users of this website. Check marks indicate the level to which a name has been verified.” Do you see any check marks, OP? 

What language is this, by the way? If we only count official languages, Ethiopia has 5: Afar, Amharic, Oromo, Somali, & Tigrinya. If we count everything native to that region? Over 90 languages. And I haven't even mentioned the dormant/extinct ones. Do you know which language this name comes from? Have you determined Kazuki’s father’s ethnic group, religion, and language(s)? Do you know just how ethnically diverse Ethiopia is? 

~ ~ ~

To All Looking for Character Names on the Internet:

Skip the name aggregators and baby name lists. They often do not cite their sources, even if they’re pulling from credible ones, and often copy each other. 

If you still wish to use a name website, find a second source that isn’t a name website. 

Find at least one real life individual, living or dead, who has this given name or surname. Try Wikipedia’s lists of notable individuals under "List of [ethnicity] people." You can even try searching Facebook! Pay attention to when these people were born for chronological accuracy/believability. 

Make sure you know the language the name comes from, and the ethnicity/culture/religion it’s associated with. 

Make sure you understand the naming practices of that culture—how many names, where they come from, name order, and other conventions. 

Make sure you have the correct pronunciation of the name. Don’t always trust Wikipedia or American pronunciation guides on Youtube. Try to find a native speaker or language lesson source, or review the phonology & orthography and parse out the string one phoneme at a time. 

Suggestions for web sources:

Wikipedia! Look for: “List of [language] [masculine/feminine] given names,” “List of most common [language] family names,” “List of most common surnames in [continent],” and "List of [ethnicity] people."  

Census data! Harder to find due to language barriers & what governments make public, but these can really nail period accuracy. This may sound obvious, but look at the year of the character's birth, not the year your story takes place. 

Forums and Reddit. No really. Multicultural couples and expats will often ask around for what to name their children. There’s also r/namenerds, where so many folks have shared names in their language that they now have “International Name Threads.” These are all great first-hand sources for name connotations—what’s trendy vs. old-fashioned, preppy vs. nerdy, or classic vs. overused vs. obscure. 

~ ~ ~

Luckily for OP, I got very curious and did some research. More on Ethiopian & Eritrean naming, plus mixed/intercultural naming and my recommendations for this character, under the cut. It's really interesting, I promise!

Ethiopian and Eritrean Naming Practices

Haile (IPA: /həjlə/ roughly “hy-luh.” Both a & e are /ə/, a central “uh” sound) is a phrase meaning “power of” in Ge’ez, sometimes known as Classical Ethiopic, which is an extinct/dormant Semitic language that is now used as a liturgical language in Ethiopian churches (think of how Latin & Sanskrit are used today). So it's a religious name, and was likely popularized by the regnal name of the last emperor of Ethiopia, Haile Selassie (“Power of the Trinity”). Ironically, for these reasons it is about as nationalistically “Ethiopian” as a name can get.

Haile is one of the most common “surnames” ever in Ethiopia and Eritrea. Why was that in quotes? Because Ethiopians and Eritreans don’t have surnames. Historically, when they needed to distinguish themselves from others with the same given name, they affixed their father’s given name, and then sometimes their grandfather’s. In modern Ethiopia and Eritrea, their given name is followed by a parent’s (usually father’s) name. First-generation diaspora abroad may solidify this name into a legal “surname” which is then consistently passed down to subsequent generations.

Intercultural Marriages and Naming

This means that Kazuki’s parents will have to figure out if there will be a “surname” going forward, and who it applies to. Your easiest and most likely option is that Kazuki’s dad would have chosen to make his second name (Kazuki’s grandpa’s name) the legal “surname.” The mom would have taken this name upon marriage, and Kazuki would inherit it also. Either moving abroad or the circumstances of the intercultural marriage would have motivated this. Thus “Haile” would be grandpa’s name, and Kazuki wouldn’t be taking his “surname” from his dad. This prevents the mom & Kazuki from having different “surnames.” But you will have to understand and explain where the names came from and the decisions dad made to get there. Otherwise, this will ring culturally hollow and indicate a lack of research.

Typically intercultural parents try to

come up with a first name that is pronounceable in both languages,

go with a name that is the dominant language of where they live, or

compromise and pick one parent’s language, depending on the circumstances.

Option 1 and possibly 3 requires figuring out which language is the father’s first language. Unfortunately, because of the aforementioned national ubiquity of Haile, you will have to start from scratch here and figure out his ethnic group, religion (most are Ethiopian Orthodox and some Sunni Muslim), and language(s). 

But then again, writing these characters knowledgeably and respectfully also requires figuring out that information anyway.

~ ~ ~

Names and naming practices are so, so diverse. Do research into the culture and language before picking a name, and never go with only one source.

~ Mod Rina