I'm So Sorry - Blog Posts
Bro's a simp ‼️ (based off this tumblr post)
Michael Brown Jr. (May 20, 1996 – August 9, 2014)
The second one sparks something
Go check out the fic, it’s heart wrenching
@effable-as-f okay uncalled for XD
Head empty, only birb. Corrupted Revali? Sign me in.
I completely forgot about the black goop- I'll go back and fix it at some point.
I’m finally done!
It took me around three days to do it- It feels a bit off to me, but now it’s finally done!
Im sorry! I’m kind of having an art block/disinterest in Slay the Princess at the moment, but I’m Really in the mood for Cult of the lamb, so here’s my Work in Progress version of Leshy!
Im so sorry-
Holy....😳
Who doesn't like a big king Koopa ❤️
loss of mein liebe | könig x f!reader angst (lowercase intended)
TW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, severe angst, torture, blood, weapons, mentions of sexual assault (does NOT actually occur), NOT CANON AT ALL, NOT EDITED VERY MUCH, written at 3 am so probably incoherant at some points :p
2,000 ish words
it had been two weeks since she had been taken. kidnapped by the russians after a failed mission. neither kortac nor the 141 (who ironically were working together on this mission) had any idea where she could've been. that was until they had received a small parcel (addressed to konig). inside were her bloodied dog tags. konig immediately threw the items across the room and began researching where the package came from until finally, he was zeroed in on the location. somewhere in liski, russia. immediately, he called an order to drop everything to go save his little liebe.
a few days later, he now found himself alone in the basement of the warehouse, while the 141 scouted the rest of the building. konig walked around the dark, dingy spaces, looking for anywhere his little prinzessin could be. the building was suspiciously empty, the 141 reported, but konig was too focused on finding her to notice how strange it was. after stumbling upon a multitude of empty rooms, he finally came to the last room at the end of the basement hallway. peering inside the small window, he spied his liebe.
bloodied. beaten. unconscious.
he kicked the door open, forgetting all protocol. his liebe was more important. not that it was important anyway. other than konig and his princess, the room was empty.
her wrists are bound by rope and tied to the ceiling, caked in blood as they were too tight. a fresh scar dragged from her eyebrow to her cheek, caked with blood. her feet were an inch off the ground as she dangled from her wrists. her clothes were torn and bloody and her hair matted and dirty. she was hardly breathing. a dirty, bloody cloth was stuffed in her mouth, gagging her, perhaps to muffle her screams while she was tortured. a small, broken camera was attached to the corner of the ceiling.
“nicht schlafen, meine prinzessin…” könig murmured softly in german, softly patting her cheek. he felt his whole body tense up as he came near her--but then, he relaxed. noticing her ragged breathing, he cut off the rope with his combat knife.
placing her onto her feet, he held her steady and gently wiped her scars with his gloved hand. “please. open your eyes…” he whispered.
she stirred gently, opening her eyes and seeing konig. but she didn't see konig. she saw another man - coming to torture her. perhaps kill her. from behind the gag in her mouth, she began screaming and crying, the salty tears stinging the scar on her cheek. she kicked at konig, trying to save herself from more pain.
“schatz! it’s me!” könig cried, pulling her into a comforting embrace. “it’s me! i’m here to save you!” könig loosened her gag and gently pulled it from her mouth as her screams continued. “it’s your könig, your darling, your love… I’ve come to save you--” but her screams continued.
“i’m getting you out of here,” he assured, carefully picking her up and cradling her in his arms. “we have to go, my love. we have to go now.” but she still was in hysterics. flailing, screaming, kicking, crying. so hard that an old stab wound on her stomach began bleeding again. so much that her wrists began to drip blood onto the cold concrete floor.
“stop,” he said calmly in german, attempting to silence her by hushing her into his chest. “sweetheart, calm down. i’m here to save you, and you know it. i know it. but i can’t get you out of here unless you keep quiet.” he took his white handkerchief and carefully covered the wound on her stomach, trying to slow the bleeding. “you have to be quiet for me, my beloved, okay? i know you’re scared, i know i’m the last person you’d ever expect to see right now.”
she tries to talk from behind the gag in her mouth but all that can be heard are muffled cries.
“shh,” he repeated in german, shushing her into his chest once more. “my love, you know i’m the only person who could rescue you. you trust me, don’t you? trust that i’ll keep us both safe and that no harm will come to you while i’m here.” könig gently traced her face with his gloved hand. he carefully removed the gag from her mouth. “i need you to be quiet,” he said one last time.
"please… please don't hurt me." she whimpered.
“shh…” he gently shushed her again, using a finger to silence her. “i haven’t come to hurt you--you know that. i would never hurt you, not on purpose. i just need you to stay quiet while i get us out of here, okay, liebeling?” könig glanced to the door of the dingy, dark, dirty cell, and began planning their exit.
"who… who are you. please i want to go home. please i dont know anything" she begged, still not in her right mind.
“ich bin könig,” he said softly in german, placing a protective arm around her as he spoke softly to reassure her of his presence. “i know you’re confused, my love. i know you’re scared, and that you want to go home. and I’m going to take you home to your safe, warm bed, i promise. i just need you to help me out and stay quiet, okay?”
könig gently caressed her cheek, running his hand through her hair before kissing the top of her forehead.
her eyebrows furrowed. no torturer would kiss her forehead. finally, she looks into his eyes.
"k-konig?" she asked, tears streaming down her face as she remembered her beloved. "how did you find me? you have to go! they'll kill you! please! leave me!"
“no,” he whispered firmly, “i’m not leaving you here. you know i’d never leave you here. ich liebe dich. i love you too much to let anything bad happen to you. and you know that.” he stroked her dirty hair. “we’re leaving together,” he continued, “just please stay quiet. i promise you— you’ll be okay.”
and suddenly, an alarm rings out. they know he's here. they knew konig would try to save her.
it was a trap all along. konig's eyes fill with fear. his little liebe begins to cry again.
“scheiße,” könig swore under his breath, hearing the alarm ring out and the clanging of men’s feet as boots rushed towards the door.
he quickly pulled her into a protective embrace, holding her close to him, trying to think of a way out. there was only one exit in the room and only one way out of the dingy basement hallway. in an attempt to quiet her sobs, he put a gentle hand around her mouth.
“just stay silent, princess,” he murmured in her ear while the soldiers rummaged around. “it’s fine… we’ll be fine.” he promised as the sound of kicked-in doors began to grow ever closer.
even with his hand silencing her, another sob rings out.
“Nnein, nein, meine liebe… du tust mir so leid,” he whispered in german. he sighed and hugged her tighter, burying his face into her shoulder. “alles wird gut sein, nur halt ruhig.” he urged, trying to calm her.
könig held her close to him, trying to reassure her that it would be okay, even if it was a lie.
"well, well, well." a voice rang out. they had been found. the leader of the russian military walked in, a smirk on his face. "we knew you'd come for your little liebe konig." he explained as eight men raised their guns towards konig and the love of his life, who was still bleeding and crying in his arms. her tears doubled after realizing they had been caught. they were gonna die. she knew it.
“tch.” könig narrowed his eyes at the smug bastard standing in his way, clutching the love of his life tightly. he wasn’t about to die here, not when so close to his princess. not when she needed him. and he damn well wasn't going to let her die. that was never an option.
“i don’t care how many men you have, you’re going to have to pry my princess from my cold, dead hands,” he sneered, standing tall and pulling the knife from his belt. Two can play that game.
"hm. so be it! MEN! bring me the girl!" he called. four huge men with even bigger guns rushed forward, ripping the girl from konigs arms, pointing their guns at him to make sure he didnt move. konig raised his arms in defeat. one man escorted her back to the russian leader.
"well. it seems you have lost again, konig. it's a shame i have to kill your little princess in front of you. she is quite delicious" the russian man says, sniffing her neck creepily. she lets out another cry. "shut up!" the russian yells and slaps her across the face, splitting her lip and causing her to fall to the floor. he drags her up and holds a knife to her throat. "any last words, konig?"
"nein! nicht meine prinzessin! take me instead!" he snarled, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. he had to get the girl out of this alive. even if he had to die in her place. the russian man simply laughed.
"oh too late, my boy. i might even keep this one for myself. she's so young and easy to break" he licked her neck, causing her to flinch. "i think i want to make this slow and painful. for both of you," he says cockily.
"nein! ich tue alles was du willst! schatz, lass mich die nehmen, bitte!" könig begged in german, looking around at the four men holding guns to him with a pleading expression. he wouldn't die for nothing, not without trying to save her. he had to try.
"maybe i'll make you watch as i take her. and then i'll make you watch as each of my men take her. only when i'm finished, will i make you watch as i slit her pretty throat and watch her bleed out like the swine she is." he spits.
“du verdammte arschgeige!” König swore in a growl, anger flashing across his face. he wouldn’t be powerless against a man who would harm an innocent girl. with his free hand, he threw his knife at the leader, aiming for the throat. the man simply sidesteps and the knife hits the concrete wall instead, clattering to the floor.
the leader laughs at konig's futile attempt. "well, have it your way. men! restrain him! he's going to watch as the life drains from her eyes." the eight men tie konig up, the same way he had found his princess. hands in the air, feet barely touching the ground. no matter how much konig tried, he could not escape.
"bitte, ich bitte dich! ich will sie nicht sterben sehen! ich liebe sie!" in his panic, könig forgot all of his english lessons and reverted back to his mother language in a desperate and emotional tone. He wouldn't let his girl die! könig struggled as the eight men tied him up, gritting his teeth and letting out frustrated growling noises as he tried to escape.
the russian leader only laughs. konig's princess lets a tear drip down her face.
"konig." she calls. he looks at her, his cerulean eyes full of tears. "it's okay konig. it'll be okay." she says with a knife against her throat. she smiles sadly. "i love you. i loev you so much. never forget that." she said trembling.
könig roared, desperately straining against the ropes that tied him up. tears streaked down his face as he watched helplessly.
“don’t talk like that!” könig cried, his voice cracking. "im going to get ou out of here!"
“ws ist nicht zu spät, schatz, ich liebe dich!” he pleaded, shaking violently and pulling desperately at the ropes. “don’t say it’s okay… ich liebe dich noch mehr!”
"say goodbye to your little liebe, konig!" the russian yells. his eight soldiers all release a booming laugh at konig's desperation.
“du verdammter arschgeige!”
könig threw his head back and thrashed wildly against his bonds, his voice growing hoarse and desperate as he yelled at the leader in a fit of rage.
“ich werde dich ficken, und deine verdammte arschgeige!” he roared, spitting as he shouted at the leader.
the russian man only laughs as he presses the blade into her throat harder and drags it swiftly across, cutting into the girl's jugular. he laughs as she holds her throat and blood spills out. he laughs as she drops to the floor, gurgling on her blood. he laughs as the life begins to drain out of her eyes. through all the blood, she looks to konig and lets out a gurgling "i love you." before she stills.
“nein! nein, meine liebe!” König pleaded desperately. "bleib bitte bei mir! ohne dich kann ich das nicht schaffen!"
but it's too late. konig's libeling is gone. the russian men laugh and walk out of the cell, locking it behind them. leaving konig alone with her lifeless body.
a dark, ominous feeling flooded the air and enveloped the room like a fog as if it were the embodiment of the very hopelessness that hung heavy in the air.
könig fell silent, tears freely flowing from his eyes as he looked down at his princess.
his mind went blank as he stood, bound and helpless, next to the body of his love. her dark brown eyes were still open and her blood ran from her mouth, filling the crevice the scar in her cheek had left.
finally, the ropes gave under konig's constant thrashing. immediately, he ran over to his little liebe.
könig held the body of his princess close to him, weeping silently as he cradled her lifeless body in his arms. the loss of his love felt like a stab to the heart, piercing his chest with such an unbearable pain that he thought he was never going to feel anything again. könig's sobbing continued, drowning in grief and sorrow that was as deep as the very oceans.
suddenly, ghost and the rest of the 141 kicked the door down, guns raised only to be met with the scene in front of them. they were too late.
ghost stood in the doorway, his heart dropping at the sight in front of him. "könig." he said, stunned and hurt. könig looked over at ghost with pained, tear-filled eyes, his arms wrapped tightly around the body of his princess, who lay lifeless in his arms.
"she's gone…." konig said, a tear dripping off his chin and landing on her cheek.
ghost walked over quietly , kneeled down next to konig and reached his hand towards her face. konig, thinking he was going to hurt her, pulls out a gun and holds it to ghost's face. "mate…" ghost says sadly. ghost reaches over to the girls face and closes her gentle brown eyes. "look. now she's sleeping." he said softly. the rest of the 141 boys were quiet, faces downcast, unspeaking.
tears filled könig’s eyes as they watched ghost close the girl’s eyes.
“she looks so peaceful…” könig whispered. He continued to hold the body close to him, a part of him not wanting to let go.
“thank you….” he muttered, lowering the gun.
"mates.. we have to go," soap said to ghost and konig. "we don't want to be here when they come back to find konig."
a dark silence filled the air, the only sounds being the soft crying and sobbing of könig.
könig looked up at ghost, his face contorted with anguish and pain as he sniffled, wiping away tear trails with the sleeve of his shirt.
a nod was the only reply könig could give, and he allowed ghost and soap to lead him to the exit.
konig looked back, hoping that maybe the world was playing some cruel joke on him. hoping that his little liebe would put on her perfect smile and jump up saying "just kidding." pull another one of her silly jokes that konig rarely found funny. but she never did. and she never would.
with the weight of a mountain on his shoulders and pit the size of an ocean in his chest, könig followed ghost and soap as they walked out the door and into the night.
the weight of the world felt like it was pushing down on him, threatening to tear him apart. but the weight of the ring box in his pocket seemed infinitely heavier.
könig's world had been shattered by the loss of his princess, and a piece of him died with her. a piece he would never get back.
i am
so sorry?
for my bad writing
for the scenario :)
PLSSS YOU'RE MY 69TH FOLLOWER JSJEVAMAMBDV ( Also Thank you sooo much for that ❤️)
HAH 69 yOu KnOw WhAt ThAt MeAnS- (I love you and your sass thank you for existing 😩❤)
i thought it would be funnier to drop this with no proof but he tweeted this last night and also talked about it in this article from 2015
richard siken admitting to writing johnlock and supernatural fanfiction was not on my 2023 bingo card but like could he drop the ao3
One possibility is:
Exceptional Staircase Contraption Accelerating Less-Abled Townsfolk Onto Ridges
Or Escalator for short :)
Today I begin construction of a motor-driven chain of individually linked steps on a track which cycle on a pair of tracks in order to keep the step tread horizontal. The goal is to improve access to our island's different levels, especially for residents who are disabled or elderly or otherwise have difficulty with the current stone steps.
I have drafted extensive blueprints, but still lack one key element... what should I name this project?
TOTALLY NORMAL POST
I am soup-er sorry 😞
DISCLAIMER
Multishipper here! I also ship GioCrusher and just might mash it all up into a polyamorous thing
Anyways, here’s some art :p
...is that snack named Greg?
Hubs: *watching the last two eps of SUF with me* Wow, Steven is SO annoying this season.
Me: Don't you talk about my son like that! He's trying his best!
Hubs: ...
Hubs: Oh come one, how many moms does this kid have?
Me: LIKE 3/4 OF THE FANBASE ARE HIS MOMS.
Hubs: Greg really gets around, huh?
Me: *leaves room for a snack*
Gojo: I’m gonna go look for Geto today
Yaga: to kill him right?
Gojo: yeah..
* wearing blue lace panties with a matching bra. Dark see through lace stockings under his clothes and has lipstick on *
Gojo: to kill him
Elriel this and gwynriel that…
Naah, after ACOSF l think Nesta deserves at least one replication of that one fantasy (you know the one 🫣
I'm going to be completely honest, Feyd looks like the girl from splice..
okay, so I've been seeing some folks in the RusAme Country Club and Yacht Society say they don't see Ivan and Alfred together romantically nor do they see them having a healthy and/or romantic dynamic at all..... and I'm here to tell you that you are not seeing the VISION!
get a goddamn glass of your finest bourbon and/or vodka and put this record on your turntable, 'cause I'm about to ramble (CW: heavy-handed headcanons lmfao, foking long as hell too)--
Let me put it this way..... these two immortal beings met during a time of revolution and revolt. They met through a plead for help and a petty need to drive a third party crazy, and within that realm, found that they admired each other greatly. They revered their intelligence, their ambitions, their resistance, their people. Both beings were open and excited to learn from each other, and in that excitement, grew fond of each other at breakneck speed.
These two juxtaposed beings became best friends- despite the long distance, despite the difference in linguistics, and were bonded by a love for music, food, culture, and knowledge. They were uña y mugre; inseparable, always writing and visiting whenever possible. These two beings had their own inside jokes, their own gossip, their own humor. They even learned to speak in their respective languages in order to better understand each other!
Through this inexplicable connection, one of these beings is suddenly thrust into a civil war. Is it unlike anything they have experienced in their relatively young life. While others around them stay at a distance, their best friend of some odd years now immediately rushes to their side and helps in every way. They never leave their side, watching them break apart, seeing their health deteriorate, feeling helpless, seeing a flawed side of them like never before. Despite it all, despite the ugly irrational and hurt person they they know now, they care about them so much more. The feeling is mutual, as the war torn being holds nothing but utter appreciation for the other for staying through it all.
Simply knowing they could have ceased to exist with the war only serves to strengthen the bond they have. this transforms into something that takes both of them by surprise-- this deep love overtakes feelings of comradery and now they are just as inseparable, more so than when they were just friends. Now they know words of romance, they tear pages from love stories to send to each other, their embraces last much longer, they often get lost with each other at parties, they wake up later than everyone else. No one knows why. No one knows. These being truly live in their own world of pure, raw, unadulterated love. Their love is passionate, energetic, intense, engulfing, erotic- it's love at its best.
Once again, out of the blue, the climate around them changes. Suddenly, the older being is thrown into a revolutionary war kilometers away from the other. The younger beings' friends and allies disapprove of their alliance. In an unexpected turn, the second being's overseers also disapprove of their alliance as well, because their alliance only makes ridicule of the policies they must now abide by.
Then a world war distracts them from ever solving this issue. Then a second world war. Then a third war, where they are now the main contenders, and are now so apart, they have not seen each other in years. Not one word. They didn't even get to formally finalize their relationship. it just ended. As quick as it had started, now all they feel is anger. Anger that aims at their respective policies, their regressive societies, their ideologies. That anger was not born from those things. The anger stems from unfinished business; no closure, agonizing and guttural heartbreak. The frustration from what was left unsaid is what speaks for them and it comes out in physical brawls, in competitiveness, in slander, in unruly hatred.
Within this cloud of despise, there are glimmers of hope. Elbe Day, Van Cliburn, the space race, the Moscow-Washington hotline, the Olympics, worlds fairs, music, celebrations, US-Soviet soldier reunions, magazines, books, movies, joint ventures: they notice all of it. Slowly but surely that seething hatred just becomes a numb feeling of indifference.
As the decade comes and goes, they are both on separate paths. One being is suffering from socioeconomic and political turmoil, and the other... hates it. Despite the half-century they spent hating each other, seeing them in disarray is unsettling. Something they aren't aware enough to recognize is how much they care. There is care in the fact that instead of feeling schadenfreude of an ex-friend/ex-lover/ex-enemy's plight, they feel upset to see each other a mess. The more well-off person helped the other without a question. Their helping hand wasn't and is not used as artillery, it is just cut-and-dry help.
Now they are acquaintances again. They see each other at conferences. They say 'hello' to each other as they walk by. They share coffee and a cigarette here and there. They banter. Most importantly, they are equally disliked by most. This fact in itself leaves them with a weird thing to relate to. Sometimes it leaves them drinking together, complaining about tedious things others around them don't care for and would laugh at them for complaining about. Through that strange comradery, they find inside jokes, mutual interests, and "bonding time". Their bonding time is often just small talk or getting drunk- but funny thing, it will often push them a bit closer. Sometimes it will lead to a dinner, or a symphonic performance, or may just land them at the other's doorstep. Or in the other being's room. Or their bed. Once. Maybe three, four-- teen times? When did it start up again? Nobody knows. Hell, they don't even know.
What they do know is that when they're around each other, they cannot keep to themselves. They can be themselves. Something about sharing intimacy together is nostalgic in itself, but not only that. It's remembering what each other's favorite color was/is, it's remembering how the other prefers their tea, remembering the curves of their calligraphy, remembering the way they smile, retelling old stories as if they're new-- it's them falling in love, all over again!
Their romance is very unconventional, as they don't choose to label it, but they remain exclusive to each other. When they crave, they run to each other. If they're angry, they run to each other. If they're happy, they run to each other. They still remember their languages, they still have their letters and portraits in a storage unit somewhere, they remember where their hands go during an embrace, they know where to tilt their head during a kiss-- god, they remember everything! All that beautiful, breathtaking romance did not die with the years, it was only stored away. Just now are they allowed to unpackage it together. After years, they are able to talk about what they left behind. About "what if?" Yes, they talk about it inebriated mostly but that's a start! They have so many loose ends with each other, it may take them years to label themselves-- but they do care for each other.
In their own tired, worn, timid way, they show love. They yearn deeply. Much more than they'll ever admit.
I'm not ignoring you, please know that.
I'm not leaving to spite you.
I Leaving for the benefit of MY mental health.
Why does everything I do count as ignoring you when you hate Me?
You agreed with him, but neither of you want to hear me out.
Stop thinking this is about you, it's distracting you from people you like.
What am I supposed to do...
I'm terrified of getting better.
The idea of focusing on myself scares me.
I'm trying so hard to get better but I'm making myself worse.
But fuck it, I'll comfort you.
Even though you're forcing yourself to pretend you like me as though you owe me something for crying while my mom called the cops that night.
Even if I'll never be able to forgive myself for being so fucking selfish.
How dare my mother take me out of school because it's been negatively affecting me and the only reason I even went was to see my friends.
Friends.
The people that hate me.
The people that couldn't care less.
The people that wish I were dead.
Fuck it.
I'll comfort you.
When no else bothers to think about how fucking guilty I feel for even fucking breathing, fuck it.
Fine.
It's not your fault.
You're not alone.
You're not selfish.
I don't hate you.
I thought...
Nevermind.
You deserve to live.
You deserve to be happy.
You deserve good friends.
You don't deserve to have me hanging around and overstating my brief welcome.
I'm sorry for manipulating you into being my friend. God, I'm so sorry.
I want you to forget about me.
I want you to stay with people who help you.
I want you to stop wasting time on me.
I'm a hopeless bitch.
I'm a waste of time.
So stop it.
Please
I'm so sorry.
I should never have been so fucking selfish.
Because I'm not special.
And things won't get better for me.
I deserve the shit they throw.
I deserve to be isolated.
I deserve for them to hate me.
To wish I were dead.
Can't say I blame them.
You can get better.
And I hope you do.
I'm sorry.
It's gonna be a bad day.
I wish I was still sick.
I'm staying home.
It doesn't feel right.
I don't like this.
It doesn't matter.
im so funny
Call me Gallium, Yttrium, Arsenic, Helium, Carbon, and Potassium bc I’m 🏳️🌈 GaY As HeCK 🏳️🌈
you could also replace Hellium with Fluorine and Uranium and it’s still true
im..so out of it. i read the words 'top surgery' and my brain started questioning what on earth the top secret surgery might be
My first try at drawing a portrait like this.
I mean, it could be worse.
But I'm still sorry.
Good thing is, I think I learnt something from this.
I used a reference but it's clear I gave up on the arms and even more on the dress.