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actual-changeling · 11 months

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This post is something that can actually be so personal and no I am not done talking about it. There's a whole concept behind it and the fucking hair ties are just one way of channeling it but oh boy is it a good one. This works so well with the hair braiding too and i cannot think about it to much or i will spontaneously combust, but I had to so I hope you enjoy the result of it.

Joel has a hair tie on his wrist because Ellie forgets to take a spare and when the first one breaks or she loses it somehow, he can offer it to her before her hair becomes an annoyance.

He has one because she gives it to him sometimes when they're laying on the couch and her ponytail makes resting her head on a pillow or against his chest uncomfortable. At times she also takes it out simply because her scalp is especially sensitive that day and the constant pull becomes painful after a while. There's always another one in his jacket pocket, too, so when Ellie asks him for braids afterward or allows him to do her hair he isn't limited to simpler styles.

It starts with hair ties in Jackson but there are months of different acts preceding it.

Joel carried whatever he could for her, taking more than necessary sometimes because the slim line of her shoulders being weighed down by her backpack made his heart ache even when he couldn't admit it to himself back then, not at first at least. There are water bottles, sweatshirts she cannot quite fit into hers that day, all of their food, whatever first aid materials he can find, even a spare bar of soap.

Then he starts carrying hair ties once they get to Jackson and suddenly he needs to keep a brush on him, too, and with the brush comes a comb and with the comb comes a hat and with the hat comes a homemade creme he traded for since her hands are uncomfortably dry sometimes (she never said so but he knows her), and after that what started as a small piece of twisted fabric turns into him carry a bag around that is filled with everything his brain thinks Ellie might require at some point. Sure, maybe he is being a little bit overprotective and maybe Tommy jokes about getting him a purse several times, but he can offer her sunscreen and a bottle of water during summer, he gives her gloves and a scarf in winter when she doesn't remember to put them on before leaving, there's always one of her books in a side pocket, too, and as soon as he finds her a new one, her Walkman gets an especially safe place in his bag.

And yes, he fusses over her a little bit too much, maybe even to the point of being smothering sometimes (she always tells him to back off when that happens and he does without complaint), but Ellie grew up utterly alone and without someone to look after her for fourteen years, she deserves to know what it is like to be cared about by someone. Whatever she asks for, whatever she needs, he gives it to her even when she could walk home and come back with the thing in question in less than ten minutes. There's always a snack, a spare sweatshirt in case she gets cold, space for the one she takes off when she gets too warm, a small sketchbook and a pencil both as a distraction and so she can draw whenever she feels like it.

No one pays any attention to it, and while Tommy softly teases him about it from time to time, the smile that blooms on Ellie's face when he quietly gives her something she needs based on nothing but hardwired instincts before the words leave her mouth tells him everything he needs to know.

Joel might not be good with words, but he continues to carry a bag and hands her little pieces of his love time and time again, hoping she can put the puzzle together, hoping she knows.

Ellie does the same, hoping Joel notices it, hoping he knows what it means, that with every time she tells him to rest, every cup of coffee on his nightstand, every night spent in his bed when she wakes to the mere suggestion of a nightmare and brushes them away before they can settle so she can put herself in their place instead, every trashy action movie she borrows from the library for their weekly movie night, every handmade guitar pick she gifts him, every single gesture she does not have to do but does regardless because she wants to, she is saying I love you, too.

They notice, they care, they willing hand over carefully chosen parts of themselves and the puzzle they piece together is one and the same, because paying attention to things is how they show love and it is oh so easy when there is nothing to look at but each other.

#alex writes tlou #the last of us #tlou #joel and ellie #joel miller #ellie williams #fanfic #miller family #episode 3 reference because i go insane over half the lines they say fucking craig i hate you i hate you what did you do to my brain #also i finally got the bill and frank strawberry shirt and i am wearing it right now and i am in love #two old gay men living a happy life in the apocalypse is actually so defining to me as a lesbian #does that make sense probably not but its true #anyway inbox open as always it is easier to write you something if it's related to my current brain rot topic but i get to everything #eventually i just wanna do it properly

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sirbird · 6 months

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Questioning Vig

#my art #miguel o'hara #a fortunate mistake #Miguel variant #I wanna try making more dynamic pieces for this fic but my lack of knowledge in perspective stops me :(#but doesn’t mean I won’t try :)#shoutout to nena revealing vigs true nature #i miss my wife tails #as always love this fic so much #miguel o hara fanfic

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mearchy · 26 days

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I used to read a lot of really really dark sad whump fics pretty much exclusively. Characters getting absolutely mentally and physically annihilated in the worst, most soul-crushing circumstances possible. Lots of hurt no comfort. Lots of apocalypses. Over the past five or six years, I’ve turned to reading mostly stories about characters getting dogs and having adventures with them, or growing old together, or escaping bad circumstances against all odds. Fix-it AUs. Slice-of-life fics. I’m not necessarily a happier person. I think I just value those stories more than I did. Something something the dystopia is here something something wisdom comes with age. Dykwim

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thetomorrowshow · 9 months

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last words

empires superpowers au masterlist (currently out of date)

dedicated to everyone who asked what lizzie said that made jimmy stop trying to kill her :)

cw: past abuse, scars, reference violence

It’s been bothering Scott for a while, honestly. Several months. And now that he and Jimmy are . . . trying things out, it feels like the perfect time to ask him.

They’re in bed together, and it’s late morning on a day that Scott doesn’t have to work. Jimmy’s still staying at Lizzie’s place for the most part, but date night had gotten a bit . . . steamy, so Jimmy had texted his sister denying the need for a ride home and promising to return the next day. She had responded with a string of scandalized emojis that had made Jimmy blush and turn off his phone.

Jimmy’s been awake longer than Scott has, scrolling through his phone and snorting occasionally at whatever it is he sees. Scott watches him for a moment, eyes tracing across his bare chest and the scars found there.

He’d told Jimmy last night that his body was beautiful, perfect, gorgeous—even his scars. His many, many scars.

Most of the time, he can forget why they’re there. Some of them make that a little more difficult.

Even with the blanket pulled up nearly to his pecs, Scott can see most of the letters. Property of Xornoth, it reads. Somehow, it’s not even the one that makes him the angriest. The one on his back, the one that reads curious little bird, is one that he can hardly stand to look at, and the most confusing one is the small, even surgical scar just behind his ear. He loves Jimmy though, and loving Jimmy means loving all of him.

Impulsively, Scott presses a kiss to Jimmy’s shoulder. His partner starts, surprise quickly giving way to a smile.

“Hey, you, don’t go starting things again,” Jimmy tells him, poking Scott in the chest with his phone. Scott gestures to it, the question that had been nagging at him for so long coming to the front of his mind. He pushes it aside once again.

“When’s Lizzie coming by?”

Jimmy grimaces. “Don’t know. She didn’t much like me ignoring her last night, so she’s decided to ignore me.”

Scott had never had siblings, so he doesn’t know if this is a normal sibling relationship or not. Well, probably not ‘normal’, exactly, what with their past and their powers. But Jimmy doesn’t seem to find her behavior out of the ordinary, so Scott has to assume that it isn’t.

Which still, of course, brings him to his question.

“Can I ask you something? No obligation.”

No obligation is a system that works for now, but certainly has its flaws. They’d set it up on literally the second day of their relationship—if one of them asks a question with that clause, the other doesn’t have to answer if they don’t want to. Of course, Scott’s done his best to impress upon Jimmy that he has no obligation to answer any question, but that’s something they’re working on.

Scott never wants to pressure Jimmy into answering a question just because he forgot to add those two words that meant Jimmy didn’t have to answer. Hopefully, in time, they can progress beyond a need for it.

“Go for it,” Jimmy responds, and Scott can see on his phone that he’s closing the social media account he’d been browsing in favor of opening up his sketchpad app. He draws a couple of smiling turtles while Scott tries to figure out how to word his question.

He ought to have it figured out by now, seeing as he’s imagined asking it countless times. Now that it’s finally time for an answer, though, all proper words seem to have fled his brain.

“So . . . the fight. The big one, at the end of—everything. When you—and Lizzie—” Scott cuts himself off as he feels Jimmy stiffen beside him, finger frozen on the screen. “Sorry, it doesn’t matter,” he amends, reaching for his own phone.

“Wha—no, it’s fine!” Jimmy sits up, sheet slipping down to his waist, revealing the painful-looking ropey scar that curves down his side. He takes one of Scott’s hands in his, smiles with what appears to be a considerable amount of effort.

It feels stupid now, though. Stupid to bring up that day, or that time in general. Still, Jimmy wants to try to answer, so Scott makes himself finish the question.

“What did—well, you were fighting Lizzie, there at the end of the overall fight, just before—um, she said something to you. Can I know what she said?”

Jimmy starts to answer, stops. He doesn’t seem . . . distressed, so to speak, other than the crease in his brow and the tense grip on the sheets he has. He frowns, lips turning in an adorable little pout that Scott is struck by the urge to kiss right off his face. He restrains himself.

“When, exactly?”

He hadn’t wanted to specify. Scott has this terrible feeling that the moment he brings up any particular points of the fight, Jimmy will be thrown into a flashback or panic attack. Still, he asked, and the words on his back make Scott hesitate in spurning any question from him.

No obligation is a system that he needs right now, too.

“Um, well—they had ordered you to—you know—so you attacked Lizzie, and you had her on the ground—” he runs a hand down his face, trying to figure out the kindest way to word it— “Well, you were about to . . . take her out, and then—I was too far away to hear, but I saw her lips move. And you stopped the attack.”

He’s monitoring Jimmy for any signs that he should stop, but so far the man is relatively calm, nodding along with the story. He’s still frowning, though.

“I was told to kill Lizzie,” Jimmy says, and Scott flinches. Jimmy doesn’t seem to notice, because he continues his train of thought. “And then when I had her on the ground, and I went to hit her again, she . . . said something? And I stopped?”

“Yeah,” Scott tells him. “Yeah, she said something, and you, like—froze, almost, then jumped off her. And that’s when—you know. The next part happened.”

Jimmy doesn’t answer. Instead, he absently draws something on his phone, eyes lost in a distant gaze. Finally, his face clears and he nods.

“Right, right,” he says, adding a dot to his drawing. His face turns rueful when he looks up to meet Scott’s eyes. “I think I remember. She, uh . . . she didn’t say anything.”

That can’t be right. Scott saw it, he saw her speak. He opens his mouth to continue arguing his point, but apparently something in his face tips Jimmy off and he pats Scott’s arm gently.

“Maybe she did say something, but I didn’t notice. I wasn’t looking at her. It hurt too much to look at her. All—all I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears. . . .” Jimmy shudders, taps his phone a couple of times.

Scott really should stop pressing. He really should apologize and do something to help Jimmy feel safe. He really should get up, fix them both something to eat, and move on.

But he’s always needed to be right. One of these days, that arrogance is going to kill him.

“What made you stop, then?”

Jimmy squints his eyes shut, takes a deep breath. Scott starts to say something—an apology or retraction, he’s not sure—but Jimmy speaks before he can.

“I was killing her,” he says, voice utterly devoid of emotion. “And I knew I would do it. And I knew they would keep telling me to kill. For the rest of my life, I would just be a weapon. Killing the people I care about.”

He opens his eyes and stares out into the middle distance, expression unreadable. Scott doesn’t move.

“You were defeated, and I was about to kill my sister, and something broke inside. And finally, I decided that—that I’d rather die trying to stop them than kill so many people. They—they were going to make me kill so many . . . I killed for them without a thought and soon there would be no more thoughts to have . . . I had—I—”

A tear slips down Jimmy’s cheek, and Scott holds out a hand. Jimmy takes it instantly, collapses onto Scott in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” Scott murmurs into his neck, holding Jimmy as tightly as he dares. “I shouldn’t have pressed. I’m sorry.”

“Feelin’ floaty,” Jimmy mumbles, adjusting so that his hands curl around Scott’s shoulders.

“That’s okay. What do you need?”

Jimmy shrugs.

“Okay. Do you want to shower?”

The apprehension that ripples through Jimmy’s body is palpable, and he seems to shrink against Scott, nails digging into Scott’s shoulders. “No, n-no—”

Scott swallows, tears of his own building at the fear in Jimmy’s voice. “We won’t, then. Um—your journal is at Lizzie’s, but if you want to keep drawing on your phone—”

“Lizzie’s okay,” Jimmy mutters to himself, his grip loosening. “Lizzie’s okay and Scott’s okay and I’m okay.” He breathes deeply, clearly still upset, but beginning to recover.

There’s an almost imperceptible buzz through the air, and Scott braces himself—Jimmy gasps—the lightbulb in Scott’s bedside lamp pops out, bounces off the table and lands on the carpet with a soft thump.

“Mm, good job,” Scott praises, planting a kiss on Jimmy’s cheek. “Nothing’s broken, it’s all okay!”

For once, Jimmy seems to believe him, lifting his head to reveal a hopeful smile. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” Scott reassures him. “It was a good way to redirect your anxiety without hurting yourself. Remember that you feeling safe is a higher priority than any accident that occurs.”

Jimmy sighs, and Scott continues. “I’m sorry for pressing. I should’ve stopped when I noticed you were distressed.”

“No, I wanted to talk about it,” Jimmy says, picking up his phone from where he’d dropped it, hands still trembling. His smile turns sly. “Had to prove you wrong.”

“Oh, that’s—now I’m going to ask Lizzie about it, I know I’m right—”

Jimmy’s laugh isn’t quite right, and the tension in his jaw belies any attempts at acting calm, but he’s okay. And really, that’s all that matters.

Scott does ask Lizzie, later, when Jimmy isn’t around. She fixes him with the same blank stare that Jimmy had, confused until he goes into further detail. When she finally understands, she laughs, claps him on the back.

“Right. I don’t really remember saying anything, but maybe you saw me . . . I don’t know, moving my mouth for no reason? Spitting out blood? I was pretty out of it, Scott, but I didn’t say a word.”

#empires smp #empires smp fanfic #jimmy solidarity #scott smajor #flower husbands #empires superpowers au #esh au #mas writes #this has always been true by the way #it's not something i retconned in my own fic #i intended this to be the answer to that question the whole time :)#080823 #anyway. you've been fed for the month #if you're reading this i haven't returned to tumblr yet #when will /i/ be back from the war...#anyways lmk what you think #love you guys

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autism-corner · 8 months

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The Seven and a Half Morningstars

AO3 || 2.1K words || you/yours pronouns || Masterlist

Levi and Lilith have something in common. Something none of their brothers have. They both are the reason that 'the morningstar/demon brothers' doesn't really apply anymore.

transfem sisters figuring themself out together. although, not at the same time or without severe loss (and gain). <3

ft. you loving levi (either romantically or platonically)

Levi knew. She’d known for a long time, but she was content with the way things were. Until you came around. She could handle everyone seeing a gross guy otaku. She could not handle you, seeing her in a way that wasn’t her true self. It felt like lying to you, and that's the last thing she’s ever wanted. Part of her thought it was selfish, but she wanted you to love her. Not him.

—

It all began way back in the celestial realm. Back when they were known as the seven brothers. Ofcourse, everyone was siblings to each other in that place, but everybody could tell that these seven had something special between them. Lucifer, the morningstar, had basically adopted the younger boys, and it created a bond that few, if any, could break. While every one of them looked up to Lucifer, each angel was also steadily growing attached to the other 5. Mammon and Asmo were both extremely extroverted and found common ground there, and the twins were already close as could be. Lilith and Levi were both outsiders, and that’s where they connected.

Ofcourse, Lilith had the twins as well, but Lilith tended to wander around more, and he kept feeling like he didn’t really belong in heaven anyway. Ofcourse, Lilith loved his brothers, but sometimes he longed for a different life. A more free one. That’s why he drifted towards Levi. Leviathan always seemed to be in his own little world, and Lilith wanted to join him. So the two hung out a lot together, slowly creating a world away from everyone.

—

Lilith laid out on Levi’s bed. His arms reached out towards the roof, seemingly grasping the words to explain his thoughts. “You know,” He began. Levi sat in his chair in the corner of his room. Even though he seemed to be reading a book, Lilith knew Levi would listen to him. “I wish things were different. You understand, right?” A vague ‘hm’ came from the corner. Lilith sat up. He only ever did that when things got serious. “I don’t mean here.” A sigh. “I’m talking about like. Feelings and stuff.” This made Levi pause. Levi knew that he wasn’t the best with feelings or expressing things. But he also knew that Lilith understood that. He closed his book and waited. Clearly, Lilith had a lot to say about this, and the only thing Levi could do was wait and hear him out.

“I’m also not talking about struggling with feelings like you are. This is…” Hesitation. This was definitely a difficult subject for Lilith to talk about. He’d started biting his nails again. “More personal, in a way? I think.” He fell back down on the bed, still fidgeting. Levi slowly looked up.

This was so different from the usual Lilith. Lilith is often so full of energy that Levi could barely even keep up. This Lilith is trying to be calculated and calm, and it’s worrying Levi. “You should stop biting your nails.” A quiet response from Levi. A silent way that tells Lilith that he cares about him, and that he’s paying attention to him.

“Can you come here for a second? Just lay next to me. Please.” To many others this would’ve sounded like a simple request. But Levi picked up on the desperation that was hidden behind it. He slowly got up and walked up to Lilith, who was now curled up on his side. Levi joined him, laying, although stiffly, beside him. Levi wasn’t sure yet how to approach the situation, but he would stay and listen to anything Lilith had to say.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lilith's hand move. An invitation (request?) to hold his hand. He sat aside the discomfort he might feel with physical touch, and joined their fingers together. He’d do anything to comfort Lilith.

“I don’t want to say it this bluntly, but I can't figure out a better way.” Lilith had pulled up a pillow and was clutching it against his chest. “I don’t think I’m a guy.”

—

It wasn’t often that people would see Lilith cry. Lilith often had a way of life that would brighten up every room, conversation and face. The ways that Lilith broke that day, in front of Levi, showed the weight of this issue. Clearly this had been bothering Lilith for a long time now.

Lilith began explaining to Levi about all the things she’d wish to be different. And Levi listened. What else could he do? Lilith explained that she didn’t necessarily want her name to change. She’d grown up with this name and had so many memories with it, it was impossible to be complete without her name. But she did want people to refer to her differently. She wanted to be called pretty and cute and beautiful. She wanted to be a little sister.

Levi listened and understood. Levi helped her alter her clothes, helped her pick out new ones. Together with Levi, Lilith became who she wanted to be. And together with Levi, she explained it to everyone else. Thanks to Levi, she became her full self.

Things were glorious for a couple of centuries. Everyone lived and laughed, now being known as ‘The Seven Morningstars’, rather than 'The Seven Brothers'. Everything was perfect.

Until she fell.

—

Desperation broke out. How could Father do this? How could He break up their family, their comfort. How dare He take away their little sister. It was unfair.

They had to keep living.

Dark times turned darker upon their arrival in the Devildom, strangers in a new world. But with the darker times, aside from the anger still flaming within everyone, new forms of warmth began to rise as well.

Lilith’s replacement, set free by the anger she caused, came to them. Ofcourse, no one but himself saw Satan as Lilith’s counterpart, but that didn’t soothe his anger. He raged and rampaged wherever he could, but slowly gained comfort in the sister he never had. He finally settled with a piece of Lilith in his heart, allowing himself to release the anger she could never express.

Like before, they started being known as ‘The Seven Brothers’ again.

All the struggles they went through together made them that much closer, now only having each other to depend on. Bond’s grew again and strengthened, setting them up for their new life. A new life that is better than they could’ve ever imagined back in the Celestial Realm. A life with freedom. A life that Lilith gave hers for.

—

Levi had taken it hard. Her fall. Even though the relationships with his brothers improved, to levels never even achievable in the celestial realm, an important part of his life became irreplaceable. Someone to actually talk to, someone who got him, someone who was like him. He never got the guts to actually tell her. How he related to her. How he too, wished to change.

It caused a silent suffering.

Until you came. Even though things hadn’t been all that bad, he viewed you as his saviour. The one who brightened up his days again, gave him everything they could. But most importantly, someone who understood him. You made him better. Like his sister had before.

That’s when Levi started to question things again. You were able to give him his confidence back. When you were together, it felt like nothing could tear you apart. It was a mutual understanding between the both of you. It felt like Levi was back with Lilith again, but improved. Ofcourse, nothing could replace Lilith, not even you. But you gave him back his feelings, familiar yet somehow more intense. More worth the risk.

During the healing you were the cause of, Levi began to find their truth again. The truth that they had always already known, but often pushed back, was being indefinitely resurfaced by you. You reminded Levi of her. And now, finally comfortable, she could rise & remain.

Lilith was the one to tell Levi about this. Levi was never good with her own feelings, after all. If she hadn’t indirectly told Leviathan that being like this was okay, that things could change for the better, that life doesn’t have to be a struggle, Levi might’ve never even known. And now, it’s time for her to tell you.

—

She wasn’t as brave as her little sister. She couldn’t possibly tell you this straight to your face. Praise to the devildom and its better developed technology. A voice message it’ll be. A regular text message did feel a little too impersonal for something like this.

“Hey. uhm. Right.” A clear fumble with paper can be heard. The clearing of a throat. With a robotic voice, certainly reading a script that’s been spent hours on, Leviathan started. “I don’t know how to properly tell you this. It’s hard. But very. very. important. To me. I. I am not. who you think I am. But I want to be. And I know you want me to be myself as well. You have told me that plenty of times. And I am grateful for that. It is because of your continued persistence in being comfortable with myself that I bring you this. That I trust you with this. Because I don’t think I can continue being a guy.”

It was a sudden and unprompted message to you, with an even more abrupt ending. Upon finishing her script, Levi pressed the send button immediately and directly shut off her phone. She couldn’t bear the thoughts about your response, but knew she’d have to.

It hadn’t even been a minute when you knocked on her door. Within that time, you had listened to the message, sent her a streak of five different messages in response, and raced through the entire HOL to her room. It only took two unanswered knocks for you to barge into her space, where you hurried to her bed to find her already sobbing.

Her emotional state, and her body finally being engulfed in your arms, made her spill everything. About Lilith, and how she was the one that planted this idea in her head in the first place. How hard it had been without her. How regretful she is for never having been able to tell her little sister.

She told you about how much you mean to her, and how she kept thinking, no, knowing, you only loved the wrong version of her. You loved the version of her that kept wishing he was different, that forced himself to be someone he only partly was. You loved someone that was not her. And she told you about how hurt that made her feel.

But she also talked about how loved she felt by you. How despite the rude comments Levi made, both towards Levi’s self as to others, it never made you love Levi any less. She talked about how lovingly and calmly you always handled her meltdowns, how you asked permission for every touch, how you didn’t grow annoyed anytime her energy was too low. She talked about all the things she would miss if she lost you. Things only you could give her. Things that made her feel like she was worthy of love, things that made her believe being herself might be worth it. You make her believe suffering doesn’t have to be.

—

It was an emotional and extremely draining rant. Many tears were shed, from both sides. At the end, you had simply kissed her head. It was enough for Leviathan to feel at peace. The mentally taxing questions could come later. For now the two of you would cuddle and rewatch TSL. No need to talk. Now was the time to simply lay embraced and at rest, as the both of you slowly drifted off thanks to the comfortable atmosphere. It somehow felt an impossible amount more loving than usual.

—

It was amazing to see her flourish. Huge bits of her anxieties were visibly taken away as soon as she grew comfortable in her new out and proud identity. She smiled and laughed more, talked more enthusiastically in her higher trained voice, and was more excited for the mundane joys. Life was easier. Life was better. Alongside you, thanks to you, she grew into herself. Nothing else changed much. She kept being her otaku self, she kept sneering comments anytime her envy flared up, and she kept the same bond with each of her brothers like she always had. Loving in their own special way.

Although, admittedly, one sibling-relationship did change. Anytime she found joy in her womanhood, there was a little part in her that felt more love, more similarity for her sister. A connection that was evergrowing. Despite never being able to tell Lilith, Levi knew she had known. Lilith had always had her way with people like that. Levi knew that somewhere, Lilith was smiling down to her. The exact same way she had once she started living her full life as herself.

#transfems my love <3 #also levi's hella autistic <3 #anyway although Levi's gender is so magical that it'll remain a secret to me personally. I will always firmly believe that Lilith is a tran #btw titel is not to call either satan or lilith half a morningstar. it just feels weird to put either 7 or 8 because neither feel true to m #urgh #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #leviathan x reader #transfeminine fanfic #transgender #obey me fluff #obey me leviathan #obey me lilith #obey me sibling bonding #obey me comfort #sillyposting #my work

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wolfsbanesparks · 4 months

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something i always imagine pretty clearly for pretty little thing, is that the moment billy gets freed (w/ the bad guys caught) he would immediately make his way to all the previous victims and just mourn and cry for them before even thinking of mourning himself. i think he’d even mourn the victims who he barely (if at all) knew with all his broken, crushed up heart. i wonder how quickly that’d turn into anger, if it does. i don’t really have anything else to say, just wanted to share some of my thoughts on it

This is beautiful! Thank you for sharing!

I would definitely agree that Billy would mourn all the other victims, trying to make sure they are remembered despite everything. He'd want them to be remembered as people and not just a number of victims (especially those that he knew personally) It would be part survivor's guilt, but mostly just his love and genuine care for them. There would be anger of course--at who killed them, at the circumstances that led to their abduction, at the society that threw them away in the first place, and even at himself for not saving them--but that's just a part of his grief.

Thank you for this ask!

#ask me whatever you want y'all #shazam #billy batson #dc captain marvel #fanfic asks #grief and mourning #this hurts my heart #but it's so true #I love hearing for y'all!#it's always amazing to hear your thoughts

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maddy-ferguson · 7 months

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when people who like seasons 1 and 2 better explain why it was better they always lose me when they say "the characters were what mattered the most the supernatural plot was basically not that important it was ALL about the characters" like...that's just what YOU were more interested in not what was happening in the show? like wdym the supernatural plotline wasn't that important in seasons 1 and 2. saying that it was more balanced or more subtle i get but saying that the supernatural plot wasn't THAT important and that it's not what made anyone love the show is a blatant lie

#and like i say: brf slt #and i've seen people say this many times on many occasions i'm not even exaggerating. or making anything up #and i've been saying this for. a year and a half. minus two months. when volume 1 came out someone tweeted 'what the duffers fail to #understand is that no one watches st because they care about the russians or whatever. people watch st to see a ragtag group of kids be #nice to each other! to see a lesbian and a man with nice hair be friends!' and i said i agree with this at like 60% the 60% being ofc that #i hate the russia stuff we know this. but like. as much as i like the relationships between the characters if there's no life-threatening #things going on for more than a few dozen minutes...then i don't really care like that would be another show. (this has been a constant #i was not as into the show or the characters as i am now when i said that like volume 1 was my first time watching the show #since 2019. and it's a constant because it's still true) like that's literally what fanfic is for. or other shows.#and plenty of people watch stranger things for the russians or whatever i was actually surprised when people were ranking the subplots i #saw quite a lot of people put russia in their top 2 i was stunned. it was mostly older people older people meaning anyone who was 22 in #the past. i'm kidding but like idk people who were like 40+ and also guys? idk. like there's actually an audience for that my bad you guys #(not my bad i will always be a russia in st anti. because i hate it.)#my point is. no that was actually it. i just don't get it wdym people don't like the STORY plenty of people do. in the fandom especially i #totally get focusing more on the characters and being more interested in that i literally never talk about the supernatural plot and i #really like the characters yk and i understand when people say that they enjoyed the distribution between character things and supernatural #plot things in s1-2 more but saying that the supernatural stuff was like an afterthought and that no one actually cares or cared ever and #that it was never important is? like i get where they're coming from but also...no #and i get doing the 'if you don't take it as literally the monsters and supernatural plot things mean this and that for real life and for #the characters' i think it's very fun but like. if you don't like the genre and ignored it for the characters...?that's not really on them #i worded this like my joyce and bob post from july i hope you like it. the first sentence only #wait i actually didn't. just realized. false advertising sorry #saying this as someone who likes seasons 1 and 2 better too that goes without saying

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whereyabeenloca · 2 years

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Nancy crosses her arms over her chest as soon as she gets in the car, Steve beside her turning the engine on as they head out into town from Hopper’s cabin. Was it maybe a little bit of a bad idea to be alone with him only a handful of days after his big confession in the woods? Probably. But she was feeling claustrophobic and suffocated inside the small space, and things between her and Jonathan were growing more and more tense by the minute- especially after their big blowout when his friend spilled the beans about his college acceptance letter. Robin was just going to talk her ear off about it, the kids were shooting her sympathetic glances her way at every moment, and truly, genuinely, she just really wants to sit in a comfortable, if not slightly awkward, silence with Steve.

They’re going on a supply run- groceries, guns, and gadgets, in their preparation for the looming apocalypse. She watches the trees around them get less and less dense as they pull out towards the main road, and she leans forward to turn on the radio to curb some of the tension hanging between them.

“'Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting for

And if I have to crawl upon the floor-“

Nancy switches to another channel immediately.

“-a little bit closer

You're my kind of man

So big and so strong

Come a little bit closer-“

Click.

“When you love someone

It feels so right, so warm and true

I need to know if you feel it-“

She gives up on the idea entirely and turns it off, sinking back into her seat while she pretends to stare outside, at her chipping nail polish, anywhere but over at him. The hand he has on the steering wheel flexes, knuckles whitening before he relaxes the grip, and she can see out of her peripheral that he’s glancing over her way.

“Thought you liked the last one. At least, you did once,” he comments. A memory flashes to the forefront of her mind: the summer between her sophomore and junior year, when they’d been cruising the backroads of Hawkins together. Both of them singing the Foreigner song at the top of their lungs to each other, her holding an imaginary microphone and his stupid sunglasses balanced on the long slope of his nose. It makes her lips tug up on the edges when she remembers it, the tight hug she’s wrapped herself in loosening a little as her shoulders relax.

“No, you liked that one. I learned the lyrics after I saw it on one of your mixtapes,” the confession slips off her tongue before she can stop it and a flush rises to her fair skin, but she’s grinning out the windshield and sneaks a glance in his direction. Steve looks downright pleased with himself once he learns this, drumming his thumb against the car as they make a turn at the stop sign. With a resolved sigh, she turns the radio back on, but they just catch the tail end of the tune, and she can’t help but feel a little disappointed by it. Story of her life lately, it seems, as some Pat Benatar song plays next. There’s always some kind of interruption for them recently, and she’s torn between being grateful for it, and a little desperate to rip the bandaid off, to choke out the words that have been playing around in her brain for days.

“Four kids. And two dogs,” Nancy whispers in a voice so soft she prays he won’t catch it. But he is tuned into her, hanging on every word she will offer, and he slams on the brakes in the middle of the road, jolting them forward and then back, both of their arms coming out to brace the other automatically. They turn to look at each other, a little breathless and adrenaline making her feel dizzy without being disoriented. She blinks as they lower their hands, her initiating it first, as she folds her hands up in her lap to stare forward again while they remain unmoving. “I just- I figure six is a lot of college tuitions, you know? Four could be.. Doable. It would be a lot of work, but we could.. I don’t know. Sorry. Was this a bad time?” Nancy winces at herself, her smile turning sheepish.

“No!” Steve says it a little too quickly and scrubs his fingers back through his hair- a nervous tick before he presses down on the gas pedal again, moving the car at a snails pace like he wants to prolong every moment they will get alone. “No, that’s- it’s not a bad time at all.”

“I’m not promising anything right now,” she warns, reaching up to fix her curls behind her ears. “I just wanted to.. throw it out there. Test the waters on how you might feel about something like that. If your dream is set in stone, or…” Letting the words trail off, she props her elbow up on the car door to balance her chin in her palm, her brow scrunched together while she takes in the black smoke polluting the sky, making everything dark and ominous.

“It’s not set in stone at all, Nance. It’s a team project, not a solo mission. Not at all,” he murmurs as downtown Hawkins comes into view, the military in full swing guarding the remaining civilians left. They’ll have to put a pause on the conversation as they carefully approach the local grocer, but for now.. For now, there is a weight lifted off her heart, and for the first time in quite a while, Nancy and Steve let themselves hope.

#stancy #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #steve x nancy #steve/nancy #nancy x steve #nancy/steve #stancy fic #my writing #Stancy fanfic #Stancy drabble #hope you like this #otp: unambiguous sign of true love #otp:you’ve always been there

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cherry-pop-soda · 1 year

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MISS SCARLET AND THE DUKE 3.04 - Bloodline

#miss scarlet and the duke #msatd #UNHINGED COMMENTARY BELOW ->#okay so first of all i just had to gif this scene because i really almost cried watching it the first time #i feel like the collective Fandom Hivemind was so busy being annoyed that william was gone for two eps and annoyed at william for the #arabella debacle (which is understandable) that a lot of the really amazing details from this episode especially #this scene got overlooked a little #this whole show just makes really good commentary on feminism #it repeatedly makes and demonstrates the point that true feminism is supposed to uplift *everyone*#this scene being one of many cases in point #i could ramble on about that concept forever but i should make another post for that #also this is my first time trying my hand at making gifs with words involved so i hope they turned out alright !!!#i had to brighten and recolor this SO MUCH dude i love this show but it is. a bit shadowy sometimes #but anyways !!! here’s my little contribution to the fandom and i hope to make more in the future :D #i’m planning a fanfic as well but well. who knows how long that will take me to write lol #don’t look at me i always write SO MANY TAGS on my posts lmfao

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blackplaaague · 2 months

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Parents really know exactly what to say to make you feel bad about your body, your mental state, your diet, and your plans for the future (or lack thereof) ammiright?

#bp rambles #vent #casual vent #vent tw #personal stuff #parents #it's not my fault #they're doing their best #they just don't understand #and I know it sounds cliche to say but it's true. They don't #I had another nightmare where I was forced to come out #I was reminded once again that I'll always be someone else to them #it's not their fault #they're trying their hardest to love me #but they wound up with an autistic queerpunk fanfic author instead of a primadonna ballerina #and honestly?#That one's on me

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dafry · 7 months

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I originally made this drabble for fun and from pure impulse-

It's not much or that good or interesting probably but i liked the idea so i have decided i shall share it

Enjoy! :D

Simon walked up towards the nervous little girl and crouch down to be on her eye level.

"Hey there kiddo, I'm Simon. What's your name?" Simon said softly with a kind and patient smile.

Flora didn't know why, but she felt like she could trust simon at that moment and she didn't feel nervous anymore. "Flora."

Simon smiled. "Flora, that's a wonderful name! Do you wanna go somewhere Flora? It can't be that fun being cooped up in this place all day."

"Really? But professor..." Flora looked away conflicted.

"Don't worry about it! I'll talk to him later, besides I'll look after you! but for now, is there any place you want to go visit?" Simon place a comforting hand on Flora's shoulder.

"Really? I can go anywhere i want?" Flora said wishfully.

"Whatever your heart desire pumpkin!" Simon offered.

Flora beamed at Simon. Simon smile grew wider and yet there was a tinge of something else (sadness?), but as sudden as it appeared it disappears.

For the rest of that day Flora and Simon visited many places, mostly by walking and just doing a lot of sight seeing (because simon doesn't really have any money), but the pair had fun anyway.

Flora was estatic to be able to go out for once! She got to explore and enjoy it even more so with Simon's company.

Simon have given Flora his full undivided attention, they both had a really long meaningful and fun conversation, learning more about each other and almost instantly they form a bond.

Simon may have just met Flora, but he was willing to do anything for the little girl.

Speaking of doing that, seems like Simon will also be having a long serious conversation with that so called professor once he sees the man again.

But for now, Simon and Flora enjoyed the time they spent outside together.

Flora eyes shined with child like wonder and she smiled brighter the longer they went on. Simon feels just a little lighter knowing he made her day a little better.

#simon petrikov #flora reinhold #fionna and cake #adventure time #professor layton #MOVE ASIDE LAYTON FLORA FOUND A BETTER FATHER FIGURE NOW-#Lol no offense to layton but simon is best dad #like have you seen half the stuff this man did for marcy???#layton i love u but simon is so much more better at parenting #he's a true adoptive dad at heart and will always be you can try to pry this hc from my cold dead hands #based on the idea simon getting transported into PL world #still drawing those art it's still cooking so have this in the meantime #short fanfic #small drabble

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musical-chick-13 · 29 days

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The workshop thing wasn't great in that respect but it wasn't that bad either because it was so clear that people were jealous when they were being harsher than the professors, who did step in at points when it veered from critiquing stylistic choices into doing exactly what people who think tagging fics on that post is okay are doing. It didn't discourage me from writing but it did solidify my decision not to major in creative writing (this is probably also why I in particular was a target: it wasn't my major, it was a hobby, but I was as qualified as them and got as much praise as they did and even one time more than them on the very first exercise of my first workshop, which probably didn't sit right with them, but only fueled me further because I am nothing if not a creature of spite).

And that's the thing too: so many people can't grasp that there's a huge difference between "this isn't for me" and "this has a lot of issues". Which to preface, unless someone's asked you to beta for them keep your mouth shut. They're doing this for free. Exit out if there are too many errors or whatever (and errors isn't even exactly the word I want but I'm exhausted and didn't sleep enough last night). Not that those people SHOULD beta either even if they were asked, honestly, because they clearly do not have a grasp on what constructive criticism actually is or how it works. You don't need a workshop to learn that either, just basic human decency and Google.

But like anyways. In the workshops I read plenty of things I just Did Not Vibe With, but were objectively very, very good art and you could tell how much care the author put into them. Sometimes things just aren't for you and the author didn't poorly execute that concept, actually.

I ran into this a lot in Performance World, too, back when I was trying to get a singing/stage performing career off the ground. There are SO many threads of that part of my life I can relate to this discussion and it would take far too long to explain them all, but there VERY much was a culture of perfectionism. Jealousy and extreme competition were incredibly prevalent, lots of "stay in your box," lots of complaining if people didn't stay in their box. Even when we were learning (or doing community theatre just to stay in practice or build up a resume), the stakes always seemed astronomically high. Someone could do a passable or even genuinely good job; but if it wasn't good in the "right" way, then it was still seen as meaningless.

For courtesy's sake, I'm putting the rest of my thoughts under a cut, because. Well. This got long. As answers by me are wont to do.

There also was a lot of "pick a genre" and "this is the only MEANINGFUL type of music/art/etc." The opera crowd hated that I liked musicals and pop music because those styles were all "stupid" and "frivolous" and "simple" (which isn't. even true, no art form is a monolith, and what those words mean is going to be different for every person, but, you know). Everyone else hated that I sang opera because it was a "pretentious art form" and "boring" and "sexist/racist/etc." (Those first two are incredibly subjective, and plenty of modern opera works exist that seeks to not uphold those forms of prejudice.) There was "if you look like [x], then you can't do [y performance type]." "If your voice sounds like this, then you can't EVER pursue ANY roles outside of this small pool of stuff because you need to know your place; if you don't, people will think you're making Bad Art." And then you, at best, get shamed, and, at worst, can't make a living.

All of this, of course, was a matter of opinion. Most of it, like you said, boiled down to the fact that people were doing things that weren't, actually, bad or untalented or ineffective--they just didn't work for people. They didn't meet some arbitrary, subjective standard that had no real, concrete, actual meaning. But when people with any degree of power start taking their artistic opinions as immovable fact, we end up with...well, we end up with the current theatre climate, and we end up with whatever is happening in fandom communities right now. (Because just as there are some people who, for insisting on a lack of constructive criticism, should not be beta readers, there are some who should not be educators or directors.)

There were a lot of reasons that I eventually stopped performing publicly/on stage. But a big part of it was that I just didn't want to deal with that culture anymore. When I made the decision to walk away, I had gotten to the point where I'd started to hate singing. My primary form of expression, of catharsis, of solace, since I was eight or nine years old. And luckily, withdrawing from a professional pursuit of art has helped me get some of that back. But I see those same issues--that same negativity, that same judgment--starting to pop up in something that isn't even meant to be for money or a career or anything other than personal expression. I see so many people getting discouraged, starting to lose the love they had for that expression. My love of art was almost taken away from me, to the point where for a very long time I couldn't even do it for fun, alone, in the private comfort of my house. And if I can do anything to prevent that from happening to someone else, I sure as hell will.

I'm glad that you were still able to get some good out of that workshop, because that's not always easy to do when the people around you are acting like that. (And kudos to realizing that you didn't want to do this as a major/career, that's not always easy to do either.) And I know I've talked more about professional art, but this is so prevalent in the way people talk about community theatre, too. Being upset that a student production doesn't have Super Stellar Voices/Acting, ragging on amateur singers just for posting a karaoke video on their personal Facebook page, expecting Met-opera-level singing quality or Shakespeare-scholar levels of acting text analysis from a group of volunteers who are spending their precious few after-work hours to put on a musical, just because they want to share that story with people. I've seen lots of comments that it's not meaningful because it's "bad." When. I've done a lot of community theatre. Plenty of it is not bad, actually. If you hate it that much, you don't have to attend a production. (Just like how. if you hate a fic. you can hit the back button.) And even if it is "bad." It's still going to be meaningful to someone. Even in a "bad" production, at least ONE of the actors or crew members will have a good time helping create it. And at least ONE audience member is going to have a good time; whether that be because they simply love theatre, someone they love is involved with the production, or because they don't care about an arbitrary "quality" measurement. And I absolutely think the same thing is true of writing, and of fanfiction especially.

If, for example, someone goes to karaoke and screams "I Dreamed A Dream" from Les Mis extremely off-key and grating, because they're experiencing a shitty situation and just need some catharsis? I don't have the right to rag on them for that, I would be an asshole. If someone posts a cover for fun on YouTube of...I don't know, "Take On Me" and can't hit the high notes, but wants to pay tribute to a song they love, who the fuck would I be to take that away from them? So if someone writes a "silly" or "stupid" or oh-God-forbid "cringe" piece of fanfiction (which. AGAIN. do not have any concrete meaning because those are SUBJECTIVE TERMS) to get some feelings out or to talk about how much they love a fictional character. Well, I think if you call them names over that and try to publicly shame or harass them, then, quite frankly, you are engaging in pointless, cruel, and braincell-less behavior. And you can stay 10,000 feet away from me.

#mc13 lore #oh my god this is so long I'm so sorry #multi t(ASK)ing #amateur art #fanfiction #taking my life in my own hands by putting this in something other than just my ask tag but so be it #there have been a lot of productions I've seen or been in--both professional and not--where I thought the overall vision didn't #translate very well or I didn't enjoy it or I thought that the artistic choices people made didn't successfully do what it seemed like #they were trying to do. but you know what? I've never seen a production. not even of HEATHERS the show (which is my absolute #least favorite thing in the world). where there was not even ONE good moment. there was always someone whose voice I liked. or a line #delivery that I thought was executed well. or a joke I thought was funny or a passage that I thought was raw/emotionally resonant.#and I think you can tell where I'm going with this but: yes this is true of fanfic too.

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dracocheesecake · 1 year

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Sneak Peak At Some WIP KFP Drabbles:

1) Innocent (Kai & Daiyu)

He looked innocent.

Not always, of course- no one in their right mind would have even thought to refer to him in such a way, especially if they knew all of his titles and deeds: one couldn't think 'innocent' was an adjective complementary with someone called The Maker of Widows, or Master of Pain. Words had meaning, after all, and titles were earned.

His appearance wasn't innocent, either. Eyes glowing green with stolen life, evil seeming to radiate from his powerful form like the aura of light around the sun. Even his smile was wicked, as crooked as his moral compass-if he even had one.

And yet, although Daiyu knew this, she couldn't help but think that he looked innocent- now, at least. He had his head resting on her lap, at an angle so the side horns wouldn't poke her. The evil eyes were closed, the furrowed brow now having relinquished its usual tension. Even the aura had dimmed.

There was something there, just under his skin, something that might show if she only scratched. Her claws flexed, but she held the tips mindfully away from his face. He wasn't aware of the danger; he assumed (too readily, she thought) that she was innocent.

And perhaps he was right. Daiyu didn't really think that she could hurt him, even if his greed finally overpowered whatever few scruples he had left, and he decided that he wanted her qi after all. Then she'd be helpless- if only because of her own convictions holding her back.

2) Parents: (Kai & Daiyu)

Kai paused in sharpening his blade. There was a short silence, full of tension, and then he sighed.

"...He was a good man," he said, "leave it at that."

"There must be more." She said. Kai grunted and relented.

"He was a passive, pacifist weakling," Kai growled through his grinding teeth, "who wanted me to be as spineless as him- who expected me to kowtow to every single person who spat insults or threats for the sake of keeping the peace."

He scoffed and gripped the handle of one of his blades so hard Daiyu almost feared that it would crack; but Kai valued his weapons too much to be so careless. His grip loosened, and the anger with it, though the tension remained. He sighed.

"...For all his wisdom, he really only understood books, and not people- at least, not nearly as well as he thought he did."

3) Soft (Li Shan & Mr. Ping)

Everything about him was soft. From his fur to the way he smiled, everything about him was soft. Even the faint lines of grief that surrounded his eyes were muted, and the years of mourning had not been enough to destroy his kindness.

And everyone loved Li Shan for it. It wasn’t hard to see why: he gave off warmth like a hearth, and his generosity and patience was unstinting. He took care of everyone around him- the type to give you the shirt off his back, if you only asked for it.

Now Mr. Ping knew where Po had gotten it from.

4) Some Don't Heal (Kai & Oogway)

"Why is that Oogway? Why am I still alive? Why is the universe playing this cruel joke on me?"

He spread his arms as if to gesture to the bright, verdant landscape all about them, the beauty and tranquility of the place itself almost a mockery of what the two had been through only just outside the protection of the mountains.

"Why did everyone else die- even you, almost- while I got out completely unscathed?"

It was an exaggeration, Oogway knew- he saw a large burn scar on the back of Kai's shoulder, and there were a few places where stray arrows may have struck him; there also was a wound on his leg, on the side of his left knee, that Oogway had had to sew up again many times over due to Kai's nighttime pacing. Still, Oogway didn't respond; he just hadn't the words to explain- and how could he? Kai leaned in.

"Why is that, Oogway?" He said again.

5) Spider's Webbing (Kai & Zhizhu)

The spider blinked all four of his eyes. "You…don't know where you are?" He said.

Kai squinted at him. It was really dim in here, and the only light source seemed to come from that strange myriad of eyes. "Should I?"

The spider looked away and fell into silence. One of his smaller legs came up, a claw tapping thoughtfully under his jaw. "No," he said softly after a moment, "I suppose you shouldn't."

He glanced at him again, and there was a slight glint in his eyes, like light reflecting off the blade of a knife, sharp and full of dangerous potential.

"How did you get here, may I ask?"

Kai raised his brows at him and shrugged. "I was just walking along, enjoying the sights, and next thing I know, I'm suddenly falling down a pit, only to get caught in something sticky."

Here he raised one of his arms to reveal that some strands of web were still clinging to his fur- there were also a few patches of bare skin, telling of a very painful method of disentangling himself from the trap. Zhizhu drew in a sharp breath almost involuntarily in sympathy- and he hoped it would be the first and last time he did so.

Kai shrugged. "Now I'm here." He lowered his arm, but then the strands got stuck to his side and pants leg. The bull grunted in anger and pulled at it, and Zhizhu could see where it pulled his fur- and most likely the skin under it- with it. He winced and reached forward.

"Uh…Here, please let me help with that."

The bull turned his glare on him, his voice sharp and accusatory: "This is yours?"

Zhizhu paused, if only because of how sudden the anger was. Kai snorted.

"Stupid question," he grumbled, "I know…Sure, get this stuff off of me."

6) Aftermath (Oogway)

It was over- the battle was over, and now the aftermath of it had begun. Oogway stood where he had landed, staring at the empty space where Kai had once been. There was no blood, no body, no victory, save in the sense that the goal he had started out with had been accomplished; but he had not won. Far from it.

He didn’t think about that, though. It was too soon for the full ramifications of his actions to hit him with their weight- a weight that he could not yet bear; not now. There was still the absence to process, the bitterness of the pyrrhic victory to overcome. Kai was gone. He could see that, and now he was beginning to understand it. The finger hold move had worked. Kai had been defeated before he could do any more harm.

The pandas as well as the sanctity of chi was saved. Oogway took in a shuddering breath and leaned his staff on his shoulder. He cast one last look at the empty space before him, then turned quickly on his heel. The air here had begun to become tense and heavy, like the atmosphere before a storm set in.

He walked back to the village, keeping his gaze straight ahead, his mind empty- but the tension followed him, growing heavier and heavier on his shell. He still didn’t think- at least, not consciously. But that storm was bearing down on him, building up power and speed the more he tried to resist it…and then it struck.

Oogway stopped suddenly. His legs shook, and then he realized that he was very tired, and not just because of the exertion the fight had put him through. Of his own compunction he fell to his knees onto the soft earth, and at the same time a realization -one he had been trying to hold off- finally dawned.

He's dead. Kai is dead. I killed him.

Tears were running down his face. He tried to breathe, tried to swallow the lump that choked him, but he couldn't. His mind as well as his body were outside of his control.

He needed help, he was suffering. He was suffering so much that he lost himself…and I killed him. He needed my help, and I killed him. It's my fault he ended up this way.

And now he was gone forever. Oogway remembered the way Kai had looked at him that final time, with those horrid demonic eyes, eyes not his own-

But they were his eyes, underneath the green veneer they were still his eyes- full of hurt, confusion, his mouth moving, trying to form words- what was he trying to say? No one will ever know, now. I didn't even give him the chance to say his last words.

And that thought made Oogway want to crawl into his shell and never emerge again. He covered a sob with his hands, but didn't dare close his eyes for fear that the image of Kai's face would come back to haunt him. With a desperation driven by grief he fixed his gaze on the grass and tried to focus on the physical sensations of the present moment.

But he couldn’t. No matter what he did, he couldn’t stop his mind from forcing him to relive the fight again and again.

7) Do The Dead Still Feel? (Daiyu)

And there was still a taste of metal on her breath, lingering on the tines of her tongue. She no longer hungered for air, but she found her chest heaving anyway, some compression on these copies of her lungs that obediently pumped for a body that no longer needed it- save for somewhere in the left side of the yawning cavity of her chest, there was a slight sagging sensation, a delay that would have been painful if she still had the nerves to feel it.

Daiyu's right hand reached up, almost without her conscious will, claws tracing along a thin, precise scar between two of her ribs, just under the cloth. Her breath- (her breath, her breath, horrible, unneeded breathing)- hitched, and her claws curled inward harmlessly towards her palm. Tears- these, also unneeded, but actually wanted this time- rolled down her face.

Again that ice cold realization took over her body, drenching it in numbness; it shouldn't have been a realization, she'd known this for so long by now, long enough for the shock to have settled, but for whatever reason it never did stick.

She was dead. She was dead. She was dead, dead, dead.

Why did it still hurt?

Her eyes shifted over towards Kai, the mountainous shadow of his body only just in front of her, and she considered asking him if he ever felt the same. She would have, the question was on the tip of her tongue…but she never did ask. Perhaps she was afraid of the answer.

She prayed to Guan Yin that he didn't feel the same.

#kung fu panda #kfp 3 #general kai #kai #kfp oc #drabbles #fanfic #my writing #wips #li shan #mr ping #young oogway #general oogway #master oogway #daiyu the true night warrior #angst and fluff #no in between #comments are always appreciated!#ft. mention of Bingwen

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