#their worlds are falling down around them but no it's morally wrong to want to avoid the news on social media | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cytser · 7 months

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i'm annoyed so you get a rin vent on a platform that doesn't have my face directly attached

i've seen so many posts both on twitter and tumblr recently guilting people for not posting about current events, and acting as if you're morally/ethically at fault if you're not actively posting about it. and i'm sorry, but are you hearing yourselves?

obviously, what is happening is extremely disturbing. there aren't words to describe the level of horror, so i'm not going to try to find them. i should think this goes without saying, but i'm going to say it just so we're clear that my post isn't coming from the angle of 'but who cares about what's happening?'

but you have absolutely no idea how people are impacted by what's happening. you have no idea what personal connection people may have. you have no idea the impact it may be having on their mental states, and when you act so dismissive and act like 'this is negatively impacting my mental health' is a privileged take, you show what you really think about mental health.

there are so many reasons why people may not feel able to talk about it! people may not be able to understand what's happening. people may have grown up in warzones. people may have delusions, obsessions, flashbacks, suicidal ideation triggered that they do not have a healthy way of managing.

and from a practical standpoint, what is the point in expecting everyone to burn themselves out? when people are burnt out, they lack an ability to critically examine what they're reading. with the amount of propaganda and mis/disinformation, it is extremely important right now for people to be taking time and care to consider what they're reading. insisting that people shout while burnt out just means that mis/disinformation is going to rule. who does that help?

'you're privileged to not be under threat of death!!' well, for a start you don't know everyone's personal situations. but beyond that, you guys know it isn't morally wrong to use one's privilege, right?

when this all started, it triggered my ocd so badly that for days straight i was compulsively checking the news and making myself more and more afraid and distressed. every person who i told, including my literal actual therapist, suggested i stop. so i did! and now i take my news from trusted friends (and a few select other reliable sources) and am trying very hard not to fall into another ocd spiral because with other things going on in my life as well i'm genuinely unsure if i'd survive

i'm glad if you've never reached a level of mental distress where you're concerned for your ability to keep yourself safe, but this is the reality that a lot of people are dealing with, and those people are also the one's most likely to think they're morally failing if they refuse to share every post they see

if you do have the energy to keep posting things, then obviously i encourage you to. but i also encourage you to be critical about what you share, to make sure you understand the history, to understand that everyone is spreading propaganda, and to seriously consider the bias held by the people who's voices you're sharing.

first- and second-person accounts are typically you're best bet, along with people who's jobs revolve around this (activists, journalists, politicians but be fucking careful there), as you can generally assume they know the history - but still be careful, make yourself aware of red flags, read the replies if you're worried because odds are someone will be providing more context there. sharing propaganda is not helpful, it just makes it harder for you to understand what's happening and how to help

part of why this is so difficult to talk about is because the levels of performative activism and just straight-up horrific things i've been seeing on my social media is way more than i've seen during other conflicts. it is very dificult to engage with without a good knowledge, and most people who are engaging do not have a good knowledge

i've had to unfollow so many people over the past couple of weeks because they've clearly been so poisoned from propaganda. it seems a lot of people care more about looking like 'good activists' than they do about actually being good activists

#.txt #it's also really frustrating knowing people who ARE personally impacted #nobody seems to care about them #their worlds are falling down around them but no it's morally wrong to want to avoid the news on social media #they can't avoid it in real life and we're not going to let them avoid it online either!#that's definitely good activism that is helping everyone!

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bunnie-online · 7 months

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Sooo since this is a safe space I’ve got a certain Hayden request… 👀 what about you surprising your boyfriend Sam Monroe with your new nipple piercings?? except they’re sensitive & you need some soothing?!? I’m already screaming 🥲😭

ooooh this is good- thIS IS GOOOOD sam would be SO down for that

warnings: afab! reader, tit-sucking, established relationship, collegeAU! sam, slightly subby!sam

it was friday evening, all of your classes are finished for the week, your friends asked you to hang out with them for a while, one of them was going to get a tattoo and needed moral support, and what better moral support than going along and getting a piercing you've always wanted!

you and your friends head out to dinner and then go on your merry way to the tattoo shop. the whole time you're exchanging texts with your boyfriend, Sam. gently teasing him about the surprise you have waiting for him. your banter back and forth with your very eager boyfriend has made you, for lack of better words, excited.

after holding your friends hand and experiencing a world full of pain yourself, you part ways with your friends and make your way back to your shared apartment. Sam basically tackled you as soon as you stepped foot through the door. "ah! god, Sam!" you wince in pain. He jumps back. "Baby? what's wrong?" he asks, now extremely concerned.

"well~" you say in a sing-song voice. "remember my surprise?" you take his hand in yours. he nods enthusiastically, almost like an excited puppy. you guide his hand to your waist first, slowly tracing it up to your chest. you can see him gulp, his adam's apple bobbing heavily. "mhm." he almost whimpers.

you continue to guide his hand, bringing it up to the hem of your loose cropped sweater, you have to manually wrap his fingers around it, poor thing is too drunk off his own horniness to function properly at this point. you tell him to pull up, your voice snapping him out of his daze.

"uhm o-kay" his voice cracks, his eyes are blown wide. Sam keeps eye contact with you while lifting your sweater tantalizingly slowly. "you can look, Sam." you laugh, your free hand finding its way to his hair.

when he finally lifts your sweater, revealing your 'surprise', you were convinced if his eyes widened any further, they'd fall out of his head. "y-you got yo- you got- nip- you- wow. holy shit." he stammers. he reaches out to touch them, only for you to flinch away in pain again. "sorry, baby!" he apologizes quickly, his eyes never leaving your tits.

"you know how you could ease some sensitivity, Sam?" you coo at him and his eyes finally snap to yours. "h-how? i'll do anything to make you feel better. anything." his eyes are innocent, but the thoughts behind them are most definitely not.

"how about you put them in you-" you couldn't even finish your sentence before his head dipped down and he took one of your sore, swollen nipples into your mouth. you arch your back into him and he wraps on of his hands around you waist, and one on your other breast. you tangle your hands in his blue streaked hair. "ah! Sam, i-i didn't even get to finish speaking" your voice light and airy as you moan and gasp between words.

"wanna make you feel better." he whines. he then wraps his arms around your thighs, lifting you up and taking you into the living room. Sam placed you down gently on the couch, laying you down. "gonna make my girl feel better. gonna be a good boy."

~~~~~~~~~

OOOOOOOOO needy Sam bro i'm GONEEEE

~bunnie

#bunnie online!#bunnie? online~!#bunnie after dark #sam asks !!#sam monroe smut #sam monroe x reader #sam monre #hayden christensen x reader smut #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen #smut writing #smut blog #search bar !!#incognito mode !!

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tainted-liquor · 8 months

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'Hot Wheels! ...🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ft. 1610Miles

...⋆｡° ✮

Ingredients: sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of lemon zest!

TWs: A lil suggestive, but nth serious? Miles js runs a hot wheels car across yo ass like a ramp😭

A/N: Inspired by my man lol

It was dark outside. Wayyy too dark, the kind of dark where your main priority would be to go straight home, regardless of what temptations of bright colors pushed themselves into your face. But right now, you were In Miles' house while his parents were out on their little 15-year anniversary date. You spent the whole day dancing in his room, trying on some of his shorts for the sheer fun of it, and watching TV together so close that it would've sent Mrs. Morales into a coma. It was around 9 o'clock, and the two lovebirds still weren't back from their date.

So, you decided to do something to pass the time. You hopped on on the plushy material of the Morales' couch, doodling in Miles' sketchbook while you waited for him to finish taking his shower. Did you nearly lose your shit when you saw his many many Gwen drawings? Yeah. But you were instantly relieved to see most of them crossed out, painted over, or replaced with drawings of you entirely.

You scribbled down a rough sketch of Miles, groaning in frustration when it didn't turn out how you imagined. He looked French instead of Puerto Rican, and everything decided it wanted to go wrong. You put down the pencil, letting it fall between the concave of its pages before scrolling on your phone. It wasn't very long until Miles emerged from the bathroom, internally panicking as his toned muscles stared at your from his short-sleeved white tee. "Eugh, you stink. Get back in the shower" You joked, sporting a wicked grin and a quiet laugh.

He side-eyed you, looking you up and down before sucking his teeth. "I will throw you off that couch, don't play with me" he chuckled, shifting closer so you could see the tiny blue box in his right hand. "Oooh, what's that?" You asked, turning your head as he loomed over you. He opened the box, revealing 3 toy cars stacked on each other. "My cars!" He beamed, flopping comfortably on the living room floor as he took out every toy car oh so gently. "Cars? Like, Hot Wheels cars?" You inquired, watching as he pretended to rev up the engine.

It was no surprise that he owned toy cars, you had already seen his massive collection of rare toys and posters around his room. You thought it was cute, silently admiring as he explained why he even has the cars, and breaking down their value. "I mean, I can put them away if you want?" He asked, sounding slightly more embarrassed by the second. "Oh, no no no! I love that you have interests!" You reassured. You watched him stay in his own little world, before continuing to scroll on your phone.

It wasn't long before Miles looked back up at you, suddenly brewing an idea. He slowed his actions, analyzing your posture and looking down at his cars. He fought back a smirk that crept on his face, slowly advancing towards you like he was trying to see what you were looking at on your phone. You didn't really notice he was getting closer, finding yourself lost in the world of TikTok as you watched a guy dance to Kung Fu Fighting. And you didn't notice until you felt cold metal hit the fabric of your shorts.

"AH-! FUCK-MILES WH-..." You began, turning around to see Miles using the curve of your spine and the silhouette of your behind as a ramp. Miles burst out in laughter, shivering as he ran each car across your backside. "Are you fuckin' serious right now?" You deadpanned. He nodded, a smug but clearly overjoyed grin plastered on his face. "What? It's-...pffFFHAHAA...It's the perfect ramp!"

"Make me smack you miles"

Taglist: @ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @Fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @milesnanana77 @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x

taglist form <3 https://forms.gle/iZbuc8PAAo5k5xXG6

#atsv #across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #e1610 Miles x BlackFem!Reader #e1610 miles #I luv Miles Morales #T Loves Miles!

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konigsblog · 4 months

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I know that this varies upon different variations of König, but what do you think in general sparked his darker and obsessive tendencies, especially that of Kidnapper! König. Do you think he’s always had a normal approach to relationships and love, albeit some of his creepier tendencies were still there, but meeting reader just ignited something in him? Maybe he’s always had the urge to kidnap his past crushes and keep them to himself, but he still had his morals at that time, and once it got to the time that he met the reader, his morals have gotten so broken at this point that there’s nothing holding him back from acting on his impulses now. Or do you think this was always a common thing in his past relationships, but he’s always failed to keep them and has only managed to ‘perfect’ his methods by the time he meets the reader. Maybe he falls in love a little too easily (aka towards any person who shows a sliver of kindness towards him.) or the reader was the first person he’s felt that way towards and didn’t want to lose them because of that.

cw: kidnapper-könig, kidnapping.

considering könig's past, and what we know about his childhood, i think it's a mix of loneliness and the fear of never finding true love, or forever staying alone, in a world full of isolation and judgement. he desires you, you're his addiction. he dreams of you whenever he can, but he fears you may not feel the same as him.

during his teenage years (16-17), being bullied consistently for his whole childhood really changed and corrupted his morals and beliefs. he became aggressive, more likely to retort back, to throw punches and knock a few teeth out of place at the sound of judgement and harassment.

könig doesn't know how to properly love someone, he's never found love, never experienced it, before you entered his fucked up life. when he found you, he couldn't help the addiction, how you'd plague his mind 24/7, fantasizing of your future. this is why i think he's slightly delusional, believing there's nothing wrong with "protecting" his lover, that it should be moral for a man to take the one he loves the most; to cherish them.

he'd always had creepy, stalkerish tendencies; he'd stalk his crush growing up, feeling emotionless and numb when they found love, that wasn't him. he moved on though, continued with life, ‘til he saw a little barista at the coffee shop, fresh to this new job. he couldn't help himself from taking you as you were so vulnerable and naive to walk around, so pretty, so weak; someone who needed protection, don't you realise how dangerous the world is, little one?

könig will take his beloved to protect them, but also out of fear he'd never find love. he's experienced heartbreak before, he's traumatised as his first love didn't appreciate all the creepy gifts and terrifying notes, he couldn't imagine a world full of isolation, watching you find a boyfriend that isn't him, leaving him, once again, heartbroken. i believe könig will tell you it's to protect you, as the world is so dangerous, you need at a threatening, creepy, vindictive and manipulative 6’10” freak to love on you, to ensure of your safety, to get back on those who've wronged him.

könig hates keeping you locked away in the cellar/dungeon down in the basement, rope binding your limbs. you have to understand it's for your own safety, that he'll love and dote on you, coddling you when your mind has finally been warped to fit his ideal standards; obedient and respectful to your kidnapper.

#orla speaks #könig x you #könig x reader #könig x y/n #konig x you #konig x reader #konig x y/n #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig #könig call of duty #i love könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig #könig fanfiction #tw kidnapping

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crxss01 · 11 months

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— Rosa Pastel (2)

pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ 42!miles morales x reader

summary ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ after four months of having broken up with miles an event leads you right back into his arms.

warnings ✧˖ ° gaslighting, manipulation, toxic relationship, threatening, unwanted flirting, miles is a major red flag, violence, mentioned murder, stalking.

m. list, main m. list.

translations ✧࿓☾ princesa: princess, mi angelito: my little angel, bonito: handsome/pretty boy, los mataré, entiendes?: i'll kill them, understand?

a/n . . ◟੭ here’s part one! heyy, loves! i’m sorry for the long wait, i have been busy writing other fics and with real life things!

four months.

it has been four months since you left miles and you couldn't feel anymore miserable, your entire world had revolved around him and it was like it stopped the motion the moment you broke up with him.

he hadn't tried anything to approach you or even contact you, part of it made you mad but the other part was relieved because you didn't know what you would do if miles tried to explain himself again while you were still vulnerable.

you have tried to go on multiple dates since then, but they turned out really badly since either the person was the rudest one you have ever met or stood you up. you were tired of that, what was wrong with this people? asking someone on a date just to treat them like shit, then never trying to speak with you again or not show at all.

now you were getting ready for a party, almost done with your look. you had spent most of the time stressing out on what to wear because you wanted attention but not that much attention so you had to figure out something fast.

after deciding which dress to wear you did your makeup and hair, before putting on some short heeled stilettos to finish off the look. you sighed looking at the mirror, maybe today you could forget about him for a while and focus on having fun for once.

grabbing your purse and double checking that everything you needed was inside of it, you left your house. breathing in the fresh air, you started walking to the convenience store, wanting to buy something before calling an uber.

however your plans changed when you noticed a group of men standing there drinking, smoking and looking crazy. you turned, deciding to just make your way back home and call the uber. the streets were dangerous ever since captain morales died and you didn't want to fall victim to any of this men.

"hey, sweetheart! where you going?" one of them noticed you and called out.

you cursed under your breath, squeezing your eyes together and walking faster.

"now, why are you walking so fast? huh?" the same one that had talked before had ran towards you and caught your arm in his grasp.

"please, leave me alone." now you were scared.

"and why would i do that?" he eyed you from head to toe. "aren't you a doll, wanna go back to my place?"

it sounded like a question but you knew that it wasn't. "listen, i just wanna go home."

"i can go home with you too." he laughed and the others, who you didn't notice had gotten closer, started laughing too.

five grown men surrounding you. this night couldn't get any worse. the one holding you took out a pocket knife and ran it across your face.

"let go of me!" you said, trying to keep it together and not show any fear.

"i don't think so." the man shook his head with a sick grin on his face, lifting the knife from your face and shaking it as well. "now—"

there was a loud slashing sound and suddenly the man was on the floor, blood pooling around him, four deep slashes across his back.

you knew who it was from and you didn't hesitate to run, it was hard on heels but you made it home, locking the door behind you and putting a hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs.

miles had just killed someone. right in front of you, he just killed him. you slid down the door, your hand still covering your mouth as tears fell down from your eyes.

"don't cry, mami." the voice scared you but you had no energy to jump at the sound or to start yelling at him for what he did. "that man ain't worth it."

"just leave me alone, please..." you managed to say.

"what if someone tries to break in?" miles asked, kneeling in front of you. "what if you get harassed again? won't you want me there for you? to protect you?"

you finally looked over at him, a claw was laying beside him, covered in blood and his suit had some fresh blood on it.

"you killed them all?" you asked.

"of course i did," he nodded with a sweet smile, making him appear so innocent. "one laid his hands on you while the others just watched. they all deserved what they got."

"you killed them."

"yes, and i would do it again to protect you."

"miles, you killed." you took a shaky breath. "because of me."

"no, princesa." he shook his head. "i killed for you. there is a difference."

"what difference?" you asked angrily. "it's all the same. for me, because of me. it's my fault they died."

"no, it's their fault for messing with what's mine." miles corrected. "i was just protecting you, princesa. if i had let them live they could have attacked you again or another person."

you thought about this, he was right. "they could've attacked another person." you repeated and nodded. "you're right."

"of course, i'm right." miles smirked, knowing that he was breaking through. "i always make sure you're okay, even checking in on the guys you set up your little dates with."

"what?" you asked confused.

"well, some of them weren't nice to my princesa so i had to take care of that. and others didn't deserve a date with you." he shrugged.

"but you only did that to protect me, right?"

"of course, mi angelito." he nodded.

"everything that you have done was for that too?"

"yes," miles nodded, encouraging your thoughts of you needing him. "so will you take me back?"

"yeah," you nodded, wiping your tear stained cheeks with a smile.

"good," miles nodded and grabbed your chin with the same hand he used to kill, pulling you in to leave a peck on your lips. "you are never going to leave me again, understand?"

you nodded.

"i asked if you understand?" he said more forcefully.

"yes, bonito." you answered verbally this time.

miles smirked. "good."

he pulled you back in for a real kiss this time, his mouth coming in contact with yours into a blissful kiss. his tongue pushed its way inside your mouth, fighting yours and winning, exploring every inch of the place he missed so much.

"don't ever think about going out with other men again." miles said between kisses. "los mataré, entiendes?"

"yes." you nodded and pulled him back in to kiss him.

you just missed him so much. why were you so stupid to leave him in the first place? all he wanted was to protect you.

taglist: @anikaluv @janaeby @queerponcho @laylasbunbunny @onginlove @all444miles @banqnaz @yourlocalstranger123 @weirdomcu @ilovemiguelohara28 @tlatziuh @edgyficuselastica @hoseokslefteyebrow (i added the people who were interested in a part two)

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x reader #42 miles morales #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales #prowler miles x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales x you #42 miles morales x reader #atsv #atsv miles #miles morales #miles morales prowler

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chrollohearttags · 4 months

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LUST • KYOJURO RENGOKU | the seven slutty sins series • part three

you’re his one and only vice..

perv!rengoku, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, phone sex, cum licking/finger sucking, roleplay, infidelity

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ── ･｡ﾟ☆:

it was embarrassing..truly.

an absolute shame even....but honestly, he couldn’t help himself..he couldn’t help but to run the tip of his finger along the side of his shaft, up to his aching tip that seeped with precum. He couldn’t help but to shudder when he watched you through the window of your home..the one you left open just enough for him to peek through late at night. It was all but inevitable when you stripped down in front of him, peeling layer upon layer off of your body..letting it hit the floor as your beautiful skin because exposed to the cool air. Those supple breasts, plump thighs and perfectly round ass that jiggled with each step. It wasn’t fair..not even a little bit! It wasn’t fair that he was stuck stroking his cock from the sidelines, seeping precum like some hormonal virgin and attempting to stifle his whimpers, instead of being able to pound you from behind as you stood on your tiptoes. Rather than this clenching fist, it should’ve been that tight pussy wrapped around him..squeezing and clamping down as you cried out his name. He was a feign for you, an addict even..he just couldn’t help himself! Kyo was a well kept man who seemed innocuous enough to the rest of the world but behind closed doors..he harbored a dirty little secret. He was an addict! He craved physical contact all the time and when he couldn’t get it, he allowed his imagination to run wild. He got creative..even now, as he watched you through the window, completely undressed..sprawl out on your bed. Legs parted to each side as your fingers glided down your slit. Those pretty brown lips parted to reveal a bright pink center. You were like that of forbidden fruit..tantalizing, sweet yet unattainable. He wanted you desperately, craved you beyond comprehension but all he could do was continue pumping..stroking himself as he watched you join in on the fun. Gliding your tongue across your lips and eventually propping a finger or two inside of your mouth to lubricate them. Tasting the remnants of yourself on the pads. “Fuck..I bet you taste so good, baby..” he knew you saw him. He knew that you were his one object of desire right now so you decided to give him a show. To keep his eyes fixated on you. “Go slow, beautiful..play with it, just like that..” Groping your own tits and pinching the nipples, you’d plunge those digits knuckle deep and whimper his name. Pounding into yourself, wishing it were him. Bucking those hips to meet the thrusts as you imagined it was that big dick of his stretching you out. “I want to stretch you open, (y/n)..wanna make you feel so good, baby..” This was wrong in so many ways…a sin of the utmost caliber but you both loved it! Loved the rush that came along with doing something salacious. Something that neither of you had any business doing.

after all…you were someone else’s. That much apparent by the giant rock glistening from your ring fingering. Even so, it stopped neither of you from crying out and begging for one another because it was only him that could satisfy your body and vice versa. The sounds of your squelching heat ringing out over the speaker of his phone, along with loud moans. Calling him all types of lewd names and all the things you want him to do. They didn’t fall on deaf ears because in a matter of moments, Kyo couldn’t hold back and he couldn’t contain himself. He wanted to fulfill your fantasy more than anything and the thought of that alone was what sent him over the edge. Grunting and cursing as warm beads of pearl colored liquid came gushing over his knuckles. The best nut he’s had in a long time but it can’t be it..he needs more! After all, when lust consumes you, it’s impossible to come out of it. Even when you know it’s morally wrong in every way.

“My husband isn’t home, maybe you should come over and we can really have some fun.”

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faded-if · 1 year

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DEMO (TBA)

Have you ever had everything you thought you wanted? Everything you could ever dream of just within your grasp? Only to find out it was all built on quicksand?

You were the lead singer in the most popular band to grace the music industry in over a decade-- breaking records, amassing fame and fortune, and launching your career into a height you never believed possible. Everything was going great, better than you could ever hope to imagine, until it wasn't. Until everything started to fall apart. The dreams you had thought you wanted, the life you thought you'd be able to build, began to crumble around you.

So, you did the only thing you thought you could do, you ran. Left the band that you had created within a garage back in high school, and the people that had been with you through it all, behind. Never thought you'd go back, that you'd simply fade into obscurity, but the past has a way of catching up with you. Even after five years of being away, you'll always find your way back home.

Just like you find yourself back in the world you thought you'd left behind for the Legacy Tour-- an event that could right all of the wrongs you had caused.

Will you be able to save what's left of your career, your relationships, and your passion for music? Or will it all simply fade away once more?

Faded is rated 18+ for explicit language, sexual themes, drug/alcohol use, potential violence, morally questionable behavior, and more!

✯ FEATURES ✯

Customizable MC: name, nickname, appearance, gender, hobbies, facets of your personality, various vices, public image, and more!

Delve back into the world of the music industry! Will your MC enjoy being back or secretly long for the simplicity that they have carved out for themself?

Create your own music! Will you share it during the Legacy Tour? Wherein millions could finally hear the true story behind why you departed so swiftly?

Engage in romance with a variety of characters! Some may cause more gossip than others, and be notable for the tabloids, but it's all in the name of love!

Interact with fans, new and old, and discover what they think of your departure. Will you be able to win some of them back?

✯ THE ROs ✯

Hudson Lock ✯ He/Him, 26 ✯ A fan that still remembers when you had met years before; citing that you're the reason he has pursued his passion for photography. His passion, as well as his fervent drive to do better, is something to be commended-- especially when it's focused in the manner it seems to be during the Legacy Tour.

"You've been someone I've looked up to for so long, I hope that I can be someone you can rely on when it counts too."

Noah/Nora Fox ✯ He/Him or She/Her, 28 ✯ Your oldest friend and the person that had helped create the band with you-- the only person that had believed in you during the earlier days. The very same person that can barely look you in the eyes, and has shifted from a happy ray of sunshine to the classic partier that sleeps around. Will you be able to fix what's been broken?

Special Romance: Choose to have simply been best friends with them or have been in a relationship prior to you leaving.

"I hate how much I love you sometimes, I hate that it's still your face that I want to see first thing in the morning and the last thing I see at night. I fucking hate that you destroyed me, yet you still hold all the shattered pieces."

Angelina Thorne ✯ She/Her, 28 ✯ The woman that has taken over for you within the band. With an attitude as fiery as her hair, Angelina isn't one to back down from a challenge, especially if she feels threatened. It'll take a while to break down her walls, but she may just be worth the effort.

"I don't know what bugs me more. The fact that you're here or the fact that I can't fucking stand it when you're not."

Elijah/Elizabeth Knight ✯ He/Him or She/Her, 34 ✯ Your old manager hasn't changed in the slightest; barring that they're no longer married. You don't know how you feel about the news, nor do you wish to comprehend what it could potentially mean, but you do know that nothing would ever happen as long as they kept you at arm's length.

Special Romance: Choose to have had a crush on them, but nothing ever happened because they were married.

"You are, and will always be, my only exception."

Jaime Winters ✯ They/Them, 28 ✯ One of the few people you've let close to you within your new "normal" life. They're not the most talkative person, which you can appreciate, but they always make sure you know that they're listening, and they can brighten any room with a signature smile of theirs. Plus, when they do get comfortable their teasing quips and sly remarks can lighten the mood if needed.

"You're still you. You'll never be anyone else to me. I don't care how famous you are."

Harry/Harley Sharpe ✯ He/Him or She/Her, 29 ✯ A security officer that's been placed to protect you, and the band as a whole, during the duration of the Legacy Tour. They seem to be overall a gentle individual, surprising given their career choice, but their drive to protect and serve creates quite an intimidating presence for anyone wishing to cause you harm. Will you be able to resist their gentle eyes and understanding nature?

"I don't know why this happened, or if it's smart that it's continuing to happen, but I can't stop. I don't know if I'd even want to if I could."

#faded #interactive novel #interactive fiction #if wip #interact if #no demo #choice of games #hosted games #dashingdon

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monocaelia · 8 months

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in a good way.

- you fear the gods will take him away from you, that they finally want him to return home to the heavens above, and you pray that day is not today ; aka, you're scared he won't come home again and he assures you he'll always be with you. feat. gojo satoru & gn!reader genre : fluff and comfort w.c. : 1.5k note : rough week for gojo stans; smthn short and absolutely self-indulgent because i love my baby boy to bits and need him to know that i love him.

"i love you."

usually, those words would fill gojo with delight hearing them from your lips. pure affection isn't something that you often share out of the blue; usually, the way you show your love for him is through lighthearted bickering and your fingers pinching his cheeks when he tells you something dumb.

your relationship is filled with blithe teasing and playful touches. there's not a moment where you guys are home together and gojo's arms are not wrapped snuggly around your form despite the heat or your complaints that he smells. it's even worse when he's being clingy because he misses you, which then causes the onslaught of unwarranted kisses to be showered over your face and your cries of distress to be ignored as he pulls you down onto the bed to snuggle and make up for lost time.

his love language shared with you is laughter, and more intimate displays of affection are reserved for when there's something more serious at hand.

and it's not like you've never told him you love him before; you've told him plenty of times. though, oftentimes it's sprinkled in with sarcastic banter when he's being annoying to you.

but you always genuinely tell him that you love him when the time calls for it, like the time he was in fear of losing you to the hands of a curse or the times he felt he was truly alone to endure the responsibilities shoved to him by the higher ups.

your loving words always bring the strongest sorcerer a sense of comfort, grounding him before he spirals into his own thoughts or a moral crisis that almost sends his world spinning out of control.

your soft voice consoling him, gentle hands holding him, and your loving lips pressing as many kisses as he needs is enough to chase the darkness clouding his judgement away and bring back the light guiding him down the right path he has always been treading on.

so when you tell him you love him this time, the timbre of your voice small and vulnerable compared to the excitement or playful annoyance he's used to whenever he comes home, his heart skips a beat and he knows something is severely wrong.

the soft glow of the lamp beside your shared bed casts your body in a warmth that does nothing in comforting you. you look so alone sitting by the bedside like that, and gojo's chest lurches at the familiar sight he never wants to see in a loved one again.

no one should be dealing with their thoughts alone.

with quiet steps, almost as if not to startle you, the tall sorcerer makes his way towards your lone form.

you don't tilt your head to look at him as he approaches you.

large hands reach towards you, your jaw nestled gently in his palms as he tilts your face toward him. crystalline eyes examine your expression, the way your brows furrow and your eyes refuse to meet his gaze makes gojo's heart ache knowing something was haunting your mind.

"penny for your thoughts?" your lover asks. his thumb softly grazes your upper cheek and he can feel his chest swell with both love and worry when your eyes meet his. they're wet, and your eyes are so clearly swollen and he curses at the higher ups for sending him off to work when you so desperately needed someone by your side. "what brought this on, baby?"

you take a breath, shaky and unsure. your shoulders shrug as you struggle to find the words to speak.

"i just-" the words are caught on your throat, your voice cracking as you struggle not to tear up once more. but any attempts at trying to calm yourself are futile as your chest burns and the tears begin to fall. your eyes sting, your body instinctively pulling away as your hands try to wipe your face and hide such a sight from your lover.

he had just come home from a taxing day of curse exorcising; you shouldn't burden him about your worries.

but gojo's hands find yours again. he covers one hand with his while his other gently holds your jaw. your eyes flit up to meet his, familiar blue eyes that you know and love so much bringing a sense of comfort to you despite the thoughts gnawing at your mind. he's obviously worried for your sake, and you can't help but feel even worse knowing that he must be tired and now has to deal with you.

and yet, even as you know this, the words begin to trickle out of your lips no matter how hard you try to stop them.

"there will be a day where you won't come home, won't there?" you ask, voice so fragile as you stare into the eyes that hold the universe inside them. "i know what entails being a sorcerer, and i know every possibility could happen to you. i know that you're near invincible and that nothing can harm you even if you gave them a chance to.

but you're still human, satoru."

your lover does not answer you for a moment as he comprehends what has been plaguing your thoughts this entire time. his lips, pink and soft as ever, part before closing.

and then he smiles, his usual smile that lets you know that he's about to say something dumb.

"and here i thought you were planning on breaking up with me or something," gojo says, laughing softly as you look at him with complete disbelief. he's joking right now? while you're baring your heart to him?

you want to hit him, truly you do, but you don't have the heart to when your white haired lover leans down. his soft lips press against your skin, brushing away the crystal tears that have fallen from your eyes.

he has always loved them, you remember. every time you mentioned how annoying it was that he was so beautiful with those azure eyes of his he would grab your face to shower kisses on until you raised your white flag and accepted that you were beautiful as well.

he loved your eyes, one filled with hope and humanity despite the cruelty shoved onto your shoulders by the higher ups. you both have bore the weight given to you at such a young age because of the way jujutsu society is, and yet your eyes still shine with the hope of reforming it for the sake of the future sorcerers and the empathy that comes with being human.

you're so similar to him, and yet so different that it makes gojo love you even more than he already does in that large heart of his.

the humanity in yours compared to the god-like burden in his.

he wishes so dearly that you do not ever have to witness another tragedy fall upon you and that the light that shines in your eyes transcends mortality and guides the future of jujutsu sorcerers through the night sky as you have done with him.

"baby, do you remember what i'm known as?" gojo asks, his voice gentle as he pulls his face away to meet your gaze once more. he's smiling still, but this time it's less playful and more tender and warm.

"the strongest," you respond.

"that's right, and that means i will always win, even against someone like the king of curses."

gojo presses a few more kisses on your cheeks and your forehead before he leans down fully. his lips find yours in a sweet kiss, one that has your heart melting and the doubts and fear weighing your thoughts dissipating into thin air. he kisses you like you hold his heart in the palm of your hand and any wrong movements would break you and his heart alongside it.

he pulls away from the kiss, soft lips pressing once more on the tip of your nose before his smile comes into your view.

"and that means no curse will ever take me away from you, promise."

and the sting of tears burning your eyes comes once more as he says those words to you. you know it would be difficult to hold that promise because of your jobs as sorcerers, but you can't help but hold onto that shred of hope that he will stay with you until you're both married and old.

you're crying again, in a good way, a wave of brief relief washing over your entire form. your lover softly calls your name as his lips find yours again in hopes of erasing any more final doubts from your head as the two of you share the warmth and safety that comes with being in each others' arms.

if there was a higher being in control of your lives and the paths you walk on, you pray that they keep gojo on the path that keeps him beside you for as long as you both live.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #didi writes #this also got longer than intended #but dear lord i needed smthn to cheer me up #this week has not been good for gojo stans #my sweet baby boy... u don't deserve the fate of the narrative

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luvtonique · 7 months

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I'm just gonna up and say it.

I'm gonna be real. It's something too many of you need to hear.

And it's time someone told you.

If you are made aware of a violent and bloody war, where people are being slaughtered, killed, raped, tortured, having their children killed, having their homes and families destroyed, having their lives taken...

And you see it as an opportunity to "choose a side you support" and put their nation's flag on your profile in support of them, and condemn people who don't support the same side as you?

If you are actively looking for reasons to support your 'side,' making excuses on behalf of bloodshed, arguing about what's 'justified' or 'a result of provocation' to further advocate for bloodshed?

If you ask people which side they support and know deep down that you will be viciously angry if they say "Neither" "I want this violence to stop" or the opposite side of the one you support?

I'm sorry.

But you are a fucking monster.

I have to say this. I literally can't keep reading posts from people fighting over whether they support Israel or Palestine, or even Ukraine or Russia.

This isn't fucking Esports you actual psychopaths! This is war and people are fucking dying! If you are celebrating when you hear "Ukrainians kill 1000 Russian soldiers" or "Palestinians kill Israeli children" you are literally a fucking monster. You are celebrating death, you are celebrating bloodshed, how the fuck do you look at yourself in the mirror and see anything other than a psychopathic death-obsessed twisted individual staring back at you?

You are sick. End of story.

Holy fucking lord I can't believe you fucking monsters so regularly celebrate slaughter of people. These are people, these are lives, these are human beings being fucking killed and you're waving around a flag like you're cheering for a sports team what the

ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU

From the bottom of my heart I hope that you all stand up right now, walk to the mirror, stare into it, and ask yourself, truly, deeply, if this is the person you really want to be. Someone who argues with people about why one side or the other is the 'good' side in war. Someone who actively looks for reasons to forgive the horrible violence happening in our world that's ending thousands and thousands of lives.

This isn't even just for war. Violence in general.

Stop it. Stop thinking there's a good side. Stop thinking violence is justified. I don't care what you fucking think about "the other side" and how it's "okay to punch them," you're a fucking freak of nature looking for any reason you can to justify violence as long as the violence lines up with your personal political views. You are just a fucking sick person.

Someone had to say it. You had to hear it. And I know damn well it's gonna fall on quite a lot of deaf fucking ears because social media is just full of you violence-obsessed genocidal fuckwits.

I already know the replies I'm gonna see.

"But what about if the person being killed is a <label> or voted for <name>? It should be okay to advocate violence against them"

"Oh so it's okay if x kills y but not if y kills x?"

"Wow I can tell what side you chose <clown emoji>"

I know it. I can feel it. I can feel you Tumblrites seething from reading this, from being told the truth about how much of a psycho you are, and you're conjuring every bit of your smug energy, looking into the void of your mind to find the perfect end to a sentence starting with "Wow it's almost as if" so you can "Own me" instead of taking your hands off your keyboard, standing up, thinking for one second about who you are and what your morals are, and deciding to stop advocating violence in any form.

And to the select few who read this and go "Yeah I already don't advocate violence and I'm already a person who just wishes it would stop instead of taking an opportunity to attack people and feel justified in my attack" then you're fine. You're a good person. Go get yourself a nice piece of butter toast or like make some soup you've earned it.

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posthumousvigor · 10 months

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Some splendiferous tags by @unlovedanimals on my other goofysilly post:

They make a great point that I wanted to piggyback off of in a less goofysilly way than the original.

Obi-Wan is not a rule-follower (as established by the recklessness and sheer amount of cunt served), but he is a principled man. His principles are likely a large contributor to why he is not a rule-follower. The whole Melida/Daan thing in Legends wouldn't have happened if Obi-Wan valued rules (and even respect) over what he believed was right. Actually, most events in his life seem to be him getting pulled into some bullshit because he's trying to abide by his principles and do the right thing. The man couldn't mind his own business if he wanted to. The Situations haunt him.

That strong internal moral compass lead him well up until the Clone Wars, when the amount of factors to consider became too great, so he had to slim his attention down to his immediate concerns in keeping people alive. Principles can only get you so far, especially when a creepy guy in a cloak is actively trying to ruin your life and the lives of everyone around you. Obi-Wan's persuasiveness, strategizing, and arrogance were great assets for a general, but ultimately he was too principled and too kind for war.

Some Jedi (Anakin and other fallen Jedi, especially) blame the Order for this, that, and the other because of its adherence to rules and the Code, but notably Obi-Wan doesn't. He reflects, he sees the faults and the missteps (i.e. how they set Anakin up to fail), but he doesn't blame because he never really followed the rules. He followed his own principles, so if he were to blame anyone it would be himself.

What people mistake for following the rules is actually him trying to provide structure for Anakin. Children and people in general do well when there are parameters in place for them to follow if they don't have experience or knowledge to fall back on. The structure is clumsy because Obi-Wan was so young when he became Anakin's master, but he did his best to establish expectations. He wasn't perfect, but how could he be? Perfection isn't human and would make for a very boring story.

The tragedy in Obi-Wan's character is how he's always trying to do what he feels is right even in a world that presents wrong after wrong, and every time he gets knocked down he stands back up, even in the face of his own mistakes.

And he's also a little bitch.

#the bitch factor is what helps him survive #i hope you dont mind me hijacking your tags #they were just so good #star wars #obikin #obi wan kenobi

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ellephlox · 10 months

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Embers and Ashes

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's not easy to keep a low profile when you've got the power to heal, but you've managed to carve out a home for yourself in Hell's Kitchen. By day you're an assistant at a literary agency, and by night you mend broken bones and bloody cuts. It's a double life that constantly forces you to question your morality, because the wounds you seem to magically heal don't vanish forever — they've got to eventually go somewhere.

But after you make the mistake of healing the wrong people, you become Daredevil’s next target, and suddenly your double life becomes far more tangled than you could ever have predicted.

Set post-S3. Slow burn Matt x Fem!Reader. Chapter one will be posted here on tumblr, but ensuing chapters will be uploaded to AO3. You can read Ch. 1 on AO3 here, if you'd prefer.

Warnings: Description of injuries and profanity.

Most normal people in the city dreamed of being an Avenger.

You overheard them at work constantly, ever since it became increasingly commonplace for people to crop up with super-strength or freakishly accurate aim with a bow and arrow:

“I actually ran into Spider-Man this morning — the real Spider-Man! I begged him to sign my arm, obviously, because there was no paper around, and he actually did it! Look, right here. I'm going to get it tattooed after work.”

“Well, last night I had a dream that I was recruited by the Avengers. It was absolutely amazing, Debbie — Tony Stark wanted me to be his girlfriend! God, it was fantastic. He even let me try on his Iron Man suit.”

“Oh, I’d give anything to be enhanced. I’d want to be able to fly. Or teleport. Any power, really, if it could get me a one-way ticket to fighting with them.”

“But did you hear my friend got threatened by Daredevil the other night? That red horned suit is gone, though. He’s in that black suit from the days when we called him the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. I’d love to run into that guy — he’s so strange, isn’t he? Handsome, in a mysterious way.”

At this point in these types of conversations you always tried to tune them out. Their rosy idea of enhanced ignored the things that you saw whenever footage of the Avengers was shown on the evening news. After the battle in New York, they raved about Captain America’s strength, that magic hammer of Thor’s, and the way Dr. Bruce Banner metamorphosed from a man into a monstrous hero, as though it were the best thing in the world to have super-powered abilities.

But when you had watched that footage on the news, after the battle was over, all you saw was the blood. The bodies. The expressions on the Avengers’ faces, of the anguish and turmoil they had witnessed. Being enhanced was a curse, not a gift, and you came to resent the word itself — not for the political controversies it provoked, but for its connotation. In the mouths of anyone else, enhanced was a good thing.

But you knew.

As you held the temples of the man lying in front of you, his skin burnt severely from his fingers to his wrists, you knew.

He writhed, his hands flopping like gasping fish. They were scorched as though in a paisley pattern, leathery and swollen. Second-degree, if not third-degree burns, you thought, as the man jerked away from the light emanating from your own hands, but you kept your grip steady. Slowly the skin began to return to its normal color — splotches fading like they were diluted, heaves of scars sinking back and reshaping as though they had never been there, the energy of his wounds transferring into your hands and through your bloodstream.

You knew, better than anyone, that every gift had a price.

TWENTY-ONE HOURS LATER

It was snowing, yet your hands were blistering.

The plows hadn’t come through yet, and there wasn’t much foot traffic on this side of Hell’s Kitchen, so the sidewalks were thick with snow. Despite your best efforts to hop in the few existing footprints, snow kept falling down into your boots. Your toes were numb, and your ears felt like they were about to get frostbite; you weren’t dressed for the weather. There hadn’t been time to grab a hat and thicker socks when you left your apartment, because you were more preoccupied with the searing burns that were popping like budding flowers on the palms of your hands. They weren't yet to the severity of the burns you had healed on Lynch's hands the previous night, but it was only a matter of time before they began to worsen.

Only one more block.

It was past midnight, and all you wanted was to be in bed, curled up with your pillows and quilted blanket, but just before falling asleep, you’d felt the skin tear open on your hand as though someone were holding a blowtorch to it. It was unnerving. You'd estimated another eight hours, until morning, before the energy you had taken from Lynch's wounds would make itself known.

Clearly I was wrong. You seethed with irritation at yourself and at the fact that Lynch had burned his hands in the first place as more snow collected in your boots. A warm pair of socks would be really, really nice right now.

But situations like this came with the job, even if most people didn't realize it. Whenever people discovered you were able to heal — and they never truly knew it was you, because you were careful to keep your identity obscure — they assumed it was simple. As though you could just lay your hands on someone’s bleeding wound and it magically stitched itself back up. Poof, problem solved! Sort of like all those Avengers your coworkers persistently chatted about. Yeah, if only healing were as easy as doing a few fancy finger movements to open up a portal into another dimension. Doctor Strange doesn't know how good he has it.

Because fancy finger movements definitely wasn't how it worked for you. It wasn’t even close.

You inhaled sharply as another burn made itself known, this time higher on your hand. A quick handful of snow against the welt soothed it slightly, but not much, and you picked up your pace down the street. Your destination was an unassuming brick building, wedged between a hardware store and auto repair shop. LYNCH FUNERAL HOME AND CREMATORIUM, read the sign outside, underneath a layer of graffiti. It was one of your closest friends who owned the funeral home, and the previous day he'd sent you an emergency call for help, though you still hadn't heard the story of how he'd burned his hands in the first place. Not that it mattered much. You didn't ask questions very often; healing was your only responsibility.

There was no one else on the street. There wasn't even much light, because most of the street lamps that weren’t burned out had been buried in a pale coating of frost. Your thoughts turned abruptly to the reports of the so-called vigilante Daredevil, who had reportedly been back on the streets lately. With what you had done in the past, and even with what you were doing now… well, you hoped you never crossed paths with him. Quiet streets like this always made you wonder if today was the day you’d run into him, but it had never happened. Sometimes you wondered if the media simply made him up as a fear tactic to keep crime off the streets of Hell’s Kitchen.

You hurried inside the funeral home, searching for the only person who you knew would be up and about. Please, be here, please, please…

He was. “Grey,” the man at the desk said, surprise crossing his face when you burst into the crematorium. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Grey . Just like the word itself, it was ash on your tongue. It wasn’t your real name. Years ago it had been bestowed on you as a code name, a way to keep your identity impersonal from the people you worked with. But it stuck, and now you could count the number of people who knew your real name on one hand.

“Emergency visit, Thato,” you said, showing him your hands. “I’m sorry. I thought I could manage it until tomorrow, at the very least, but—” You cringed as another burn blistered forth, erupting on the pad of your thumb. “Ow. Shit.”

Thato got to his feet, wincing in sympathy. “Never apologize for this. It’s not your fault.”

You shook your head. “I should be getting better. Improving… this . And I’m not.” It was true. For years, you had been at this same level. If you healed someone — which wasn’t really healing , if you were being technical; it was more like taking their injury and transferring it elsewhere — you could only hold onto it for a short amount of time.

Option One was taking that energy from the injury and transplanting it onto someone else — typically, a corpse. You had a strict policy for yourself to never inflict a wound from someone else that you’d healed onto someone who didn’t receive the wound in the first place.

Option Two was just holding onto that energy until it began to manifest itself on you instead. And that was never pleasant.

Case in point: the damn burns on my hands right now.

You glanced at the door to the morgue. “Please tell me you’ve got bodies in for cremation?”

“As a matter of fact, one arrived tonight,” Thato said, and he put his hand gently on your back to steer you inside. “Let’s go.”

The morgue was cold. Goosebumps pricked up your arms. Thato worked quickly, and within a minute he was pulling out a storage drawer. A woman, her body pale and lifeless, slid out in front of you.

Even when the bodies were dead, this was never easy. You averted your eyes, opting instead to look at the ceiling, and placed your freezing hands on the sides of the dead woman’s head, against her temples. Gradually, after a minute, your hands began glowing — not the yellow glow of the man the newspapers called the Iron Fist, nor the red glow of that Avenger you’d seen on television, Wanda Maximoff. Instead, it was a pale slate color, as though smoke itself had become a source of light. It was this color that earned you your nickname.

“Grey,” your brother had told you, lifting your chin up roughly to stare you down.

He wasn’t really your brother, but he might as well have been. You’d known him as long as you could remember. Kane was the one who raised you, who had been with you since... for a long time. “Got it? Here with us, that’s what you’ll answer to.”

“But my name is—”

“No. When you’re with us, you don’t use your real name,” Kane said. Of course, just like your name wasn’t really Grey, his name wasn’t truly Kane. “You use Grey instead, okay? Grey Arztin, if anyone ever asks for a last name.” He handed you forged identification papers.

“Why Arztin?” you asked, reading the name, and fumbling over the pronunciation of the word.

“It means doctor, in German. Come with me. I have people for you to heal.”

“But I’m not very good at it.”

“Then you need to practice that ability. It’s going to be your greatest gift someday, Grey.”

The energy pulsed in your own temples as it transferred to the corpse, and slowly you began to feel it drain out of you. There was no comparable feeling to this moment, when the build-up of pain was finally relieved from your mental storage space — your cache, you liked to call it. And, suddenly, burns just like the ones on your own hands bloomed across the white hands of the dead woman — raw, fiery welts, discolored in the center and streaking from her wrist bones to her fingertips. They were identical to the burns that had stretched across Lynch's hands the day before, down to the charred bit of skin just below the thumb knuckle. When the energy was gone, you dropped your hands, and the smoky glow faded.

The few burns that had already marked your own skin were still there, of course, because your healing abilities could never fix what had been done to your own body — yet another shortcoming of your power — but they wouldn’t get any worse. It was over.

The corpse was rolled back into her drawer. The family would never know that her hands now bore severe burns that hadn’t been there at her time of death. She’d be cremated tomorrow, Thato assured you. It would be as though you had never even touched her. Guilt curled in your stomach at her desecrated hands. Maybe she had been a pianist. Those hands might have been held by someone else, once upon a time — a mother, a lover, a child. She could have used those hands to climb mountains or type out a novel on a laptop or serve plates of food at a restaurant.

Now, because of you, they were mottled and burnt.

“She’s dead,” Thato reminded you quietly, once you were outside of the morgue and back at the funeral home desk. “She’ll be burned anyway.”

“I know.” You played with the edge of the desk. “I just always feel bad. It feels like I’m… spitting on her memory, or something.”

“It’s a price you have to pay,” he agreed. “But it’s in exchange for the good you do, each time you use your skill. You even bore some of the price yourself.” He nodded at the burns scattered across your own hands. “I don’t like to see you feeling bad, Grey. Anything I can do?”

You smiled. “It's okay. You already helped me. Thanks, Thato. Really.”

I don’t want to keep doing this, you wanted to add. I’ve had enough of all this. The healing, the transferring of the injuries and scars and bruises, the role I’ve played in Hell’s Kitchen. I’m done.

You wanted to tell him, so badly that it made your chest feel tight. Thato had been your friend for as long as you could remember. But if you told him, then your brother would find out, and if your brother found out…

Well, Kane wouldn’t be very pleased with you. He'd see it as a failure on your part, or worse, a betrayal. But it didn’t matter anyway, because you couldn’t leave the organization. Not after everything Kane had done for you, and especially not while you were the one thing that stood between him and death every night that he risked his life.

You tightened your jacket around your shoulders before heading back out into the night, towards your apartment. You took your time; your earlier exhaustion was gone, and with your hands bandaged now, you were able to appreciate the falling snow as it amassed silently, insulating the streets from the sounds of the city beyond.

But you might not have had such a leisurely walk back if you’d happened to tilt your head upwards and look at the roofs — if you had been able to hear the footsteps above as someone followed you in the shadows, if you had known the man they called the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen stalked you, having listened to every word of the conversation in the crematorium.

#daredevil #matt murdock #marvel #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #reader insert #reader #mcu #x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #slow burn

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dokidokitsuna · 27 days

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Our Hero

Looks like Dream Alliance is gonna win the poll-- in any case, even if it slips into 2nd place by the end, it’s the oldest AU on the list so it takes priority. ^^ The art train has already left the station~

I thought it’d be nice to start off with a picture of good old Mad Scientist Magolor. I’ve never actually drawn what he would look like after his big adventure is over, during the brief year or two when he’s considered the universally-beloved savior of the world…y’know, before Consequences™ start to muddy the waters. ^^; He’s basically the same; the only changes are his scar and Nova-freckles, updated vambraces, and of course, the wheelchair. I originally intended for his dimensional overcoat to carry his weakened body around, and I guess it could, but visually I like the actual chair better. :] It makes him feel more down-to-earth.

So, if you remember, a while back I wrote out a “bad ending” epilogue for Dream Alliance, which I admitted I didn’t actually consider “canon” to the AU. "So then," you may be wondering, "what IS the canon ending? What actually happens to Mags and Division Six after they save the world…?"

Well, I gave it some thought, and as painful as it is…I think the true ending would be very similar to the “bad” one. Hyness is the problem-- after all’s said and done, the various leaders of the world would probably want him dead for inciting a global genocide. And it would be hard to blame them…but at the same time, I simply cannot imagine a Magolor who would sit quietly and let his father be executed. Even if it meant having the whole world turn on him, even if he truly felt the punishment fit the crime, he would still have to try to save him. He just loves him too much.

There would only be two major differences, and the first would be the position of the Dream Alliance: one of the conditions of the “good ending” is that Susie discovers the truth about Magolor, but understands where he’s coming from, due to her relationship with her own morally-bankrupt-yet-loving father. She does have a talk with him, but keeps it under wraps, and generally ignores the issue until the public finds out that Hyness exists. And even then, although she’s duty-bound to respect the wishes of the rest of the world (and kinda does want to avenge President Haltmann Sr., who died during the Void fiasco) she feels bad about having to oppose Magolor on this, and holds back a bit during the final fight.

The second (even more painful) major difference would be…I think Magolor would decide to sacrifice himself to end the conflict. 🥺If the world wants a life to take, let it be his-- after all, that would be the harshest possible punishment for his father, and he knows it. Nothing would hurt Hyness more than to live out the rest of his days knowing his beloved son died for his crimes.

And it would also quell any concerns regarding all the power Magolor amassed during the story: if he dies, the Void Destroyer System dies with him. No one has to worry about the god-killing mecha or alien auxiliaries falling into the wrong hands; it will all be gone. That extra detail, I think, would be enough to convince other world leaders to accept the deal.

His angels would agree unanimously to die with their creator, because that’s how they are (Morpho might even pull a “see you on the other side”, being part death-god, after all…he knows they’ll meet again in some form~); Gryll and Adeleine would be inconsolable, the other generals would be low-key devastated too (I think MK would be hit the hardest); and Hyness would probably still be alone in his cell, able to ‘sense’ the loss of his child even without anyone telling him…and wishing for nothing more than to join him from that moment on.

#kirby #gijinka #au #dream alliance #magolor #god damn ;_;#there’s something about this AU that always brings on the freaking tears #you’ll see when I start going through the rest of the extra content

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piracytheorist · 4 months

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something i love about spy family is that its a very funny manga, but it isn't afraid to be serious and talk about serious things (and its also really good at transitioning between the two)

Tatsuya Endo has an amazing grasp of balance. There are a lot of posts going around about how Spy x Family goes from something as heavy as "war makes monsters of us all" to something as silly as "Anya finds Loid's tourist fashion choices lame" and it somehow works.

It's one of the things that made me fall in love with the story from the second if not the very first episode of the anime. It dares to be realistic about how war impacts humans and how it takes them into a path they wouldn't normally take, but at its core it's a story filled with humor and love and connection, because this is how humans are supposed to live like. I mean, not to break it down to a "live laugh love" moral, but at the end of the day it does prioritize people living happily together and in peace. Even the "enemy" is shown in a sympathetic light from time to time.

And the humor and silliness attributes to that. It makes the story light-hearted despite the heavy issues it tackles. It would be hard to find hope in a story that focuses only on those heavy issues, if its vibe was constant grittiness and violence and dark themes. Not that there's anything wrong with stories with such themes; but you wouldn't usually watch such a story and expect to feel full of hope afterwards, nor expect it to have the humor that SxF has.

What is amazing is how Endo manages the balance of it all. How he works in the silliness amidst an environment of a cold war, of hardened spies and assassins, because it would be very easy to veer right into tone-deaf cheesy territory that gives you (unintentional) emotional whiplash. I think it's due to how the characters are only slightly exaggerated versions of something you'd see in real life. Anya behaves as any five-year-old would, where her focus is to work in protection of peace, make sure the family won't break apart, and above all, have fun. Yor's view of the world has been impacted by how long she's worked as an assassin, but her "naivete" is mostly her tendency to see good in everyone, even the "bastards" she's sent to kill. Twilight keeps telling himself everything he does is "for the mission" but he's only human and can't help bonding with his family even if he doesn't realize it.

The characters may behave in an exaggerated way from time to time, but they're not caricatures. The humor and ridiculousness (affectionate) in their actions are based on real human traits and behaviours we can see in real life. The want to have fun, the tendency to see the good in people, the desire to love. Endo simply takes those and has three people whose special traits clash with those three mentioned traits. Anya grew up as a science experiment in a lab where she wasn't allowed to have fun, so now that she has people who care for her emotional growth she goes all out with fun activities. Yor was forced into the choice of becoming an assassin, having to be told "This person is BadTM so you play judge jury and executioner", but with Yuri being her motivation (and later on the Forgers too) she managed to keep her kind heart. Occasionally she can't control her monstrous strength and may also consider killing people who inconvenience her and then go like "Yo wtf chill maybe". Twilight became a spy and distanced himself from human connections, but now that his job brought him into the position of staying long term with a kid and a wife and a dog, his desire for such a connection is rearing its persistent head. And so you get a Professional Master SpyTM playing "Rescue Princess Anya from the Evil Clutches of Count Scruffy Head".

It's the contrast that makes the humor of it all, and in such a way that it never takes only one character's side. I think that also adds to the "flexibility" of the story. It's easier to connect to a story when there's multiple sides explained and understood by the audience; and I mean, the only thing the story looks to be trying to "convince" you of is that humans live best when they live in peace and surrounded by people they love, and that's an undeniable fact of human nature. The characters can and do make mistakes but they're shown to be able to grow from them, and even someone radicalized and extremist like Yuri has understandable motives and a very human nature - just one that was taken advantage of by people in power.

Overall yeah, I think it's how focused on the characters' humanity the story is that it makes the balance between humor and heavy issues work. Again, though it can be exaggerated at times, it's not a caricature or slapstick, just for the sake of making the audience laugh. There's a depth and a genuine reaching out for the audience's emotions and understanding.

(Anime only fan here, don't spoil me for the manga 😁)

#ask and ye shall receive #commieorcs #this probably got too deep lmao #but yeah I do love this aspect of the story so much #and Endo deserves the praise for balancing it all out so masterfully #Spy x Family #sxf meta

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lotrefcp · 3 months

Text

By Your Side - One Shot

pairing/AU: Frankie Morales x female!reader

summary: two idiots

warnings: none really, I don't think,...

word count: 2200+

“Where’s Frankie?”, you heard your boss asking no one in particular.

“He’s not here yet.”, one of the people answered.

“He hasn’t arrived? That’s strange.”, the boss replied. “Ok, thank you. Get back to work.”, he finished, leaving the open space in the hanger where you worked.

You had started working there 2 years ago as a mechanic. It was hard at the time, entering a world ruled by men, always being questioned on you capabilities, on your knowledge, on your strength. But now, after a lot of fighting, and a lot of crying, you were accepted as one of them, one of the guys, and you were grateful for that. There was just one problem. Everyone saw you as one of them, forgetting that you were, in fact, a woman, with feelings, and stupids crushes. Frankie had been one of the few people who welcomed you with open arms since the beginning and, though it wasn’t that that made you fall for him, the proximity that was easily created between you two made it impossible for you not to develop feelings for the man.

He had just finished his divorce when you met him but he never showed interest in another relationship, always blaming himself for the end of his marriage, although he never answered your questions about why he felt guilty for the end of the relationship. One day you just stopped asking. It was in fact none of your business and you were just happy to be there for him whenever he needed someone to talk. He had his friends, Santiago, Will and Ben, but he never wanted to talk about it with them either. Maybe he doesn’t want to be seen as weak in front of his friends, talking about something so intimate as the end of a relationship, you used to thing to yourself. With time you started to become part of his circle, being invited to the bar to have a few with him and his three other friends, to his house to have dinner, to Santiago’s place to watch a movie,... But you were never seen as more than that. And, well, you could handle it, as long as you could be with him, for him. As a matter of fact, you had never had a real relationship, one that lasted at least, so you were used to being alone already.

“Do you know if there’s something going on with Frankie?”, you asked your colleague to your right.

“I have no idea. But he must be fine. He would have told the boss if there was something wrong.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”, you said knowing that it wasn’t true at all. Frankie wouldn’t tell anyone even if he needed help. “He probably just overslept.” The time passed and he didn’t arrive. You were getting worried. You went to the bathroom and tried to call him. No one picked up the phone. You tried again. The same result. You returned to your work station but your eyes never left the clock on the wall, waiting for the end of your shift so you could go to his apartment, to see if he was okay.

At 4pm you grabbed your coat and, barely saying goodbye to anyone, you got in your car and went to Frankie’s house. You got there and started knocking on the door. He didn’t answer. You kept knocking for a good 5 minutes. You were about to giving up when you heard noise inside and, all of a sudden, the door opened.

“What happened to you?”, you asked, worry in your voice.

“Hello to you too.”, he answered, turning his back to you and starting to walk back to his room, letting you in. Once inside, you closed the door, turning around and watching him let himself fall on his bed. He was utterly miserable.

You went after him.

“What happened?”, you repeated the question, seeing him in his bed, under his blankets, pale as a white wall.

“I don’t really know. It looks like it’s a stomach bug. Couldn’t leave my bed all day. Only to go to the bathroom.”

“And why didn’t you answer my calls? I was worried sick.”

“Well, I was trying not to worry anyone.”

“Yeah, that really worked. I would beat your ass if you weren’t already down.”

“I would like to see you try.”

“To beat your ass? I would have no problem. That and a lot of others things.”, you finished speaking to yourself.

“What?”

“I didn’t hear what you said.”

“And you were not supposed to.”, you said ashamed. He looked confused with your answer.

“Y/N, are you blushing?”, Frankie asked looking at your face getting more and more pink by the second.

“Of course not. It’s just really hot in here. But wait a minute.” you said, trying to the change the topic. “You only left the bed to go to the bathroom? What about eating?”

“What for? I can’t keep anything inside.”

“Come on Frankie. You’re too old for that. You know you have to eat something or you’ll never leave that bed.”

“But I can’t stand long enough to prepare anything.”

“And why didn’t you call anyone? Santi? Ben? Will?”

“They’re all working. And they are all terrible nurses.”

“What about your ex?”

“My ex? If she knew I was sick she would just wish me a slow death.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Believe me. And she would be right doing so.”

“You have to stop thinking like that. You’re an amazing guy. Don’t put yourself down.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ok, I may not know what you did or how you were before we met, but for the last two years I got to know an amazing person, an incredible friend and a really sweet man. You have no right of putting yourself down like you do.”, you said. All of a sudden you saw him looking down. You followed his eyes and noticed that he was watching your hand on top of his. When did this happen? You quickly retrieved it, felling your cheeks warm again. “Ok, hum, I’m going to the kitchen to get something for you to eat.”

“You don’t have too. You just left work. You must be tired. Don’t worry about me. Go home. Rest.”

“Don’t you even think about it. We need you at the hanger. The faster you recover the better. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

“Don’t intent to.”

A few minutes later you returned with a sandwich and a cup of tea.

“You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to.”

“I already told that I can´t hold anything down.”

“You have to try. The tea will help. And I just started a chicken soup.”

“Thanks. I don’t deserve you.”

“Yeah, of course not.”, you said looking the other way and walking to the windows, opening the blinds.

“What are you doing?”, Frankie almost screamed at you when the sun hit his eyes.

“Don’t think you’ll be here in the dark, with that beautiful day outside. The sunlight will do you good.”

“But it’s so bright.”

“Of course it is. Specially with you being in the dark the entire day. You men are really a bunch of pussies when it comes to your health. Weren’t you in the army? Man up. It’s just a bug. Now eat. I’m going to check on the soup.” And so you left his bedroom. The hours went by and, after having eaten he could feel a bit of his strength coming back, being able to lift himself a bit and resting his back on the pillow, against the headboard of his bed.

“Thank you for being here.”, Frankie finally told you.

“Don’t mention it. That’s what friends are for.”

“No, I’m serious. I would still be half dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Well, I don’t have anyone else to take care so, ...”

“And why don’t you?”

“What?”

“Have anyone?”, he asked looking you in the eyes. You didn’t know what to say, as lost as you were in his warm brown eyes. All of a sudden you looked down.

“I don’t know. I’m one of the guys. Nothing more.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m the only woman in a workplace full of men. They don’t see me as a woman. And that’s good. When they did I wasn’t recognized by my talent. Now I am. If the price for that is to have others forget that I’m a woman I’m fine with that.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be. The quality of your work has nothing to do with your gender.”

“Really? Do you ever see me as a woman?”

“What?”

“See? Not even you, my best friend, sees me as anything else than another guy. Isn’t that why you started inviting me to your gatherings and your army buddies? You see me as all the others.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is. Or, on the other hand, you do see me as a woman but as one you could never have interest in. And that’s normal. No one ever does. I’m used to it. So...”

“What are you talking about? Yes, you are my friend, and yes, you fit perfectly with my others friends. But that doesn’t take away your femininity, your sexiness, your...”, you started laughing. “What?”, he asked.

“My sexiness? Really? Ok, the bug left your stomach and is now eating your brain.”

“Yes, your sexiness. The way you receive every new colleague with open arms, the way you're ready to help everyone, ...”

“That’s not being sexy, that’s being nice.”

“Just let me finish, for once.”

“Sorry, go on. Try to make up something else.”

“You really don’t believe me.”

“I’m sexy because I help other people? Really?”

“Yes. And because of the way you roll up your sleeves when you start getting hot, the way you cross your legs in your shorts, the way you move when you walk past me, the way you always have oil in your face without noticing it, the way you put your hair up in a ponytail, leaving just a few strands in your face, the way you smile at everyone with a light in your eyes, always shining.”

You didn’t know what to say or how to react. You never thought Frankie noticed you in that way.

“Stop it. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Say those things. Don’t feel sorry for me just because I said I don’t have anyone to care for.”

“You think I’m sorry for you? I’m just sorry for the fact that you don’t see yourself the way I do.”

“You see me that way? Really? You saw all of that and you never saw the most important thing.”

“What?”

“That my eyes only shine for one person.”, you ended up saying, tears starting to appear in your eyes. Frankie didn’t know what to say. “That’s what I thought.” You got up from the chair you were sitting on next to his bed and grabbed your things. “Sorry for that. I shouldn’t have said anything. You have more chicken soup in the kitchen. If you need anything just call. Bye.” And turned around to leave his room.

“Y/N, stop. Don’t go.”

“Why? You’re better and you were right, I need to rest.”

“You can rest here.”

“Really, do you want me to sleep on the couch instead of my own bed? That’s not much of a rest.”

“No.”, he said while getting up from his bed and slowly walking towards you. “I want you to sleep in my bed.”, he ended up saying when he got close to you.

“What are you talking about?”

“What are you doing?”, you asked with a trembling voice, his mouth closer to yours, his breath warmer on your lips.

“I always felt jealous imagining you smiling like that to other people. But I’m the only one that gets to see that shine in your eyes?”, he continued, looking at you like he never had before. He raised his hands to your face and grab it gently, rubbing his thumbs through your cheeks.

“Nothing, if you don’t want me to.” You tried to answer, to move your head, to push him away. But you didn’t. His lips turned up in the most beautiful smile and, finally closing the gap between the two of you, he touch your lips, softly, licking them, trying to memorize their taste. He looked at you and he saw you with your eyes closed. The moment you opened them he knew you wanted him as much as he wanted you and reached for your lips again, full of passion, full of hunger. You put your hands on his chest and, without asking permission, he put one of his hands in the end of your back, and the other one on your neck, pushing you even closer to him. When you were both running out of breath you pushed yourselves apart. Your eyes showcased surprise but your smile didn’t lie.

“Why now?”, you asked.

“Because I was afraid of losing you if I ever tried anything. And you?”

“I’ve wanted you for so long but I’m one of the guys. And you never showed interest.”

“We’re just two idiots.”

“Yes, you are.”, you said, not being able to contain your happiness.

“So...”, he started.

“So...”

“Do you want to spend the night or not?” You answered him by kissing again, your hands lost in the curls of his hair, your chest glued to his, your smile devouring his...

TAGS: @morallyinept; @equinoxofautumn; @dandilionbuttercup-blog; @pedroschmedro; @wowtory; @beckysmiler; @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

#pedro pascal #pedroispunk #triple frontier #pedro pascal triple frontier #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fluff

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admirableadmiranda · 2 years

Text

Sometimes it feels like the main message that a lot of people miss in MDZS in their leaps to justify one character’s hatred for another or attempting to remove them from the world because they will never be at peace until that person is completely eradicated, is that it poses a question of “how much blood does it take to satisfy the anger? How much death is necessary to live? How much pain that you want to inflict is truly equal to what you have suffered? Where is the line between justice, vengeance and murder?”

MDZS does not have our modern sensibilities and laws for such a thing, and it’s on purpose. It’s set in a time where there is no emperor or god onscreen to merit out justice or retribution, it’s all in the hands of the mortals. They get to decide how much is enough.

And the thing that so many people miss is that for almost every character (and I will include Wei Wuxian in this with a caveat) go too far at some point. Sure, the desire to kill your brother’s killer is understandable. But what about the people who you harm in that path? Nie Huaisang does end up taking down Jin Guangyao, but the cost is that Qin Su also dies, destroyed even before her death by the reality of what the men around her will stoop to do out of pride and anger, what they will use her for in the process.

Why do I stand so firmly against the people who say that Jin Guangyao and Jiang Cheng had their reasons, that they were right to go as far as they did? Because the text itself does take the time to show us what is reasonable in that world and what is greedy, wrathful, unjustified.

Jiang Cheng has every right to hate the men who invaded his home and killed his family. In the natures of their society it is not wrong for him to step him and take revenge against them. The supervisory camps in Yunmeng were built on the blood of his people. I have no qualm with him removing them from his land, even though it ends in their deaths.

But that does not mean that his righteous war should extend to all who bear the Wen name and that is where the gap comes in. Wen Chao had him tortured and his golden core crushed. By the rules of that world as extolled by Xiao Xingchen when talking to Xue Yang, it is reasonable to take back what was done to him in blood there.

But Wen Ning is not Wen Chao. Wen Ning risked his life, his sister’s life and ultimately ended up contributing to Wen Ruohan’s campaign toppling and ending in dust because when he was offered the choice to either stick by his family or stick by his morals, he chose the former. The Wen’s attack on Lotus Pier was wrong. The lives they took were unjustified. Their actions were deplorable.

By standing up and protecting Jiang Cheng in the way he does, smuggling him back out of Lotus Pier and hiding him away from the Wen who would kill him, he is declaring that his own family is in the wrong, and instead makes a sacrifice that could have had him and his sister killed should Wen Ruohan ever find out about it.

Jiang Cheng knows this. This is where the right of hatred falls flat. This is where his righteous anger becomes a hunger for blood that will never be satiated.

Now I’m not saying that Jiang Cheng should hug and kiss Wen Ning for everything. There are limits to what humans can endure, even ones as good as Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. But he refuses to ever acknowledge what he knows. He refuses to ever act in kind. He owes a debt and he knows it. And he instead not only refuses to pay it by not necessarily taking them into his lands, but even acknowledging that they did anything. He buries them with their family and his words. He lets his hatred overwhelm all else.

He was not powerless at the end of the war. Far from it, in fact! He had a sect that was still rebuilding its forces, but it had been three years since the start of the war so it can’t be tiny anymore, and he had Wei Wuxian with the Yin Hufu. The only two necromancers in the world, who are powerful enough to hold whole barriers on their own. This is the whole point of the display at Phoenix Mountain. Wei Wuxian is showing the other three great clans and all the smaller clans that it does not matter how many of them they have, Yunmeng Jiang has him and while they have him, they are untouchable. This is a known fact.

Jiang Cheng would have faced no long term retribution from doing anything. He could have simply let Wei Wuxian pull them out of the Jin indoctrination camp and take them through Yunmeng to somewhere else and after some grumbling and some pleading on Jin Guangshan’s part, nothing would have happened. Wei Wuxian is too strong and the other clans are too aware of that. No one was safer than Yunmeng Jiang at the end of the war.

That is why the Jin play off of his jealousy and anger and get him to throw aside Wei Wuxian. It is literally their only option.

This brings me to the other half of my discussion, which is where does the bloodshed end? What is enough spilled blood?

If Jiang Cheng hates Wei Wuxian enough to try to kill him, then this should be a vengeance that ends with Wei Wuxian’s death. Death ends all obligations. We owe no more money, we settle no more debts, we leave the shackles of the living in life and the dead move on as do the living.

So why then is it acceptable that Jiang Cheng spends the next thirteen years killing people that remind him of Wei Wuxian? That the moment that Wei Wuxian does return, his first action is to try and kill him again? That he tortures him multiple times and it is only Lan Wangji’s presence and Jin Ling’s quick thinking that save him on those occasions? By all rights including our modern ones, Wei Wuxian should be free and Jiang Cheng should have moved on in thirteen years. Thirteen years is long enough to raise a child almost to adulthood, but Jiang Cheng clings to a hatred that has had no outlet for that long and continues to try and demand Justice that he has already received.

Where is the line? When is enough? Why does the blood of innocents have to be paid too for the hunger of the mighty? Wen Ruohan subtly assassinated Nie Mingjue’s father, but Nie Mingjue decided that there was only to be death for anyone related to the Wen. They didn’t have to do anything, even if they tried to stop him it wouldn’t be enough. Only the death of every Wen would slake that hunger, and then in death when he is driven only by that hunger, only the death of every Jin. Including the ones who weren’t even old enough to hold a sword at the time he died. Jin Ling is as good as Jin Guangyao for Nie Mingjue to kill. All that matters is that he’s connected. All that matters is that there is another body to feed the never ending hate that fills him.

Xiao Xingchen says that for Xue Yang to take a finger or an arm from the man who harmed him as a child is reasonable. Even to kill him if that is truly the only way to end his hatred. But what is a finger to an entire family? “Because it is mine!” Declares Xue Yang and this is where the crux of it lies. “It is my hatred, it is my anger. It is my right to kill anyone because I am angry and I refuse to let it go.” This is the trait that Jiang Cheng, Jin Guangyao and Xue Yang all share. “I am angry and I am hurt so it is my right to do as I will and no one should take that away from me or I will hurt them too.”

This is why they are antagonists. This is why two of the three of them end up dead. This is why Jiang Cheng staying his hand in the temple and Wei Wuxian’s mercy towards him is the only reason that he survives the end. You can’t ask the world to feed your endless hatred. Eventually you will hurt the wrong person and by the very laws that you and the world have set, will come for you. There is no such thing as bloodshed without pain. There are people who will miss those who are gone. And not all of them will be as good as Lan Wangji. Not all of them will move forward in their lives and ignore you. Sometimes the oriole will stalk you in the shadows, waiting for the moment the praying mantis slips up. The wheel ever turns and those on the bottom eventually rise up.

Now as for Wei Wuxian, we see a different answer on him from the others and this is where his morals really come into play. Cause at first he does exact justice for those lost at Lotus Pier. Steps in which the narrative does not fully condemn him, but suggests lightly that it is the sort of thing that he does not linger in, as well as he himself looks back and decides that maybe he did go too far then. Maybe he did do too much in the name of anger and justice. Three months after the event he is willing to kill and torture Wen Zhuliu and Wen Chao. But three years later he looks at the members of the family that killed his and goes “I do not love you. But this is not right. You do not deserve this. I will not let you suffer this any longer even though your name is Wen.”

For Wei Wuxian, the line ends at the end of war, at the deaths of those who directly caused him the most pain. He does not necessarily forgive or absolve. But he does recognize that there is no sense in continuing the bloodshed or allowing others to continue it out of some misplaced sense of vengeance. He is offered a chance to stop the wheel and he tries. He tries so goddamn hard. He tries until it kills him and everyone else he protects because the anger of the rest is too wrapped up in their self righteousness to examine what is reasonable and what is the cost for what they do.

I do not exonerate the Lan here, but I do point out that they at least actually make an attempt to change things afterwards. We see it in the way that Lan Wangji continues to act in the world. We see it in the way that Lan Xichen stops and reconsiders what he knows of Wei Wuxian, and helps him when the wheel attempts to spin back to where it was before. Where the juniors go out hunting on their own to help people of all kinds. They find weird mysteries and they follow them, they are kind to all. It does not absolve what they have done in the past, it does not make them blameless.

But it is a start. And one that Jiang Cheng has not taken. If he had, we wouldn’t be having these debates and arguments about what is a reasonable enough amount of death and destruction that he can cause on account of his past.

This is where the line is.

Modaozushi asks the question of how much death is enough and concludes at the line “when you continue to court death to satisfy your anger, you will eventually find death standing at your door too.” It happens to Xue Yang, who after killing Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing and everyone in Yi City, finds A-Qing’s ghost leading those who can end his hurting of others for good. It happens to Jin Guangyao who assassinates and hurts so many people that Nie Huaisang finds allies in Mo Xuanyu, Sisi and Bicao, all of whom are willing to help him drag Jin Guangyao to the depths by the chains of his reputation.

Jiang Cheng is offered another chance. Leave Wei Wuxian alone and move forwards with his life. At the end of the book he accepts that chance. It is probably the last one he will get, but he accepts it. This is why he finishes out the book alive no matter how much blood he has on his hands. You can always change your actions until you are dead.

This is the question that Modaozushi posits and answers to all of us and to which I now offer to you when you consider the actions in story. What is enough? How much blood must be spilled before you are happy?

Why does it matter to you that those who are hurt are allowed to hurt without consequence? Where do you draw the line when all of those who caused you pain in the past are buried?

What is the price that you demand for your happiness? When is there enough blood on your hands to be happy?

When do you say “there has been enough death. I will stop this here and now because it is enough.”

Will you be the hero or the antagonist in someone else’s story?

#mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #canon jiang cheng #jin guangyao #xue yang #discussion of antagonists #the cycles of vengeance #long post

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spontaneousmusicalnumber · 3 months

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The Wasp Saga, or, How I Wasted Half my Lunch Break

(Note: If you are rude about wasps on this post you will be blocked. We respect them as important ecosystem members here.)

Yesterday it was super warm, like three months out of season warm, and in order to stave off the climate anxiety I decided to walk to the corner grocery store for lunch, eat outside, and get some rare February vitamin D. In a rare W the grocery counter Chinese food was freshly made, way better quality than usual, and ON SALE so I was riding that high. I ate, I enjoyed the weather. As I was starting to consider saving the rest for the next day's lunch a wasp buzzed up to me and landed. on my leg.

Now one thing about me is that I am trying very hard to overcome a crippling phobia of bees and wasps. From when I was a child through my early 20's I was frequently trapped inside or outside buildings because a wasp was hanging out near the door frame and I would refuse to go within 20 feet of it. Please read the following as if it required the courage of a knight and the patience of a saint.

This wasp was likely a queen that had woken up from hibernation a couple months early and was looking for a place to build a new hive. I respect wasps as important members of the ecosystem despite my deep seated fear and did not wish to kill her. She was the least flappable, most chill wasp I have ever encountered. This worked against me.

You see, she was quite happy to be on my leg. Started meandering down my khakis towards my shoe as if she didn't have a care in the world. As if I wasn't shaking my leg, walking around, stomping my foot, jerking back and forth, and jumping up and down to try and dislodge her. Eventually she walked onto my shoe and I did NOT want her do decide the inside of my pants was an attractive option here. So I bent down and blew on her, which finally bothered her enough to get off this ride. She buzzed away and landed.

On the edge of my lunch.

Now if this were any other day, I might have let her have it. Being on the wrong side of an angry wasp is not pleasant. But today the chinese food was good, and I wanted those leftovers as much as she did. So I decided to fight for it.

Let me set the scene: I am sitting on a concrete ledge, about knee-high. My lunch is inside a container, and the container is still nestled in the plastic bag from the grocery store. The container has a lid, which I managed to get over the food before the wasp could climb onto it. The wasp was on the plastic container, somewhat nestled inside the plastic bag.

Now if this wasp was content on my leg, she was downright ecstatic here on my lunch. She has just discovered a heaven of meat and fat and sugar. Her daughters will feast their whole lifetimes. She is not letting go.

I am trying to figure out how to bother this blissed-out wasp enough that she decides to abandon this nirvana, but not enough for her to decide I am a threat that must be eliminated. The next few minutes are spent nudging and prodding and shifting the container. Not a move. I move the bag. She folds up her wings. I blow on her. Frequently, often, from multiple angles. She's not falling for that trick again.

I try to nudge her off with a fork. Twice. She doesn't even move a leg, just sways sideways. I decide to take more drastic measures. I get up on the seat, take off my overshirt, and gently start flailing it at the bag, hoping to brush her off or make her think she's being swatted.

At this point a dog walker comes by and notices me standing up on a concrete wall, gingerly flapping my henley at a Monday orange chicken special. "Wasp stole my lunch," I explain. She sympathizes and moves on. I realize the wasp also stole my dignity a long while ago.

A gust of wind hits and the wasp seeks shelter under the lip of the container. My lunch break is very nearly over. I seriously begin to consider that I may lose. I realize that leaving my lunch here would be littering, and wildly against my morals. I press on.

I pick up the container out of the bag, wasp and all. I swing it left and right. I shake it up and down. She doesn't even care. I seriously wonder if I should just bring her inside and go about my day. Maybe if I put her in the fridge she would get sleepy enough to capture and release. Or maybe I'd be the idiot who let a wasp loose in the building because they brought it inside on purpose. It's a long walk from the door to the fridge.

I get to the door. Now or never. One last idea. I drop it a few inches. This is the move: Precisely enough to make her lose her grip on the container. My last view of her is on her back, wings not even buzzing, legs flailing as she tries to stand up. I snatch what is now mine by right of combat and flee indoors.

It was 76 degrees that day, yesterday afternoon. Tonight it will get down to 12. That's a normal temperature for February. She should not have been awake yet. I hope that despite all the grief and indignity she caused me, that she found somewhere safe and warm to hide, and that she finds somewhere just as good as my container of chinese food to build a nest.

#my posts #stories #bugs #wasps

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