Dont Fight Me - Blog Posts

I am scared and happy at the same time :)

Dafaa spoilers with no context, first edition. And yes, these are about the entire fic, so they could be about anything, lol. Have fun guessing and slowly understanding this!

In case you can't tell what these objects are:

A bandaged hand

Nail polish

Nintendo switch

The "custody of child" meme

A bow tying back hair in a low ponytail

"your honor I would like to plead oopsie-daisies"

A green bow

A sign that says "backstab zone"

A banana muffin

A stack of notebooks

A pride heart

A bowl of kimchi

Cat headband

"someone got tempted by Monokuma's motive of the week" "next week it's popsicles"

Fidget cube

Ballet slippers

09

The Messengers pad through scorched fields, their targets in their view. They, unlike the Shepherd, do not pity the husks nor their stories, they do as told.

Their masks merely accessories to the red beauty, made to contain themselves. Their faces fragile beauty.

Their targets, often unconscious, always receive : you cannot escape from what makes you. They become unaware of the process, shielded from the pain. A mercy.

Over time they begin to forget, it is of no worries, they do not need to remember.

It is easier when they forget.

...

The Messengers return home once the job is done, there is nothing for them there.

08

Although they had no breath they were shallow, pained. Forced to exist between life and death, never to live never to die.

Acceptance was theirs to control.

Acceptance was their only relief.

Acceptance was their freedom, chains.

Acceptance was their order.

To disobey led only to pain. An eternal punishment, the pain of death. To be taunted with the very thing so many of them yearned. Kept on the edge; can see but can't touch.

Cuͬtͣeͯ.

07

Black leaves crumble under guarded claws; bright eyes gaze benevolently.

You feel your soul warm immediately, you feel loved. You feel at home.

No.

You refuse to call this prison your home.

Those kind eyes swell with knowing pity.

She knows. But so do you.

Your rebel act will rot you from within.

Slowly.

Till only a husk remain, another toy, another trophy, left alone, left discarded.

ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴇ,

sᴏ ᴡʜʏ ғɪɢʜᴛ ɪᴛ?

̶W̶̶h̶̶y̶ ̶f̶̶i̶̶g̶̶h̶̶t̶ ̶M̶̶e̶̶?̶

01

The void beckons to the faulted.

News Flash: All my moots and faves are my besties. Fight me if you don't like it, but I love all my moots and faves too much to pick and choose.

Also: the power of friendship (and a whole lotta coffee) will aid my victory. Verbal fight only, physical contact makes me cry.