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#i mean not that he was dead in the first place
konigsblog · 18 hours
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I feel like Price would use rape as a means of interrogation, it's extremely painful and humiliating, the threat of it alone can make some people spill their secrets.
Would be pretty bad if readers innocent tho, no enemy secrets to share, nothing to bargain with, not even knowing what price thinks they've done. Just no way to stop it, reader would just have to wait for price to be done , and who knows how long that would take
tw; rape, interrogation, false accusations, dark fiction. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT · MDNI 18+
john price doesn't give you any hint to what answers he's looking for.
you're left trembling, your limbs tied with rope to a metal chair inside the cold, terrifying interrogation room. it doesn't matter how many times you scream and shout that you're innocent, that he has the wrong person, price doesn't listen, believing you're just lying, attempting to get yourself out of this mess.
you could take the beatings, the slaps and the punches that left your nose bloody with crimson and your bottom lip split, but the sickening and horrifying threats of rape sent shivers down your spine. you pleaded desperately with john, begging him for any hints for what answers he was looking for. although your attempts at bargaining were fruitless, he didn't listen to your piteous and feared cries and took your denial as ‘disobedience’.
your breathing became quick and laborious at the threats, threatening to rape your poor throat and your body ‘til you're limp and bloody, perhaps even lifeless if you still didn't cooperate with him. you were almost frozen in place when he began to unfasten his leather belt. you shuddered and sobbed out through horror and terror, attempting to squirm away to no avail, his calloused and grimey hands gripping your head.
his attempts at intimidating you were working, but you didn't have any valuable information to offer him. you were completely innocent, you didn't have a clue why you were here in the first place. with nothing to tell price, he forced his musky, meaty cock down your throat painfully, showing you no pity or sympathy while stuffing your mouth with his girthy size. you choked and gagged and retched, gurgling on the intrusion shoved down your strained throat, choking ln your saliva. you spat all over yourself, slobbering and dribbling around his lengthy dick, attempting to catch your breathe desperately.
he threatened you with a pistol pressed against the crown of your skull, that if you bit him or used your teeth against his large dick then he wouldn't hesitate to blow your brains out. your eyes were wide with agony and fear, glistening in the dim light.
you were forced to stay still at his mercy with the rope scratching and rubbing against your bare skin, causing burns and goosebumps to spread over the exposed surface of skin. he wouldn't hesitate to take it a step further and rape your weak, defenceless body if you still weren't willing to cooperate. it's not as if you could provide any information that they could use, you were nothing but useless. this was a mistake that they didn't realise, and you were now subjected to different forms of torture and abuse.
he'd bend you over the interrogation table, forcing you to look at the security camera in the corner of the room, shaming you for being disobedient, for misbehaving and refusing to give them any answers. knowing this was all being recorded caused your stomach to churn, the bloody mess left between your thighs stinging and agonising, the pain spreading and intensifying with each hard and merciless thrust, his brutality and cruelty causing you wail out and scream through disgust and pain.
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slyscoutess · 21 hours
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paring: sebastian vettel x fem!singer!reader summary: pilots should learn not to comment on their favorite artists . . . or maybe this is their tactic to get what they want writer: the oldest thing in my drafts, it clearly had to be my first passion in formula 1, one of the reasons I liked watching it, listening to Florence + The Machine, I just wanted to leave my love for sebs on record
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yourusername I came for the pleasure, but I stay for the pain . . . New album DANCE FEVER. Out April 19 💙
store.yourname.com
📷: alvarezcamila
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yournameupdate MOTHER IS BACK!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL
ynlnthinker EVERYBODY AND THEIR CHILD FREAKING RIGHT NOW
ynlnandthesiix not her coming back after years with new music and pretending to be normal
vettelchild somebody please check on sebs, i think the man is dead right about now
leclerccough just saw sebastian vettel himself in the likes, she posted it like 2 min ago???
patitowifey father is a hardcore fan just like us fr carlandomind I didn't even know he had Instagram??? pastryf2piastri pretty sure is a fanpage, there is nothing published yet
yournamecuunt Rumors of her divorce emerged in 2020 and she disappeared from the map and now appears with an album out of nowhere
andthesixburner queen behaviour???
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lovingwags New wag in the paddock?
seen at the Australian GP with some friends and members of the band that makes up her shows and team, yn ln was present at the Australian GP, ​​we cannot confirm which garage she was in, but I think we all have a certain hope of one in specific ( Sebastian please makes us proud
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strollmothering That one blueyfever on twitter beign right all along
blueyfever OF COURSE I FCKING WAS formulaonfacts CAN'T FREAKING BELIEVE IT
ynthinker SCREAMING, CRYING AND THROWING UUUP
minivettel5 This woman is a freaking goddess
vettelhamm Sebastian must be just killing himself right about now
33tororoso Do we, Sebastian Vettel's children, finally have a mother?
maziemillian Isn't he like . . . married? blueyfever yeah! to her!!!! formulaonfacts okay grandma let's get you back to bed
whatamaxemmil I can't wait for blueyfever to be right
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yourusername for years and years the words you didn't let me write suffocated me, the art you never let me see blinded me, the places you left me humiliated me, but finally my Graceland gained a different meaning and I'm no longer stuck in the bathroom with the same headache, everything you wanted from me didn't belong to you and I finally found someone who would give me the pen and not cut out my tongue, all my love, my affection, my future and my choices belong to him.
Because of him I have Dance Fever every night.
DANCE FEVER is yours to listen now.
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yournameupdate OMG IS THAT????
ynlnthinker THAT IS SEBASTIAN VETTEL HIMSELF
vettelmemes OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG
vettelchild WHAT DOES THIS MEAAAAAAN
formulaonfacts BLUEY WAS RIGHT WT???
lecfosi BLUEY THE OLDER WISER SIBLING charles_leclerc no? that would be me maxverstappen1 you are neither charles_leclerc I am her favorite lance_stroll keep dreaming
yournamecuunt the grid competing more for her mother's love than for the world championship
georgerussell63 You haven't seen them in person.
sebastianvettel posted a new video.
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yourusername It's been three years and a pandemic of an intense creative process, four years of silently recording every movement of my life until dance fever came to me and was finally delivered to you, four years surrounded by incredible people, and as a thank you for me Wait patiently over the last four years, I'll be sharing a little of what I've been going through.
the Dance Fever bts is now on YouTube, I'm sorry for the length, it's been four years of recording.
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charles_leclerc it's 2 in the mornig
yourusername and why aren't you sleeping, pretty sure already put you in bed?
maxverstappen1 I just stopped my sim race to watch something I basically live? yeah
vettelchild my god the amount of content from yn and sebastian, now I have diabetes and i'm still at 2019, they weren't even dating
lecsainzfosi wait . . . WHAT?
lance_stroll I will assume you got to 2020 and 2021 charles_leclerc often sleep on the sofa in their house during these landonorris you and practically everyone on the grid, even Lewlew charles_leclerc yeah but i am her favorite lance_stroll still on this?
yournamecuunt Now that you are intertwined in the world of F1, do you think Lance should just leave?
yourusername Hell no, that is my child, giving my life for him to be happy, never did anything wrong, will never do , everyone who complains about him just wants to make noise and distractions and isn't worrying about the race tsunodaaaa on my way to make a fanpage for this mother and son duo
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The soft tendrils of dawn's first light seeped through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow upon the tranquil morning. Sebastian, now retired from the racing circuit, still grappled with the novelty of no longer being tethered to the demanding schedules of tracks worldwide. Yet, awakening beside his wife, cocooned in the serenity of their home, provided a deeply soothing sense of contentment.
As Sebastian nestled closer to his beloved, he could feel her gentle warmth radiating beside him. She slept peacefully, her worries and the frenetic pace of everyday life momentarily suspended. Ever since Bee came into their lives, their nights had become a balancing act between tending to their child's needs and stealing moments of rest. But on this particular night, they had slept deeply, as though replenishing themselves from an extended bout of weariness.
Her locks cascaded like silken waves over the pillow, delicately shrouding her serene countenance. The soft curves of her features bespoke the tranquility she had discovered in that fleeting moment of repose. A fond smile tugged at Sebastian's lips as he recalled the countless nights spent awake with her, cradling her in his arms as she delved into the depths of her creative musings. The restorative embrace of a full night's sleep had invigorated Sebastian. He savored a newfound sense of peace and autonomy, a luxury he hadn't known since bidding farewell to the adrenaline-fueled world of racing. Now, he could devote more of himself to his growing family, witnessing Bee's milestones and relishing in the simple joys of marital companionship.
As the world beyond their bedroom gradually stirred to life, the couple remained ensconced in their private sanctuary. Yet, the tranquil ambiance was momentarily shattered by the soft whimper of Bee, captured by the electronic monitor stationed nearby. With a reluctant sigh, Sebastian's wife stirred beside him, bidding farewell to the depths of slumber.
"Sebastian, your daughter wake up . . .", she groaned, as Bee's gentle cry pierced the stillness of the morning, the woman instinctively buried her face into her husband's chest, seeking refuge from the beckoning call of their daughter. Her soft sobs muffled against the warmth of his embrace, a silent plea for a few more moments of respite.
Sebastian couldn't help but chuckle softly at his wife's playful attempt to evade the inevitable. With a tender affection, he ran his fingers through her hair, soothing her frazzled nerves with each gentle stroke. Her muffled laughter reverberated against his chest, a testament to the enduring bond they shared, even amidst the chaos of parenthood. As Bee's cries persisted, Sebastian's wife reluctantly peeled herself away from the sanctuary of his embrace, a resigned smile tugging at the corners of her lips. With a loving glance exchanged between them, they silently acknowledged the shared journey of parenthood, filled with its moments of exhaustion and boundless love. With a whispered promise to return, Sebastian's wife slipped out of bed, ready to embrace the day and tend to their beloved daughter.
As the soft hues of morning bathed the room, casting a gentle glow upon their cozy sanctuary, the woman returned, cradling their precious Bee in her arms. Each step she took seemed to echo with the tender rhythm of maternal love, her eyes alight with a serene radiance that mirrored the dawn's gentle embrace.
Sebastian's heart swelled with affection as he watched his wife approach, the ethereal beauty of motherhood emanating from her every movement. With each delicate sway, Bee stirred slightly in her mother's arms, her angelic face still adorned with the remnants of sleep. As his wife drew nearer, Sebastian's eyes sparkled with an unwavering adoration, a silent testament to the profound love he held for both his wife and their darling daughter. In that fleeting moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the tender bond that bound their family together.
Bee, with her tiny hands outstretched, reached eagerly for her father, her sleepy gaze melting hearts with its innocence. Sebastian's heart skipped a beat as he eagerly scooped her up, enveloping her in a warm embrace that radiated with paternal love. With a contented sigh, his lover gently lowered Bee onto the bed, where the little one wobbled unsteadily before finding her footing. With a gleeful giggle, Bee propelled herself into her father's waiting arms, her laughter filling the room with its infectious melody. Sebastian's heart swelled with pride as he cradled their daughter close, showering her with affectionate kisses that elicited a chorus of delighted squeals. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of their love, Sebastian's wife couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the family they had created together.
As she reclined on the bed, a gentle hand instinctively drifted to her burgeoning belly, where new life stirred with the promise of tomorrow. With each fluttering kick, her heart overflowed with anticipation, a silent prayer whispered for the blessings that lay ahead.
In the tranquil embrace of their shared love, Sebastian's wife felt as though she had finally found her own personal Graceland—a haven of warmth, purity, and boundless affection. And as the laughter of her husband and daughter echoed through the room, she knew that their home would forever be filled with the sweet symphony of love's enduring melody.
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sebastianvettel My Dearest,
As I sit down to write these words, I find myself immersed in thoughts of you, my heart overflowing with emotions that words alone cannot fully capture. Each day spent by your side feels like ascending to a throne, where you reign as my sovereign, my King. Your presence in my life has granted me a sense of liberation, a feeling of being truly Free from the constraints of the past.
Our journey together has been a whirlwind of joy and passion, a dance of souls caught in the frenzy of love. In your arms, I've discovered a rhythm unlike any other, a Choreomania that consumes us, leaving us breathless yet exhilarated. Whenever I find myself away from you, it's as if I've returned to familiar grounds, back in the embrace of a familiar town. You are my anchor, my sanctuary, my safe haven — a feeling encapsulated in the phrase Back In Town.
Together, we stand united against the odds, defying conventions and societal norms. We are rebels, fighters, Girls Against God in a world that seeks to confine us. In the depths of night, you are my beautiful paradox, my Dream Girl Evil. Your essence is both enchanting and mysterious, a captivating blend that keeps me endlessly intrigued.
Within the walls of our home, our love becomes a sanctuary, a Prayer Factory where we offer our hearts and souls in devotion to each other. It is here, in the sacred space we've created, that I find solace and strength. You possess a wisdom and insight that transcends time, a gift akin to that of the mythical Cassandra. Your intuition guides me, leading me towards a future filled with hope and promise.
In your arms, I've found my heaven, my nirvana — for Heaven is Here, whenever I'm with you. Your presence alone is enough to transform the ordinary into something extraordinary, turning mundane moments into memories I'll cherish forever. Your smile, like a radiant daffodil in a field of blooms, brings light and warmth to even the darkest of days. With you, each moment becomes a celebration of life, a testament to the beauty of love.
My love for you knows no bounds, transcending the limits of time and space. You are my guiding star illuminating the path before me with your boundless affection. Even in moments of separation, I exercise restraint, longing to hold you close yet savoring the anticipation of our reunion. Distance may test us, but it only serves to deepen my love for you, fortifying the bond we share.
Together, we are a force to be reckoned with, a Bomb waiting to explode with passion and desire. In your arms, I find solace, security, and an overwhelming sense of belonging. You are my muse, my inspiration, my Mermaid of the depths. Your allure is irresistible, drawing me in with your ethereal beauty and grace.
My dearest, these words pale in comparison to the depth of my affection for you. You are the beating heart of my existence, the light that guides me through the darkness.
With all my love,
Sebastian
tagged: yourusername
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charles_leclerc alright gonna wrap it up, never gonna be this kind of romantic
carlossainz55 not even shakespere thought about writing something like that, mate
maxverstappen1 When will it be my turn?
kellypiquet what? maxverstappen1 when will it be my turn to be this romantic
lance_stroll MAMA AND PAPA
fernandoalo_oficial beautiful letter, really big, not gonna read but it's wonderful
jensonbutton I've never seen anyone who had so much to say, my god lewishamilton stole all the romance of the century landonorris That's why we live in the century of whoredom
yournamecuunt DID HE JUST MAKE A LETTER WITH ALL HER SONGS IN ORDER?
aussiegrit he's crazy romantic sentimental like that
motheryourname why hasn't yourusername commented yet?
lance_stroll She's here crying like hell at Sebs' farewell party alex_albon She's been really emotional today, with the party and everything. landonorris It's the hormones of this new pregnancy ynthinker THE WHAT sebastianvettel Lando??? yourusername FOR FUCKS SAKE landonorris sorry, sorry SORRY MOTHER
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ronintales · 1 day
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ೃ₊ 🌾 ❝ So When I Die ❞ ╰►, Gojo Satoru
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𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒 | following gojo satoru’s death, his ex wife is in charge of taking care of his funeral service and everything else that comes with it.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 | 4,676 words
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | character death, possible spoilers, funeral, angst, and not proofread ;p
 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 | I did NAWT want this to be my first work on here but due to certain circumstances…. AHEM his DEATH!!!! I felt it was necessary because laik… grief LOL. I wrote this a while back tho. Enjoy.
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꒰ 💌 ꒱ ♡ ༘° 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓, gojo satoru …
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Your ex-husband is dead, and in his line of work, yes, you know that he has a higher risk of dying than the average person, but still, death never comes expected, does it? Even if he always says—oh wait… used to, you suppose, say that he was crazy strong and no one could ever take him down. Well, he was wrong in the end like a bunch of other things. Like how well he took care of you, how he’d give you six kids, how—you won’t ramble, noting he’s dead now and there’s no point, but also because it’s quite rude of you to talk down on someone who is dead and can’t defend themselves. Whatever.
You just… don’t expect it. Yes, you understood he was hard headed and insanely cocky, but in a way… you always believed that he would always come home alive and, even if he did get hurt, he would be okay eventually as he heals. You don’t forget it, he’s only human, you know because of the many mistakes he’s made, but still… he’s… he’s gone?
You hesitated when you heard that. Gojo Satoru, the so-called love of your life from two years ago, is dead? Impossible, you think. Gojo Satoru found death embarrassing, with all the things he said. He said that he would be okay. He was always okay. What are you supposed to say to that?
When you get the call, you wonder why you, of all the people in his life, were the one they called to inform about his status. Why did you have to go to his place and clean out all his things? Take all his belongings with you? At first, your instinct was to say “throw it all away,” because what does Gojo Satoru mean to you now? You’re not his wife! He neglected you for years and filled your days and nights with sorrows. He broke your heart. But still, he didn’t mean nothing to you at the same time.
Those precious years of being his acquaintance in middle school. When you had shorter hair and he didn’t know much about you other than you were in his class and he had bought you cute white socks for your class gift exchange on Christmas that year. The long years that Gojo Satoru pined for you after you both attended the same high school. The hard and dark times he went through losing Suguru and shutting you out, though he loved you for so long. When you turned twenty, and Satoru had gotten better, to the point where he felt he was ready to move on and continue with his pursuit for you. When you turned twenty-three, and got married to him on a spur. When you moved in and shared a bed, until the marriage got cold and most nights you spent alone.
You couldn’t say for the past fourteen years, Gojo Satoru was nothing at all to you. The news was shocking, and knowing he was dead… did you have to be careful about how you felt about him, or how you thought of him? Well, now that he is dead, should you be so ruthless and hostile toward the man who broke your heart? You don’t know, so naturally, and it really just slips out, you agree to take care of the process of his passing.
For the most part, you’re calm. You don’t actually know how to feel, and you don’t know how to be. You’re not his wife, you have no obligations to take care of him, or anything that he cared about. Yet, you’re here. In his lonely apartment that doesn’t even smell like him. He probably never even spent much time in this place, even so, he still had a lot of belongings. Pictures of you in frames surprisingly. He did take them all when you got divorced and he moved out of the house, you just didn’t expect that he’d put them up on display. He probably didn’t get many visitors to question him about the lady in his pictures. You were sure that would get annoying.
Anyway, you don’t know if you’re supposed to cry or even feel sad. You don’t know if it’s strange to feel that way or not. You can’t quite make out how you feel, being surrounded by Gojo Satoru’s personality and things. You don’t think too much about the things inside the apartment because you don’t want to be too reminded of what you used to be. What you felt about the man once upon a time. If there was still love in your heart for him.
Gojo Satoru wasn’t a slob, but he wasn’t clean either by any means. Given he probably didn’t stay here much, it made sense that you didn’t need to clean a whole lot of the apartment. You get there and you take it all in. Satoru’s little apartment, because he didn’t want to pay for such a luxurious place he wouldn’t even stay in. Maybe that kind of place made him feel more alone too. Thoughts you should not be thinking start to trickle into your brain, but you stop yourself. You shouldn’t feel bad for leaving, nor should you want to go back. You made a decision to leave and you should honor it. It was the right thing to do for yourself (hopefully).
Do you even want his things? No, not really. But you have a keep, donate, and a throw away bin anyway. Most of it keeps going to the keep bin and donation box. Somehow the feeling of someone else getting Gojo Satoru’s things is unsettling to you, but it’s even worse to think that all these things will just go to a landfill where things that were once valued are forgotten and it’s all going to be considered “trash.” Maybe that’s because you know why every item is there and the story behind that certain mug or decor piece. You don’t know it, but you’re trying your best not to care.
You sigh, the thought that this is all so strange, bothering and pestering you like an annoying fly. You tell yourself you know that already, so stop thinking about it. Maybe you’re in denial that Gojo Satoru is actually gone. You can feel him. He’s still there, you know it. That or you’re just surrounded by his belongings and that’s why his presence is here.
In your hand, you hold a big black garbage bag as you make your way to his bedroom to clear out his closet. This is a room of his that you haven’t been to, strange right? You wondered if another woman spent time here. Jealous much? You’re supposed to be clearing out your ex-husband’s apartment, not pondering about what he was up to after you two had split. The man is dead for one, what are you going to do about it? Confront his dead body? You shouldn’t be thinking about things like that, so that thought is one you shake off and ignore too.
You sigh because you’re tired from cleaning all day and clearing his things out and you’re probably only a quarter’s way done with the place. It’s not even that big, it’s just been uncomfortably hard for you to bring yourself here with your mixed and strange feelings about this whole situation. Isn’t there anyone else who cares about Gojo Satoru? How come you’re stepping up to the plate when this is how you feel—confused and unsure? What are you even going to do for the funeral? You took the task up because Gojo Satoru would probably turn in his grave knowing the higher ups organized his funeral. So while it is strange for you to do all of this, you’ve rationalized the lot of this situation that you put yourself in. Once upon a time, he loved you right? So surely he would prefer you over—you’re so silly, thinking all these things when Gojo Satoru is your dead ex-husband.
You plop on the bed with a small groan as you turn over. This is a bit inappropriate, to be laying on your ex husband’s unmade bed. It’s left in the state that it was the last time he woke up. That’s a little precious you think, freely, not even denying it. Are you ruining this precious thing here? Well, in all honesty, you’re kind of cherishing it, because this is a small piece of Satoru that is really still here in the present times. He always liked soft things and this blanket is soft. The sheets still smell like your ex-husband. The light musk of his skin and his soap is there. The thought of this bed being his is comfortable enough. Like you miss his warmth and touch, you curl up on the mattress, hugging yourself to the scent of him surrounding, and you can almost imagine that he’s holding you right now, like he used to. His detergent is faintly there too, well actually, it’s the same as yours. He asked when you two had split and he was settling into his own place all the household items you used. You supposed that it was all he knew.
You offered to go shop for household things with him and it was probably the last time you two had exchanged any kind of affection. You let him put his hand on your thigh as he drove you two to the supermarket. He let you link your arm with his, sides flush together like you two didn’t just get divorced. It was a silent message of “I miss you,” because it was and—quite frankly, still is—hard to get over someone you loved for so long. Even if he left the marriage long before you did, emotionally and physically. This was something you wanted while you married, for Satoru to present, and in your arms. For him to show you that he cared and loved you. You were even a little upset that was the only time he was doing all of that for you, but you chose not to ruin the moment for the both of you.
Funny how all these memories and things between the two of you are flooding in constantly. It makes you feel kind of sick. Nauseous and unable to breathe. You open your eyes in realization of what you’re doing right now. You sit up immediately, flustered and embarrassed as if Satoru would open the door right now and have that annoying smug grin on his face with his arms crossed, just to say as he leans on the door frame, “I knew you missed me.” Following with your name because he liked your name the best. He always said your name was pretty and he wouldn’t give you a pet name because nothing will ever be as great as calling you by your name. A nice little reminder that Satoru loved your name makes you smile a bit. Weird how all of these just keep piling up. One thought triggers another and it almost makes you itch and feel bad for the way things ended between the two of you. You almost have regrets about—
Whatever, you have a deadline to clean this place up you remind yourself. You spread your palms out on the sheets once more, feeling every thread that Satoru once laid his body on. You should take these for your bed, you think. They’re not so bad, just a plain white sheet, but it reminds you of Satoru’s hair and it would be waste.You lift yourself from the bed and open his closet, not even noticing how you keep having to make excuses for yourself to keep some of his things.
Already feeling overwhelmed because you keep holding back, opening the closet makes you feel like you’re cracking. You let out a suppressed sound. You can’t even register what it sounds like. A squeak or something? But looking at all his clothes almost makes everything so real for you. All his uniform? All his coats and sweaters? Ah, the one from high school. And then you can see all the ones you bought him. Damn, does that really test your strength.
Lined up neatly and nicely put away, it’s almost a shame to you to give these away. Your hand shakes as you hesitantly reach for one of his favorite button ups. Your skin meets the soft fabric and you only lightly touch it because you don’t want to wrinkle it. You remember when you used to iron Satoru’s clothes early in the morning before he woke up. Even until the end of your marriage, you still ironed them.
You look up, reaching for his work uniform. This is what he wore most often, you know that. So you let yourself crumble. Carefully taking off the hanger and sitting on his bed as you hold the shirt close to you. You bring it to your nose, just to smell it. You wish it smelled like Satoru more, but even so, it makes you break down.
Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you take another sniff. The thought that Satoru really isn’t here anymore makes your heartbreak. It comes crashing down on you. You really miss him, and you regret that you didn’t spend as much time as you would have liked to with him. You wish you could have had the courage to tell him how much you still cared and loved him. Yes, it might not have been the same kind of love you had for him before, but you did still love him.
You let out a little sob. In frustration and despair, tears flow out as you hold his clothes close to you. The walls of your bruised heart collapses as you hold his clothes so tight as if he was still in them. Well, you really do wish he was. You’re desperate to feel him in your arms physically. Just a moment with him so you could say your last sentiments. Just a moment to see him again. Just a moment to love him.
You’re helpless as your tears flow endlessly onto his shirt. You feel silly, but you just can’t stop. You really miss Satoru, and you have been for so many months now. You stroke the shirt as you would his body, wallowing in the grief you’re supposed to feel, even if the dead man is your ex-husband. You spent so many years loving him, how could you just not feel anything to hear news of his death? How could you not feel any regret or remorse for how messy you left things with him? There’s so many things you want to say to him, and it kills you to know you will never get to say any of it to him.
You wonder if Satoru was still around, would he wrap his arms around you and tell you not to cry? Would he kiss your temple like he always did when you were down? You wish he would just do all of it. You wish you two could have tried harder. Your love for him never burned out, you know that much. It’s the reason why you’re here, alone in his room crying as you hold his clothes dearly to you. And even if you hate to say it, even if you don’t want to admit it, Satoru loved you until the very end too.
“I’m still in love with you y’know…”
“Shut up,” You mutter as you slide the eggs off the pan for the hungry man at the table.
It was the dead hours of the night when he returned from a mission, knocking on your door, telling you that he was hungry and needed a place to crash.You slammed the door on him of course, but he wedged his foot in the gap of the door (no, it didn’t hurt, he’s got magical powers that prevent him from actually getting hurt like damn maniac) and used his own strength against you to push his upper body through the door to beg you to let him stay. It was a mistake on your part, but it actually wasn’t all that terrible that night. You were just bitter.
“My bad,” Satoru said dramatically as he took a bite. “Just thought you missed me. That’s the reason you let me in, right?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, not in the mood for any of his games. His smug grin made everything even worse, because he was right. “Gojo Satoru, wipe that grin off your face.”
“Must have hit a nerve,” He teased like it was still appropriate to do so.
You actually don’t even remember what you said then after that, but you just know… Gojo Satoru has you all figured out yet… he never said anything about it to you. And that was just him. He knew well enough not to break your heart one more time, but he was selfish enough to constantly flirt with you any time he could. If he passed by, or was coming home late from a mission and knocking on your door to remind you that he existed. Not anymore.
After cleaning his apartment, it’s all empty now. Which is a little strange. You’ve never even been to his place until after he died, and yet… it makes your stomach turn and feel upset after realizing that this place is no longer where your ex-lover resides. You understand that he’s no longer occupying it. There’s no point in keeping it for him. But maybe because you don’t think it through while you’re still in the grieving process. You don’t think about Gojo Satoru being dead because you don’t want to. It makes your heart squeeze and your breath stop. You can’t face the fact that he no longer exists and you can no longer see him anymore. You just can’t, so you wonder: where will his home be? Who's going to take care of him? Where is he going to go to shelter himself from the rain or snow? Where is he going to sleep? Where can he feel safe and secure?
You sigh, rubbing your eyes. You really need to get some proper rest. You feel yourself withering in the bitter feelings you still have toward Satoru, but also the dangerous sorrow that’s sinking your whole body down. You can’t believe that you really miss Gojo Satoru after all this time hating him and wishing you two had never met when he was here and alive, waiting for you to just cave into what your heart wanted. Truth is though, you never would. You were too strong for that.
Finally, you pack up the final things, leaving absolutely nothing behind. Satoru isn’t here anymore, and it looks exactly like that. This little corner of the world isn’t his anymore, and you’d like to say that it never was because he didn’t spend much of his time in this place. It’s just sad to see it all gone, stripped to the bare white box it actually is without the fun of your late ex-husband. You shut the door, leaving this place behind and bringing this part of Satoru with you, maybe the only part of Satoru that is still worldly and able for you to have in your grasp. You leave the key to his apartment on the landlord’s desk and leave with the rest of Satoru’s things in your arms, all thrown in the cardboard box labeled “Satoru” in your handwriting with a permanent marker. Silly of you to not even realize it, Gojo Satoru’s home is not a place, it’s you.
The end of it was the funeral process. Which was much more work than cleaning his apartment. You wish somebody was worried about your well-being, but that somebody, the most likely candidate, was dead. Satoru would have told you to chill out a bit and ask you to wind down with him, but this is his funeral, he can’t really do that now, can he? But you don’t want to seem like you’re so reliant on him. You’ve done plenty of things without him, and this will be no exception. He just… sort of made the process easier and bearable. You’re on your 10th phone call with the carpenters of the coffin when you really wish you didn’t take on the task of carrying out Satoru’s dying wishes. He didn’t even have many, because he was so sure he wasn’t going to die so soon.
Through it all, you hold yourself together quite elegantly. Even through the eulogy. No one would even guess the mental strain you put yourself through to make this all happen. All the floral arrangements are beautiful, Satoru’s corpse is dressed nicely—though you grace him with a closed casket funeral because you were sure that he did not want anyone to see him so vulnerably lifeless and you simply could not handle the sight of his stale and unresponsive body. But everyone could indeed tell, Gojo Satoru was loved. They could understand your love for the man. You wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t love him. But you just deny it.
His guest list was quite large. Some people you didn't even know, and you were sure he did not want that. But the higher ups had their own agenda too, and you had to make compromises though you stood your ground quite well for the sake of your late ex-husband's well being in the afterlife. You wonder, would Satoru love you for eternity for loving and caring for him unconditionally and so thoroughly? When you eventually join him, will he thank you for so meticulously planning and giving him a proper send off? You hope so. You hope that he will continue to love you in the next lifetime, and in that lifetime, you two will be happily together. Not miserably apart like you are now.
Maybe the only time anyone can see you break is when the casket is lowered and this is the last time that you’ll ever see Satoru’s face again, except you don’t. His casket is closed and covered with all the flowers you bought to send him off beautifully. There’s a complex look on your face, and no one could quite read it, but it was clear that there was a storm going on inside of you, stirring and rumbling. Your eyebrows knitted together and your eyes glossy with a down turn of your lips. You’re just keeping yourself together for Satoru. You need to.
The only time you get to break down about it is when you get home from the long day. Crumbling down your door, as you miserably sob. How could the world be so possibly cruel that you had to bury the last man you loved for the past ten years? It never gave you time to move on. You weren’t ready to let go just yet and be content with the distance. Sure, you asked for it when he was still tangible, but now he was untouchable, not existing, and it felt so painful. You curl up in a ball, on the bed you used to share with him. The bed you two used to gossip on and the bed where you simply just held him to sleep on your good days. The bed that you laid alone for most nights wishing he’d come to hold you and not be too tired for you. All the bad and good memories come to make you think of one thing; you wish Satoru was here right now.
You lay there, contemplating if you just want to stay there for the whole week or get up and cook yourself something. You haven’t been eating with how hectic it’s been to take care of Satoru’s send off. You sigh, closing your eyes. Sleep sounds like the best thing to you at the moment. You were drained and exhausted from preserving the life of Gojo Satoru as well as commemorating it. You needed that rest.
When you drift into sleep, you kind of hope that Satoru is there for you, waiting in a field of beautiful flowers like he came to visit you in a dream. Even if it’s just your imagination. You’d like to think that he cared enough that he left you alone to deal with all of the things he left behind. He doesn’t though, because you don’t dream. You just black out and you wonder if you’ll ever dream again. But maybe you’re just being dramatic because you miss your ex-husband so much. You blink the tears out from your eyes, wiping them before getting up and pulling yourself together. You can be sad, but not miserable. You were never the type to just crumble, however, even this shook you down to the very ground and yes, it is hard to get back up. But everything with Satoru was hard, and this was no different. You should have been used to this.
Eventually, you do get yourself together. Sad, but you’re functioning. You go back to work and you continue with your daily life. Satoru’s never really been a part of your daily routine after the 3rd year of being married to him. It was no different not seeing him at all, but it was just the fact that he truly wasn't there anymore. If you were to call his cell, it would just ring on your dresser in your room and go to voicemail. Sometimes, you wait for the voicemail just to hear his voice, but most times you stay away from his contact. You’re recovering, just slowly.
People at work send their condolences, just like they did when they found out you divorced Gojo Satoru. They give you a pitiful look and tell you to be strong, but when they think you’re not listening they bash Satoru for passing and still putting the responsibility of carrying his will out on his ex wife—you. You don’t defend him nor does what they say settle well with you. They’re right, of course. Gojo Satoru has always been selfish, up until his last breath, but you just can’t seem to feel validated when you’re the one who buried Gojo Satoru. He was once your whole world, how could you just completely numb yourself to the pain of losing your connection with him, absolutely and completely?
Apparently, you’re the only person on his will too. You inherit everything of his one day, and it’s kind of overwhelming. All of his money is transferred to your bank account, all his belongings, everything is yours. You don’t even know what to do with most of it. You don’t even want to look and use anything of his. So you store most of his things in a box and label it “Satoru,” along with the other things that you took from his apartment, and you make an account to store all his money in, for what? You don’t know, just something.
When you're older, you’ll come to realize that you made Satoru a loved person until the very end, and that you were perhaps the only person that he still had love for, even if you weren’t his wife anymore. This is why Satoru loved you so much, and yes, he got very lucky with you, you will give yourself that. But you also won’t feel so bitter about having to be the person to handle his departure because you made sure to do just the way he wanted it, by you. for now, you’ll miss him lots and bring him flowers whenever the time comes. You won’t call him your ex-husband, but your late-husband. You keep some of his clothes to wear like you used to. You still sleep on your side of the bed, leaving the space Satoru used to fill empty for him. Life goes on the way it used to.
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skamenglishsubs · 2 days
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Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 3, Episode 6
Out here in the real world it's been a week since the cliffhanger ending of episode 5 where Simon broke up with Wilhelm, but in-universe it's just the next day, and Wilhelm is being comforted by Felice.
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Subtext: This entire episode is incredibly meta, there are so many times characters say things that reference earlier seasons or episodes, or the entire series as a whole. This is the first time, and Felice is saying what we're all thinking. IS IT REALLY OVER?!? 😱
Blink and you miss it: Felice gives Wilhelm her sunglasses and dries his tears so he can hide the fact that he's been crying. Also, look at that gorgeous Swedish summer. It is so pretty.
Culture: The third-years are painting the banners that go on the trucks on graduation day.
Culture: They're also signing each others' student hats, which is a common tradition. You can just sign your name or write something funny or do whatever.
Culture: This car is what we in Sweden call a sossecontainer. It's an old 90's Volvo, it's square, it's ugly, and it was pretty cheap and reliable, so it was very common and popular among working class and the lower middle classes. It was never a high-status car, so it perfectly illustrates the Eriksson family.
Subtext: Oh look, another throwback to season 1 when Sara argued with Simon about their dad, and said that he should stop giving people second chances.
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Culture: Oh look, another poem by Karin Boye. This time it's Eternity, a poem about cherishing your time with your loved one, and the text is about how good times feel like an endless summer, which is what it certainly looks like for the kids and their teacher in the lush landscape. But just like in the poem, their endless summer is about to end.
Culture: This is pretty much exactly the reason used when real-world Lundsberg was temporarily closed.
Culture: And Wilhelm isn't wrong, the shitty traditions are in the walls of the place, it's always been like that, and it's always been upheld by everyone involved with the school, parents, teachers, staff, and students.
Subtext: Since this is the last episode, let's prepare the viewers to say good bye to the show, and let's do it with a little montage of students crying and taking their stuff down and emptying their rooms.
Culture: This is a 100% factually true statement, Göteborg is the worst city in the world. Source: I'm a native Stockholmer, and you just have to trust me on this, ok? Look, it's just common sense, alright? Don't listen to people from Göteborg, they're just jealous they're not living in the glorious capital. Also, they talk funny. And they have no sense of humour! And everyone is named Glenn or something.
Culture: I don't think they're referencing an actual school here, and the current Norwegian royal children went to school in Norway, not Switzerland. But the current Danish crown prince went to some boarding school in Switzerland for a while, but then he went to the Danish elite boarding school Herlufsholm. However, it was rocked by a bullying scandal in 2022, so they had to pull him out of that one and deny all knowledge of the events. Feels familiar?
Culture: Solliden is the private summer palace of the real-world Swedish royal family located on Öland, an island off the south-east coast of Sweden. The show has consistently stayed away from every likeness with the real world, but I guess they couldn't be arsed making up a fictional summer palace for the YR royal family so they went with something familiar.
Subtext: Farima is talking about the problems of finding a new school for Wilhelm from an academic perspective, but he's just thinking about how this means he won't be close to Simon any longer.
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Culture: Vincent and the boys are pouring one out for Hillerska. It's a way to toast a dead friend, or in this case, a place.
Blink and you miss it: August places a king chess piece on the table before telling his friends that he's Wilhelm's reserve and might be king someday.
Subtext: And he's still so blinded by the glamour of it, despite everything. Thankfully, his friends can bring him down a couple of pegs.
Blink and you miss it: While Wilhelm is returning Kris, the book from last season, the second book in the pile is a book by Kjell Westö, Den Svavelgula Himlen - Yellow Sulphur Sky. It's about a working class kid in Finland becoming friends with his upper-class neighbour family, and his struggle maintaining a relationship with the girl of the family because of their class differences. Slightly on the nose there, show.
Meta: Henry interrupting our boys at the worst possible time is just a running joke at this point. How many times has it happened now? Four times? Five? Read the fucking room, Henry!
Subtext: Last chance to have a party together, but also last chance to see Simon, "maybe ever". Oh no, we have to start preparing for a sad ending!
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Culture: Red solo cups are not a thing anywhere outside the US really, but you can buy them as a gag gift in Sweden, because to us they're just a weird movie prop we've seen American movies. Every other party scene in the show has featured regular plastic cups.
Culture: Drinking with the teachers?!? Yeah, sure, why not, everyone is an adult.
Subtext: Emo outfit? ✅ Sitting on the floor? ✅ Full of self-pity? ✅ Exaggerating the catastrophic state of his world in the way only a 17yo disaster boy can do? ✅
Meta: Another throwback to how Wilhelm was referred to as the party prince back in season 1.
Blink and you miss it: Felice hides the wine bottle behind her back before Malin comes in. She knows, Felice. Malin knows everything.
Meta: Another throwback to when Wilhelm was eating the dirt at the very same football field that disaster emo boy Simon is now sitting at together with his friends, who are trying to convince him to go to the final party.
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Subtext: This time, August isn't just sorry that he got caught, he is genuinely sorry for everything he did to Wilhelm. He in turn forgives August, and we're all getting closure for this plot point.
Meta: Hey, hey, hey guys, do you remember that scene in season 1 episode 1 when Sara helped hold Felice's hair while she was throwing up? We're doing a throwback here!
Meta: Hey, hey, hey guys, do you remember that scene in season 1 episode 3 when Felice told Sara that maybe you don't have to speak the truth all the time? Well, Sara still doesn't understand why you would lie, but this time she's right, Felice was right to tell the truth.
Blink and you miss it: Stella and Fredrika are making out at the party, Felice saw it, and is making a very funny face. This is also why Stella rudely rejects Rosh, because of course she's gonna choose Fredrika, Rosh was just a distraction to make her jealous.
Subtext: Vincent is talking about Nils, who just came out, but August just saw Sara, and that's the whoever he wants.
Subtext: But despite saying that he doesn't care about anyone else seeing them, he still ducked behind a stack of pallets for this conversation.
Meta: This is a brutal Fleabag reference.
Cinematography: This scene is overwhelmingly lit in that sickly greenish fluorescent hue, but there's golden light coming from somewhere, so Sara and August share one final kiss in that golden light. But there's not enough of it to go around, not enough for their love to last, so August is left standing there alone, and all the golden light is gone.
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Cinematography: Wilhelm and Simon left the party sometime after midnight, this is supposed to be a very early morning summer sunrise, and our boys are just gonna be bathed in the golden light throughout the entire scene. Gods, it is pretty.
Meta: Hey, hey, remember that scene in season 1 when Simon was singing that song, and Wilhelm instantly fell for him?
Meta: Hey guys, remember that scene in season 1 when they were discussing welfare politics in class and Simon threw shade on Wilhelm? This is a throwback to that.
Cinematography: Just fucking look at this shit. What a nice view. The nature and the sunrise is pretty, too! Going naked into the water? Yeah, that's a rebirth metaphor as well. Lisa said so!
Subtext: This entire scene is basically Wilhelm trying one last time to get Simon back. They said they weren't gonna, but he's trying anyway. They're talking about that politics class where Wilhelm couldn't speak up because he was "not allowed". So he's still bound by his royal duties, which is why Simon broke up with him last episode.
Subtext: And since Wilhelm is still stuck, he's left on dry land, while Simon swims away from him, free. Guys, I'm thinking we're actually gonna get a sad ending! This does not look good! 😭
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Blink and you miss it: Stella and Fredrika are sleeping in the same bed and making out the morning after, and millions of #Stedrika shippers are rejoicing! Yay, fanservice!
Blink and you miss it: Walter is helping Henry up after he passed out in the grass outside after the party, and millions of #Walty shippers are rejoicing! Yay, fanservice!
Subtext: The last photo Wilhelm takes down from his wall is the one with him and Simon, because that's the most important memory of this place.
Blink and you miss it: Wilhelm shuts off his red lightstrip in his room. Those lights have typically been a symbol of his love for Simon, but he's turning it off. Sad ending confirmed.
Meta: Listen, it's a lovely little song that Simon wrote for Wilhelm, but it's 100% fanservice, it's referencing events in the show that Simon actually didn't witness, and it's even referencing the soundtrack to the show itself! I mean, come on! And we're getting yet another sad boy Wilhelm montage of him moping around Hillerska with his earbuds.
Subtext: Remember how the frog snowglobe was a gift from Erik, who in turn got it from their grandpa, the king? It's so obviously a symbol of the monarchy, but Wilhelm is dumping it in the trash. Are we... Are we not getting a sad ending?
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Cinematography: The shot of the flag being raised is cut off at half mast, which is a pretty universal symbol for mourning. Oh ok, we're back on track for a sad ending.
Subtext: This is the first time this season that Simon speaks Spanish with his mom, and the first time in the entire series that Sara does, which shows that they're fully themselves again, they've pulled themselves out of the Hillerska world.
Culture: The graduating students are having a champagne breakfast before the graduation ceremony, that's also very common in Sweden.
Subtext: Felice and the rest of the choir decided to have a little rebellion and not sing the boring old Hillerska song, and instead the new improved one that Simon made last season. No-one told him about the switch though, which is why he's so surprised.
Culture: After the ceremony, the graduating students will run out of the school to find their parents and family and friends, who are waiting for them, usually with a big sign with the most embarrassing baby picture they could find of them.
Blink and you miss it: August's mom and stepdad have also made a huge sign with an embarrassing picture of August Malte as a kid. Adorable.
Lost in translation: The queen is saying "lilla gubben", which literally means "little old man", a very common term of endearment in Swedish families. The show has been pretty consistent in that Wilhelm's family are all using normal words, just like any other family would. So it's pretty funny that despite everyone else using titles and styles all the time, to Wilhelm, his parents are simply "mamma" and "pappa", as if he was a regular kid.
Subtext: As a graduating student you get little gifts from your family, flowers, champagne, stuffed animals, all with a blue-and-yellow ribbon so you can hang them around your neck. August is family, so the Queen gives him one as well. Of a frog with a crown. Which is a symbol of the monarchy in the show. Wilhelm threw his frog in the trash, August is getting a frog from the Queen. I think there might be symbolism here! I think we're setting up August to become the next king! Do we dare hope for a happy ending?
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Cinematography: Just fucking look at this shit. The composition, the contrast, the height difference, the distance between them. It's so pretty. And they're talking about how good it was while it lasted, just like how a TV show with a sad ending can still be an amazing experience. Hint hint.
Subtext: We're saying our goodbyes, Wilhelm and Simon are saying goodbye to each other, Wilhelm wishes Simon a nice summer, just like how Simon wished Wilhelm a good Christmas back in season 1, and just like back then, they both understand that they love each other, but can't be together.
Cinematography: And then Simon exits the scene, again, leaving Wilhelm standing there alone, again, having seemingly chosen his family and royal duty.
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Culture: It's common to either rent a truck as a large group of students, or to be driven in a flashy car alone or with a friend. The two girls in the centre are sitting in a very nice Aston Martin, while a bunch of their classmates are on a truck. I can't make out the full text on the banner, but I think it says something like "Lock up your sons because tonight we become like animals".
Culture: Svensson is a very common Swedish last name, so to "be a Svensson" basically means that you're super average and mediocre, you're like everyone else. Whereas these elite kids are used to having everyone else bow and scrape for them, so that message is on brand.
Cinematography: We're in the car, it looks like the ending of season 1, and we're doing a close-up of Wilhelm's face. We're ready for the fourth-wall-break of him staring sadly into the camera, having been once again broken down by the system and not getting the boy. We've said goodbye to everyone, roll the credits, start your crying...
Cinematography: ...except the show isn't ending here. We're having an honest conversation between Wilhelm and his parents for the first time. Because every other time he's said that he doesn't want to be crown prince of the next king, he's been angry or upset, he's been threatening, and definitely impulsive. But he's never wanted any of it.
Cinematography: His parents let him go, they open the door to their van, Wilhelm exits, and the show turns up the volume of the soundtrack. "Energetic music" my ass, it's the Harmony theme! It's the main theme of the entire show playing as Wilhelm runs away.
Subtext: Oh, yeah, August sees him run away, and understands that he's next in line now. Sorry buddy, sucks to be you, but never mind that now. RUN, WILHELM, RUN!!! GET YOUR MAN!
Cinematography: The shows turns into the most perfect rom-com, with Wilhelm chasing down Simon's car through the incredibly lush and green Swedish summer. He catches up to them, tells Simon that he ditched the crown for his own sake, and asks if it's really over between them.
VAD FAN TROR DU?
As if the soundtrack wasn't triumphant enough, it now starts playing As Long As you Are Here as they throw themselves in each other's arms. Happy ending! They're crying, I'm crying, we're all crying! 😭
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Cinematography: A montage? With all the best scenes between our boys from the entire show? With the text of the soundtrack perfectly matching the montage? I should be outraged at how cheesy this is, but it is perfect. Perfect. I love it. I swear, this fucking show.
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Subtext: Finally we are at the true ending of the show. Wilhelm has managed to escape Hillerska, him and Simon and Sara and Felice have all escaped the hierarchies, the expectations, the duties, and the toxic environment of the school. He arrived in a Ferrari, and is now running away with his boyfriend and friends in a crappy Volvo station-wagon. The stiff suit jackets are gone, they're all in white, his hair is ruffled in the wind, and for the last time ever Wilhelm looks into the camera. And he smiles.
He is finally free.
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keyotosprompts · 2 days
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not easy to please ⋆⭒˚。⋆
alternatives to popular tropes
⇴ siblings's worst enemy
they're your sibling's enemy, so of course they're yours too. they're despicable and you seriously want them dead. luckily for you, the feeling's mutual.
⇴ struggling ceo and their know-it-all office worker
how did this mf become the ceo of one of the most progressive countries in the world?? they're clueless and you're the one that has to fix all their mistakes. you seriously don't get paid enough for this (unless they can come up with another way to pay you).
⇴ marriage of inconvenience
what happens in vegas stays in vegas. except when you've signed an official marriage contract, and everything is so much more complicated before. now this person is stuck with you until you can divorce! (or will you?)
⇴ forbidden hate
your parents absolutely adore the idea of the two of you together. they have wedding pinterest boards, future plans, and baby names for the two of you. only one thing: you two kinda hate each other, and hell would have to freeze over before you'd ever get with them.
⇴ no more second chances
sorry dude! f'ed up really bad the first time, and now you're not giving anymore chances, and your ex has to deal with the consequences. one problem: they can't deal with the consequences bc they're literally in love with you. hm. just what will this person do to get you back?
⇴ not so secret identity
everyone knows who they are. not even the old mask and hat trick could prevent people from identifying them. and it's fine–they absolutely bask in the fame. one problem though: they're a constant target to the entire world. perfect!
⇴ separated from each other
they never get any alone time. alone together in an elevator? too bad, a party of ten just showed up, pushing the two of you on the opposite side of the elevator. finally alone at home? nope! unfortunately, your friends make a surprise visit! oh how will you two ever get past this?
⇴ "you deserved it."
a normal person would've asked "who did this to you?" except your bond is not normal. not in the slightest. i mean seriously, what does this person want from you?
⇴ "i can't have you, so i'll let someone else take my place."
they know that they're not good enough for you, and that you deserve someone better than them. so, they choose to let you go, and hope that someone else can make your world light up like they used to
⇴ the one that is still here
everywhere you go, this person is there. whether it's physically, mentally, or spiritually, everything ties back to them. everything reminds you of them. you couldn't even escape if you tried.
⇴ playboy but he's actually a nerd that cannot get play
he's gorgeous–he's the most attractive man you think you've ever seen in your life. you think he's probably got it all–girls or boys coming up to him nonstop. only, that's not true in the slightest. somehow, he's managed to fumble every single time.
⇴ nobody wants the bad boy
he's troubled. there are rumors of him starting fights 24/7, and he lives in a bad area. he could really fuck someone up. nobody wants him.
⇴ "you must be delusional"
lovers that know that they're in love with each other, but when admitting it to their friends, they shut down their feelings.
⇴ loving someone to save them
none of that breaking up nonsense. love is power. their love and support causes you to be stronger than ever. knowing that there's love out there gives you a reason to keep on going. love saves you.
⇴ too smart to live
you've outdone yourself this time. bypassed every guard, rule, and law without anyone catching you. so, of course, there's only one solution here: to eliminate you.
⇴ different worlds (revised)
you grew up poor while they grew up rich. now, in the present, you are the more successful one, while they are struggling to get their life together. now, you must help the one who used to be in your current position, and fix things together.
⇴ one-sided blind date
rule one of having a blind date: you should not know who you're meeting. well, too late! you sneaked a peek at your friend's phone and found out who you'll be seeing soon. now, you're scrambling to get out of this date because you know exactly who it is.
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I'm rewatching Trollhunters in the background right now, and the disfunctional mother son relationship between Jim and his mom is making me crazy.
Like, he's taking care of the household and his mother for years as a teenager and before probably. She is sometimes giving half hearted comments about him not having to do so much, but very obviously she's not gonna make him stop do all the cooking and cleaning. Y'know. Both because they've been living like this for years, and because it's obviously also very comfortable to have someone do all the house work.
Then Strickler comes into the picture, and if we ignore the whole Troll and changeling side of the story, Barabara gets very offended cause Jim doesn't want her to meet him privately. Again, ignoring the whole magic and trolls stuff, STRICKLER IS JIMS TEACHER. If Jim hadn't figured out that Strickler was a changeling he probably wouldn't have a problem with it, but the fact that he does, no matter the reason, should be enough for Barbara to put a stop to the relationship. Her child is clearly uncomfortable with her seeing/dating that guy, for whatever reason, and even clearly vocalized it. But she doesn't care about, or rather, she tells Jim that she "wouldn't expect something like that" from him. Obviously not, cause she may see him like her child/teenager he is, BUT DOESN'T TREAT HIM LIKE ONE.
And then Jim, unknowingly to Barbara, becomes the Trollhunter, and his behavior changes. He's suddenly doing reckless stuff, sneaking out, getting bruises, landing in detention and even at the police station, barely avoiding a police report. What does she do? Asking him what's going on? If everything's alright at school? If he has any other problems? Maybe trying to lower his workload around the house, which again, he's doing most of that as a teenager and longer probably.
Nah. She doesn't do anything until he lands in the hospital. Except for again, dismissing him rather negatively at the one topic he's openly expressing any negative opinions about (Strickler). And after he lands in the hospital she now starts not asking questions, but demanding answers. Demanding answers from a teenager in a difficult situation who is also now acting much more like a teenager than he ever did before, from her point of view at least. Except she obviously doesn't know how to deal with a teenager, cause she has never had to raise or live with a teenager. She instead lived with a child pretending to be an adult for years, that was partly much more of an adult than she was, who did way to much work even before Jim became the Trollhunter. So she throws punishments at him and grounds him, but does he listen?
No. Cause why should he? Not only is he dealing with things much more important than being grounded, yknow, saving the world, he's trying to protect her from the sheer knowledge of the supernatural and physically protecting her from getting harmed. And again, for the majority of the time since his dad left he pretended to be an adult. He was and is the main adult in the household, dealing with important things she doesn't even know about.
The only one's treating Jim like a teenager are teachers, other children and Blinky and Aaargh sort of when they're not in the middle of Troll business. Strickler, in the first episodes where Jim doesn't know about his true identity, is much more of a parental figure to Jim (also after his redemption later on tbh) than his mother.
In summary: Barbara is treating her son like an adult, almost like a partner, instead of a child/teenager. And when that isn't possible anymore she doesn't know how to properly treat him. She also doesn't really care that her son is uncomfortable with her being around Strickler, or Strickler in general. And it takes Blinky telling her (when Jim is 16) that Jim might be affected by his father leaving when he was five years old.
Jim meanwhile is treating his mother more like a child/teenager instead of the adult and MOTHER that she is. Seeing her as his responsibility. Cooking for her. Cleaning for her. Telling her to rest and take breaks.
They obviously love each other other. And their relationship might not be toxic, but it's very much disfunctional. In a way that is mostly negative for Jim.
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bymarara · 1 day
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Will and the Boys Don't Cry.
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Remember the picture when we were first shown Will on his birthday? In case anyone hasn't noticed, there were headphones in the picture and let's think, who else was wearing headphones and under what circumstances? Uh, Max! Max wore them so that she wouldn't fall under the full influence of Vecna and become his victim, music helped her so called survival.
Now let's get to why Will carries them around. I have two suggestions.
Everyone on the team has headphones now just in case Vecna decides to face someone.
Will is scared. Will himself realizes that he can feel Vecna's presence, in addition he will probably hear him, his voice and his thoughts, which will be very frightening to Byers. Because of the fear, he may choose his favorite song and walk around with headphones on at all times, so that if anything happens, he won't be influenced by Vekna and Vekna won't take over Will's mind. I also think that there will be a similar situation as with Lumax, that Mike will have to turn on these headphones in case of anything, I think Will will warn him alone about it all, thus trusting Mike.
Now something I've been thinking about very, very hard. Most people, and I think or thought that Will's song would be “Should I Stay or Should I Go”, but if you notice the details, you can see the poster in Will's room! “Boys don't cry”, this song references Will in a lot of ways, and if it's in season 5 in his headphones, it will be very symbolic, and will show the meaning of everything we've seen.
Let's take Max as an example. She has “Running Up That Hill” in her headphones. The lines from the song literally refer to what Max is feeling and it also shows how she feels about Billy and how she regrets what happened at the end of season 3 and how she would take it all back. The chorus from her song, literally speaks to Max's morale and what she wants. -And if I only could, I'd make a deal with God, And I'd get him to swap our places, Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, Be running up that building. If I only could, oh These lines literally refer to the fact that if Max had known what would happen, she would not have stood still, but would have tried to help her half-brother. She would have been ready even for the same death as her brother, as long as he did not die. Also, there are very interesting lines like.
“You don't want to hurt me,but see how deep the bullet lies.” which refers to their relationship while Billy was alive. The guy hurt his sister, which she hasn't forgotten, and that deep down inside of her, she wished him dead inside of her, which she now regrets.
What about Will? I know most people have already figured this out, but for those who haven't and don't know the context - this song is about the inner thoughts that guys have when they're going through an unpleasant/transitional moment in their lives. It's also popular in the LGBT+ community. Let's go through the parts that I find most interesting and start from the beginning. -I would say I'm sorry, If I thought that it would change your mind. But I know that this time, I have said too much. Somehow it reminds me a lot of Will helping Mike with his relationship with Al, while ignoring his feelings and even confessing his feelings while hiding under his sisters name. Also, I think there's a season five reference here. I mean, Will could talk about the painting and the speech, but not say what he meant about his feelings! And the lines “I would say I'm sorry if I thought that it would change your mind.” show that Mike could have left with some anger and it left a mark on Will and that he can't even apologize now, and that apologizing won't change anything. (Yes, I know I sound creepy, please.) Now let's get to the chorus. -I tried to laugh about it,
Cover it all up with lies. I tried to laugh about it, Hiding the tears in my eyes. Cause boys don't cry. Boys don't cry. Sounds like Will's confession to Mike to me. He's not showing his real feelings, he's hiding everything under the “Al” mask. and underneath the mask, he keeps his feelings hidden, not showing them. He himself, quietly crying, quietly suffering, realizing for himself that his feelings will never be reciprocated, that he will have to live with it and come to terms with it, and he buries it all by himself and tries to cope with it all by himself. -I would tell you, That I loved you, If I thought that you would stay. But I know that it's no use, That you've already, Gone away… Again he says that he has buried all his hopes and feelings, he sees Mike pulling away from him and as if he is walking away from him, so talking about feelings, about declarations of love is useless in his opinion. Literally the whole song shows Will, shows a guy who in his opinion has already missed his chance, he realizes that he can't change anything and hides himself and his feelings only deeper into himself.
I hope that Will will have this song in season 5, but I will also say that there is a possibility that in case of anything, Mike can play this song, so much in this song refers to Mike.
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the-lil-spud · 20 hours
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Mama Didn't Raise no Bimbo Part Three!
Part three is here my gorgeous little demons! Now just to warn you all this is literally a filler part BUT it explains a bit of why Angel invited Y/N up to the tower when we had warned her away before!
Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four
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Getting in the elevator you almost didn’t turn back to face the two Vee’s. Your nerves almost getting the better of you. But if you didn’t turn you just knew that would be a win for them. So, you straighten your spine, mentally pull your big girl panties up and turn as gracefully as you can with your best award winning smile to face them both.
The two predatory smirks and narrowed eyes directed at you made your dead heart thump in your chest.
You were so fucked!  
So, the entire taxi ride to the club you and Angel didn’t say a word to each other, a few awkward glances here and there but not a word. You watched out the corner of your eye him open and close his mouth various times as if to say something and then stop themselves. After the sixth time it was starting to wind you up.
Finally reaching the club you both make your way to your usual booth; waving over at the bartender and point to the vodka bottles behind them – your usual poison on nights out with Angel. Something was telling you that you’d be needing it more tonight. Waiting until you both had a full glass you down it in one, wincing at the sting before pouring yourself another. Catching Angel open and close his mouth again you grumble under your breath.
“Right Angel, cut the bullshit what the fuck was that back there?” Leaning back against your chair your narrowed gaze focused on the squirming demon in front.
“What do you mean what the fuck? What the fuck was with you flirtin’ with the Vee’s?” Crossing his arms defensively, glaring right back at you.
“Like fuck I was flirting! If you hadn’t noticed I was trying to escape some very unwanted advances. Which, by the way, only happened because you invited me up there in the first place!” You knocked back another glass of vodka. Wincing again you try to push down the small bit of guilt that was rising. You knew it wasn’t Angel’s fault that Vox and Valentino had acted like they did. And sure, maybe you did flirt a little bit back with them, but it was mainly out of self-preservation. Only a tiny bit was because you thought they were a hot and what girl doesn’t like a bit of attention off rich and charismatic demons? Especially when you knew you shouldn’t like the attention.
The conflicted look that graced Angel’s face made you take notice. Pouring two drinks for you both, pushing his glass towards him you ask: “what is with the face sugar?” Pulling at his bow tie he grimaced before necking his drink then taking your full one from your hand and finishing that one too. Rude.
“That isn’t exactly the way it went down Y/n”, gesturing for you to pour another round you do so but with a slight frown. What did he mean? Deciding to sip on his next drink he sighed after a moment, avoiding your eyes he admitted: “I didn’t wanna invite you up there Y/n, but Val asked me too – turns out Vox wanted to meet you”.
The drink you were sipping managed to catch in the middle of your throat, holding a hand up to your mouth you started to cough up the vodka. Eyes watering and confusion bubbling you banged on your chest with your other hand. Angel quickly sat beside you giving your back a swift tap to help dislodge the liquid. After a few moments you managed to catch your breath, turning in the seat to focus on Angel, pushing your drink back on the table.
“He what? Vox wanted to meet me?”
Angel wiped a few of the escaped tears off your cheeks with his gloved fingers, a crooked smile on his face, “yeeep, weird right?” Just a tad.
“Hang on. So let me get this crystal clear. Vox asked Val to tell you to invite me up to the Vee tower all because he wanted to meet me?”
Nodding he slips your now full glass back in your hand. Huh. It was weird.
“Well yeah sugar tits, did no red flags go up when I asked you to come considering how much I bitch about Val?” A sheepish grin tugs the corner of your lips as you shrug at Angel, even when you were alive you were an idiot for ignoring red flags. “Look babe, all I know – and you didn’t hear this from me – is that Vox heard you singing on Alastor’s show and wanted to know who you were. Val managed to rub two brain cells together and figured out that I knew you and when Vox asked him, he then came to me and demanded that I get you to the tower somehow. I’m sorry Y/n I didn’t know what they were gonna do and I should have found a way to warn you or said no some more, but you know how Val is and I ju”-
Holding up your hand to stop him talking, you processed all the information. Knowing Valentino, he wouldn’t have given Angel an option to say no especially with that damn contract they had. The logical thought here was Vox probably just wanted to see if you were a threat as you were connected to Alastor – the Radio Demon – both had an extreme dislike towards one another. So it was reasonable to believe he was just checking out the competition. The illogical (and wishful thinking) part was that he wanted you for other reasons other than seeing if you were a threat, instead just wanting you for and in nefarious different ways. Pushing that thought aside for later you realised you had been quiet for a few minutes and Angel was starting to panic.
Giving his hand a gentle squeeze to stop the panic “you do not have to apologise Angel; I know if you could have prevented me from going there you would have. You are bound by your contract; I don’t hold you responsible at all. Plus, they are the Vee’s, they’d have found another way to meet me and could be that wouldn’t have gone quite so smoothly”.
A relieved sigh heaved from his chest, a small smile was back on his face, glad your friend was feeling better you sipped at your drink checking the demons out around you before Angel’s voice caught your attention again.
“Just becareful Y/n. You know you can’t trust them as far as you can throw them”, his no-nonsense look made a smile twitch at the corner of your lips. Isn’t that basically everyone in hell? Well, everyone apart from dear Princess Charlie.
“Gorgeous do I look that stupid? I ain’t about to go looking for trouble so don’t you worry about me, plus I think they’ll leave me be now. They’ve met me, mystery over, they’ll be bored and hopefully will find some other poor fool to stalk” you reason while finishing your drink.
An unimpressed Angel snorted at that. And to be honest, you were unimpressed with yourself too as you didn’t even believe your own bullshit. Remembering the sparks that came from Vox’s claws on your hips, or the powerful grip of Valentino on your chin … yeah you could only pray that they would leave you alone. But somehow you couldn’t quite see that happening.
Could you?
A small vibrate coming from your phone captured your attention, pulling it out of your purse you glance up as Angel goes up to the bar to either get more drinks or drugs. Glaring daggers at a demon who bumped into your table with their drunkenness you bare your fangs before they even open their mouth to say some drivel that you probably have heard hundreds of times before. Drunken idiots were the same in hell as they were on Earth. Opening your phone you are pretty sure you had lost your eyebrows up into your hairline.
Your notifications had gone crazy. Confused you drag open Sintagram to see you had suddenly gained thousands of follows and likes. What the fuck? Not that you were complaining but what the hell. Angel returned to the table with a cup of pills and a bottle of whiskey. Before he could sit you grabbed his hand and shoved your phone into it.
“What now?” Gesturing to the notifications he started to laugh. “Ooooh sugar, finally you are reaching my level of stardom so what did ya do? Show those glorious tits finally on here? Accidental nip slip? Not so accidental nip-slip?” His chuckles became louder as your cheeks got redder.
“No nothing like that, or I hope to Hell that I didn’t on my last post!” Going to grab your phone, Angel shoved you back in your chair as he started flicking through your notifications. Grumbling in defeat you grab the bottle of whiskey and pour yourself a shot. You’d drink yourself to death, but you stayed away from the drugs here – you took a purple pill when you first came to hell and couldn’t move for nearly a week.
“Welllllll… it’s no nip slip”, a sly smirk was tugging at his lips, and he popped a pill into his mouth. Pouring another shot of whiskey, you raise your eyebrows up in question. “Seems like it’s not just the two Vee’s attention you managed to grab”. Frowning you take your phone off the now smug demon. You paused in shock when you see.
Seems Velvette had tagged your photo on her story with the hashtag #newmodel? Flicking your gaze back up to an amused Angel.
“Well toots … you might as well collect all three than just two. Here’s to you babe - you are so fucked”. He raised his glass. Raising your own you blink in shock.
Fucked was right.
Tagged: @tasha-1994
A03 link is here
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heraxic · 16 hours
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i just need to let u know your ais and leander redesigns live in my head as the voices. i started the game absolutely hating leander and by hate i mean i would rather lose my dignity being dragged in the street naked while the townsfolk yelled obscenities at me and my family stoned to death before my very eyes before i liked him and your leander made me not only reconsider but do an absolute 180. you are a prophet of god i fear. they whisper divine truths into your ear and i wept tears of joy at seeing salvation in light on my screen. i also felt ais had a lot of wasted potential as a monstrous gang leader of the primordial soup but yours was so flamboyant and absolutely Him™. if there are 100 heraxic design fans im one of them. if there is 1 heraxic design fan its me. if there are no heraxic design fans im DEAD
THANK YOUU WOW
leander’s the one who made me wanna redesign them all in the first place cause his amiability Did Not match how sleazy he looks, and it was kind of jarring to have him be super kind and friendly and have his face be so untrustworthy, like he was fully set on poisoning you. he shouldve looked more jovial is my point
monsters that dont look monstrous are par for the course for visual novels but i cannot excuse faces not matching personalities
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delta-pavonis · 13 hours
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Fic Teaser: Parasomnia
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(The morning after Special Exhibition, so spoilers there if you haven't read it. This little bit is rated T.)
Dear Dream,
Many would start such a note with “I just couldn't bear to wake you…” but, to be quite honest, I fear it would be too disingenuous given that I did everything short of cracking the smelling salts to wake you before I left. I was worried enough that I checked all your vitals. Upon finding you not dead, nor bradycardic, nor hypotensive, nor hypoxic, nor hypoglycemic, I decided you needed the rest.
Make yourself at home. And I mean that truly. Hell, you know where the toys are kept if you somehow feel the urge. (I, for one, am giving my bollocks and backside a break for at least a few days. No regrets, though.) There is barely any food in the pantry because of my holiday schedule, but there is plenty of coffee and tea. Enjoy anything and everything I have in stock. Or just order takeaway.
I left my car here and took the tube in. Keys are by the front door. You are welcome to drive my car to the hospital or get on a block south and ride in to pick up your car. I told the hospital parking attendant to log it under my name, so no rush getting here, your car is safe.
Rest. Go back to sleep if you want. (Actually, drink a glass of water first. We exerted ourselves rather, ah, thoroughly last night.) Take all the time you need. 
I’ll be back about 6 tomorrow morning. If you're around, we can have breakfast. If not, I hope I’ll see you soon. 
Text me when you are up and moving?
Yours,
Hob
P.S. Last night was fantastic. You are absolutely stunning. xoxo
Dream reads the letter fully three times before putting it down.
“Yours.”
Something in his chest soars.
Mine.
He wants Hob to be his very, very badly. 
Probably in ways Hob very much does not intend. 
Probably. 
Dream drops the note to run his hands over his face and flops back onto the bed. The sheets smell of Hob and he turns to press his cheek into them before he can think better of it.
Oh, yeah, he’s proper fucked. 
One hand wanders down to his abdomen, to above his groin, and for a moment he feels Hob within him again and groans. His other hand lands on the bruising on his shoulder, presses softly, just enough to remind him of Hob's mouth. 
Dream closes his eyes and remembers the taste of Hob, his skin and mouth and sweat and cum. He suddenly misses him, desperately. 
Which is insane. 
They’ve known each other–actually known each other, not the weird parasocial relationship he had with Hob via his TikTok ASMR videos–less than a week. How can Dream possibly miss him?!?
This is just the rush of a new relationship. It will pass. It will pass.
But Dream doesn't want it to pass. 
God, it has been ages since he felt this good. Since he had someone respond to him, to his intensity, in kind, to meet him punch for punch. It is what he thought Corin would be, or Calliope, or, fuck, Nada way back when. He thought they could become this. He and Killala had it for one bright, shining moment, before they burned themselves out.
And yet here Hob is, matching his steps, following his lead in this dance, seemingly without much effort, on the first try. Dream is going to have a whole lot of trouble letting that go, now that he knows it possible. 
Fuck.
Dream grabs his phone from where it was placed on the nightstand next to the letter and looks at the time. 
Which makes him sit up in bed like a shot.
It is almost five in the evening. He has slept for over twelve hours.
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sunnyswide · 1 day
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Murderer POLY 141 x kidnapped reader
Part two of this
They all seemed to enjoy it at first but the longer they spent playing this “game” the more real it got. Their psychotic brains confusing obsession with “love”. No they didn't love you. At least, that's what they told themselves every day as they fucked your brains out. It was hard to just stay with one guy when they seemed to be forcing their ways into your life.. And you.
So instead you wanted to “discuss” the truths with all of them. You couldn't live in a lie, you either tell all of them or none of them and let them find out. The latter option was least desirable.
So you sent them a message, a quick meetup at a private joint 3 blocks down. A perfect underground cafe you always were fond of. The mood, the music, and the secrecy. Barely anyone knew about the place.
“Be there at 8, don't be late!”
You were scared sure, but what would go wrong?
Your hands fidgeted at the hem of your top. You couldn't help the jittery feeling racing through your body.
“Its going to be okay”
You whispered to yourself, trying to catch your quaking breath. Why was this so hard for you!? Its not like they were in love..
It was too late to back down anyway as you descended the steps toward the dim light. The air was thicker then usual, a familiar smell flooded the area.. It was overwhelmingly strong but you brushed it off.
The door opened with a chime, and the smell got stronger. It wasn't rotten.. But more ash-like. A strong burning smell with a mix of..
“Hey!”
You spot the group on the wall near the fireplace. They seemed to be getting along, chatting like they knew each other forever.
“What took ya so long” Gaz scooted over, setting the large black bag onto the ground.
“Should’ve came later, we were setting bets on how long it’ll take”
“Pay up soap, she came 10 minutes late, I win” ghost nudged Soap’s elbow, holding his hand out for the money.
“Stop playing around, the little lady here clearly got something important” Price stared at you calmy, he seemed to be the only one giving a shit-
You giggled at the sight. All of them seemed so close, it would be easy to assume they were friends from a glance.
“Do you guys know each other? Cause that would make this a lot.. Uhm worse”
“Course we know each other luv, we’ve been friends since.. Shit how long’s it been?”
Ghost leaned back, crossing his arms against his chest. Fuck this was going terribly.
“Cant remember”
Soap shrugged, taking another swish of his water, ice cubes clinking on the side.
“I guess we can talk about this over some food..”
You look around, finally realizing the place was quiet. Completely empty. The counter had no one behind it, the kitchen was silent and no one occupied any other booth. They looked at you, all smiles and rainbows, like nothing was wrong.
The air became thicker.. The fire burned brighter, dropping sparking ashes across the floor. They seemed oddly happy, I mean oddly happy like they didn't notice the place was a dead zone.
“So why’d you tell us to come here” Gaz slipped a hand over your shoulder, which didn't surprise anyone like you thought.
You clear your throat, reaching for your bag to pull out your phone. Yes you decided to write some notes on your phone to prepare.
“So.. Uhm you se-”
You look down at your purse, slipping your fingers into the smaller pockets.. Before noticing a small object at the front of your shoes. You realize the white material on the tip of leather was a surprising red.
“I wanted to..”
Your sentences were cut short as you slowly slipped your foot back.. A small puddle of blood smeared across the floor beneath where your shoes were.
“Go to the bathroom first!”
You smile, quickly standing up with your phone in your hand. You giggle awkwardly and calmly walk towards the lady's room. Quickly opening the door and gently closing it before you run to the sink. Your face flushed pale, as you feel yourself gag.
“A.. A TO- Tooth”
You scream impulsively.. Immediately covering your mouth with your hands. You watch the door through the mirror, praying none of them heard.
You look down at your shoe, it wasn't a hallucination, the blood still seeping into the leather, leaving a thin trail of drying blood across white tiles. You grab at your throat, trying to calm your breathing. No ones here. The staff. Cashier. Waiter. No one. No one is here.
You look to the door, only option was to book it right? The burning smell seeped through the doorway.. As you finally realize what that smell was.
The smell of Flesh
You run to the bathroom door, slamming it open..
“Hello princess.. All ready?”
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rosvyy · 3 days
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cute lil "no longer you" analysis
Ok guys so like we know how the oracle works? Yeah yeah yeah, they say smth and no matter what you do, it will come true because of what you do. However, there are different pathways obvs. So tiresias is like, "Yeah theres a lot of your journeys, odysseys if you will, and there are good an bad endings. I know there is a good ending here for you, but I dont know it here, it isnt yours." HOWEVER it could change. It isnt set in stone yet. He sings the prophecy. He sings what is most likely going to happen from this moment onwards, how in the musical Eurylochus stands up and is killed 'a brothers final stand' and the 'sacrifice of man' being scylla and how odysseus didnt do anything to prevent the death of the men. I think the 'last breath' is in reference to "Get in the Water" but it could also be when he washes up on Claypsos shore, although I doubt it cause thats a stretch. Cause like... yeah no. Odysseus is like "Hold on. No thats not fair. We have been well, we have been using other means instead of violence so we can be fair, this ISNT fair! Then Tiresias goes on to recite more of this version of the prophecy, how Penelope will be reunited with a man who isnt anything like Odysseus is. NOW this is where it matters imo. This prophecy differs so heavily from the book, but in the book there is a choice. He tells the men to not eat any cattle they come across or else they will suffer from it and Odysseus will arrive home much later than what he would like. The option of choice is still there, eat the cattle or do not. Odysseus being doomed by the narrative has this choice screwed by his crew, but it was still presented to him none the less. Epic doesnt go this route on a surface listen. There is no clear choice but the indication is still there. After Tiresia has finished the current prophecy, it comes down to Odysseus to place how the story will go. He could either "greet the world with open arms" and try beg Tiresia to tell him the other worlds and other prophecy's, or he could go down the path the Gods favour of anger and suffering. Upon hearing his wife is with a man "with a trail of bodies", he screams "who" with such desperation and anger which the audience has never heard before. Without even saying so, it has implemented and foreshadowed the vengeance and anger he holds to this man who has taken his wife. This is dramatic irony to the audience who knows what will happen, how he turns into this man. He doesnt hate him, he becomes him, so that he can seek vengeance on who Tiresia described. It also can be interpreted from the lines already presented by Tiresia that the man is Odyssesy, as his crew, the 558 men who died, trail behind him as 'the past is always close behind'. A trail of bodies which he met only a song prior to "no longer you". The "Who" line which Odysseus screams cements his fate, the anger and choice of bitterness athena steered him to and Poseidon reimplemented being chosen over the advice his dead friend gave him. This is when Tiresias repeats the first verse, the repetition illustrating how that world now is this world. It cements that there is no change to be done, Odysseus path will end in a trail of bodies which is greater than the one he already bears, and the sacrifices he must make in order to reunite with his wife while becoming something akin to the Devine whilst staying mortal, a monster.
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tobiasdrake · 24 hours
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Incidentally, we can't really talk about pragmatism without talking about Future Trunks.
Krillin is a devious and underhanded martial artist, but still a martial artist. Trunks is an assassin. He goes straight for the throat at every opportunity. He's not here to fight; He's here to kill.
Much like his father, Trunks is not a martial artist. Every bit Vegeta's son, he's naturally gifted and has already become a Super Saiyan by both of his first appearances - in the story, when he fights Frieza on Earth, and also chronologically in Trunks the Story: A Lone Warrior.
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I can't really say he's untrained. He was trained in the basics by Gohan. But Gohan is also not a martial artist; He's had one year and six months of proper martial arts training. One year from Piccolo and six months from Krillin.
Gohan's a fighter, guided by emotion moreso than technique. So there's a limit to how much Trunks can learn from him. Even Gohan admits that he's a poor substitute for his dad.
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This, I should note, is a meaningful admission from Gohan because this chapter was published at the very beginning of the Cell Games. Gohan outright saying "I wanted to follow in my dad's footsteps but the clothes aren't enough" sets up an important contrast to the Gohan of the present time who has had that time with Goku and is ready to take his place.
But his concession of inadequacy is important for how we interpret Trunks as well. Trunks knows the stuff. He can perform Bukujutsu. Throw ki blasts. Power up into a Super Saiyan. But he's not Goku or Krillin or Yamcha or Tenshinhan; Like Gohan and Vegeta, he is a fighter, not a martial artist.
His heart is in the right place, but he's reckless and foolhardy. Chomping at the bit for a piece of vengeance.
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This recklessness carries into his journey to the past. He never quite learns from his brief offscreen shitstomp by the Twins. He returns to a point in history just after Goku's return from space. Historically, this was a key moment in history where Goku showed up in the nick of time to save Earth from Frieza and his father King Cold. Which should technically be Great King Cold as it's Cold-Daio but he's far from the first king to have his Greatness dropped in translation, eh Piccolo?
But when Goku's late to the party, Trunks starts to worry and decides to step in himself.
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Look at him. The spitting image of his father, full of piss and vinegar.
It's here that we get to see Trunks as a fighter for the very first time. Even chronologically; In Trunks the Story, they skip most of the action; It's very brief.
I mean. It's an absolutely hilarious joke that we see Trunks flying off half-cocked to go get revenge and then he's waking up from a coma on the very next page. Amazing cutaway gag.
But we're here to talk about Trunks's DNA as a fighter, so Frieza offers us the first material we have to work with. And Trunks? He does not fuck around.
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Your soldiers are dead. Who's next?
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You're dead. Who's next?
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Your father's dead. We done here?
Trunks gives zero shits. In the span of two chapters, he massacres Frieza, Cold, and all of their soldiers without an ounce of hesitation. He is not playing.
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He was even paying attention to the part where Frieza can survive grievous amounts of harm and come back. He takes great care to thoroughly and utterly annihilate every last bit of Frieza. Taking no chances.
Trunks isn't here to fight. He's here to kill. He is not interested in a protracted martial arts bout.
This fight, incidentally, also gives us a moment to talk about Trunks's sword. Cold-Dumbass thinks Trunks's sword is the key to his power.
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He's an idiot. There's a reason he only exists for like three chapters and one page of a fourth. This man doesn't even understand how weapons work in anime.
Japan and the West have very different relationships with weapons. When Westerners think of weapons, we think of guns. Even when we write medieval weapons, we treat them like guns. Guns are disposable tools that bestow killing power upon their wielder. Any average Joe with a gun suddenly becomes a lethal warrior.
But Japan has a rich history and philosophy baked into their culture surrounding weapons and their role in martial arts. In anime, a weapon does not grant power; It manifests power. The weapon is an extension of its wielder. It's a means by which the wielder expresses their own strength.
In Trunks's hands, that sword can cut through Frieza. Because Trunks is powerful, and his might outshines Frieza's.
In Cold's hands, however, that sword is harmless. Because Cold is weak and cowardly. (Uh, relative to Trunks.) He has no power to express.
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But Goku is strong. Goku knows power intimately, far beyond Trunks's understanding. And so Trunk's sword, his expression of power, is useless against Goku.
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This is what Trunks's sword means, to him and to the story. It's an extension of his character and his strength; The means by which he delivers his killing force. Which is precisely what makes this moment so devastating.
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When 18 breaks Trunks's sword, she breaks Trunks. The damage to his blade is honestly not that severe. It could probably be reforged. But the damage to Trunks's self-image, to his psyche, is unshakable.
Trunks never uses his sword again. He leaves it on the plane here.
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And then we never see it again. Instead, Trunks decides to pursue greater martial arts training alongside his father, following in Vegeta's footsteps.
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But he never quite loses his assassin streak. Though he begins to develop his abilities as a fighter from this point forward, Trunks is goal-oriented. He wants to kill the Twins. He doesn't care how that happens.
In the original version of these events, before Cell further altered the timeline, those blueprints were the key to Trunks's victory against the Twins of his timeline.
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Though Cell has no idea how Trunks pulled off this victory despite being too weak to defend himself from Cell himself, the discovery of Gero's lab offers us a possible explanation.
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The Twins have shutdown switches built into their systems. Though 17 destroyed the remote Gero built, Bulma is able to use these blueprints to build a new one.
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So there's a solid implication that the weaker Trunks of Cell's timeline took Bulma's remote home with him and disabled the Twins that way. Again: He's not here to fight. He's here to kill. It doesn't matter how he does it.
...well, I guess it does matter 'cause that Trunks got wasted by Cell five minutes later.
Point is, Trunks wears his goal-oriented ruthlessness on his sleeve. He's not driven by pride of by love of the art. He has a job he's here to do.
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However that single-minded focus, that determination to get it done, also holds him back. Trunks has never had proper martial training. He's been taught by Future Gohan, who is not a martial artist. And he's... taught himself near Vegeta. His developed his abilities and increased his strength, but he doesn't know fighting the way Goku or Krillin or Yamcha or Ten do. Nor does he have Vegeta's natural brilliance and general understanding.
Trunks, for all his strength and all his determination and all his killing instinct, is an amateur. We all know what happened to him in the last fight he ever fought here in the present.
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Vegeta breaks the limits of the Super Saiyan and realizes that this power is good but comes at a cost, so he should only do it sparingly.
Goku breaks the limits of the Super Saiyan and realizes this form sucks and is stupid, and decides to go a different route entirely.
But Trunks breaks the limits of the Super Saiyan and goes "AWWW YEAH THIS IS THE SHIT GIMME THAT POWER" because he doesn't know. He has a killer's instinct, not a martial artist's. He's never been trained in technique.
We see, over the course of this series, both Trunks's strengths and his weaknesses as a fighter. In every altercation, he goes straight for the throat. Which is brutally effective when he has the power to back it up but Trunks, more than anyone, is vulnerable to a crushing defeat if he doesn't have the Power Level to back it up. He has nothing else.
Still, he gets to go out on a high note. His final chapter sees him return to the future, not with the remote but with the great strength he gained in the Room of Spirit and Time. And he gets to clean house his way - slaughtering the Twins efficiently and thoroughly, in true Trunks fashion.
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And also getting Cell for good measure.
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Godspeed, killer. You were the best your world had left to offer but you rose to the occasion, and that's the most that could be asked of anyone.
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awellreadmannequin · 3 days
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Hmm, I think that some of my new followers might appreciate this passage I just wrote for my paper:
Ultimately, caring about culture means caring about the bodies which practice that culture. Failing to care about those bodies, letting them become “bare life” means failing to care about culture. Or rather, I should say failing to care about bodies is a failure to care well about culture. Museums have historically served to preserve culture without necessarily maintaining it. A museum is a dead thing, a place where the artifacts of culture put on static display to be silently observed. The only bodies that move in museums do not interact with the artifacts contained within in the same way that the bodies who produced them would. As Shimrit Lee puts in her book Decolonize Museums:
By displaying humans, animals, and objects alike in detailed, simulated environments, curators sought to capture particular cultures and time periods. This act of “viewing culture”—from world’s fairs to the museums of today—results in what Johannes Fabian called a “petrified relation,” whereby various non-European societies are perceived to be living in a different historical epoch. Today, these types of exhibitions continue to deny the possibility of shared humanity and connection between visitors and the people whose cultures are on display. (Lee 2022)
It is bodies in living relation to one another that make and practice culture. In museums, culture becomes disembodied and thereby disconnected the human experience of it. Instead, cultural artifacts become props in a curatorial narrative: “These objects, violently plundered from the colonies, were first “decontextualized,” or extracted from the context of their original use, and then “recontextualized” in the sense that they were inserted into new settings” (Lee 2022).
Like, imagine how insane I felt listening to Winter in Hieron while this is the sort of thing I’m studying, thinking about, and writing. Hieron is literally built on physical and metaphysical recontextualization! And beyond that, even the mortals who are unaware of the metaphysical nature of Hieron’s reality are constantly struggling over how culture should be contextualized. Mother Glory’s death hit me so hard precisely because it was a symbolic victory of Rosemerrow’s recontextualization of culture. In turn, Fero’s decision not to stay and help the gnolls is such a monumental failure to care about (I’m using that in a technical sense, dw about it, iykyk) their culture and their, er, humanity..? Gnollnity? Whatever, that which makes them subjects. And don’t even get me started on the orcs, who have so completely mastered recontextualizing culture that they it enables them to DO MAGIC. Like, pattern magic clearly depends on culture in order to give facets of the material world meaning (libraries, desks, broken mirrors, stolen fiddles, and so forth) but it doesn’t actually have any interest in that context beyond that. Lem is able to do pattern magic without really what the materials he’s using really are beyond their place in the pattern. You know, now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not even sure he knows what the deal with his fiddle even is? I might be wrong, but the point is that the fiddle seems to be more important for its place in the pattern than for the thing it actually is as defined by its history.
Ugh, this show is making me feel rabid and I gotta stop writing this post and get back to the actual paper I’m writing…
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leagueofdccm · 3 days
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//. Feeling sick with a migraine, and trying to cook for me and my kids when sick is a struggle. But I just wanted to throw this idea out ! Which I'm excited for--but also slowly gonna have to do the bio of this OC of mine for the walking dead universe I just shot out my ass not long ago xD AKA today.. and i wanted to see what people thought ?
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First off hello perfect FC a.k.fucking.a Cillian Murphy !! Still no name atm, but I got an idea of where he would be located. LAS VEGAS ANYONE ? I just thought well shit, we saw new york, we also saw where daryl went ? like..... so many places out there we know nothing of ( also i don't recall if in the show if something happened to vegas or not ) and if so, oh well. but i had this plan that man... i mean look what happened to rick right ? just how STRONG and honestly powerful those people were who took him , and shit a lot of the shit they accomplished. while that was basically ran by some military people and whatnot, i thought---well shit... VEGAS BEING RAN BY CRIMINALS ?? I wanted to make this oc into a villain and i mean bad of all bad. Cause lbr... look at this man ? He doesn't look sweet. he looks like he's willing to kill if he doesn't get his way and would have such control. All the term what happens in vegas stays in vegas--- also goes to the people as well. Of course i gotta break down his bio. I gotta build the character. bg, name. But I'm excited. Because you know I truly believe Vegas would be so fucked up... broken down think of gotham vibes, just with bright lights and sinners ruling the place. also imagine the walkers ? jfc stripper walkers LMAO but please you guys bear with me!! also in vegas they def don't call walkers--- that name. so they'll be called something else.
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chenfordspiral · 19 hours
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I move through the world with the heartbroken (my longings stay unspoken)
The first time Tim spoke to Lucy again after the parking lot was six days later. Somehow, they had managed to avoid each other until today, and he wasn’t sure if he should love or hate it. But he couldn’t dwell on that too much right now, not when he knew she’d just come back from an intense standoff with a suspect that left said suspect dead and her with a bullet in the vest. Again. 
And even though he wanted, hell, needed to keep his distance from her because he didn’t deserve to be in her presence anymore, he couldn’t stop himself from checking in with her anyway. Because he would always care and worry about her and love her with everything he had. It’s why he walked away in the first place.
You want the best for the people you love, and he wasn’t what was best for Lucy.
“Are you okay?”
She stuttered to a halt, turning her head slightly to glance up at him.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
He could see that she wasn’t, though. She was clearly still rattled about what had happened earlier that day. Or maybe it was him she was skittish and uncomfortable around now, not that he could blame her for that.
“Lucy-“
“I said I’m fine, Sergeant Bradford. Don’t pretend like you suddenly care about my wellbeing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what that means. You don’t get to worry about me anymore. You walked away from me, so you have to live with the consequences. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back out on patrol. Sir.”
Before he could even utter a single syllable in response, she had turned on her heels and was gone.
Well shit.
keep reading on AO3.
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