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aajjks · 13 days

Text

Blurred Lines (m)

synopsis: the lines are blurring- you’re forbidden but he has to have a taste.

paring. soft!yan best friend!jk x Reader

warnings. yändêrê,, flüff, obsèssïvè thöüghts, lôvèsïck jk, DÏRTY thöüghts,, Jungköök is sö nöt pürè LMÁÔ büt wbk.

note. heh. ENJOY AND SEND ASKS FOR HIMMMM ILY GUYS.

DO NOT ROMANTACISE THIS BEHAVIOUR AND I DO NOT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOUR IRL AND THIS IS PURELY FICTIONAL AND THIS FIC DOES NOT REPRESENT BTS OR JUNGKOOK AS A PERSON.

You’re the one he loves and maybe he’s too late to realise it, you’re singles, yes. But he just got out of a great relationship and you’d never date your best friend.

An angel that was sent in jungkooks dark, plain life to light it up with its radiatingly angelic existence. before you, it was all dark and smoky around him, the constant chaos, bad relationships and gleaming was starting to taint his entire life but then you were always there…

His savior, his salvation. His best friend, YN LN. yes, his YN, the girl of his dreams. Jungkook loves you so fucking much. His love for you is indescribable. Really, he is so devoted to you, but being your devotee was the least he was doing...you were a goddess, you deserved someone better than him.

A lot better, pure. Jungkook knew that he didn’t deserve you, you are like a forbidden fruit that’s so tempting to taste.

Becoming your best friend was a start...for something more...way more that jungkook craved so much. But… he never dared to cross the line, and then Dakhyung came.

He tried to suppress his emotions and feelings for you, how could he love you, his best friend.

But the truth is..

Jungkook is in love with you, his best friend. he has been loving you. His world revolves around you. the most random things you talk about are so lovely to hear...your voice is so soothing.

It soothes jungkooks inner demon that threats to come out and take over him. the one that’s so into you.

Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N and Y/N.

Maybe his interest in you was partly responsible for her cheating on him.. maybe, she didn’t like you.. her loss.

“Kookie!!” Jungkook blinks, Finally pulled back to reality. He tilted his head to look at you, and his mind goes blank.

God, you are so pretty, so fucking beautiful. You are a masterpiece, God’s greatest creation, God’s biggest masterpiece. “KOOKIE!”

“Y-Yes!?” This time a soft smile finds its way to his lips and his cheeks heated up in embarrassment. “yes YN?” You huff in annoyance. “What are you thinking so deeply about, kook. I’ve been calling you for the last 17 minutes.” If it was even possible, his cheeks felt more heated.

if only you kn- “got a crush or something kook? Or thinking about the bitch?”

You interrupt the trail of his thoughts once again. he looks up at you in surprise, his dark doe eyes wide with his mouth agape.

“Fuck Dakhyung.” He refers to his now ex girlfriend. He hates her, to be fair he never loved her, the relationship was rushed, she wanted to be with him and… he was too scared to ask you out.

Dumb move.

But then she cheated on him, what a whore.

“w-what?!” he stutters, his heart threatening to explode in his chest. “What, What kook. A crush. Perhaps you have a crush since you’re so distracted these days...” on your face was a mischievous smile that made him scared.

But she really did him a favour by freeing him.

what if you knew? did his friend tell you? that fucker— “w-why do you think I-I have a crush? How’d you know... Yn.” Jungkook looked everywhere but at you.

“I just got cheated on yn!”

now, don’t get jungkook wrong. He loves you a lot...like it was probably unhealthy. But he hated just how smart you were.

But then again, it is also so hot.

Jungkook shakes his head at his lewd thoughts. Now was not the time. Jungkook liftes his head up to see you so close to his face.

eeeeekkk!

“Y-Y-Yn!!! W-What are you doing!?” With your face so close to his, jungkooks breath hitches in his throat. you really are Gods most magnificent creation. and...

you smell so fucking good. peachy, his favorite scent. “jungkooooookie is innnn looooveee!~” the way your mouth moves was so attractive, your lips were so plump.

So pink and glossy, his mouth was salivating at the sight. nice lipgloss.

Damn your glossy pretty lips.

what does it taste like? Oh he desperately he wishes he could know. His gaze is set on your lips as he forces his frozen mind to think logically.

No! Jungkook is not a pervert. You are pure. He inhales loudly while scolding himself mentally.

Now. is. not. the. time. jungkook.

He closes his eyes and gulpes. These thoughts are haunting, how would your lips feel against his? your soft skin would be heaven to touch…

Just look at you.

stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop— fuck it.

“Y/N can i kiss you?”

maybe he isn’t as pure as he thought.

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reyalvr · 1 year

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Hi! I've had this idea simmering for a bit - could you possibly do an angsty enemies-to-lovers Aonung x fem Sully reader where they're veryyyy much enemies but during the demon ship battle, either one of reader's close friends/family members (could be neteyam or someone else) is dying and they ask aonung to not let reader look. She's freaking out and losing it and he's just trying to comfort her, hug her, calm her down, etc. Hope this isn't too specific - do with it what you wish :) tysm

ASHES ON FIRE.

୨⎯ in which peace is luxury that you cannot afford. ⎯୧

genre┊ angst, slight e2l & comfort, one-shot

pairing┊ao’nung x fem-sully!reader (? help), a little (lot) bit of brother!neteyam & fem-sully!reader as well

wordcount┊2.9k

warnings┊major movie spoilers, death

author’s note┊ finally doing this request! i’ve been wanting to write it for a while now but i was so focused on ITMOIA <//3 hope i did this justice, anon! i had to rewatch the demon ship scene a couple times so i could stay true to the story, so apologies if i messed up a bit on the prompt you gave me T^T.

song recs ┊ na'vi attack, the bug collector.

The sky people say that ignorance is strength. That if you were numb enough to your surroundings, nothing would be able to break you; that nothing would matter so long as you didn’t feel anything.

They were wrong.

It had all happened so fast – all of you riding out the moment you realized that your siblings were in danger, the war party attacking the RDA the second Payakan had seized the demon ship. Against your father’s orders, you had jumped on your ikran as fast as you could, flying all the way to Three Brother’s Rocks.

You had no plan, only focused on saving your family. You soared swiftly through the clouds, drawing your bow each time you came in contact with an enemy ship. You had lost count of how many times you had shot something into the sea – it didn’t matter to you anymore.

Chaos had struck all around you; everywhere you turned, you saw war. The Great Balance wasn’t present here, this was a place of loss. You yelled as you narrowly missed the shots fired from a gunship, and you retaliated by shooting an arrow into its propellers.

You were running on pure adrenaline, your mind clouded with only one thought: save your siblings. It was a recurring voice in the back of your head, and it seemed to jolt you back into focus every time you felt your nerves start to calm down. You hissed as you flew near the water now, aiming for any of the boats that shot at the clan.

For a split second you were able to catch a glimpse of yourself in the water. You were terrifying. Your eyes had gone completely wide, pupils so constricted to the point where they were almost gone. The sneer on your lips didn’t aid in making you look less terrorizing; you were absolutely feral.

You didn’t linger on your appearance for too long, though, as you had come in contact with one of the avatars, their bullets slightly grazing your shoulder. You yelped as you banked hard in order to get away from them, your adrenaline the only thing stopping you from feeling any immediate pain.

It stung, bad, as you drew your bow, aiming directly for their heart. You let go without a moment’s hesitation, watching as the demon slid off of his ikran and into the water. You yelled in fury, your mind still unable to process your recent actions.

Your ears perked up at the sound of rapid gunfire to your side, your eyes growing even wider as you recognized the electric blue colors of your mother’s ikran. You turned sharply, almost hitting the side of the ship as you willed your banshee to get to your mother’s position.

“Mom!” You yelled, bow drawn as you aimed for another one of the demons.

Her head turned instantly at the sound of your voice, her face blanketed in fear and worry. She had no time to scold you for being on the battleground, her attention concentrated on ambushing the sky people.

You watched as your arrow soared straight into the avatar’s chest, his limp body plunging into the water like bait. The pain in your shoulder had started to make itself known again, yet you pushed forward in battle. You weren’t gonna let a minor injury get in the way of your rescue mission.

Though, your streak of undefeated shots had to be ended sooner or later. You hadn’t seen the boat from underneath you, and they landed a shot to your ikran’s leg. You heard her screech, and the both of you rapidly barreled into the ocean.

“[Y/N]!” You heard your mother yell before you were surrounded by water.

Your ikran, though injured, had been able to pull herself out of the water and fly to safety. You quickly followed, gasping for air as you swam to the surface. You didn’t waste any time in finding land, and you moved fast in order to get cover.

You were vulnerable now to the enemy’s attacks, no longer having the advantage of being in the air or wielding a bow. You leaned against the rocks, looking out for gunships while simultaneously catching your breath. The weight of fatigue was starting to hit you now, and you feared that your body would soon succumb to the exertion you had put yourself through.

The battle prayer to Eywa rang in your head, the words of the Great Mother slowly pushing you to move forward. Tirea oeyä maway livu, Ma Eywa. Calm my spirit, Eywa.

You groaned, your eyes closed as you forced yourself to stand. All hope was not lost, as in the distance you spotted the familiar dark blue of your sister’s skin. You called for an ilu and dove quickly, swimming as fast as you could to Kiri and the others.

“Kiri!” You yelled as you neared them, your heart pounding in relief.

She turned, her eyes recognizing you as soon as she saw you. “Sister!”

Your reunion with her would not be now, however, as an ikran had plucked her up right in front of you before you’d even been able to wrap your arms around her. You yelled, your voice nearly going hoarse, and whatever tiredness your body felt was soon melted away by the bubbling rage within you.

“No!” You screamed, and you moved to chase after her but were stopped by an iron grip around your arm.

You hissed as you turned to face whoever was stopping you from saving your sister. Ao’nung pulled you in, his eyes scanning over your face as he tried to tell you to fall back. You stood now on the remnants of a destroyed boat, though you would much rather be on your way to hunt whoever had stolen your sister from you.

“Let me go!” You yelled at the Metkayinan boy, your other hand coming up to yank his hold off of you. “I need to get to the demon ship, now!”

“And let you die?” He argued back. “No, I won’t allow it.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” You spat, your tone as venomous as your stare. “Who are you to decide that for me?”

“That does not matter! I will not let you go in there unarmed!” He fought back, both of his hands now gripping your forearms.

You hissed at him again, your body on the brink of lashing out. Was he out of his mind? Your siblings were in danger, now more than ever. He could not keep you here, you weren’t going to allow it. You thrashed, exerting yourself to the max as you tried to free yourself from his hold.

“[Y/N], please,” Rotxo spoke up, his expression filled with concern. “Ao’nung is right, it is too dangerous for you to go in there alone!”

“I do not care!” You roared. “Kiri was just taken, right before our eyes! If I do not get to her now she could die! What don’t you understand about that?”

They flinched at your voice, and that gave you the opportunity to finally free yourself from Ao’nung. Your head whipped in his direction, your glare shooting daggers into his skull. He moved to grab you again, but you were swift in avoiding his movements. You were about to jump back into the water and swim to the demon ship before you caught sight of someone from your peripheral.

You turned, your breath hitching as you watched your brothers hastily guide an ilu to a desolate island. You didn’t have to say another word before the three of you swam hurriedly to them, your legs burning as you forced yourself to move faster.

You climbed up the rocks, not caring if your knees and palms were scrapped by the jagged edges. You opened your mouth to call out to them, but stopped as soon as you registered the scene in front of you. Your heart dropped, and you could feel yourself shake as emotion after emotion overwhelmed your body.

On the ground lay Neteyam, his body jerking as he fought to maintain his breath. There was a scarlet wound on his chest, blood continuously leaking out of him as Lo’ak did his best to stop it from flowing any further. You nearly lost balance as you dropped down, holding your brother’s head away from the hard rock and onto your lap.

“What happened?” You demanded, your eyes frantically examining his current state. “What happened?”

“‘Was shot,” Neteyam murmured, the action clearly taking a toll on him.

“Shut up, damnit,” You hissed at him, your tone fluctuating from anger to concern to fear. “Do not exert yourself for Eywa’s sake!”

“We went back for Spider,” Lo’ak said to you as he continued to put pressure on your brother’s wound. “Neteyam he- he got,”

He was panicking now, his breath coming in short. You were trying your best to remain sane, though the situation you were in only aided in making you feel worse. Your sisters were being held hostage by those demons, and now your worst fear had suddenly come to life.

Your mouth went dry as you tried to focus, your ears ringing from the forced concentration. You couldn’t think straight, and the inconsistent beat of your heart was preventing you from doing anything precisely. Somewhere in the distance you heard your mother and father, their cries of panic suddenly filling the grief-stricken atmosphere.

You had no time to acknowledge them though, as you were solely focused on Neteyam’s condition. There was blood – so much blood that you started to feel lightheaded from the sight. Your hands had come up behind his back, your palms covering the exit point of his wound.

The sky above you was grey, the bright blues no longer gracing Awa’atlu. Eclipse was near, and the smoke around you had only added to the lifelessness of the Great Mother’s land. Your brother still struggled to maintain his breath, his pupils dilating more and more the harder he tried to remain conscious.

You couldn’t think, you couldn’t speak. Your body was operating on auto-pilot, your mind blocking out as many distractions as it could. You hung your head low, feeling hot tears starting to form. You prayed every prayer to Eywa, begging her to spare your brother. It could not be his time yet; it would be too cruel.

Your father’s hand came up to cup your brother’s face, and you had never seen him more broken in your entire life. Neteyam was begging now, begging to go home. Your real home. Home to the fortress of the Omatikaya, home to the forests of Eywa, home to his family.

“I know, I know,” You father breathed out, the pain in his heart spreading to his expression. “It’s okay, we’re going home.”

Neteyam looked around him now, his eyes darting from one person to another. His gaze landed on you before he spoke up, his voice so weak that it broke your heart.

“Dad, I,” He finally let out.

You waited for him to finish his sentence. You waited for what felt like an eternity. You waited and waited and waited. But his reply never came, only the deathly silence of loss filling his being. You didn’t want to believe it. It was not right, this loss.

You blinked slowly, your breath so slow that it felt like someone had knocked you over. Your mind had registered Neteyam’s death almost instantly, but your heart – oh Eywa, your heart. Your heart was heavy, filled with so much sorrow that it nearly broke you.

Your world had shifted the moment your brother passed, and it felt wrong. Neteyam’s spirit was with the Great Mother now; you couldn’t battle anyone for his soul back, couldn’t bargain with any Tsahik for more time. He was gone.

Your mother wailed the moment she realized your brother had passed, and her screams of agony pierced your heart the same way his death had. You felt your shoulder slump, your hands slipping from your brother’s back as you no longer tried to stop the bleeding.

Your auto-pilot had been switched then, the reality of your world crashing in on you. You felt like you were about to break, like you were about to shatter into a million pieces. Your head was spinning, so much to the point where you nearly fell as you slightly backed away from your brother’s lifeless body.

Your sweet, beautiful, kind-hearted big brother was gone. You felt like you were a child again, waiting for Neteyam to tell you that this was all just a nightmare. Eclipse had finally set, the world around you going dark as the fires continued to blaze.

Your family was frantic now, your father trying to get your mother to stay strong, Lo’ak disassociating from the world around him. You cried then, cried like you would never be able to cry again. You placed your forehead against your brother’s cold one, your screams scratching your throat.

You cried out for Neteyam, cried out for your mighty brother. He was the glue that held your family together, and without him you didn’t know how any of you would be able to live on. The others just watched over you as you sobbed, their eyes so full of pity.

You didn’t care if they saw you as weak now, you were hurting so badly. May Eywa never let them experience this kind of loss, because you could feel a piece of you dying alongside your brother the longer you continued to cry. You felt a pair of hands come up on your shoulders, and you tried to push them away with whatever might you had left in you.

“[Y/N],” You heard Ao’nung say, his calloused hands still gentle with you as you continued to break down. “[Y/N] you must rest.”

You lifted your head, finally seeing that your family, as well as Spider, had disappeared. You looked at Tsireya, and the look in her eyes had told you everything you needed to know. Stay here, please, her gaze said.

You took a deep breath in, and it felt like you were breathing again for the first time. You wanted to go against whatever orders your father had told them to give you, but you knew that acting rashly would only worsen things for you. So you stayed, glued to your brother’s side as you mourned your loss.

Ao’nung had not left your side either, his worriedness for your wellbeing keeping him attentive. You couldn’t tell if he was doing this to help your father or if he was doing this to keep you from going insane, but still it gave you a sense of comfort – however cruel it might be to long for it during this time.

He didn’t say anything to you, only rubbing your shoulders to keep you grounded and aware. If this had been any other situation, you would have already distanced yourself from him. You and Ao’nung weren’t friends, though you weren’t exactly horrible towards each other either. Either way, you didn’t feel the urge to yell at him to go away; instead his presence soothed you, slowly getting you to calm your nerves.

You leaned into him, and he took you in with open arms. Though your heart was still heavy, your body had seeked the warmth that it desperately needed. He matched his breathing with yours, aiding to quell the tensenes of your body.

You watched as Tsireya and Rotxo tried to clean up whatever they could off of your brother’s body, their movements light and gentle. You held his cold hand, your hands coming up to close his eyes. He looked peaceful now, as if he were just resting.

You would have believed so, had it not been for his dried blood on your hands. Your bottom lip quivered, and you closed your eyes once more as you fought to stay composed.

You felt Ao’nung’s thumb rubbing circles on your arm, his other hand clasped around your free hand. This was an intimate gesture between mated people, you knew, but you didn’t care. His comfort gave you an escape from the harsh realities of life. You felt yourself drifting off, your body too tired to remain awake.

“Sleep if you want to,” Ao’nung whispered. “You and your brother are safe here.”

You sniffled slightly as you nodded your head, your eyes heavy from crying. “I must pray over him first. I must protect him this one last time.”

He only nodded, still keeping his arms around you as you brought Neteyam’s hand up to your heart.

“Oel ngati kameie, ma tsmukan, ulte ngaru seiyi irayo. Ngari hu Eywa salew tirea, tokx 'ì'awn slu Na'viyä hapxì.” You said in a hushed tone, the others bowing their heads as you recited the death prayer.

I see you, brother, and I thank you. Your spirit will run with Eywa, while your body will remain and become part of the People.

You leaned back into Ao’nung, your hand finally clasping around his as well. You squeezed his hand, tilting your head slightly to look at him. You closed your eyes, bowing your head to him.

“I see you.” You whispered.

He held you closer, his voice the last thing you heard before slumber had taken over your body. “I see you.”

tags┊@chunghaaaa, @kiris-wife, @8resa, @avatarkv, @urlocalkeemawearingartist

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psuedosugu · 2 days

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thinking about suguru with a witch-hunted reader.

“she’s a witch, she has to be!”

“she’s unholy, impure.”

“that girl, she has the devil in her.”

-regular whispers you heard from the inhabitants of the remote village you lived in, their judgmental gazes piercing into you, as they sensed your cursed energy, as they sensed that something was wrong with you.

you learnt to stay indifferent to their words, or at least to look the part, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t get to you sometimes. you often dreamed of leaving for the city, but you had little money and life would be hard, perhaps one day, though.

perhaps their observations weren’t of zero substance, though. while it might not have been particularly demonic, there was something unnatural about you. since the age of 8, you had seen these……things….lurking in the corners and in the dark. they were horrifying, and they only grew more hideous as you grew older.

then, at about 14, you realize that you had this strange connection to the world, particularly the oxygen around you. as you learnt how to harness your powers, you were able to create wind with nothing but your hands, and as your power grew, you realized you could do so much more, condensing air enough to lift, slice, and squeeze items, it was beautiful, but dangerous. you couldn’t let anyone know about your abilities, you couldn’t prove them right.

you slipped up though, of course you did, you couldn’t keep this part of you locked away forever. they had their proof now, they had their warrant to lock you away, planning to burn you on the steak for all to see, for all to celebrate the death of the witch. they didn’t really think it would be that easy, did they?

you killed them, the day of your execution. you killed the executioners and the onlookers, leaving only few to run away. you looked around at the chaos you had created, dead bodies limped everywhere. you were alone, so what now? you grabbed your belongings, stole some money (the townspeople were dead, its not like they would miss it, anyways), and set off on a bus ride, determined to make yourself a life. this was a new beginning, you thought, you were leaving everything behind.

this proved to be harder than you thought, though. with the money you had pocketed, you were able to stay some cheap motel at first, so atleast you weren’t sleeping on the streets, but your money wouldn’t last forever. you resorted to bussing tables at an old diner. the pay wasn’t great though, and you found yourself feeling isolated. you had no one to help you here, you were foreign and alone.

the day you got kicked out of your motel room, you were sitting in a park, unsure what to do, when a strange man approached you. he was tall, with long hair half up, half down, and a strange aura to him. “are you [first-name] [last-name]?” he asked with a kind voice. you eyed the man with distrust, but nodded anyways.

“ah,” he said, “ive heard so much about you. i suppose i should introduce myself. im suguru geto.” he smiled. suguru had heard the hushed bickering of a curse user, one who wiped out a whole village in self defense. he found you intriguing, and a perfect addition to his cause, his mission to eradicate all non-sorcerers, or monkeys, as he called them. “…what do you mean, ‘you’ve heard about me?” you stammered out, eyes slightly widening. he ignored your question, instead asking “do you have a place to stay, miss [last-name]?” you shake your head no.

“well, you can come with me if you’d like. i have a place you can stay, with other curse users.” of course he didn’t tell you the fine print yet, he needed to rope you in first.

you messed around with the words ‘curse user’ in your mind. so thats what people like me were called? you also played around with the idea of trusting this man. he came out from nowhere, and his offer sounded too good to be true, but you couldn’t wave away the comforting feeling he radiated. he was like you, and things couldn’t get much worse than how they were now, you thought, so that settled it.

you went with the strange man, unsure of what would happen to you. little did you know, you would be getting sucked into a life-altering decision.

pt 2 is coming eventually guys dw!!

#x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto jjk #suguru geto x reader #geto x you #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #geto x reader

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frankensteins-mt-dew · 2 months

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my brain is back on its mighty nein baybees bullshit

imagine Fjord and Beau (post ruidius chaos)going to liberate the orphanage where Fjord grew up and make it their mission to get the kids to good homes and also make the orphanage a much better place.

They meet and care for so many kids of all different races in that time, but some have latched on to them.

Literally, in Fjord's case. From day one a half orc that can't be older than four grabs on to Fjord's pinky and follows him everywhere. He doesn't speak, but he is very smart and knows everything and everyone in the orphanage. When Fjord mentions leaving for the night the boy releases his pinky and bear hugs his leg. After a bit of gentle parenting from him and Beau, Fjord accepts his fate and goes home to Jester with a kid on his leg. Jester's exuberance scares the boy at first, but she wins him over with sweets and hamster unicorns. Soon he starts opening up to them. His name is River. He likes pancakes. He's scared of storms, even dark clouds make him panic. He hates his tusks, too. Fjord and Jester never really sit down and discuss adopting him, or even ask River. It's clear without any words or labels that they are a family.

Beau has a rough time with this project. Sure, the first few days are great. The kids are cute, and they look up to her. But there are so many of them. And they are so loud and sticky,how are they so sticky, when did that even happen? But she knows what it's like to have a shitty childhood, and works to make sure they won't have one any longer. There's one that's different than the rest. A half elf baby that Beau almost didn't know was there. She's quiet but curious, eyes always wandering, and content to just lay around. Beau makes a baby Bjorn to put her in while she herds children and does paperwork. It's strange, she never in a million years thought she'd be anything close to nurturing. She's not even doing much. But this kid seems content with her, even smiles up at her when Beau looks down from her work. When Yasha comes by she is swarmed by children. They treat her like a jungle gym and she could not be happier. She takes turns caring for this nameless baby and is in awe with her. How tiny she is, her big beautiful eyes. Yasha nicknames her Bug and tells her stories. There's no changing her mind, this is their baby, she tells her wife. There's just the question of her name, now. They make lists of names for her: flower names, names conventionally used for boys, weather names, warrior names. Nothing seems to fit her. Then one day Beau notices she has a red birthmark on her back at the base of her neck, where she herself has a tattoo to remember a fallen friend. Then it's clear what their little girl's name is. Soon after, they throw a party at their home to introduce the rest of the Nein to their daughter, Molly.

#i have so many thoughts #I miss the mighty nein so much #critical role #cr spoilers #the mighty nein #fjorester #beauyasha

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stopaskinf · 5 days

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“If I couldn’t have you as a picture on my side, I’d rather die”

Summary: Something’s been following you. Yoongi doesn’t seem too concerned though.

Genre: Yandere Yoongi, dark fic, lowkey dead dove do not eat?

Word Count: 0.5K

CW: Cursing, Heavyyyyyy Stalking, implications of breaking and enter, reader feeling objectified, lowkey paranoid reader but for good reason

A/N: This week has not been great for me, so idk send me money or reblog this for me to feel better 🙃

Min Yoongi is omnipresent.

You’re being followed.

You’re unsure about many things, except for the fact something is following you.

You hear its footsteps as you walk down the sidewalk. The footsteps are light, unnoticeable to anyone else except you.

The constant shuffling that occurs as the sole of their shoes scrape the concrete. The squeaks that occasionally interrupt to feast on the surrounding sounds around. It’s deafening.

Its figure looms over you everywhere.

Hallways. Elevators. Work. With friends. With family. With strangers who take too much of an interest in you.

You can’t put a name, face, or smell to it. There’s nothing you can define it by or associate with other than you. All you know about it is that it’s everywhere.

They’re your shadow.

You sit on carpeted floor in Yoongi’s living room, shaking. He’s not there, but he hears everything you’ve said. He listening. He’s always listening.

Yoongi is in the kitchen prepping kimchi to go with the savory dinner he promptly made once he knew you were coming. He knows you haven’t eaten. Once you get off work, you’re too tired to cook, so you miss dinner altogether. Additionally, he knows you hate frozen food and store-bought kimchi. It never tastes as good as when something is handmade.

“Stop scratching that scab. It’ll get infected.”

The man has eyes in the back of his head.

He’ll never look you straight in the eyes. Still, he knows

every move you make.

His dark orbs are constantly covered by the flowy bangs that frame his fame. They’re always pointed down or focused on another task as if focusing on you would destroy him.

Although, you feel the power his stare holds.

When you leave his house after a long night, you swear you can sense his eyes peering down at you. They detach themselves from his sockets and follow you to what is supposed to be the privacy of your home.

You have a vivid memory of having sleep paralysis. You woke up to darkness encasing you and faint breaths alerting you. You adjust your eyes and you see it. You fucking see it. That fucking creature. It takes the shape of a man, but you know better. No man’s eyes are that malevolent. The one whose eyes bore into your soul as if it is all-knowing. They wouldn’t need any other part of their body to infiltrate yours. Those disgusting, beady dots that waiver as you make eye contact are more than enough for them. The eyes that dare you to try and run. It’ll find you anyway.

As a child, you used to beg and plead with your parents to let you sleep with the lights on. The night hid things. It made everything, even yourself unrecognizable. To you being in the dark was chaos. It was being abducted and held hostage by the void itself.

When you see those eyes stare at you all those years later, you think about your intrinsic childhood fear.

Child you had a point.

Yoongi lays your finished plate of food down in front of you.

In that second, you get a good look at his eyes.

They’re the same.

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quitealotofsodapop · 3 months

Note

So Mk gets surprise eggo because of paint and confined space and lack of food? Imagine that he has no idea what’s wrong with him, he goes to Lao Tzu, and when Lao Tzu goes “congrats on the baby” Everyone just kinda stops.

And Mk bursts into tears so loudly that all of heaven can hear. He’s all “I can’t have a baby, it’s too dangerous!” And “I’m not ready!” Pigsy and Wukong are trying to comfort him, and the poor boys is just a sobbing mess.

And Lao Tzu is just standing there like “?????”

Sorry MK XD You're getting Egged

Bonus Anon asks:

Referencing this post where someone pointed out that MK could theoretically create a Stone Egg + the sequel that pointed out that he'd most likely do it on accident.

I could see this most likely happening in the Canon! verse since I bet the other au MK's would be more wary of Stone Egg mishaps. But I could 100% see it happening in the SlowBoiled au since that causes more drama.

And as much as I love the idea of MK becoming *ahem* egg'd as the result of a bad guy's plans or a huge catarosphe, I think it would fit more if MK did it completely on accident.

So the idea:

Post S3 MK decides that he needs some "Me time" and takes a break from work and training after the whole "Saving the world from a bone demon"-thing. He just needs some time to shut off completely from his responsibilities in the city. His friends understand and wish him well, even though they're worried since MK won't tell him *Where* he's taking a break to.

"Where" turns out to be a cool cave-let MK found while exploring FFM during S2 with no Monkey King to hover over him. Its quiet, it's secluded, its completely off-grid... But MK just can't relax. His brain is all busy, and everytime he sleeps he sees Her.

So he starts painting. And drawing. And using charcoal. Maybe a little rough pottery with the muddy clay-like stuff in the water? And soon enough he's looking like his Artist Clone with how caked in material he is.

In liu of going to sleep and risking terrible bone demon nightmares, MK meditates like how he saw the Monkey King do. In these moments his thoughts wander into deep, dark teritory. Real "call of the void"-type of thoughts.... hey should he eat something? It's been... oh gosh Pigsy's gonna killl him if he doesn't at least text to tell him how his sabbatical is going.

After his inpromtu vacation is up, MK feels... really gross? Maybe thats cus he hasn't really washed or slept or ate, or spoken to anyone in all that time. Weird.

Pigsy asks him how long it's been since MK last ate a full meal, and huffs with disappointment at his nervous laugh before pouring his son a bowl of noodles.

Bouts of nausea and dizziness follow MK everywhere afterwards. He had no idea why - paint fumes maybe? Did some toxic chemical seep into his skin? Did he get sick somehow from isolating himself in that cave? Is that Jin and Yin trying to take over the city?

At somepoint in the utter chaos of S4 likely as the rest of the gang are recieving training from Subodhi; a certain alchemist meets MK to whisper a few questions into his ear.

Lao Tzu: "I was told that you've been experiencing extreme power fluctuations for the last few weeks. May I run a few test to rule out any abnormalities?"

MK: "Oh cool, no probs! Just don't put me in that furnace thing-y."

(*a few tests later*)

Lao Tzu: "Ok great news, it's not a curse or medical problem."

MK: "Phew! Then why is my body feels like its "glitching" all the time?"

Lao Tzu: "Thats a decaying glamour spell. Its likely that you had one affixed to you shortly before you were given up by your creators."

MK: "Glamour spell...? Wait, then what about my powers wigging out?"

Lao Tzu: "Oh thats easy. You're just pregnant."

MK (has not Done the Do): "What!?"

Mere seconds after Lao Tzu gives the diagnosis - MK just starts bawling.

He doesn't want this! Not now! He does want to have kid while all This is going on! The world might be ending for Buddha's sake!

MK is having a million panic attacks rn. He wants to have kids, so many, but only in the *Future*! When he's like semi-retired and has a protege of his own to take over the monkey business- HEY WAIT, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!?!

Subodhi has to drop the big lore that MK is a Stone Monkey - capable of reproducing asexually under extreme circumstances, in order to clear up the whole immaculate conception part.

Then Lao Tzu has to tell MK that the Stone Egg he carries will likely Kill him since he's (mostly) mortal.

MK starts crying before deciding to tackle the issue Later.

Ofc MK simply doesn't want his family to worry about him what with all this Brotherhood stuff going on... so he just keeps quiet for now.

His family are going to find out soon though. And by Guanyin, Pigsy is gonna freak.

Macaque (and later Wukong), just need to sniff MK once after they reunite to notice whats up.

Wukong offers to grab some No-Baby Spring Water immediately if MK doesnt want to keep the Egg. Macaque briefly panics thinking that the kid got knocked up the old-fashioned way... only to panic harder when he and Wukong determine it to be a Solo-Made Stone Egg(!!!). Cue two panicking fellow Stone Monkeys making MK feel even worse about his conflicted feelings on the matter.

Pls add on what you think so far! :3

#MKEgg au #stone egg talk #lmk mk #qi xiaotian #pregnancy tw #stone monkeys #lmk lao tzu #lmk aus #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk pigsy #sun wukong #liu er mihou #six eared macaque

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merao-mariposa · 1 month

Text

Who will you call?

When the end draws near who are you going to call?

The sky is burning and there is nothing to fight for, nothing to fight against because your opponent is invincible, the fear of death swallows you alive but its march is inexorable and you know in your heart that it is all, suddenly your life passes in front of your eyes and you call a name, what is it?

Chayanne!

The little warrior have fought well but it is all for, only at the end can he feel his heart tighten, have he failed? Again? This can't end here he don't want it to end here and suddenly he calls his papa Missa.

Whenever he's not with Tallulah or another egg to protect, I think Chayanne would call Missa.

He is terrified that it is the end of him, they (his family) love him and he knows that there will be no danger for his papá here. He does need consolation, Is it too much to ask?

He is a good boy, a great warrior, and he did try so well. He knows that either of his parents will assure him that he did the best he could. He knows that they will give him soft guarantees that will make the feeling of inadequacy and pain diminish.

But he wants his dad Missa.

He knows he's not thinking, anyone knows that Dad Phil can face any danger better than Missa would.

But he's not being rational, he's being sentimental, he's not being the big brother, he's being the little egg who he knows he is.

He wants the tranquility that Missa can offer with the simple aura; he wants the happy optimism that Missa sticks out like a sore thumb in his gloomy and ominous appearance.

But Chayanne knows better that his father is naive, and so kind that's why he has to protect him! Even though now it seems that he won't be able to.

He doesn't want dad Phil to see him like this almost as much as he longs for his gentle protection and the right words of encouragement from him. Chayanne wonders what would he think of him?

Nothing bad, he would probably be filled with worry, concentrating on speaking sincerely and with his heart in his hand.

Like the last time…

But Chayanne knows deep inside, at his young age that this is the definitive one for him, there will be no another time.

So if he can't have all together, his family (please let the boy have all there he loves them and he needs to see them one last time)

Then he would ask for his father, the man who sang the first song he ever heard in his life, name him, teach him water drops and how to cook, the one who teach him how to turn his violence into something profitable, he wants the man who makes him happy with only his appearances in his life outside of his busy schedule.

He wants, he does need to feel loved and protected like he once did when he was a tiny egg just came to life. Maybe it sounds so childish but a part of him needs to feel like a loved and silly child again.

So this is the end…

Chayanne seeks the comfort that his papá Missa inspires, Oh how he wants to hear him sing one last time…

Tallulah!

Her lungs squeeze painfully in her chest, the chaos around her roars like a thousand beasts indiscriminately that she already has enough pain in his body without having more, there is nowhere to run, can't run, and the name Philza turns to her tongue…

Beyond the first eggs, like Chayanne, that were loved upon arrival, Tallulah arrived with a heavy heart from the beginning.

Spreading her love everywhere as a mere defense against abandonment or at least in part (it was not the intention of the islanders to abandon her, the adoption process was not well done, some with two eggs and others with one, it was not fair for her or hope)

But on the other hand she knew what it was like to not feel the love she saw in others, she strove to give it to everyone to share just what she lacked.

In this context she comes to Philza, holding hands with Missa will not deny that she embedded part of his appearance in herself, so similar; music, ghosts, and even colors.

It was easier to protect herself from the bond that she could have with Chayanne's father if she looked like someone else (even if he was still another of Chayanne's father).

But if there is something that hurt Tallulah, it was loneliness, every bit of it was like returning a little to that Federation attic, alone eating dirt to survive.

Her fate could have been worse than this, that would have been a lonely, tragic ending.

She knows it now but before she wasn't so sure.

A mixture of jealousy and anguish choked in her throat when she saw the other children so… complete and free without having to earn anyone's love /God, she and Missa are so similar, those who say that he is not her father are so wrong.

Then she was struck down by overwhelming guilt because she had someone she had Phil! But Phil is Chayanne's father, not hers.

Never hers.

While all the other children freely adopted these traits of their parents, Tallula is happy to just see herself as her own person because she does not believe that she can bring herself the shame of imitating her loved brother's father.

She will never be able to steal it! Only sometimes it is impossible for her wings to not be blackish or for her hair to be so dark.

They are all she have, all the family she knows and that she can say about them beyond the fact that they love her deeper than she has ever let herself love others.

Words will never be enough to explain how grateful she is to them.

So she expresses it with actions, her flute, flowers, nicknames, always looking for a way to convey her feelings that she does not verbally, to share a little of how happy they make her even with the black cloud hanging over her head.

The black cloud refuses to abandon her, be it the Federation that left her behind, the monster that traumatized the people she loves most in the world, being kidnapped multiple times (isolated for a moment, alone, so alone) and walking through hell.

But they are always there, especially dad Phil!

When they took them back to that dark attic that she thought she would never return to, and when they visited that macabre place called egg island her dad Phil was always there, late sometimes, but always there, always found her.

He managed to pick her up when the code stabbed her and she arrived just in time to pull him out of the water after his (failed) leap of faith.

Could she begin to repay him for all the love and security that he made her feel? Maybe not, but that didn't matter.

Because now he understands that he doesn't have to “pay” or “earn” her father's love, she can simply… have it. To have love, to have a father and to be a daughter without being ashamed or guilt. As Chay once told her; "The more people, the more love to share."

Tallulah has been through terrifying things before, she sees it in how her life flashes before her eyes but she surprises herself that she has peace in this moment because she knows that her dad Phil will arrive, even if it is not to save her, she knows he will be there, He will be there with her and that is more than she could ask for (although she would ask for her entire family to be there)

There are worse ways to die and now she knows it better than dying of hunger in an attic forgotten by God, at least where she is now she knows that she is loved and when the storm passes she will still be loved.

She hopes that dad Phil is proud because she fought so hard and came so far. She knows that he is...

#qsmp #qsmp missa #qsmp tallulah #qsmp philza #death family #qsmp chayanne #qsmp eggs #analisys #deathduo #qsmp deathduo #qsmp angst #ANGST #chayanne and tallulah #qsmp death family

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ryuseibutgayer · 8 months

Note

Yamagishi hurt/comfort maybe 👀,treating his wounds and comforting him after he got bullied or something.

ALSO CAN I BE 🦈 ANON

Hiii! YES YOU CAN ABSOLUTELY BE THE 🦈 ANON! <3 Thank you for stopping by with an asssssk ah! I'm sorry for the late reply 😭 I hardly check this site too much anymore but I'm glad you requested :D I'm so happy to write this for you! I hope this scratches the Yamagishi itch. moment of silence for lacking Mizo Middle content 😔

I'm a little out of practice, so my apologies in advance if this isn't what you'd hoped for

TW: RIP Yamagishi's Left Eye and Cheekbone, Mentions of Bullying, Swearing, and not much else it's just comforting fluffy fluff fluff fluff (also I felt the need to mention a warning for studying for any students who've got shit coming up 🫡 we've all got our own associations with school lmao)

Summary: G/N reader finds Yamagishi after school beat up after a great session of being bullied by the usual delinquents, helps him patch up, and tries to coax him to try and focus more on his goals than status.(Reader, I'm forcing you to walk home from school. You have Yamagishi to accompany you, though :>)

Word Count: ......fuck off

ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴍᴏɴᴇʏ

As per usual, your feet were as tired as your brain. You'd made it to the final minute of your last period, thankfully. And again, as usual, the hallway chaos was to ensure, but you were ready for it because you could walk with your boyfriend to his place for your normal Friday hang-out. Being with your boyfriend Yamagishi after the last hard day of the week was refreshing in its own way, because you were able to soak up the energy you gained from just being around him. He was really a funny kind of partner, but he radiated joy with you nonetheless.

You survived the rush of the halls again this afternoon, so be prepared to see them again next week.

No more schedule, just plain plans. You didn't need to plan much necessarily, either- just deciding whether or not you wanna go out is simple when you live near your boyfriend and friends. After this week, your ears canceled out the sounds of all the screaming kids around you flooding your space and just focused on the low tmp tmp tmps of your shoes. The noise was the only thing you could focus on, and your footsteps followed through with the lead. Tmp tmp tmp tmp tmp until the pavement turned to white, from the school grounds to the sidewalk...to the shoes of your boyfriend.

He shuffled his feet nervously as your eyes traveled up his form to see an anxiously whistling Yamagishi with a bruised face, black eye, and sheepish hands held behind his back. You sighed as he leaned towards your approaching figure, his glasses slid down his nose a bit like the normally do."Heh heh heyy, babe," he greeted and pushed his glasses back up his nose- which you grumpily clamped your hand onto the next second.

"OW!"

Your disappointment was as low as Yamagishi's knees as they leveled with the ledge of the toilet seat in his bathroom, home. "Really, Yamagishi?" You couldn't help but mutter as you bent to reach into the sink cupboards, obtaining his special health kit.

"Come on, don't tell me you're mad," Yamagishi pitched after hearing your mumbles. He DID recognize how bad you feel everything he gets roughed up for being around the wrong delinquents, and he felt a sort if shame he shouldn't. "I'm not mad at you Yama, I'm mad at those fuckin jerks." The thought of those assholes tumbled around your noodle while you wrung out a hot wet rag to clean up his face. "Didn't I tell you to try and keep away from them?"

"I did! I really did try my best y/n, but they're everywhere now," he felt the need to defend himself in the sense of a kid trying to make excuses to their parent. He continued his grumbling- "Those jackets aren't easy to spot 24/7, I've got glasses, cut me some slack..."

"What'd they beat you up for this time?"

"They just wanted some money 'cause they used up their allowances." His head hung a bit low as he recalled why he'd been attacked earlier, which prompted you to raise your hand below his chin.

"Fuck their daddy's money." Who wouldn't spout that on instinct? They fucked up your boy. >:[Your boyfriend couldn't help but snort at the sudden comment and then whince at the solution you'd begun to press against his torn skin. "I mean, it's better than my money."

"Of course," you began to dab the surface of his bruises and scabs on his cheek with ointment before you'd bandage them and snatch a nearby ice-pack to put on the worse side of his face- the one with the black eye. "But I'm extra pissy that they had the audacity to give you that nasty jump the day you had your placement test."

"Riiiight, that test," And all of a sudden, your boyfriend went silent with his bottom lip tucked.

"...........Yama."

"Yyyyyyeeees?"

"....Don't tell me you didn't-"

And then, he caved. "AW CMON! I got beat up and can't even worm my way out of a test? Those guys were real pricks to me, it knocked me down a few notches babe."You could really only sigh and bite your lip as you patched the final scratch. You looked him in his cognac eyes, chewed your cheek and gently patted the last bandage that had been placed on his face.

"I know, and if anyone blames you- even if you blame you for this happening, I'll kick their ass," You felt the need to be aggressively reassuring. "Hey, the next time this happens, I'm gonna bring some friends of mine to deal with them, I'm gonna kiss all of your bruises, just like THIS-" You said with each peck you laid on Yamagishi's cool, bruised cranium, earning a giggle from your boyfriend with each tickle of your lips. "-Take you by the hand to a café at the library, buy us some coffee, and we'll charge right inside to go study. You need to make sure you call me the exact moment when of those shitheads lays their eyes on you, otherwise I can't help you. I wanna be with you in one piece, yknow?"

With your warm smile and bold statements, Yamagishi felt pink flutter to coat over his dark purple and red face, because you weren't someone who called him weak or unmotivated- you supported and showed your love for him, and don't forget even for second how much he takes this to heart.

"....Yeah, I gotcha. I'll try and keep more mind on avoiding them next time, hon." And just like that, your grinning boyfriend was as cheeky as normal- just the way he should be.

"Sorry if you got worried for a little bit there- how about we go cuddle?"

"Mmm, how about study with blankets?" Yamagishi sighed, but he couldn't help smiling. "Sure," he stood up from the seat and took your hand. "Let's go, I'll grab the snacks."

"Yeah alright- and nice try Mr., but you're definitely going to be making up for that text next week."

"Yeah yeah..."

#🦈 anon!#tokyo rev #tokyo revengers x reader #Tokyo revengers #Tokyo revenges scenarios #Tokyo revengers asks #Tokyo revengera x y/n #Tokyo revengers headcanons #Mizo Middle #Mizo Middle five #Tokyo revengers yamagishi #Yamagishi kazushi #Tokyo revenges yamagishi kazushi #Yamagishi fluff #Tokyo revengers fluff #Yamagishi x reader #Yamagishi x y/n #Yamagishi kazushi x reader #Yamagishi kazushi x y/n

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hamsamwich23 · 3 months

Text

Infected Au characters

tw for body horror, gore, death, sickness general horror themes, implied self harm, emetophobia

Mortimer: [Infected, 5th/final stage of infection]

Mortimer was bitten when he was 15 by one of Owens infected coworkers while Owen and the puppets were fighting them and forcing them out of the warehouse. It started off with simple cold and flu symptoms, but within four to five weeks, he was completely mutated and losing sentience. He began to wander around the theatre/auditorium area of the warehouse because he could still recognize it. Unfortunately, the others had to trap him in there completely so he wouldn't escape and infect them next. He's still alive, the others can hear him crying and screaming in pain.

Appearance:

Long white and fluffy (but very dirty and untidy) hair

his teeth have been pulled out (by Mortimer himself), his mouth is constantly dripping with, strangely, black and red ink

his right eye is missing and there is a thin tree branch with white flowers growing out of the socket.

His remaining eye has no pupils. its white and empty.

weeds, thorns and flowers are growing out of scars and wounds (chest, shoulders, arms, and neck) (these injuries are from stage two of the virus)

Pitch black claws

Somehow the mutation gave him legs, they appear to moreso resemble decaying tree trunks, with dying vines wrapped around them, and claws resembling roots. don't let the appearance fool you. he's extremely fast.

fluffy-ish tail! (sort of resembles Twenty's long, thin tail with a fluffy end. Mortimers end is white like his hair)

Owen Gubberson: [Deceased, Died from old age/natural causes]

Owen brought the puppets to life without any issues this time around. They all worked on the show together and it took off swiftly, great reviews and opportunities all around. The puppets loved performing, and they loved working with their father. The show was cancelled in the earlier 2000's when the virus broke out. Owen and the puppets were stuck inside while chaos was everywhere. And they had to fight to protect themselves and their home.

When Mortimer was infected, Owen became devastated. After they trapped him in the theatre, Owen would sit outside and talk to him. Mortimer was always quiet during those times. And it hurt, since part of him was still active and listening to his father.

Appearance:

exact same appearance as canon game Owen except more bruised and more exhausted. He died a peaceful death, as peaceful as it could be anyways.

Riley Ruckus (Uninfected)

Riley is a very smart and talented individual. She would make inventions to make show production easier as well as create interesting experiments to hold when fans would visit them. When the virus broke out, she became determined to find a cure as soon as possible after she horrifically lost Rosco. But without an infected test subject there wasn't much she could work with. The only infected around was Mortimer. However, Owen shut the idea of experimenting on him down immediately, and banned Riley from trying anything with him.

Riley did end up creating Scout after continuing to fail to cure Rosco and bring him back to life. She re-used Rosco's parts as well as newer fabrics and felt and stuffing. Scout was both created to be immune to the virus and the infected and a daughter. However Riley is rather emotionally unavailable as a parent, and she keeps addressing Scout as Rosco...

She ended up making everyone legs (wooden legs) so they could get around much easier. And the closest she's gotten with the infection was reports that using cold medicine could slow down stage 1 symptoms.

Appearance:

Similar to in game Riley. However her jaw hasn't been torn off, it is instead scarred due to her fighting with infecteds and getting extremely physical with violence

Her lab coat is worn improperly, the right sleeve is always bloody and down over her arm, but the left sleeve is rolled up to reveal a nasty bite mark left by Rosco, when she tried to snap him out of his infected mindset. She wasn't infected. But she wishes she had been.

Not only is she neglectful towards Scout, she neglects taking care of her own self. Her hair is always a tangled mess. She doesn't even bother trying to put it up anymore. Her eyes are tear stained with dark circles under them. She's always tired and dizzy, but she's pushing herself to find a cure. If Owens dead, perhaps now she could try using Mortimer..

She wears a locket with the old image of herself and Rosco inside of it, a picture taken by Nick Nack when the show was lively and well. She still mourns him every single day after decades.

Slim body type, she's not eating much....

Nick Nack (Uninfected)

Nick Nack and Daisy are the ones who do most of the supply gathering and fighting off the infected. If either of them go by themselves they need to bring Scout along. Especially Nick.

Nick does his best to help keep everyone alive as well as cheer people up the best he can. But it's so hard to keep going at it when he's also struggling. His brother is infected and partially conscious, their father is now dead, Riley, his twin and best friend, has completely fallen apart and doesn't leave her lab. He worries for her. For everyone. He still does art. But a majority of it is venting pieces to deal with his frustrations and pain. He's like a father figure to Scout and takes care of her for Riley. Has taken care of her for the 18 years Scouts been alive.

Appearance:

Steals a lot of hair products in an attempt to keep his hair neat and fluffy, as well as cosmetics for himself and the others. Just because it's the apocalypse doesn't mean he can't look his best!

Still wears his paint covered jacket with a black tank top underneath, he also wears Rileys goggles that she threw away after Roscos full death.

He also has a keychain of a cat that Mortimer gave him when they were younger clipped onto his shorts

Also wears fingerless gloves, his hands are bruised and cracked.

Sort of muscular body type. He started working out more during the beginning of the outbreak to get stronger.

Daisy Danger: (Uninfected, possibly immune)

Daisy and Nick are the main ones who collect supplies and protect the warehouse. However, Daisy tends to do it more to keep herself busy. As well as cook for everyone and give them good meals, even Mortimer (slips food through a small hole). She's devastated by the loss of Owen and the metaphorical loss of her siblings. She helps Nick take care of Scout as well. She's very busy throughout the day. However this cuts into her sleeping schedule. She's afraid to sleep and wake up to everything completely gone, so she overworks herself day and night.

Daisy seems to be immune, she has been bitten a total of seven times while out on trips, however instead of showing flu symptoms, she ends up vomiting out the venom injected into her. Her body seems to reject it. Riley wonders if it's her danger mode coming into play to work against the virus by making it leave the host....

Appearance:

Same appearance as canon Daisy for the most part. Her hair is messy, but not as neglected as Riley's.

She has three bite marks on her neck, two on her right arm, one on her left wrist, and one on her shoulder.

Instead of wearing her dress from the show, she wears a simple long sleeve turtleneck and (ripped) jeans, they're easier for her to move around in and harder to grab as opposed to the dress. She still wears it at home though. It also covers up the obvious bite marks.

She also carries kitchen knives and rolling pins with her as weapons as well as distractions.

Plus sized body type, as she has in the game

Scout Ruckus (Uninfected/infected?? Immune)

Scout was created by Riley as a test subject to battle the virus by using parts of Rosco. Riley trained and prepared her for what would happen before sending her outside to fight against a few infected. Scout was nearly killed, bitten and injected with venom multiple times, but she survived. She was very sick but she survived.

Scout grew to despise and fear Riley due to the experiments and her neglect. She stays with Nick and Daisy most of the time. But when everyone's asleep, she sneaks inside of the theatre and visits her poor uncle.

She wants to move out if things ever return back to normal. But it's been years, if things weren't already fixed, there doesn't seem to be a point in holding onto hope....

Appearance:

Similar to in game Scout. Instead of having pigtails, she cut a majority of her hair off to make it harder to grab. It's short and fluffy now.

She has Rosco's ears and tail, significantly shrunken down to fit her body. (Rosco was huge)

Her mouth is filled with sharp teeth, she's able to eat the infected in desperate times, or to get rid of their bodies.

She has many bite marks, bruises, stitches and cuts all over her body.

Wears a simple hoodie, sneakers, shorts with leggings, along with fingerless gloves. Both of her hands have clawed fingers instead of the usual, simplified hand puppet hands.

Her legs are plush, unlike the others wooden legs. She wears the leggings to cover up bite wounds.

All of her bite wounds are from outside infected. None of her injuries are caused by Mortimer.

Chubby body type (self projection yaaaaaaaay)

This au is currently set in 2023, three years after Owens death

#anyone is welcome to make fanart btw!!! i love seeing what people make #please don't make ship art of any kf these characters with each other though.#in my aus they're family #hello puppets #the sam rambles!#hello puppets midnightshow #morts infected au #infected au #FINALLYYYYYY

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dailyanarchistposts · 1 month

Text

YOUNG COMRADES,

Our country is passing through a chaos. There is mutual distrust and despair prevailing everywhere. The great leaders have lost faith in the cause and most of them no more enjoy the confidence of the masses. There is no programme and no enthusiasm among the ‘champions’ of Indian independence. There is chaos everywhere. But chaos is inevitable and a necessary phase in the course of making of a nation. It is during such critical periods that the sincerity of the workers is tested, their character built, real programme formed, and then, with a new spirit, new, hopes, new faith and enthusiasm, the work is started. Hence there is nothing to be disgusted of.

We are, however, very fortunate to find ourselves on the threshold of a new era. We no more hear the news of reaching chaos that used to be sung vastly in praise of the British bureaucracy. The historic question “Would you be governed by sword or pen”, no more lies unanswered. Those who put that question to us have themselves answered it. In the words of Lord Birkenhead, “With the sword we won India and with the sword we shall retain it.” Thanks to this candour everything is clear now. After remembering Jallianwala and Manawala outrages it looks absurd to quote that “A good government cannot be a substitute for self-government.” It is self-evident.

A word about the blessings of the British rule in India. Is it necessary to quote the whole volumes of Romesh Chandra Dutt, William Digby and Dadabhai Naoroji in evidence to prove the decline and ruin of Indian industries? Does if require any authorities to prove that India, with the richest soil and mine, is today one of the poorest, that India which could be proud of so glorious a civilisations, is today the most backward country with only 5% literacy? Do not the people know that India has to pay the largest toll of human life with the highest child death rate in the world? The epidemics like plague, cholera, influenza and such other diseases are becoming common day by day. Is it not disgraceful for us to hear again and again that we are not fit for self-government? Is it not really degrading for us, with Guru Govind Singh, Shivaji and Hari Singh as our heroes; to be told that we are incapable of defending ourselves? Alas, we have done little to prove the contrary. Did we not see our trade and commerce being crushed in its very infancy in the first effort of Guru Nanak steamship co-started by Baba Gurdit Singh in 1914; the inhuman treatment meted out to them, far away in Canada, on the way and finally, the bloody reception of those despairing, broken-hearted passengers with valleys of shots at Bajbaj, and what not? Did we not see all this? In India, where for the honour of one Dropadi, the great Mahabharat was fought, dozens of them were ravaged in 1919. They were spit at, in their naked faces. Did we not see all this? Yet, we are content with the existing order of affairs. Is this life worth living?

Does it require any revelation any revelation now to make us realise that we are enslaved and must be free? Shall we wait for an uncertain sage to make us feel that we are an oppressed people? Shall we expectantly wait for divine help or some miracle to deliver us from bondage? Do we not know the fundamental principles of liberty? “Those who want to be free, must themselves strike the blow.” Young men, awake, arise; we have slept too long!

We have appealed to the young only. Because the young bear the most inhuman tortures smilingly and face death without hesitation. Because the young bear the most inhuman tortures smilingly and face death without hesitation. Because the whole history of human progress is written with the blood of young men and young women. And because the reforms are ever made by the vigour, courage, self-sacrifice and emotional conviction of the young men who do not know enough to be afraid and who feel much more than they think.

Were it not the young men of Japan who come forth in hundreds to throw themselves in the ditches to make a dry path to Port Arthur? And Japan is today one of the foremost nations in the world. Were it not the young Polish people who fought again and again and failed, but fought again heroically throughout the last century? And today we see a free Poland. Who freed Italy from the Austrian yoke? Young Italy.

Do you know the wonders worked by the Young Turks? Do you not daily read what the young Chinese are doing? Were it not the young Russians who scarified their lives for Russians emancipation? Throughout the last century hundreds and thousands of them were exiled to Siberia for the mere distribution of socialist pamphlets or, like Dostoyevsky, for merely belonging to socialist debating society. Again and again they faced the storm of oppression. But they did not lose the courage. It were they, the young only, who fought. And everywhere the young can fight without hope, without fear and without hesitation. And we find today in the great Russia, the emancipation of the world.

While, we Indians, what are we doing? A branch of peepal tree is cut and religious feelings of the Hindus are injured. A corner of a paper idol, tazia, of the idol-breaker Mohammedans is broken, and ‘Allah’ gets enraged, who cannot be satisfied with anything less than the blood of the infidel Hindus. Man ought to be attached more importance that the animals and, yet, here in India, they break each other’s heads in the name of ‘sacred animals’. Our vision is circumscribed by…. * thinks in terms of internationalism.

There are many others among us who hide their lethargy under the garb of internationalism. Asked to serve their country they reply: “Oh Sirs, we are cosmopolitans and believe in universal brotherhood. Let us not quarrel with the British. They are our brothers.” A good idea, a beautiful phrase. But they miss its implication. The doctrine of universal brotherhood demands that the exploitation of man by man and nation be nation must be rendered impossible. Equal opportunity to all without any sort of distinction. But British rule in India is a direct negation of all these, and we shall have nothing to do with it.

A world about social servicre here. Many good men think that social service (in the narrow sense, as it is used and under stood in our country) is the panacea to all our ills and the best method of serving the country. Thus we find many ardent youth contending themselves with distributing grain among the poor and nursing the sicks all their life. These men are noble and self-denying but they cannot understand that charity cannot solve the problem of hunger and disease in India and, for that matter, in any other country.

Religious superstitions and bigotry are a great hinderance in our progress. They have proved an obstacle in our way and we must do away with them. “The thing that cannot bear free thought must perish.” There are many other such weakness which we are to overcome. The conservativeness and orthodoxy of the Hindus, extra-territorialism and fanaticism of the Mohammedans and narrow-mindedness of all the communities in general are always exploited by the foreign enemy. Young men with revolutionary zeal from all communities are required for the task.

Having achieved nothing, we are not prepared to sacrifice anything for any achievement; our leaders are fighting amongst themselves to decide what will be the share of each community in the hoped achievement. Simply to conceal their cowardice and lack of spirit of self-sacrifice, they are creating a false issue and screening the real one. These arm-chair politicians have their eyes set on the handful of bones that may be thrown to them, as they hope, by the mighty rulers. That is extremely humiliating. Those who come forth to fight the battle of liberty cannot sit and decide first that after so much sacrifices, so much achievement must be sure and so much share to be divided. Such people never make any sort of sacrifice. We want people who may be prepared to fight without hope, without fear and without hesitation, and who may be willing to die unhonoured, unwept and unsung. Without that spirit we will not be able to fight the great two-fold battle that lies before us – two-fold because of the internal foe, on the one hand, and a foreign enemy, on the other. Our real battle is against our own disabilities which are exploited by the enemy and some of our own people for their selfish motives.

Young Punjabis, the youth of other provinces are working tremendously in their respective spheres. The organisation and awakening displayed by young Bengal on February 3, should serve as an example to us. Our Punjab, despite the greatest amount of sacrifice and suffering to its credit, is discribed as a politically backward province. Why? Because, although it belong to the martial race, we are lacking in organisation and discipline; we who are proud of the ancient University of Texila, today stand badly in need of culture. And a culture requires fine literature which cannot be prepared without a common and well developed language. Alas, we have got none.

While trying to solve the above problem that faces our country, we will also have to prepare the masses to fight the greater battle that lies before us. Our political struggle ‘began just after the great War of Independence of 1857. It has passed through different phases. Along with the advent of the 20th century the British bureaucracy has adopted quite a new policy towards India. They are drawing our bourgeoisie and petty bourgeoisie into their fold by adopting the policy of concessions. Their cause is being made common. The progressive investment of British capital in India will inevitably lead to that end. In the very near future we will find that class and their great leaders having thrown their lot with the foreign rulers. Some round-table conference or any such body will end in a compromise between the two. They will no more be lions and cubs. Even without any conciliation the expected Great War of the entire people will surely thin the ranks of the so-called champions of India independence.

The future programme of preparing the country will begin with the motto: “Revolution by the masses and for the masses.” In other words, Swaraj for the 90%; Swaraj not only attained by the masses but also for the masses. This is a very difficult task. Thought our leaders have offered many suggestion, none had the courage to put forward and carry out successfully and concrete scheme of awakening the masses. Without going into details, we can safely assert that to achieve our object, thousands of our most brilliant young men, like Russian youth, will have to pass their precious lives in village and make the people understand what the Indian revolution would really mean. They must be made to realise that the revolution which is to come will mean more than a change of masters. It will, above all, mean the birth of new order of things, a new state. This is not the work of a day or a year. Decades of matchless self-sacrifice will prepare the masses for the accomplishment of that great work and only the revolutionary young men will be able to do that. A revolutionary does not necessarily mean a man of bombs and revolvers.

The task before the young is hard and their resources are scanty. A great many obstacles are likely to block their way. But the earnestness of the few but sincere can overcome them all. The young must come forth. They must see the hard and difficult path that lies before them, the great tasks they have to perform. They must remember in the heart of hearts that “success is but a chance; sacrifice a law”. Their lives might be the lives of constant failures, even more wretched than those which Guru Govind Singh had to face throughout his life. Even then they must not repent and say, “Oh, it was all an illusion.”

Young men, do not get disheartened when you find such a great battle to fight single-handed, with none to help you. You must realise your own latent strength. Rely on yourselves and success is yours. Remember the words of the great mother of James Garfield which she spoke to her son while sending him away, penniless, helpless and resourceless, to seek his fortune: “Nine times out of ten the best thing that can happen to a young man is to be thrown overboard to swim or sink for himself.” Glory to the mother who said these words and glory to those who will rely on them.

Mazzini, that oracle of Italian regeneration, once said: “All great national movements begin with unknown men of the people without influence, except for the faith and the will that counts neither time nor difficulties.” Let the boat of life weigh another time. Let it set sail in the Great Ocean, and then:

Anchor is in no stagnant shallow. Trust the wide and wonderous sea, Where the tides are fresh for ever, And the mighty currents free. There perchance, O young Columbus, Your new world of truth may be.

Do not hesitate, let not the theory of incarnation haunt your mind and break your courage. Everybody can become great if he strives. Do not forget your own martyrs. Kartar Singh was a young man. Yet, in this teens, when he came forth to serve his country, he ascended the scaffold smiling and echoing “Bande Mataram”. Bhai Balmukund and Awadh Bihari were both quite young when they gave their lives for the cause. They were from amongst you. You must try to become as sincere patriots and as ardent lovers of liberty as they were. Do not lose patience and sense at one time, and hope at another. Try to make stability and determination a second nature to yourselves.

Let then young men think independently, calmly, serenely and patiently. Let them adopt the cause of Indian independence as the sole aim of their lives. Let them stand on their own feet. They must organise themselves free from any influence and refuse to be exploited any more by the hypocrites and insincere people who have nothing in common with them and who always desert the cause at the critical juncture. In all seriousness and sincerity, let them make the triple motto of “service, suffering, sacrifice” their sole guide. Let them remember that “the making of a nation requires self-sacrifice of thousands of obscure men and women who care more for the idea of their country than for their own comfort and interest, than own lives and the lives of those who they love”.

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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 7 months

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I’ve been spending a lot of time in Unfinished Tales lately and always get stuck on Théodred—the uniquely horrifying circumstances of his death, the big brother-little brother bond he had with Éomer, the fact that Éomer doesn’t really get to mourn him in any sense because there is so much other chaos happening. (We’re talking about the book here, where Théodred is much older than Éomer and dies far from home without a funeral. Don’t be fooled by the gif below, which I just had to include as one of the only existing visuals of them together!). So, anyway, I wrote this.

A Life Interrupted

As he approached the door, the twinge in Éomer’s chest slowly increased from the dull ache that had accompanied him everywhere for the last few months to a sharper, more insistent pain. It was finally time to grieve an enormous loss, one that he had so far been unable to really experience in its fullness because of the urgency of other needs, other battles, other losses. But no such distractions remained now, and he was at last ready to reckon with the death of one who had been a brother to him. He turned the knob and entered Théodred’s room.

Everything remained exactly as Théodred had left it, the room frozen in time on that February morning when the prince of Rohan had ridden off toward the fords with his men. Dirty boots sat in a corner, waiting for a spare moment to scrub them free of mud, and a bridle with a snapped noseband rested on a work table, mid-repair. A half empty glass of water sat next to it. Everywhere Éomer turned, there was evidence of a life unexpectedly interrupted, things put on hold in the expectation that they would be taken up again and finished later but now were just collecting dust.

The windowsill was covered with small pots and containers planted with the flowers and herbs that Théodred had always loved to tend, his long, strong fingers just as adept at coaxing life from seeds as they had been at taking lives in battle. No one had watered or pruned the plants in months, and most by now had dried into withered leaves and brown, brittle stems, yet more casualties of the war. Éomer took a pot with a single stalk that somehow still bore a few green shoots and placed it by the door to take with him when he left. He had no particular talent with plants, but he would nurse that little shrub with water, light and fresh soil until it was thriving and would keep it thereafter on the windowsill of his own bedroom for many years.

He came back and sat on the edge of Théodred’s bed. Sleep clothes were slung casually over the tangle of blankets, resting wherever they had fallen when Théodred had dressed on his last morning there. Éomer tried to imagine what Théodred might have been thinking that day as he prepared himself to leave…whether he knew that the first stroke from Isengard was about to fall and that a great battle would be joined. Whether he had thought about the possibility that he would never return to make his bed or care for his plants. He surely could not have expected that every foe on that battlefield would have a single, overriding mission—to kill the heir to the throne of Rohan at all costs—and Éomer shuddered to think of the horror that must have settled over Théodred when he realized that wave after wave of the enemy was bypassing closer, easier targets in order to charge directly and unceasingly at him alone.

This image of Théodred’s terrifying final moments at last brought forth the tears that Éomer had been holding back. He curled up in his cousin’s bed, clutching the sleep clothes to his chest, and sobbed. Without the inhibiting presence of other people, he finally allowed himself to do what he needed—to cry out and to whimper, to heave with wracking, ragged breaths and to lie still, to weep until his eyelashes were heavy with tears and the pillow beneath his face was saturated. He gave himself over entirely to his grief.

When the sobs eventually ran their course, he began to come back to his conscious mind and regain his awareness of his surroundings. He could smell the warm, woody scent of fresh stable hay carried onto the pillow from Théodred’s hair and clothes but mixed with a light, floral fragrance that surely had come from Eadlin, Théodred’s bride to be. Whether she had been here after Théodred was killed or the scent was left over from a distant day when two lovers had spent a lazy morning draped in each other’s arms, Éomer did not know. Eadlin had left Edoras shortly after Théodred’s death to return to her own family in Aldburg, unwilling to remain here where her memories of him were so numerous and vivid.

He turned his head and studied the rows of books that lined a shelf on the far wall. He could read and write in basic Westron, as was required for all members of the royal family, but he had never taken to reading as Théodred had. While Éomer spent much of his free time galloping the fields with Firefoot or trading jokes and stories with Háma, Théodred often was absorbed in a book, and he had acquired many volumes of lore from distant lands, treatises on the plants and animals of Rohan, and works outlining the history of the line of Eorl.

As he scanned the titles, Éomer’s eyes landed on a series of books on the bottom shelf. They were bound differently than the others and bore no identifying marks on the spines beyond handwritten numbers. He stood and walked over to the shelf to pull one out. Flipping it open, he found page after page of Théodred’s sprawling, unruly handwriting with notes and thoughts from days spanning all of the year 3014, five years ago. There were summaries of training exercises, reminders to re-shoe his favorite horse, and updates of news from the East and West Mark, but also fretful concerns for a friend who had recently taken ill, ideas for a birthday present for Éowyn, and sketches of a plan for a new flower garden. One entry from October of that year recounted a recent visit to Aldburg, where he had met a beautiful, witty woman who he could not wait to see again.

Éomer smiled and replaced the volume on the shelf, skimming his hand over the other journals in the series until his fingers rested on the one marked 3002, the year that his parents had died and he and Éowyn had come to live with Théoden and Théodred. He slid it from the shelf and opened it to an entry from just two weeks after his mother’s death.

“My cousins arrived this morning, and it pains me to see them in such a state. Sweet Éowyn cries easily and often (as could only be expected for one so young and so touched by tragedy) but Éomer puts on a brave face and seeks to comfort her as though he has not also just lost everything he knew and loved. Elfhelm’s wife will come for a time to help look after Éowyn, as she is too young to always be in the stables or on the training grounds, but I will try to keep little Éomer by my side as often as I can. He’s a brave boy with a kind heart, and I can already see that one day he will grow into a good man. I hope only that this early misfortune will not mar his chances for the happy and blessed life that he deserves.”

Éomer blinked back more tears. Blessed. Éadig. Yes, he had been blessed. With a happy childhood rescued by Théoden and Théodred from the wreckage of that calamitous year. With a prosperous kingdom that was now his privilege to rule in their stead. With an extraordinary woman who would become his wife and help to extend his family to another generation. Blessed indeed.

He slipped the journal back onto the shelf and walked to the door to pick up his little shrub, his fellow survivor. Then, taking one last look around the room, Éomer Éadig stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

#eomer #theodred #rohirrim #lotr fanfiction #fan fiction #eomer fanfiction #eomer eadig #i’ve got SO MUCH more to say about theodred!

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lewisinho · 1 month

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as the anon that asked for the race list: thank you!

now this is totally up to you if you have the time to spend on this, but this is my first year watching the races, and while I've been doing some background research to get up to speed, there is still a lot i don't know. i trust your judgment so what are some races and/or f1 adjacent things i should look into? i'm going through your McLaren list and have watched the last 4 seasons of dts and the brawn documentary. are there any other books/ documentaries/ races (especially seb's) / old youtube videos that are lost in the void that i should also check out?

again no pressure and thank you!

no problem!

(and btw welcome to f1 and the world of watching some glorified hot wheels every other sunday 😁 it’s great!)

i completely get how daunting it can be as a new fan in the sport. when i was getting back into f1 it also took me some time to get back up to speed with everything, especially all the techy stuff; i honestly learned the most through just watching the races (old and new), bc you get to see all the strategies play out, the pit-stops, the overtakes etc. and the terminology just becomes much easier to understand through sheer exposure. there are also some really cool f1 data analysis blogs you might want to follow on twt/x if you want some more detailed tech analysis and graphs if you’re into that sort of thing: (x)

as for seb, oh there’s a whole arsenal of recs i have!

monza 2008, rise of torro rosso wunderkind; i presume you already know the lore with that one but ig you can never get tired of it.

abu dhabi 2010, world championship no.1 “du bist weltmeister!”

interlagos 2012, the infamous one. this one’s a rollercoaster, chaos everywhere and the manifestation of murphy’s law: anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. amidst a title battle against nando, seb was fighting the weather, bruno senna’s front wing, a damaged side-pod, no radio, and somehow managed to claim p6 to win the championship

malaysia 2013, multi-21 (iconique), he was faster, deal with it. 💅

singapore 2013, domination masterclass from quali to the race. (also just all of his singapore wins...lion of singapore and all that)

india 2013, title no.3 secured, changed tyres on lap 2 and came out p17, was third by only lap 13 and then won the race by nearly 30 seconds. it was also his sixth win in a row. he went on to win three more. speaks for itself. also this:

malaysia 2015, first win with ferrari, can't forget that one, also features sewis’ gay knee-touching on the podium.

germany 2019, CHAOS, in which merc got bewitched by the special livery curse 😅, with crashes, spins, 50-second long pit stops, and also features one of seb’s best drives from p20 -> p2

i also highly recommend watching Floz's fan-made docus on youtube about 'the silver war' (there are also docus for the 2014 and 2015 seasons) as well as the merc v ferrari (lewis vs seb) 2017 fight and 'fight for five' in 2018, they're so much better than dts and actually give a full run-down of what happened during the season, with all the action on-track, with interviews and providing all the context! it's so well-edited as well (you literally feel like you're watching a movie about all of the seasons) and they are just incredibly fun to watch.

in general, i love rewatching races from 2017/18 (literally my comfort seasons), personal favs include spain 2017 (strategy galore and lewis v seb), baku 2017 (for obv reasons), austin 2017; and basically the 2018 season in its entirety...

as for books, there are many driver autobiographies e.g. jb (he’s even got two lmao), mark webbah etc. but i think the best f1 book out there is adrian newey’s memoir ‘how to build a car’ if you want lore + great insight into cars!

i’d also recommend watching some older races (i could do a separate post on which ones are my personal favs) but it’s all up to you in the end! go digging, look around on yt for some highlights and just keep exploring! 🫶💜

#hope this helps!!#sebastian vettel #asks #anon

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yummsyy · 5 days

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Genshin Charachters baking with their S/O (ɔ◔‿◔)ɔ ♥

Characters: Kaveh, Kazuha

Maybe its a bit OOC so i apologize in advance!

also english isnt my first language so be prepared for the mistakes youll find...

Genre: FLUFFFF and a bit of chaos. but mostly fluff :))

ENJOY <3

-Kaveh-

So imagine this. Reader and Kaveh went groceries shopping because they wanted to bake cute heart shaped cookies. Both Kaveh and his girlfriend liked the idea and decided to do it. nothing could go wrong....right?

"ok so we got the flour...the chocolate and...", reader says while looking at the grocery list. She double checked everything and was convinced they had bought everything they needed. "im sure we got everything!" he says with a smile and walked towards the cashier, she followed. as soon as they paid they went to Kavehs place. They talked on the way and shared a lot of laughter together.

"finally were here!", Reader says as she places the ingriedents on the table and soon enought they started to bake together. Everything went smootly with the reader doing it and kaveh helping her get the eggs and so on. Soon they realized the forgot to buy the vanilla extrakt so Reader says "im going to head iver to the super market real quick! dont do anything to the batter without me ok?" she gives hima quick peck on his lips and cheek and heads out. No matter how long Kaveh he is with her, he always ands up getting flustered about the little things. He smiles to himself notnoticing Al Haitham entering the house. Al haitham shoots him a "youre weird" look and decides to sit somewhere near the kitchen to pester him. "Ugh what do you want???" kaveh says a bit annoyed by Al haithams presence. "oh can i not sit here on MY chair kaveh?" , he scoffs but then returns his attention to his book. Kaveh then decided to continue the recipe without you...wich ended up into a very big mess....the batter was well way to dry and there was flour and burned chocolate and eggshells EVERYWHERE. Needless to say when you came there you were sligtly.....very sligthly enraged. "Kaveh....", she says in a low and scary voice. Kaveh knew he was FUCKED.

After you were done arguing wth him he had to clean the kitchen all alone and buy you some cookies and give you cuddles as compensation.

-Kazuha-

Kazuha and you got to meet again after he was away for so long, so you had the idea to bake a cake with him. You guys already had everything at home. Everything went smoothly~

"Kazu how man gramms of sugar do we need?", you say ready to take the measurment. "we need 100 gramms love.",he says in a calm tone. You measure it perfectlx and hand it to him. he gratefully takes the bowl containing the sugar and garcefully gives you a kiss. You were stunned for a second but snapped back to reality. He chuckles as he observes your reaction and finishes the batter rather quickly. "want to taste the batter love?" he says as he swoops some batter on his finger and tastes it. He smiles delighted by the taste and also gave some for her to try. You smile at the taste of it and let out a satisfied humm. "Its delicous Kazu! Youre a great baker!", Kazuha smiles at the compliment and gives her a kiss on the forehead. "lets put this in the oven shall we?", he says while smiling lovingly at her, for a moment you were lost in his eyes but nodded.

After some time Kazuha and you decorated the cake with icing and some cute sprinkles. Once it was finished your cake looked like this.

You guys were very much happy with the result and had some nice tea with the cake while you talked about your future goals. Little did you know Kazuha was staring at you so tenderly and lovingly while you were busy talking.

#genshin impact #genshin #kazuha #kaedahara kazuha #genshin kaveh #kaveh x reader #kazuha x reader #baking #destruction #cake decorating #dessert #drinks #fluff #genshin fluff

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organ-market · 11 months

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Bilingual Cinema: Language and Great Representation in Media

Everything Everywhere, All at Once, 2022

One of my favorite little things about living in such a diverse American city on the West Coast is the multitude of languages flowing in and out of my ears as I commute, people watch, or even sit idly in class. Elderly Asian ladies filling a bus with the sound of Vietnamese chatter or blaring music with lyrics woven in Spanish erupting from a truck zooming down the road. While I am only properly fluent in English, I’ve found beauty in the bilingual streets of my home town and am overjoyed to see this same beauty translated onto the big screen as the movies we produce more closely reflect the diverse cultures present throughout America.

There appears to be a growing trend of bilingual movies which heavily feature multiple languages that are baked into the infrastructure of the dialogue. No singular language takes precedence over any other as languages, dialects, and accents all flow together naturally. Americans who previously incessantly whined about subtitles are now sitting in theaters reading subtitles in The Farewell and Everything Everywhere, All at Once which took home Best Picture at the Oscars earlier this year. These bilingual films continue to push the bar of representation as people of color begin to tell their own stories using their own languages.

Stephanie Hsu in Everything Everywhere All at Once, 2022

The Daniels’ 2022 Chinese-American absurdist amalgamation of wildly varying genres, Everything Everywhere All at Once proudly features English, Mandarin, and Cantonese. The film proudly introduces us to a realistic portrayal of an Asian-American family and coaxes us into their family dynamics and larger than life sci-fi story as the movie branches off into much more imaginative territory.

To those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of watching it, (seriously if you haven’t, go see it) the film follows Evelyn, the mother of a Chinese-American family and the struggling laundromat business she runs with husband Waymond while she attempts to reconnect with her daughter Joy. As an exclusively English speaker so much of the nuance of the film’s use of language goes completely over my head but Youtuber Language & Film has uploaded a concise little video on the film’s clever use of language which I wholeheartedly recommend checking out. If anyone wants a more in depth analysis of language’s role in the film, I’ll put a link down below.

What I particularly love about Everything Everywhere All at Once is how unashamed it is of Evelyn’s immigrant narrative. While Evelyn appears at times to be somewhat insecure about her broken English, the film never once equates intelligence with fluency; a vicious mistake Hollywood frequently makes with stereotypical Asian characters. The reason why myself and so many others connected so deeply with the film is just how honest and grounded the portrayal of this family is. Not once does it flatten the characters to the archetypes we commonly see of Asian characters in media, they aren’t the model minority or even a completely cohesive family unit as divorce looms in the back of Waymond’s mind. Despite the business of life and the film itself you can feel the cluttered love of this family throughout its runtime and I was so glad to have been able to hear the mixture of different languages that just adds to the chaos of the household.

Past Lives, 2023

I left with a well of emotions brewing deep in my gut after finishing a viewing of Celine Song’s Korean-American romantic drama, Past Lives, earlier this week. Beautifully shot and written, the romance between two childhood friends is told throughout decades as Nora Moon and Hae Sung weave in and out of each other’s lives. A mix of Korean and English is used throughout the film as Nora becomes more fluent in English after she emigrates and Hae Sung speaks almost exclusively in Korean. Director Celine Song told Polygon “...she [Nora] sounds like a kid when she speaks Korean — because she emigrated when she was a kid, and she only really speaks to her parents in Korean. So it kind of made sense that she spoke Korean in a childlike way.” Little details like this really flesh out the characters and make them seem real, the same language logic is applied to the whole cast as they each have varying levels of fluency in both Korean and English.

Similar to Everything Everywhere All at Once, the film’s bilingualism is informed by its distinct Asian diaspora and is told through the eyes of Nora Moon who moved to Canada at the age of 12 leaving Hae Sung along with her old name Na Young behind in South Korea. When Hae Sung visits Nora in New York much later in the film, after all those decades Nora notes that Hae Sung has all these “Korean views” on everything and that she somehow feels less Korean and at the same time more Korean while being with him all at the same time.

I felt very deeply connected to Nora in this moment, neither of my parents had ever imbued in me the cultural values of my heritage. I am Vietnamese on my mother’s side and Mexican on my father’s. I find myself feeling self consciously Viet around my Vietnamese friends and self consciously Mexican around my Mexican friends but throughout it all a strange Americanized shame persists within me since my parents have been thoroughly white washed. And although it was a small moment in a nearly 2 hour film, I still can’t stop thinking about that confusing, conflicting feeling Nora described regardless.

Los Espookys, 2019

The wonderfully idiosyncratic, beautifully queer Latino comedy show, Los Espookys has spoken dialogue in both Spanish and English and often goes back and forth between A plots in Spanish and B plots in English. Created by Ana Fabrega, Julio Torres, and Fred Armisen, the show itself is about a couple of friends who decide to follow their passions and start a “horror group” performing various oddball tasks with spooky theming. In one episode they manufacture a sea monster sighting to revive tourism in a coastal beach town, in another they create a monster mascot named Bibi’s to teach an elementary class a school lesson. It is simultaneously hysterical and charmingly strange almost constantly.

Los Espookys main cast of characters consists of proud queer goth Latinos, they’re aware their infatuation with horror is a little weird but they never shy away from that and honestly love that about themselves. The only part of their identities that the main characters have trouble with is getting others around them to accept that strangeness into their lives. The show’s original ambitions were to air on a Spanish-language cable channel but when presented to HBO Latino, the team was offered a chance to bring it to HBO’s main channel to a much wider audience and, like the show’s characters, the creators had to find a way for American audiences to let that strangeness into their living rooms. Dave Itzkoff writes in the NY Times that, “...he [Armisen] wanted to create a Spanish show “that isn’t an explanation of Latino culture, that’s moving past the foreignness of it.””

Watching the show itself really impacted me, not only did my lungs hurt from laughing but being able to laugh along with queer Latino goths who had similar queer experiences as me was a real empowering treat. What struck me most, besides the gags, was just how natural this representation was, there are seamless transitions from the English spoken parts in America or the embassy and the parts in the fictitious Latin American country the show is set in. No member of the cast is reduced to a simple trait based on sexual orientation, race, or any other archetype, there is so much personality and life present in each character. Renaldo for example, is aro ace, loves all things horror, hates when people misspell his name, and is incredibly passionate and caring about his friends. Nobody’s sexual orientation nor accents are the focus of any one joke or define them as individuals, it is an overwhelming uplifting show and the bilingual nature of it is just another proud part of the show’s hand crafted identity.

Sr. Bibi's from Los Espookys, 2019

What I really want to hone in on and celebrate about the appearance of bilingual media is how filled with pride these works are, how lovely it is that the media we consume is starting to better reflect the colors, languages, and cultures that populate the world around us. I really can’t recommend Everything Everywhere All at Once enough but I’m sure almost everyone online has already praised it to the moon. Be sure to catch Past Lives while it’s still in theaters because it is a real treat and one of the best movies so far this year. Los Espookys is a total sleeper hit that I fell in love with from episode 1, if I get at least one more person to watch that show I can die happy. I was tempted to lengthen this post with 2019’s Sound of Metal (which I am a little more critical of) which features American Sign Language but I think I’ll save it for a later post since this one is long enough. If anyone wants to recommend any bilingual pieces of fiction whether it be movies, tv, or even games please, by all means, let me know! I’d love to hear all of your recommendations and opinions, keep it real guys.

-Ghost Emoji 👻

Links and Stuff :P

Language & Film Youtube

Past Lives Polygon Article

NY Times Los Espookys Article

#organmart #om-ghostemoji #writing #personal essay #language #movies #film #movie recommendation #tv recommendations #eeaao #past lives #los espookys

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