#they both wind up dead when they hate each other so yeah

[coffinsister]

Whats your opinion on Coffincest where their mom gets involved, or she tries pulling a "if you let me go you can fuck me"? I personally think Andrew would have actually died of horror if his mom had attempted that, and Ashley would have liked the idea of getting to push her mom around only to get jealous

Okay being honest anybody who knows me knows I'm not fond of that dynamic. Leaving besides the fact that I really dislike their mom because she lowkey reminds me of my mom and how she treats me and my older sibling I just don't think it's actually in-character at all lol

I guess I can see her offering that if maybe her husband hadn't been around (Interesting that he is pretty much the only thing she seems to care about, she does get pretty upset when you choose to cut him for the blood. She still cucks him either way tho lol deserved.)

But I really don't think so, I mean she's supposed to be less messed up than her kids even at a soul level (Her growl and stare is also way softer than Ashley's) and she just calls them gross and wants to separate them, while symultaneously not caring enough about either of them to actually do anything, or even stop mistreating them.

I really don't think Andrew wants to fuck his mom, like point blank.

Just can't see it.

He's way too horrified and also he hates her guts.

And Ashley hates her, but her manner of estabilishing control or asserting dominance isn't really sexual. She's more physical with Andrew when she's happy not when she's angry, unless she's hitting him.

So while I think Ashley would be very elated to see her mom being reduced and disminished like that, what she actually wants it's for their mom to resent and regret Andrew as much as she regrets and resents her.

So the suggestion of fucking her brother would not be taken kindly by Ashley I think she would just launch at stabbing her immediately while berating her verbally.

Andrew would not try to stop her.

[spinningwebsandtales]

DMC5 Guys Accidentally Kissing Reader HCs

Requested by @danielle-marie​

(A/N:) Thank you for the request! I love doing these headcanons for my readers. They’re really fun to write and are some of my most popular! Buckle in for some fluff everyone cause this is gonna be fun! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Dante X FemReader

Dante always teases you, acting like he’s going to kiss you.

You push him away thinking he’s mostly just joking, which he’s actually just trying to hide his actual feelings under his goofy persona.

So you actually never know what he is thinking or feeling cause he always hides everything under corny jokes or a grin.

Dante hides the fact well that the feelings he has for you runs deeper than even he can imagine.

Then the day came that day that he could no longer hide his feelings.

It had been a normal day when the job came in from Morrison. Dante wanted you to stay but you refused.

Dante knew it was going to be a difficult mission but you stayed in and handled it as you normally do.

His adrenaline was pumping at the end of the fight and he wasn’t thinking straight when he wrapped around your waist.

You gasped at the sudden touch before you were tugged into his side and Dante’s lips were on yours.

You stiffened looking at him with wide eyes before Dante regained his bearings.

He released you quickly as you stumbled backwards.

He sheepishly looked down, not knowing how to explain that it had been an accident when you said his name.

He looked up, surprised to see you so close.

“Is that how you feel?”

“Yeah.”

You kissed him gently back.

Vergil X FemReader

Vergil always seems to keep you at arms length so you honestly can’t tell if he likes you or just tolerates you.

Every time you get a little too close he puts distance between you both.

It hurts your feelings but you keep the hurt hidden as it would just push him away more.

He throws himself headfirst into whatever he’s doing, especially when it comes to battle.

Demons have no chance when Vergil is before them with Yamato.

You are rarely able to help when it comes to battles.

One day that changed when the hoard you and him came across was proving too much for even Vergil.

He’s too busy trying to keep himself alive that he has no time to check on you.

When he dispatches the last one he turns to find you, only to see you gone.

Despite his cool attitude towards you he cares deeply. So deeply it scares him.

He just doesn’t know how to express himself very well and it comes off as distant and harsh.

But when he finds you laying on the ground, surrounded by demon corpses and your body in a pool of blood. His blood freezes.

He rushes to your side knowing that he just lost one of the people he truly cares about.

Overwhelmed by his emotions and not used to feeling such things he kisses you as he’s scared he’s lost you.

You stir causing Vergil to stiffen and release you.

“Did you just kiss me?”

“I thought you were dead. It was an accident I didn’t know what to do.”

“Well at least that confirms that you don’t hate me.”

I could never hate you.”

Nero X FemReader

Nero and you have a very special relationship as you both like each other but have a hard time expressing how you both feel.

You both think so much alike you butt heads quite often which leads to arguments.

They aren’t arguments where you come to blows but just over stupid things.

Like if Nero leaves the toilet seat up or you left the milk out on the counter.

You both feel stupid afterwards and wind up making up a little later and becoming close once again.

But Nero has been noticing that his feelings for you are changing more and more each day.

He can’t imagine his life without you and it scares him that one of these arguments would have you storming out of his door and life forever.

Today was one of those times he was the most fearful as you were shouting at him with no end in sight.

He couldn’t remember the reason the argument started but here you were shouting and pointing your finger in his face.

He steps back trying to apologize but he can’t even get one word in as you are on a roll.

At a loss on what to do Nero sudden grabs you, pulling you in, and kissing you quickly.

Cutting off your argument you stand there speechless.

“Did you just kiss me?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know what to do and it just happened.”

“What were we arguing about?”

“I don’t remember.”

V X FemReader

V is a quiet man and more often than not he keeps his feelings to himself.

So you really don’t know what he’s thinking majority of the time and he’s good at keeping things hidden.

If his attention isn’t on you, it’s on his ever present book of poems.

You were beginning to think that he loved his book more than you.

It made you huffy if he didn’t pay attention to you in a certain amount of time but you didn’t voice your annoyance.

The reason V would retreat into his book is that he didn’t know how to react to the feelings that swirled inside when you were near.

One night you were making tea for the both of you, enjoying a cozy evening inside.

The radio playing softly in the background while V read from the book out loud.

His voice filling the house with deep rich tones that flowed from his tongue.

You found yourself enraptured as you placed the tea cup on the table at his side.

You leaned closer and closer, hanging onto every sentence until you were as close as possible. 

V paused midsentence to grab his teacup but when he turned, your close proximity was a surprise and he found his lips upon yours.

You stiffened and he quickly moved away, not wanting to insult you or think that was his intentions the whole time.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had gotten so close to me.”

“That’s okay I should have just left your tea and went to sit down. I couldn’t help it as I really liked that one.”

“Would you like me to read it again?”

“Yes please.”

He patted the cushion by his side and you took the offer.

When you sat back down your teacup cupped in trembling hands.

V leaned over kissing your cheek before going back to reading to you.

[lincolndjarin]

A Little Mishap.

main masterlist ✧ kinktober masterlist ✦

kinktober : day five - afab!reader x dark!francisco morales

prompt : hate sex [ 18+ mdni ]

word count : 1.4k (sorry all of these are so short, there's so many i've been struggling to make them longer)

summary : READ ALL WARNINGS. THIS IS MY FIRST DARK FIC. you and frankie return to base camp after an unsuccessful mission, each of you blaming the other for the outcome.

warnings, etc. : dead dove do not eat, dubcon/noncon, dark!frankie, unprotected p in v, spanking, use of restraints, panty gag, painful sex, degradation, orgasm denial, creampie, ambiguous ending, probably other things lmk if i forgot any tags

a/n : a lot of my october stuff is gonna be barely edited so my apologies for that but this is my first time writing frankie but also my first time writing any sort of dark fic and i'm definitely feeling anxious about posting this but here it is uhhhh yeah. i've been finishing all of these before work this week and having this tiny little time crunch before doing a ten hour shift really wakes me the fuck up lmao.

He shoves you into the tent, both of you fuming at this point. Neither one of you speaks as you take a seat on your cot, putting your head in your hands. After a moment you can see his boots appear in front of you. 

“I can’t fuckin’ believe you.” He growls and you feel your jaw tense as you look up at him. 

“You can’t believe me?” You say incredulously. “If it weren’t for me we’d have nothing.” 

“If it weren’t for you we might have everything.” He hisses, planting a hand firmly on your shoulder as he shoves you back into the wall, you sit up quickly, kicking his knee in retaliation, watching as he slumps to the floor. 

“I did exactly what Santi would have wanted me to do in that situation.” You usually don’t physical when you two fight, (which is happening more and more often these days) but today you’re fed up with him, you’d been on that mission with just him for over a week when he’d fucked up. You could have lost everything if you’d listened to him, at least now you had half the haul. 

“La puta…” He grumbles, grabbing you by your ankles as you lean back to kick him again. “Os voy a dar una lección.” He mumbles, twisting your legs until you stop resisting. You swallow a squeak that threatens to bubble up from the pain, you’re about to swing on him when he pushes you back down, his hands swiftly yank your pants down making you freeze in shock. He doesn’t give you a chance to protest as he drags you off the cot, knocking the wind out of you as you hit the tent floor.

“Asshole!” You yelp as he pins you down with his knees, taking both your wrists in one large hand as you squirm beneath him, trying to flip him off you.

“Fucking- quit it.” He delivers a sharp slap to your jaw promptly halting your struggle as you scowl at him. You’re about to hurl another insult at him when you hear the familiar sound of his switchblade flipping open. “Don’t move.” He mumbles as you feel the cold steel against your hip and in an instant you hear a slicing, followed by the same on the other side, you squeeze your thighs together instinctively as he pulls your panties off with ease now that the sides are torn.

“Frankie!” You shriek and he takes the opportunity to shove the bunched up fabric between your teeth.

“‘Talk too damn much.” You try to kick him again as he tugs your pants the rest of the way down, bringing them up as he haphazardly flips you onto your stomach, binding your hands behind your back with one of your pant legs. You’re about to spit your panties out when you feel the steel on your throat. “You keep that smart mouth of yours stuffed or I’ll find another way to shut you up.” His blade digs into your flesh as a silent warning and you don’t dare. He gives you a minute to decide what you want to do and you choose to just stay still, trying desperately to steady your breathing. 

He digs his knee into your lower back one more time, eliciting a pained groan from you before slotting himself between your thighs. You’re dizzy from everything happening so fast and he doesn’t give you much of a chance to process any of it as he takes hold of your makeshift cuffs, dragging you upright as you kneel, his free hand wrapping around your waist to cup your mound. 

“You know how often I think about this?” He rests his temple on yours as his chin sits on your shoulder, his body heat suffocates you. 

How many times had you reluctantly thought about the same thing? Rolling to face away from him in your shared tent and shoving your hand between your legs, imagining what it would be like when he finally got sick of your shit and bent you over. You’re snapped out of your thoughts as he dips two fingers between your folds with a satisfied sigh. He slides his digits back and forth, scooping up your abundant wetness with a throaty chuckle.  

“You get off on bein’ a brat?” He dangles his fingers in front of your face before rubbing your slick onto your parted lips, forcing you to taste your own arousal. “Then I’ll treat you like a brat.” He tangles his fingers in your hair, yanking your head up as you feel him grind the front of his pants against your ass. “Fuckin’ soaking me.” He bends you over, forcing your ass up and pushing your face into the floor. He keeps one hand locked around your wrist as the other shoves his own pants down. You whine into the makeshift gag. “Maybe I’ll just fuck some obedience into you.” 

You let out a squeak as he slaps your rear. He lets his palm rest there, before roughly spreading your cheeks. You hear him spit, followed by the sensation of it dripping down your seam, you can feel him lining himself up at your entrance, all of his actions are rushed and you just can’t keep up, your body doesn’t even have time to make an attempt at defending yourself as he rams himself into you without warning. A muffled squeal falls from your lips as he beings to fuck you mercilessly, giving you no time to adjust to the sheer size of him. 

With your face pressed into the floor you can’t see him but you can certainly feel just how thick he is. The underlying pleasure does nothing to soothe the feeling of being split open by him. 

“Jesus-” He grunts out, your pussy gushing around him only spurs him on, his movements somehow becoming harsher as he bumps against your g-spot with ever slam of his hips, the combines overstimulation and pain makes your eyes water, a few tears slipping past your lash line. “Dunno how I’m gonna last in such a tight cunt.” He slaps your ass again, hard enough that you’re pretty sure you’ll have a mark, drawing a sob from you. “Fuckin’ choking my cock when I do that.” 

He spanks you again, a loud crack rings throughout the tent as your cunt involuntarily clamps down on him, his hips stuttering forward. 

“You fucking love this, don’t you?” His voice is low and dangerous as the rough denim of his jeans scratches at your thighs. “Is that why you keep squeezin’ me?” You don’t realize he expects a response until he smacks you again. “You love this?” You nod fervently, mumbling something similar to a yes into your panties. “You wanna finish on my cock?” Much to your own dismay you nod once more.

You don’t know how, but against all odds you really are close. The coil tightening in your stomach threatens to consume you as you try desperately to force yourself over that edge to no avail.

“That’s too bad, only good girls get to come.” He growls, readjusting himself so one hand is tangled in your hair and the other is gripping your wrists, keeping you hovering above the tent floor rather uncomfortably, your lurch forward with every one of his brutal thrusts. You groan something that sounds like his name but you know it’s useless to try and reason with him. With a few more long drawn out thrusts you feel him burst within you, his grip on your hair tightens and you shriek as his release begins dripping from your swollen cunt as he slips out of you.

Your tears are drying on your face and you slump forward once his hands release you. Your body continues to buzz with frustration, a small part of you is genuinely upset at your lack of an orgasm. You can hear the rest of your mission party returning as Frankie leans forward and presses a kiss between your shoulder blades, a sharp contrast to everything he just did to you. You can hear the zipper on his pants as he pulls himself together, leaving you wrecked on the floor. 

“Why don’t we see how Pope feels about your little mishap?” He whispers before you turn your head just in time to watch him lean out of the tent, calling Santiago over.

a/n : i would love any sort of feedback on this?? i've never written anything like this before so i'm a little nervous.

[mrsjellymunson]

💿 Play Me 💿

Written for the @steddiemicrofic January prompt, ‘hole’ (thank you for this glorious gift).

Rating: T || WC: 404 || CW: Suggestive language, mentions of drug use (weed), a deceased insect (idk there may be sensitive entomologists on here 🫣) || Tags: 90s AU, meet cute, getting together, strangers to friends to more? || A/N: This is silly, cheesy, sickly fluff. I make no apologies and you can’t say I didn’t warn you.

“Hey man, watch out!”

Too late, Steve spots that the guy Dustin is barrelling towards on his loaned skateboard is wearing headphones, pads hidden amongst wild curls.

Rushing towards the record store doorway and helping him up, he mumbles, “Sorry dude, we probably shouldn't be teaching him in a populated area. I’ll buy you a new copy.”

Checking his purchase, the stranger replies, “Don’t sweat it, it’s only the case that’s cracked. The music inside is fine, that’s the important thing.”

The broad smile he gifts Steve nearly winds him.

“Y-yeah? That’s really decent of you, thanks.”

The stranger turns to walk off, and Steve realises he doesn’t want him to go. Thinking quickly, he blurts, “Watcha listening to?”

Appraising Steve, the stranger replies,

“Uh, something you probably wouldn’t like.”

Steve counters, “Sounds like a challenge. Try me.”

Two hours later and Eddie’s in Steve’s bedroom, both of them pleasantly high, a mix of their CDs strewn across Steve’s bed.

They’re surprising each other - Steve’s nodding along to Deep Purple and appreciating (some of) Metallica’s guitarwork, and Eddie’s not hating (all of) Steve’s collection, Queen and The Rolling Stones being unexpected inclusions.

No longer trying to appear cool, they start picking discs at random.

“Who’s this again?”

“Rainbow.”

“Thought so. Check it out!”

Afternoon sunlight glances through one of Steve’s crystal sports trophies, casting rainbows along one wall.

Catching them on his fingertips, Steve giggles, his high apparent. “We’re playing Rainbow, and there’s rainbows in the room! Let’s see if we can do it again.”

Randomly, Eddie picks a Scorpions CD. A fail, but they both chuckle and agree that’s probably a good thing…

Steve shoves his hand into the pile and chooses Led Zeppelin. Furrowing his brows and wincing, he picks up a pencil. “Does this kind of lead count?”

Next up, W.A.S.P.. Steve finds a dead fly on his windowsill, muttering, “Close enough”, and throwing it outside with a quiet ugh.

Steve insists, “Okay, you’re definitely touching the next one. I’m having all the fun, and frankly disgusting, experiences over here.”

Eddie responds, “Okay, man, whatever you say”, but when Steve picks the next CD he shifts uncomfortably, unable to meet the other boy’s gaze.

“Uhh, I think we should stop playing now.”

Steve smirks, repeating his words from earlier. “Sounds like a challenge. Try me.”

Eddie's ears turn pink as he looks away. Quietly, he replies,

“It’s, umm, it’s Hole…”

Thanks so much for reading!

[cosmicjoke]

Winter

Winters in the Underground are bleak.

It’s the drafts, Furlan knows, coming in through the holes in the caverns roof, the ice melt which sinks down through the sewer grates, and flurries of fat, freezing flakes of snow. There is no sun to melt it as it carries on the strange currents of wind which suck down like a vortex into the open space, blowing endlessly through the dark tunnels of their world.

Isabel hates it. Complains constantly about how cold it is, shivering and shaking as she tries in vain to warm herself by their pitiful firepit.

Levi bears it like he bears everything. In silence, grim faced and unreadable.

Though, sometimes, Furlan catches the tremble in his small hands.

This year is worse than usual.

There’s a famine up above, apparently. No rain during this last spring resulting in fields of dead crops.

It’s well hard enough getting food down here, even when things up top are thriving.

But people struggling for food on the surface meant people starving to death in the Underground.

It’s been hard for everyone, even the three of them, who usually did a descent enough job staying afloat, thanks, mainly, to Levi.

But these last, few weeks, they’ve had to take to scrounging through the gutters in hopes of finding some tossed out and molding piece of bread, or wilting, days old vegetables, just to get by.

There’s no food. The merchants from the surface willing to come here, few and far between as they are, have all packed up their stalls and left, and whoever’s left has nothing to sell at all, stands left bare and empty, their owners gone and out of sight.

Levi had managed to hit one of the fleeing merchants about a month back now and steal a sizable sack of dried goods from him, and they’d been living off that ever since. But, between the three of them, even with Levi skipping meals and leaving the bulk to Furlan and Isabel, much to their dismay and protests, they’d finally bled the haul dry, and now they had nothing.

Each new day was weighted with uncertainty, then, as to whether they would eat or not.

They all knew what starvation felt like. They’d all been through it.

That didn’t make bearing it any easier.

It didn’t make the pain, or the fear, go away.

And the cold was only making things so much worse.

It was fucking freezing, even holed up in their little space as they were, clinging to each other for what little warmth they could share. Levi has his arms around both of them, drawing them against his sides as they hunch with their heads together in front of their meager fire, and Furlan can feel Levi shaking just as violently as he and Isabel.

Through the thin material of Levi’s shirt, Furlan can feel his ribs and the ridges of his spine. He’s lost a lot of weight, from skipping so many meals these last weeks.

“… I’m gonna’ die, ain’t I?” Isabel’s voice breaks the pressing silence, dried and cracked and barely more than a whisper.

Furlan feels Levi stiffen.

“Don’t be talkin’ like that.” He scolds her, his own voice barely seeming stronger. “You ain’t gonna’ die.”

“… B-but I’m so hungry, B-Big Bro, and… and I’m cold. Oh, God…”

“I know. But ya ain’t gonna’ die, Izzy. I wouldn’t let that happen. Alright? You trust me, don’t ‘cha?”

“Y-yeah Big Bro. Yeah…”

Levi’s arms squeeze tighter around them, and the room goes silent again, but for the pops and crackles of the fire.

Furlan squeezes his eyes tight and bites the inside of his cheek ‘till he tastes blood.

He knows Levi means it. He means it when he says he isn’t gonna’ let them die. Knows Levi would give his last damned breath to keep both him and Isabel going. But… strong as Levi is, it doesn’t amount to much when there just isn’t any food to be had.

Shit… they might have to resort to trying to catch rats soon, if things don’t improve.

Furlan doesn’t think Levi would eat a rat. He doesn’t think Levi could bear it, twitchy as he is about disease and filth and the like.

Something to do with his mother, Furlan thinks, who Levi told him died from disease when he’d been a child. He hadn’t said more than that; Levi rarely spoke about himself at all. But Furlan can guess at the ugliness of the thing.

“… I’ll go out and look for somethin’ to eat. You two stay here.” Levi says after a while, and he starts to stand.

Furlan is slow to react, his energy sapped almost to nothing, and it takes too long for Levi’s words to process. By the time they do, Levi is already wrapping his cloak around his shoulders.

“Levi, wait…” he starts to protest, beginning to stand. “you can’t go out there now. It’s too cold. You’ll…”

“Stay here Furlan. You and Izzy keep holdin’ each other, try to stay warm. I’ll be back soon as I can.”

“Levi, please, you could die out there…”

Levi just shakes his head, starting for the door.

“I’ll be alright. I’m strong Furlan. You know that.”

“Y-yeah, but…”

“I’ll be fine. Stay with Izzy. Don’t leave. Don’t come after me neither. Alright? I’ll be back, soon as I can.”

Before Furlan can lodge any more protests, Levi is gone, the shabby wooden door creaking shut behind him, and Furlan feels what’s left of his energy drain outta him as he sinks back to the floor. Isabel throws her arms around him, burying her face against his shoulder.

“H-he’ll be alright, won’t he Furlan? Big Bro’s the strongest, s-so he’ll be alright. Yeah?”

Furlan puts his arm around her, laying his cheek to the crown of her head and holding her tight against his side.

“… Yeah.” He promises, and wishes he felt as confident as he forces himself to sound. “He’ll be alright.”

//

Levi doesn’t come back ‘till almost four hours have gone by. Isabel had fallen asleep, somehow, and Furlan had been grateful for it, because he’d been starting to grow sick with worry, more and more convinced with each second that past that something horrible had happened to Levi.

He didn’t know what they would do if something happened to Levi.

He didn’t know how they would survive.

But then Levi walks in through the door, carrying a heavy looking sack over his shoulder.

Furlan stands immediately from where he’s still sat by the dwindling fire, stumbling forward a step, before coming to a halt partway, eyes wide.

Levi’s got blood on his face, a thick smear of it coated across his brow, over his eyes, running from what Furlan can see is a large gash, just a little above his left temple. Gaze dropping to his hands, and Furlan sees Levi’s cut up and already swelling knuckles.

He’s been in a fight, then. A bad one, from the looks of it.

Furlan can’t help the words which spring unbidden to his tongue, a tight, sick knot in his gut.

“What happened?”

Levi looks dolefully back at him, silent.

It wasn’t that Furlan was surprised.

Levi was rough stock. He came from some kind of hardship extreme even from down in this place, and for a long time, violence was his only friend. The only thing he could depend on to make it from day to day. Furlan knows that. He knows. Even though Levi rarely spoke about his life before he met him, or Isabel. You could hardly miss the scars littering the kid’s hands, or all over his body. Knife fights, long, gnarled ropes of raised, white skin, some clean and straight, some jagged and twisted, like whoever’d done the cutting meant to make it ugly as possible. There were starburst shaped patterns of raw, too smooth skin on his chest, parallel in place on his back, and Furlan knew those to be entry and exit wounds from bullets.

Yeah, Levi was rough stock, and he’d made his way before mostly through fighting.

That was the thing down here, in this place. Predators picked off the weakest looking prey, and Levi was small. Just a tiny kid. The top of his head barely reached to Furlan’s chin. Hell, Furlan knows, when he’d first seen Levi, he’d thought like everyone else. Short, scrawny looking kid, should be an easy mark, even though, by then, there’d started to be talk of a scrappy little midget who could take down men twice, three times his size, even. And like everyone else, Furlan had wanted to see if the rumors were true.

Well… Levi was rough stock. He was fucking terrifying. Stronger than any man Furlan had ever seen. He’d felt it, one time. How strong Levi really was. One time, when a guy from a rival gang had come charging at Furlan, ready to sink his knife into his back, and Levi had caught Furlan by the arm and jerked him outta the way before it could happen. In his panic, Levi’d grabbed him hard, harder than he’d meant to, Furlan knows, and the power in his hands, in his grip, had stolen the breath right outta his lungs. He could break bones with his bare hands. Furlan knew it then sure as he knows his own name. And then that’s what he did. He took hold of the man who’d tried to put a knife in Furlan’s back, and he’s crushed his hand. Mangled it, ‘till he couldn’t hold a knife, or any other kind of weapon, ever again.

You didn’t fuck with Levi.

That’s what kept Furlan and Isabel safe. Because everyone knew. You try anything with them, and it was Levi you’d bring down on your own head. And you didn’t fuck with Levi.

Unless you were the MP’s. They fucked with Levi all the time, ‘cause they fucked with everyone, down here, and ‘cause they knew Levi wasn’t fool enough to kill no government workers. That’d draw attention. That’d get people from up above involved. And Levi was always telling him and Isabel, it was best not to get people from up above involved, ‘cause they had money, and money gave ‘em power, and they could take everything from them. Levi was always saying. They could take everything.

Furlan’s eyes catch on the sack over Levi’s shoulder. It’s one of those stitched potato sacks, starched white, and printed out in bold, black letters across the front, are the words “Government Property”.

Well, shit…

“Levi… what happened?” Furlan asks again.

Levi slides the sack down, lying it gentle onto the floor.

He doesn’t say anything as he kneels down on one knee, starts undoing the tie round the bags end.

“Levi… did you kill military police?” And even as the words leave him, Furlan feels a dizzying horror in his head, threatening to black out his vision. If Levi killed police, then…

“… I didn’t kill ‘em. Just roughed a couple up. They ain’t dead. Just socked ‘em, some.”

“Levi…”

“They did me first. I… I tried talkin’ to ‘em Furlan. You know how I ain’t good with no words. But I tried talkin’. I told ‘em I could do stuff for ‘em, if they was willin’ to spare some ‘a their food. They got… all this food, Furlan. More ‘an they need. It ain’t fair. It ain’t right, down here, what you got people starvin’ to death, droppin’ dead in the streets from starvin’, and cold. I told ‘em Fur… I said…”

“Levi, alright. It’s alright.” Furlan says, keeping his voice even and level.

Levi got like this, sometimes. He got emotional, like this. He kept himself so even keeled most of the time. Was most of the time so reserved. He only got worked up like this when he was real upset about something.

Levi sniffs, wipes the back of his hand against his nose, and keeps working at the bags tie. He gets it open after a minute, and starts pulling what Furlan can see are dried goods, mostly. Crackers, standard military rations, some cans of beans. Stuff like that.

Levi’s hands are shaking.

“… What did you tell ‘em you could do for them, Levi?” Furlan asks, even though he doesn’t want to.

Again, Levi says nothing, just keeps pulling the goods from the bag.

There’s a lot.

Enough to last ‘em several weeks, Furlan thinks.

Their lives are saved.

“Levi, you didn’t…”

“I said, ‘cause, like… you know.” Levi cuts him off. “I said I could do ‘em some jobs. If they needed anything, like… like, I could steal stuff for ‘em, or what. You know how good I am at that stuff Furlan. You know, ‘cause I’m small. I can sneak into any place. You know it, right?”

Furlan nods.

“Sure do, Levi.”

“Well, but then they got to laughin’ at me. And one of ‘em says, he says, what I could do for him is suck his dick, ‘cause I’m… ‘cause he says, I’m the perfect height for it. And they were laughin’ at me Furlan. And I got mad. So I beat ‘em up, and took a bag. They got dozens ‘a bags, Furlan. They won’t miss just the one.”

“… Okay.”

“They were laughin’ at me Furlan. They… they used to laugh at Mama like that. I remember. They used to laugh at her just like that. I got mad.”

“Okay.” Furlan feels his heart sink.

“But I didn’t kill ‘em. I just socked ‘em good.”

“… What happened to your head?” Furlan tries, and Levi blinks at him.

Furlan points to his own head, near his temple, and he sees understanding come into Levi’s eyes.

“… Yeah. I socked the one who said about my height, and the other one came in and hit me with his billy. Caught me good too. I almost went down.”

“God, Levi…”

Levi shakes his head.

“But I kept my feet. Kenny says to me, you gotta’ keep your feet, no matter. No matter what they hit you with. So I kept my feet, and I socked him too. I just knocked ‘em cold Furlan. I didn’t kill ‘em, so you don’t gotta’ worry none about that. Don’t worry none. Only, maybe we’ll have to move soon, in case anyone comes sniffin’ around. Them MP’s don’t like to be stolen from. You ask me, they’re the ones stealin’. There’s people starvin’ to death in the street, Furlan. There’s little babies dead out there in the cold.”

“I know, Levi.”

Levi looks at him, and his eyes are, for a moment, so damned hurt, that Furlan has to look away.

Fuck…

“Well, I gives some ‘a what I stole to some poor lady, ‘cause she had a baby, Furlan. I lied, before. I’m sorry. I took more than one bag. I… I took a couple. And I gives one to some poor lady. Don’t be mad, Fur. We gotta’ eat. You know that. We gotta’ eat.”

“I ain’t mad Levi. God, I ain’t mad at ya.”

And he isn’t. He can’t be.

Fuck, Levi just had too much feeling in his heart, and Furlan couldn’t ever be mad at him for that.

It got sometimes so he could hardly stand to look though, for all the hurt Levi had in him. All the hurt he had for everyone else.

People didn’t know, ‘cause Levi was rough stock, and he grew up learning to keep it all in, pressed down so nobody could use it against him. He kept it all in, usually. But when he got like this, there it was, plain as anything, all that feeling and hurt he carried around inside him for everyone else, and sometimes Furlan could hardly stand to look.

He couldn’t imagine what that felt like, to be carrying around all that hurt, keeping it all inside like that.

“… Yeah? Well, alright then.” Levi says and starts up emptying the sack again.

“Say, Levi, that can wait ‘till later. I should clean up that gash you got on your temple. Okay? Fix up your hands too.”

Levi keeps unpacking the canned goods for a moment, before he stops, rubbing at his nose again.

“… Okay.” He finally agrees, and Furlan feels an almost dizzying relief.

He has Levi sit down along the bench in what they’ve designated the living area of their small hovel, and tells him he’ll be right back, going to fetch a bowl of water and some clean rags.

They’d filled a couple wooden buckets with water a few days ago, when the ice stopping up the well a little ways from their place had final broken enough apart, but they were gonna’ have to get more soon. Assuming the well hadn’t frozen over again. It probably had. Furlan tries not to think about it. Getting drinkable water down here was almost as hard as getting food, now.

He sees Levi’s removed his cloak, finally, as he makes his way back towards him, and he’s got his arms crossed against his chest, his hands stuck in the pits of his arms. He’s shivering, and Furlan knows he must be freezing, though Levi won’t ever complain about it.

Furlan knows better than to make a fuss about it either. Levi never liked anybody fussing over him.

Instead, Furlan just takes a seat across from him and sets to work, cleaning his wounds.

The gash along his temple is pretty bad. Might even need stitches, Furlan thinks, frowning to himself. He tells Levi as much, and Levi huffs, but doesn’t otherwise protest as Furlan gets up to set the bowl of water to boiling over the fire and fetch a needle to sterilize. He needs to add some kindling to the fire to make it hot enough, and Isabel tosses and turns in her sleep, mumbling incoherently to herself, dreaming.

“She alright?” Levi asks as Furlan comes back.

Furlan shrugs.

“Sure. Good as she can be, I suppose. She’ll be happy to see you’ve got us food.”

“… Yeah.” Levi says, and goes quiet again.

Furlan doesn’t say much as he sets to cleaning and stitching Levi’s wound, good as he can, and Levi doesn’t complain, sitting stiff and still, mouth pulled tight at the corners.

“Hands.” Furlan orders after, and Levi dutifully holds them out for him.

There’s scar tissue all over Levi’s knuckles, the skin split and bleeding now. It must hurt, but Levi gives no indication of it as Furlan works, trying to be gentle as he can.

“Alright.” Furlan says when he finishes, letting Levi’s hands go.

“Thanks, Fur.”

Furlan smiles tightly back.

“No problem.”

Furlan packs the materials away, leaving the used rags in the bowl of water to soak for a bit. He’ll have to clean them later, or Levi will get upset.

Levi busies himself by storing away the food items he’d nabbed, and there’s a heavy, comfortable silence which falls over the place.

Furlan wants to ask Levi if he really thinks they’ll have to move again soon, but he knows Levi will let him and Isabel know if they do. If he’s anything, he’s cautious, and keeps his eyes open and ear to the ground. He’ll know if their spot’s been compromised.

Furlan rummages around in their pile of wood bits they’ve been collecting for kindling, throwing a few more pieces on the fire, stocking it and building the flames back up.

“Levi, you should rest.” He calls to the smaller man after a while, watching Levi move restlessly about the space. He’s got his duster out, aimlessly waving it at different surfaces. Even from half the room away, his face looks gaunt, pale and too thin. The circles under his eyes are like dark bruises. He must be exhausted.

Levi stops, but he doesn’t turn to face Furlan, just stands there, staring at the ground.

“Come on, Levi. You can lay by the fire, try to warm up a little. You need rest.”

“… Okay.” Levi at last relents, placing the duster down and making his way to where Furlan and Isabel are lying together. Furlan scoots some to the side and holds his arm out, inviting, as Levi settles down, nestling against him.

They’re quiet for a while, and Furlan stares absently at the ceiling above them as Levi turns, pressing his face against his shoulder.

There’s a thousand and one things Furlan thinks he wants to say to Levi. He wants to beg him to stop doing this. Going out and putting himself in so much danger like that. He wants to thank Levi for it, for taking care of him and Isabel, even at the expense of himself. Wants to find a way to show Levi how much he appreciates it, how grateful he is. Wants to understand why it is Levi seems to care so little about himself in turn. Why he… treats himself like a tool to be used, instead of a person who matters.

Maybe it’s his fault, Furlan thinks dismally. Maybe, because when he first met Levi, that’s all Furlan saw him as too. A tool. Somebody he wanted, so he could use him to move up in the Underground gangs. Somebody who’s strength he coveted.

He was still using Levi for that, in a way. Even though Levi was their de facto leader, he let Furlan make all the plans, let Furlan, ultimately, call all the shots. He didn’t have to. If Levi wanted, he could rule their gang with an iron fist, and there wasn’t anything Furlan, or anybody else, could do about it. But Levi only ever leant his strength to make Furlan’s plans reality, only ever did all the hard stuff, the dangerous stuff, and Furlan let him.

He thinks he shouldn’t.

But he does, and he knows it’s because it’s comfortable for him, this way. Because he’s too selfish to try and change their setup. Because his plans, he knows, wouldn’t even be possible if he didn’t have Levi backing him up.

So he says nothing now, just curls his arms tighter round Levi and Isabel both, lets the silence settle over them as the night deepens outside.

[masterqwertster]

Ok don’t publish it if you don’t have to but man this weekend is bumming me right out with this “

Yeah, there is certainly some aggression going on against people wishing for resurrection because others find it a poignant narrative that a sacrifice can't be undone, that it lasts and has consequences, that it puts weight to the stakes. And they think that coming back to life after specifically doing something you know will 100% kill you cheapens sacrifice.

Personally, I think that being brought back after you willingly and knowingly and successfully gave your life for others tells a story of how much you're loved. It's your friends saying "Fuck that. You're going to live. We're all going to live. We'll keep dragging each other back until we can't anymore, so fucking be here and fight."

It also adds another level of desperation to be stronger, smarter, to not be caught like that ever again because who knows if you can get them back next time (and however many times you fail after that). Resurrections get harder ever time a person is brought back. This is part of what bit Scanlan's ass right before Bard's Lament: the Revivify didn't take, so the rest of Vox Machina brought in his daughter to call him back during the Resurrection (which he hated) and got the chance to be dicks about bringing him back with the dumb pranks, all of which led to setting Scanlan off. And sure, Bells Hells had that desperation to keep each other alive from the Bassuras fight, but that doesn't mean that the sentiment can't be further sharpened even when you've managed to steal back all the lives of your party members that she took.

Honestly, I think that just having Chet and FCG die against the Murder Machine of Otohan after Bells Hells specifically and successfully went to efforts to get stronger still ups the stakes even if both end up revived. "All our might and we still faced that loss. It would have been all of us if FCG didn't make that play. We still cannot face the enemy leadership head-on as we are. We must get stronger still."

And I really think there's some fun character development to be had in giving FCG a flesh body. Will he actually like what they've envied about the others? How does one handle a completely new body that they're grateful for (that they should be grateful for, otherwise they'd be dead) but is just so different from what they know? Yes, FCG had that last moment clarity that he was in fact already fully alive, but there's definitely some "alive in the flesh" things to explore.

And more faith to explore too. Like, did he get to meet the Changebringer and talk with her in the afterlife? The Raven Queen? Speaking of just being in the afterlife, what about meeting Eshteross again? The other members of the Division of Public Benefit that he killed?

Also, I'm not sure how big a fan I am of the heavy breakdowns that will happen if FCG isn't resurrected. Bells Hells is suffering pretty good as is and I'd like them to have some happiness inbetween all the Moon Bullshit. Conflict drives a story, but you need soft moments to wind it down between heavy moments.

Because truthfully, most of what you get from keeping FCG dead is a bunch of breakdowns in the party without it's most optimistic member who actually advocates for communication, which they all suck at for various personal reasons. And a push towards the Villain Arc path that, honestly, a few are walking just fine without FCG staying dead and/or can still be pushed further down it just by the fact that he decided to kill himself to save their asses when no one wants to let any of the others go.

I do think that as far as martyrdom goes, what FCG did took a nice step away from "giving my life because it's worth less than any one of theirs and I think dying for a cause will give me absolution for the people I rage killed" and into "giving my life because it will save them and I don't know what else to do that will save them." There are certainly posts that get into the distinction between those choices better than I have. Which is where I think the "best ending for FCG" idea comes from, as it happened under the "best" reasoning for FCG to martyr himself. And to a certain degree, people have decided that martyrdom was unavoidable for FCG or that he was just highly prone to it and this was a good time/way to do it.

Still doesn't change that a self-sacrificing character did in fact sacrifice themself, though. Or that it didn't have to be the end that FCG met.

And I understand to some degree how Everyone Comes Back to Life if You Try can feel like it undermines the stakes. Because if no one stays dead, what do you have to fear from walking into mortal danger? Everyone will be fine right? Which is wrong. There is still trauma in dying, even when you're brought back. The realization of mortality, the struggle to steal back a life when it's not just a quick prayer in the heat of battle. And the ever looming possibility that you do it right and it's still not enough to steal them back.

Also, from the wider in-the-game-world's perspective: Resurrection is rare as shit and only people with immense wealth, connections, and/or power even have a shot at it.

Even mechanically it's not easy. You have to mind time limits, expensive costs, body conditions, spell levels and slots, not to mention that the dice can always say no.

So yes, Bells Hells probably needs to go to less effort to Reincarnate FCG than they did to resurrect Laudna because all they're missing is components while they have the likes of Keyleth who kind of owe them for Moon Scouting and killing Otohan and should be able to provide.

[delopsia]

Thinking about Rhett being a big cuddle bug...

First meeting him, you really wouldn't have thought that he was big on physical touch at all. Always lurking quietly in the background, mindful of personal space, and rarely reaching out for someone. From the outside looking in, Rhett appeared to be just another lone cowboy, choosing solitude over all else.

Come to find out that isn't the case at all.

"Rhett, I have to get up for work, baby," but your half-hearted protests are only met with resistance in the form of your cowboy hugging your waist tighter, snuggling into your chest just a little further.

"Just five more minutes?" He grumbles, breath tickling your skin.

It's near impossible to sit up with his large body on top of yours, trying only rewards you with him starting to squirm, clinging to you even closer than before. He's like quicksand; the more you fight him, the more he pulls you in.

Running your hands through his tangled hair, you guide him to look up at you. A part of you wishes you hadn't because the sleepiness that fills those big blue eyes is playing upon your resolve, "we'll both be late if we stay here any longer."

Mondays are always the worst. It's hard waking up early when you've had two luxurious days of sleeping in until your internal clocks decided it was time to wake up. Your big ol' night owl on top of you hates nothing more than having to go back to the same old early routine.

He stretches, yawning soundlessly, "can I have a kiss, then?"

Even you cannot deny him such a thing, even if 'a' kiss quickly turns into three, four, five, eight extra chaste pecks. There are a few more stolen in between passes in the hallway. Right before he leaves, he waits in the bathroom doorway until you're done brushing your teeth because he wants to give you a goodbye kiss and remind you that he loves you.

You don't see him again until tonight's rodeo; you're standing in line for a food truck when all of a sudden, there's a pair of arms wrapping around your waist, a hat brushing against the top of your head.

"Hi, Rhett," he's done this so many times that you don't need to look to know that it's him.

"Hello, sunshine," Rhett whispers into your ear, his lips brushing against the shell of it, "figured I'd find you over here, somewhere."

What's funny about it is how shameless he is about the whole thing. Pulling you into his lap, even when there are seats available, hugging you from behind whenever and wherever, and there has been more than one occasion where he has fallen asleep like that, chin hooked over your shoulder, dead on his feet.

His favorite thing to do is use you as his pillow, whether his head is on your thigh, your chest, or somewhere in between. It's ridiculous how easily he'll fall asleep like that.

"Are you serious?" Cecelia whispers, "this is all it took?'

You can't say you're surprised. When Rhett told you he was having trouble sleeping lately, you knew there could be only one culprit. A severe lack of his favorite sleeping companion.

You think he was asleep before you even opened up your arms, beckoning him to come and lay on top of you. He fits on top of you so perfectly, with a comforting heaviness that feels more like a blanket than anything. His legs dangle off the edge of the tiny couch, just a touch too big for the old thing, but that doesn't hinder him one bit.

You don't remember falling asleep, but you wake up a bit later to kisses being peppered along your cheeks and a sleepy-eyed cowboy smiling down at you.

"Ma's gotta dinner on the table," he tells you, in between more kisses, "she made your favorite."

When he's drunk, it becomes his main personality trait.

"Rhett!" You call out, "why are you out here all by yourself?"

You know he's drunk simply by the way he sways with the wind as he staggers down the sidewalk, aimlessly seeking something that he can't seem to find. He struggles to turn around, feet becoming tangled in each other.

"I think..." yeah, he's drunk, "I think Perry left with me."

Opening up your arms, you beckon him closer, and he all but stumbles right into them, burying his cold nose in the crook of your neck. You haven't the slightest clue what possessed you to take a drive through town tonight, but you're glad you did.

"Did you two get into an argument again?"

"Uhuh."

Figures.

The good thing about Rhett being drunk is that he's very good at following directions. You don't even need to open your mouth, you just point to your car across the street, and he's already got the picture.

"Let's get you home," you tell him, pressing a kiss to his scruffy cheek.

"Let's get me home," parroting you.

He's awfully confused the next morning when he comes stumbling into the kitchen, pawing at his aching head as he tries to piece together how in the world he wound up here.

It's even worse when he's told that he can't be touching you at all. So when he's told he can't even hold your hand during this charity sleepover at the church, he doesn't know what to do.

"Rhett, that's inappropriate; stop," one of the ladies running the event scolds. Rhett's face drops, eyelashes fluttering as he looks down where your pinkies have become interlaced.

It's all the eyes that come to focus solely on him that make him fall quiet, protests dying in his throat as he places his hand in his lap. You're not sure what it is about that picture that makes your gut twist, a cold, invisible hand squeezing at your heart.

You catch yourself reaching out for him during dinner, he sees it too, and he just looks so...lost. All of a sudden, he doesn't know what to do with himself. Frankly, you don't know what to do with yourself either. You've grown so used to him always touching you, whether it be fully snuggling up to your side or just having your knees touching.

He gets into a whirlwind of trouble when he forgets the no-touching rule and sleepily rests his head against your shoulder during a movie. They put the two of you on opposite sides of the room and assign you 'purity monitors' to keep you in check.

For the night, they put you all in a bunch of questionably clean sleeping bags, sending you all scattered about the church, with special care to keep genders separate. You're on the nursery floor; they've stuck Rhett somewhere near the pastor's office. It's quiet in here, comfortably so, but you just can't seem to keep your eyes closed.

In fact, it's so quiet that you can hear socked feet pattering down the hallway, slow and deliberate like they're trying to avoid detection. The nursery door opens.

"Who is it?" You grumble, opening one eye.

It's dark, but you know that silhouette from anywhere. It's Rhett who idles in the doorway, chewing on his bottom lip.

"Can't sleep," he confesses, voice feather light like he's afraid of hearing his own admission.

There's only one solution to this.

"I thought you wanted to stay the whole night?" Rhett remarks as he tugs his shirt from his shoulders, yawning.

"I did," patting the open space next to you, urging him to hurry up and get into bed, "until I learned that it would be like that."

There's probably a snarky little comment on his tongue that he's just dying to hit you with, but for now, he holds onto it. Right now, you're both too focused on tangling up with each other until there's no hope of figuring out who ends and starts where.

Rhett's a cuddle bug, and he's turned you into one too.

[wodra-regon]

Link and Zelda’s relationship is sending me

I’m living for breath of the wild ( and by extension tears of the kingdom) world building. Especially in regard to Link and Zelda’s relationship. Regardless on how you see it, it’s really nicely set up and described and it’s honestly really wholesome.

What got me to make this post was getting to hateno village and checking Link’s house only to find that it’s now Zelda’s house.

And that killed me instantly. The idea of Link essentially offering up his whole house for Zelda because he could care less if he was homeless (even though he knew Zelda wouldn’t let him be homeless) as long as Zelda was in a safe place for her to help the kingdom get back on its feet. It’s so selfless. That and how Zelda had a character arch of initially hating him following her around (even if Link didn’t quite like her yet either it was his job) but they both grew to appreciate each other’s company. To the point where Link doesn’t HAVE to follow Zelda around anymore technically. The King that gave those orders is dead and Zelda has other knights that can take the shift. But he wants to be with her anyway. And Zelda wants him around. Link is Zelda’s emotional support Hylian and vice versa at this point. The fact that it’s heavily implied that they only really completely open up to each other and not others from shared experiences and “you’re responsible for saving the world” trauma.

Wild Link and Zelda’s relationship in this game stands out from other games in that it honestly gives off “quite introverts” and/or “bottled anxiety” energy. Like when I imagine these two hanging out they are just quietly enjoying time with each other. Maybe chatting about something here and there but they don’t mind silence either. A different energy than say Hero of the Winds and Tetra where I imagine them hanging out has a lot more energy lol. Hell, I think Skward Sword Link in Zelda would have more energy in their hang out time. They also have more extrovert energy to them compared to others.

But yeah Link and Zelda give off “I have a short social battery but I know how to push through it because my job requires public relations.”

[the-monkey-ruler]

Going back to that anon that ask about the pain swk went through bc of the fillet

—yea theres r no time ever that this fainting ever happened in the novel nor do the bleeding. Yes it does happen in various other adaptations when the fillet does that but not in the novel.(not in the Anthony c yu verse at least. Idk about the tge other but im less likely to recommend them bc they either miss a fuck ton of jttw thing OR Very icky authors who is sinophobic af)

I think ppl who already tends to have a more negative idea of tang sanzang(bc of OSP iteration n more)tends to make his character far worse than it actually is.

Like w the fillet.(no hate to various adaptations who do the usage of the fillet that make swk faints. Love me that honestly but my gripes is w those who make it that it applies to alll swks and even in the og novel.) even going so far as to make tang sanzang as the abuser to swk. <that could not be more farther than the truth. It is in fact a very skewed power dynamics that make both characters be in the same but different positions of powers depending on the situations>

Im pretty sure he ended up doing it less as much as ppl assume he did pre-LEMH ARC. (Bro did not use the spell day to day basis pls ppl stop using it in argument bc its not even supported in the og txt itself. He called his disciple as good guys yet are ugly af—hes a asshole but not that much of a asshole. Hes so so naive but he trying his best even if he get swung w traumatizing shit every arc back to back. He like a perfect example of how imperfect traumatized person would act.

My gods these pilgrims need sm therapy

He didn't use it for years before the Six Ears Arc and didn't use it years after either.

It always surprises me when people say he used it too much considering that he only used it in frequency in a single day and then did not touch it for literally YEARS cause he really doesn't use it that often in the book.

The only real times he does overdue it is in the White Bone Demon Arc where he uses it multiple times and in the Six Ears Arc as well. Otherwise, there was that one-off with like Sanzang being misplaced with a fake Sanzang and they had to find out who was the real one, I think with the Black Wind Demon on their first adventure solo, and maybe the Lion-Lynx Arc with the dead king. Otherwise, that's about... 30 other arcs. (that is about 5 arcs out of 30~ other demon arcs)

So over the course of 14 years, I really don't think that should be considered 'every day whenever he could' ....cause he really doesn't. Wukong pulls a lot of tricks and schemes that do give him a mischievous air but the point is that the pilgrims had distrust for one another at the start that is question and put them to the test. And it's only when they face that collective battle and do they come out with a deeper understanding, not only of each other but themselves that they gain their merit.

Sanzang says they are ugly yeah (rude) but he always defends that they are good people to humans that are terrified of their looks, always trying to help even if he can't offer much but a helping word and an ear to listen. He always trusts they will save him and even not he has prayed over them because he thought they died and wanted blessings in their next life for being such good people in this one. This is his journey too and I think it's unfair for people to ignore how his character also comes to get closer to the gang. Especially after he found his long-lost family only to imminently lose them again. I mean even at the start he was made fun of for being an orphan and found his parents, but one commits suicide just weeks after meeting him and the other is the same age as him since he came back from the dead unchanged and he can't even rely on as a parent.

He was kinda put through it with that family drama.

It was just one thing after another at the start for him and I think he never had a chance to have a close group of friends to rely on.

And I hate when this idea that Sanzang is a bad person or that is an abuser when there are so many ways that they are similar and both trying to overcome their challenges on this journey while learning how to rely on other people. They mean too much to each other and while it is hard for them to see eye to eye they have that bond of loyalty that was hard won and grew with time. Sanzang is just a mortal man that can be killed with a single blow in charge of three demons and a dragon on their parol. While each one of his disciple (one that more likely than not ate his past lives) have unthinkable magic and power that no mortal can dream of fighting against.

And he is supposed to lead them to enlightenment?

It is so funny it could be sad.

And they still did it.

It was literally them against the world.

And I hate how people are comparing the fillet to a shock collar as well considering its lore with Buddhism. Like it has so much more meaning both culturally and literally but people always want to overlook its real meaning as 'it's a torture device' like... no... it's really not.

No, I agree that pain is not a good answer nor that I condone that behavior but people got to remember that this was written 500~ years ago when training the body was having a similar mindset to training the mind. That doesn't make it right but it was also to show that Sanzang was never meant to be an abusive teacher and that yes while he is wrong on multiple accounts that weren't meant for him to be seen as a bad person, jut a misguided one.

The fillet does have more history to it as well even seen in other Buddhas as a symbol of self-discipline. It was to be a sign of restraint when it comes to bettering oneself and Wukong need to accept that the world doesn't and shouldn't revolve around him. I understand it’s not as common to see in America and but it's far more than just a symbol of pain, it holds a lot more meaning when it comes to personal growth and being able to recognize flaws within yourself to better them.

That's why in the end only Wukong can be the one to take off the fillet. There is no Fillet-Loosening Spell. There never was one. The Fillet is a part of Wukong and only when he has that full control over himself, that he masted his impulsiveness and attained true enlightenment and immorality did the fillet disappear because it wasn't needed anymore. Wukong at first has to overcome his own ego and arrogance to accept that he has a problem in order to overcome that.

I thank that’s why GuanYin also gave Wukong a fillet because she knew Wukong could overcome his anger and take it off she believed in him that much.

It reminds me of that Wizard of Oz with the red shoes scene where the good witch was like "You could have gone home the entire time" and the same way Wukong could have taken the band off at any time if he learned to control himself and his impulsive. The band wasn't there to teach him to learn through pain, but rather that he can go on the journey and go through that personal growth of facing his inner demons and being able to mature as a person.

At least that's how I always saw it.

[dramallamas]

Rewatching Beyond Evil and I’m taking (somewhat) unserious notes! Enjoy my brain worms.

Episode 1 || Next Episode

Ooooo dead body

Mad to think that when I first saw Jihoon’s actor he was playing a bully. This is a complete 180 and he does both roles well.

Intense middle aged running with intense music

(Spongebob style) Flashback~

Ah a church. You will never catch me there

The song they’re singing is oddly fitting to the theme of the show sans the whole God thing

We don’t stan Dongsik slander in this household.

Lee Dohyun <3

The signs in this flashback. The shot of the guitar pick, Kang Jinmuk being seen a lot but in the background, Bang Juseon being rude to Dongsik, Dongsik telling Yuyeon to leave at night (aka he had “motive”) etc

Lee twins crumbs I love it.

The cold filter when Dongsiks mum finds yuyeons fingertips nice touch

The title being “(to) Appear" mwah nice

Love the shots of how everything is “worse”when we transition to Dongsik now

Oct 11 2020 remember that me

HERE HE IS ITS JUWON

Dongsik saying stop in english <3

Pls the dramatic slow mo 🤣

Dongsik is a true justice/law upholder. Never letting things slide if its wrong. He and juwon are alike in that sense.

“Many a mickle makes a muckle” netflix what does that mean???? Like i get it but ive never heard that saying in my life

Everyone turns to see Juwon par Dongsik… that is until he speaks.

Juwon judging people and things right off the bat. Bro is not amused.

Technically Juwon is higher rank than Dongsik because Dongsik is assistant inspector and Juwon is flat out inspector

Dongsik immediately knew something was up as soon as he heard who Juwon’s dad is.

Juwon’s first impression of Dongsik is that he is intelligent and follows the law like rulebook when dealing with people (ofc he also thinks he is a murderer and should avoid someone like him and has already decided he hates his guts)

The tension starts as soon as Juwon drives past Dongsik. They immediately are making notes on each other

YOO JAEYI MY GIRLBOSS BELOVED. She is so much more clever than people give her credit for.

Jeongje and Dongsik being best friends…

OH JIHWA ^^

I love the manyang crew interactions.

“He’s not my type” not now… but he will be. you have no idea whats coming for you, Dongsik

Ew Hna Kihwan

I love these dinner scenes with Juwon. They so clearly reflect him and his attitude at the time as well as his relationship with his dad as well as how they change over the show.

아버지 and not 아빠 really emphasises the father-son relationship they have (or lack thereof)

Their first interaction and they already dont like each other.

Everyone sucking up to Juwon and trying to work with him and hes like yeah… no. Y’all are weird.

THEN GETS OFFENDED WHEN DONGSIK SAYS HE DOESNT WANNA WORK WITH HIM LMAOO

so hes like… two can play at this game bitch and calls Dongsik a nutjob.

Their reaction when Sangbae pairs them up is top tier

Juwons inner thoughts: “Day one… fuck my life”

Dongsik started teasing Juwon off the bat

They both have a super impressive memory wtf

“There are no secrets in this town. You are always being watched by someone.”

Dongsik nags Juwon about his aggressive driving and immediately drives aggressively because he can

Ah the reed field…

Juwon traipsing through the mud was me last week when I had to walk home (our area flooded)

We dont give the score for this show enough credit its so good like

“Why did you just stand there when a gust of wind was coming? You’ll learn once it slaps you in the face.” Metaphorrrrrrr

Juwon is already accusing Dongsik like 40mins into the ep like damn

Fresh out the shower dongsik is so yes.

Juwon in that white jumped is also a yes.

Mate respectfully I don’t think you got how relationships work. “People at my school or in my hometown want to be my friends by showing me unwanted kindness or attention. But at get-togethers they all talk about what I have or my connections. They gossip and laugh about it. In the end they all come to me for favours.” Dongsik is right in asking “Is it that simple?” Because it isn’t. (I will make a full post about this omg)

“What could you possibly have that makes you think you are the most important person in the universe?” THE MEANINGS OMG

Man gets so offended when people are like you have mysophobia then ends up roped into a get together.

Juwon trying to text a fake excuse to get out of the get together is so me because I have done that (its the anxiety for me)

Juwon is so awkward bless him.

“You’re supposed to stay glued to your partner all day, and know the colour of his underpants.” Dw Jihoon Juwon will learn ;)

Everyone clapping for Jinmuk and calling him the most important guy in manyang…

Juwon not liking his dad being brought up and Dongsik joking about it to diffuse the situation and also poke at Juwon

All important scenes happen when it rains.

Juwon quickly learns to not believe what dongsik says half the time XD

“I don’t want you to like me.” “It’s up to me to like someone or not.”

“Leave before you get caught.” What interesting phrasing Dongsik

Ah yes the Juwon and Hyeok brother dynamic. I find it interesting and think its an underrated Juwon relationship.

Hyeok trying be Han Kihwans son and Juwon is like “dont. Trust me.”

We mention Dongsiks wall of notes and stuff on the Yuyeon etc case but we dont talk about Juwons enough. Mf has two. Two fricken boards. One he makes in his closet (?) above his computer and the other next to his bed.

The! Score! Ugh im a lover

It takes a whole day to get to the reed field this time??? Cause he arrived in the morning (i assume) at the police station and then the sun is set by the time he gets there. I think he may have procrastinated bc of the mud or he actually arrived in the afternoon and the sun sets ridiculously early in late october?

Juwon getting jumpscared by Dongsik again XD

I love how this episode brings us full loop to the start of the episode but includes Juwon the second time to add fresh perspective and the aftermath.

Juwon’s step back and shaky hand is a give away that he knows her and Dongsik immediately picks up on it. Yet Dongsik tells Jihoon to leave knowing this must be a secret.

And Juwon doesn’t miss a beat when Dongsik says its a woman. They’re both one upping each other all the time

We give Juwon shit for constantly grabbing juwons collar/shirt but Dongsik did it first! (And it was hot because he smooths out Juwons shirt after) Juwon just copied and repeated.

And Dongsik quickly realises why Juwon is in Manyang and decides to just play with him and be a little shit.

Mate you guys are at the first ep and already in each other’s faces

Ok fin see you next episode ^^

[mishapocalyse]

Hallelujah, My Ass (Part One)

Description: Soldier Boy is a skeptic when it came to religion. Unfortunately, his mind changes once he meets you.

Warnings: Soldier Boy is his own warning// Language//Fluff//Comfort//Kind of Angsty//Blood//Gore?

Pairings: Soldier Boy x Reader

Notes: Mixed some Supernatural in there. Because I can. Part of the Under 500 words prompt.

———————————

No.

He did not believe in God. How could he when no matter how loud or hard he screamed for Hod to save him, no one came. No one answered. Not until Butcher and the other fuckheads decided to break him out.

You were his guardian angel, assigned to him as he was chosen by Mr.Almighty himself. They called him a “righteous man” as to which the other angels snorted. They knew who America’s Soldier was and alas all knew that he didn’t belong in Heaven. However, he still was given you to watch over him.

It was a useless endeavor. Soldier Boy wanted nothing to do with Homelander, however his mission to take each and every one of his traitorous old teammates out was something he was achieving through the whole thing. He couldn’t die, really-and for some reason he hated that. He despised everything that was happening now and what happened back then.

“Oi. Are you done staring at the sun? We have the TNT Twins location.” Butcher announces, slinging the crowbar over his shoulder.

Soldier Boy rolled his eyes, snagging his shield off the floor. You were quick to follow, floating gracefully behind him and into the car that Butcher had somehow acquired. You sat next to him, listening to the disgusting conversation as Soldier Boy referred to the darling Hughie Campbell as “cum guzzler”. In no way was his lack of respect pleasing to you. However, you knew being his guardian he had his soft spots.

Your eyes flicked over to him again after while. He had fallen asleep on the way to Vermont. You leaned over to push a strand of hair from his face, he jerked and sat up abruptly, grumpily staring daggers at Hughie.

“Did you fucking touch me gay boy?” When Hughie said no, Soldier Boy huffed and looked back at the window without a snide remark. You giggled softly, continuing to watch him.

He should not have come to Herogasm. Neither should have you but anywhere he went—you were to follow. The place was booming with life and clad nude bodies intermingling with one another. You were alarmed by all the sin happening at once, you still followed diligently behind as Soldier Boy tore through the entire home killing his target. This time it felt off.

It was too hot—he was too hot this time.

From how bright he shined was too much for the people around him as he burned through them. For you, not a scratch. You reached out and for the first time you tenderly gripped onto his shoulders and transported him back to where Butcher and Hughie were waiting.

“You are becoming a hazard to yourself, dear boy.” You softly stated aloud.

“Who the fuck are you?” Soldier Boy said as both Hughie and Butcher were also staring directly at you.

You found yourself looking around, and you realized they could see you. This was not at all surprising as this had happened with other humans with their angels at times. This was one of those “not so graceful” moments.

You raised up, your white gown glistening in the sun. Your long hair lightly flowing in the wind.

“I am exceptionally relieved that my vessel was the one revealed instead of my true form. If that was the case…none of you would have eyes. Possibly even dead for gazing upon it.” You lightly laughed, stepping forward, giving a light curtsy.

“I am Y/N, your guardian angel, Soldier Boy.” When you had introduced yourself you were confused by the sudden lack of belief from your human.

“Yeah and I’m the fucking Easter Bunny.” He snorts. Butcher and Hughie are appalled, but with Soldier Boy in not believing you.

You sighed, shaking your head as you released your wings to full span. They were gold with black specks, fanning out to about a 40 ft wing span. Your eyes were a clear white as you stepped forward, engulfed in a ray of sunlight.

“I am an angel of the Lord-sent to guard and guide you to your life’s intended purpose.” You bellowed, voice echoing through the trees. The three men took their steps back.

“I guess the Father, Son and the Holy Ghost is real then. Well Hallelujah.” You heard Hughie say as you shot him a small smile.

“You are hurt.” You state taking Hughie’s hands as they glowed for a split second before returning to the correct color.

Staring back at Soldier Boy, he continued to shake his head at you and the situation.

“You do not have to believe me, dear Soldier. However, I am real. For that you must rejoice-“ he snorted again as he began to laugh at you.

“Gotta’ be kidding me. Hallelujah, my ass. Get the fuck out of here lady.”

Hughie tried telling him to watch mouth and do not taking you lightly.

“As you wish, Dear Solider Boy.” You left a feathery touch to his cheek before disappearing into thin air.

[izzy-b-hands]

Rambling abt the half dream half nightmare that woke me up today below the cut. feel free to ignore, just need to vent it out somewhere. Probably going to include me talking abt Current Family Issues and Feelings so. yeah. TW for mentions of someone in hospital, death, religion, and overall family dysfunction lmao

I know that ultimately, right now, if something big and/or terrible happened medically to anyone in my family back in ND, I wouldn't be able to go see them. The money just isn't there (part of why I'm not going out there this summer nor are they coming out here at all.) I've accepted it, and I try not to think abt it.

That said, LOVE (read: HATE) my brain deciding a hyper realistic yet weird dream abt my mum winding up in hospital is the way to go this morning. Complete with:

-her bf refusing to speak to me abt it, and telling me not to bother going to visit her in the weird, somehow existing in both CT and ND simultaneously, hospital with a 'haven't you already been enough of a burden to her?'

-me staying in my grandparent's old house in ND, and for some reason that meant being wildly unable to get ready to go to the hospital. Finding my clothes was nearly impossible, but. all their old decorations were back up on the wall so even as I was searching for them I like. Didn't want to leave? As if the house would revert back to being sold like it has been irl, if i left it. Finally I wound up just stealing clothes from my grandfather's side of their closet (specifically his old 80s styled 'eagle on a tree branch' print sweater that he got forced to toss a few years ago bc it was becoming more holes than sweater, and one of his old, big leather jackets. somehow i found jeans that fit me, idk how considering i can't seem to do that irl rn but i digress)

-me showing up to the hospital FINALLY only for Noel Fielding?? to be sitting outside it with a friend dressed in what i can only describe as absolutely gorgeous future techno witch clothing. Unfortunately they were fucking dicks in this dream and scared the shit out of me by joking that 'it was so nice I'd shown up still despite the worst' and implying my mum had already passed. Noel did shout apologies as i stomped off inside and that as far as he knew she was still okay, but his friend is the one who handed me a wrapped in plastic, small, metal stool with a weird cartoon face on the seat so i could 'sit with her body, like sitting shiva, right?' (not like that at all to my knowledge, but then again my family has rarely to never fully followed any of the various religious rituals around death, we just. take the bits the dead person liked from them and ignore the rest, for better or for worse. Maybe that's just what happens when a family is a mishmash of various christian sorts from Catholic to Protestant with the hidden knowledge that actually, prior to ppl moving to the States, ppl in the family were Jewish but inter-marrying into Catholic families for safety-sake, and so any Jewish traditions used now are done wrongly and weirdly and in odd bits and pieces. At least that's as much as I've been told/have found out abt it, anyway)

-I proceed into this stupidly fancy and open concept hospital, to immediately find a hugr crowd mucking up the elevators (crowding the elevator bank and refusing to let others on.) That's where Con showed up, and helped me make it up the ridiculously wide, roundish staircases (think like. wide rounded stage steps, but for each level of this hospital), while also trying soothe me by telling me Housemate was already here and waiting for me, so were my grandparents and even Mum's bf (he promised to keep him away from me lol, it was v sweet in an otherwise filled with anxiety dream.)

-however, as we were struggling up the steps (also full of crowds, pushing each other around, so we literally had to hold hands and hold onto the railings and walls to avoid being shoved down the stairs), he kept hesitating on saying more abt mum. He tried to distract me by mentioning that, since I was here, the docs might want me to address some of my own health issues but that he wouldn't let them force me into any treatment i didn't want. Then he finally alluded to mum being in worse straits than I'd been told abt and said something to the effect of 'doing only what you can, not what she or others would expect of you' and 'not to set yourself on fire to keep someone else alive' plus admitting he was deeply worried my family was abt to force me into a big decision that absolutely wasn't the ONLY treatment option that would help mum, but it was implied to be the one mum's bf and my grandparents were pushing for.

-still dunno exactly what that option was, but just before i woke up i started hearing the latter part of the song Gethsemane from JCS (Housemate and I have been watching various versions irl this weekend lol), specifically the bit where Jesus dares/begs/etc God to see how he dies. This was accompanied by me finally reaching my mum's hospital room, and a stupid bright light emanating from it and like. Not to critique my own brain and the dream it created, but that was far too on the nose for me personally lmao.

-and I woke up thinking abt the call with my grandparents that I had on Thursday (didn't go super poorly but went. kind of weird and uncomfortable and confirmed again that like. they're happy for me being out here in CT, yet at the same time hold it and my happiness against me to some unconscious degree as originally outright confirmed by Mum in an earlier call her and I had like. Tail end of last year lmao. the main crux seeming to be 'why couldn't i find happiness in ND/what's wrong with all of them/why wasn't i willing to keep trying to make my life work in ND regardless of my happiness/don't i know how hard it is without my being there to help everyone whenever they ask/etc family bullshit')

And now I'm laying here thinking. If the Worst would happen for any of them, they would fully expect me to empty my bank accounts and do whatever else i had to, to get to ND not just to see them, but to help. to take care of as much as possible for them (mum and grandma get decision paralysed by sad/scary life events, my aunt is so uncomfortable with sickness and death she won't do hospital visits or funerals at all anymore for anyone, my cousins...are young enough they won't know how to handle it/won't want to, my grandpa tends to just shut down and isolate when things go to shit, and that's not to say that they all don't still get done things that need doing in these situations, but that they DO all usually need prodding and help and have leaned on me for that since i was a kid.)

And i would of course want to see them/help however i could, but. not to that extent. not to the point that I'd have nothing for myself, no money or help (bc they're not in a position to return that help or money to me, and they'd be so emotional as to likely be extremely offended and upset if i mentioned needing help myself.)

That said, I'm sick of silently daring them to watch me die just for their sakes, even tho i do still love them all dearly. and of course, that's entirely too dramatic but at the same time, Mum and I have had convos abt 'what if there's a shooting somewhere that we're at, how do we handle it, how are we attempting to protect each other' and Mum always says she would take a bullet for me, but she didn't protest when i say that I'd take one for her or anyone else in the family first. Last time she just nodded like. yeah. of course you would. so. Feelings, abt all of this.

If u actually read this full thing that was A. very sweet of u and i appreciate that u care abt my silly lil fucked up brain enough to do that (genuinely, I'm v grateful) and b. here is a pic of Nisha as what little compensation i can give for u reading this long ass ramble lol

[bi4bihankking]

💜Hank/Jack Knight

Based on @lesbiandinin's Hank/David fic

If you had asked Jack that morning if he thought he could possibly wind up kissing his dead brother’s former fiancé later that day, then he would have called you crazy. It wasn’t that he hated the guy or thought that he was ugly or anything like that; it was more that he gave off a bit of an ethereal, untouchable air, and while Dad did try to get him to come to Sunday dinner, he always did seem a bit uncomfortable about coming over, and Jack wanted to respect his boundaries a little.   

Plus, he did have some level of loyalty somewhere deep down.  

But the point was, he got the vibe that Henry thought that since his connection to the family had died, he should just quietly leave them alone and not bother them anymore. The Scott family had definitely done a number on him, that was for sure.  

In fact, when he got the text, he almost thought that it was a misdial. ‘Jack’ was probably close enough to ‘Jay’ in his contacts that it was possible. Henry didn’t seem like he was close to that many people. But his name had been used, so it had to be for him: ‘Can you come pick me up, Jack?’ didn’t leave a lot of room for interpretation.  

Of course, he had forgotten to include where he wanted to be picked up from, and it took a little needling to get the fact that he was at a gay bar out of him. Jack probably got 4 paragraphs of excuses before he even got close to getting an address. That was probably why the telepath hadn’t texted Jay. Jay would be a hell of a lot less understanding, and he’d probably assume that Hank sleeping around with strange men was a problem to be fixed.  

It was a place Jack knew somewhat well. He’d been a few times in his younger days. Pulling up slowly alongside the building, he looked around for the redhead, finding him slumped down by the entrance, his back against the wall. He probably didn’t want to sit on the pavement like that. Who knew what had been there? It was too late to do anything about it, though. Jack parked the car and swung open the door, but Hank didn’t even look up.  

Jack sighed, supposing that meant that he’d have to lift him up himself. It took a lot of effort, but eventually, he was able to get the telepath’s arm around his shoulder and hoisted him up to his feet. Hank let out a weak groan.  

“Did someone do something to you?” Jack asked, trying to keep his voice soft and comforting. “Did someone put something in your drink?”  

Thankfully, the other man shook his head. “It was stupid of me to think I could handle being somewhere that crowded.”  

It took a moment for what exactly he meant by that to truly sink in, but no matter what anyone might say about the main problem being solved, the truth was that Mister Mind eating part of Hank’s brain had definitely left him with a permanent disability. It meant that if he was in a crowded place, other people’s minds would just pour into his, and no matter how much time passed, it didn’t seem to be improving.  

Which was obviously an issue when he just wanted to fool around and have fun with other guys, but the main places for doing that were packed with people (and the apps for doing so were filled with some of the most annoying people alive). Jack patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. “Well,” he offered, “you could always ask someone to set you up.”  

Hank let out a loud groan. “Nooooooooo-”  

Yeah, Jack had guessed that one would be a no-go. He thought about it some more while leading the other man back to his car. What he came up with was probably the worst idea possible.  

“Well...” Jack started, slowly pushing Hank back against his car and leaning in for a deep kiss. His tongue pushed past the telepath’s slack lips and explored the cavern of his mouth. By the time he pulled back, both men were breathless. “You could always come home with me.” He finished, as if the offer hadn’t been implicit.  

David was going to kill him the next time they saw each other. 

[ickymichi]

and i wonder if you know, how it really feels.

rindou haitani x gn reader

rindou haitani was a name that made you feel warm like the summers day. rindou haitani is now a name that makes you feel cold like the winters night

warnings: angst, like no comfort(my first time trying this :p), implied toxic relationship.

remember: gn reader, no pronouns mentioned, ageless and blank blogs dni or ur blocked.

note: was DETERMINED to write a fic in one sitting and i can only do this through song fics. was gonna be about issei, but i wanted to make joonie suffer bc of rindou angst >:) sorry it’s kinda short but that’s how reggie rocks

song: left outside alone- anastacia

left broken, empty in despair. wanna breathe, can’t find air.

rindou haitani. even the mention of his name can send chills down the spines of the young delinquents of roponggi. for you, it was a name that brought joy and lifted you up from whatever mood you were in.

thought you were sent from up above, but you and me never had love.

day in and day out for the majority of your teen and young adult life you spent at rindou’s side—and that meant ran’s also. watching over him as he and his brother run the city and their people in it. with rindou, it was like having a guardian angel with you. whenever you were in trouble or upset he would always be there for you. with all this, you knew rindou was the one you could love for the rest of your years. you told each other so before you went to sleep every night. but you just told each other, some may say you never really showed it.

so much more i have to say, help me find a way.

it was a winters night. a cold one at that. cold in the way the wind would cut through you, and cold in the way yours and rindou’s mixed yells cut through the walls of your apartment. yet another endless fight over something neither party even cared about anymore. something about rindou claiming he saw you with someone else while he was at work. which is nearly impossible since because of his new job he practically has you on house arrest. even in the dead of night you just gave up trying to get a word in. you couldn’t if you tried, he wouldn’t let you, he never did. it’s always his problems, he’s tired, his mess isn’t cleaned up.

and i wonder if you know, how it really feels.

you truely did wonder, did rindou feel they way you do now—on the small occasion—when you get like this. helpless, small and useless. desperate to scream at him to stop as he fires insult after insult right at you. screaming at you for something that never even happened.

to be left outside alone, when it’s cold out here.

just another mindless fight, you told yourself. desperately trying to convince yourself it was true as you sat on a bench in the blistering cold after rindou trashed the apartment in his mess of rage before telling you to leave. this is how it always is, you get the short end of the stick during these times. you’re always cast aside when he gets like this, then reeled back in when he calms down and feeds you empty apologies.

well maybe you should know, just how it feels to be left outside alone.

it wasn’t but a month and a half later after your last clash. both bodies filled with alcohol or some kind of substance that’s adding fuel to the raging fire of a fight your in. you don’t even think there’s a reason, not that there ever is. you just wanted to make rindou feel as small as he does to you. and maybe finally free yourself from the chains that you used to think were filled with love. once he shatters the first bottle that’s when your hands are on his chest pushing him towards the door in a blind rage. heeding your warnings rindou takes nothing but his pride with him as he slams the door. instantly, it was as if a weight was taken off one of your shoulders. but there was still that tipping weight on the other that you couldn’t quite shake off that easily. yeah, you finally got away from the man causing filling you with hate. but what about the years of love you shared? surely it can’t be that hard to get over rindou haitani. but just a few blocks away, rindou haitani was stumbling through the snow watching his tears mix with the white slush. is this was it felt like whenever he fought with you, whenever he pushed you out that door the way you did him? is this what it feels like to be

left outside alone.

[bunky-writes]

Chapter 5:

“And Fall”

Two and a half months have gone by. That’s roughly 75 days, in hours that would round up to about 1.800 hours. It’s therefore been 1.800 hours since I’ve felt the sun. Its heat, how it spreads across your body, and your eyes automatically close due to the soothing feeling. It’s also been 1.800 hours since I’ve smelled the fresh air, salty winds from the beach, baked goods in the city, and that wet pavement scent after a summer shower.

I never thought I’d long to feel sand between my toes. I hate sand, it gets everywhere. The people who like sand between their toes are insane and should get therapy.

Speaking of therapy, my nightmares have not let up. I’m not sure when they got worse. Most of the time if I have a nightmare, I won’t sleep for the rest of the night. There’s no use trying, god knows I have tried.

The only times they let up are when I fall asleep next to Harvey or Pax. But that doesn’t happen that often. I can’t help but feel like this is too good to be true. Like something bad will happen. I keep hearing these noises at night, like scratching. Harvey thinks it’s just rats, but I’m not so sure.

The days have been long and tiring, mostly working at the farm, eating, hanging with Pax and Jo, and then it repeated. There's not much to do in here.

This morning was spent the same. Kate and I worked on the farm, watering the plants.

Checking the dirt and what else. Pax and Joseph were still working on storage, seems like something had happened because during breakfast it was tense and awkward. Harvey didn’t seem to mind, too busy to complain about “the horrible architecture and maintenance” to read the room.

I don’t know if I should ask them about it, it seemed like a family matter. Something private, hidden from the rest of the world. Nice to know it wasn’t just my family that would pretend to be perfect. That their perfect “son” wasn’t a dropout. A disappointment, a basket case.

“…-me that bag of seeds?”

“Hm?”

I woke up from my daydreaming to Kate looking at me, she had asked me something but I had honestly no clue what.

“I asked if you could hand me that bag of seeds.”

“Oh, yeah, of course!”

I realized the bag was in my hand, completely forgotten. I quickly gave it to Kate, almost stumbling over a filled bag of potatoes.

“You okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah, yeah… Just tired.”

I tried to smile but judging by Kate’s worried expression, it was probably more of a grimace.

“You know if you want to talk… I’m always here, even if it’s something simple and insignificant.”

I was thankful for Kate’s friendly remark, but I didn’t want to talk to anyone, to be honest. I knew I’d probably get therapy for what I’d seen if the world hadn’t gone to shit. And I was more than certain I needed to talk to someone. But I didn’t feel comfortable or ready.

“Yeah, I know.” This time, I did smile.

After that ordeal, we worked until lunch. Pax and Joseph were passive-aggressive. I don’t know what happened before breakfast but they’ve been tense ever since. Pax has never looked as annoyed and frustrated as now.

"Never thought I'd have a quiet lunch in this place." Harvey suddenly chimed in

He's right, there was always some noise during meals. Whether that's Kate's fussing, Pax dumb jokes or Jo complaining over Kate's fussing. But now, during this lunch, it was dead quiet. It was uncomfortably tense and incredibly awkward.

"Yeah, well, blame that on Joseph," Pax spoke up, with a bitter tone. It was dripping with venom.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Jo spoke up, standing up from his seat.

"You know exactly what I mean, why do you always have to take everything so seriously?!" Pax stood up as well.

"Fuck you, dude!"

“HEY! Cut it out!" Kate finally cut in, obviously tired of the fighting.

"This can wait until after dinner, now eat your damn meal."

Both the boys thunked down in their seats, still glaring at each other. The rest of the lunch was spent in an even tenser atmosphere.

“Six, can I speak to you for a second?”

Kate stopped me after lunch, she seemed anxious.

“Uh, yeah sure. No problem.” I replied.

We both walked to the hallway while Harvey and the boys washed the dishes.

“Would you mind taking over inventory with Pax? I don’t know what’s going on in those boys’ minds but it’s probably best to let them cool off right now.”

Kate was tired, annoyed, and frustrated by her sons’ conflict. I’d be too. Her plucked eyebrows were furrowed and she seemed older due to her frown.

“Pax, well I’m not sure how to say this-“ Kate sighed while fiddling on the end of her button-up “-He can be rather private. I know it might surprise you but…”

“No, no I get it,” I quickly answered, and I meant it. I used to be a lot more outgoing. Hiding behind a façade until it got too tiring.

“Oh… Good. Well, thank you, sweetie.”

After washing up, Pax went to the fridge. Probably checking out the last remains of fresh fruit. Kate went back to the kitchen, most likely to continue working in the garden.

Joseph walked past me. But he stopped soon after.

“Uh, Six?” He seemed worried.

“Yeah?”

“I believe you, um, about the noises I mean… I’ve been hearing weird noises from the vents in the boys’ room.”

“What kind of noises?” I was getting worried.

“Like… groans-“ Jo looked down to his feet “- and scratches. Sometimes… Sometimes it sounds like someone’s suffocating.”

The hairs on my neck raised. A shiver, cold and shocking, went down my spine.

“It… It can’t just be rats right?”

I swallowed my spit, My throat suddenly dry.

“Joseph, tell your mom and Harvey about this, okay? Even if they think it’s nonsense. You’ve got to convince them somehow.”

Joseph paled, maybe he finally realized how dire that sounded.

“Y-yeah,” was all he said when he all but sprinted towards the boiler room. Most likely to find Harvey.

I continued towards the fridge room in the kitchen.

“God damn list” I heard mutterings.

Ironically it seemed the fridge had not cooled Pax’s mood. Pax was leaning over one of the crates in the fridge room. He was cursing and grumbling over a list displayed over the crate.

“Uh, Pax?”

Pax whipped his head towards me, evidently surprised. He looked tired and frustrated. But his eyes lit up when he saw me.

“Oh! What’s up, beanstalk?”

Ignoring his dumb nickname. I studied the room, there wasn’t much. Most of the fresh produce was gone. An apple or a pear here and there.

“Your mom thought it was best if I switched with your brother,” I replied.

“Ah, yeah. Probably for the best.”

The air was dry and cold and the atmosphere extremely awkward.

“Look, I’m sorry about that by the way. You shouldn’t have to be in between this… family drama, you know?”

Pax seemed almost ashamed at his outburst earlier. He was looking at anything except me. Absentmindedly clicking an ink pen.

“It’s okay. But… What happened? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Pax sighed. His eyes were conflicted and glossy. He was quiet for a couple of seconds.

“It’s… It’s just that Jo… Jo has a tendency to be stuck-up.-“ he grimaced at the lack of a better word “-He constantly does everything by the book and tries to act ‘older’, I guess.”

“Oh. Do you know why?”

“Well, if it isn’t obvious-“ Pax chuckled self-detrimentally “-My dad, our dad, isn’t in the picture. Jo barely remembers him but ever since he left. I’ve had to help mom out with working and stuff, you know? I never got to have that careless childhood and I want Jo to have that but for some reason, he’s obsessed with growing up!”

By the end of Pax’s rant, he was out of breath and red. But he seemed calmer and more relaxed. I sighed and tried to find the best way to word my next sentence.

“I don’t know your brother that well and I can only think from my own experience but… Maybe he wants to carry a part of that burden you’ve been carrying by yourself?”

“Oh… I… I didn’t think about that.”

“You might not realize it, Pax. But you’re, like, Jo’s idol. He’s probably worried that he’s being a burden.”

“But he’s not! He’s my lil bro, he could never,” Pax exclaimed.

I chuckled a bit. I guess this is how it feels to have a sibling. A sort of love-hate relationship where you hate their guts but know they’ll have your back.

“Six… Thank you, truly. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

I smiled and nodded. The tense air fizzled out and instead, a comfortable, warm, and almost intimate feeling washed over us.

By the end of the workday, we had gone through both the freezer and fridge rooms. Dinner was silent, but both the boys seemed eager to apologize.

“For the love of Jesus H. Christ. One of you boys better say something before I make you!”

Harvey was seemingly tired of the atmosphere. Kate and I chuckled as both Pax and Jo turned bright red.

“Uh, Jo, sorry about calling you a pain in my ass.”

“Mm, thanks, and sorry for saying fuck you.”

“It seems like the two of you got a lot to talk about,” Kate spoke up.

The boys nodded, and albeit a bit ashamed, Pax looked at me. His eyes brimming with gratitude as he mouthed a “thank you”.

The rest of the dinner was spent with the occasional small talk or joke.

After washing up we all decided to turn in for the night.

“Six, I’m sorry. I tried to convince them but they wouldn’t believe me. I guess they still think I’m a baby or something.”

Jo finished his sentence with a mumble. Clearly by the disregard of his warnings.

“I think they just don’t want to scare anyone. Or themselves. There’s nothing wrong with being younger, you know? There’s a lot you will miss when you get older.”

Joseph didn’t seem that convinced.

“I don’t know,” he trailed off.

“Let’s go to bed and we’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

Jo only nodded and headed towards the boys’ bunkroom.

That night I slept terribly. Flashes of “The Incident” plaguing my dreams, The blood rising in the streets until I’m drowning in it.

I had nowhere to hide. To run.

Abruptly I hear a scream. It sounds like Kate. Only I’m no longer dreaming. What followed the scream was chaos.

Harvey ran into my room, grabbed my arm, and practically dragged me out of my room.

“What’s going on?!”

“I hate to admit it kid but you were right. We’re being invaded. Go to the kitchen and help Pax and Jo grab as much conserved food as you can. Don’t forget first aid stuff. Kate and I will hold them off!”

I hear a groan from the boiler room

“Now, Six!”

I stumbled as I sprinted into the kitchen. Pax and Jo were already quickly packing canned food and bandages, amongst other things, into five backpacks.

“What the hell is going on?!”

“Well seems like my theory about zombies wasn’t off, Pax replied.

“Oh fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Suddenly I hear gunfire. I flinched but grabbed one of the backpacks and started packing.

Kate unexpectedly appeared in the kitchen, her face bloody and a shotgun in her hands.

“Jesus, mom!”

“Shut it, Paxton, we’re outnumbered. Harvey and I have barricaded the boiler room and hallway. Better get ready with the backpacks!”

Harvey soon appeared and grabbed one of the backpacks, in his other hand he had a hunting rifle.

“Alright kiddos, let’s get out of here,” he shouted.

A sudden crash and boom were heard, followed by shuffling and groans.

“Well that was the barricade in the boiler room,” Kate said.

We all rushed to the entrance and I quickly grabbed a fire axe.

“It’s stuck!”

Pax and Jog tugged on the large handle to the entrance. But it wouldn’t budge. Kate and I stood guard as Harvey tried to help out.

The banging and clambering got louder and louder.

“Anytime is fine, boys!”

Kate shouted. She was pale, anxiously gripping her shotgun.

“I think I’ve got something,” Harvey says and starts rooting through his leather jacket. He pulls out some anti-rust oil. He dumped all the contents on the handle and pushed me towards the entrance.

“Stay back, kiddo. Things are about to get ugly.”

Pax had found a bat and Jo a skateboard. Maybe not the best weapon but it would do.

“When should the handle let up?” Jo asked while shaking.

“I don’t know. But keep trying the handle,” Harvey replied.

The bangs were almost deafening now. The panic started to slowly sink in.

I am going to die here. Forgotten.

Harvey suddenly grabbed my hand. He looked into my eyes with a fiery determination.

“You ain’t gon’ die here, kid! You hear me?”

His accent got thicker as the tensions grew.

Then all hell broke loose. Almost literally. The last barricade broke and in swarmed tens of barely human-looking figures. The stench that followed could best be described as burnt flesh, ammonia, and an almost fruity undertone.

I’m not sure I will be able to drink juice ever again.

The next minutes are a blur. Bodies thunking to the ground. Harvey shouts something while shooting and Pax replies. I go on autopilot after that. Hitting, swinging, and kicking against anything that smelled like a public bathroom. While desperately trying to ignore the bile collecting in my throat and my eyes watering.

Before I knew it, I was on the ground. A large rotting figure on top of me. The only thing separating us was the handle of the axe, currently stuck in the monster’s mouth. Harvey and Kate were swamped. Pax is busy keeping Jo safe as Jo desperately tries to open the entrance. That’s when I finally believe that this is where I’m going to die. The strength in my arm’s veining.

But a gunshot is heard, but it sounds different from before. The figure on top of me slumps. I look up and two people stand at the entrance. One was Mexican with long, dark brown hair separated by half buns and ending in one half-bun, half-ponytail. They had an eyebrow piercing in their left eyebrow and a nosering in their right nostril. They had a pretty dahlia flower tattooed on their neck. It certainly didn’t match their smug expression.

The other person was black. They had dark dreadlocks pulled into a ponytail. They had a blue kerchief tied around their head. A large scar, thicker at the right of their chin and thinning out right under their eye. Their expression was the opposite of the Mexican person's. They were rather stoic.

“We heard you guys, figured you had a pest problem!”

The Mexican person laughed.

TAGLIST

@saltofmercury

[eruherdiriel]

your wip names are all so non-descriptive, I'm so intrigued by them!! I have a love/hate relationship with apocalypse media, so I'm so curious and hesitant to ask about that one... but also x-files AU, right up my alleyyyyyy

(WIP game)

Ah, for the apocalypse one, I was struggling with the threat haha, so I think what I really want to write is a dark roadtrip fic. I haven't touched that one in a while, but looking back, it has some stuff I like.

X-Files AU, my beloved. I don't have much for this, just a paragraph of brainstorming and the very beginning of two scenes. I want to write this, though.

Snippets from both below!

Apocalypse

All he sees is grey and dull brown, day after day after day, and he starts to believe he imagined the color that filled the world during his childhood, before his mother sent him away.

You'll be safer in the North, she'd told him.

Safe from what, Jon had wanted to ask, but he didn't, couldn't, for he knew it would upset her into silence.

The days were awash in color then—his mother's chestnut hair gleaming in the sunlight, father's cheeks ruddy with laughter, the yellow fruit growing from the trees in the yard.

But when the nights came and his parents argued in hushed tones after they believed Jon was asleep, the color seemed to drain away—the blue of his bedroom walls deepening to an abyssal black, the sandy hue of his skin going wan, and the purple of his eyes fading to grey.

....

"What do I call you?" Jon asks.

She hesitates. And then, "Alayne."

Liar. Jon saw her eyes flick to the east like it held her answer, noticed the drag of her lip under her teeth after she spoke.

"What's your name?" she asks.

"Howland." Jon's own lie comes easier, the name of Mother's diminutive friend tucked into his cheek where he'd been saving it. If "Alayne" knows he lied, too, she gives no indication of the fact. Nothing good comes of a stranger knowing your name, not anymore.

....

"You knew well enough to lie about your name but not well enough to not come here in the first place." Seeing her flinch, he adds, "Don't worry, I won't ask who you really are, Alayne."

"Did you lie as well? About your name?'

"Nah. No use in hiding when you're no one of consequence," he says with a grin, but he's not sure the act convinces her this time. She nods slowly.

"Everyone is of consequence to someone," Alayne says softly.

And everyone who ever loved me is dead or lost.

X-Files AU

“The Others are real,” he huffs.

“I'm sure they are,” Sansa says, clenching her fist behind her so she won’t roll her eyes at him. The Others are all children’s stories and old legends, but this is who the Bureau has sent her to work with, a grown man who still believes in fairy tales. Top of my class at the academy and a medical doctor on top of that. Who did I piss off to wind up here?

(She knows who, but it's useless to dwell on now.)

Yet she also knows Jon Snow isn’t an idiot, despite his beliefs. Rumor has it, he went undercover with the wildlings for months, but that operation is still classified. Officially, he is one of the best criminologists in the FBI, but also one of its biggest jokes.

“We’re wasting our time looking for the killer among the Free Folk. Yeah, some of them are thieves and murderers, but it’s usually crimes of opportunity or desperation with them. This was premeditated.”

“What about Mance Rayder?” Sansa watches for some reaction in Snow, but the light wafting into the basement office illuminates only the dust in the air, while Snow stands in the shadow beyond. “Wasn’t he planning some big attack on Castle Black?”

A grunt comes from her partner. “I don’t know about that. But if he was, it would have been a full-scale attack. These are targeted.” Liar, she thinks. So that’s what you were involved with. And if Snow helped foil the attack on Castle Black, it would make sense why the Bureau puts up with his growing obsession with the supernatural.

haha, they both catch each other in a lie in these!