#it was way too late to realize that I might've gone way too far—

[zu-is-here]

Red

Fluffynightkiller Week by @help-im-a-gay-fish

An Unhealthy Obsession AU by help-im-a-gay-fish

Ccino by black-nyanko

Nightmare by jokublog

Killer by rahafwabas / rahaf-wabas / rahofy-sketch

#yandere #blood #zu art #fluffynightkiller #fluffynightkiller week #yandere!ccino #yandere!killer #nightmare!sans #passive!nightmare #ccino!sans #killer!sans #undertale #undertale au #utmv #it was way too late to realize that I might've gone way too far— #so feel free to say if more warning tags are needed! ówò #this ''yandere Nightmare?'' tag still haunts me— but the continuation is up to you ;)

[coffeewritesfiction]

Which Image - A Chzo Mythos fanfic

Title comes from the song Witch Image by the band Ghost. If there's interest I'll write more and explain to my followers what this game series is.

Apologies to the people who wanted to be tagged in this, Tumblr isn't recognizing your urls. I'll try to tag in a reblog. Also apologies to the British if my American ass screwed things up. I'll make edits as needed.

London, 2015

In between the crackling thunder, a young man screamed in agony, sweet as the music of a harpsichord.

Footsteps pounded like the rain through the stolen, repurposed corpse of a building. An office, once, now a shell like any other mortal body. Down the many stairs the footsteps carried, sneakers squeaking wet on dirty tile. Down the stairs and through the halls, she ran.

Why the persistence? Too late, far too late, to save her friend. But the young woman resisted the obvious. Dark of hair and pure of heart, he could not harm her yet. He watched the sweat drip down her warm brown skin, how she brushed the strands of hair from her face. Standing, kneeling, struggling, suffering.

He watched and he wondered. Yes, he did wonder.

It'd been a strange choice, to offer up an American for a sacrifice, but Chzo was not a picky god. This young woman could not have looked more different from her light-haired friend. But in her eyes, a desperate fire burned, and looking away proved a challenge.

That fire… She reminded him of someone. How distasteful.

Of course, of course, too late for her friend. She opened the door to strangers standing over the remains. Of course, of course, too late for her. The cult would spare her, when they caught her, he would ensure it…

They did not catch her.

They did not even notice her, too consumed with their own escape. The Ministry agents closed in, fortune smiling upon them once again. She fled, they fled, and it had all gone wrong.

He could've been furious.

He could've been.

Instead, he stood upon the old building, his shadow stretching long in the light flashing overhead. He stood, and he watched her race into the darkness, her parcel, their parcel, clutched to her frail body.

He watched, and yes, yes he wondered.

She reminded him of someone… Cabadath wasn't sure he liked that.

It'd been almost twelve hours before anyone realized the girl was gone. Far too late to save her life. The Order of Blessed Agonies worked fast. But so did Trilby.

The Order must've been desperate to prey on tourists. They had to have known who they were choosing. The accents on these kids weren't subtle. Five of them came overseas on spring holiday, bright eyed and oblivious. Three headed home tonight. The other two would follow in coffins.

“Trilby,” one of his supervisors said, “I know what you're thinking. Don't put yourself at risk to try and save this kid.”

“I'm already at risk,” he'd said. “What's a little more?”

“We need you alive - and so do they.”

And that was the thing, wasn't it? The Order wouldn't keep this girl, this Jillian Taylor Cortez, alive, but he couldn't say they'd do the same with him. Damned prophecies…

Her name was Jillian Taylor Cortez. She just turned 19. Mexican-American mother, British father. Got her middle name because the latter died before she was born, so said her friends.

She looked nothing like Simone Taylor. If she had, Trilby might've lost it again.

Twelve hours, they found the boy, or what was left of him. They'd followed the muddy footprints from the ground floor all the way to the altar. Trilby followed them back up, frowning. Pretended he didn't see the glances between the ones around him.

He had a hunch.

Just a hunch, but he'd been doing this for almost twenty years now. Just a hunch, he'd say later… but he'd been right before.

“Don't you dare!” Someone shouted at his back. “Damn it, Trilby! Get back here! It's not worth it!”

He ignored them, ignored the rain soaking his suit. Wasn't breaking the rules if nobody up top told you not to. Besides, he was just following a hunch. Just giving a quick check around the buildings. No harm in that.

No harm on her, when he caught her dead center in the light of his torch.

He stared at her and she stared right back, her eyes wide and hollow. The rain soaked her right through, plastering clothes to skin and hair to her cheeks. The bow in her hair, half undone. The fear in her eyes, too painful, too real.

Trilby raised a hand.

“Jill-”

She bolted.

“Wait! No!”

Trilby followed.

The kid knew how to run. Ran through the streets like the world was ending. Trilby kept up. He wasn't young anymore, he'd feel it for the next few days, but he kept up. So did the rain.

Only took a few wrong turns. She didn't know anything about the area - neither did he, to be fair. Was only a little bit of a surprise to find themselves in another alley, to come across the fence blocking their way. Was a very big surprise when the girl ran right for it.

“Jillian!” He shouted over the thunder. “Jill!”

Did she even hear him? She didn't stop. Lunged for the fence, one hand grasping the chain link metal. Trilby moved faster than her.

He grabbed her around the waist. She screamed. They both hit the ground, he let her go and she scrambled backwards. He shifted, sat up, looked her in the face again.

Terrified eyes, wide and wild. It wasn't just the rain soaking her cheeks, the spring weather shuddering her shoulders.

Trilby raised his hands.

“Jillian,” he said. “It's alright, Jill. I'm with the Ministry of Occultism. We're here to help you. I can't believe you're still alive…”

She breathed. She held the book in her arms tight. Book? He looked down at it. Heavy, large, leather bound. Some kind of writing on the cover.

Oh my God, he thought. Did she steal that from the Order?

Trilby looked up to her face again. Her eyes locked onto something over his shoulder.

Trilby jerked out of the way. The blade buried into the ground he'd stood moments before. Trilby moved, backed away as far as he could go, the blood draining from his face.

“Oh, hell,” Trilby said.

The featureless face of the Prince of Pain tilted towards him. Cabadath had not changed at all in the last twenty years. Bone chilling, even after all these years and all their meetings. Still ever the same, nine feet tall and dressed in black, the rain coursing down his long coat and leaving the fabric dry. The Prince straightened in slow motions, raising the four pronged scythe and resting it by his side.

Still the Prince stared at him, though he had no eyes to do so. He raised a hand and pointed to the girl.

Jill. She'd gotten out of the way just in time. Trilby couldn't risk looking away from the Prince for longer than an instant, Cabadath moved too fast, but she still breathed, standing against the fence. Her eyes, still wild, locked onto the terror between them.

Had Cabadath been chasing her too? The Prince had powers like no human ever could. Hallucinations were a favorite, Trilby knew that from experience.

The Prince waited.

Trilby took a breath.

“Jillian,” he said. “Give him the book.”

She did not move but her whole body shuddered with her breath.

“He's playing nice right now,” Trilby said, eyes locked on the Prince, “but he doesn't have to. You don't know what he's fully capable of, you've just seen part of it.”

Jillian did not move.

“There's nothing in that book that can help you,” Trilby said. “You don't want to get involved with this more than you have been. I don't know how you got it, but you need to give it back. Before he takes it from you.”

Her body shuddered. Jillian blinked, hard. The Prince did not move. He did not look away.

Her arms unlocked. She took another deep, shuddering breath. Holding the book in careful hands, she laid it upon the ground at her feet, and stepped away. And away. And away.

Trilby watched the Prince. He did not notice where the young woman moved to, until she stopped. Stopped between him and Cabadath, facing the Prince, her arms stretched out as if she could protect Trilby from the monster watching them.

Protect him from Cabadath. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry at the thought.

The Prince tilted his head. His gaze shifted towards the girl. Trilby placed a hand on Jillian’s shoulder. Cabadath’s shoulders shook, as if in silent laughter. But of course, no sound came from the Tall Man. They were not worth the effort.

Turning away from the mortals, Cabadath stepped toward the book. He knelt, and with one long free hand, picked it up. Turning fully back towards the two humans, he bowed a mocking thanks. Trilby set his teeth, held Jill's shoulder as she flinched.

As the Prince straightened, he vanished. The rain poured down over them and the tension disappeared from Trilby's body. Cabadath truly was gone. For now.

Jillian sobbed.

Trilby's focus snapped to her again. Shit.

“Jill?”

She placed her hand over her mouth as the sobs shook her body.

“Cal,” she whispered the name of her friend. “Cal, I'm sorry.”

He couldn't think of anything to say. Trilby wrapped an arm around her and pulled out his phone with the other. How long had it been ringing?

“Yeah?” He said. “Yeah, I'm alright. Yeah, we're both okay. I found the girl, she's alive. It's… it's a long story. I'll explain everything back at headquarters.”

Trilby held the young woman against his body as he led her back into the light. He glanced uneasy at the roofs above them, expecting a tall shadow staring down, but only the rain waited overhead, the drops falling down between her tears.

#chzo mythos #writeblr #writeblr community #cabadath #chzo Mythos Trilby

[jisunghannie]

Always the Artist, Never the Muse

PAIRING: Hyunjin x male!reader

WARNING: Lots of Angst, boyxboy (bxb), school!au, rejection, reader has a girlfriend, reader uses jagi/jagiya on their girlfriend, told more from Hyunjin's point of view, reader's point of view is majority of the time with their girlfriend

SUMMARY: Hyunjin has a crush on you but you never seem to look his way. He always paints you and sketches you. But he's scared to approach you because he believes that you'll make fun of him for liking you so he likes you from a distance. Even though he knows that you have a girlfriend.

WORD COUNT: 2,843

A/N:

.°•○>><<○•°. = POV switch

`○°.• ✿ •.°○` = Timeskip

I might write a female version! Let me know if you'd like that too! This is based off of a poem I read on tiktok. It just screamed Hyunjin when I read it so I wrote about it!

You always saw a boy in your class stare at you. Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin. He was the boy that won that art competition in your class last year. You won't lie, his art was amazing but what was weird was him constantly staring at you. That was weird. Something about him was just-

"Hey lover!" Your girlfriend called out as you turned and smiled. "Hey jagi." You said, kissing her on the cheek.

You turned and looked back to Hyunjin, the boy was gone. You wondered where the peculiar boy went. You sighed but enjoyed your time with your girlfriend.

.°•○>><<○•°.

Hyunjin was hiding behind the wall by the classroom door trying not to let his heart break and at the same time jump out of his chest.

He was hurt that you kissed your girlfriend but then again, it was your girlfriend. There's nothing he could do to stop it. He sighed, hoping that he could be in your girlfriend's shoes.

At the same time, he was smiling knowing that you looked at him and noticed him.

`○°.• ✿ •.°○`

A few weeks passed since the incident and Hyunjin still wasn't over it. He still couldn't believe it. As he was spacing out while walking he bumped into you.

"Ah, I'm so sorry." He said as he bowed an apology. "Don't worry about it." You said smiling as Hyunjin realized who it was. He realized a little too late after he lifted his head. He blushed in embarrassment and scratched his neck nervously.

"Hey, you're Hwang Hyunjin right? The guy that won the art contest right?" You asked as Hyunjin nodded bashfully. "Awh, that's amazing. Your art is amazing as well. Maybe you can paint me one day." You said, half joking and half serious. However, Hyunjin liked you so much that he already could draw you from just memory.

"My girlfriend is planning to run for the one art competition coming up for scholarship." Hyunjin was hurt to hear you mention your girlfriend, but his petty side spoke up and said, "What art contest? I think I might've signed up too." You chuckled, "I think it was called KNUA? Korea National University of Arts." He said as Hyunjin let out his fakest giggle.

"I'm going there too! What a coincidence." He lied as you stood there he was flattered, and you guys traded numbers.

Later that same day, he went to go sign his name, read the details, and go get his materials.

.°•○>><<○•°.

After the conversation with Hyunjin you went back to your girlfriend. You smiled at her as you saw her painting. You silently crept behind her as you hugged her from the back.

"Hey jagi, I got what you needed." You said as she smiled and hugged you. "Thank you so much!" She said, you chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Anything for you lover." You told her.

`○°.• ✿ •.°○`

There was approximately a week and a half left until the showcase. You were supporting your girlfriend as she was almost finished. You smiled as she looked happy with her piece.

"What do you think so far jagi?" She asked as you looked at the painting. It was with two people hugging, laying down. While in what seems to be an unfinished painted casket. "Why a casket?" You asked as she smiled. "I'm taking the marriage vow, 'till death do us part' literally." She said as you nodded your head. "You're so smart." You told her as you admired it. "I don't get art but that was really smart." She giggled at that.

"I need more paint, can you go get me some from the store?" She asked as you nodded, kissing her head and leaving to the art store.

You practically had the directions memorized by how much your girlfriend went there.

As you walked in, you saw Hyunjin in the store and walked over to him. "Hey Hyunnie," You said, "I didn't know you shopped here too." As you finished your sentence he jumped. "Oh, it's just you..." He said, taking a sigh. "Of course, who else would it be Hyunnie." You told him as he turned around and turned his slightly downwards. "Did you just call me 'Hyunnie'?" He asked as you nodded.

"Woah, you have so many feminine features." You told him, moving his hair out of his face to look at his face. "Your eyelashes are so long, your hair is silky smooth, not to mention your lips are amazing, they are plump and full." You admired as he pulled back. "Thank you..." He thanked softly as you smiled.

"Only a week and a half left. How's your painting?" You asked as he stood frozen in place. "I-It's done, just gotta add a few more details." He said, his voice stuttering in the beginning. "Are you okay Hyunnie what's up with the stutters. "It's nothing. I'm gonna go pay. I'll see you whenever y/nnie..." He said as he got in line.

.°•○>><<○•°.

After he paid for his stuff, he walked home blushing like crazy, thinking about the situation. You gave him a nickname. That alone made Hyunjin blush. What made him blush even more was that you had touched his hair and his face. That drove him wild.

He didn’t know what to do. He felt awkward and didn’t know how to reply. He hid his face all the way home. He saw your car as you rolled down your window.

"Hey, it's kind of hot, you want a ride home? I have the ac cranked up." You offered as he nodded and sat in the back seat. "Hey, I'm not your uber, I'm your friend, come sit next me in the passenger seat." He nodded and sat in the passenger seat.

While Hyunjin sat and buckled his seatbelt you put your phone on the phone stand on your car. "What's your address?" You asked, he told you his address as you smiled and put on his gps. "Feel free to play music." You said as Hyunjin nodded.

He put on his favorite song, i hate to admit by Bangchan.

You smiled as you sang along to the song. Hyunjin was surprised as you sang. "You know this song?" He asked as you nodded. "This song helped me through my hardest times. When my mother passed. I felt really alone because I never met my father and losing the only other parental figure in my life hurt." You told him. He felt bad and tried reaching for your hand but he restrained himself and took his hand back.

"I'm sorry to hear that y/nnie..." He said as you chuckled, "Don't be, I know my mother would've loved to be with me right now. She still is but spiritually." He said, grabbing the photo in his visor mirror. "She would've loved Jiah." He said as Hyunjin felt his heart break. "How did you meet Jiah?" He asked as you smiled. "She had sprained her ankle during a class field trip. I had merely helped her and took her to the closest medical tent. She was grateful and offered me coffee. What became a mutual hang out became another, and another, then a date, then another date, then another, and soon we ended up dating. I asked her out, and she agreed."

Hyunjin nodded at the story, not knowing that the truth would hurt this badly.

"She was the highlight of my life." You said as Hyunjin bit his lower lip trying to ignore the watery eyes. "So why do you listen to this song Hyunnie?" You asked as he looked at you. "Similar to you. It helps me out and calms me down. It makes me understand that," He stopped his words as he sighed, "It makes me understand that I'm never going to have the one I want. I will only be on the side but never in frame." He said looking forward.

You sighed. "I know how that feels but hey, you're a catch. Anyone would be lucky to have you Hyunjin."

As you said that, he caught himself smiling slightly. The way his name rolled off your tongue just made the butterflies in his stomach flutter.

You pulled up to a house. "This your house?" You asked as he looked outside. "Yeah, this is it." He said unbuckling his seatbelt and grabbing his things. "Thank you y/nnie..." He silently thanked as you smiled. "Anytime Hyunnie."

As you went inside, he saw you drive off as he walked slowly, then he fell to the floor. Sobbing. He knew that he would never have a chance with you, but hearing how much you love your girlfriend just made his heart hurt in a way unimaginable. As he cried, his painting sat on the easel. Waiting to be showcased and finished.

.°•○>><<○•°.

You arrived back at your place, where your girlfriend was peacefully painting. Finishing the last few touches.

"Looks great jagiya." You said as she turned. "Y/n!" She exclaimed, hugging you close and tight. "I missed you." She said calmly this time as you smiled. "I missed you too." You said as she looked up at you. "What took you so long?" She asked, pulling you to the couch to sit. "I saw Hyunjin and dropped him off at home." You told her as she beamed and smiled. "I always thought Hyunjin was amazing! I always admired his art. I think I would've left you for him if he gave me a chance." She teased as you made a noise of surprise. "I'm just kidding jagi! I'm kidding! You know I love you too much for that!" She said. You hugged her close just then, "Good!" You said jokingly as she giggled. "Let me gooo! I need to finish!" She sang out as you tickled her. "Not a chance." You said while she laughed.

After calming down, she finished her painting. "All done! Now I need to write a title and the explanation on paper to have it exhibited and sign my name on it once it's dry." She said as you looked confused. "Why do you have to do all that?" You asked as she giggled. "So it's, professional jagi." She told you as she went to the kitchen. "What do you want to eat? Dinner is on me tonight." She said as you covered your mouth. "No offense jagi... but you're better off painting..." You teased. "Why you little... fine! Then you can starve!" She said. "I'm kidding! Jagi! Jiah!" You said chasing after her.

`○°.• ✿ •.°○`

It was the night before the exhibition. Your girlfriend loaded everything in your car as she smiled. "You ready for tomorrow?" You asked as she nodded. "So ready!" She replied as you took her inside to sleep.

.°•○>><<○•°.

Hyunjin had just finished writing the explanation. He smiled sadly at his piece. If any other person saw him, they'd think Hyunjin was unhappy or sad about his piece. Truth be told, it was because of the piece that he was sad. Hyunjin loaded everything in his car and slept, ready for the exhibition tomorrow.

Hyunjin got up, washed his face, brushed his teeth, did his skincare, ate, applied a lip balm, packed his bag and left. Ready for the exhibition.

When he got there he saw other students from his school with fabulous pieces. They didn't cover theirs like Hyunjin did but he knew that his painting was special to him.

He had seen you and Jiah together. You kissed Jiah and wished her good luck. That. Had hurt. He saw Jiah's painting. It was beautiful but again, nothing could compare to how special his painting was.

After all the contestants, Jiah was second to last and Hyunjin was last.

"Now welcome up on the stage, Miss Kim Jiah!" They called out as she walked up, placing her painting on the easel. "Hello everyone! I'm Kim Jiah. My painting is titled 'Till Death Do Us Part'. The reason I chose this is because, ironically, enough. My boyfriend and I plan to get married after high school. I know it's super sickening, but listen to me. The reason why I chose this is because I don't know what I would do without him. I really do value my loved ones. My role model in my life was always my father because he swore to my mother this vow when they got married. My mother cheated on him, and yet he forgave her and ended up being with her even when she was pregnant with another child that wasn't his. He loved her. He really did. Then the accident came. My mother was barely clinging to life, and my father told the doctors to take anything they needed from him to save her. Unfortunately, my half-sister passed, and that same day, I lost both my parents. I remember my mother telling my father she was pregnant with another child who wasn't his, and all he did was hold her hand and told her, 'I'll never stop loving you. I forgive you. Remember our vows. Till death do us part.' Thank you for listening.' She said as the audience erupted in applause.

The announcer then stepped onto the stage, "Thank you so much for that Miss Kim with your painting and your story of the origin of that painting. Now, welcome onto the stage, our previous winner of last year, Hwang Hyunjin!" As Hyunjin stepped onto the stage, the audience clapped and cheered. Hyunjin placed his covered painting on the easel. "Hello, as some of you may know. My name is Hwang Hyunjin." He said looking for you in the audience. Once he locked eyes with you, he knew that this was going to be a scary yet relieving explanation. "My painting is called, 'Always the Artist, Never the Muse.'" He said as he unveiled the painting, it was the most beautiful painting of a man. A man similar looking to you. "The reason why I painted this man is because this is the man that I love." He admitted as the audience murmured. "I know what you guys are thinking, but just listen. I've loved this man for so long. Since my grade school years. I watched him grow and become amazing. However, I know that he would never see me like that. I say that because he has someone who he holds dear to him already. I'm honestly jealous. I wish I could be that close to his heart as she is. Whenever I see them, my heart breaks knowing that I could've been the one in his arms. I know that sounds selfish. But I couldn't ask for someone more or even close to perfect as him. He is just the most amazing person you'll know. He and I just got closer recently and all I feel is my heart jumping out at my chest whenever I talk to him. But whenever he looks at me with those eyes, it's because he's not looking at me, he's looking behind me. Those eyes are just for me to see that it's a sight that will never belong to me. so I decided to capture that loving look he gives to his girlfriend, because I am always the artist, never the muse. Thank you for taking the time to listen to me." He said as he looked at you. Who just stood there shocked. As the audience roared in applause and cheers as some cried. Hyunjin bowed, took his painting, and went off the stage taking a sigh of relief as the other contestants congratulated him for coming out to the world.

After all the art pieces were exhibited. Hyunjin sat by his piece, as he felt another person sit next to him. He looked, and it was you.

"Hey." You said. "Hey." Hyunjin replied as you started, "Look-" Hyunjin cut you off, "I know don't worry y/n. I know you don't love me or see me that way." He said as you sighed. "It's not just that. But, Jiah isn't comfortable with me being friends with you when we are both aware that you have feelings for me. I'm sorry Hyunjin." You said dryly as you stood up. "I'm glad I could be here to support you at least." You said, walking away.

Before Hyunjin could cry they called all the contestants on stage.

"Votes are in and now the student winning the scholarship is..." Everything went in one ear out the other, Hyunjin could've cared less, because he lost someone important to him that's what Hyunjin considered a tragedy to all. "Hwang Hyunjin! Our infamous winner from the year before as well!" The announcer said, as Hyunjin was given an envelope of acceptance to KNUA. Hyunjin didn't care. He had lost the person most important to him. It was more important than this stupid acceptance paper. To him, you were the world.

He fell to the floor in tears because he knew that him being with you would never happen. Only in his dreams, because he is always the artist, never the muse.

#skz #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz imagines #stray kids #skz angst #hyunjin skz #skz hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin hwang #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin angst #skz hwang hyunjin #hwang hyujin imagines #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin angst

[janaknandini-singh999]

Chapter 5

"Isn't that the same girl you knocked out in that reception?" Shlokaa's father slyly looked up from his newspaper and chuckled

It's usually brown aunties and moms who are into gossip but in their house it was Shlokaa's father. Shlokaa's mom would be too busy and uninterested to bother but her husband would take out all the drama and masala to relish.

On her father's comment, Shlokaa just wanted to pull his cheeks so hard until he got the sign to be quiet. Just like aunties do when some kids pass cheeky replies to what they say. Yeah, weird brown folk tendencies and urges.

Jaya uneasily shifted on the sofa, sensing the tension to turn into a storm anytime now

"Shlokaa! Did you really do that? Please don't, I don't want any kind of trouble here!" her mother fumed "Come on, you people are in 11th grade and half the year is already gone! Even if you don't like Vilasini, it won't hurt to tolerate her for just over a year now. Besides, you have to prepare for the head girl post, too."

Shlokaa argued "Mom! My tournament is during that time, you know I can't miss it. I've been practicing for it since so long now!"

Shloka's mother glared at her and that was her cue to listen now. Her rage came from her mother, she knew it. She admired her for being so independent but hated her for ironically not letting her own daughter be so when it came down to taking decisions, even though she knew that her mother only wanted the best and she was trying as hard as anyone could. A fierce mother raising a fierce daughter. Volcanoes did erupt.

"Ok," her mother quietly said "you can do the tournament."

Shlokaa finally felt her breath come through and nodded, silently thanking her mother

"But only on one condition. You will start attending anger management classes from Monday."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Vilasini Ramakrishnan."

"Present."

Vilasini was sitting on the front seat, she had occupied it as soon as she had reached the class, which was earlier than anyone. She wanted to roam around her new school until the classes began on her first day. She liked doing this anyway, getting some alone time before she would charge headlong into her hurdles and life.

The class teacher (Vilasini thought she looked familiar) wished her, briefly nodding and that was it. No grand introduction to the class - this was no primary or middle school, after all. Vilasini felt relieved again. But it was short lived. Soon, Aditi and Shlokaa came running to the class.

"You girls are late to the class. Don't repeat this again or you will be standing out of class. Sit down fast now."

"Sorry, mom- I mean, ma'am." Shlokaa didn't even meet the class teacher's eyes as Aditi rushed to sit beside Vilasini

And that's when Vilasini saw it - their class teacher was Shlokaa's mother. Anyone could've guessed it. The same fixed, undying expression and way of carrying themselves, like a careful flame ready to dance and engulf.

Aditi mouthed a quick "I'm sorry, I have to be with Villu and help her with work or you'll have to" to Shlokaa, who she nodded and gave a terse thumbs up before settling herself on her seat far behind them.

Vilasini was quick to realize Aditi and Shlokaa's plan and arrangement. If they had come to the class early then the class teacher would've made Shlokaa sit with Vilasini to help her personally for catching up with work as she was a new student in her class.

Fair.

She didn't want to interact with Shlokaa either.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The interval bell rang and people, mostly boys, ran outside.

Vilasini sighed and opened her tiffin, continuing her discussion with Aditi who listened intently.

"So, Krishn ji is basically the Supreme Godhead and-"

"Actually, Ram ji is more of the perfect God."

Vilasini looked up to catch the one who had interrupted her. Shlokaa. Upon their eyes meeting, Shlokaa stirred ever so slightly, Vilasini thought she might've imagined it. But she held the gaze firm and so did she. She had never noticed it before but from this up close, how angular Shlokaa's face was.

"So calm, so gentle. Never a trickster or a thief." Shlokaa eyed her and continued

Aditi opened her mouth in horror - such talk of Shri Krishna in front of Vilasini!? Her cousin might just- but Vilasini quietly patted her hand to assure her.

"Meanwhile Krishn ji? He didn't even fight, he let the Pandavas and Kauravas do their thing and suffer in anguish." Shlokaa's eyes burnt silently

"It was their fight. Ram ji also only fought when it was his. But you know, what? Sita ji should've killed Raavan instead. Why let someone else fight for you, even if it is your husband? Didn't Durga defeat demons on her own? Didn't Shivshakti also fight side by side when the time demanded? If Ram Sita were equals then why should the man here just do? And then in the end even after rescuing her, he left her-"

"Guys, guys!?" Aditi came in between "We are literally talking about the same God, how does it matter? It was an epic of those times but in some version, Sita ji killed Sahasra Raavan too. It's all stories that we need to learn from and not fight over, right? They legit taught us how nobody wins in a war and here are you both ironically fighting. Y'all are missing completely the poin-"

But they weren't listening. They hadn't brought up this topic to rationally debate about it in the first place itself. In fact, they didn't even want to talk by throwing their faith and opinions on the other. They were talking to each other, this was just an excuse to do so.

"Big Krishn bhakt, huh? Well, your maakhan chor is big on giving people a second chance. Maybe you should, too." Shlokaa whispered

"And your Maryaada Purshottam never attacks people who haven't done any harm. Maybe you should learn a thing or two from him, too."

Clap, clap.

Somebody laughed behind them, clearly amused.

Manika emerged next to them, giggling "Wow, ladies. Nice talk! But I didn't know abnormal people could talk about Gods? Isn't it blasphemous or something? What ya say, lesbo?"

At that, whatever girls had been talking and eating their tiffins in the class looked up and turned towards them. "What?" one of them asked, incredulously

"Ahaha, that's right! Our new friend here is one of a kind! Won't you thank me for introducing you so amazingly to everyone, Villluuuuu?"

"Says the one who is a cheater." Vilasini spoke

The girls gasped louder and came closer to them.

"What the.. what the heck are you talking about?! Girls, don't listen to her! Just because her image is tarnished, she's dragging me into this. Ha, classic but unoriginal petty drama!"

"Oh, really, girliee?" Vilasini imitated Manika's accent "You don't remember Raman? The poor sweet guy you dated in your previous school while hooking up with countless other dudes?"

Manika became quiet. She wasn't expecting this. She could defend aggressively but they'd all see through it now.

"You.. you think you can get away with slut shaming me?"

"Oh no, darling. I really don't care about any of it, I'm a very liberal and sick bitch myself as you have already introduced me so thank you for that!" Vilasini winked and walked away as the crowd laughed and cornered Manika.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At dispersal after everyone had left the school, Manika escaped to that banyan tree where she often went and broke down.

She missed her little sister so much. The flashes. The-

Suddenly, she saw this small girl stuck above on the tree. No, not stuck. One hand clutched desperately on the branch, her body dangling, she was about to fall any moment. She let out a cry as Manika rushed reflexively and catched her. The girl started sobbing in her arms, still terrified from the shock.

"Shh, you're safe now, little one." Manika soothed her and caught herself crying too

"Sneha, where are you? SNEHA-" a deep voice called out and a boy in khaki pants and a messy man bun ran towards them. He was an inch shorter than Manika but appeared the same age.

Sneha jumped from Manika's arms to the boy's, saying "Bhaiya!! This didi saved me," she pointed up to the tree "I almost fell."

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I would've never forgiven myself if anything had happened to her." the boy said

"No, it's alright. She reminded me of my own sister."

"Ohh, didi?! Aapki bhi behen hain?? Meri age ki hain kya??? Can I come and play with her?" the little girl smiled her tears away

"Umm no.. she died in an accident last year."

The boy looked up, unsure of what to say. He couldn't imagine a day without his sister. This girl was so brave.

"I'm so-"

"Yeah, right. Thanks." Manika looked away, lifted her bag and turned to leave, clearly not in the mood to talk about it

"Ved."

"What?" Manika turned again

"The name of the person whose sister you saved the life of and because of which you saved him too." the boy made somewhat of an attempt to smile but it came out just as a stern but kind look. He held out his hand.

This boy clearly had no idea how saving worked, Manika thought. If it did work then Manika would have not thought of saving anyone else but her sister. But she couldn't. She refused to shake his hand and turned away again. One simple name enough to indicate a simple no.

"Manika."

Far in some distance, Shlokaa walked across with her mother with files in her hand. She saw the little girl in the boy's arms and Manika with them. She just rolled her eyes and moved on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Shlokaa Sharma. Everybody welcome our new friend!" the bald man held out his arms

Nobody in the lot put as much effort to say hello, few smiled, few just stared.

Great, they all looked more or less as screwed up as her.

Her mother's idea of these anger management classes had instantly repulsed her, but she'd do anything for the tournament.

"Sir, why are you beating around the bush and being so formal? The earlier she gets used to this the better. So, Shlokaa? Mommy issues or daddy issues? Or whole family issues?" someone leaned and asked dramatically

A roar of laughter burst. Shlokaa darted the eyes to the one who had asked such a question. It was the same boy who was with Manika. But how dare he make fun of her family? What ensued and what didn't was her personal thing. Nobody needed to invade and remark like it's the most casual thing in the world. She would've banged the chair on this boy's head but she just clenched her wrists instead and breathed.

"Now there, Ved. No need to be rude. And everyone, HUSH! But he does have a point, Miss Sharma. I don't mean to intervene, and healing is an individual process. We are just here to help each other. But the trigger is a valuable point to identify and-"

But Shlokaa wasn't listening. She had seen someone else in the room sitting in a round table fashion with everyone here. Another boy. A slender, well built one. His face somehow seemed awfully familiar but Shlokaa couldn't place it. She was carried away into thoughts for trying to recognize him but couldn't. Soon the class got over and everyone started leaving.

Shlokaa quietly went behind the boy. He went near his bicycle and jumped on it. Shlokaa quickly started her scooter and followed him.

#desi aesthetic #desiblr #desi tag #desi #desi culture #desi dark academia #desi stuff #desi academia #desi girl #just desi things #desi wlw #saptiya series

[pb-dot]

Film Friday: A formal apology to Last Night In Soho

People who have followed me for a while, or done some serious backreading may remember an early essay I wrote about the Edgar Wright film Last Night In Soho and how I couldn't make myself to watch the thing again. I've been trying to dig the thing up again so I could do a good follow-up, but Tumblr's search function continues to be Like That, so I'll just have to go by my memory of the thing for now. Last Night In Soho spoilers and some dreaded nuance below the cut!

In short, I struggled with how mean-spirited the film felt to me. Protagonist Eloise Turner gets chewed up and spitten out by a London that is sleazy, cruel and unforgiven even in the genre of "country mouse goes to the Big City and has a Terrible Time of Things" stories. It's a morally messy and gray kind of tale, where our hero narrowly evades a victim turned villain by the cruelty of the world around her by confronting her with the cruelties she herself indulged in. It's a real Bad Vs. Evil kind of situation, and just thinking of how much of an exhausting, terrifying experience the story would turn to for young Eloise made her early scrappy, if naive, enthusiasm turn to ash in my mouth.

The thing is, upon actually watching the thing again, and through explaining what's going on to my parents that, bless 'em, weren't quite following along on the plot, I came to realize something. All of the things mentioned above are true, that is what happens in the movie, and that's ok.

Eloise gets the utter shit kicked out of her by the plot. She falls down the tree of Moving to the Big City and hits just about every branch on the way down. Her natural empathy gets hijacked by a tale more sordid and violent than she's ready for, and there's no pot of golden rectification at the end of that rainbow, just a sad, twisted murderous grandmother dying in a house fire surrounded by the ghosts of her murdered abusers. It didn't have to end this way, Sandie didn't have to try killing Eloise to cover everything up. If she wasn't so warped from the abuse she suffered she might've even understood that Eloise has a lot in common with her, even when you ignore that she has, through her paranormal powers, Eloise has literally BEEN her. Eloise has literally felt her pain, her fear, her desperation. There is nobody in the world, maybe not even Sandie herself that has as good of a reason to be charitable and kind fo Sadie. It's no good, though, Sandie is too far gone to even consider empathy a possibility.

This is, of course, bleak as shit, and how bleak it is kind of blinded me to the point the movie was making. Upon a rewatch it seems almost absurd to me that I missed it in the first place, but the movie actually has a pretty clever thesis on Nostalgia built into it. Eloise goes to london, expecting it to be as magical of a place as she imagine it being in the late 60's. It is not, of course, even if the 60's was a stylish wonderland like she imagines it, the wear and tear of time and several generation-defining economic crisises (and entirely too many Tory governments if you permit me to talk politics for a hot second) have changed the place up. That is, however, just the starting conditions, the base camp from which Eloise's nostalgic dreams get confronted with the nastiness of reality.

Sadie is in many ways the perfect person for Eloise to project onto. She strides into the world of late 60's Soho with the effortless confidence of youth. She's not from around here, but she is going to make her dreams come true withher gumption and her beautfy and her unflinching confidence. Sounds a lot like Eloise, except Sadie is more of a girlboss than Ellie ever gets to. Of course, Sadie also falls out of the tree of moving to the Big City and hits a whole ton of branches on the way down, but that's not all there is to it. See, if the takeaway of the whole thing was "the protagonist thinks Before was better, but she learns that Before Was Pretty Terrible Actually," Last Night would truly be too cynical, full of pain and suffering, signifying nothing.

That's not what's happening though, if it did, Eloise would take half a look at what Sadie's life turned into and gotten the fuck out of dodge. It'd be a tale of the depravity of the city that a good soul narrowly escaped. That's not the movie Last Night In Soho is, and it's not even close. If anything, Eloise's obsession with South London and the sad life and assumed death of Sadie only deepens as she learns of just how bad things get for the doomed starlet.

It's one of those plot things that effectively illustrates that the difference between a character strength and a character weakness is highly dependent on context. Eloise is an emphatetic person, mirroring her openness to ghostly visions by her openness to other living people. It does her no favors in most interractions with her new classmates, but Eloise can no more stop feeling sympathy and openness to experience and feelings any more than a tiger can change its spots.

So, Eloise is an admirable character because she can not stop being kind, even when it's a disadvantage. She could no more fire back at her queen bee bitchy roomate than she could walk on water, and so she choses to resolve the solution by moving out entirely. It's that kind of "too nice by half" personality that's mostly present in fictional characters to give them a place to grow out of, to learn to stand up to themselves and so on. That's not the angle Last Night goes for though, I'd argue what it does is a much more nuanced take on such a character.

I would argue, though, that throughout Last Night In Soho, Eloise's empathy is in fact her most grievous character flaw. She almost ruins her life and her future by actively seeking out Sadie's tragedy, soaking in it like she can redeem the time period she is so enamored by absorbing Sadie's misery and quote-unquote saving her from her ignoble end. The world does not require this of Sadie, she puts this unreasonably huge demand on herself because it's the only way her unquestioning love for the time and place of Sadie's life can remain unexamined. Sadie's tragedy can only be an emergent flaw in the system of that time and place. If late 60's Soho chewed up and spat out young ambitious women like her and Sadie as a matter of course, how could it be the magical place of the movies and music that Eloise loves so much?

It's with this in mind that the ending scene where Eloise displays her new clothes designs goes from being a "oh, nice for her I guess" kind of denoument into a pretty powerful thesis statement. Eloise stil loves the things she loved about the 60's, she still loves the music, the aesthetics of it, the style of the clothing, but it is tempered by a distinctive and conscious sense of anachronism. This isn't the 60's coming back, this is Eloise, a modern young woman, showing the world what she loved about those bygone times filtered through her own experiences. This is, the movie says, what Nostalgia should be, an ongoing conversation with and about the aesthetics of the past without attempting to restore some sort of prelapsarian way of things that never existed in the first place.

In a world where an increasing amount of people start looking at the 50's with a worrying level of fondness, I think a movie like Last Night In Soho is important. It's ok to like rockabilly, it's ok to like stepford housewife chic, it's ok to like three-piece work suits, the movie all but says, but don't try to make today like the times when these styles arose. They weren't the Good Old Days the way it's tempting to think of them. They were Days, and depending on who you were they could be the farthest thing from good. Love the things and looks you love, but let the thoughts patterns and politics that informed them remain in the past where they belong.

So in short, I fear that in my initial piece on this movie, I did the Classical Tumblr Mistake of reading ill, conservative, will into a nuanced work that deals with complex topics in a surprisingly elegant way. So, that's my bad, and I'm glad that actually getting off my ass and giving it a second look has opened up my eyes to a lot of beautifully shot, artfully presented nuance. Last Night In Soho is a great move y'all. Go see it. Hell, if you've only seen it once, maybe see it again?

#last night in soho #film friday #also I haven't even gotten into how much of a trippy giallo-esque delight this movie is visually #or the clear and apparent love that's been put into the soundtrack #and the camerawork? Oh lord #I have to write a third damn thing about this movie now don't I? #stay tuned for that I suppose #Also I'm starting to wonder if the fact that I first saw this movie on a date that went to a kinda weird place may have biased me against i #Keep an eye out for my confused thoughts about The Boy And The Heron in that case #I'd say iykyk #but you don't so I won't #Finally (do anyone ever read all of these?) I'd apologize for the pun with the first gif #but I'm not sorry #not even a little bit

[tapioca-puddingg]

The Riku vs Terra Discussion

Hey y'all. So as you can see, I didn't choose violence today.

I've already spoken about this in my Terra video, but I'll reiterate my talking points here bc it's quicker to consume than a video.

So because Riku and Terra have similar story arcs related to darkness, a lot of us are naturally inclined to compare their stories and their behavior. However, I feel like some folks compare them with the added context of Riku’s redemption arc as ammunition against Terra. It’s comparing the life of someone who’s struggling to someone who has already succeeded, so that wouldn't be fair. So if we’re gonna play the comparison game, it’s only fair to start by isolating Riku’s behavior in KH1 and Terra’s in BBS since that's where these two made their starts.

This isn't me trying to say that one is better than the other. They both come from different lives, have different insecurities, and have different personalities. They are both flawed in their own ways. This is just a compare and contrast type of thing.

Riku was far more problematic at the start of his journey.

He actively antagonized Sora and co., worked with Maleficent (albeit it was to try to find a way to save Kairi, but still), was manipulated by Maleficent, was later possessed by Ansem, and attacked Sora while he was possessed.

Not to mention that he was selfish. He was totally fine with never returning home or seeing their parents again. Zexion calls him out on this in Re:CoM; that he was the reason why Destiny Islands fell to darkness.

I guess to give him the benefit of the doubt, the situation was more dire, as one of his best friend's heart was missing, and he was willing to do anything to help her.

Terra showed a lot more self-awareness and restraint. He was trying to do what Master Eraqus told him to do while simultaneously trying to figure out how to control his darkness. However, the desperation combined with his own insecurities made him vulnerable to being tricked by villains, like Hades.

Sadly tho, I don't think that he exercises discernment with some of the villains; Cap'n Hook in particular. And with Xehanort, he doesn't realize that he's been fooled until it's too late (which isn't his fault, Xehanort was playing 5D chess).

Beyond KH1, Riku had a lot of time to self-reflect and come to terms with his darkness, and he also had a good support system in Mickey. Mickey was someone that was genuinely curious, compassionate, and open-minded with him. He was willing to stand by him and support him no matter what. That’s somebody that Terra needed.

This might be a hot take, but Terra didn't have the best support system to be able to deal with his darkness issue. Eraqus was Eraqus-ing and Aqua assumed the worst about him after seeing the aftermath of his actions. Ven still supported him, but I think the distrust from Eraqus and Aqua had way more of an impact on him.

Honing in on Aqua for a moment, she always arrived in the worlds after Terra. From her perspective, it looked like Terra was doing a lot of fuckshit. He did leave the worlds pretty unresolved, so I understand why she was suspicious of him, especially with Terra’s lack of communication. BUT at the same time, she also didn't ask him what really happened. But anyways.

Terra and Riku were both manipulated and possessed at one point. They also both protected their friends from their possessed bodies; Riku protected Sora from himself in Hollow Bastion and Terra tried to protect Aqua from Terranort in the realm of darkness.

Riku is able to succeed where Terra couldn't. Riku was lucky to have Sora when he was possessed, otherwise he might've ended up being possessed for who knows how long. Like I said, he has a year and some change to grow as a person, whereas Terra has that opportunity taken from him.

Currently, Riku already has gone off to rescue Sora. Terra's story arc from this point forward has been undetermined and I have no idea what they plan to do with his character. In terms of the Wayfinder trio, Aqua will be training Kairi (and maybe they'll explore new worlds together?), and Ven might embark on a new journey based on his forgotten memories of the Age of Fairytales. Maybe Terra will help Aqua in training Kairi. Maybe he'll go on his own healing journey. Or maybe he'll eventually retake the Mark of Mastery exam and become a master.

I don't have a conclusion to this, I just like talking about things. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts 3 #kh3 #kingdom hearts birth by sleep #birth by sleep #bbs #kh bbs #kh terra #kh riku #riku #square enix #i just like terra okay #mister man #nomura pls let me write for the characters #let me cook #kh needs and ian flynn #ian flynn writes the sonic idw comics and recently wrote for sonic frontiers #i didn't play it but i watched ppl play it #by god the writing and characterizations in that game are the best it's been in years #they need someone to write kh characters like how ian writes the sonic cast #maybe shiro amano? #that or whoever writes the light novels #let them cook #also love the little interaction they get in re:mind #terra's proud dad energy #also the part when he teases ven was so cute

[a-tale-never-told]

Yeah, take it from me: people really aren't fond of when you don't allow them to ask things of the characters. Even if there's an in-story reason, it does feel like an artificial limitation and it can start to feel like railroading if you're not careful ^^;

When you've got a story that relies on audience interaction, you really gotta figure out a balance between when you're writing and how the asks can change things. It's best to ignore people who are deliberately trying to veer things off course completely, but letting the story remain flexible leaves you with a lot more opportunities

-Mod Bubbles

//Trust me, looking back now, it was an honest mistake. I honestly don't know what I was doing when writing that as that complicated things even more and just interrupted the flow of the story for a bit, as well as fact that I kinda of disappointed a few of my followers by doing that, hence why asking have been so quiet today as of late, despite me posting a story chapter that I believe is the best one of this arc so far, in terms of writing and characterization.//

//An audience is obviously very important for a story or anything else as it's up to the readers or general public to provide their thoughts and opinions on how the story is if the narrative is written well and if the characterization is good and the plot is original, and I've mostly done a decent job with the story so far, and that ask block was one of the major flaws in this arc, aside from a few other things.//

// I just didn't want things to go too out of hand, and I didn't want some of the ask to derail from the main plot of the story, but I think I'm a bit ashamed of letting those asks dictate where the flow of the narrative went, as it would just complicate things beyond my control, and it's nice to see that by making that mistake, it awoken me to my senses and realized that I've got to enforce my balance on how these asks will change things and complicate the flow of the plot.//

// Luckily, I managed to recover a bit from the initial mistake of doing an ask block and having a bit of a sense of how I want this to go and what the best option is for the story. Still, I can't deny that the interactions with the audience are one of the biggest parts of why this blog is successful, and I'm at least proud that I have such incredibly patient fans who are willing to give me advice when I'm my low point and haven't said anything malicious towards the story, the only criticism I got so far are mostly constructive and they've been helpful in correcting my mistakes as an inexperienced writer. So shout out to all of you guys! You are amazing and I can't express how glad I am for your constant support through this blog!//

//It's going to take me years before I honestly get to your level of quality, but if I keep learning from mistakes like this and try to balance out the kinks of how to write a story blog, I might eventually get to your level one day :) However, that is still far into the future for now.//

//By the way, I might've gone a bit overboard with how I criticized the Yumeko issue, though I will say that my criticisms are valid, I've should've paraphrased it more professionally rather than just shouting the obvious reaction one could possibly come up with.//

#mod talks #a tale never told #mod bubbles #ask #story blog

[whumpflash]

(This is one of the first Actual Whump scenes I wrote. Literally just this. I added context and plot way after. It's not the whumpiest thing in the world, but it's a required pre-chorus to this scene)

cw: violence, some lady whump but it's not the focus

I wish he'd shut up for once.

But Nick has never known when to quit. Not when he's caught in a lie, not when he's in too deep with a damn crime lord, and certainly not when he's managed to piss off a man who's got at least fifty pounds on him.

He and Aaron were supposed to be partners. Neither of them liked it, but their boss--our boss--had the final say, and no one had the balls to question Armitage.

But even when they hated each other's guts, partners weren't supposed to throw each other under the bus, whether it was for the greater good or not.

Even though I've known Aaron was an asshole from the start, and even though I can't fault Nick for what he did, I at least understand Aaron's anger. Nick betrayed him, plain and simple. An apology isn't going to cut it, and we all know it.

Nick doesn't try to fight. He probably knows that would make things worse, but somehow he doesn't seem to realize that spitting out insults has the same effect. I'm slow to react, at first not comprehending the full weight of the situation, or I might've been able to stop him. To at least put a band aid on the whole thing long enough for both of us to run far far away from the empty parking lot and the pissed off dude standing in it.

But unfortunately, I'm not that lucky.

So I can only shout for Aaron to stop as he seized Nick by the shoulders and throws him backwards.

Nick collides with the concrete base of a lamppost, sinking to the ground. A splotch of blood grows at the corner of his mouth, turned black by the streetlight. Aaron stalks towards him and I run to intercept. I can see his eyes. He's mad, but not so far gone that he can't be talked out of it. Yet.

So I take a deep breath and step in front of him, blocking the path to Nick. “That's enough. He's learned his lesson."

“You know that's a fucking lie,” he snaps. He tries to sidestep me, but I mirror him.

“Aaron. Please. Just leave him alone.”

“Move."

I stand my ground. “It's late. We should all be getting home.”

“Clara.”

It's Nick now. I turn around. He's still sitting in the same spot, sprawled on the ground with the lamppost to his back. He's not smiling when he talks to me.

“Just go home. We're just... Talking it out.”

I shake my head. “Talking it out?”

“For once he's right,” Aaron says. “This has nothing to do with you. Now get out of my way.”

“No.”

Once again, he sidesteps and I block him.

“Clara, move.”

“This has to stop. What happens if Armitage hears you've been fighting? He won't like that.”

I can see a flash of hesitation cross his face when I mention our boss, but it vanishes as quickly as it came.

"Armitage isn't here." He takes a step forwards, I stay still, trying to appear calm though my heart is pounding.

"I get it," I say, looking up at him, unmoving. "It was a dick move on his part, but it won't happen again, okay?"

"No," Aaron replies. "You don't get it."

I glance at Nick. Aaron takes another step forward, and without thinking, I try to push him away. When I look back at him, I can see the change in his eyes. Like a fire inside him is about to bloom. I only have a second to feel afraid before he shoves me, and suddenly I'm hurtling backwards, skidding to a stop in the middle of a puddle. My elbows burn and I feel the water seeping through my shirt as Aaron turns away from his original target and moves on me. I hastily get to my feet, holding my hands out in surrender.

“Aaron, don't--”

He backhands me across the face, and suddenly I'm back on the ground, a flash of red behind my eyes. I try to blink away the pain and sit up, but I can't tell if I'm looking at the sky or the pavement right now. I feel him standing over me, and tense for the next blow.

“Hey!”

I push myself up somewhat, and see a blurry Nick on his feet, facing Aaron.

“I knew you were scared of me, Aaron, but I didn't think you were such a wuss that you'd rather fight her.”

There's a terrible moment of nothing, and then everything seems to happen at once.

Aaron runs at Nick. I somehow get to my feet and run to stop him but get thrown to the side like a rag doll. I hit the ground hard, cracking my head on the street. Before everything goes black, I see Nick land a blow on Aaron's nose.

Then for a moment, nothing. Then I see Nick dodge a kick, take a hit, stumble back. The rage radiates off of Aaron.

And so it goes, fading in and out as I gasp like a fish on the ground and try to find the willpower to get back up.

He's going to kill him.

Nick goes down. I can't even shout his name. My sight is failing around the corners, as if my vision is a peephole that keeps getting smaller and smaller.

Aaron kicks Nick in the side. And does it again. And again. At some point, Nick stops trying to get up. And I think I'm crying but I can't be sure because my head hurts too much to think about anything else, really, and suddenly everything is just dark.

Then, inexplicably, there's a flash of blue. In my head, behind my eyes, all around me.

You know what to do, a voice whispers.

I really don't, I whisper back.

You know.

And I reach for the light. Not with my hands, but with my mind. And slowly, slowly, I feel the blackness slip away, and the pain along with it. My head clears, my eyes open, my elbows even stop stinging.

I don't take the time to question it. I run silently up to Aaron and throw myself onto his back, wrapping both arms around his neck and squeezing with all my strength. He lets out a choked sound and reels backwards. I don't let go. Normally this wouldn't work. Normally, I might not stand a chance. But miraculously healing yourself after a K'O has its advantages, apparently.

Aaron tries to punch me, tries to pull me off, but I bury my face into his back and hold on all the tighter. He stumbles, falling to his knees. His blows start to weaken, until they stop coming altogether and he crashes onto the pavement. I wait a few more seconds before releasing him, maybe for security, maybe due to nerves. Then I run to Nick's side.

He's barely conscious, trying to get up but not doing a very good job of it. I kneel next to him and help him into a sitting position.

“Clara..?” His gaze is too distant. “Clara, are you okay?”

“Am I okay? You should see yourself.”

He shakes his head, and winces. “I... how did you do that?”

“I took him by surprise.”

“You know what I mean.”

I look down. “I don't know. Don't worry about it. We need to get you to a hospital.”

His eyes drift shut for a second, and he gives a little nod. “Tha's probably a good idea.”

I shake his shoulder. “Hey. Stay awake.”

“Nnh, not right now.” His eyes start to close.

“Nick!”

“Hmm?”

I look up at the sky, trying to think. I doubt I could drag him, and I don't have a comm to call an ambulance. Aaron could wake up at any second...

Nick starts to flop to the side, and I throw an arm around him, pulling him to lean against me. Dammit.

The blue light. I'm gonna need that back.

Hey, you know that thing you did?

No response.

Hey, I'm gonna need that again. I hold Nick tighter. Now. I bite my lip. Please.

Nothing. For what seems like forever, it's nothing but my own heartbeat and Nick's shallow breaths.

Are you sure?

My heart leaps. Yes! Yes, I need it.

Alright. Your choice, I suppose.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and the blue light is there again. I reach for it eagerly, this time focusing all my being on Nick. Save Nick. Make him better.

He seems to jolt in my arms, and I feel my headache begin to return, the pain trickling into me like ink onto paper. The sting comes back to my elbows and once again, my vision is tinged with black. Nick sits up suddenly. We meet eyes for all of a second before I crumple, hitting the ground before he can even call my name.

#i hope theres enough context #basically after i moved out i stopped worrying that my parents were looking over my shoulder and Got Whumpy #the stuff from when i lived at home had the vibes but was very muted and glossed over #anyways! im still working on this story today #i need to find an ending but the characters are fun #its not entirely whumpy but it has moments #whump #whumpflash #whump writing #tw violence #beating #defiant whumpee #fantasy whump #i used to do everything in first person POV im sorry

[strcngergirls]

continued from here @theolderhenderson

elie was still trying to get use to the name change. after calling eleven el and switching it to jane was difficult. espeically when everyone still called her el. it felt wrong though to give a nickname of the number that was tattooed to her skin by an abusive man. elie still had no idea what had happened behind the walls of the lab. not for sure because jane never really spoke about it but she can only imagine what has gone down.

“listen, after the shit i’ve seen, you could tell me you changed colors and i would believe it.” after monsters, the death, the upside down, billy’s possession. who knows what else could happen if that was just the surface of everything. she listens as the other speaks. “more traumatizing.” she counters with a soft sigh. “he really didn’t help at all, huh? man was just evil and freaky.”

“they tried but she’s safe. being taken care of by someone i trust with my life. actually two adults that i trust. who’ve been there from the beginning of us finding all this shit. i’m not sure if they know. they’ve gone through every way they can to keep her hidden so i hope so.”

"Freaky is one way to put it." Francine can't help but laugh. For the first time in what feels like forever she feels seen, feels heard and understood. Something she never felt with anyone besides Ricky. But if Elie was telling the truth, if Eleven was safe and far from Brenner's clutches, she might be able to move on with her life. Ever since she left, a piece of her has been lingering in those hallways. A part of her mind that can't let go, can't forget about the other kids still in there. She always told herself she'd go back when she regained her strength, when she was sure she could take down the patriarchy once and for all. But when would that happen? Would all those kids die before she found the proper courage to do something about it?

She hadn't even realized she'd been holding her breath until a gust of air escapes her lungs, taking a heavy weight with it on the way out. She was safe. Francine didn't know how the girl managed to get away, but she wanted to think it was because of her and Ricky. Brenner had been caught off guard with the trios escape, his men were sent to look for them. Brenner only allowed a select few people to know what was going on inside the lab, so it wasn't as though he could just print a 'HELP WANTED' advertisement in the Hawkins Post to find replacement guards and orderlies. No, it meant his ranks were thinned and it might've helped Eleven get out. And maybe Henry had left, too. She desperately hoped that was the case.

"Thank you." The redhead has never said anything so sincerely in her life, or so it seemed. The Francine that existed before Hawkins Lab was dead, and this new hybrid of Fran and Six was all that was left. The guilt about her parents didn't exist anymore, instead replaced with a desperation to avenge the other kids in Brenner's care. Although she didn't do it herself, she was eternally grateful to whoever helped Eleven get out and stay out.

"I saw the way she looked in there. The way he watched her and controlled her like a pet. She deserves better than that." Francine wrapped her arms around herself, remembering the handful of times she'd seen the blonde little girl from behind the glass like a caged animal, not even knowing what kind of world existed outside those walls. Brenner had been so proud of his little experiment. He'd beamed when he told Francine how she looked at him like a father, and she remembered how it made her stomach flip-flop at the though of it. Her own father was evil, so she knew what it looked like. But even Roy Murphy wasn't as subtly maniacal as Martin Brenner. Her father was a fire, burning hot and destroying everything in it's path. Brenner, on the other hand, was like a venom. He slowly took hold until it was too late, until you were at the mercy of his bloodied hands.

"Is she..." Tramatized? Scared? Homesick? There were so many possibilities, and not all of them positive. Francine knew that Eleven wasn't under normal circumstances, but Eleven herself didn't know that. The Lab was all she'd ever known. "Is she happy?"

#a million years later ;a; #006. ━━ francine murphy ♡ interactions. #♡ queued ♡

[grieverled-moved]

  ➤ @burntchild REPLY CONTINUED . . .

The privacy of the moment is . . . admittedly relaxing. The draping shade of twilight skies offers a form of easy, comforting shelter, one that makes him feel more at ease within the dark's chilled embrace. It's late - midnight, less people even awake, even less active this far out where they've decided to stay & take refuge. Or more accurately . . . where Seifer'd chosen to stay, with Squall stubbornly trailing at his heels with his usual brand of concerned curiosity.

The mission had come, gone & passed without much more fanfare than usual in the other SeeD's eyes, though the moment they'd been dispatched, that knot of something anxious refused to leave. It wasn't until they'd really gotten caught in the thick of battle that he'd let go, taken his eyes reluctantly off the blonde, gave distance enough to trust that in the moment, he'd be alright, that he'd recovered enough, was in control & stable enough to pull through without Squall looming over his shoulder every step of the way.

Sure enough? They'd made it. Functioned well enough to tackle everything in their path head on with little struggle. It'd gone smoothly, too smooth, suspiciously, but with a grace he's willing to accept at face value for once, he doesn't question it.

It's . . . nice to see Seifer smiling again, the wide beaming peer of his ivory grin without the strain lacing it's edges, nothing short of brimming pride. For the first time in months - he looks like himself again.

Humming, the sound is a quiet one from where he stands, idly peering out into the harbour ahead, gaze tracing the way the waters shift & sway, a calm motion that continues in its lazy waves even when they swing their legs over the lip of the dock’s edge. In that moment, Squall lowers his walls, his guard, content to allow it with just the two of them here with nothing but the moon hanging overhead as their witness. It's here in this rare moment of celebratory peace that he feels things finally shifting enough for him to open up. His pendant hangs heavy against his collarbone, the cold metal of it making him more than aware as he reaches up to cradle it between his fingers, eyes skimming lovingly along the grooves of sculpted metal.

His precious symbol, the goal he'd carefully held in mind all these years as his personal pinnacle of strength - something that incited courage. It’s what he'd wanted to emulate more than anything when he was at his lowest point in life. As he goes to brush his thumb along the roaring maw of the lion's head, Squall finds himself speaking into the lake-calm air.

"I'm not used to letting people close. I don't like being vulnerable . . ." It's an admittence that he knows is well known. One that holds more truth than people realize, though they don't normally bother to dig much further than that. He doesn't blame them . . . knows he doesn't need to explain jack shit to Seifer either, knowing he understood. But that urge to spill his guts has crept through those lowered walls, & that comfort lingers just enough to sooth away any fears he might've had. With a soft laugh, he continues, still peering down at the metallic lion as the silence continues to span between the odd pair.

" . . . But I want to. With you? I want to let you in."

& that was a first for him. To want someone to see him at his most vulnerable, to give freely & allow it in exchange, to see all the good & the ugly without that ever present fear of being abandoned because the other wouldn't like what they seen. None of that is present here in the other's company. Something he feels the need to share now once the worst of their culminated events have finally eased in their crescendo.

He only finds himself releasing the pendant, allowing it to reclaim it's old space along his chest that Seifer shifts in closer, a light bump being given against his shoulder, though he takes care to stay close. His frame emanates a warmth that the gun-blader finds himself leaning into like a cat seeking sunlight. When it's his turn to interrupt the silence, Squall can only duck his head with a laugh, a tired but amused one no less genuine even in the reserved way it's expressed.

"I know." Comes his simple answer. The more firm way he presses against the blonde's side more than relays his answer. He trusts him, knows he wouldn't push more than he had to with him - a mutual understanding that'd been tempered into something he felt safe falling back on. Safe. He understands. "I just trust you. I wanted you to know that."

#╰┈➤ IN CHARACTER. #BURNTCHILD #➤ 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒. ◆ POST FINAL FANTASY 8 VERSE #❏ 〔 BURNTCHILD 〕 : Memories penned in blood & drawn with fire. Ash & bone turned to sand.

[freddiefcknmercury]

A Promise(part 2)- Crimson & Clover

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader(Black coded/Genderless)

Word Count: 2.7+

Warnings/Disclaimer: SMUT. ANGST. cursing. mild depression/heart-ache. etc etc. if something needs to be tagged please lemme know.

A/N: LOL I'm back on my bullshit yall. heavy angst/depression from the previous Steve centered storyline so if you haven't read "You really think I didn't know?" I'll do some magic linky links here and at the bottom just in case. Also I'm trying something kinda different with the way I post the fics so feedback is welcome.

ALSO this one comes with a tiny playlist! there are Bolded lyrics throughout if you want to get a deeper sense of where I was emotionally writing this and where reader is as well you can Def give these songs a listen, they are in order of appearance:

Crimson & Clover- Tommy James & The Shondells

Every Time I Breathe- Arlissa

Navy Blue - Hasani

Summary: Bucky takes an extended leave for "work" related reasons and reader slips back into some dark places in his absence...

~*As always, be Nice to me I’m Delicate*~

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He said he might be gone most of the week. Sam called the day before and all you know is it's something important. He didn't go into detail, just packed a bag and you'd never seen him do that before. But he was also only gone a day or two at a time and never felt the need to tell you about it before now either.

Up until recently you'd tip-toe around each other. Not like you used to with Steve though, worse. Bucky is a lot better at making sure you don't know he's there until it's too late. It felt like you'd never get used to each other, or more likely that you'd never want to. You might've still been secretly hoping that he'd stop caring and go away... after a while you got tired of your own bullshit and realized he's giving off that vibe on purpose. Wordlessly telling you how you should feel about him, not wanting to get too close. You never much liked being told what to do.

It was only about two months before you became a Barnes' expert. You'd sit up at night listening intently for when he'd shower, get in bed, or wake up. He never slept more than five maybe six hours at a time, you'll never understand how he can function like that. You know how he likes his coffee, which angle he holds his cup. How and where he takes off his shoes, how much ice he puts in a drink, the way he likes to cut his toast, and what time he has to do all of it. There's an almost unnerving pattern to him, one that's always been there and you were just unwilling to notice for so long, and you're not sure if he's even aware of it.

You woke up to him already gone. You knew he was leaving but actually being left alone like that unsettled you more than you anticipated, a serious case of Deja vu. You went into your routine like normal, because everything still was, but by the fifth day... you stepped into the front room and got that empty feeling. One you hadn't really had since...

It stopped you for a few seconds longer than you liked and a large knot formed in your stomach. You spent the whole day trying to ignore the feeling but it only got worse. Like a hunger pain but much more vague, crawling through each muscle. You'd catch yourself staring at his room, Bucky's room but also... Steve's. It's the first time you let yourself admit to him fully crossing your mind in over a year.

You laid up in bed, trying to count the metaphorical sheep to no avail. Getting up thinking that a snack or a warm drink will stop the restlessness, you pause in the tiny hallway shared by your bedrooms. The low blue light from the moon outside dustily illuminating the space through  a cloudy bathroom window. You stare at the door like any second he's going to ask what you're doing up so late and you can tell him to mind his own business while pouring two cups of tea.

You just wanted to touch the knob; turn it to make sure it still works- that you're still "allowed in there if you want". But stepping inside was too far, an invasion of Bucky's privacy, and you felt it. But you couldn't help yourself. You needed to know.

They were definitely cut from the same cloth. Sparse furnishings and no decorations, save a few very small trinkets he'd held onto from who knows where. There is exactly one row on his bookshelf filled with composition notebooks that were beat to hell and back. Sticky notes lined the edge of most of the pages, so much so that they easily could've been mistaken for feathers on a quick glance. You dare not touch them. Observing someone with a past that checkered is very different to reading into the things they deem worthy of physically writing down.

Where Steve used to leave small drawings and notes Bucky left half empty ink pens and a few well used pairs of gloves. You saunter to the far corner of the room and caress a worn leather jacket hanging precariously on the lowest peg of a coat rack. Doing a slow sweep of the space something in the otherwise barren closet catches your eye. The knot in your stomach that had almost disappeared was back and it brought friends. Your shirt. His shirt. The big one that said BROOKLYN across the front, what you didn't know was your "going away gift." The one you balled up and shoved in the top corner of his closet, at the time hoping you'd never look at it again. You're amazed that it's still here, that Bucky hadn't tossed it out or tried to give it back to you when he moved in.

So you put it on. You're still not sure why but you needed to wear it. To feel it drape over your skin, enveloping you in warmth and that beautiful clean familiar scent you... loved once. It sent a shiver down your spine. The knots in your stomach were gone but now there's one in your throat. You can feel the tears seated right behind your eyes. You sit on the bed holding your face pleading with the water to stay put but it's too late. You miss him. You hate to admit it, but it's true and it always has been. You're angry and you should be, you loved him- you thought he might've loved you. Pulling the hem of the shirt up you wipe the tears off your face and fall into a pillow, trying to calm yourself out of your rage unintentionally drifting into sleep.

*****************************************************

You wake up to the sound of music in the kitchen.

...Ah, now I don't hardly know her, but I think I could love her...

You sit up quickly checking your phone: 11:34am. You'd fallen asleep in Bucky's room, in his bed. A blanket had been placed over you and a short scan of the room returned a brown leather duffel bag and set of black boots that weren't present last night. He'd come back early this morning and found you here. You can feel your heart fall straight out of your ass, the void that was left being filled with pure embarrassment. Is he angry? He did tuck you in...

As slowly and quietly as possible you make your way towards the door, poking your head out just enough to assess the situation. You can see his back in the kitchen, he's hovering over the sink. You notice the couch, the spare blanket and pillow from the bathroom closet folded neatly on one of the arm rests, he had to sleep there. The void gets deeper. You pull the door open just enough to slip out of and there's a quiet creak. Steve never did fix that, and you just figured out why.

Bucky didn't turn around but definitely noticed. He steps to the side, now in front of the stove and you here something crack and sizzle. You're not sure what to do here. You can try to apologies and explain but there's no un-embarrassing way out of this one. You fold your arms over your stomach trying to hold all your very delicate pieces together while you attempt to speak up. Finally reaching the bar and fully prepared to say good morning when he quickly sets a hot bowl down in front of you. White rice and a fried egg- runny yolk. You'd make it for breakfast when you'd get up early or couldn't sleep, a friend from school put you on to it. Looks like he's been studying you too. You make eye contact but, just briefly. From what little of the expression you get on his face nothing indicates that he's mad. But he hasn't said anything to the contrary either.

How was your trip?  Dangerous I bet-sorry you couldn't come home and sleep in your own goddamn bed! Oh?! AND you made me breakfast!

You feel like a crazy person.

"Comfy last night?"

He's pouring himself some coffee, not yet turning your way. There's no hostility in his voice.

You chuckle nervously.

"Yeah.. sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it."

He sets a small glass of juice down in front of you. Heavy eye contact this time, but his expression is soft. He didn't ask for an explanation and you really didn't want to give him one. But you still feel guilt looming over you. You take the glass in both hands and nurse it.

He nods at you with a squint, taking a big sip of coffee.

"If I knew that was yours I would've given it back."

The shirt. You forgot you actually put it on. You hold your breath stroking the fabric gently. Contemplating your next words.

"It's not- well, not really."

He raises an eyebrow.

"It was a gift, so I guess it does belong to me..."

Glancing back down at it you can see him realize it says "Brooklyn." His expression changes to a knowing one and it reads like regret but he quickly tries to box it back up for you. This is a new move for him.

There's a much longer pause in conversation than either of you would like before he shifts his weight awkwardly.

"Sorry."

You push glass, now empty back across the bar towards him.

"Don't worry about it-"

You swivel in your seat quickly, taking your bowl and getting up to leave. He steps out from the kitchen after you.

"Thanks for breakfast."

The tears had been welling up and started to pour over as you left. You're still in no state to pretend to be a functioning person right now. Trying to save him from your ugly cry face by escaping but he grabs your shoulder gently suggesting you backwards.

You cover your mouth to hush a sob. You can see your chest start heave but there's nothing you can do to stop yourself. He grabs the bowl setting it down carefully, then you feel a warm metal sensation squeezing the back of your neck.

"You don't have to be over it."

He's been back a couple hours and already knows you're still a mess. You scoff, laughing at yourself really.

"What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing."

He whispered back quickly, exasperated, but tender.

You sniffle; pathetic.

"That's not how it feels."

"He fucked up. He just doesn't know it."

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders pulling you into his embrace.

It's nice to feel another person. A real solid human being; you can't remember the last time you hugged someone like this. You turn in his arms to face him. He looks tired. Not just 'had-to-sleep-on-an-old-couch' tired. Emotionally repressed. Maybe he has actually wanted to talk to you. He pulls you into him, it's just a hug  but it almost hurt how sweet this was.

Then a thought came to you, not really sure how, you can't handle more rejection right now; but you kissed him anyway, hard. Like him being gone almost killed you- because it did. He pulls away from you, just a little, reading your face his own expressionless. You search his eyes for any kind of hint as to what's going on inside his mind. You're not ready to admit this was a mistake yet. There's no real way to know how long you stood there like that. You only dare to move after you hear the song change in the background.

Words... thought they just fade away

but hurt... gave them a place to stay

"Do something."

You were sure it was just in your head but it creaked out past your lips in less than a whisper, pleading with him.

He covered your mouth with his, smoothing both hands down your neck to your shoulders gripping them gently, intently. You cling to his waist almost afraid to explore anywhere else, then slowly drag nails along his back. He pulls you back into him, you want to fuse with the warmth radiating off of his body, he bends and you collide onto the floor with a muffled thud. He cradles your head quickly so you don't get hurt but you wouldn't care at this point.

The way you fit into each other is unnerving, like your bodies weren't meant for anybody else. You both scramble to undress him in between breathy wet kisses and he's... magnificent. He pulls off his shirt and you swiftly run fingers from his neck down each arm. The metal one is warm, this surprises you for some reason. You watch as each "muscle" dances at your touch and you catch a small glimpse of something on his face that resembles insecurity... or fear. He shelves it quickly in response to you bucking your hips up to dismiss your underwear.

He buries his face in your neck, warm breaths ghosting your skin. Hooking his hands behind your knees he hoists your legs up around his waist. He bites down gently and you gasp. It's too much. He's everywhere, all at once. The last person to touch you event remotely close to this was-

"...Steve."

It just came out, you almost didn't notice it. Bucky stops, pulling back and away. He scans you, a pitiful, panting mess on the floor. The most vulnerable you've probably ever been and definitely in front of him. He shakes his head slowly once, chest heaving.

"No."

Knots line your stomach once again. He grabs your wrist to hold your arms in place up above your head and presses his forehead against yours.

"Look at me."

You hold eye contact there for a solid minute, you're sure of it. He leans forward delicately dragging teeth against your ear.

"You're gonna keep saying it until you can't forget."

He drops his hips and lines up with your entrance. You feel a thick wash of euphoria from the pressure, throwing your head back as much as possible given the floor. You roll your hips along to his, cradling each other perfectly.

His eyes didn't leave your face until you both feel your legs begin to tremble.

"Oh Bucky."

The only words you can remember.

You feel every stroke hasten and all his muscles tighten each time his name falls from your lips. He pulls your shirt up to your neck looking to spatter kisses and bite marks across your torso. You futilely dig one set of nails into the floor and the other in his shoulder as he hungrily growls into your stomach, cursing, longing for mercy.

"Fuck."

You pull him back up to your face demanding his tongue. You hear the floorboard creek from the pressure of a metal hand, the flesh one surely bruising your hip by now. There's a deep enduring moan from the back of his throat as he finds his release inside you. You gasp at the sensation and you both pant into each other, nothing but a mess on the floor now.

He presses a long, firm kiss into the bridge of your nose then falls gently on his back beside you. You roll your head up to look at his face, whatever it is he's feeling isn't immediately obvious as he stares up at the ceiling. You shift onto your side placing a light, cautious hand on his chest and he glances over at you, reaching to squeeze your thigh reassuringly.

The sky is Navy Blue soon to be baby blue and baby you got nothing but time...

He looks over your face in a deep sigh before retiring his gaze to the ceiling.

"I don't know him... The guy that left you like that."

You watch intently has his jaw clenched, he's never been able to hide that bit very well.

"I don't know what kind of..."

He trails off, clearly upset.

You sigh deeply.

"I was gonna die that night."

He rolls his head back to look at you.

"The day I met him? I had pretty much made up my mind."

You start to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. Almost reminiscent.

"But he found me in the staircase..."

You hate how subtly he did some things. If you weren't lying next to him. There's no way you'd ever be able to tell his breathing had changed.

"Essentially-"

You pick your head up, chin on his sternum.

"He saved my life."

You state matter of factually. You watch his body relax in a short, bitter way.

He rolls his head over just enough to look you in the eyes. You kiss his chest once tenderly before moving to stand up. You extend a hand down for him to grab.

"That isn't good for your back."

"You really think I didn't know?" Part1

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky imagine #bucky angst #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x genderless!reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #fic playlist #crimson and clover #every time I breathe #navy blue #arlissa #tommy james and the shondells #hasani #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers #steve rodgers imagine #milk of magnesia

[aros001]

Going in blind: Watching season 3 for the first time. Random thoughts.

Episode 1: I know in the original series She-Ra was the sister of He-Man so I'm curious how much of that will be carried over to this series. Not saying He-Man has to make an appearance, same as how Batman didn't need to show up in Teen Titans. That was Robin's story, not his, and similarly this is Adora's story, not Adam's. Regardless, it makes sense why Hordak was so annoyed with the baby Adora in Shadow Weaver's flashbacks. To SW, there was something different and special about the baby, but to Hordak, whom seems familiar with the world before Mara separated Etheria from the rest of the universe, including Eternia potentially, Adora is just another "First One" child like he's seen many times before. Special in comparison to those who only know Etheria.

Great clap-back from Catra to Hordak, and not entirely unfounded. It's debatable how much he actually cares about conquering Etheria. He has others leading his forces in his war yet all his focus is on his portal creation.

According to Entrapta, productivity of the Horde is up 400% ever since Catra became Hordak's 2nd in command. I wondering how much of that is Catra's direct doing? Is she genuinely just that good of a commander? Is it because she's properly delegating and Scorpia has been handling most of the load? Or is this just because it's in comparison to Shadow Weaver? Entrapta said Catra's focus on First Ones' tech has been greatly aiding them and SW definitely focused more on magic, which was an aid mostly to herself since everyone else in the Horde seems to fight only with weapons and technology. And most of what she saw of SW while she was Hordak's 2nd was her being obsessed with bringing back Adora rather than fighting the war.

Episode 2: Let's see... Hordak's easily an adult and Entrapta is...[checks google] late twenties, early thirties. Oh good, then let's sail this ship!

But yeah, that was a heck of a backstory for Hordak. This reminds me of a video by a Youtuber named Savage Books comparing the villain Steppenwolf in the theatrical and Snyder Cut versions of Justice League and how, while he still wasn't a great villain, just a small addition made him a much better villain, that being a failure in his past and the desire just to go home. And in this case, Hordak is the much better, or at least way more developed, version of that. One of many clones of Hordak Prime but having a defect that labelled him a failure and had him cast out to Etheria, a "backwards world" as he's called it before. If he can conquer Etheria, perhaps by building a portal that'll bring forward Prime's army, he believes that'll prove to Prime that he is not a failure and that he can return home to rejoin his forces. Just this bit of backstory adds SO MUCH to Hordak, including new insights on his past interactions, and keeps him from being a flat character like theatrical version Steppenwolf. His lack of tolerance for failure makes sense when he himself is trying to prove that he's not. It gives him compelling motivation to want to conquer Etheria beyond just power and greed. Not motivation you're meant to agree with but one you can still understand.

I like the story with Huntara too. It's a nice little tie-in to something Adora was talking about with Glimmer and Bow last episode. Adora defected from the horde, not because she was different but rather very much in spite being very much like every other soldier there. She wanted to believe Shadow Weaver may have at least some goodness in her too and now we have Huntara as a fellow defector who realized the evils of the Horde, even if she chose to stay out of the war entirely after.

Episode 3: I legit thought Catra stabbed the goat lady for a second.

After Scorpia asking her why don't they just stay in the wastes I'm seeing a bit of a parallel between Catra and Hordak. They've both found a place where they can be the top dog, where they can do and have basically anything they want; her with the wastes and him with the Horde. They can be happy. ...But there's still this pull they're feeling to somewhere else. Catra back to the Horde and Hordak back to Prime. Because they feel they have to prove something; prove that they're not failures. They could be happy but they can't let go.

And that scene between Adora and Catra at the end. That was such a great line read from Catra's actor. "She left me for you. Everything that's happened is because of you." I got chills.

Minor note: While I'm only judging off the Mara hologram, which didn't have color, I do think the She-Ra outfit looks better with pants than shorts like Adora's She-Ra form. I think it makes it look sleeker, if that makes any sense.

Episode 4: Catra's spiral has turned into a drill and its taking her down as far as she can go. Though something I had to a laugh a little at myself over was that my biggest "Catra, no!" reaction wasn't to her wanting to open the portal but rather when she lied to Hordak and said Entrapta let the princesses in. She was actually a positive influence on Hordak's life and Catra with one move just destroyed that relationship and all progress Hordak had been making.

I'm guessing there's going to be some kind of long-term effect from Shadow Weaver continuously siphoning off Glimmer's magic. The woman is basically a parasite and the magic she uses is very different from the kind Glimmer does. I can't believe it never occurred to me that since Shadow Weaver trained Glimmer's father there might be a connection there between the two of them later in the story. While we don't know about anything that might've happened after she left, SW clearly had enough affection for Micah still to not kill him. I could see her trying to take Glimmer on as a student later like she did him.

Episode 5: There is something kind of hilarious about it being Scorpia's jealousy of Catra and Adora's closeness that causes her to be the first one after Adora to pick up that something is off.

11 is my favorite of the Doctor Who Doctors so naturally I'm comparing all this to the crack in Amy Pond's bedroom wall. Whatever goes in gets forgotten about and basically never existed. Though does that mean Bright Moon isn't going to remember the Horde? Basically that entire place got sucked up in the collapsing reality. There shouldn't be at war anymore because their enemy literally no longer exists.

Adora and Catra had their own little Star Trek 3 moment there.

Adora: "If we don't help each other, we'll die here!"

Catra: "Perfect! Then that's the way it shall be!"

Catra's just so far down her spiral she doesn't even care about getting her own win, just so long as Adora doesn't get one, despite just minutes ago clearly loving having Adora back in her life and on her side, to the point was trying to resist remembering the old reality. Her "perfect" world was them together again but when given the chance (another of many. I love those cuts to their past woven in there) she slapped the hand away.

I'm sure I'm wrong but I'm starting to theorize Madam Razz is actually Mara and just at some point went kind of crazy and started thinking as and Mara were two different people.

Episode 6:

"You are everything I ever wanted in a son. This... This is everything I ever wanted in a life. ...But I've got responsibilities, Van. And...I have to...go now."

-Superman, Justice League Unlimited: For the Man Who Has Everything

That was my favorite episode of JLU, where Superman is trapped in this world that isn't real but still perfect in every way, and the only way out was to give up everything he'd ever wanted, including a son he remembers watching grow up, even if it never really happened. With a similar premise, this definitely helped elevate Angela up a bit for me, whom I was kind just meh with before. I didn't dislike her but I didn't really care much for her either. This episode gave her a lot to work with though, with the heavy sacrifice she made. Not just saying behind to pull out the sword but just simply forcing herself to accept her husband is gone and not coming back. I was right that they wouldn't remember the Horde, but I definitely didn't think of the full effects of them never existing. They never exist, Bow never becomes a rebel instead of a scholar like his dads wanted. They don't exist, Micah never dies in battle against them. Glimmer gets to grow up with her father in her life. Everyone, most especially Angela, has to reject everything they would love to be real in favor of what actually is.

I'm guessing we're going to have Shadow Weaver taking advantage of this situation, trying to act like a teacher and mother-figure to Glimmer now that she's basically a orphan.

I talked before about how Catra and Hordak seem to have a parallel between them, especially regarding failure. Catra seems like she has a very hard time accepting her own failures and mistakes and thus why she more or less uses Adora as a mental scapegoat for all of it. Nothing is ever really her fault, it's Adora's, or Shadow Weaver's, or Hordak's. It makes for a great moment when Adora finally punches back, both literally and figuratively. She's not going to accept responsibility for Catra's actions anymore. She gave Catra every chance to make the right choice and she didn't, so now she has to finally live with the consequences. Heck of a glare She-Ra gave Catra at the end. Very much a "If I ever see you again..." and it certainly scared Catra, at least for a moment.

Now, someone go save Entrapta from Beast Island!

Season 3 verdict: Easily the best season thus far. I know this was technically the second half of season 2 but even in comparison to the full season 1 there was just so much that happened in this, so much that got revealed, and so, so many moments of emotion or tension. Weirdly I feel kind of disappointed that Hordak Prime is probably going to come in now and be the new big villain. I really like our Hordak's motivation and Prime seems like he might just be the generic conqueror for power that Hordak seemed like he was going to be at first. Not saying those types can't work. I love All For One from My Hero Academia and Frieza from Dragon Ball. Those guys are pure evil and selfishness, but they also have a captivating presence/charisma to them.

Naturally, since I bring her up the most out of all the characters, I'm very curious to see what happens with Catra now. She's basically nuked every positive relationship she had with anyone. Entrapta's gone, she threatened Scorpia, Hordak's not going to trust anyone including her anymore now that he thinks Entrapta's betrayed him, and Adora firmly sees her as an enemy. She has no one (those under her direct command don't count) and it's entirely her own fault.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/PrincessesOfPower/comments/o0trfz/going_in_blind_watching_season_3_for_the_first/

#she ra #she ra spop #random thoughts #reddit repost

[ayanacam]

Stand Still

:03

Four Months Ago...

August 6th, 2022

"Alright class, let's bring our legs into a bent position and begin to do our quick breaths." Instructor Carson Bengali spoke happily.

Dallas held up Christen's legs, her stomach rounded more than ever at the fifth month mark. Dallas smiled as Christen huffed at her discomfort, Christen restless than ever since she couldn't lay on her stomach anymore. Her ankles were starting swell and her hormones were everywhere. She wasn't allowed to work, according to him, afraid of not being somewhere he knew nothing weird could happen without his supervision.

"Are you okay?" Dallas whispered into her hair.

"I'm going to be when I give birth to your daughter. She keeps moving and it's annoying." She answered with annoyance.

Dallas chuckled into her ear, "Well I think you look sexier than ever."

Christen could feel the heat in her body travel up her neck and into the chubbiness of her cheeks. Lately she had been horny as ever and nothing could satisfy her, even countless hours mounted on her husband. They would spend weekends simply trying to satisfy her craving for him.

"Alright class let's begin." Carson clapped.

Quick breaths exercise ensued and Dallas had even joined in along with the other soon to be fathers. Christen looked around, other partners around the room, laid out on a variation of colored mats. Other wives looked as uncomfortable as she felt, the prospect of having her vagina on technical display a little awkward. Christen began to focus on Carson, her breaths following the rhythm she was pacing out for everyone in the class.

"Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha," Carson brought her arms up and down, "Partners make sure your wives are getting enough air into their diaphragm. Don't let them short themselves because of the tempo."

Multiple significant others brought themselves around watching their girls, making sure they were acquainted with everything.

"Are you okay baby?" Dallas smiled.

She nodded, her breaths on a consistent pace. Her throat was burning with the quickened pace of breathing but she was doing this to make sure she could get through the birth of their little girl.

Dallas held his wife's legs up as she breathed, a warm sensation rushing throughout his body. He was undeniably excited, so ready for what was to come. He had been wanting a child for what had felt like years, but he wasn't so sure he'd get them, that is until now.

"Alright class, five more seconds and then we're done!" Carson announced.

Present Day 

January 17th, 2023

The class had ended that day on such a happy note from what Christen could remember. They had gone to lunch and enjoyed their simplistic meals before heading over to the park and walking for a few minutes so she could get her exercise of the day in. It seemed like so long ago but if she thought about it, it was only weeks; sixteen weeks to be exact.

"Christen?" Andrew's voice abruptly brought her to the car.

The windows were frosted, tinted over in a clear dust in just the few minutes that the car had been sitting in the parking lot. The engine had been cut off for a minute or two, but that didn't stop North Carolina's winter frost from creeping over the two of them.

"Yeah?" Her voice thick, almost like she had swallowed a glob of peanut butter.

"Are you okay? Do you need to talk?"

She shook her head, her eyes focused on the small parking lot of the police station. She could slightly remember the night her and her late husband had gotten caught for streaking on the small town's river that one night, but that was years ago and the man she knew then was nothing like the man she had realized he had been during his years on this earth with her.

"I just need to know," she spoke suddenly. "Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"About what he was doing? Did you know...about the other..woman?" She choked.

Andrew's heart broke. Andrew hadn't known, but he might've been thrown signs that hadn't clearly stood out to him. His head shook, his eyes watching her every move in case of a small breakdown.

"Why didn't I see the signs?" She questioned herself softly.

It was all starting to make sense. The business trips and how secretive he was about the bank accounts. They were always separate; she had hers and he had his. Nothing was ever joint in the making of their marriage, except their license. Her mind was racing, searching for all of the times something could fit into this catastrophic puzzle of events. This was her life, this wasn't a scenario that someone could make up.

"Christen, you had nothing to do with him and his ways." Andrew testified, he refused to see this woman beat herself up over a man that wasn't a good one to stay faithful and honest.

"And what if I did?" Christen's voice was even thicker, something Andrew couldn't tolerate.

Tears dropped heavily across her cheeks, staining and drying streaks on the way down. Her face was dry and cracked, lack of moisturization and hydration playing into her state of madness. Her curls strewn across her face as she tried to hide from the cameras and the pitiful stares of the hometown people. Everyone knew, everyone. There wasn't a soul in this world that didn't know, at least in Christen's eyes.

"Christen you can't blame yourself for his mistakes and secrets. He isn't worth it. He was never worth it." Andrew started the car. 

She nodded, not truly taking in his words but instead disbelieving.

Christen's thoughts were everywhere and no where. Her body still being in a state of shock, hearing information she didn't quite believe. She had thought something else for the last few years of her life, her trust never failing against Dallas. Her perception of him was completely altered now, something she could never get back. 

"I want to meet her." she whispered as Andrew slipped onto the road and continued straight. 

Andrew's face pulled into one of shock. His emotions were way less worse than what Christen must have been feeling but even he knew it was probably a bad idea to meet the woman, whom carried Dallas's "bastard" children in a way, so soon after the incident. He knew Christen would be even more broken if she was given more truth on top of her dwindling mental state. That trip could lead her straight into a mental hospital, that he positively knew. 

"Why?" Andrew spoke after a few more moments of silence. 

"She's hurting too Andrew," Christen explained quietly. "She has kids with Dallas, at one point living a picture perfect life or somewhat. He wasn't there. I don't know what Dallas had set up for her."  she choked, thinking this woman was just as set as she was. That Dallas had everything taken care of in case something did happen with his shady past. "I also need to be in touch for the insurance policy since he's gone. He didn't have a will, so everything is rightfully mine. She deserves support too." 

Always the person to have a big heart even when she was broken. Andrew was in full disbelief in what Christen had presented. She was going through turmoil, a destructive and disastrous one, yet she wasn't even thinking of herself. Her husband and her daughter were both brutally murdered, her the only survivor to the madness. She had also been hurt, her ribs and face busted. 

"If that's what you want." 

Christen simply nodded. She couldn't find the words to say what she really wanted to say. That she was hurt, obliterated, and exhausted. She didn't want to admit that she felt like disappearing. She, at this point, could care less about Dallas. Her anger shining through subtly. Her own daughter was taken away due to his careless mess. She wanted her daughter more than ever. 

"When would you want to go?" 

"As soon as possible, preferably." Her voice sounded. 

She sounded far away, her ears still disheveled after being hit on the side of her head. 

Andrew nodded, "I'll get her information and I'll let you know." 

The car pulled into the motel parking lot. Andrew hadn't wanted to take her to the house. The crime scene was still commenced and blood was everywhere. He had been their as soon as he was called to be Christen's lawyer. He had to know what he was dealing with. Seeing his best friend's body was one for the books. Eyes were wide open while blood, that had dried over the last twenty-four hours, sat around the entirety of his body. His face was as white as a ghost, blood drained. His body was upright, and spread eagle across the foyer floor. They suspected that was Dallas's demise, being thrown off the balcony from upstairs. 

The rest of the house was covered in blood spatters and broken memories. Pictures, with their broken frames, covered the stairs and upstairs. The nursery bed was broken, luckily Angela hadn't passed that way. Didn't mean that it hadn't been a painful death, but Andrew knew he wouldn't be able to deal if he had seen his god daughter smashed by the bed. Her small body would've been crushed, splattering everywhere in vicinity. She had passed after being suffocated in her car seat, patiently waiting for her mother that had almost saved her. 

What Christen didn't know was that there was camera footage of the whole incident, there security cameras working faithfully. They had them installed after Angela was born so that they would always know she was safe. Andrew had seen everything. 

His stomach becoming queasy, he opened the car door and puked. Christen immediately jumping to his aid while his arms forced her back. Tears streamed his face as he let the contents of his stomach go. 

Eventually it had subsided, Christen standing to the right of his door. She wanted to reach out and console him. She knew this situation had taken a toll on him just as it did her. 

"It's not your fault." Her voice broke. 

Andrew shook his head, his breathing even but tears trailing down his cheeks. 

"I should've protected you Christen. That was my promise. Ever since that night, I tried to keep it. I'm so sorry." Andrew admitted through broken syllables. 

Christen shook her head, here was not the place to discuss the night she realized her feelings for Andrew. That maybe she had chosen the wrong man to spend the rest of her life with. 

"You couldn't have known. It's not your fault Andrew." She whispered through her erratic heart beating. 

She pulled his arm, dragging him around his mess and pulling him to the side. 

They hugged while he leaned against the car for support. His head buried in her hair, she smelled of anesthetic and disinfectant. Somehow calming and disorienting in the least, but that was the least of his worries. His heart was beginning to calm down slightly, his breathing returning to normal. 

"Come on." He spoke softly. He tapped her shoulders and spun her around to lead her to the room. It was nice, two beds with a full access bathroom and windows. He kept the curtains closed in case of cameras sneaking pictures to incriminate Christen. 

"How long do we have here?" Christen questioned. 

"As long as you're comfortable to stay here. I didn't know if you wanted to start looking for apartments." 

She nodded, sitting on the bed. 

"Can I sleep?" Christen wanted nothing more than to do just that. She wanted to sleep the rest of her life away so that she no longer had to deal with the emotional repercussions of this situation. 

"Of course." 

She pulled the bed sheets back and slipped in, still wearing everything but her shoes that she had discarded at the front door. 

Her eyes shut and soon enough, as Andrew peaked at her a few moments later, she was fast asleep.