#will i ever escape my self-destructive nature

[lynkss]

why do i always feel so alone even when surrounded by friends

[doumadono]

Douma & period sex - headcanons

Warnings: smut Requested by: anonymous

MASTERLIST

Being with Douma means there are no limits, it means laying all the cards on the table, exposing every secret, confronting the ugly and harsh truth. In his presence, it feels like the world opens up, revealing new possibilities and unexplored territories. With Douma, there is a sense of daring and adventure, a willingness to dive deep into the unknown and embrace the rawness of life ♡

Due to his demonic nature, Douma possesses an exceptional sense of smell, enabling him to accurately detect when you're on your period

Douma has an insatiable desire to create chaos and revels in making messes. He finds pleasure in the sight of blood, whether it's on his own skin or yours. His ultimate satisfaction lies in leaving behind a trail of destruction, where stained and torn sheets serve as evidence of a job well done

In moments when your breasts feel more sensitive or tender, Douma offers gentle relief by softly kneading them for you

On a few occasions, Douma had the experience of possessing you during your period. The heightened wetness and warmth of your pussy seemed to intensify his pleasure, pushing him to the edge faster than ever before

In anticipation of your period, Douma exercises self-restraint by refraining from engaging in sex or masturbation during the preceding week. By doing so, he deliberately builds up desire and eagerly looks forward to indulging himself once your period begins

Douma finds immense pleasure in various aspects of intimacy, including the sensation of your warm walls enveloping his cock. The additional warmth during your period is particularly arousing to him, causing him to shudder with delight each time he fucks you missionary

He humorously compares himself to a tampon 😅

"You feel so fucking incredible, so damn good!" he exclaims, occasionally sinking his teeth into your shoulder, igniting a mix of pleasure and a hint of pain. You find yourself unable to contain your moans, as the sheets bunch up tightly in your hands, your thighs quivering from the powerful rhythm of his thrusts as he takes you doggy style

"Your warmth and tightness drive me insane," Douma grunts, running a hand through your hair before gripping it firmly, pulling it back as he gently bites along your neck. "You're so wet, just look at this beautiful mess," he exclaims, admiring the evidence of your desire and arousal mixed with your period blood dripping down your thighs on the sheets

"Oh, Douma! I'm going to cum!" you moan passionately, your voice echoing through the room as you bury your head into a pillow. "I can't hold on any longer! I wanna cum, baby! Please… Move, for fuck's sake!" you groan, lifting your head to glance back at the towering figure behind you

His hands grip your sides firmly, squeezing your plush flesh, causing him to suck in a sharp breath as he visibly trembles, his chest rising and falling with each movement. "If I move now, I'll reach my climax, and I don't want to do that just yet," he replies, his heated gaze fixed on you, intensifying the sensation as your walls involuntarily tighten around him. "Oh, fuck! There's an incredible amount of blood flowing from your cunt right now!" he exclaims, a hint of excitement in his voice as he withdraws his throbbing cock from your pussy

With a swift movement, he flips you over so that you once again lie on your back, ready for the next phase of your intimate encounter. Douma's tongue delves into your sensitive core, pressing firmly against your walls, while his thumb skillfully rubs circles over your clit - his sole purpose is to bring you pleasure. Douma has a remarkable knack for discovering all the spots on your body that drive you to the brink of madness

You find yourself gripping onto his silver hair again as your hips begin to buck uncontrollably. A whine escapes your lips when he eventually pulls away, leaving you feeling empty and yearning for more. Douma licks his lips and wipes his mouth, cleansing away the traces of your blood

Understanding the need to not keep you waiting, Douma swiftly substitutes his tongue with his throbbing cock, effortlessly sliding it inside you. "Oh, fuck, Y/N. You're dripping wet. My little, fucking lotus!"

Blushing at the sounds his thrusts produce, you raise your hips to meet his movements, biting your lip in a mix of pleasure and anticipation. As you do, you realize that your uterus is beginning to relax, a thought that brings a contented smile to your face

Douma spreads your legs slightly, creating a more comfortable position for smoother entry after he again withdraws. He hooks your legs around his waist, and with deliberate slowness, he pushes his cock inside you

"Fuck!" Douma's breath hitches as he releases himself inside you, panting heavily before collapsing beside you; your mixed cums dripping out of your abused pussy

Your body trembling with pleasure as you cling onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist. The pain that once lingered has now completely dissipated, leaving you in a state of blissful satisfaction

[fireflysummers]

Good Omens S2

Okay so.

Excellent Job, Gaiman

Ouch???

I don't like to publicly talk about my personal life. My academic life is my professional life is my artist life. But my personal life? Not so much, outside of vignettes.

But for the past several months, I've been deconstructing a lot of personal baggage and trauma surrounding both family and religion, after leaving the cult I was raised in (mormonism).

It's terrifying to realize that the framework you built your entire self on is false. It's exhausting and painful to deconstruct that framework, to disentangle your identity in the way that won't destroy you.

And it's slow.

Nobody ever tells you how slow it is to heal. You can't control the rate you heal either. You just have to be patient with yourself, and give yourself an environment where that healing can occur safely and naturally.

Anyways.

Good Omens, and its weird tendency to be exactly what I need when I need it.

I first read Good Omens in high school. And honestly, I didn't quite get it, at the time. I only knew it was different from every other book I've ever read, one that didn't treat religion as stupid or trivial, but also one that called out the blatant hypocrisy and control tactics involved. It helped me safely challenge a status quo I hadn't even realized existed.

I first watched Good Omens partway into my Master's Degree. It was everything that I could've hoped for. I understood the book a lot better, but the TV adaptation captured my struggles with mental dissonance, trying to understand and accept the parts of my identity that I was taught God didn't want.

I watch S2 a year into my doctoral program. I'm out of the cult, and it's exhilarating and painful and scary and fun, but I can still feel the scars its hooks left when they were torn out.

I feel like S2 Aziraphale is in about the same place. He's exploring his freedom, but also trying to reorient himself. He's trying to let himself be. He's healing, but his boundaries got overridden due to circumstances out of his control (naked Gabriel). He's been pulled back into the gravity of the abusive system he tried to escape, given a carrot on a stick, and isn't yet healed or strong enough to resist.

On top of that, Aziraphale is still holding onto the hope that the problem was bad individuals, not a corrupted system. He thinks if the leadership is different, things can change. He thinks if he had more authority in the system, he could make things change. And... that's not how it works.

And Crowley. Dear Crowley.

He wants Aziraphale to be farther along in his healing than he is. Honestly, Aziraphale wants it too. But again, you cannot force this kind of healing, even when it results in a loved one making some truly stupid decisions.

Crowley sees the system for what it is. He's already deconstructed that part. But he hasn't really started addressing his own trauma. He's hinged his entire existence on Aziraphale, on being what Aziraphale needs, that he hasn't allowed himself to heal either. And Aziraphale, who is vulnerable and healing, is not able to provide the support that Crowley would need to recover safely.

Which is why them separating is probably the best thing for both of them.

It won't be permanent.

But they don't communicate, and their relationship while delightful and beautiful risks unhealthy codependency that prevents either from really growing or healing.

Anyways, what I really hope to see next season is Aziraphale's realization that the system never had his back. That the system is what's wrong, and that he can't win by playing at respectability politics or gaining a higher status within it.

I want Aziraphale to get angry.

He deserves it. He's tried so hard. He thinks he's lost Crowley over it.

I want him to feel the gut-wrenching despair of realizing how conditional and fleeting the system's version of love is, and I want it to turn into a rage.

But not a destructive rage--the sort of anger that Pratchett ascribes to himself and many of his works. The sort of anger that fueled Discworld and Good Omens. The sort that can be finessed into a weapon and a shield, that can be used to protect the people who truly love you.

For millennia we see Crowley fighting for Aziraphale.

For Season 3, I want to see Aziraphale fighting for his demon.

For him to apologize, without the expectation that Crowley will come back, but because he was wrong and Crowley needs to know it. To not expect forgiveness, not even think he deserves it.

And then for Crowley--who is trying to hide his heart eyes at seeing his avenging angel coming to save him for once, who he can tell immediately has changed, and is finally going Crowley's speed)--for Crowley to give that forgiveness, without strings attached.

[discowizard88]

Late Musings

Running your hand softly across the sprawl of John’s rarely exposed chest, your hands raised and dipped along the geography of his body. Carefully considering your movements, you repositioned your head to study John’s. Lost to the rare treat of peaceful sleep, he laid still with his arms wrapped around your body in a loose hug that hid their cage-like nature.  

Eyes closed and mouth parted, you could only hear the faint sound of his breathing and feel the ghostly tickle of his exhale on your face. 

You loved him like this: when his brows laid neutral, his lips gentle and free from that sharp smile that always left you feeling uneasy, a rare moment when his body wasn’t covered by his superhero costume and his muscles weren’t constantly tight like a cord waiting to snap. 

It was one of these rare but treasured moments that you could imagine him genuinely contented. He always seemed to melt in the embrace of your affection, and for a time, you thought that was all he needed: genuine care, but with proximity came clarity. He was a black hole, something constantly consuming even when he reached out; he doomed those he grasped to destruction. Having starved too long, he had incarnated desperation for something to fill him without considering the casualties of his voracity. 

However, it was in those little off-beat remarks of self-deprecation and vulnerable musings that left you dangling hope for him. John could never be described as the most self-conscious person, but he was far more self-aware than most believed him to be. He knew something was irrevocably wrong with him.

The little boy that never quite escaped the badroom.

“What are you doing awake this hour?”

Startled from your musing, your gaze meant his hooded blue eyes and lazy smile. Eyes fixed on your own, a warm affection swam in those beautiful blue orbs as they always did for you.

His magnificent sapphire was another thing you loved about him. Eyes that possessed a marveling luminous effect even when deprived of lighting or, in a more hazardous case, John’s lasers. The color was like arctic ice that shifted in its sharpness depending on his given mode. You wouldn’t deny their danger, but perhaps that’s what added to the pair's captivating nature, that at any moment, they could kill but always remained beautiful.

You smile softly, “Just admiring, my love.”

John leaned down to meet your lips, and with a Cheshire smile, he captured and kissed you. You giggled into his lips, and some of you cringed at the schoolgirl thrill that coursed through you. 

You had meant John, as most did when he was on the job as Homelander. 

It was love at first sight, or at least it had been for John.

Pulling back for air, you escaped but not without a playful possessive bit on your lower lip.

You smiled as you ran your tongue over the site of accident while he wore a playful smirk that displayed his upper teeth and vicious canines. 

John held one of your hands and raised them to his lip to trail a series of soft kisses over the palm as he looked at you and you at him. His soft lips danced across your fingertips as his eyes swarmed with a growing intensity that captured you in their magnificent blue once more.

Following no set path, John kissed the knuckles of your hand before skimming his lips down your arm as he pulled you closer into his orbit.

You loved him, and he’d be your doom if you stayed.

He intertwined his legs with your own, and you felt him harden against your thigh.

How could you ever leave.

Thank you so much for reading! Also I am open to The Boys request if anyone has any. Please look at my profile for further details.

[hwajin]

#! — 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧

genre: angst, smut

pairing: hyunjin x fem!chubby!reader

wc: 2.3k

warnings/ note: self destructive thinking, talk of insecurities, struggle with self worth / weight issues! || super in my feels and insecure lately and needed to self indulge so here you go! interpret strawberry skin however you like — i heard it as a term for acne which this fic is inspired by! but whatever you might see it as, this fic is a reminder that you are beautiful and worthy of love no matter what <33

The touch of fingertips on your chin, and you looked up involuntarily, face pulled upward by an exterior force. You would have loved to convert your gaze onto anything other than the reflection of your self in the mirror you were met with, yet Hyunjin didn't possibly give you the chance to back away. The fingers he had placed on your chin steadied you, gave you no other choice than to look back at your own saddened eyes, your own as though defeated posture, at your own reflection that showed such minimum amounts of confidence and love that it scared you, almost.

And for a second you questioned just who made you look like this, who the reason was for those tired bags below your eyes and the tears behind them, who possibly sucked all this life, all this joy out of you? — though questioning was of little use, your passion and urge to self destructiveness nothing easy to overlook.

"You're absolutely gorgeous."

It wasn't a whisper, yet it wasn't a sound of volume, either — Hyunjin rather thought out loud, the words rolling off his toungue and past his lips so easily, so naturally you nearly believed them without second guessing.

"I hope you know that."

His lips found the left side of your head, a gentle kiss planted atop, and your heart squeezed at the gesture. He has always been so soft, so delicate with you — so patient. Another kiss to your side, and then, in the mirror, you saw a frown adorning his features whilst his eyes didn't leave your figure. The frown you hated because you knew what it meant, knew a lecture stood before you.

"You know that, right?"

His voice a whisper now, laced with worry, his hands and fingers never ending to caress your body in the subtlest of ways while awaiting an answer. You hummed, indicating awarness, agreement, yet Hyunjin was visibly not satisfied with that. He locked eyes with you, directly, not through reflections, not through the mirror, and didn't dare to let your gaze go, the look in his eyes an expactant one.

You sighed a heavy breath, the urge to hide and avoid Hyunjins seemingly simple question overtaking your limbs, your body fleeing his touch despite his firm hold on you. He wanted you to say it, you knew of it, he wouldn't be letting go of you until he's heard the word roll past your lip, and in a believing manner, too. There was no use in lying to him, no use to speak words you didn't mean, because he'd look right through you. So you sighed again, rolling your eyes not in annoyance at him but in anger, frustration at yourself. The absurdity of this exact situation repeating every other month called for your patience to run out, made you chuckle out loud. Which earned you another frown of your boyfriend.

"I do know that. I do know that you see me like that. But I can't see it myself. I've told you."

Honest, but not an answer that would satisfy him, you were sure. Because Hyunjin wants you to see yourself the way he does, the way that any other person does and you fail to do. He wants and needs you to believe the words he keeps telling you on repeat, yet not from a superficial point of view but within your heart. He needs to get those affirmations so deeply within you that you can simply never let go of them anymore, ever.

His eyes saddened, minimally, yet they did, and it never failed to ache right at your heart. In those moments, when your body felt a prison you wanted to escape and your mind was a wild chaos you couldn't win control over, you didn't know what you wished for more; for you to simply stop the whining and see yourself with your boyfriend's eyes, or for Hyunjin to simply care less. Because you knew it'd be easier on his own heart, if the sight of you in tears didn't break him as much as it did.

He stood in front of you now, large palms against the flesh of your cheeks, slightly squishing the plush skin of it, protruding your lips. You knew Hyunjin loved the sight of it, loved pinching absolutely every pinchable part of your body, nothing but adoring the softness, the way his finger can poke so deep into plushness — yet that moment, with your mind running leaps and your heart racing in ugly self doubt, you didn't enjoy it. Though you didn't see yourself in the mirror, you hated how you must be looking to Hyunjin, hated that there was plush skin he could pinch, that there was softness he could squeeze. Yet then again, the rational part of you reminded you that it was him who started those antics, Hyunjin who first told you how impossibly adorable he found your cheeks and how much he loved your tummy, proving his words by begging to nap on your stomach more often than not.

And the confusion made you cry. The confusion of knowing you were good enough for your lover, seeing it in his every day actions and words, yet failing to feel good enough for yourself, not understanding what Hyunjin saw every morning he awoke beside you in bed, what possibly made him reach his arms over and hug you close, what caused his hands to roam all over your body and his lips to attach to your own ones or your neck hungrily. Big, heavy tears that have stored themselves behind your eyes for days, droplets of wet that now spilled over and onto Hyunjin's hands that were still holding your face in place. But he didn't mention it, didn't tell you not to cry. Hyunjin's thumbs wiped across your cheeks, drying you off your tears silently. His face was so close to yours you could feel hot breath against your heated skin, could see your reflection in his eyes. You truly looked miserable. Though maybe your eyes were fooling you once again.

"Let me prove it to you then. Until you believe it yourself."

You expected those words, heard them an uncountable amount of times — yet every time he spoke them they left you weak. The tone, the urge that laid within his words, the absolute and pure honesty, impatience almost. It shot right to your core, how utterly serious Hyunjin was about it, how he's genuinenly and truly never understood your struggle with yourself. Because the reassurances, the compliments in the most innocent and unexpected moments and the sinful and needy praises in intimate ones were real to him, didn't hold an ounce of dishonesty in them. He meant every word and never grew tired of saying each of them — that thought alone was bound to weaken you, to already forget a portion of your initial worries. You looked up to Hyunjin through your lashes, wet and glassy, your vision blurred. Though clear enough to see the faint smile on your boyfriends lips, to see, feel him inching closer to you, ridding the two of you off space, and connecting your lips to melt into one. The kiss was watery, your tears mixing in between your mouths, the kiss messier by the second, though neither you nor Hyunjin seemed to mind it. Absentmindetly you were pushed towards the bed, Hyunjin's hands never leaving your body for a second, kneading at your hips and waist, at places he knew you picked on most. You never knew if it was a technique of his, if targeting you at your weaknesses was his way to prove your beauty, or if those parts of you, the ones you hated most often, were simply his favourite ones on you. If there was no technique needed because he was simply fully honest, blunt about you.

You felt the softness of the matress beneath you, felt the cushion sink below your weight before you were pushed until you laid back flat against the bed. Hyunjin did it so swiftly, never breaking the kiss and yet managing to direct you so precisely, so carelessly as if this was all he was ever meant to do. His figure hovering above your own, his body all over yours, caging you in, seemingly never planning to let you go. And then he broke the kiss, for a second only, in which his eyes locked with yours, and it took you by surprise, so much so that a gasp left your lips. He smiled, whispering the softest, quietest 'i love you' before his kiss bitten mouth attached to yours in a peck, wandering down to the plushness of your neck moments after. You made room for him, stretched your head back to give Hyunjin more access, to make him nibble and graze his teeth against spots he knew you adored to bits.

Hyunjin kissed his way down your strawberry skin, as he so lovingly called it, not missing a spot, a mark or scar in the midst. He made sure to pour undying love into each and every time his mouth came in contact with your skin — skin you'd call damaged, ugly, skin he called beautiful, fragile, heavenly, on every occassion possible. When you as far as looked at yourself the wrong way, in the mirror or a passing reflection, Hyunjin as though made it his lifework, his seemingly one and only passion to prove you wrong, to make an attempt, at least, and trying to get you to see yourself through his eyes. He noticed it all, momentarily, when your arduously built wall of seeming confidence began to crumble, began to grow cracks and leaks, daring to break any moment. You could never hide it from him, as much as you tried to have it a problem you wanted to fix yourself — Hyunjin was always faster, more sensible and instictive towards you than you initially thought, and treating you with his highest amounts of patience. It was admireable, truly, loveable, in every sense of the word.

In moments like these, he never needed to say a word. When your whole body was already covered in his traces, wet lips not have missed a spot, when the both of you were nude and so warm against each other already. In moments like these no words were worthy enough to be spoken, Hyunjin's actions showing more than a thousand single letters could ever even begin to fathom. And yet.

"You are so- so damn pretty. So- beautiful."

And yet he did speak, short reassurances, praisings between every heavy breath, between every occassional kiss you shared. Because he couldn't not to, couldn't help to word out what his heart desired to make you feel. His hands on your hips, squeezing at the plush flesh, a heat of what you'd call embarrassment running through your body. Your boyfriend did make a goof job, the best one, at making you feel like the only for him, like he truly belonged with you and no one else. And yet your self doubting never as simply as vanished into thin air. It still lingered in the way you made love to Hyunjin, in the way you kissed and touched him, behaved around him right after. As though a bit unsure, slowly and not as selflessly as you normally did. And Hyunjin sensed it all, knew without you telling him. But he never went as far as to word it out. He kept his perennial patience, waiting for you to rebuild, to mend the cracking wall, to slowly fix the leaks in it; And until you've came that far he wouldn't stop loving you, wouldn't stop telling you, for even a moment.

Your bodies were sweaty, one of Hyunjin's hand on your tummy, a part of you you've always been weary about, and the part Hyunjin adored most. Calling it cute when you were cuddling and sleeping in each others arms, tracing the deep stretch marks that have settled into the skin long ago, and telling you how seductive and alluring it is whenever his hips met yours in rough action, the flesh shaking and jumping a bit with each movement. It drove him crazy, the sight of your bodily softness moving any time you got intimate, always so addicting to watch. And come to think you were most insecure about it, begged him to keep the lights off and a shirt on prior, way earlier in your relationship — it was laughable almost, if it wasn't your hurtful truth.

Desperate moans rolled past your mouth, lips bitten and prone to draw blood if you weren't any more careful. Hyunjin's hands were grabbing, onto anything and everything he could possibly grab. Your thighs that his own one clashed so beautifully against, holding them down, poking his fingers deep into the thickness, eyes glued onto the sight. And his hair was wet as was yours, and on his face a sheet of sweat just like yours, a single droplet falling onto your chest, mixing with your own dampness. Yet, it wasn't fucking. It wasn't even sex, in the sense of it. It was love, purely and entirely, only adoration whole heartedly. From your side as much as from his. And it surely didn't take long for neither of you to tip over the edge, almost simultaneously, to breath in each others exclamations of pleasure and satisfaction, before your bodies collapsed onto each other. Hyunjin laid atop of you, not mustering up the strength to pull out yet, simply relishing to feel you beneath him, to feel every curve and every dip of your body against his so flush, impossibly near and close as if you've melted into one. If he could he'd capture this moment forever, the things he felt and all the words he wanted to tell you, the thoughts that ran through his mind right the moment. Each and every of them about you, and your undying beauty in moments when you were most oblivious to it. Maybe to prove you wrong, or to simply keep this moment as a treasured memory, locked away in his heart and only meant to revisit in the most vulernable times. Yet he couldn't, his abilities, as much as he despised it, only got that far. So he went with the words he could say, though they'd surely never do you justice.

"You're the most beautiful. I love you, forever."

@etherealeeknow @linoskitty @unexceptional-h @rseanne @diue @es-kay-zee @urcracksisx @jeyelleohe @yunkiwii @meloohmel @nyrasneedy @seochhj @spidercomics @chans-starlight @angelwonie @lix-ables @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @sstarryreads @svintsandghosts

[nights-legacy]

Super Sonic Strength - Class 1A x Reader

Requested by @wolfy-58 ~ I hope you like this, and I may actually do another part to this

Class 1A x Reader -- Quirk like Knuckles from Sonic

Masterlist ~ MHA Masterlist ~ #2

• At first, you were scared to use your quirk. So much can happen from one strong hit. When you were a kid, you accidently toppled over a pavilion in your small village.

• You saw your quirk as more of a burden or curse than something that can help people, so you shied away and hid your quirk as best as you could.

• Your parents had somehow convinced you to try out for UA because they were always convincedyou could do something great with your quirk. Begrudgingly, you did and much to your surprise ... You Got In! They were impressed by your quirk and all it entails.

• Fast forward to actually being in class, and you felt like you were walking on pins and needles, not wanting to hurt anyone or damage the campus.

• At the USJ, you got thrown in with Kirishima & Bakugou. You had to use your super strength and blew out the side of the building. You turned to the boys to make sure they're okay. Kirishima was hardened and shielding Bakugou from any debris that had blew their way.

• "That was awesome! Was that at full power?" Kiri  Gushed. I stared at him in shock before shaking my head no. "Really? Damn. That was awesome!" Bakugou only rolled his eyes and made no comments.

• After that, everyone was encouraged to explore your quirk and not be scared of what you can do. I mean, you're at UA, that's what you're here for!!!

• Super strength and natural acrobatics were the parts of your quirk you knew about. Upon exploration, you found out that speed, durability, and climbing were apart of you as well. 

• Midoriya even convinced you to get your quirk reclassified. It was classified as a Sonic body with a basis in Super strength. You had to sit on that to take it in. After that, your classmates helped you learn the new aspects of your quirk.

• Iida for speed. Kirishima for durability. Ojiro for Climbing. Everyone else was helping as well.

• You grow close to Kirishima and Iida. Kirishina is energetic and lively while Iida was calan and collected. They reminded you of your brothers and made you feel comfortable.

• So when they asked for help when Bakugou got kidnapped you immediately said yes. You could see the panic and worry in Kiri's eyes and felt for him. While in the process of rescuing, you found out how far your quirk can go. You had hit the ground so hard that it caused a localized earthquake, causing the villains to be thrown and freeing Bakugou to escape.

• After the move to the doms, you began to worry. After the discovery of being able to create earthquakes, You were scared of accidentally toppling the dorms. It got so bad that you were starting to lose sleep and fall behind. Eventually Bakuyou pulled you aside after hearing Kiri worrying a lot.

• "Sit down." He had pulled me outside and sat me down on the ground. "I'm only doing this because I'm getting annoyed with Shitty Hair's insistent worrying."

• "Okay."

• "You think you're destructive, don't you?" He asked straight out. I was stunned but nodded. Well, join the club. I can create freaking near nuclear explosions from my hands. I'm a walking bomb. There's not much more destructive than that." I nodded but stayed silent. He sighed before moving closer. "What I'm trying to say is that you're not alone and don't let this control you. It will only lead you to spiral. You'll be okay. Let us help.um I mean them. Shitty Hair and glasses."

• "Okay." I smiled. "Thanks, Bakugou."

• "Whatever." He got up and stuck his hands in his pockets, walking away.

• In his own way, Bakugou had helped tremendously. The class was happy when you began to perk up to your normal self again. They brought out the best in you. This class was the best thing that ever happened to you, and you wouldn't trade them for the world.

Tag List: @keigos-baby-bird @lilparcheesie @dxnaii-rxse @iris-shihabi @l0vely-lee

[unrvlybutch]

I believe this to be especially true for TIFs, but I think a large part of thinking transitioning would save my life was due to a deep misunderstanding of what the trans community actually is.

The media portrayal is dissonant to the reality of how rife with depravity and sex-cultism it actually is. The preconceived idea going in is different than what you're going to see once you step foot into trans spaces..Mostly of course due to the TiM autogynophillic side of the equation, but also due to the high concentration of comorbid mental conditions that are frequently displayed and discussed within these circles.

There is a strong emotional aspect that many young women can connect to, that feeling of "you mean I can escape this?" And not having to face sex based oppression is something that resonated with me, the new unwanted male attention, the standards of what it means to become a woman, the performance we're expected not only to conform to but to enjoy. Seeing your friends who were boys change and become distant to you, like strangers. The change is isolating, jarring, and introduces prospects that children weren't made to comprehend. Add a crazy new mix of hormones and preteen angst into the equation and it's a perfect storm.

Trans ideology is such a dangerous thing to discover and the community will never be a safe place for children. It is harmful and self destructive by nature, it inhibits the path of true personal growth in development and masquerades as exactly what it is destructive towards.

I wish I had never learned about the vague concept of "transness." I believe dysphoria is real, I still experience it -- but it does not mean I am male, I am not trapped in my body, I do not have a male soul. I don't feel like a woman because there's no feeling associated with being your biological sex. You just are, it just is.

What I don't understand is how Dysphoria moved away from being a mental illness when it requires destructive, experimental surgeries, hormones, etc. to just get to the baseline of feeling contented in oneself.

But I understand also from firsthand that it is a beast that is never satisfied, I felt but a moment of peace when I got on testosterone and then all the worries about a mastectomy came into mind, but even if I got that...My body would still be so noticeably female...moving onto the next worry, body masculinization surgery -- is that even a thing? I hoped it was..and phalloplasty, and furthermore...but even then, it stands only as a barely passable approximation of what I wanted for myself. And the cost? Impossible.

The dream of transition is not, on a biological scientific and social scale, enough to satisfy dysphoria

I see my dysphoria now as something that exists parasitically alongside myself, it lives in the same space in my mind as my anorexia did -- both of those two things are something I fear I will never be free from in thought, but I strive everyday to put them away in order to live a healthy life. The difference in my treatment between those two mental illnesses was drastic. One landed me several times inpatient against my will, one was coddled and affirmed by every therapist I've ever had. I do not have to make the discernment of which one that was. They did not give me appetite suppressants for my anorexia, they did not give me weight loss surgery, they did not say that being emaciated and ill was really just who I was always meant to be. But, both impact my quality of life equally. Both have lead me to self destruct, self hate, ruminate on my insecurities and become obsessive over the parts of myself that I really could not change.

I don't know. These are just some thoughts I've been having.

[justanotherlonelywritersblog]

My Everlasting Muse pt.1

Harry styles x OC

Warnings: 18+ Drugs, smoking, alcohol, mature content, swearing

Meeting someone who is irrevocably, unapologetically themselves is near impossible these days. 

There was a point in my life where I was stuck in a tsunami of grief, with waves of hidden agendas and vendettas constantly crashing against me. Never knowing which friend would be the next to betray me, or which camera would snap a picture of my walking corpse, or which news outlet would pay the prettiest dime for a glimpse of my remains. Hollywood breeds trust issues and kills the most beautiful minds. All because they had a dream, they once thought was worth pursuing. 

Growing up the idea of music and having a career in it sounded magical. So unbelievably naive, I studied every vinyl, witnessed as many concerts as I could, and sang until my vocal cords went raw. And when the opportunity planted itself in front of me, I leaped across the ocean with hopes and dreams and ended up landing in the viper's den. And as the tickets sold, and my voice was heard across the world I learned to hate what I once used to adore. And as the stadiums roared, and the music played, my interest in cocaine and booze increased every day. 

The family and friends I used to hang out with every Sunday, no longer heard from me. Getting their updates on my life with the rest of the world, through tabloids and news stations. The claws of Hollywood were digging into me, indulging every night, waking up to a groupie every morning, and feeling lost in the process of creation. I sang words of love and ambition but was experiencing none of those feelings. On the outside, I was the epitome of coming from nothing and making a real name for yourself. But was it worth sacrificing everything and everyone I've ever known? Well, I don't know. 

I was drowning and quickly sinking further down a whole of scandals and self-destruction, not knowing who to ask or how to ask for help, when everyone around me is in the same sinking boat as I am. I wrote a song when I was younger, it's the reason I have the fortune I do now, it was about how love can save you from the darkest of things. But I didn't know at the time, that even love couldn't save you from yourself. 

Or at least I thought so. 

A girl with eyes of salt, and an annoyingly positive personality somehow swam onto my sinking ship and rescued me from the wreck that was myself. I didn't think it was possible. A girl I once detested and hated everything she stood for, who was irrevocably and unapologetically herself, became my everlasting muse.

And honestly, I wouldn't want it any other way. 

..............

Love is ironic.

It's magnetizing because it can elicit happiness, but it can also elicit pain. For it is the pain that reminds you of how truly connected you are to the person you fell in love with. 

I wasn't always so unapologetically me. 

There was a time in my life when I would sit under the stars and pray to anything, anyone up there, to give me a sign that I wasn't broken, that I wasn't unlovable, and that there was someone out there who would reassure me that I wasn't a freak of nature. Growing up in a home where shouting was the courtesy, and broken bottles were normal, it made sense I clang to the first person who showed me a sliver of love. So entrapped in the appeal of being in love, I naively went from one traumatic home to another. 

A voice that used to be gentle, now reflected my father's. Deep and intoxicated, staggering around our home with shoves and the occasional fist to my face. Isolated and a million miles away from everything I've ever known, I became trapped in this cycle of intoxication and abuse that I so badly wanted to escape.

 I was repeating my mother's mistakes.

 And the day I realized that I left in a raggedy zeppelin t-shirt, with blood-soaked hands and never looked back.

Starting over in a new city, with a new name and a new goal in life. 

Just be me. 

I wanted to determine my own fate, my own decisions, my own passions. I was over letting people walk over me and being confined to their ideas of what I should be. 

However, I never expected this new chapter in my life to end up unraveling like it did. 

Booze, regrets, parties, and cigarettes. 

I guess the trauma was resurfacing through self-deprecating behavior. But I'm not shaming my past mistakes, for it ended up leading to my savior. He was older, and his aura pulsed trouble. He didn't have to carry himself; his name did all the work for him. His brooding nature, and downright miserable attitude made me want to be the positive one for once. 

I knew the logical thing was to ignore him. I knew who he was, I knew the danger that surrounded him, and the spotlight that followed him. I should've left him and never looked back, as I had done in my past life. However, there was something magnetic pulling me towards him. Maybe it was the universe, maybe it was just luck how we always ended up in the same place and the same time. 

I became his anchor; he became my life. 

I never thought I'd be known as Harry Style's everlasting muse. 

But honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. 

............

pt. 2 here

A/N: ahhhhhh i'm so excited!! Let me know what you think so far! This is my first fan fic so please be nice lol

A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you enjoy reading this! Updates will come as soon as I can! I'm so excited about this story, let me know what you think so far! 

[sankatsuka]

Shinsuke Takasugi Character Discussion PART 2 - Putting a Name to the Irrationality, that is Love

A continuation of Part 1. Be sure to read that first and the warnings if you're interested! Heavy, I say HEAVY Takagin.

To further nail in how important Gintoki is to Takasugi as a reason to live, what wakes Takasugi up from his coma is Matako's tears. Her tears reminded him of hazy memories of the sky crying, how those tears were coming from someone who was trying to be strong, and he hates it. Because of that, he has to wake up, live and do something about it.

And in his dying breath we hear at his most honest that Gintoki's tears have haunted him all this time. Pretty much implying the above monologue was about Gintoki's tears.

(This was probably my favourite moment in Gintama ever. This is probably the first time someone wanted Gintoki to smile, and not Gintoki fighting for someone else's smile.)

It isn't only about wanting to win against Gintoki. It's also about wanting him to be happy, and to not have to suffer all alone. Takasugi's form of love may have taken the form of power first due to his violent upbringing, but the more time they spent together being just humans, that love probably became more human too, morphing into what love really is. Wanting your loved one to be happy, and to be the closest to their everything, whether it be their happiness or their suffering.

And once again, on Rakuyo, as if to nail it in isn't Shoyo he was obsessed with but Gintoki - Takasugi displays an unwavering determination to kill Utsuro because he created this rotten world (hint: that made Gintoki cry). He is easily able to separate Shoyo and Utsuro, unlike Oboro. Even though Shoyo gave his life up for Takasugi to live, and Takasugi should have felt as responsible and guilty for it as Oboro does about his own sin.

Back to their clash in Iga - if you've forgotten, my interpretation here was Takasugi begging an answer for his irrationality of choosing Gintoki over Shoyo. After calling Takasugi out for projecting when he wasn't the one who killed Shoyo in the first place, Gintoki clarifies why he made the 'choice', that it wasn't a choice in the first place but something he was doing out of duty as a student of Shoka Sonjuku. This reinforces how his actions still follow Shoka Sonjuku's principles, and stating the obvious shows how Gintoki can see that Takasugi was afraid of losing his place in Shoka Sonjuku because of his irrationality. Gintoki allows Takasugi to escape from that irrationality by spelling out his own reasons to him. Seeing a rational, honourable reason for Takasugi to be 'chosen' over all the corpses they ran over for Shoyo, Takasugi can finally say "I haven't been expelled, after all" in relief. Because he would have chosen Gintoki over Shoyo, too, and it can be rationalized.

Instead of dragging out and accepting those emotions as Takasugi's path the same way Shoyo would have done, Gintoki does what he knows best - straightforwardly taking on Takasugi's anger and making it about himself. This manages to quell Takasugi's anger at himself, his irrationality, by letting him escape through Gintoki's more honourable reasoning for choosing him, and this peels the fake layer off Takasugi: not being able to forgive himself for irrationally choosing Gintoki over Shoyo.

It is only through Kiheitai that Takasugi finds the true skin that is his true self: an undying, strong love to live for one person. Because Takasugi never grew up with a loving family, the concept of love never came naturally to him. Now that Gintoki has lifted the confusion that blinded him and threatened to take his home in Shoka Sonjuku away, the world becomes clearer to Takasugi - just exactly what it was he was angry at the world for (hint: Gintoki's tears). As Bansai remarks on the look on Takasugi's face after Gintoki's words in Iga:

And with those eyes more focused on the present and the true anger that drives him to destruction, he finally notices how blindly Kiheitai clings to a leader who couldn't actually do anything for them, who simply enticed them with sweet words that came from a place of nihilistic destruction and gave them a delusion of certainty. How raking up their corpses in his fit of despair and rage only increased the burden on Takasugi's shoulders, because this isn't what he wanted. He wanted destruction, but it was as the solution to the tragedy he had to witness, to forgive himself for betraying his ideals and to quell the anger he couldn't put a name to (hint: at himself and Gintoki's tears). Instead, his actions only led to more demise and tragedy. Now that the self-hatred he directed at Gintoki was gone, Takasugi was fighting with the anger he couldn't place a finger on, and with such ambiguity, the burden of these corpses become too heavy for him to bear. But Kiheitai's unwavering loyalty at a pathetic, terrible person like him is what pushes him forward, for their sake, and all these piled up emotions make him realize too late--

--He had always been running away from himself. The loyalty Kiheitai he thought was only reserved for the Takasugi who gathered them together with his charisma, stayed on even for the Takasugi who lost sight of a purpose. There was something even the Takasugi had that keeps people spurring on - just being him - and because these people clearly loved him, he wanted to respond.

Now that he was properly attuned to the emotions of the people in his present, it grants him a clarity of mind to face the past as a human too, not as a detached hero focused on achieving a single goal for a delusion of certainty. This is his true battlefield, as much as it is Enshou's.

What he wanted as a hero would have been to save Shoyo for Gintoki and everyone's sake. But what he wanted as human, all this time, was to be the closest to the person most precious to him, the person who gave him a reason to live in a world that meant nothing to him--Gintoki. Just like how he gave Kiheitai a reason to live.

And his anger to destroy the world all came from his anger at witnessing Gintoki's tears. Not Shoyo's death, not Gintoki's irrationality--the anger was all born from his own powerlessness at not being able to do anything for that mysterious cloudy sky. He already never understood Gintoki's burden and pain as a child, and that distance between them only grows and grows. Gintoki was now more alone than ever, and Takasugi was running away from his desire to keep chasing after him and be there for him, because it felt like there was no longer a way to do that anymore. At the start, Takasugi could focus on Shoyo and protecting him to feel close to Gintoki, but now that he was gone, it felt like there was nothing he could do to be closer to Gintoki's heart anymore. Even if Gintoki has found a 'place' in Edo, it didn't mean the man crying from the past, whose stupid face was etched into his left eye, had stopped suffering. The pain was still there, yet Gintoki lives as if it never existed and surrounds himself with the comfortable smiles and laughter which that broken man could never possibly muster. It was too unfair. To that unfair world, Takasugi wished to destroy it all.

But now that Takasugi knows he just wants Gintoki to not suffer alone, he can think clearer. What it is that he has to do and see through till the end. How he wants to protect what Gintoki cherishes - just like he was focused on Shoyo in the past, but this time also facing the man Gintoki Sakata truly is: an idiot who loves the world no matter how much it hurt him. So, Takasugi uses himself to get rid of Utsuro to protect the world Gintoki loves, and through that, stopping him from having to point a sword at Shoyo ever again.

On Takasugi's deathbed, these feelings clearly reach Gintoki. This time, Gintoki wasn't cutting someone down to protect things others held dear - he was cutting someone down because that someone wanted to protect the things Gintoki held dear. (edit: gintoki only realizes this after takasugi admits it was for him, though)

Even though both Shoyo and Takasugi smile at Gintoki before he cuts them down, Gintoki can only smile back at Shoyo, but isn't able to muster that smile with Takasugi.

Takasugi's feelings to be by Gintoki's side are reciprocated just as much by Gintoki. It's just that Gintoki can't express it, because he has lived his life finding meaning in protecting others. To the point that even his decision to cut Shoyo down wasn't from a place of emotional attachment, but rather wanting to protect what Shoyo held dear. This is why Gintoki isn't as burdened by his emotions and self-hatred as Takasugi is, because he lives on through the emotions of other people who love him. That is his purpose of living, as someone who was born with nothing from the start and had to survive on his own with no future in sight by scavenging. It was people that filled his empty heart that he was born with.

But the person who filled it the most was undoubtedly Takasugi before Yorozuya came along. Takasugi was chasing after that void of a human more than anyone. Always wanting to win against him, no matter how much Gintoki beat him down. As much as the words 'come back tomorrow' were important to Takasugi, those words were just as important to Gintoki. Shoyo was home, but just like Otose is home now for Gintoki - both of them were the guiding figures who led him to find a forever place to belong - Takasugi and Yorozuya, both of whom will be chasing him forever. No matter how far he grows from them and himself by devoting himself to protecting people. Like how parents are home to their children, but it is that unconditional loving, safe home that lets children grow and find the love that will be their purpose of living.

Gintoki can smile cutting down Shoyo because he knows he would have successfully protected what Shoyo held dear. Cutting down Takasugi on the other hand, wasn't protecting anything. There was no reason for Takasugi to do this - he could have just died peacefully, knowing very well Gintoki would definitely kill Utsuro and protect Kiheitai in his stead no matter what. But this steadfast idiot still had to come along and die by his hands. He could've just died out of his sight, damn it.

And then he admits, he couldn't leave Gintoki alone to suffer on his own again. Takasugi coming back to life and dying was all to make sure Gintoki wouldn't have to suffer too much by killing his teacher again while protecting the world as Gintoki wants to.

If Gintoki didn't care for having Takasugi by his side to the same extent, I personally think Gintoki would have just been more angry that he had to cruelly cut down someone whose feelings and motivations weren't returned. Takasugi could have done this for someone else's sake like Kiheitai, not him, and it'd have been requited love - but no. Gintoki doesn't even think of these things because it's requited between them. Gintoki wants Takasugi to get closer to his true, empty heart. One of his biggest happinesses was just being with Takasugi after all, as he says himself--

But this idiot had to go and get himself be killed by Gintoki. Yet Gintoki smiles, because those feelings from Takasugi were as clear as day - for Gintoki to not suffer alone, to be happy as always, and Gintoki had to respond to that as he always does to all of Takasugi's challenges.

Although the person who was probably closest to Gintoki than anyone was gone, Takasugi's death was probably what made the most peace with the suffering Gintoki has gone through until now and reached the far away Gintoki more than anyone ever could. Especially because it ended in his death, Takasugi showed Gintoki how adamant he was that Gintoki didn't suffer alone, how important it is to him that Gintoki is happy. Edo accepts and loves the Gintoki in the present as he is, but it is Takasugi, Shinpachi and Kagura who chase and love Gintoki as a whole. Takasugi's choice to sacrifice himself conveyed how it was important to someone in this world that Gintoki was wholly happy. If the past hurts, it hurts, but because Gintoki refuses to share the burden with anyone else and simply keep living protecting the present, Takasugi will selfishly share Gintoki's burden and protect his happiness as a whole.

I think this ending was such a perfect wrap for Gintama and Gintoki's character arc, giving so much closure to the heavy past he carries on his shoulders through pure, obsessive love that was sloppily conveyed. The sloppy nature of it is befitting for Gintama.

Although death scenes are sad, I thought Takasugi's death scene was the only possible moment of happiness for two idiots who couldn't express their emotions well. Both are satisfied - Takasugi being able to finally do something for the person he loves, Gintoki being loved by someone who is no longer living through him but is his own person now. No more cryptic talk about alter-egos, the you who is me - just stop making that stupid face, I won't let you run away again, wait for me in hell.

This was really difficult to write and explain, but for now this is what makes sense to me about Takasugi and his relationship with Gintoki. I'm still keeping my eyes peeled for an alternative interpretation, because the relationship between two men can't possibly be this romantically implied in a Shounen Jump series. I'll be sure share any future interpretations I can come up with as I rewatch the show again, because it really is a bold, weird move to base someone's character entirely on love lol.

[averseunhinged]

wip wednesday let's goooooooooooo

one of the things i've been working on lately is stitching together the various versions of i never said i had the answer, which i completely fucked up and have had to cut over 80k words. this is sort of the new rough version of a thing i already posted with added other stuff. i'm gonna try to link to the previous bits that are still part of it. if you're confused, don't worry. i'm confused too.

24/7 sylvia plath

snippet 1 of insihta

snippet 2 of insihta

snippet 3 of insihta

snippet 4 of insihta

very short snippet 5 of insihta

He'd thought, if he was the one to do it, it would bring him some measure of relief. She would be gone, excised like necrotic tissue, and he would be free to return to his previous state. But he realized, hunched in on himself with his brother's corpse and the rapidly deteriorating girl, he would never escape them. Another brother whose death he'd caused. Another woman who would be better off without him.

He could not murder someone else he loved.

She wasn't gentle. Not even on her deathbed. She would never beg him to save her. Not the way Tyler had. Klaus had been reminded then of the first time he'd had any real contact with her. She'd been a snarling, spitting, hissing creature, ordering Tyler not to take the doppelganger's blood, even though it was his only chance to live. And he almost hadn't. Klaus had seen the hesitation in the boy, his desire to follow his girlfriend's orders, even if it meant his own death. He'd trusted her, her passion and guidance. 

The only thought he'd had of her then was how he might use the couple against each other. She'd been nothing, a pretty face in a town full of pretty faces, until he'd begun investigating her utility and realized she'd positioned herself as Tyler's alpha without meaning to. Klaus had barely needed the sire bond to nudge Tyler into revealing everything. He'd been eager to tell of her virtues. How she'd taken control of him when he couldn't do it himself. Explained the little she'd known, despite being ordered to the contrary by the Salvatores. She'd stayed by his side throughout the agony of his first full moon, in spite of the danger to herself. Wept for him and held him while he writhed, the only succor throughout hours of cursed torment. 

The more he'd learned of her, the more his thoughts turned to her potentiality. His first turned hybrid, formed and shaped by a vampire lover who was precisely the correct combination of compassionate and despotic. If he could have swayed her, appealed to her natural inclination to both protect and control, he'd have had the perfect captain for his army.

Of course, he'd then gone head-to-head with Stefan and lost his temper. Thought himself so far above his old friend, whose heart bled him of his sanity. What a fool Klaus had been, thinking himself immune. Perhaps, it had been self-preservation, even more than he'd realized, when he'd ordered Tyler to bite her. 

"So, you–what? You can't promise that. You have whims! And the worst temper ever."

"Because I can't!" He set the cup in his hand down before he could give into the urge to throw it. To cause some manner of satisfying destruction. "Once. In over a thousand years, I have turned off my humanity one time, when Katerina escaped and I failed to break my curse. Do you understand that?"

By the frown on her face and the furrow in her brow, he knew she did not. "But I thought only younger vampires could turn it off."

"Yes," he agreed. "Typically. The older the vampire, the more difficult the process, buried as the original superego becomes under time. It requires an extraordinary set of circumstances. Despair beyond reckoning. A near complete loss of hope. Of self, even."

"No," she denied, shaking her head. "You wouldn't have."

There were moments when he cursed her cleverness, her unwitting insightfulness. Even when he led her there, her knowing of him was still an uncomfortable ache. 

"I would have."

"You wouldn't! Not over me."

"Yes," he insisted. "I would. It was already coming. I could feel it. A creeping chill of the spirit. As you faded, the numbness spread. Like hypothermia. I've nothing left to look forward to. That's the truth. For a thousand years, I had a mission. Protect my family. Break my curse. Build my army. Kill my father. Straightforward, really, for all its complications. And now I'm done. It's all resolved itself one way or another, for good or ill. What else is there for me?"

"You can't make me your only reason to go on." Her hands flexed between them, as though she wanted to grab him and shake the foolishness out of him. "People can't be that for each other. I'm just me! I'm not– it's not supposed to work like that."

"Why shouldn't it? We're not people, Caroline. We're monsters carved from our mortality. In time, I will find new endeavors. There will be more threats, more enemies to sink my teeth into. But for now?" Klaus leaned towards her, looming despite their similar heights. Her eyes were wide, reflexive breaths coming shorter in her agitation, but he did not stop, as merciless in this as she had ever been with him. "You wanted to understand why you no longer fear for yourself. Instinct. It's as simple as that. The monster inside knows there is an even more terrible creature here to protect you, even from itself." He lifted his hand to her face and hovered above her temple, wanting to memorize her--the shape of her eyes, the line of her delicate nose, the cut of her stubborn chin--with his fingertips, and when she did not flinch away, let himself have the pleasure of touching her hair and brushing his thumb along her cheekbone. "You will not end. I will not allow it."

She took his wrist and squeezed it hard enough to grind the bones together, the pain a distant thing, an anchor well below the waves, tying him to her, to there and then. Rested her opposite hand on his chest, over his heart, where it ran with a wolf's blood, digging like she might reach in and touch it, grip it in her strong, capable fingers.

If she wanted his heart, she could have it. She could take it, if that was what she needed. He would let her try.

"They forget," she whispered, a secret between them, "how old you are. They see this face and it makes them forget. Even Stefan does and he should know better by now.”

He told her they were the same, had known it since she told him to go to hell, as much as she could manage, anyway, and sank her teeth into his arm. He hadn't dripped imperious blood into her mouth as he stood above her. Hadn't even looked for a glass. The second time she needed his blood, the sheer perversion of the act was compounded by an added element of narcissism he hadn't quite noticed the first time. It was there, though. Would she think him mad if he told her killing her felt like killing himself? Her murder was his suicide.

"I don't,” she continued. “I never have. Not once. I always remember. Even when I'm playing everyone's favorite distraction. Even when you're playing awkward and charming.” She leaned in even closer, still holding him against her cheek, the palm between them trapped by their combined weight, her searchlight eyes so near his own, but infinitely more brilliant. “But I really need you to stop being so weird about this.”

[honestlyvan]

Babe, I'm so intrigued by the Crime Slime who would die before breaking character and the Furry Genius who is good at everything he does, tell me more about them

They make me SO UNWELL, BARBIE.

I'll try avoid turning this into an essay on both of them separately (I've done my due diligence introducing both of them over here), but I do need to discuss character and role a little bit, because the way Dendro is explicitly a roleplaying game contributes a lot to the relationship between Shu and Sechs.

Or, well, Dendro can be played as just an action dungeon crawler action game, and there are quite a few key cast members who are "ludo", but because of the intense fidelity of the world of Dendro, most people end up at least somewhat engaged with "the plot" ie. the politics of the world, even as just the backdrop for the game. Neither Shu nor Sechs are that hardcore, but both of their actions make more sense "in-character" than they do out of it. Shu Starling (as compared to Shuichi Mukudori) and Sechs Würfel (as compared to his unnamed player) are in conflict because of the context of the world surrounding them, and their roles in the story.

So, what are those roles? Shu, obviously, is one of the Big Three of Altar, one of their most powerful and decorated. All told, he seems like a bit of a wild card, genuinely just playing Dendro for fun, and emphasises the for-fun nature of his playing when discussing the game with other Masters. Altogether, Shu really seems to be playing Dendro as a form of light escapism, another go at a "normal" life -- he jokes about being shy, and before the beginning of the story, had in fact been extremely well hiding the identity of King of Destruction from the broader playerbase, not wanting to deal with the hassle of being chased around by challengers.

He's "a hero", yes, technically, but honestly it very much seems like Shu himself doesn't seem to really care for that designation, and is consistent about how he only really does things he wants to, and is largely unconcerned about what his reputation is like. And despite that, he's ended up involved in damn near every big incident in the kingdom since he began playing, being ultimately the kind of good-natured and kind person who doesn't like leaving people in a lurch if he can do something to help them.

Because despite being fate's favourite middle child, Shuichi Mukudori is... kind of just a dude? Like, he's a rich NEET who pretty much just exercises and plays video games and doesn't seem to have any greater aspirations than to have a good time -- frustrating his parents, sure, but not really causing trouble for anyone. At worst, Shu is a bit of a sneaky shithead, and seems to have some resistance towards being relied on by other people, but it never rises to the level of refusing to help out of spite, and his strong sense of ethics and general kindness are clearly very typical for him, as we see his little brother Reiji being largely unfazed by Shu's big-dealness, sort of shrugging and going "yeah, what I expected from you, bro"

In fact, I feel like Ray's generally high self-esteem further speaks well of Shu. He's attentive without ever being overprotective, and their shared disposition towards never allowing their doubts to stop them from trying being something Ray explicitly learned from Shu. Shu portrays himself as more avoidant and passive than he actually is, even his discomfort with people explicitly relying on him, to me, reads more as trying to avoid having a cooling effect on other people's efforts. He doesn't like complacency, in himself or in other people, and in general tends towards cultivating strong, positive relationships with everyone he interacts with. He is, for all he can be a bit opaque, generally in a good place in his life.

Sechs, in contrast, uh. Very much isn't. He is essentially a hostage of his own family -- adopted in to literally replace and take on the identity of their dead eldest son, and isolated from the outside world until he manages to either convincingly pass as that son, or maybe just until the family finds a wife for him to have an heir with. Even before going through a stranger literally dying to give him the life he's currently living, he didn't have many prospects, and as a result doesn't feel any greater attachment to his previous or his current identity, pretty much just seeing himself as a piece of meat for other people to use for their aspirations. It's very bleak, and it has understandably had a crushing effect on his sense of self-worth.

And while Sechs didn't really have a solid reason to roll a villain character, basically deciding on a whim to play one, his ability to choose and to pursue actions congruent with that choice is some of the only freedom he has had in his life. "Sechs Würfel" is the only identity he's ever had that is self-authored, the only thing he truly believes belongs to him. Problem is, he's so bad at figuring out what to actually do with the agency and freedom this new identity grants him that he hard-commits into the mechanical validation the game system gives him, so pretty much the only things that matter for Sechs are the "sins" he commits -- everything else, everything that demonstrates that he is, honestly, a bit sideways but ultimately good-natured, is relegated to non-actions that bear no relation to his "self".

Let me reiterate for clarity -- Sechs is neither a sadist nor a sociopath. My distinct impression is that just like Shu, he has a very strong innate sense of right and wrong, but any ability for him to express or act on that sense of right and wrong has been systematically abused out of him. In fact, it's a little unlucky how well "villainy" works out for Sechs -- he can make his decisions based, essentially, on inverse utilitarianism, looking to cause the maximum amount of harm to the maximum amount of people, and thus avoiding any cognitive dissonance between his moral intuition and his professed reasoning, letting him suspend the need to self-examine about why he's doing anything indefinitely.

Sechs even argues that being a villain makes it easier for him to be friends with "someone like" Shu, because it allows him to essentially reconfigure his morality on the fly to rules-lawyer opportunities for him to work with Shu towards a common goal. But deciding to live a life in Dendro where everything he does either takes things by force or cheat others out of them doesn't leave any space for him to just... have relationships, to be non-transactional or to show kindness back when its shown to him, without "breaking character", without wasting his opportunity for self-expression. It's the only language he speaks, so to speak.

(And incredibly luckily for Sechs, as far as the game is concerned, the only people he can "sin" against in a mechanically demonstrable way are tians -- because crimes against Masters don't count, he never has incentives to hurt any real people. After all, as far as anyone knows the tians are just extremely advanced AI NPCs... right? )

So, we have Shu who is characterised by his refusal to limit himself, using his personal freedom strictly within the limits of his own ethics, and we have Sechs who is almost entirely defined by his limitations, using other people's ethics as scaffolding to explore his personal freedom. It makes perfect sense for Sechs to literally never shut up about Shu, to be absolutely obsessed with a kind of wholeness of identity Sechs desperately desires for himself, too, to admire him and to feel envious and to be literally attracted to him like a wilting flower turning to the sun. Shu is the strongest possible scaffold for Sechs to measure his own actions against.

They really are well-matched... and they are diametrically opposed within the diegesis of the game world because of the roles their behaviour has created for them within the narrative of Dendro. Which, y'know, works great for Sechs who honestly probably needs to adhere to his prescribed identity, who is still just learning what to do with all of the freedom he's been denied all his life, and sucks for Shu, who really did not sign up to have a damn archenemy and really, truly, just wants to have fun.

And the situation is not helped by the fact that Sechs high-key doesn't know what the fuck he's feeling about Shu, either. The vibe is very "I don't know how to flirt with him, so he has to die". Sechs' concept of Shu as a person is an extension of the narrative role he has within their interactions with each other, as a challenge to be overcome, as the hero to strike down. And in the process, Sechs either loses sight or never realises in the first place that Shu just.... isn't playing a character and just is like that because he is like that.

Except... Shu is playing a character. Shu Starling is literally a character played by Shuichi Mukudori.

So, like. Shu clearly gets it, but he's not happy about it. I am extremely emotionally compromised about the circumstances around their duel in general, but one of the most striking things about it is how hurt Shu seems over the whole thing. Like, he's holding both of those feelings in his head at once, both embracing Sechs' telling of the story and his place in it (he literally calls the letter of challenge a "love letter") and also being frustrated because he thought he'd made it clear that whatever it is that is between them was something different.

Because the character he is playing, the level he is meeting Sechs at isn't Shu Starling, King of Destruction. It's also Shu Starling, ascended joke character, Shu Starling, excellent cook, Shu Starling, professional slacker. He's in a similar position as Sechs, he's performing an identity that he is not able to embody in real life where he's marked by his fame and talent. And at the time of their duel, Sechs clearly wasn't able to meet him on that level, as two people playing a game together, within a shared narrative, and Shu gets that and he's so annoyed by it, because he wants them to be friends.

Unlike Sechs, whose isolation is clear and unambigous in the text, Shu's isolation from having a normal life is more in the subtext. And unlike Sechs, who has to deal with his mental dissonance and whose struggle to live as a whole entire person within his assumed identity is front and center, Shu's needs are backgrounded, and he's not telling on himself.

It's so easy to read almost a tone of betrayal to the way their duel in volume 18 plays out, except Shu is explicit about the fact that he likes Sechs. You can practically feel the fond aggravation of Shu going "I'm right here, dummy, you can just ask" when Sechs is talking about struggling to understand him. Shu, truly, wants to see him again, and wants him to... get better. Become happier. Find himself, so he can actually meet Shu where he's at.

The chemistry these two have is frankly incredible. Sechs, already, is set up for an incredibly compelling journey of self-discovery through the power of having friends for once in his life, but I was a fan of Shu first, and thus I am completely weak in the face of someone seeing right through him, not understanding what they see, and Shu liking them enough to actually bother explaining himself.

I love a villain who is obsessed with their own villainy in contrast with the hero, I was pretty much always gonna be extremely unhinged about Sechs' very blatant crush on Shu, but the flavour is really contained in how flatly unintimidated by Sechs' obsession Shu is, how much he likes him despite that and even, maybe, because deep down Shu also just wants to be known and seen. Sometimes the stranger who only knows us through our roles knows us better than anyone else.

[mrmissmrsrandom]

Sumeragi Subaru

Ohhh excellent yes my boy.

send me a character and i’ll list:

favorite thing about them: Just how kind he is. Despite everything, even later under all his trauma and depression, he is still kind.

least favorite thing about them: THAT LACK OF SELF-PRESERVATION. BUDDY I KNOW ITS THE 90s THE STATE OF MENTAL HEALTH IS A PIT, BUT YOU'RE RICH GET A THERAPIST PLEASE.

favorite line: I don't have my darkhorse volumes with me (gathering the new Yen Press Release but only have the first 2 volumes, so this is from volume 2)-- "No one can change the past. No matter how hard we try, time won't reverse. But the future? Only you, Mitsuki-san, can change your future." The "Dream" chapter had a big impact on me when I read it, even if I don't 'agree' with all of the points Subaru makes in that discussion, having him try to center someone on the here and now and reassuring them that they have a choice is powerful. Most of my favorite lines from him are in Tokyo Babylon because I haven't read Tsubasa, and he is more quiet in X.

brOTP: Hokuto-chan. His twin, his sister. ;; Maybe catching up in a what if scenario with him catching up with Hashimoto (the girl who loses her eye, wow the theming!) post-series or even post-X if you imagine all of humanity doesn't die.

OTP: I think at this point its him and Kamui. I'm not saying in that its "better" than him with Seishirou, just that the concept of them interacting based on how they interact in X is more compelling now to me. We never get to see/fully imagine (unless you write fic, which yay! Love that!) Subaru and Seishirou interacting with the full knowledge of who the other is/on an even playing field without The End of Tokyo Babylon. I like everything that is built up and in the end, Subaru did not fall in love with the facade Seishirou put up, but him for him (and then Seishirou never QUITE gets there, so we get -points at X- bozo was too focused on winning The Bet he made with a fucking third grader). SO, back to him and Kamui: they just feel like they get each other in a way no one else seems to, and that adding into the sadness of their bond (understanding but being unable/deciding not to convince the other away from a destructive path). How Subaru tries to be there for Kamui once he officially joins the other Dragons, from speaking with him or helping with homework. Their relationship, if/when we ever get a finale to the manga X (or if you just think about it), feels like the most likely to grow and build into something by the end for me. And hey, both of them have Seishirou and Fuuma as foils/'twin stars', but guess which out of the four get reincarnated as VAMPIRE TWINS in Tsubasa? Subaru and Kamui! Something something soulmates getting reborn together/commentary on Hokuto escaping the wheel of fate but these two boys are still thoroughly In It: but imagining them together makes it feel hopeful. :)

nOTP: Uh, I do not necessarily see him ever being romantically interested in women. So I guess him in a romantic relationship with a woman.

random headcanon: Post-Tokyo Babylon Subaru ends up calling every number in Hokuto's phone book to give away her clothes to friends, but months down the line he gets an unlisted call from the friend she makes in "Smile." They meet up, and Subaru has to tell her what happened, and her trying to smile for him and comfort him, causing him to break down from it, but it also somewhat brings him out of the haze of vengeance he had been in and return to like, eating regularly. Though, after that meeting he also picks up his first pack of cigarettes.

unpopular opinion: Subaru does not naturally come by fashion. He's cute and let Hokuto dress him up. I don't think that's "unpopular," but also by X if the only thing he could wear was something "embarrassing" but not risque, like a mascot uniform or something along those lines--- he would wear it and think nothing of it. Also let my mans be a rope bunny and get to exist in subspace for a bit. Maybe Karen knows an escort from Soapland that can get him into contact with the local BDSM community so he can get out of his head.

song i associate with them: Moon by Rebecca IS from the character soundtrack, but it just works so well for him.

favorite picture of them: This one from Annex: Start, I think? It's just always filled me with so many different emotions despite how subdued it is.

[luvzxr]

Break Your Heart.

Hi! This is my first little post on here. I love our little blonde soft boy so I figured why not kick it off with him and a little bit of harsh angst. Hope you like <3 Leon Kennedy was in search of any type of human contact and settled with you with a ‘no ties’ contract until it’s broken on either side. Unfortunately for him he finds himself breaking you and losing his little heap of heaven. He doesn’t seem to ever learn, does he?

Word count; 2,136

Warnings; mentions of alcohol and alcohol abuse, using one another for sexual activity, self destruction. Angst and not so sweet ending because I love pain.

"I'm only going to break your heart."

You knew that, truly. You knew from the very sight of the ruffed up blonde that you were completely and utterly fucked in some way or another but who said you didn't enjoy a challenge? A challenge you lost quite some time ago.

After months of nothing more than a fling only you could of hoped and prayed to the very gods that would turn into something more than just something that was only temporary. That in some way this could of been more than just what it was, what it was meant to stay as. At first, you didn't mind the 'no ties' situation where neither of you had to worry over the fact the other had more of a connection. The minute long phone calls that littered both of your phones which contained nothing more than the simplest mention of something sensual. The secretive contact names to keep it between only the two of you because your colleuges and co-workers were nothing more than nosey. This was nothing more than a mutual agreement between two middle aged people in search of some kind of human connection but with zero ties to hold each other down.

It felt perfect in the beginning.

That was until you fell first. Until you chose to look into those puppy like blue eyes that never seemed to falter while staring down at you to let you know you had his full undivided attention. You took noticed of the gentle touch he'd cast over your exposed arms and how he brushed his calloused palms over them with a soft cotton nature. You fell in love with the way he spoke to you, how his tone was always so gentle on you, laced in comfort and something far more sweeter than sugar.

You started to take notice of the simple things that made Leon who he was as a person.

You committed his face to a memory mapped out to the very bone a million times by now. How his eyes creased when his lips curled into a gentle knowing smile. How he pulse clenched his jaw in an attempt to relax the burning anxiety eating away at him deep within his very soul. The way his brows would furrow and crease the spot between his blue pupils when in a worried or focused state of mind. The way his eyes always seemed to rest in a way where it felt like nothing was behind them but the past that lingered around like a bad nightmare ready to strike him down any chance it got. Only to him, you lit that fire inside his soul that he had been in search for.

You were his delicate piece of heaven that he desperately tried to find for so long. The little sunbeam in his life that was unplanned for. Sunbeam that stared at him now like he was the only man in the world you'd ever want. You were the sunshine in the darkest pits of his tormented, blacked out tunnel of nightmares. You guided him out of those blacked out parts of his mind, the very place he got lost in no matter how much he tried to make a mental map to escape but it was no use.

His little secret ball of sunshine who went along with his playful demeanor and fired back just how he liked it. The very sunbeam who shattered and broke through every pent up wall he placed between himself and any human like connection, the very walls no one was able to break through until he met you.

You meant a little more to him than he was ever able to let on and that terrified him.

"I-"

And currently you were fighting with your own tongue and teeth to muster up something. Anything. To say but nothing truly came out. What were you meant to say? Were you meant to speak the truth, how you didn't care if he shattered that delicate heart of yours into a million different pieces that clattered to the ground beneath you. Or lie and potentially end whatever you two had going for so long because even though it was meant to be nothing more than using one another, it turned into fully falling in love with a man who was emotionally unavailable. Or that's how he perceived himself.

You let a shaky sigh slip past your plush pink lips to try and keep your composure. Your eyes hyper focused on the glazed over counter top where your small palms rested flat in front of you. You couldn't look Leon in the eyes because your heart was slowly shattering already, "I don't care." It was all you had in you to say. It was the truth but you wanted to say so much more than that. Only, you couldn't.

Leon turned his gaze to the side with a head shake. His eyes scanned over your surroundings for a moment, grasping at the words he needed to say to you and going as far as contemplating what was the best ways to say his next words. "You're smarter than that. You're are stronger than that. at least, I thought you were."

Your head snapped up, brows furrowing in shock, "What's that suppose to mean?"

"Exactly what I said. You and I both knew what came with this. No ties."

"So what are you trying to tell me? That all you're ever going to see me as is a piece of ass?"

Those soft baby blues had sunk and deteriorated into nothing but booming thoughts inside his own head and even louder words.

His patience and demeanor finally snapped in half, breaking through every pent up wall he had to shy away the rage and anger he hid so well away from you. It all poured out on the table now with his hands that were thrown out in anger. "Yes! You're just a good Fuck Y/N!"

It was a lie. A very hurtful lie but it had to count for something, right? He was just spitting whatever he could out, whatever the first thing came to mind out of anger because deep down that's not how he really felt.

Because when he looked to you he seen a positive future. One where there was a white picket fence that wrapped around the perimeter of your shared property. How he'd come home from a long day of dealing with training the new rookies, teaching them the ropes and dealing with his personal annoyance of their fuck ups but as soon as his darkened harsh eyes landed on you that demeanor shattered completely. His broad shoulders would slump with the duffle bag hanging from his left dropping to the ground at the door. How his eyes would soften at the mere glimpse of you swaying your hips to the soft humming of the radio while you worked at making dinner for the two of you.

He couldn't express to you how many times he dreams and fantasized about that specific thought. How it crossed his mind more than once.

But when he was dragged back to reality and watched as you flinched back at his words and volume. Especially the volume, the way it suddenly switched to a boom that bounced off every single wall and directly hitting in the center where you stood, as if rattling every bone in your body and you actually felt the vibration course through your veins. His voice was so loud that it sent you into an instant panic. It scared you so badly, in a way where your entire body froze like a deer caught in headlights. It made that far too familiar sting of your eyes creep up on you as all you could do in that moment is stare at him in nothing more than fear and shock.

How he actually metaphorically shattered your heart in front of him. Conflicted emotions could be seen rising from your very soul and he watched as the water works soon formed at the brims of your eyes. Your expression was nothing more than devastation and full blow heartbreak. You wanted to scream, sob, cry out but nothing came out but a shaky whimper and a gentle quiver of your bottom lip.

It was hard for Leon not to notice the way he just broke you with a simple sentence.

"Shit, Sweetheart, I- I didn't-"

You didn't give him the time of day to explain his mistake. Hectic steps towards the door with welling tears were evident. You could hear his pleads for you to wait, to let him explain and apologize and in a haste of trying to reach out and gently grab hold of any limp or fabric he could manage but you slipped out the door far too quickly.

He should of known. He should of taken in account of how sensitive your soul was under that joyful exterior. This little ball of pure heaven that was sculped by every god up in the sky into the perfect little person for him. That little ball of Sunshine that behind closed doors was pressing and pampering him in gentle touches and kisses-- cleansing his soul of every godforsaken sin under his very flesh. His little Sunbeam that that swayed their hips to a song that hummed gently through the radio with a mouth full of toothpaste in the morning to brush their teeth. That had the softest features even during the times they had so much frustration piled up they might actually explode. 

Little Sunshine that grinned up at him when she'd remember his coffee order. Regular with two small sugar cubs and creamer because he didn't care much for the intense sugar rush or the ach in his teeth he'd get any time they'd even remotely come in contact with something far too sweet. 

But he'd watched how you'd flinch back during one of they days where you'd got to watch Leon in action of training the new rookies and how'd he'd raise his voice at some poor rookie who hadn't taken up their defense properly. Who when maneuvering their knives and even vaguely putting another member at risk would earn a scolding from more than one superior.

That should of been his very first sign. That sign of how sensitive you were to that emotion from others. That anger and disproval.

He knew about your childhood and how that anger affected you all the more throughout life. How you begged and pleaded your father to stop drowning himself in nothing but the very liquor he always had pressed against his pursed lips to drown out the worries of his life and the memories of his past. How the man had a temper on him when he drank and when he did he was nothing less than a mean old bastard that cared for nothing but himself. And Leon knew about the countless nights you flicked that lock on your childhood bedroom door and slumped against the nearest wall, hand pressed against your quivering lips to suppress the cries and to calm you in some way. 

But it never was any use because like drain pipes bursting at the seems, it begun to drown you with every salty wave hitting you full force and knocked the wind right out of your tiny lungs and that's when the hyperventilating began. Where you sat with your legs tucked to your chest, your palm grasping against it to try and hold on to any air left inside as if all would soon drain from you and your body would slowly begin to shut down from the lack of oxygen flow. 

That very anger you thought you escaped from years ago, where you fought tooth and nail through your toddler to teenage years to get away from was hitting you just by the mere boom of Leon's voice. 

And Fuck did the sight of your welling up tears on your soft eyes have his chest clenching all the more, the pain feeling that much heavier and the guilt hitting that much harder on him. It was like a semi truck barreling in and knocking the wind completely out of him. All he could imagine is that truck barreling at him back in Raccoon City and feeling his entire body slammed up against the metal car door after it exploded. That's how it felt when he watched you walk out that door after he chased you off. 

And how he'd probably never get that chance to apologize to you. He'd officially lost his little Sunbeam in the worst possible way and he'd never forgive himself for that. How could he? He chased away or lost anything good in his life but he never thought he'd lose you in the same self destructive way he always lost people during.

[uniiiquehecrt]

Pre Ragnarok Thor used to be playful at times. Post Ragnarok Thor is a full on himbo.

But people mistaking / aligning his past playful behavior with his current himboness is what makes me pull out my hair.

"He was always a himbo!" NO HE WASN'T!

I’M JOINING YOU THERE 😭😭😭 Thor was PLAYFUL. He was SASSY. He was FUNNY and good-natured and kind and knew how to navigate situations to lift people up again. But Ragnarok!Thor and Love and Thunder!Thor just hurt me. The way he shattered that glass temple without a thought in the L+T introductory scene hurts my soul....

The only films I will defend as NOT disrespectful and out of character for Thor are “Infinity War” and, surprisingly enough, “Endgame”. (Both of which are unsurprisingly the ones NOT DIRECTED by our favorite daffodil man.)

But I mainly say that because Infinity War!Thor is in league with the original 2 Thor films, characterization wise, just with a darker tone, more fierce temper, and an entire insanity arc + revenge quest in tow... and Endgame I give a pass ONLY to Thor himself, and the things that he says and the actions that he takes. Mostly: the excessive drinking, food consumption as a stress reliever, and the concept of trying to escape his real world through a fantasy of some sort... (though I DESPISE the video game gag. It should have been actually anything else.)

The issue I take with Endgame is not Thor, but how the world and the characters surrounding Thor react to Thor from the first second to the last. They’re constantly making fun of him, belittling him, not including him in any team planning, blaming him for the snap, not trying to help him stop his blatantly obvious self destruction, are otherwise are openly and callously disgusted by or uncomfortable by his being there in the room for the aforementioned self-destruction, and that’s not talking about ABANDONING HIM FOR FIVE YEARS when everyone NOT NAMED TONY should have known better. (And I guess Clint because they weren’t ever close and Clint had his own heavy stuff going on.)

Steve should have checked in. He’s the leader and was Thor’s closest friend on the team. Natasha should have checked in, because she always USED to try and check in, and was taking charge of the team at the time. Bruce should have never left Thor completely in the first place, because nobody would understand how vulnerable, unsteady and in a dangerous place Thor would be in, mentally, emotionally and physically, than Bruce “The other guy spat it out” Banner, who let me remind everybody was THERE DURING THE LAST THREE TERRIBLE TRAGEDIES TO SEE IT FIRSTHAND. Rocket doing his own thing makes sense but then AT LEAST have him act with some level of patience towards Thor because he clearly was able to during Infinity War, and he would know better than anyone else (not named Bruce) how Thor is feeling and how awful it is.

And before anyone says “well they were all going though their own stuff and couldn’t be there for him” then I raise to you that Natasha was almost obsessively checking in with everyone and actively trying to keep things running, and Steve was hosting an emotional support and therapy group for post!snap victims in Falcon’s stead. Bruce was doing god knows what. The only person actually indisposed was Clint and he and Thor weren’t ever even close to begin with. And if you say “oh but they probably blamed him for the snap and that’s why” I just need you to really think about that statement and how awful that is, because they’re supposed to be his team and his friends. His earthen found family outside of the Jane crew. And even if they did blame Thor because they don’t know about Peter Quill and Gamora (who I’m sorry but I love Gamora; the snap is ENTIRELY her fault.) then that STILL doesn’t mean they can just ostracize and abandon the man and his people for five years because they’re mad.

I also take extreme issue with the cinematography team and the editing team for that film for deliberately making Thor the butt of the joke during the “how do we get the stones” scene in particular. (when Thor would have been the most valuable team asset. You know. Because he researched them and the glove made for them was made in one of HIS territories with HIS space metals.) and probably also that stupid “I think I’m having a panic attack” line because nobody says that. Otherwise, the man is drowning in his own despair at best and actively suicidal at worst because of everything that has ever happened to him the past 10 year phases 1-3 run, but yeah sure I guess that’s funny. And not unbearably heartbreaking.

[atclouds]

There's a beast in my past and it scares me

This hungry, hungry wolf that i do not approach

Wolves travel in packs, I keep inviting them over

I was trying to run away, as many of my stories start

There are so many escape routes, but so many wolves

Its different but just one the same, that same wolf in the background

The others band together as they haunt me

But you

You're a solitary creature, you do not hunt you stalk, you do not claw you just demand of me pain

And pain i bled, for you from wounds you did not claw and flesh you did not tear

Not you, never you, its unbecoming, you say that but you lie often

I dont remember your face anymore, or who you used to be before you became this big bad wolf

What did i see in you over the ever present dread of loneliness

Im scared of being alone, the sole ordeal of the hunt, a pack of wild beasts on your trail

Makes you a part of something bigger

Maybe thats why i invited so many wolves, its in their nature to hunt, and for me to run

I wonder if you'd be pleased of what i made of you, a monster to fear

You where a scared, spiteful little sadistic thing

You'd enjoy it, haunting me so

Nobody could hurt me quite as sharp, efficiently afflicted

I made a game of it a jest

Id put you on a nightgown and me in a red hood, id make of it a tragedy, id make of you a tale

So many times over told, overtold, overtalked, that you took a second life, a second set of teeth, an overcoat of fur

A black dog is an omen of death, a carrier of doom, but you simple creature you, are not a dog

I made of you an omen, i made of you a reverence of self destruction, i painted you red like wonderland white roses

I'm cursed, you cursed me. You made of me this fool

I dont think ill ever stop running

There is this big bad wolf, who uses to be a girl, not particularly big but exceptionally bad

There's this old ghost in my breast pocket, it hears my heart beat accelerate, and it feeds, with every broken sharp intake.

[ffxivaltaholic]

Prompt #9: Lend an Ear

#FFxivWrite2024

I don't even know where to begin...

So much has changed in these few year, yet it feels like you were just with me yesterday, no matter how often I visit your grave... I wish you could have seen it, the liberation of our home, then the collapse of Garlemald, where our freedom had been taken, it's city rubble and dust. Ala Mhigo still stands, her banners flying proudly.

We have surviving family... Mom's sister, her husband and their daughter. She is our cousin and despite how annoying she can be... She's a good girl, I'm proud of her. You would have like Vassyl so much... You have similar personalities, so care-free and jovial. I miss your laugh. It's been so long since I last heard it.

I am married now, I'm sure that would come as a surprise since I said it was never for me, but she's amazing, I've never seen a woman so terrifyingly beautiful. She sees my many flaws and fills those gaps in my weakness with her strength. Could you believe I would find a spouse to tolerate all my bullshit? Heh... Yeah. Our anniversary just passed, If we ever have a child, I hope to give them your name. I don't know if that will ever happen but... I am leaving it up to the gods now. Whatever this shard holds for me, I do not face it alone anymore. With my wife and our friends, I am living the life you hoped for me, and I can only pray that I have made you proud.

We are crossing the ocean soon, to a land unknown to us to seek out treasures and adventure. I do not know if I am suited to such a life but I am trying a new thing where I don't behave like a stubborn asshole as much... Through a friend, yes an actual friend, I have discovered bounty hunting as a potential path forward now that I no longer have to dedicate my existence to being a soldier... I honestly thought I would be here beside you by now, and the guilt of that nearly destroyed me. You would not have wanted that though... I am pretty sure you would have punched me for even saying such a thing.

I quit drinking. It was a weak attempt to escape the realities of my past that I couldn't let go of, and it nearly cost me the sliver of happiness I had. You can thank Iaella for that though, she saved me from my own self destructive nature. That and she could kick my ass in an instant, I wouldn't even stand a chance. That is the power of a Fist of Rhalgar. I do not doubt that you both would team up against me in an instant... Ah... I really wish you could meet her, see this life you bought me with your own. Even just for a moment...

Ah I miss you Seyrin... My brother...

I'm so sorry...