I Love You.

“I love you.”

A dying man’s confession of an admission.

The villain clenched their jaw.

“I’m aware.”

A broken laugh escaped the hero’s lips.

“What kind of answer is that?”

The villain pursed their lips.

“The one that keeps me alive.”

The hero reached for their hand. For some reason, the villain let them take it.

“You are alive. But are you living?”

The villain curled the ends of their fingers around the hero’s, just barely.

“I have everything I could possibly want—“

“Except me.”

It sat between them like a terrible truth, a dead body, a broken promise.

Don’t go falling in love with me, the hero had joked amidst battle, sarcasm and flirtations trading between them with their blows. The villain had scoffed.

Don’t overestimate yourself, hero.

They had both failed. They had wonderfully, horribly, failed.

The hero swallowed.

“Everything, except me.”

The villain’s eyes hardened.

“Would you like me to keep you, then? Lock you up in a pretty little cage, as an object of my affection. Is that what you want from me?”

“I would like for you stop pretending this is nothing—“

“Careful, hero. Falling for a monster like me? How masochistic.”

“Stop talking to me like you hate me.”

Unspoken, between them—

You don’t hate me, do you?

Something softened in the villains face.

“You are a weakness, and yet I cannot shake you.”

Tears welled unbidden in the hero’s eyes.

“Please.”

“Loving me will be your downfall,” the villain warned.

“Then down I shall go.”

The villain studied them for a moment, then dropped their hand.

“Down we shall go,” they murmured softly.

Down they went.

i just completed a full rewatch of shera with my bf (yes ironic ik) and i forget how beautiful this show is in terms of writing every time oh my god. like the call backs of promises and the “stay”s and in the failsafe episode where catra begs adora to see and realize that shadowweaver is using her “why cant you see that” as a parallel to the portal dimension when adora begs catra in the same way. these two girls are just so in love with each other and the way they mirror each other in this show is so beautiful. when catra finally admits to being in love with adora and yet again begs her to stay. when adora’s perfect future is just her, catra as her wife and her friends living happily together. i’ll never be able to get over how much they love each other and how amazingly it’s portrayed

No. The fungi don’t need robotics. Stop attempting to name drop things that are irrelevant to the fungal gods. They will lay siege on your home, your family, your mind, and I will laugh as you cry and do the YMCA unwillingly, past the point of vibes and into oblivion.

And then I will eat toast with my funky fresh fungi friends :)

You know, as the concept of “zombifying fungi” becomes more and more popular, I notice it still referred to everywhere as like a “brain parasite.” So I guess a lot of people overlooked or forgot how in 2019 it was discovered that cordyceps and other similar fungal parasites leave the brain and nervous system completely untouched. They only control the muscles. They use chemical signals to make the muscles flex in real time where they want to go :)

YOU think it’s terrifying. I think the fungi would simply make us do a coordinated YMCA dance and then just vibe.

You know, as the concept of “zombifying fungi” becomes more and more popular, I notice it still referred to everywhere as like a “brain parasite.” So I guess a lot of people overlooked or forgot how in 2019 it was discovered that cordyceps and other similar fungal parasites leave the brain and nervous system completely untouched. They only control the muscles. They use chemical signals to make the muscles flex in real time where they want to go :)

Trapped Hero Pt. 2

For the lovely person who asked (you made my day!)

Pt. 1, if anyone wants it.

When the hero woke up, the villain was bandaging their hands.

For a moment, it was simply the soothing smell of numbing cream, the careful glide of fabrics around their fingers.

Their brain, lagging far too many seconds behind, jerked, and they tried to tug their hands from the villain’s grip.

The villain looked up at them, eyes betraying nothing, and continued their work.

Even with the power dampeners, they should have been able to pull free. They hadn’t felt this weak since before their powers had set in. They had been young, five at most when the genetic mutation had finally kicked in. To any of the other families across the city, it would have been heralded as a blessing. To the hero’s, it was a betrayal, made by the hero on purpose.

Never mind that it was their parents DNA.

Never mind that they were a child.

The villain glanced up at them once more, scanning their face, before they softly said “I drugged you.”

The hero blinked, and their head pulsed with pain.

“Why,” their throat cracked so badly, raw and aching, that they stopped.

Why did you drug me?

Why all of this?

And dully, that final question, just a stark, why.

The villain seemed to understand anyways.

“You were hurting yourself.”

They slicked a piece of tape around the hero’s fingers. When the hero struggled to sit up, they pushed them back down with a firm hand to their chest.

A bed. They were on a bed. The loss of their memories, the absence of how they had gotten to this point, was a hole in their rib cage. They hated it. They hated drugs.

After the concoction their mother had fed them throughout their childhood, first to make them normal, then, when that hadn’t worked, to keep them docile, how could they not?

The villain knew that, too. And they had drugged them anyways.

“Stop pretending like you care.” It came out more broken than the hero had wanted it to.

The villain hummed, examining the hero’s hands. After a moment, they tucked them together, lacing a firm hand around the hero’s wrists. Their fingers were warm.

“If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t have locked you in this tower.”

The hero froze. 

The tower. The city. Their city—

The hero bolted upright, and the villain caught them. After a moment, they tucked the hero against their chest, grip tight on their wrists. 

Over the villains shoulder, the edges of the door were chipped, surface smeared with the hero’s blood.

Escape had not come easy. Really, it hadn’t come at all.

The hero shuddered, and the villain rubbed a soothing hand on their back, as if it wasn’t keeping them pinned in some awful version of a hug.

As if this wasn’t another form of a cage.

“The city,” they gasped out, and the villain traced a slow circle on their back.

“Is gone,” the villain supplied.

The hero didn’t realize they were keening until the villain hushed them, low and soothing against their ear.

“It was for your own good, can’t you see that? It was for you.”

If the villain released them, they would see the tears on the hero’s cheek.

They didn’t release them.

“They can’t hurt you any more.”

But that wasn’t true, was it?

The bruises of their parents, the cuts of their siblings and past had twisted in their nightmares for their entire life, long after they were little more than eulogies and grave markers.

They were dead, but the ghosts of them remained.

The city was gone, but the ruins of it weighed heavy on their shoulders anyways.

“You know that isn’t true. Gone doesn’t mean it stops hurting. Gone never means—“

The hero bit back a sob.

The villain carded a hand through their hair.

“No,” the agreed. “Gone does not mean it stops hurting. The ghosts of the past are vicious, aren’t they?”

Their grip tightened in the hero’s hair, to the point of pain.

“With time, I think I can fix that too.”

The hero reeled, shoving against the grip on their wrists, and the villain let them scramble backwards. They slammed into the headboard, shaking like a newborn fawn.

The villain tapped an idle finger. “You saved me, once. You didn’t know who I was, or that I was covered in someone else’s blood as much as my own—you saw me, bloody, bearing a gunshot wound, and tried to help. I could have killed you, but I didn’t. How could I ever hurt someone who radiated such kindness? That’s when I knew you were a blessing on this wretched place. That’s when I knew I was going to save you, no matter the cost. Do you remember that?”

The sickening thing was, they did remember that. They had learned later that there had been dead body ten feet behind the villain. They had learned later that the villain had an extensive record of revenge killings, dating back years. 

But in that moment, it had only been about the person in front of them, covered in blood, with a wound.

So the hero had healed them, their telekinesis rushing over them and adjusting their tousled clothes as they went, until the wound was gone and the blood was half vanished from the villain’s clothes. They hadn’t realized it had been more than the villain’s blood staining their jacket.

When they saw the villain again on the battlefield, they recognized the face, but couldn’t place why.

Now they knew.

“You’re a monster,” the hero spat, and the villain raised a brow, as if it hadn’t hurt them the way the hero wanted.

“Maybe. But at least I’m the monster who covets you.”

“You are no better than anyone who has hurt me—“

At this, the villain jerked forward, grip bruising on the hero’s chin. Their eyes burned with that quiet rage.

After a moment, they smiled, just barely.

“I am not your parents,” they said cruelly,  “drugging you until you were too much of a zombie to be special. I am not your siblings, seeing how long they had to drown you before your powers would lash out. I am not this city, covering you with blood and calling it righteous.”

The hero had stopped breathing.

“Everything I do, I do it to protect you. And if protecting you sometimes means hurting you, then I’ll take the weight of that.”

The villain released them, and stood.

They corners of their smiled smoothed into something pleasant. Fake, like plastic.

When the hero tried to speak, all they could manage was a strangled, “Please.”

The villain tipped their head.

“I will not give you a freedom that will bring you pain.”

“But you’ll give me captivity?”

“This is a blessing. No more pain. No more hurt. No more guilt.”

The hero scoffed, chest tight.

“A life in a cage will never be one without pain.”

The villain narrowed their eyes, but their voice remained soft.

“We’ll see.”

“I hate you.”

The villain nodded.

“Oh, love. I know.”

When the villain left, the hero curled in on themself and tried to pretend they weren’t in their mother’s darkened closet once more.

This time, the hero didn’t bother screaming.

At least the villain caged them out of love, instead of hatred.

Somehow, even with the knowledge that this was some twisted form of protection, the walls still suffocated the hero all the same. 

“I just—I don’t think I love you anymore.”

It hurt—like a thousand suns burning in his core, a million white lies, a rockslide in his gut.

He swallowed, and tears threatened to spring to his eyes.

“What do you mean, you don’t love me. I made myself for you. Is the witty humor not enough anymore? The undying devotion? The kindness, all of it, I did it for you.”

Lila bit her lip.

“I’m sorry.”

“Tell me, did I not change quick enough, or did you change too fast?”

His voice was bitter, a winters cold bite, even to his own ears.

“Matt—“

“It’s Matthew.”

Lila paused.

His scoffed, angrily.

“You don’t love me anymore. I became Matt for you—I created myself around you, built myself upon you. I became the picture you painted in your mind. You can’t say you don’t want it and have it the same.”

A flush rose to her cheeks.

“You’re being ridiculous—“

“You stopped loving me!” He shouted, and after a moment, softer, “how could you not love me?”

A tear slipped down Lila’s cheek.

“You’re perfect. I just—I’m sorry. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t enough. How could it ever be enough? He had taken classes to be with her because she didn’t like to be alone, had started the track to become a vet because she loved animals and wanted to work with the love of her life, hd cut his hair, and changed his posture, had gotten superpowers, had been sexy and cute and smart and kind and wholesome and dorky and funny and yet—

He was perfect. And still, she had stopped loving him.

Somewhere between Matt—Matthew—he had remade himself in the negative space around her, and somehow, as he changed himself, she had changed too.

“I still love you,” he offered weakly, and she turned her head, as if slapped. “I could change—“

“Stop.”

A tear dropped off the end of his chin.

“I’d do it well—“

“Matthew.”

His name, a plea. No more Matt.

Lila had killed him.

Lila sniffed, as if steeling herself, then drew herself up.

She looked him directly in the eye.

“You need to stop changing for others.”

“You liked it when I changed for you,” he murmured, voice raw.

She swallowed.

“That was different.”

“How, Lila. Different because it was you? Because me changing was romantic, not sad, when it was you? God.”

“Matthew—“

“You didn’t love me for me,” he threw an arm out. “You don’t love Matt, and you don’t love whoever I am now.”

Lila closed her eyes.

“I said I was sorry—“

“I became a new person for you, and you relished it, and now you’re sorry?”

She pursed her lips.

“It’s not like that.”

“You know it is.”

And whatever was left of his heart broke.

A match lit itself inside his chest.

Lila opened her mouth, and he cut her off.

“No. Just—stop. Stop apologizing when you aren’t sorry. I am going to go out, and I am going to find someone who loves me, not for Matt, not for Matthew, but for me. And when I do, I am going to love them harder than I have ever loved anyone else. Even you.”

Lila looked like she didn’t know what to say, as if she had expected the collapse but hadn’t expected him to bare his teeth.

“Go.”

When she left, she slammed the door behind her.

Eight months later, he met a girl named Kaylie in a coffee shop.

They ruled the world, together, five years later.