#and the worst part is I was doing better but then [REDACTED] happened and fucked up my whole eating and sleeping routine

[theteablogger]

Is there by any chance a screenshot of the details of the shaman wizard battle in a better resolution? I cannot make any of it out

Here's a screenshot of another archived version.

In case that doesn't work, here's the full text of the LiveJournal entry in question. m_oquinn is Brittany, who wrote the emails from her and Andy. To avoid confusion, I've put the emails from Brittany and Andy in italics.

28th-Dec-2009 11:32 am

Okay, my friends, here is the sum total of the Astral Undead Shaman Wizard exchange. I am leaving out the contact info and also one entire email that contained extremely specific personal info about Cfc, who is completely innocent of all of this and had no idea this was being done behind her back.

The worst part of this? Cfc has kids, and Andy and company divulged her address and other personal info which should never, ever have been revealed. So that part is left out.

Keep in mind I never bought into this for a second...from my very first response, I was leading them on, for the lulz.

The good stuff is behind the cut. *passes out popcorn* Everything beginning with this > is from me. The others are from m_oquinn and Andy

First: Many weeks ago, I posted about a recurring dream I was having of wandering through the woods. Somehow, that led to this:

Dear [redacted], Look, I know that you were the one to talk to Luvcharlie, AND I know that you did not mean for anything that happened to happen. Someone has been fucking with us. Cfc is under some kind of attack, something is trying to literally eat her kids. She sent message and we didn't get it because we were on road-now when we contact her it is like no one is home. Cheerful, everything is wonderful mode-nothing has been wonderful for ages. there is something big and something dangerous and deadly-You have the capacity and strength and power to do something. We are powerless and have been rung out by trip. Please, this is your dream-the children are in the house in the woods being eaten by monsters-Andy is down and when his shield over those kids break. it. is. over.

> Oh my. > Anything and everything else aside, let's deal with the > important stuff. I can and will help of course. > > I need a general idea of where they are. If you have a pic > you could email that would help. Their names, if you know > them. Anything that would help me zero in on them, > y'know? > I'll do what I can right now, but it won't do much > good without something more specific to work with. > > Please get me whatever info you can asap. > Love you dear, be strong, all will be well. > xoxo > [redacted]

[Way too much personal info, redacted] We will have more info following. The most important thing is to get inside the house so to speak, and distract from the children. Thank you thank you thank you

>working. more info on nature of threat? >please tell andy he can step down and relax, not to burn himself out. i've got some serious >shields started and am trying to target the actual threat, but i can't pinpoint it yet.

Spirit/Astral form of technically dead but v. powerful Seneca Sachem-level shaman, plus allies and minions. I know this sounds crazy, but is true.

>ok. i'm enlisting some help. >do you know why this is happening? who's ultimately behind it? that would help...whoever's >sending the ill will is a tool. i want the source. >something isn't right here. this isn't shamanic energy, but something darker. and there's >only one energy signature, no sign of "allies" or "minions". are you sure of your source? >also, there seems to be a secondary target, but i can't identify it. what's really going on?

A source said that it was above " the wheel" with each spoke a world and the hub a connection place. it was a shaman/wizard cross in late 16th possibly but that has passed from place of dead to something above that. Several targets have been hit so far. Not sure who or what is current secondary. The "allies" seem to have been neutralized by someone from the hub as a favor to Andy.

[At this point, I grew weary of the insanity and decided to go to bed. This was my final reply. I have heard nothing since]

Okay guys, this has been vastly entertaining, but I've had enough. I don't know if you all are serious about all this and therefore either being duped by someone or are in real need of some help, or if you're just trying to draw other people into your little games, but really. This? All of it? A genius level of what-the-fuckery.

Some good lulz, but I like playing in the real world. You've failed your saving throw. Your low charisma stat made this inevitable. Is there a paladin in your party?

Evil twins, IRA, mysterious pasts, Claymore scars, now astral undead wizards? Really? And you all just believe this? Without a second thought? What next, a coma?

Such amazing energy and clear creative talent should be used for something a lot more productive than this nonsense. It's a shame that the talent doesn't seem to be enough.

I'm sorry. I just can't be a part of this drama and lunacy. I have a life, in the real world, and I like it just fine. I hope all of you find the same someday.

#andythanfiction #thanfiction #andrew blake #andy blake #brittany quinn

[neednothavehappenedtobetrue]

okay!

you currently feel like a trapped animal ready to chew your own hand off at the wrist to get free.

but that's not real. it's just a feeling.

(Big Anger and the prospect of estrangement under the cut, metions of rape and suicidality).

on Monday, HR is going to fix your paycheck. if they refuse to make it retroactive, you can loop in L, M, and N and see who they can escalate to. they owe you (redacted) dollars and they will pay you (redacted) dollars or you will quit your job.

if you have to shelve querying for a little while so you can look for a better job, you will not die it will hurt, but it will not kill you.

tomorrow, text Z and get some time on her calendar for Budgeting Round One.

your brain is generating worst-case scenarios and then looping on them for hours at a time. please try to stop doing that.

you will make a budget.if you have to, you will get a new job. this is BIG SCARY but less big scary than just Doing This Forever.

and then you will invite your parents to go to family therapy. if that doesn't work, you will write them a letter. you will say the stuff you need to say so it does not rot inside of your body and make you so sick you die. they will react how they do. maybe you will need to stop talking to them for a week or two. maybe you will have to stop talking to them forever.

your brain is creating an itemized list of scary escalations they could do if you tried to set a boundary with them (driving to your apartment, forcing you to go back to PA with them, etc.) your brain is spending a lot of itself on making disaster plans for emergencies that are, at worst, a year out and, at best, never going to happen.

your brain is scripting what you will tell your brother, your pastor, your aunts and cousins. you do not need to know those things yet.

please get your brain to stop looping and go to sleep.

you are doing this because you are scared. I think you are a little bit scared that the next time your dad snaps at you on the phone, instead of bursting into tears and folding yourself up like an origami swan, you will instead go YOU DON'T GET TO MAKE ME FEEL UNLOVEABLE ANYMORE FUCK YOU FOREVER NEVER SPEAK TO ME AGAIN and you know you can't do that until you can pay your own rent.

I think for part of your brain it would be a relief if they did something totally out of pocket, something you could say to people and they would go 'oh, that's why you don't talk to them anymore, that tracks"

maybe take a break from trying to be grateful it's not worse, grateful that you get to do this on your own timeline, grateful that you can't imagine them doing anything dangerous (apart from the dangerous things they have already done, but those things were neglect-dangerous not abuse-dangerous)

you know, even typing this, that the best-case scenario is to get to a place where you have a sustainable relationship with them. you only want to nuke them from orbit because you feel so trapped and scared.

but maybe just take a little hiatus from gratitude that they didn't/aren't hurting you worse. stop imagining your calmest and most reasonable communication of boundaries in the face of the scariest thing you can imagine them doing. they probably will not do that thing and also there is no legal mandate that you have to be as calm and rational as possible in your maladaptive emergency planning/daydreams.

imagine how it would feel to go "no, fuck you, the ketamine is keeping me from literally dying, I will not stop taking it because I do not wish to literally die. you have done zero things ever to help me in pursuit of not becoming a suicide statistic, even when i was a child and you had an obligation."

imagine how it would feel to go "no, fuck you, I am as loveable as any person who can use a knife properly and I always have been. fuck you for spoon-feeding that garbage to me when I was too young to know better."

"fuck you for preferring shaved leegs with self-harm bandages on them to unshaven legs. your priorities are broken."

"fuck you for every single thing you have ever said about my body and the way I feed it."

"fuck you for every nasty, belittling little remark I am supposed to swallow"

"fuck you for telling me it wasn't rape! you are not the arbiter of that! fuck you for telling me "don't call it that" like my language was the priority when I came to you in pain. your priorities are broken"

"fuck you for brushing me off the first time I tried to tell you I had anxiety. fuck you for convincing me I was lying about having migraines."

"you guys are mean and your priorities are wrong and you did not try very hard to keep me from dying between the ages of 12-18 and you did not have my back when a boy gave me PTSD. you praised that boy for taking such good care of me and you told me "oh, you'll get over it," when I told you he had raped and terrorized me. and you fed me poison that made me grateful for him for a long time before I left."

you might love me, but you sure do treat me like I am hard to love. you do not respect me even a little bit. you are not reliably kind. you do not see me. you refuse to engage with the lived realities of my life. you do not love me in a way that feels like love, now that I have been loved by people who do not prefer a version of me that doesn't exist.

come correct or spend the rest of your life telling people that your daughter was a crazy person who cut you off for no reason. I'm prepared to spend the holidays alone, are you?

you will be able to tell them a version of this in three to eighteen months, depending on how the budgeting and a possible subsequent job hunt go. it will be scary but you will no longer feel like chewing off your own hand every night.

#rape mention for ts #self harm mention #suicidality mention #relitigating my childhood

[hausofanya]

girl ik this is like old news now but im still mad at [redacted] for ruining ur acting debut like. why would he taint ur career like that… still mad to this day.

cléo briefly looks off camera for a moment, her gaze seemingly hardening before she glances back at the screen with a faint smile. “i was crushed by it, too. still am. you don’t really get over.. it.”

“i think what i learned the most is. when a terrible person is drawn to someone they know is doing better than them, they do everything in their power to bring you down to their level. it’s unfortunate, and i curse myself everyday for falling for it despite the warnings i received. i guess i didn’t believe it would happen to me.” cléo shrugs, her shoulders dropping with a sigh. “i should have know he was weird when lani didn’t like him. and lani finds the good in everyone.”

“anyway. enough about him. that part of my life is over. but for the record, it’s fuck seok dowon for real. truly wish nothing but the worst for him. and i hope the people who were hurt by him find peace and security.”

﹫ USER HAUSOFANYA IS NOW LIVE!

#[ instagram. ] #fictional idol community #fictional idol oc #fictional idol addition #fictional kpop community #fictional kpop oc #fictional kpop idol #skz 9th member #skz added member #skz addition #skz female addition

[dandelyle]

this trip might be the legit best thing to ever happen to me in my whole entire life and i say that without a shred of exaggeration or irony.

before: hopelessly depressed, lost, and alone

after: a passion for life hitherto undiscovered

like i wasnt actively suicidal before I left. ever since [redacted] i haven't been able to deal with such thoughts without [redacted] BUT i was terribly depressed and alone. and the worst part was I had no idea how bad off i really was. like i knew it was bad, but i didn't have a clue.

everything is different now. nothing will ever be the same again. and that's exactly what I needed.

i actually have a reason to live now whereas before i just didn't have a reason to not live. i have passion in my life that i don't think I've ever felt before. there's somewhere i fucking belong. i will fight like hell for that because it's literally the only thing that matters.

I'm not saying this to be cheeky or edgy or whatever but I've really been through a lot and i honestly wasn't sure if things could ever get better. like i didn't think a better place really existed. it's hard to see outside your circle when that circle is all you know. but once you expand your horizons, you can see that truly anything is possible. that sounds like a cliche but it's really true and i don't know how else to say it.

i did it. i flew 5,000 miles away from home to a country where i have only studied the language in books and i survived. more than that, bitch i fucking thrived. i have real actual living friends. that's unreal to me. i can't believe it honestly. there's people out there who want to spend time with me. we spent every day together for three weeks and didn't get sick of each other. it's been so long since I last felt that, that i can't even remember how long it's been. at least five years if not more. five years alone is fucking awful and i wouldn't wish it on my worse enemy. there's something to be said there about prison but that's a whole nother can of worms

back to my point. i have friends now and i have photographic proof of it too.

I've fallen in love. like not with a person, but with a place, a culture, and way of life. when i get there, when i stay, i think i can fall in love with life itself. y'all don't live in my head so i can't explain to you how wild that possibility is. but yes, it is a possibility now.

i feel like I'm a pilot in an airplane driving through fog. I know I'm going to fly somewhere beautiful, but right now there is dense fog all around me and i can't see it yet, but i know it's there. I know it's there. until now, i haven't known it was there or where i was going. it was literally just fog and turbulence and i genuinely believed that's all that existed in the world.

i have been searching for this sense of belonging all my life. most people feel it at home, but i never did. it drove me to do some crazy things and to take risks that most people wouldn't take. for example flying alone to spend time with some internet friends. and this isn't even the first time I've done that.

folks, i hope you all get to feel this sensation. and if you've never felt like you don't belong, then i hope you appreciate that and never take it for granted.

if there's someone in your life who makes you feel wanted, appreciated, and seen, you got to be loyal to them because that's truly the only thing that matters. i know I'll never forget the people who made me feel that way. and if you're reading this, you know who you are

#cc.txt #excuse me being a sap lol

[boomerang109]

me: has five days to do assignment

day one: has other assignments to do/deadline is to far away so i don’t care yet/assignment hasn’t actually been posted

day two: i should really do this assignment but i can’t make myself sit down to do it and the professor still hasn’t posted it so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

day three: due to not sleeping, i am physically and mentally unable to do this assignment (a combination of pain, exhaustion, and lack of focus)

day four: (today) i once again did not sleep so my pain has managed to increase exponentially. i have, at 6pm, only just managed to get myself out of bed. i need to do this assignment (and others) but do not know if i will be able to.

day five: that’s tomorrow and the day the assignment is due. here’s hoping i sleep tonight and tomorrow is miraculously the day i can both focus and don’t have excruciating pain 🙂

#everytime i have a headache day like today i am simply blown away by my body’s capacity for pain #like it physically should not be possible to hurt this much #and yet I’m still expected to go about my day as normal cause there’s ‘nothing wrong with me’ #and so I had to attend two classes and work with kids for my job #and then I’ve just been laying in bed and now I’m trying not to cry and I just don’t know what to do #I remembered Advil existed so I took that but it doesn’t usually help anyway. nothing does #and the worst part is I was doing better but then [REDACTED] happened and fucked up my whole eating and sleeping routine #like I can deal with constant pain? like I’m used to that. pain in multiple places? whatever. but just. the stomache plus the leg pain plus #the worst headache you can possibly imagine?? like I literally don’t know how to deal with it #everytime it happens I just lose my mind as if I don’t have this happen all the time. it never gets easier #and I just don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do #and it’s not like I can ask my professor for an extension cause I’m just gonna keep being in pain anyway?? and I’m already behind in all my #classes? and if I can type all this out then I should be able to type about whatever ducking shit I’m supposed to be learning about #but I just hurt so fucking much and I hate it I hate it I hate it #negativity #life of a boomerang #vent #fuck chronic pain and fuck mental illness #I almost did work last night too but then I had to ducking spiral instead cause I’m mentally ill. like how am I supposed to function pls lmk

[rambles-about-minecraft-ocs]

Flower Husbands Arranged Marriage AU

i have been sitting on this esmp au for a while, mostly just talking about it in discord and thinking “man i should write that” while. not writing it. because my attention span is bad. but i wanna share it with the world so im gonna just make a huge post explaining the concept and if anyone’s interested they can shoot me an ask or something!

side note, MASSIVE thank you to my friends on the [REDACTED] server for helping me work some of this stuff out!! i’m not actually sure how many people gave ideas, because a lot of us were talking about it, but i want y’all to know i love and appreciate you guys and wouldn’t have gotten it this far without you 🥺

i know there are a few other flower husbands arranged marriage aus out there but this is my take on it and i love it quite dearly

the very general idea is this:

scott is a king, and he’s like, super pissed at the royals from another kingdom/empire. and they’re like "oh shit, we wont win a fight against that dude, how can we make him like us?" and then turn to him all "heeyyyy...wanna marry our son? would you not declare war on us then?? if you don't want to marry him you can just like...do whatever, we don't care, so long as it pacifies you"

and scott is like "wow, that’s like....super shitty of you. why the fuck would you offer up your own son to a man you know fucking hates your guts. much less imply that you don't even care if i like, kill him? what the fuck. are you fucking insane? you know what, just for that, i will take your son, because i feel like if he stays there he might fucking die when you, i don't know, offer him to the next person you piss off? seriously, you guys are fucked in the head" and then he's like "wait fuck i just agreed to marry a stranger. i don't even know the dude. i don't even know what he looks like. oh this was a terrible idea"

and then jimmy comes and he is, unfortunately or fortunately, very very cute, and sweet, and charming, and scott genuinely Does Not Understand why the guys parents didn't seem to care about him at all but also he’s straddling this line of like "okay, he's hot, i like him, but he married me because he was obligated to, so trying to actually do anything would be taking advantage of him" while also being like "but damn he's really really hot and i really really like him tho-"

meanwhile jimmy is just like. trying to figure out if scott. actually is interested or not because wow is he getting mixed signals, and he was prepared for the worst but scott is actually pretty nice and even if he’s a bit of a smug bastard at times it’s kinda part of his charm-

that’s the very basic setup, more details under the cut so the post doesn’t drag on too long

prince jimmy has awful parents for the sake of the plot. which sucks for him but it’s okay it gets better. but you know who else has awful parents for the sake of the plot?? his older sister, princess lizzie, who ran away a few years back because she couldn’t take them anymore. she didn’t want to leave jimmy behind, but he told her to just get out while she could, and not to worry about him, he could take care of himself. so she did, and became a pirate queen that goes by the alias shadowlady. she and jimmy sort of kept in touch, but they couldn’t be close anymore, not without her getting found and brought back to their parents. they write letters when they can, but it’s a very slow form of communication

when she gets a panicked letter from jimmy informing her that their parents are marrying him off to the king of another kingdom in exchange for peace, with it being heavily implied by their parents that said king could literally just kill jimmy if he wanted if that’s what it took to bring peace, well. lizzie is not happy to head that!! so she goes to put a stop to the wedding

but letters aren’t a great way of sending urgent news, and, well....by the time she hears about it and heads off to save him, the wedding has already happened

meanwhile, back with the flower husbands, jimmy is downright bewildered with the fact that scott is. just kinda leaving him alone? he’s not bothering him, basically said “what’s mine is yours, sorry about all the fuss, uhhhh bye” and went to do politics while trying to give jimmy space. jimmy expected scott to be like...a horrible monster or something because that’s what everyone from his home kingdom seems certain scott is. but no, he’s....actually pretty nice when he’s not ducking away from jimmy out of some sense of guilt. jimmy came here prepared to die for his country, having realized lizzie wouldn't make it in time to save him, but this has gone...fine? scott’s actually a lot nicer to him than his own parents are, even if he mostly just tries to leave jimmy be

so jimmy decides to get to know the guy better, and then start to become friends. most people think that their marriage is purely political, and they don’t really like each other, but actually they find they can get along pretty well, despite their differences in personality. they balance each other out, in a way. so they start to get along, and this causes problems for both of them because before they know it they’re both pining, and both convinced that the other has no romantic interest in them. the marriage was for peace, not for love, so clearly that won’t change no matter how much they’re both starting to wish it would

that’s around when lizzie gets to the kingdom

she starts trying to “kidnap” jimmy in order to save him from his clearly quite evil husband(because, well, he just married her little brother when jimmy didn’t want to marry him, clearly he’s EVIL and it’s totally not that he just make a snap decision to get jimmy out of a bad situation in the fastest way possible as opposed to the best way possible), still going under the moniker of shadowlady. basically she’s acting like some kind of vigilante. she’s basically running around scott’s kingdom acting like zorro while also trying to rescue her brother in ways that make it look like she’s trying to kidnap him(she doesn’t want her identity getting out, and there’s only so much she can do when her hair is naturally pink. she tends to tie it up at the top of her head and wear some sort of hat over it, but even then, sometimes a few strands slip out. “kidnapping” instead of rescuing obfuscates her identity just a little bit more, and she’ll take what she can get)

while doing this, she meets a nobleman named joel, who becomes somewhat enamored with her pretty quickly because omg bamf vigilante lady wants to use HIS manor for a secret base?? of course, she can do what she wants, he certainly won’t stop her!! he has a bit of a conflict of interests here, since he doesn’t particularly want the cool masked vigilante lady to kill scott, like he and the king don’t get along 100% of the time but he knows the guy has been dealing with like 3 different coup attempts lately and scott is definitely a better option for king than the people that keep trying to overthrow him. and he also knows that jimmy has been settling into the kingdom more and more and seems pretty happy these days? he doesn’t know how the two are getting along, exactly, but jimmy certainly doesn’t seem to be in any danger

but also...wow that vigilante lady is smart and pretty and badass....it can’t hurt to help her a LITTLE bit, right? lots of people have tried to kill scott in the past and not succeeded, surely she won’t manage to come any closer!

she will, in fact, come a lot closer than anyone else ever has, which makes joel start to regret his decision making skills

that’s the long and short of this au. there’s more details scattered throughout it, a few scene ideas i have, but this is all i feel like typing up atm. it does have a happy ending for all four of the main characters, because i don’t do sad endings to my aus. im a wimp like that

#flower husbands #jizzie #i HATE joel and lizzie's ship name but also it makes me laugh but also i hate it #empires smp #empires scott #empires jimmy #empires lizzie #empires joel #scott smajor #smajor1995 #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #lizzie ldshadowlady #ldshadowlady #joel smallishbeans #smallishbeans #arranged marriage au

[mrsamaroevans]

YOU ALL OVER ME | ANGEL REYES

Fandom: Mayans M.C.

Pairing: Angel Reyes x the consequences of his bad decisions with Female Reader.

Words: 3,673.

Warnings: Sad and like a bad word. English is not my first language, so, sorry if there are grammar mistakes or if the redaction is poor.

A/N: This is the first thing I finish like in ages! This was not requested but I couldn’t stop listening to You All Over Me by Taylor and this came out. Thank you so much for reading, feedback is well received. *Gif is not mine*

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

“The best and worst day of June was the one that I met you, with your hands in your pockets and your ‘don't you wish you had me’ grin. But I did, so I smiled”

Santo Padre Regional High School.

Those were the words that you read before crossing the door with your mother. You had only one week in Santo Padre and you still had time before the school year begins, but she wanted to have all that ready as soon as possible.

While your mother was making all the paperwork, you were waiting on a bench outside of the office until you got bored. As no one could stop you, you decided to walk around for the facilities of what soon would be your new school. It was smaller than the school you used to go to before moving across the country, but it was okay. Classrooms were big enough, lockers a bit smaller y the patios were open and surrounded by green areas. You weren’t too disgusted about changing school again anymore.

Near the cafetería, was a mural with pictures of the different extracurricular classes and the people who were part of them. The cheerleader’s team looked too pretentious. You hated that cliché, but it was what you felt by just looking at the picture, you could be wrong though. The theatre team looked cool, maybe you’d join them. Then, was the football team.

Guys that looked bigger than what a sixteen-year-old guy should be. One of them proudly carried a big trophy. He had to be the leader, it always is. What was the position they had? You didn’t know, you weren’t too familiar with the terms of the sport.

But that guy in specific caught your attention. It wasn’t because of the trophy he had in his hands or what that meant. He had a beautiful smile, but for some reason, it didn’t look sincere. There was something in his eyes that kept you looking at him. All of him looked happy and proud, but there was something more. Unfortunately, if someone asked you what it was, you wouldn’t know how to explain it. But there was something there.

“You’re new?”

You gave a little jump at the unexpected voice on your side. You turned to your right and you saw him again. The same guy with the trophy in the picture, now in real size at your side.

“I’m gonna be” you nodded and looked back at the mural to see the rest of the teams.

“And, you like what you see?”

That flirty tone in his voice almost made you laugh. You turned to him again and saw that he had a smile that combined with the tone of voice he used and with the question he had made. His hands in his pockets, making his biceps more notorious.

“A little bit, yeah,” you said, willing to not let him intimidate you. And the truth was that you really liked what you were seeing “You are on summer break, right? What are you doing here?”

“I’m gonna do an exam,” he said like he didn’t want to talk much about it, but you didn’t realize it.

“You’re still on finals?” You asked, confused. The first time you noticed in your route was that there were no students or teachers.

“Oh, no… it’s an extraordinary exam. Chemistry” The guy answered as he didn’t care too much that he failed a class. You didn’t know what would be your situation at home if you were in his place.

“So, you’re not good with chemistry, then”

“It all depends on the situation” he smiled.

You kept his gaze for a few seconds. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction to know that the first guy that got close to you in that city had made you shy. But the visual contact didn’t last too long, ‘cause you had to look at the ground for a second.

“What did you say your name was?” You asked, looking back at his face. He had beautiful brown eyes, but you were afraid that if you look at them for too long, he could know all your secrets.

“Angel,” he said and he looked so calm that that frustrated you even more.

“And I’m sure you’re not one”

Angel devilishly grinned and you felt your knees going a little weak. How a guy that you didn’t even know could have that power on you?

“What’s your name?” He asked and when you were about to answer, your phone rang so you lifted your index finger at him to ask for a moment. You took your mother’s call and the first thing she asked was:

“Where did you go?”

“I’m just walking around,” You told her calmly. You felt kinda sad when she told you that you needed to go to the office to sign the institutional regulation. That meant that your conversation with Angel came to an end “Okay... coming” you end the call and as you were placing your phone back into your pocket, you said: “I have to go”

You looked at him for the last time and started to make your way to the office, but you didn’t even give five steps when he spoke again.

“Hey!” He shouted making you turn back to him “You didn’t tell me your name”

“(Y/n)” you smiled and turned around to the way you had ahead.

“I lived, and I learned. Had you, got burned. Held out, and held on, God knows”

All the effort for the first date. The first kiss. The first ‘I love you.' The first time you made love. That day you met his parents and they adopted you into their family right away. All the double dates with his brother and girlfriend. The fairs and festivals. The football matches in which you were the one screaming louder than anyone whenever they made a score. His better grades. The jealousy from both sides. The fights because of the cheerleaders. All those break-ups and comebacks. Those days at the beach. The laughs. The tears. The good and the bad had gone and all because of his insecurities.

How did that happen? With three pictures someone left in your locker.

“What the hell, Angel?” Was the first thing you asked when you confronted him after school.

He saw the pictures and shrugged “You need me to explain it?” Those words had hit you too hard like never before a question had made. Your heart was breaking and it looked like he didn’t care even a little.

“What’s wrong with you?” You asked, not understanding that attitude towards you. He had never talked to you like that.

“Nothing, you’re the one who wants to fight,” He said, turning around to walk to the small desk beside his bed.

“I received pictures of you sleeping with Haley, what were you expecting?” You got close and threw the pictures at his back, they hit him and then fell to the floor. Angel barely looked at them and chuckled.

“It’s not so bad,” he said, turning to you.

“That it’s not so…?” You laughed at what you heard. Angel was a bit distant weeks before you had to go to college to finish your registration, but you never thought something like that could happen “It has to be a joke”

“You left for a week and I had physiology needs”

“Fucking jerk!” You shouted and couldn’t help but push him making him crashed against his desk. Some brushes fell to the floor and the tears in your eyes started to gather. You didn’t want him to see you crying, so you decided it was time to go.

“Everyone told you that but you didn’t want to see it” he aggressively said.

“Well, you got it” you turned to him and shrugged “Another broken heart… you smashed it” your voice trembled with the last words. That seemed to affect him because his hard expression softened for a second “I hope you’re happy”

But Angel wasn’t even close to being happy.

Once you left his room, he sat on the floor and saw the pictures. He ripped them apart while the tears fell from his cheeks. He hated himself.

He was a coward. He couldn’t break up with you, but he couldn’t let you stay with him. You had plans that he didn’t. Your vision of the future didn’t fit with his, and it was because he didn’t have one. He didn’t have plans like you, he wanted to go and take anything that comes his way. You had ambition, you had a plan to make your dreams come true, and him? He didn’t have anything.

To his eyes, you didn’t deserve someone like him.

“I lived, and I learned, and found out what it was to turn around and see, that we were never really meant to be”

Years went by and life changed.

Angel went through something he thought he never would. His mother has ripped away from their lives and that had been a hard blew for him. His little brother was sent to prison y couldn’t help but feel responsible because he made his way to get a gun easier. Ezekiel told him it was for mere protection, but deep down he knew his brother wanted retaliation.

And that made him get life imprisonment for the homicide of a cop.

His relationship with his father became tenser than what already was. But, after all that he had lost, he found a shelter. The club. Mayans MC. Those men went from simple mates to family too quickly.

He had heard from his father that you came back to the city. By that moment you were already done with college and your parents had been —finally— established in Santo Padre. You told him once, that you had fallen in love with the city and that, definitely, you could see your future there. So, when Felipe said that, he didn’t doubt in believing him.

But knowing you came back and seeing you had been so different for him.

He was on his way to the scrapyard in his bike with Coco and Gilly at both of his sides, but they had to stop for gas. Coco was saying something about how much he hated the hot weather and the incensement in the price of gas when a silver jeep parked in the pump in front of his.

Three doors opened. From the driver’s one jumped off a man with braids and sunglasses; he went directly to the pump. From one of the backseats door, as beautiful as he remembered, you went out.

He saw how you fixed your dress and laugh at something someone told you. You were fanning your face with your hands, a sign that you were hot. Then, a couple of seconds later, you took your hair and tied it in a messy bun. The hot air of Santo Padre in summer was excessive.

“We should have closed the windows and put the air conditioner” Angel heard a masculine voice and then he heard your laugh.

“You know that the combination of air conditioner and this weather make me sick, honey”

Honey. Angel hadn’t forgotten how that word sounded coming from your lips, but hearing you say it to another man broke his heart.

A man in a suit that looked to be more expensive than all of the boots Angel had, walked to you. He had a smile when he kissed you and even though he didn’t want to keep watching, for some unknown reason he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“That last house’s not a sign to desist in looking for our home here,” the man told you, taking your hands “We’re gonna find the perfect house or the perfect place to build it”

“I know,” you said and nodded. Your left hand touched his cheek and that was when Angel turned to his bike. The sunrays helped to the gleam of the giant diamond in your finger to not being unnoticed by him.

You were engaged, and you and your fiancé were looking for a house, which meant it wouldn’t take long for you to marry.

“You okay?” Coco asked him. He was pale and it seemed he could faint at any moment. But Angel didn’t answer, he turned to the jeep when the doors got closed instead.

The driver started the engine and that was when your gaze stopped in him.

You looked fine. You looked happy. When your eyes connected with his, you didn’t seem surprised or hurt, or shocked. In fact, he couldn’t decipher what he saw in your eyes.

“You know her?” Gilly asked.

“I used to,” Angel said when he found his voice which wasn’t quickly.

And even though he was hurt for letting you go in the way he did, when he saw you he realized that he had made the right decision. ‘Cause you belong to the world that man in the expensive suit could give you. It was too painful though, to find out —again— that he never really had a chance like that with you.

That night, he required the services of Vicky’s girls and after that, Coco had to drive him to his apartment ‘cause he couldn’t even walk for all the alcohol he drank to cope with the pain.

“So I lied, and I cried, and I watched a part of myself die”

Days after and thanks to el Padrino, he knew who your fiancé was. His name was Miguel Galindo and he was the son of José Galindo, founder of one the most powerful and deadliest cartels in the México-USA border. He also knew that your wedding was set to be in October and that would be in three months.

That day in the gas station wasn’t the last time he saw you. He had seen you in the mall with the first friend you made in Santo Padre. You met in the market and it had been so uncomfortable. There were a lot of people and you had to walk by too close to each other. He also saw you going out of a restaurant with Miguel at your side and once and then you two were in the paper news for going to charity events.

It didn’t matter how many times he saw you at the side of another man, he could never get use to it.

“I know you didn’t want to talk about it at the moment, but… why did you break up?” Felipe asked him. He didn’t more information to know what he meant. Angel had a couple of days going to his parents' house and Felipe knew why.

You had been there on so many occasions and Angel still couldn’t get over you.

“I cheated on her” Angel said “I slept with one of the cheerleaders and I made sure to have evidence. Evidence that I left in her locker”

Felipe sighed and shook his head no “We didn’t raise you like that, Angel”

“I know that” he sounded irritated “But I needed to push her away from me so she could get all the goals she had in life… and it turned out fine. She’s so much better now”

“Did you apologize to her?” His father questioned, hoping to get a positive answer, but when Angel remained silent, he got the answer he didn’t want “You have to do it, Angel. She was and is a great woman, she didn’t deserve that. But at least do it for your mother” Angel turned to his father. There were tears in his eyes at the mention of her “Your mother loved that kid, and she always taught you to apologize when you did something wrong”

Angel nodded and took his gaze up to the ceiling, promising his mother that he would apologize next time he sees you.

A month went by to see you again. A Friday, his father had asked him for help at the butcher shop, so he went out of the clubhouse and when he arrived at the shop, he saw a jeep parked outside and a man waiting by the backseat’s door. For the glass of the shop, he saw his father talking to you. You were smiling and later, your exit coincided with his entrance.

“Sorry,” you said with a small smile and thanked him when Angel stepped aside to let you walk out.

Angel looked at his father and the expression on his face said “Go” so he just nodded got out of the shop.

“Hey, (y/n)” his voice went out less determined than what he wanted, but it worked out to have your attention. The driver had already opened the door for you, but you still turned to him “Can we talk?”

“Uh… I don’t see why” you said.

“Please…” Angel insisted, feeling nervous for the first time in too long.

“Fine” you nodded and made a sign to your driver for him to wait. He took the butcher bag and went to the trunk “What happens?” You asked, giving a few steps towards him.

Angel pointed at the table so you could sit with him, and you did.

“I never apologized for what I did to you,” he said after a few seconds of silence. He saw you sighing and shaking your head.

“Angel…” you began to say, but he interrupted you.

“No, wait… I’m sorry. I truly am and I was in that moment too” he accepted, taking you by surprise ‘cause that day you didn’t see any repentance in him “I was a jerk, you didn’t deserve that and I’m so sorry”

You didn’t know what to say for a moment. Clearly, you had gotten over what happened, but, talking about it only took you to all the pain you felt and the depression you fell into that lasted more than you would have liked.

“Well, thank you for your apologies. I accept them” you finally said and Angel looked relieved with those words “But, don’t worry anymore… it’s been some years and we got over it, right?” You asked with a small smile on your face.

“Yeah…” Angel lied “I think it turned out fine for both of us”

“Yes, everything’s fine now” you repeated “And, well… we’re going to find once and then, the city is too small. Is good that it won’t be uncomfortable next time we cross paths” you smiled once more and stood up “I have to go” Angel accepted that and even though he wanted to make you stay a little bit longer. You stopped and turned to him by yourself “Angel?”

Angel looked up to you, you were closer than what he thought you would “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about your mom,” you said pressing your lips together. When that happened, you called Felipe and Ez and talked to them, but you didn’t dare to talk to Angel.

“Thanks for the flowers” you shook your head no. You sent those flowers because you were in pain for what happened too, not because you wanted to look good before them or for them to thank you afterward.

“I loved her. She was amazing”

Angel smiled, remembering the times when his mother had told him that you were the one and that she would love to have you as a daughter-in-law “She loved you, too. She loved you so much” he admitted.

You smiled and did something that took him by surprise: you hugged him.

Angel reacted in time to hug you back, he did it tighter though, like he didn’t want to let you go again, and the truth was that he didn’t want to.

“Bye,” you said when you got apart, but he couldn’t say anything back. He just looked how you got in the car and how the jeep went away from the shop as he held on to those five seconds that the hug lasted.

The days kept on going until they became weeks and October arrived quicker than Angel imagined. El Padrino was invited to the wedding ‘cause he had been close to your future late father-in-law, so Miguel appreciated him.

Angel had promised himself he wouldn’t go. Being there and see you taking someone else’s name wouldn’t help in anything, but couldn’t contain from doing it. A few minutes after seven p.m, he drove to the church and waited outside. He was in a spot in which people couldn’t see him, but he would see when they go out. In his hands, he had a strip with black and white pictures from one of those machines at fairs. Those were the only pictures he kept after you broke up with him.

In the first one, you were only smiling. In the second, he was kissing you and in the third, you were smiling and showing your left hand in which you had a candy ring that Angel bought for you.

At 7:45 people started to leave the church and it didn’t take too long for you and your now-husband to go out. You looked beautiful. Your smile could light up the whole country, and, the man at your side looked happy too. He should be. Marry you should be enough reasons to be the happiest and luckiest man on the planet.

A tear fell when your husband cupped your face and kissed you. It didn’t matter how happy you looked, Angel couldn’t help but wish to be him taking your hand at that moment. He looked down at the pictures and sighed. He left them in the tree trunk that was being used as his hiding spot and turned to you, one last time.

He still loved you like the first day and he couldn’t deny it, and also couldn’t hide it. He was hoping to find you in another life to make things right.

“Cause no amount of freedom gets you clean. I’ve still got you all over me”

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

#angel reyes #angel reyes drabble #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes gif #Mayans MC #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fic #miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo x oc #miguel galindo fanfiction #miguel galindo imagine #fanfic #fanfiction

[k1rishiki]

i am curious, as someone who’s only exposure to arthurania was reading jane yolen’s young merlin as a child, would you mind saying why hnoc is a bad adaptation? i’m super curious but no worries if not <3

this has been sitting in my inbox for months bc i kept telling myself i needed to write a full essay with proof from medieval lit to make myself feel smarter.  however, since i’ve recently lost all credibility bc i can’t articulate points to save my life, and since i’ve realized that i could answer this in a just a couple paragraphs, now seems like the right time to answer this ask. sorry for the wait.

under a cut bc length

also warnings for mentions of racism bc this is hnoc we're talking abt and sexual assault bc this is med lit we're also talking abt

the basic problems are pendragon polycule itself, the story beats of the album, the fridging and lack of characterization of morgan le fay, the clear influence of pop culture arthuriana, and whatever the fuck happened with gawain/e.

pendragon polycule is... just not a good take.  there’s a bit in the lancelot-grail abt arthur viewing lancelot like a son (and lancelot not giving a shit abt him).  also arthur knew his parents for years before lancelot was even born.  plus lancelot just Doesn’t care abt him and i can’t stress this part enough.  arthur repeatedly tries to have guinnevere killed, mostly in the lancelot-grail, and guinn didn’t really have any say in marrying him bc she was a teenager.  lancelot and guinnevere is a lot better but that’s not saying much.  guinn doesn’t exactly treat lancelot too well... like at all, BUT it’s not intrinsic to their relationship and is completely caused by medieval misogyny and i’m all in favor of modern retellings saying fuck that.  but also lancelot has multiple pseudo-canon boyfriends (this is med lit after all), and one pseudo-canon husband so like... there were better options.  (also lancelot’s husband is basically in a lavender marriage with guinnevere’s maybe girlfriend who most authors just eventually forget abt as the story progresses).

this next one is a problem with a lot of modern arthurian works bc the inclusion of elayne of astolat is too much to ask apparently.  the grail quest isn’t tied to the fall of camelot, it just happens to be one of the last grand adventures the knights of the round table have.  the event that traditionally sets off the fall is the death of the maiden of astolat/the lady of shalott/elayne of escolat/she has a lot of names, her story has a few variations but usually she either is cursed to stay in a tower and weave and only be able to see the outside world through a mirror positioned across from her window, until lancelot rides by and she rushes to see him out of the actual window and her mirror shatters, setting off her death, or she lives with her father and brothers and takes care of lancelot bc he was injured for a time and she gets to go on adventures to find him and she’s friends with gawaine and she dies bc lancelot rejects her and this version’s a lot more fun but also more happens which makes it harder to explain.  the way her story ends however, is that she dies after she makes arrangements for a glorious boat to drift from astolat to camelot carrying nothing but her dead body and a letter explaining that she died of love for lancelot du lac and the court mourns the death of such a beautiful and young maiden (her age varies a lot but i’ve always read her as a young teenager at most).  but the important thing is, camelot is doomed from the moment she washes up on its shore bc she’s an omen of the end and has symbolic meaning and all that, the maiden of astolat washes up on camelot’s shores, the court mourns the loss of a maiden in her prime and she marks the end of camelot’s prime as well, morgan le fay reappears after being presumed dead and warns arthur of guinnevere and lancelot’s affair, aggravaine and modred conspire to bring lancelot and guinnevere’s affair to light, they succeed but lancelot escapes, guinnevere is to be burnt at the stake and lancelot rescues her, killing aggravaine, gaheris and gareth (gawaine’s brothers) in the process, gawaine drags his uncle and camelot to war bc he was driven mad due to the loss of his brothers, lancelot accidentally kills gawaine, his best friend and maybe boyfriend (i have RECEIPTS), and gawaine forgives him on his detahbed while lancelot and guinn rejoin arthur, meanwhile modred, who practically had the throne handed to him, usurps and invites the saxons in, camlann happens, and camelot is destroyed.  no where in there is the grail quest.

morgan le fay is honestly the most questionable part of the album bc there’s not a single text where she dies.  like....  at least with eurydice in udad she died in the original... there’s no basis for morgan dying.  also she is NOT modred’s mother and anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar, she interacts with him once in the vulgate bc she had three of her nephews over and that’s IT.  it’s a horrible take which originated in the mists of avalon by marion zimmer bradley who is an honest to god monster for reasons i don’t want to trigger tag this post for.  also she’s one of the most dynamic and thought-out characters in the entire canon and they just made her a watered down morgause (modred’s actual mother, morgan’s sister, canonical milf)... there was no reason for it to be her apart from the fact that she’s more well known......

pop culture arthuriana is,,, one of my least favorite things.  no, morgan wasn’t modred’s mother, no, morgause wasn’t abusive but her husband sure was implied to be, no, aggravaine didn’t kill his mother, that was gaheris, he loved his mother, you’re only saying that bc he has a reputation as the “evil” orkney, no, the once and future king is not a good descriptor for arthur, stop making me read it, no, morgause wasn’t the one to initiate the thing with arthur resulting in modred, no, lancelot and arthur weren’t friends, no, tristan wasn’t a self-centered asshole, tennyson is a fucking liar, no, galahad didn’t have sex or want to, he’s one of the first ever explicitly asexual characters out there, no, galahad’s conception was NOT consensual, lancelot was tricked, and no, elayne of astolat wasn’t galahad’s mother, she’s implied to be younger than him.  those are just the big glaring ones, but i swear it’s bc of arthuriana’s reputation as a mythology and the connotations belonging to that word (no one true canon (which is true but there are still things that just AREN’T canon, not completely written down, passed by oral tradition) that causes ppl to see mediocre modern texts and go “oh. well this is abt as close to the original as i’m going to get” and don’t bother to look into so much as malory (who i only name bc he’s one of the most well known medieval authors with the most commonly used storylines, don’t read malory kids, he’s a mediocre-at-best writer even by medieval standards).  the big perpetrators of modern arthurian tropes are the books the once and future king by th wh*te, who is a shitty person and lets it bleed into his writing (which isn’t like... nice to read or anything, seriously why do ppl love this book so much it doesn’t have redeeming qualities), and the mists of avalon by marion zimmer bradley (it’s poorly written, the story is a mess, and mzb is honestly a monster and one google search will tell you that), and unfortunately the writings of tennyson, which are mostly good but he clearly didn’t read the povest (a later text that’s also my favorite, known for significantly improving ppl’s opinions on tristan, isolde and co.) before deciding he hated both tristan and isolde and he has HORRIBLE takes on them.  high noon over camelot is SEEPED in pop culture arthuriana and i think it would have been so much better if the band had read so much as a SUMMARY of the events of le morte.  it’s evident in the song “the once and future king” bc it’s,,,, literally named after one of the worst books in existence.  it’s shown in the morgan le fay thing, and it’s shown in the pendragon polycule thing.  and hell, i think you can even explain away the lack of elayne of astolat with pop culture arthuriana, bc ppl have had bad takes on her ever since th wh*te combined her character with that of ela*ne of corbenic, and the band probably went “huh, let’s write lancelot’s abuser out of this” and they would’ve been right to do so if that’s who elayne of astolat was.

the final big issue is gawaine, the closest thing the genre has to a protagonist, he’s pretty much canon bi and, in some texts, arospec, he’s a dashing knight of great reknown and he derails every romance to steal hearts, commit murder, and make out with every knight and lady mentioned.  and in hnoc he’s... racist.  that’s it.  it’s,,, almost completely unfounded by the arthurian canon and shows a major misunderstanding of his motivations (like i said earlier, he wants to avenge his brothers bc there’s a reoccuring motif of how much the orkneys value family).  i say almost bc in one text it’s his motivations for killing palomydes but i’ve never heard it mentioned by name bc that’s just what it’s known for.  most arthuriana fans just look away from it except when critiquing hnoc but that one text is an outlier, shouldn’t be counted, and i highly doubt the mechs made hnoc gawain how he is bc they found this text.  it’s just a bad text.

hnoc has,,, quite a few more minor issues, such as villainized ladies of the lake (their ONLY crimes were sealing away merlin bc he tried to assault teenage nimue/ninniane (proto-nimue/vivianne from the vulgate), and that one time vivviane/ninniane kidnapped adopted baby lancelot), assigning brain to merlin (y’know,,, the predator who helped arrange the [redacted] of arthur’s mother and tried to assault a teenager,,,) although merlin is portrayed in a positive light throughout modern arthuriana so i don’t think they knew, giving a song to pellinore, who my perception of has been forever altered bc i was introduced to him through malory and the explanation of torre’s conception, which you can just look up “sir torre arthurian” to find out abt if you can’t just Guess, if they wanted a song abt the questing beast palomydes was Right There AND has been associated with the questing beast for longer, but once again i don’t think they knew.

also namedropping a bunch of knights in the fiction is... it Suggests a bigger world full of all these other stories but they just don’t work bc the world of hnoc wasn’t designed in a way where the appearance of half these characters would make sense.  like,, tristan is referenced as dying in the grail quest in the same sentence as bedevere (one of the characters who is known for almost always surviving), but tristan Isn’t one of the knights who dies on the grail quest, his possible deaths (ignoring the potentially happy ending of the povest for a second) are either being murdered by his uncle, king mark (bc mark married tristan’s gf to try and get tristan killed and also to spite him), bc he was driven into a fury bc of tristan and isolde’s affair, or he’s injured and only isolde (the best healer in the world) can save him so he sends for her and if the ship he sent for her is supposed to fly white sails if she’s there, or black sails if she’s not, and the ship flies white sails but his wife (also named isolde) says it’s black sails (the why depends but usually comes down to jealousy), and so he gives up bc he thinks all hope is lost and usually succumbs to his injuries, either way isolde dies of a broken heart over his body.  there’s no way for the tristan and isolde story to play out like it’s supposed to in the world of hnoc, just as there’s no way for any story with gawaine (and Oh Boy are there a lot of stories with gawaine) or pretty much anyone else, without severely altering the canon.

of course, there are still parts of hnoc i like a lot, most of the music i adore and i just like the idea of space cowboys and the secret good hnoc that lives in my head.  and it has one of my favorite characterizations of galahad, even though galahad hnoc is nothing like galahad arthuriana.  it’s not GOOD but i like it and it’s fun to turn my brain off too, and i’ll always value it as my introduction to arthuriana.

also there are modern arthurian tropes i do like such as characters being genre-savvy/knowing they’re fictional/knowing they’ve done this before (which hnoc does wonderfully!) and bedevere-as-the-storyteller (everyone say thank you lord tennyson).

WOW that was longer than expected, i feel very passionately abt this, when i was planning to write a fully sourced essay i meant to include a bit at the bottom with recommendations to get into better arthuriana and i think i’ll keep that in this post.

if you like hnoc for the arthurian music i’d like to suggest heather dale’s arthurian music to you, she does occasionally fall into the trap of modern arthuriana (some parts of lancelot and arthur being close, morgan as modred’s mother), sometimes she’s just wrong (galahad at lancelot’s trial, a lot of tristan and isolde), and her stuff is kinda straightwashed sometimes (sir gawain and the green knight, for example) but i’d be lying if it wasn’t catchy, and it’s not quite as bad as hnoc adaptation-wise.  culwch and olwen is pretty accurate (albeit abridged bc culwch and olwen has SO many tangents), as is lily maid (it’s abt elayne of astolat!).

if you liked hnoc for king arthur... in space! then may i recommend to you my own fanfic? it's not posted yet but the second i finish writing the first chapter i'm going to make a Big Deal out of it that'll be impossible to miss!

if you want to learn abt arthuriana through tumblr-osmosis like i did at first, i’d like to recommend the love of my life @acegalahads, first and foremost (it’s me on a sideblog i’m just obsessed with myself), and i can’t recommend my arthuriana mutuals over there, @/gringolet, @/merlinenthusiast, @/jcbookworm, @/elayneofshalott, and @/elaineofascolat (the elayne urls have been popular recently), also i know for a fact that my mutual-in-law, @/itonje makes great arthuriana posts that i look forwards to whenever i open the tag.

here are a few good reference posts, a quick guide to the characters, a guide to characters of color, and a much more comprehensive intro to arthuriana post with even more texts linked to it.

if you want to ease into med lit, i’d like to introduce you to pre-raphaelite poetry, alfred lord tennyson and william morris are my favorites, although tennyson can’t be trusted with tristan and isolde.  the poem the lady of shalott is basically a rite of passage for arthuriana fans, although when it comes to tennyson’s writings abt elayne of astolat, i prefer lancelot and elaine, which is part of his much larger story, idylls of the king.  for morris, don’t trust what he says abt aggravaine killing his mother, but my favorites of his are sir galahad, a christmas mystery, which sounds like a shitty disney sequel, and palomyde’s quest, which i blame for my love of palomydes (that and the one bit of the povest where he asks tristan to be his greatest enemy and that he wants nothing more, gay ppl,,,,).

if you want to read abt lancelot and his husband, there’s the lancelot-grail cycle, which i believe was taken off of archive dot org and i think i found it on @/tobeisexhausting’s blog but don’t quote me on that.

the povest, which was a religious experience for me and i can’t reccomend enough if you want to like tristan and isolde, is here, i don’t know who scanned it but i think i found it on @/lanzelet’s blog

the dutch texts are just good in general, here’s a link to their section of a(n unfinished) site for hosting various texts by my former mutual @/reynier (who’s no longer on tumblr).  i’d like to recommend lancelot and the white hart specifically bc it’s mainly just just gawaine being gay for lancelot.

if you want older works, here’s my scan of the history of the kings of britain, and here’s culwch and olwen and pa gur.

oh wow this is even longer than i thought it would be so i’m going to wrap this up by saying that i always love to talk abt arthuriana more than anything if you have any questions or just are curious!

#med lit on main #asks #hnoc #the mechs #romeo.txt

[unstoppableforcce]

dark side

—CHAPTER ONE: trust

pairing: Javier Peña x reader

prologue | next part | masterlist

a/n: I’m kinda in love with where I have this heading, I knocked this part out in like two hours and surprised myself so I hope y’all enjoy!! thanks for the incredible feedback!!

It was just a handshake, right? It was nothing he hadn’t done a thousand times before but...

But all he could think about was how your hands felt cradled in a desperate grip around his neck as he thrusted up into you no less than seven hours before. And as he took your hand as professionally as he could, all he could feel were the callouses that lined your skin which he had been so quick to ignore last night.

The palm of your hand was curved to the hilt of a pistol, not unlike his. The tips hardened against the back of his hand, just as he was sure his were rough against the back of his own. And it was just a handshake but his mind was nowhere near where it needed to be for something as simple as a handshake.

He could see it in your eyes too, but both of you kept your mouths shut as a Stechner lingered alongside you, and when you released his hand, Stechner laid a protective arm over your shoulders.

The same shoulders he buried his face into as he lost himself in your body—

“She’s one of my new transfers, in just after Escobar was killed.” Stechner continued to introduce, as if there was nothing between the two of you. He gave your name as if Javi hadn’t read it off your badge just hours ago, standing nearly naked in your kitchen.

Stechner was building off a clean slate and the two of you just kept your mouths shut as to why he couldn’t be more wrong.

No, he wasn’t going to do that. Instead, he played along. “Right, welcome to Colombia.”

“Thanks.” The English sounded wrong on your tongue when he had only heard you speak Spanish in the bar. It had sounded like such a natural accent, he didn’t even second guess it...

Spy. You were a spy, or at the very least, a CIA agent. He had to keep reminding himself otherwise he swore he was verging on losing himself in you the same way he did last night.

Thankfully, Stechner had other ideas.

“Do you know what this meeting is about?” He asked, gesturing to the closed door to the Ambassador’s office over his shoulder but Peña shook his head.

“My office just told me it was urgent.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he saw something shift in Stechner’s disposition. It was smugness rising back to his features, a look only a man such as himself could muster so casually. “Do you?”

He let out a hearty chuckle which did little to comfort Javi where he stood across from him, “yeah.”

Before he could ask what the hell that meant, the secretary off to the side stood and grabbed the door to gesture them in, and he was left to follow behind you and your perfect figure hidden beneath a professional pantsuit, mind filled with things that were far from professional yet again.

“Take a seat, Agents,” the Ambassador began with and Javi followed right behind you, taking a seat in the chair beside you as Stechner stood over your shoulder still. “Thank you for coming in so early.”

Javi passed on a half-hearted nod, glancing to the side to find you offering something similar, but his gut told him something was wrong.

Stechner was naturally smug, sure, but this was different.

The position of DEA attaché was certainly new to him still, but meeting with the CIA station chief, the agent he happened to have slept with the night before, and the ambassador? Something was going on. He had trusted his gut for this long, he let it save his life out on the streets, he couldn’t ignore it now.

But he also wasn’t sure there was anything else he could do to stop what he was sure was coming.

All he could do was sit up straight and wait for it to hit him square in the face. And when Stechner opened his mouth again, he was sure it was coming quick.

“The Ambassador and I have been talking about ways to improve interagency cooperation...” he began, stalking around the chair you sat in to rest himself against the front side of the lavish desk the Ambassador was sat behind. “And we have a pretty simple solution to ensure things go differently this time around down here.”

Javi glanced to you then back to the two men in front of him, still waiting for the final blow.

“We’re going to place a CIA agent on your team, Peña.” The ambassador quickly filled in the silence Stechner left in his hesitation.

“This one,” Stechner laughed slightly, gesturing to you and practically forcing his stare back your way.

“Excuse me?” The two of you said in unison, your voice layered in equal levels of shock to his.

“We feel it will smooth things out around here. The DEA and the CIA are going to have to work together this time around, Cali needs to be done differently.”

Differently? Javi understood different better than anyone in this room did, but this was different, this was putting a security camera on his team and calling it cooperation. If it was cooperation, it wouldn’t be forced onto him. If it was cooperation, you wouldn’t be a spy...

You wouldn’t be you...

He had to swallow a breath, keep himself from shouting out the first exclamation to come to mind and form a real response, “I don’t need CIA assistance.”

“You sure about that?” Stechner pulled the newspaper from his folder.

Two of his agents in Cali, being called out so plainly on the front page of the paper. There was no way there wouldn’t be consequences for that... Stechner really meant it when he saw his operation last night was going to amount to nothing.

This was all his doing.

The look on the ambassador’s face was all he needed to know he had no chance to argue his way out of it, yet Stechner still felt the need to voice his side of the story, “she is uniquely trained in surveillance and intelligence gathering, I’m sure you’ll find her a valuable asset to your team.”

He opened his mouth to shoot back a quick response, but you were faster.

“I have active assignments—“ clearly this was as much of a shock and disappointment to you. He didn’t know why he took solace in that, he just knew that he did.

“We’ll work all that out.”

“I’m not a liaison—“

“We’re not saying you are... we just would like to use your talents in a different area.” There wasn’t a single word out of Stechner’s mouth that didn’t sound slimy...

“I—“ Javi tried this time, but it was the Ambassador who cut him off.

“This is already decided. And it’ll be for the best.”

For the best? Javi could think of about a thousands ways that this benefited the CIA and their absurd agenda over actual crime fighting... this ‘deal’ of Stechner’s was going to let The Godfather’s of Cali walk away free, with all the money in the world. This wasn’t the best, this wasn’t even justice. This was sticking a spy on his team and using you to further their agenda.

Why was he still surprised by this kind of thing? He’d been in the game long enough, and he still hated when the true colors of the system burned through.

He was no saint, far from it, but he knew better than to let shit like this slide.

He also knew the last place to have a fit of anger was in the office of the Ambassador.

“Right.” He nodded, getting to his feet and giving a final nod to the room before leaving. Unfortunately, you and Stechner were right on his heels.

“Peña.” You called you get him to stop halfway down the hall and clench his eyes shut before turning back towards you. It was the first time you had even said his name...

He wanted to shout, at you, in general... but in the middle of the embassy? In front of Stechner? He bit his tongue and turned back to face you. “Yeah?”

He saw Stechner whisper something to you before peeling off and suddenly it was just the two of you left in the hall, and that was an audience he could work with.

“Did you know?”

Your face fell to your feet with some emotion coursing through you. He initially figured it was shame, or guilt, like you knew the whole time what this was coming to, but as your stare lifted back up, he saw it was anger. The same anger he felt coursing through his veins.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific...”

“Did you know when I fucked you last night that you were going to be spying on me today?” He switched to Spanish as the words flowed from his lips and he didn’t even know why, he just couldn’t help himself. Speaking to you in English still felt weird and yet, by now, he had spoken to you more in this building than he had in the whole of last night.

“No.”

“Did you know who I was?” Was this what being used felt like? What the hell was this anger bubbling within him?

“You think I’m an idiot?” That was a yes. And it felt terrible. “What? Just because you left when you found out who I was—“

He wasn’t going to have this fight with you in the hall of the embassy, he had to draw the line somewhere. He didn’t even let you finish, he just turned his back and kept walking back to his office. Leaving you stood in the hall with your hands propped on your hips and a familiar sentiment falling from your lips, “fuck.”

The worst part was how impressive you were.

Stechner had been kind enough to leave your personnel file in his office by the time he stormed back to his desk, and while he watched a desk in his bullpen be cleared out for you, he read all he could through the bars of redaction. And you were impressive.

If you weren’t CIA, he might’ve actually wanted you on his team. (If you weren’t CIA, maybe he’d admit he had some of the best sex of his life last night)

He really hadn’t ever been played like this. At least when he was being played by dirty cops or the higher ups, he knew it was coming, this was new since he had gotten back, being played so out in the open.

He had to send two good agents back, the Colombians pulled their visas. And he got you in their place. All for this goddamn surrender—

“Can I come in?”

Slamming your file shut, he glanced up to find you leaned so gently against his doorframe. But he couldn’t give you a verbal answer just yet, all he could manage was a brief nod.

“I’m as displeased with this assignment as you are, trust me.” You said so casually as you entered and settled into the seat across from him, but the majority of your sentence went over his head.

Trust you? Yeah right—

“I’m supposed to be doing real work here, and instead I’m assigned you? I get to play babysitter so Stechner can get what he wants?” At least you were honest. “No offense but you’re not what I want to be doing here.”

His mind was nowhere near professional territory as the words flowed to his ears.

“Last night—“

“I wasn’t there for you, I didn’t know about any of this, and I’m sorry.” Was it that easy? Was he just supposed to believe that.

Scanning your face up and down once, he was afraid that he actually did.

“So, What do we do?” He sighed, itching at his brow and aching for a cigarette.

“Let me make it right?

You were definitely new to Colombia. That just wasn’t something that happened here. For an agent with a record as substantial as what he read, he just didn’t understand your offer and his face clearly cemented itself in that confusion.

“I can only tell Stechner what I hear, so don’t let me hear anything you don’t want me to.” You followed up quickly, “you want me to leave a room, just tell me...”

“You would do that, you’d disobey your boss and order from the ambassador for me?”

You scoffed at that, quickly putting him back in his place. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

He leaned forward on his elbows, “so why?”

“Like I said, you aren’t why I was transferred here.” It seemed so simple coming from your lips, he imagined you could explain rocket science like that and he’d understand just by following the plush of your lips. The lips that he couldn’t breathe without last night... “I have real assignments and maybe once Stechner realizes this isn’t working, I can get back to it.”

“Real assignments?” You gave a plain nod. “If not Cali, then what?”

Another scoff tore through you, “there’s more to Colombia than drugs and communists.”

And he believed you. But he couldn’t escape the feeling that that was the beginning and end of everything.

Most of your file was classified, redacted beyond readable and he believed you.

As he shook your hand one last time and watched you leave his office for the new desk they had cleared out for you, he couldn’t help but mutter a final, “fuck.”

There was no way this was that simple. There was no way you were that simple.

—

->tags: (let me know if I missed you or you want to be tagged!)

@the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi @ms-dont-care @leo-moon

#javier peña x reader #javier pena #javier pena x reader #narcos #pedro pascal #i guess im going all in with this plot now #im glad yall liked the prologue so much!! #keep the feedback coming

[bookwyrminspiration]

Shattered Upside Down, but [REDACTED]

word count: 1.1k

warnings: crying, swearing, I think that's it!

to celebrate ten whole chapters of this au, here's a deleted scene!

This is a scene between Sophie and Keefe originally from chapter five of Shattered Upside Down, but I needed to rewrite it. Sophie came to terms with her situation and own mistakes much quicker than made sense in the story, but there's some sweet moments between the two of them that I don't want to just leave in a file to be forgotten.

I'm posting this unedited, which mean you'll also see some of my process. If you see any words/phrases/sentences contained within [brackets], that's just how I remind myself as i'm writing that I want to change something later, that way I don't loose my momentum over it!

Enjoy! Read below the cut

“We’re all in the dark right now.” He began, finally meeting her gaze. “And there are a lot of unknowns. We are unknowns.” She looked away at that, unable to resist looking at those wings on Dex’s back as he lay unconscious between them. She wondered what they were. What the one’s on Keefe were. “I think when you say he’s going to be okay, you mean that he’ll get better. That we’ll all get better. Go back to the underground. Go home. Back to...everyone. But we don’t know that.”

“That’s not what--”

“Let me finish, please.” He cut her off, eyes wide, begging, as he reached towards her, grabbing her hand. She closed her mouth, looking at where their palms met. Keefe interlaced his fingers with her, exhaling heavily--getting used to and ignoring her emotions. “We’re going to be okay. All of us. Whatever okay will mean for us, we’ll find it. I know you’re really anxious about everything--I mean, more than usual.” He smiled slightly at that, but it fell flat. “But even you could use a reminder that we’ll all work this out in the end. Somehow.”

Sophie didn’t respond immediately, instead squeezing his hand once. Something about his words felt...off. Out of place. Aggressive.

What was he trying to say? What was he trying to do? Her head cocked to the side, and she shook out her free hand, trying to get rid of some of the pollen. Keefe’s attention snapped to the movement unnaturally fast, and as he did, she could see over his shoulder.

See the tops of those wings.

Oh.

Right.

She understood now.

His words were not meant for her, although he’d spoken them aloud to her. She was not the one who needed reminding that it would all end well, that as long as they were together they’d have the strength to face what came next. She’d said those very words to the group herself.

He was saying it for himself.

“Yeah. I know,” she said softly, looking at him with a whole new world of [understanding]. He flinched back slightly, turning away from whatever he saw on her face.

[Sophie couldn’t remember a single time when Keefe had sought out and asked for support and reassurance when he needed it--he didn’t know how.]

“I know what you’re doing,” she continued. “I know you think reassuring me will make you feel better too, so then you won’t have to reach out and ask for our support.” He looked as if he were going to contradict her, so she pressed forward. “You’re right. We’re all unknowns right now. And it’s...terrifying.” She hadn’t admitted it out loud until then. Said exactly what she was feeling. She’d told Fitz she didn’t want to be a monster and it was true, but she hadn’t said this. “And I know it’s not just me. Yeah, I was the one who panicked--I guess I’ve never really seen medical emergencies before. It’s always me. So when I saw Dex..” she paused, looked down at him as he still lay between them, although his back wasn’t as red. “I had no clue what to do. But that’s okay.”

She looked back up at him, all conviction and determination, brows furrowing with certainty. “Because it’s not just me. I take control a lot, and everyone looks to me, but it’s not just me. Marella stepped in where I faltered. So. Whenever you’re ready to talk. Whenever you need me. Just ask. I’ll always have time for you. And I’ll always listen. And it doesn’t have to be me. You don’t need to work around it and [help yourself through someone else], okay? You deserve better than that.”

Keefe was looking away from her, but she could hear his heartbeat. Hear his breath, hear as it grew more and more uneven and she sat there, holding his hand, as he felt how she truly meant every word she said--the conviction behind them. The desire to help each other.

He let go of Dex for a moment, reaching up to furiously scrub at his face, letting go of her hand too as he pressed both palms into his eyes, body shuddering.

Sophie hesitated for only a moment before she moved, repositioning herself on the other side of Keefe so she could hold him from behind, saying nothing. This was not a time for speaking. She’d done enough of that already, and now she’d weather the results.

Keefe’s hand fell back onto Dex’s arm, his thumb brushing against exposed skin as the tears slipped down his cheeks. And he stopped trying to [wipe] them away.

“Okay” he whispered, leaning back into her slightly. His gaze was focused entirely on Dex, and she could’ve sworn she could feel the panicked concern radiating from him.

Dex’s features were soft, freckles shining too brightly against his skin, pallid to a point of luminescence in the dark. His hair was frizzing, haphazard around his face as though he’d torn his fingers through it, chaotic as the shredded cloth of his tunic--exposing his back.

And she realized.

She had no fucking clue what was happening.

“Keefe.” She stood from the couch, oh so slowly walking around to get a better look at Dex’s back. “What happened?”

She crouched down, fingers near brushing against the frail feathers as she reached out, tracing her hands along the shape. She and Fitz had come running, but no one had told them anything. And now the others were gone, had departed only minutes ago,yet a lifetime eternity forever had passed.

Eyes red, Keefe cleared his throat, only to frown as he came up with no answer. He shook himself off, and tried again.

“It’s...I don’t know. I had been alone in the cottage a few houses over--the one I chose. Just...thinking.” He didn’t say about what. “The worst part was--that’s not the point. The point is...something felt...wrong. In the air.” He turned his hand over to look at it. “I’m not fully used to feeling everyone’s emotions all the time, so at first I thought it was you.”

Sophie started, glancing over at him, and he continued without meeting her gaze.

“The feeling was...devastating. Terror and ravaging and sadistic and inhuman and agonizing. Put beneath all that...it just hurt.” He clenched his hand, then reached up to smooth back the tufts of hair framing Dex’s fragile face.

“And then I...heard something fall.” He hesitated on the word. “I can’t explain it but--I knew something was wrong. The panic and the noise…” He exhaled, holding Dex closer--protective. His eyes...she couldn’t explain it, but it was as though they burned as he looked off into the distance, into his memories.

#even though it didn't fit the story #i think it's very sweet #and a little glimpse into their characters #you may remember how the chapter actually turned out #with sophie a lot more distressed and panicked and frustrated with herself for her reaction #that was replacing this #her acceptance that her friends could help #but I still like it so #I had to share #we have hit ten chapters now!! #that's a lot!! #we are like 75000 words too #almost 76.000 #damn!! #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc wings au #shattered upside down #shattered upside down deleted scene #sophie foster #keefe sencen #quil's quill #kotlc fic #kotlc fanfic

[theotherackerman]

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Any recognizable elements belong to Attack on Titan.

NOTES:   January 3rd, Sunday

song credit:exile- taylor swift featuring bon iver,

chapter seven: you were my crown

Hange knew Levi when they were both in high school together. He had a reputation of being a bit of a badass and someone you didn’t get onto the wrong side of. Hange wasn’t afraid of him though. They would often sit next to him in class. Others would just stare at Hange but they paid no mind.

Hange lost track of Levi after high school.

Hange had gone off to college to pursue their one true love of science. They had heard that Levi had been arrested again and then a little while later, that Levi was going into the service. Mutual friends seemed to be proud of Levi, so Hange was proud too.

For Christmas one year, the group got together and made a care package for Levi. Hange included a few small, silly books they had picked up and some tea they had found.

Hange found a letter in the mailbox one day.

Hange,

Thanks.

How’s whatever you're studying? Quantum physics or whatever? Let me know if you discover the answers to the universe.

-Levi

PS : Send more tea.

That’s how it began. They wrote letters back and forth, Hange sending Levi tea and whatever little, stupid things that reminded them of him.

Then the incident happened.

Levi came back different.

He seemed colder, withdrawn.

Hange didn’t know how to react.

So instead they acted like Levi was the same person that they had been writing all this time.

Instead of sending condolences or gift baskets, Hange just regularly delivered tea to Levi.

They would just show up, say hello, hand Levi loose leaf tea in a pretty box, and leave.

“Tell her to bring me some bourbon next time!” Kenny had yelled from inside the house.

Levi pinched the bridge of his nose, “Kenny, please shut up. Do you want to come in?”

“Sure,” Hange smiled.

It was the beginning of their weekly tea meetings.

Then Mikasa came along.

Their weekly tea meetings continued but it sometimes was joined by a nine year and her toys.

Levi had grumbled and pretended to hate it but Hange knew the truth.

It had been no surprise to Hange how Levi had pretended to hate the fact he had all of the kids moving back in. They were all still kids to both Hange and Levi.

Hange knew Levi was happy to have everyone back. They had seen how sad he had been when Mikasa had left. The silence that had overtaken the house. That had been the point of the dogs, to liven up an otherwise quiet house.

Hange had found Sawney and Bean at an animal shelter. They had a sad story attached to them about how they had just been left in a box. Hange couldn’t bear to separate them, so two dogs came home with Hange to be Levi’s late Christmas gift.

Now Sawney and Bean sat in chairs at the kitchen table on both sides of Levi who was feeding them bacon and eggs.

Sasha had been the one to prepare breakfast as she always woke up first.

A groggy Ymir had appeared next who immediately went straight to the coffee machine.

Historia and Mikasa followed a few moments later.

“You’re going to make it too strong again and no one but you will drink it,” Historia said as she t ried to push Ymir out of the way.

“You and Mika make it too weak!” Ymir countered standing her ground in front of the coffee machine.

Levi sighed before he got up, “move.”

And Ymir and Historia did.

-----------------------------------

“Did you ever text him back?” Ymir asked long after Jean and Connie had left.

“Not yet,” Mikasa answered before she shuffled her music around.

They were back in the sunroom to continue work on their music, even without a record deal.

“Do it quick like a Band-Aid! Just be like ‘Eren, you’re an ass but I like your ass. Thanks for complimenting my writing abilities. You are correct, you will never be able to live up to my creative genius,” Sasha laughed.

“That is the worst response I’ve ever heard. Do text Niccolo shit like that?” Ymir asked Sasha as she plugged in her bass to the amp.

“Nah, it was more like ‘Hey, I hear you can bang the drums pretty well do you think you can bang me like those drums?’”

“I take it back. That’s actually the worst. Is he even your boyfriend yet?”

“No, I haven’t even kissed him. He’s more like….I dunno. This guy I text and then when I see him, I turn into a potato.”

Historia was the first to notice Mikasa being uncomfortable. It was another reminder that Mikasa was alone. So Historia plopped down next to her on the piano bench in front of the keyboard.

“You know I would like to work on this song Mikasa and I have been working on instead of hearing about Sasha sexting Niccolo, “ Historia said as she pulled out her own music.

“I second that,” Annie said as she sat on the other side of Mikasa with her guitar.

“I third it!” Armin yelled from the living room.

There were barks from Sawney and Bean.

“Ya’ll suck but fine,” Sasha said before going over to her drum set.

“So it’s a duet, right? You said that when you sent the lyrics over,” Historia asked.

Mikasa nodded, “Yeah. I already worked with Ymir on the first part. So it’s Annie’s vocalization here. Then it goes to you, Historia. Do you just want to take it from the vocalizations?”

“I can do that,” Annie said as Mikasa began to play the piano. “ Hoo, hoo-ooh. Hoo, hoo-ooh. Hoo,hoo-ooh ,” Annie sang before Historia took over.

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright]”

Ymir was staring at Historia, their past was clearly on display here. Ymir had jealousy issues, something that she would never deny. How many fights had she purposely picked against Reiner to prove she was the better choice?

“ And then this chorus is just you,” Mikasa pointed out before playing the next part of the song.

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],”

Historia had been the one to move out for a very brief few days when they had broken up. Even though it was her father’s house, she had let Ymir stay.

“And then it goes back to Ymir, then it’s like a call and response. Do you want to just try it or you want me to show you?”

Ymir moved so she could look over Mikasa’s shoulder.

“Let’s just try it,” Ymir answered. Mikasa nodded before she began to play again. “[lyrics redacted due to copyright]”

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],” ” Historia sang.

For some reason, that made Ymir feel like she was being attacked by Historia. She did hear her out.

It was Historia not hearing Ymir out that was the problem.

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],”

Historia never gave Ymir a warning sign? Well, Ymir clearly hadn’t been paying attention. How many times she made it clear that she had feelings for Ymir and the other girl had just brushed it off as a joke? How many more signs did Ymir need?

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],”

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],”

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],”

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],”

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],”

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],”

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],”

“And this is together,” Mikasa called out.

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],” Ymir and Historia harmonized.

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],” Historia sang by herself.

“And the next chorus together!” Mikasa called out again.

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],” Historia and Ymir sang in harmony.

Mikasa stopped playing, pulling both Historia and Ymir from their own thoughts. Mikasa was crying as were Annie and Sasha.

“Stop fighting with each other,” Mikasa finally spoke. “Please. Let the past be buried. You both fucked up. Now let it go. Don’t end up like me, please.”

Ymir swallowed, when had she started crying? Damn Mikasa and her mind reading abilities.

How had Mikasa been able to put what exactly Historia and her had been feeling this whole time?

“The rest of the song is just back to things we’ve already covered,” Mikasa said quietly.

“Okay,” Historia answered.

“I don’t think I don’t think I should sing on it. I think that needs to be Ymir,” Annie suggested.

“I agree, I don’t think I should add percussion to it. I think it just needs to be Ymir, Historia, and you, Mika. Just two vocalists and the piano,” Sasha added.

“I agree. It already gives me goosebumps this way. This is the way it should stay.”

“I mean if you really think that and it’s okay with Ymir and Historia…..” Mikasa looked to the other two girls for answers.

“Whatever you think is best,” Historia said before standing up. “We’re all a part of this band equally.”

“Okay, that settles it. Whenever we can record, this is Ymir and Historia on vocals and Mikasa on piano. Mikasa, put your hands on the piano like you’re playing. I’ll post it on No Name’s Instagram. I’m going to beat this algorithm if it is the last thing I do,” Annie said as she stood up to take the picture.

“If anyone can beat an algorithm, it is math genius Annie!” Sasha called out as she stood up from the drums.

Ymir and Historia seem to wander together.

“You want to grab coffee one day this week? I don’t have much money so I can’t take you to dinner but we could talk. Just the two of us?” Ymir asked.

Historia just stared up at Ymir for a moment before nodding. “I’d like that.”

“Cool,” Ymir said as her face went red. She was so bad at this but at least this was a start.

“I need a puppy break, that song was depressing,” Sasha said as she exited the sun room.

The rest of the band followed.

“That was great,” Armin said as the girls entered the living room.

“You’ve come a long way. I’m very proud of you,” Hange beamed.

Levi had a book covering his face but they could see him nodding before Hange snatched the book out of in front of his face. There were tears clearly there.

“Are you crying, Levi?” Ymir asked, absolutely dumbstruck.

“No, I got dog hair in my eye.”

No one dared argue with that.

----------------------------------

Eren didn’t know what was worse some days.

The crippling depression that made it hard to do absolutely anything or the mania that made him feel like he could do anything.

With a combination of therapy and medication, he was starting to stabilize. He found that his writing had actually got better now. He didn’t feel less creative as he had feared. His therapist was proud of him, he was proud of himself.

Being back in the old house had brought back many feelings. The pictures of him, Mikasa, and Armin still lined the walls in his bedroom. He hadn’t packed his old bedroom up.

Zeke had patients to see today so Eren was alone. It didn’t mean that he was truly alone though.

His phone would go off with texts from Zeke, Floch, and Niccolo. Eren had decided to write a new song as a response to Mikasa’s.

PING!

Zeke Jaeger:

Stop focusing on the song and eat something. Balance.

Eren Jaeger:

You sound like my shrink.

Zeke Jaeger:

Maybe it is because I'm a psychologist. Eat something and drink some water.

Eren Jaeger:

Fine. You sound like my mom.

Zeke Jaeger:

Someone has to.

So Eren ate lunch.

He didn’t dare think about the fact Mikasa hadn’t texted him back.

Well that was a lie.

He had thought about it a couple times. Okay, more than a couple times, if he was being honest. He knew he shouldn’t expect her to respond. She owed him nothing. He was the one who had lashed out, allowing his fears to take control of him. He worried far too much on events that had yet to come without realizing what he was trying to avoid, he caused. He had brought pain to Mikasa and Armin.

Yet even after that, here was Mikasa giving him another chance to talk. She wanted him to tell her everything.

He told himself that he had done the right thing, that she was better off without him when it first happened. Yet there was a part of him that wanted to be selfish, even back then.

PING!

Mikasa Ackerman:

Thanks. Are you free tomorrow? I think we should talk if you are.

Eren stared at his phone for a moment.

She wanted to talk.

Tomorrow.

Many of his drunken antics had included crying over Mikasa and what he had put her through.

As Zeke had reminded him many times, Eren had spent one drunken night crying over the fact that Eren had given her sunflowers on her birthday. It had been mostly about how he should have given her flowers more.

Zeke being Zeke just let Eren sit on the floor and cry.

There was no reasoning with drunk Eren.

It took a lot to get Eren drunk but when he did, it was bad.

But he had stopped drinking.

He looked at his phone again.

What should he say?

He needed advice but Zeke had patients.

Niccolo would tell him just to say yes already.

Floch….Floch would say some stupid response which wouldn’t be useful.

Reiner would listen to Eren but he was at work.

Bertolt would have picked up but he would have told Eren he had no idea what to do.

Porco would pretend he didn’t know who Eren was while Marcel would give Eren some sappy crap.

Pieck would….he actually wasn’t sure what Pieck would do.

But the problem was outside of Reiner and Bertolt, none of them were truly Eren’s friends.

Well, Niccolo was his friend. He’d made that much clear.

And Floch was more like...well...he was Floch. He wasn’t someone Eren talked to about his personal life.

But the others, they only talked to him because he was Zeke’s little brother or that’s at least what Eren felt. He wasn’t sure if that was true or not.

Eren hadn’t talked to his friends in almost a year.

He hadn’t kept in contact with them.

He had figured most of them would have taken Mikasa and Armin’s side anyway.

He missed them though, especially right now.

He had fucked up.

In more than one way.

His phone rang.

Zeke.

“Did you burn the house down?” Zeke asked on the other line.

“No, why?”

“Because you need to eat. That requires cooking, if you were unaware.”

“Don’t you have a patient?”

“Well, I did until he got food poisoning. “

“Are you allowed to tell me that?”

“He threw up outside of the building. He was in public. Besides, I did not tell you who he was.”

“Mikasa wants to meet again to talk tomorrow.”

“And?”

“And what? I just told you.”

“What are you going to do not to fuck things up this time?”

“Do you realize I have no friends, right? It’s just you and yours.”

“And who is to blame for that?”

“Me,” Eren sighed.

“Exactly. Now, the love of your life is giving you a second chance, I suggest you take it.”

“You and Armin….always so logical.”

“Someone has to be. You are not. You make things much harder on yourself than they need to be.”

“What would you do?”

“About what?”

“If you had someone like Mikasa.”

“I would have not made the same mistake you did to start but I think I would do anything to have that person back. Grovel, beg, cry. Whatever it took, I would do it. A love like that is rare, you know.”

“Did you feel that way about Yelena?”

Zeke started laughing very loudly.  “Fuck, no, I did not. Never. I have seen it several times but I have yet to experience it myself. But I am happy right now. I have you, I have Pieck. Romantic love is not something I need right now. You, on the other hand, think you just have me which is completely wrong. You do not have to like yourself to let others love you, Eren. I hate that stupid fucking saying of someone else cannot love you unless you love yourself. That is complete bullshit. I have seen more people who hate themselves while their partner loves them more than anything. Fucking internet self help books.”

“You had me and then you lost me.”

Zeke sighed, “you are a fucking idiot but you still have friends who love you. You still have a girl who would take on the world for you. So stop being a fucking idiot and talk to her. Get your friends back. Get your life back. Do something.”

Eren sighed.

He knew Zeke was right.

“And have you eaten something?” Zeke asked.

“Yes, I had lunch.”

“And you did not burn the house down? I am proud of you.”

“Don’t you have patients?”

“Food poisoning, remember?”

“All of them?”

“No, I already had my morning appointments. I only had one this afternoon.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Be there in an hour.”

“Fine….”

-----------------------

Mikasa watched as Hange tried the training exercises for Sawney and Bean.

PING!

Eren Jaeger:

Yeah, we should meet up. Zeke is going to move some stuff tomorrow. 4:00 pm sound good?

Mikasa Ackerman:

Okay. I’ll see you then.

Eren Jaeger:

I’ll be here.

#mmtylif #my writing

[josiebelladonna]

so... be me writing up a new chapter of cold embrace from the original file from the original work i’m pulling it from.

and see... this:

“the Night Owls all fell ill from a malady which happened in waves. ‘It often comes up suddenly,’ [redacted] told me on the way home the week before: he had barely recovered from it the day before so he was still sniffling and trying to regain his voice. ‘And when one of us in a group gets sick, we all get it. Granted, it's a mild flu. It's still a virus that can mutate and infect any one of us, and it still kicks our asses, though. We still have to be basically quarantined in our houses because it's airborne and then camps out in our bodies. [redacted] got it in his stomach and lost some weight because he couldn't eat. I went to their house yesterday to see how they all were doing and his face was all gaunt. [redacted] had a scarf around her mouth because she couldn't stand the sound of her own cough, and she looked like death had rolled her twice over. And I guess [redacted] got it in his stomach, too, because I saw him on the way to school earlier today and he looked peaked, like he hadn't eaten in a while.’ ‘Can it kill?’ I asked him. ‘If it gets real horrific, yeah. It can be deadly, but that's not common, though. I'd be more worried about someone like Kalma contracting it more than me, though, because she was born during the American Civil War. And humans can get it, too, but for you guys, it's usually gone within a few hours whereas it can stay with us for days on end. For the most part, it makes you really tired. Think—you wanna wake up but your eyes keep closing because your whole body is in pain. We're a species that's meant to be more robust and stronger than a regular human, and yet, here we are with our very own Achilles' heel.’

The thought of him feeling sick spawned an image of my taking care of him. [...] But I also recalled on that sickly moment of my own, before they each fell ill themselves. I couldn't help but think that I gave each of them it and I had no idea about it.”

it gets worse:

“I thought of washing his matted hair and scrubbing out every trace of the virus from his skin. [...] The image of him being sick with it brought out a side to me that not even Vincent could take out of me.

[...] his round face, now gaunt and sickly from having no food inside of him, from the flu bubbling around in the pit of his stomach. How I wanted to make him feel better, too.”

fuck me sideways:

“...it could kill them. I needed to find a way to tell him how I felt about him lest the flu stay with him to his final heartbeat. I had already purged the virus from my body, which meant I could perhaps go to his house and say it to his face, but on the other hand, I foresaw his parents stopping me at the front door and telling me to return home.”

date of origin: november 30, 2018 moreover, i completely forgot i wrote this. completely forgot it, like i wish i had shared this at some point last year because it would’ve made things made more poignant, but still. my worst fear is something worse than you-know-what coming next year, though: it being an even-numbered year and all of us being amongst anti-vaxxers and whatnot.

#i was fearing for alex's life back then and i still am #I EVEN USED THE WORD QUARANTINE JFC #text

[masterofmagnetism]

...my hands are cold

WHO: Erik Lehnsherr, Julio Richter @rictorscales, and Scott Summers @firstxman. Mention of Jean Grey-Summers.  WHEN: 7 days until [redacted] WHERE: Sara Memorial Hospital, Genosha WHAT: Ric returns from New York with Lorna in tow. Erik snaps.  WORD COUNT: 7k TWs: Murder mention, abuse, threats, violence, PTSD, suicide ideation, choking, hospital

ERIK: It'd been a week, and Erik's composure was beginning to crack.

(False. His composure had cracked a week ago in the middle of that training exercise. Once upon a time, halfway across the world, Erik had been an engineer, and he knew the way things broke. Slow, snaking cracks at first, so small you would scarcely notice. When the shatter finally came, it was never spontaneous--you just hadn't paid attention until it was far too late to patch the cracks.)

He'd been searching for the familiar tug of Lorna's magnetism from across the harbor since the moment she left. He hadn't found it, no matter how he'd tried. Part of him hoped it was because she wasn't in New York, but he suspected that for all his power, for all his skill, he simply didn't have the finesse to pluck her out of the barrage of signals that was New York City.

(Never enough--)

Wired as he was, the first sign of his daughter hit him like a steamroller. Familiar, definitely Lorna, but wrong wrong wrong, because whatever that was felt far too much like the sensation he'd had on the mountaintop in Tennessee two decades ago.

And then it came again.

Erik was on his feet and out onto the balcony in moments. Out at the docks in a few moments of flight more, watching across the water as he reached for what tendril he could feel of Lorna. Faint. Weak.

Then there was another disturbance, not Lorna's but with her, heading toward the island, and Erik saw his daughter in Ric's arms, felt his stomach drop somewhere below the seabed, well before they reached the shoreline outside the hospital.

G-d, not again. Please, not again.

"What. Happened. To my daughter?"

RICTOR: The distance from New York to Genosha seemed both less and more than Rictor thought it ought to be. The exhaustion clinging to his bones from exerting himself both during the fight and after made it seem an impossible spread to cover, and Lorna’s weight in his arms, however slight, felt like an anchor threatening to push him down into the water. There was some part of him, crossing that sea, that thought he might never get there. There was some part of him that was sure the next step would see his foot finding water instead of dirt, some part of him that was certain he would tire before the journey was end, that they would both drown someplace in the in between.

And there was some part of him that was okay with that.

The knowledge of what was likely waiting for him in Genosha made the distance seem shorter, because Rictor knew it would be nothing good. There was no best case scenario here, no ending that didn’t see him facing consequences he didn’t know how to fathom. If he got Lorna to the hospital, odds were he would deliver her into Jean’s arms. Jean, who viewed the still form in his arms as a sister, who had lost every other member of her family only weeks ago now, who burned up the lawn when he was still in school, whose burning flesh he could still smell from time to time when his heart was beating a little too quickly in his chest. Jean wouldn’t react well to this. Neither would Scott, who might stop him before he got to the hospital, or even Rahne who would smell the blood on his clothes if he made it home and know it wasn’t his. People loved Rictor. He understood that, even on days when it wasn’t enough to push the comforter off his shoulders. People loved him.

But they loved Lorna more.

It wasn’t something he blamed any of them for, wasn’t something he thought was a bad thing. It was understandable. Rictor was brash and destructive and angry more often than not. Lorna was heroic and brave and funny even when she wasn’t trying to be. Rictor was an irritation. Lorna was a hero.

And he’d probably just gotten her killed.

It was a fact that echoed through his head with every step, a fact that settled into his stomach the second he stepped foot on Genoshan soil. Lorna’s heart was beating, but it hadn’t been for a moment there. And Rictor had fixed it, had restarted it with the vibrations in his fingers, had used the beating in his own chest as a guide for how fast it might need to be, but he wasn’t a doctor. He didn’t have any more understanding of the human heart than anyone else, didn’t know if he’d done it right. A person’s heart could beat, but it didn’t mean they were okay. It didn’t mean they were alive. It didn’t mean he hadn’t failed her.

He’d only touched ground for a moment before he felt the vibrations of footsteps approaching, recognized them with a sinking feeling because there was no best case scenario here, but there was a worst case. Jean, Scott, Rahne, none of them would hate Rictor as surely as Erik. None of them would kill him with as little hesitation. They all loved Lorna more than they loved him (who wouldn’t?) but they did love him.

He didn’t think Erik did.

And if the chill in Erik’s voice was anything to go by, it wouldn’t have mattered anyways.

He could have lied, he guessed. He could have said I found her like this, and schooled the beating of his own heart well enough to chance getting away with it. He could have said I saved her, and technically been telling half a truth. He could have said a million different things, could have made things easier for himself, but that had never been Rictor’s style.

(Guido’s voice was cutting through the stale air in the silent car, quiet and uncertain. ’You ever hear of suicide by cop?’ Tabby’s voice, a thousand years ago, terrified and so much smaller than he ever remembered her being before. ’Rictor, I don’t wanna die.’ Jean’s voice in his head, angry and terrified. ’I just want you to be safe.’ Rahne in all her righteous fury standing at the foot of a building and staring up at him. ’Do you know where you are?’ If they saw him now, they’d all be angry. Rictor thought he might prefer it that way. Anger, after all, was so much better than grief. Wasn’t that why Lorna did what she did to begin with?)

“She came to me,” he said, flat and lifeless. “She wanted --- She was looking for a fight. Said you’d messed with her head and fucked her up. She wanted something to hit and I helped her find it. I didn’t --- I thought we could handle it.” They couldn’t. The proof was in Lorna’s still form, in Rictor’s labored breath. We’re kids, he wanted to scream. We’re kids, and you keep dragging us into wars. You keep making soldiers out of us.

(As if any of them would have ever had another choice.)

ERIK: I thought we could handle it.

Nurses were coming out of the hospital with a bed, taking Lorna from Ric's arms. Lorna, whose hair was wet with seawater and blood. Whose head lolled back when she was set down, whose pulse was an uneven, stuttering thing instead of the healthy pounding he was used to. Who was dying, the knowledge making something in his mind frost over.

She was looking for a fight. Said you'd messed with her head and fucked her up.

It didn't matter what he did. Didn't matter why. It never did, because whatever he did was never enough to keep his children safe. Lorna was dying, a bullet wound in her chest, and Erik knew with icy certainty that that was his fault.

She could've stopped it, if she wasn't distracted. She wouldn't have been there at all, if she weren't angry with him.

I thought we could handle it.

Ric should've seen. Should've known she was in no state for a fight, should've stopped when he realized they were out of their depth, should've done one of a million other things that would've meant Lorna's heart was beating right when she came back home.

It had been an annoyance before, the man's tendency to go looking for trouble, the evidence of his finding or creating it stacked high in the form of police reports in Erik's office.

But now someone else was paying for it. His daughter was paying for it.

(He should've been following her to the hospital room. He should, but he wasn't, because he couldn't watch her die and he couldn't help fix what was wrong. He was powerful, but not in the way Jean was, not in the way that helps people.

He was a weapon. Always. And a knife cuts friends and family as assuredly as it does enemies.)

There was another nurse lingering outside, saying something to him, but her words didn't register through the static in Erik's ears.

In all his fights against the X-Men, Erik had always pulled his punches. Never, not once, had he intended to do real harm to any of the children. Never.

But he flicked his fingers, and Ric went sailing into the brick of the hospital wall. The nurse disappeared.

Ric was stumbling back up when Erik reached him, and Erik's hand was around his throat to drag him up a moment later, fingers pressing into the blood vessels at the side of his neck.

(There were so many ways to snuff out someone's life. Bodies were fragile things, and in ninety years, Erik had learned nothing so much as his to take them apart.

Always better at breaking--)

Ric's pulse, unlike Lorna's, was pounding beneath his fingertips, and Erik needed that balance righted. Needed his daughter's to be stronger than his, and maybe that would be enough to convince him she'd be okay.

He'd electrocuted the ones who killed Anya. But he finds the classic standby in his hand before he even realizes it.

The blade feels like home in a way little else ever did.

"You should've kept her safe. She came to you for help, and you got her killed because you don't know when to quit." Erik's voice, his eyes, were as cold as his blood, as cold as the pit in his stomach and the static-silence in his mind, which fixed on one thing.

Make him pay.

Ric didn't know when to quit. Erik would make sure that he didn't have another choice.

He couldn't fix Lorna, but he could fix this.

RICTOR: Everything moved around him in a blur. They were on the beach and then they were in a waiting room, and Rictor didn’t know how he’d gotten there. Someone took Lorna from his arms and he fought them for a heartbeat, turned away quickly and defensively before recognizing the scrubs and the stethoscope and the tired eyes. He was panicked, he was half there, and he hadn’t gone with his father’s body to the hospital when he died. He hadn’t watched the paramedics load a corpse onto a stretcher and drive away in an ambulance with no lights on, didn’t know if they had taken him to a hospital or directly to a morgue, but he’d gone with Rusty. He remembered it now, the rest of them sitting outside in the waiting room, hearts in their stomachs because they knew what the nurses would say long before they came out of those double doors with carefully schooled expressions because they were mutant kids who’d just lost a friend and that made them a powder keg waiting on a spark. He remembered the shake of a head, remembered the quiet tones that curled around the words, ’We did everything we could do.’ They did everything they could do, and it wasn’t enough. Rusty died anyways.

Rictor did everything he could do. He pulled Lorna from that water, he started her heart to beat alongside his own, he carried her across a fucking ocean and got her to the only hospital in the world that would help her without question, without treating her like a powder keg and him like a spark. He did everything he could do, and it still might be enough. She might die anyway. She might die, and it would be his fault.

He almost forgot Erik was there, in the chaos. He’d been so quiet since Rictor arrived on that beach, hadn’t said a goddamn word since asking what had happened, and Rictor knew that didn’t bode well for him.

(Hodge got quiet, sometimes. When Rictor spat out a smart remark, when he shook something Hodge didn’t want him to shake, when he crossed his arms tightly over his chest and refused to do whatever it was Hodge wanted him to do. Hodge got quiet sometimes, and it always ended the same. White hot agony, a bruising grip on Rictor’s chin forcing him to look his captor in the eye, the silence broken only with cold, clipped tones ordering the man’s underlings to hurt Rictor more, to make him cooperate, to break him into pieces. Rictor preferred the yelling to the quiet. At least it gave him some idea of what was coming.)

The nurse who’d taken Lorna glanced to him before she took her away, something like an apology in her eyes, and Rictor didn’t need to look at Erik to see the cold fury on his face. He could feel it, from across the room. Anger was its own kind of energy, and it was one Rictor was incredibly familiar with. It was one he understood intimately.

He’d never faced Magneto. That was always the X-Men’s deal. He’d never stood on a battlefield across from a gaudy purple outfit and a stupid helmet that blocked thoughts from the world. He’d never been on the wrong side of the Brotherhood, never felt his heart in his throat and wondered whether or not the man who fought for mutant rights would take their lives to get his utopia. He’d only ever known Erik, only ever seen the Genoshan leader, the tired voice on the phone when he called from another jail cell on another early morning. Erik was safe. He would get irritated, might even threaten in vague terms, but he’d never act on it. He’d never hurt him.

Magneto was different.

Rictor felt the air shift just a moment before he was thrown backwards, a moment before his back met brick and his ribs ached with the impact. For a moment, he was thirteen. He was in a white-walled cell at whatever building the Right had claimed as their own, was glaring at Cameron Hodge as he stood by the doorway watching his men throw Rictor around. For a moment, he was ten years old in Mexico. His father was angry that he was still adamantly refusing to even look at a gun, had a hand raised in a warning that was no empty threat. His jaw still ached from the last warning he’d ignored.

He wasn’t that kid now. He wasn’t in a house in Mexico surrounded by people who saw what was happening but didn’t care enough to help. He wasn’t in a white room in San Francisco outnumbered and rendered powerless by inexperience and a dampening collar. He was in Genosha, in a place where safety was promised to him. He could bring the building down on their heads, could open the ground beneath Erik’s feet, could shake his heart in his chest and his brain in his head the same way he’d done to all those men on the docks.

Rictor wasn’t a little kid anymore. The difference was that now, as an adult… He deserved this.

His legs were shaking as he put them underneath him again, his breath trembling as he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He was afraid. He could feel it in his heartbeat, in that desperate pounding. He hadn’t thought he would be. He’d been chasing death for so long now, on rooftops and ledges, down the barrels of police officers guns, and he’d thought he’d be ready for it when he finally caught up. Maybe it hurt more when it was someone you cared about delivering that final blow. He might have made a plan to ask Jean about that if not for the utmost certainty that he’d never get the chance to do so.

(X-Men came back from the dead all the time, but Rictor wasn’t an X-Man. Rictor was like Rusty --- small and unimportant and destined to rot and be forgotten under the earth. And that was a good thing. He really thought that was a good thing.)

He hadn’t even regained his balance yet before a hand gripped his throat and pulled him off the ground, leaving his feet dangling inches above the hospital floor. He kicked out instinctively, eyes watering as his hands came up to claw at Erik’s, gasping for breath. He kept his eyes locked onto the other man’s, tried not to think of how many times Hodge had gripped his face and turned his head so that he could look nowhere but in his eyes. His gaze only darted away at the glint of something metallic in Erik’s hands, fear flashing across his face at the realization.

Rictor was going to die here.

‘You should've kept her safe. She came to you for help, and you got her killed because you don't know when to quit.’ Ric couldn’t even argue with him. He was right. Of course he was right. Rictor got people killed, shook the world until they fell off it even when he didn’t mean to. It was what he was good at.

“Do it,” he gasped out, the words painful as they took what little oxygen he could draw in and shaped it into sound. “Just do it.”

ERIK: Ric's heartbeat is thundering beneath his fingertips, breath coming in short heaves against his palm, and a part of Erik hates how those sensations settles something in his shoulders and chest, makes the world spin just a little bit less.

Shaw imparted a great many lessons, in the few years he'd spent as the man's prisoner. The one that had carved itself into his bones was that of control.

You were either in control, or someone else was. It was as simple as that. Everything that happened had someone responsible. And no matter what, the only person who you could trust to bend things your way was yourself. People were fickle, people lied, people manipulated and schemed and wiggled their way past your defenses to slide a knife between your ribs, all in the pursuit of control.

Erik couldn't fix Lorna. He couldn't fix her mind, he couldn't fix the gunshot wound in her chest or the slice to her head, he couldn't fix the heartache he'd caused. There were other people in control of Lorna's life right now, a small army of doctors and nurses who even now are gearing up to wheel his daughter into the operating theatre. Other people held a piece of his life in their hands, and he hated it.

But this? This was familiar. This was a scrap of control over someone who'd had it and hurt Lorna with it. It didn't matter what the circumstances were, didn't matter that the man beneath his fingers had dragged this island out of the sea himself just months ago. Didn't matter that Ric had tried just moments ago to defend Lorna from the nurses, or that he never would've wanted this to happen.

It didn't matter, because the rug was being pulled out from under Erik’s feet again, one of his children was once again on their deathbed, and he was useless except in this.

Ric had miscalculated. Ric had made a decision that led to his daughter coming back ashen and pale and cold and still, and Erik couldn't undo that decision, but he could make Ric pay for it.

The pulse thrumming under his fingers and that wild look of fear that had the man turning his face away from the knife was a sign of some control. Some grasp of something solid when the world felt like quicksand under his feet. He needs to hang onto it. Needs this to last long enough to feel like he's not going to fall apart at the seams.

The knife is at Ric's ear, accompanied by a low hiss of "You never could fucking listen," when footsteps and a sharper, louder voice cut through the frigid stillness of his mind.

Scott.

RICTOR: When he was with X-Force, Cable had whole days of training dedicated to mental stamina over physical. You had to control your thoughts, he’d told them once, but you had to control your emotions, too. Your grief, your anger, your excitement. Your fear. Fear had been a big one back then, one that they were all reminded of often. ’If your enemy knows you’re afraid,’ Cable would say, ’then you’ve already lost.’ And Rictor would laugh, would say something sarcastic or insulting, would try to get Tabby or Roberto to laugh with him because they were always the ones most likely to join in on his antics, would make a game of it because he wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t. He told himself that, after everything he’d been through, nothing ought to scare him anymore. He watched his father die in front of him, less than a few feet from where he’d stood. He was tortured by a group of radicals who wanted to use him as their statement piece, held captive by a madman who wanted him to break the world to prove a point. Rictor didn’t get scared.

But his heart was pounding in his chest all the same, and Cable’s words were echoing in his head along with everything else the X-Force’s tired leader ever told him that he didn’t listen to when he should have. Ric didn’t know if Erik --- if Magneto was his enemy or not. He didn’t think it mattered. Magneto had him up against the wall, had his feet kicking above the ground and his throat in an iron-clad grip that went nowhere no matter how much he clawed at the man’s hand. He didn’t know if Magneto was his enemy or not, but he knew Magneto knew he was afraid. He knew Magneto was going to kill him. He knew he probably deserved it.

There was a knife, hovering next to his ear. He could feel it there, feel the steady thrum of the pulse in Magneto’s wrist as he held it. There was no hesitation in that heartbeat, no doubt. He was going to kill Rictor without thought, without guilt. Rictor closed his eyes for a moment, a strange sense of calm washing over him, and he wondered if this was how his father felt in the heartbeat between the bullet leaving its chamber and entering his head. He wondered if it was what Rusty had felt on that battlefield when he looked down at his hand as it touched his chest and came back bloody, if it was what Jean had felt on the lawn when Zatanna got close, if it was what Scott felt in Central Park when his lungs filled up with blood.

He wondered if it was what Lorna felt the instant before her body hit the water.

When death came for you, when it was large and looming and inevitable, did the adrenaline wash the fear away? Did it make it hurt less when the knife slipped between your ribs, when a person you’d trusted in spite of everything twisted it into your heart? The human mind, Cable told him once, had ways of protecting itself from trauma. It locked away the worst memories, made them hazier and distant. It repressed the things that would break it as a method of self defense. Didn’t it make sense that it would have defenses against this, too? Didn’t it make sense that your mind would try to spare you from the sharp, bitter fear of death, even when it couldn’t spare you from death itself?

Magneto’s voice was a sharp whisper in his ear, bouncing around the knife to claw its way inside, and when Rictor opened his eyes it was Hodge holding him for just a moment. It was Hodge with fury in his eyes, with a snarl on his lips, with breaths that came quick and angry. ’You are here because you are useful to me. The moment you outlive that usefulness, I’ll put you in the ground. It wouldn’t have to be like this, Julio, if you would listen.’

He never fucking listened. And he’d outlived his usefulness now, just as he’d always known he would. Hodge turned back to Magneto, the calmness settling into his chest, and his expression was blank and his heart was slowing because he was going to die and maybe knowing it made it a little less terrifying. Maybe accepting it made it a little less real. Maybe ---

”Erik!” Rictor’s head whipped to the side, and he saw Scott Summers standing there, hand on the side of his visor. Scott Summers, who looked furious and sad and maybe just as frightened as Rictor was. Scott Summers, who was going to save his life.

Rictor didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

SCOTT: It came from Jean through the bond, sudden and sharp and terrified. There’s something wrong with Lorna. The words dug a pit into his stomach and poured dread inside until it was overflowing, until there was no room for anything else. She wasn’t on Genosha, had left the island for good reason, but Jean’s voice in his head swore she was here now, swore that she’d just touched down on the beaches and that something was wrong, and Jean had never been incorrect in all the time he’d known her. (Not in Scott’s eyes, at least.)

So he ran. He ran with the dread growing and spilling over, with his heart in his throat, ran to the newly minted hospital because he was a man built from worst case scenarios and he couldn’t think of a more terrifying place for Lorna to be. There was a nurse rushing out the door when he got there, and she stumbled to a stop the second she saw him, gripped his arm tightly to keep him from bursting through the doors. The glint of fear in her eyes mixed with relief told him that he was in the right place.

“Lorna Dane,” he breathed, “is she ---”

“She’s in the O.R.,” the nurse said, a hitch of panic in her voice. Scott’s heart pounded in his ear drums, made it difficult to hear her. “She sustained a GSW to the chest, a head laceration, and drowning. They’re doing everything they can.” Scott closed his eyes behind his visor, went to pull his phone from his pocket to call Jean, to tell her what was happening. He needed to find Erik, too. Even with everything going on, Erik deserved to know that his daughter was hurt.

The nurse’s grip stopped him from retrieving the phone, kept him in place, and he opened his eyes to look at her again. She still looked terrified, still looked like she had news to deliver. The dread sloshed over the edge again, splattered into every corner of him. “What else?”

“Her father…” The nurse swallowed, shaking her head. “The Richter boy brought her in. Covered in blood, looking ready to keel over himself. Her father was with them.” Scott’s breath hitched. “He’s going to kill him, Scott. I was going to find you or Jean, to warn you. He’s going to kill that boy, and I don’t think anyone but you can stop him.”

Scott nodded, pulled his arm from her grip. “Thank you,” he said, mouth dry. “Thank you for telling me. Find Jean. Tell her to call me. Tell her… Tell her I said not now, but soon. Sooner than we’d hoped. She’ll know what it means.” The nurse nodded and then she was gone, taking off in the direction of the apartment Jean and Scott shared. Scott didn’t waste another moment before shoving through the hospital doors.

It wasn’t hard to find them. Everyone was too afraid to intervene, but the murmur of chaos that accompanied something like this was utterly unavoidable. People parted for Scott as he shoved passed, quiet hints of recognition in their expressions as they nodded. Some looked dubious, like they figured he was walking into a tragedy. Others looked hopeful, like they thought he might still be able to stop it. Scott didn’t know which feeling to settle on himself.

For everything that Erik had done, Scott had never considered something like this a real possibility. He’d never thought, even on his worst days, that Erik would hurt a mutant on Genoshan soil. He’d never imagined Erik killing one of their own who was misguided and irritating but so painfully young. He’d underestimated just how much the Phoenix had corrupted him. He’d let his love and his admiration blind him to the distinct possibility that this all could end in tragedy that could have so easily been prevented.

And now, Rictor might pay the price for his oversight.

It felt like it took forever to get to the center of the chaos, like walking on a treadmill and running as fast as his body would allow while still standing in one place. When he got there, the scene was both better and worse than he might have imagined. Rictor was alive, feet kicking and eyes wide, held a few inches off the ground by one of Erik’s hands wrapped tightly around his throat. The other hand held a knife close to Rictor’s face, and Erik’s mouth was moving but the words were too quiet to be made out. They weren’t for Scott. They were for Rictor. They were intended, he suspected, to be the last thing Rictor ever heard.

His hand found the side of his visor, ready to flip it up if need be, ready to do what he and Jean had planned to do long before they’d wanted to do it. It would be cruel to kill Erik here. It would be unjust. Killing him before he knew if his daughter would survive the night, striking him down in the midst of his grief, it wasn’t what Scott wanted. But he’d do it. If he had to, he’d do it.

”Erik!” His voice bounced off the walls, and two pairs of eyes darted over to meet his. One set angry, the other resigned. Scott’s chest was heaving. “Erik, put him down. Now. Look at yourself. Is this really who you are?” (‘It is,’ the Phoenix whispered. ’It always has been. You know that, Scott Summers. You know how to end it. You’re planning on doing it regardless, so why not now? Why not make yourself a hero for it?’ He pushed the voice away.)

ERIK: Scott's voice echoed off the walls, sharp and far more akin to the voice he used on the battlefield than the familial tone to which they'd lately grown accustomed. No, this was the battlefield voice, and he stilled, knowing even before he turned to look that Scott's hand would be in place on his visor.

Magneto turned, and stared right back at the captain of the X-Men, and the tension in the room, on the battlefield, went taut.

(When had things become a battlefield with Scott again? Had it ever stopped?)

He'd never seen Scott Summers kill. He knew he'd done it, but Erik had never seen it, and he was almost tempted to call the man's bluff. They were in a hospital. Opening the visor was a risk.

Scott's expression said it was one he was willing to take, and for a moment, he almost missed the way he was already calculating his odds against the man anyway.

No. Not Scott.

Erik's lips pressed thin, grip shifting around Ric's throat. Normally a threat would send fire through his veins, but he didn't feel the heat now. None of the familiar thrill of walking the knife's edge, that lash of adrenaline. He just felt cold.

'Is this really who you are?'

What else would I be?

Erik was an assassin, a weapon. He wasn't a hero, never had been.

He wasn't a father, either, not a good one--there were graves for three of his children, with a fourth possible if the nurses failed here tonight. His own failures with the kids were in Lorna's flight. In the way Jean refused to be on the same side of the island as him right now. In the way Scott's hand rested on his visor.

Ric was still choking in his hand, hands scrabbling for any leverage against his arm, and Erik still paid him no mind, staring at Scott levelly.

Control. Don’t lose control.

(Some part of him whispered that it was far too late for that. That he hadn't been properly in control since the Raft.)

He couldn't control anything if Scott Summers killed him in this waiting room.

He could wait. Bide his time. He was nothing if not patient.

The knife slid free of his hand and sheathed itself back at his calf. He lowered Ric back to the ground, eyes never leaving Scott until Ric's feet were steady on the floor. He turned, then, leaned in to hiss in Ric's ear.

"You do not leave this island without my express permission, or I will have your head," he said lowly, before letting go of the man entirely.

Gaze back on Scott, and he approached slowly, pausing a step away. A tilt of the head, ever so faint, a twitch of his jaw.

"Mind yourself, Summers."

And then he was brushing past, the nurses parting around him as he stalked toward the door. "If she wakes up, I want to know. Immediately," he barked, and then he was gone, hospital door swinging closed behind him.

RICTOR: For the millionth time that night, time froze around them. Magneto glared at Scott, Scott glared back, and Rictor --- Rictor was an unimportant third party, dangling in Magneto’s grip, clawing in vain against the iron clad grip around his throat. There were spots dancing at the edge of his vision, and he didn’t know if Scott and Magneto were staring silently at one another or if sound simply wasn’t making its way through the fog the lack of oxygen had hanging over him. Everything that was happening around him, the standoff between the two men, the scrambling of hospital staff desperate to get out of the blast zone, it was all background noise. It was all inconsequential.

The grip around his throat shifted, but it didn’t relax. He still couldn’t draw a full breath, still couldn’t break the vice. He wondered, distantly, if the plan was strangulation or stabbing or if Magneto intended to forgo both options and snap his neck. He wondered if his death would be swift or slow, if he’d suffer much longer before it happened. He wondered if Scott would kill Magneto when it was over. Not before. He wasn’t worth enough for the leader of the X-Men to make a preventative strike. He knew that.

His struggles were beginning to weaken, those dark spots closing in until finally, slowly, the grip around his throat began to lessen. He felt himself being lowered until his feet found the ground, took a shuddering, gasping breath the moment he was able. Magneto was still holding him, leaning in close to whisper the first words that Ric had been able to make out since Scott entered, and Rictor’s blood ran cold. He squeezed his eyes shut, telling himself they were watery because of the oxygen deprivation, telling himself his heart was pounding because his lungs weren’t getting enough air, telling himself he was fine. If he’d had enough air in his lungs to form words, he thought he might have said something stupid. He thought he might have said fuck you, or I’d like to see you try, or anything that carried his usual attitude. As it was, he could only gasp, could only put his hands to his throat as if he might be able to force more air in that way.

(There’d be bruises, later. Rictor had had enough powerful men hurt him to know that much.)

When Magneto released him entirely, Rictor fell to his knees. There were more hazy words, more movements around the fog. Someone was approaching him, and he scrambled to his feet instinctively, trembled just enough to make the walls groan. When he looked up, it was Scott approaching, concern and guilt etched into his face as he reached out. Rictor shoved by him, shaking his head. “Don’t,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t fucking touch me.” Scott looked like he wanted to say more, but Rictor didn’t give him a chance. He moved passed a few concerned looking hospital staff, pushed out an exit that wasn’t the one he vaguely remembered Erik leaving through a few moments before, and left.

SCOTT: Erik stared at him, and Scott stared back. Rictor still hung in the other man’s grip, and Erik hardly seemed to recognize that he was there at all. The only attention he was paying the young man was the hand around his throat, a hand that would kill him soon if the grip didn’t soften.

There was a question in Erik’s eyes. Scott could see it. He wondered if Scott would really kill him here, wondered if he’d risk civilian casualties in order to take him out. And, terrifyingly, Scott didn’t know the answer. Before Central Park, before the Phoenix, it would have been no. But now… ’He’s a danger to everyone,’ the bird whispered. ’You know that. Killing him here would be worth it. A few dozen innocents might die, but how much will that number be multiplied by if he goes on like this? How much worse will it get?’ And Scott knew the answer wasn’t a kind one. He knew there was no scenario where things didn’t get worse. He knew that there was a nonzero chance he’d lift his visor no matter who got caught in the crossfire.

But it wouldn’t be necessary. He saw Erik’s resolve slip, saw the slow, steady pace with which he lowered Rictor to the ground. Rictor was already gasping for breath, already sucking in oxygen with the desperation of a man who’d been without it too long. Scott watched Erik lean in, watched the words leave his lips. "You do not leave this island without my express permission, or I will have your head.” He’d have to keep an eye on that, then. Rictor would hate it, but it would be easier for all involved if he stayed put on Genosha. They needed to keep Erik as docile as they could until the time was right. Until they were ready.

Scott’s eyes didn’t leave Erik even as he began moving away from Rictor, his hand still resting on his visor in a clear threat. His jaw tensed as Erik approached, muscles tightening at the coolness of the other man’s tone. “You’ll be grateful,” he said lowly. “You’ll be grateful I stopped you later.”

(And he wasn’t just talking about this incident. He wasn’t just talking about Rictor. Erik would be grateful for all of it, when it was over. He’d be glad that Jean and Scott stopped him before it was too late. He’d be thankful they killed him before he could turn into Sebastian Shaw. Scott had to believe that.)

He didn’t take his eyes off Erik until he was gone. Only when the doors swung shut behind him did he turn to Rictor, make his way across the room. “Julio,” he said lowly, but if the other man heard, he showed no indication. He stayed on his hands and knees until Scott got close, until he was scrambling to his feet with a wild look in his eyes, until he was spitting curses and searching for an exit like a trapped animal. And then he was gone too, tearing out the door opposite the one Erik had exited from. Scott didn’t know where he was going, but he was confident that, for tonight at least, he’d make no attempt to leave Genosha.

Sighing, Scott turned to a nearby nurse. “Will he be okay?” He asked lowly, motioning after Rictor. She glanced towards the door and nodded, a little hesitant.

“He’ll probably have some bruising,” she said, “and he should come back if it gets hard to breathe.” He wouldn’t. Scott knew that, but he nodded anyways. “Other than that, he’ll be fine, physically.” Emotionally would be a different story. She didn’t have to tell him that.

Scott thanked her and asked her to call him with any updates on Lorna before leaving the hospital, scrubbing his face with his hand. It was silent outside. Both Rictor and Erik had gone, taking the chaos along with them. Scott sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. His chest ached, his throat was sore, and his eyes burned. This, if nothing else, served as proof that he and Jean made the only call they could. This, if nothing else, proved that they were right.

Pulling out his phone, he typed out a text to Jean. ’Soon,’ it said. ’It needs to be soon. Let’s talk tonight.’ His finger hovered over the screen for a moment. A siren wailed nearby, an ambulance on its way to the hospital doors.

Scott hit send.

#c: scott summers #c: julio richter #f: discord #d: my hands are cold #tw: murder mention #tw: abuse #tw: violence #tw: ptsd #tw: threats #tw: suicide ideation #tw: hospital #tw: choking

[misterbitches]

Hello! @flootweed replying to the post from before. the long format was killing me. why does tumblr look like this...

I haven’t watched episode 8 yet...or have I? If it’s the most recent one. No.

Is the hornbill a bird? It probably is but I have a terrible memory and I’m dumb so. I skipped the last few weeks because I’m scawwed. How are you liking it? I did see someone say that the hornbill makes sense (without knowing what it is...at all) bc heart transplant patients only live like 5-15 years after but someone in those comments pointed out that he was so young when he got his and that’s pretty rare so he has a higher likelihood of survival. Frankly, this is the only way I will proceed. Since when did shows ever care about the heart transplant health? Never and it needs to stay that way!

What did we think of ep 6? LMAO. I need opinions! And omg it makes me feel special when I can point things out to people because I so...rarely get to LOL. Editing is like one of my favorite things ever so I can be super particular about it but I try to do the thing you do when you’re supposed to see if it works within its context. I’d like to go in with scissors and glue but alas. 

THe mic covering....the rustling....it’s like guys...please. Ironically the audio today wasn’t great. I don’t know why. IDK if you watch c-dramas but I am not even sure what’s worse between them because they dub their dramas. But actually no it’s best to have the dubbing because even tho it is painful they have to put a lot of effort into it. LOL. 

Right? @ Aey! It’s just weird if they would show us more about what he’s done instead of saying he’s done sth bad and not even explaining that....like you could even do some shitty exposition. I think if he is to be a true villain then we really need to be privvy. All the warnings make it seem like he’s a fuckin’ serial killer so when we get the scene of him at home it’s like....actually this is really serious? Maybe his pain is like...for a reason. Althought you won’t even TELL US WHAT HE’S DONE WRONG BESIDES BE JUST FUCKING WEIRD AND ANNOYING! So from what we have it’s just a realllllllll fucked up sad person lol. god i forgot about the dinner! and i totally agree. he really needs them to succeed. i like your theory because it would make the scene where he like blocks the twitter user make more sense. he also says they dont really know each other etc so it’s realllllyyyyy probable that he just sees it as a way out. if not then we shall pretend u wrote it :)

god yea i wouldnt say it is art but i also guess we technically have to since it is technically. in the way that technically performance artists are artists but mostly i uh technically ignore them. Also one of my fav BLs is called the best twins. If you do not know what it is I will not elaborate further.t 

i want to know more abt poli sci majors lmao but they sound DRAMATIC/ hopefully most ppl in ur cohort arent losers! 

hahahha i understand. there was just a thing on twitter about DSA and then the day before about reading discourse. the same thiings. over. and over. and over. and over. we are our own worst enemies but also our own best friends? but i hate tankies and that wont change. but hasan’s a decent guy. he said sth abt black ppl during biden’s primaries in GA or whatever and i was like chill. but he’s insecure and has adhd which means ur more open to being wrong and changing otherwise u will suffocate and die. 

and totally about hiding fuck ups. i’ve tried really hard bc of organizing IRL to like...be honest, question, etc but also like...approach it naturally? because if you’re trying to be perfect and so worried you’ll fuck up you don’t realize that puts  more stress on you, makes you seem like a robot, and could potentially not make you realize the mistkaes you made. also if we’re privileged in certain spaces there is just no possible way we won’t get something wrong. im light and i know that honestly any way to speak up on colorism is going to be difficult and that’s a space where i have power so i just have to figure it out. we should be uncomfortable because we have to sit with unpleasant feelings and sort through our own whatever. that just makes the next time even better and people can trust u more.  i think some people sweat it sooo much or maybe they think their personal life and what theyve been through is more the norm? on the other hand people can be sf reactionary in the worst way and idk what their issue is. there was also a user who said sth very inch arresting about tankies which i thoroughly enjoyed (how like violent lefitsts or tankies / ppl who are like ooh a gun whatever just want to be violent in another space so they have shit tendencies from jump and nothing of substance which i think i agree with tbh fo ra lottttt of ppl. like their anger is actually like “no im about to beat that ass” instead of what we actually want to get done) 

sort of in the same vein re: taking it easy...we coudl all be more understanding too. to slow it down like you mentioned about not being privvy to fucking eveyrthing and saying anything on our mind. i saw this person talk about y2k which was a huge deal while happening bc it was the turn of the millenium (bruh were u even alive?) but this twitter user grew up in a super super SUPER religious household and was like why do ppl make jokes about Y2K it was insanely traumatizing? though my first instinct was confused ive tried hard to like look more before i judge especially thanks to a friend of mine. turns out that with the further reading the more we found out he was just really traumatized; it was very common in religious households to be afraid of 2000. so we could have come at him with no understanding and he could have thought that everyone had the same experience with that year that he did. his feelings sit precedent though but i think it was just very hard for him to fathom. 

i didnt reply bc he didnt need that and what could i have said? he’ll see what the truth is with exposure and unfortunately this was something he really did go through. 

and that’s what makes most people think others could be over the top. because it sounded ridiculous but then it was this huge traumatic thing that we could have never known about. so maybe when someone sounds like actually crazy they have an explanation? of course some ppl are just batshit or annoying but that’s anywhere not just leftists it’ just means more i guess when a ~~librul is annoyed~ but it can be easy to want to make fun of ppl too. lmao.  basically what i am saying is the internet? especially twitter? for leftists? in this economy? bitch it’s the wild west out here.

i am 29! idk if i said it or not. i am OLD u probably werent even born in the year i was talking about wah. i know not old-old or old at all but compared to you i’m due for a colonoscopy.

omg i hope u can get vaxxed soon! are you wfh rn? i hope ur also not in a bad state as in state state not state as in ur being :| bleh what a fucking time. it sucks that you have to fucking do work. well unless u like school. which i hope u do. i just assume everyone hates it cos i did lmao

was it the lindsay ellis drama? that bitch is dumb. if there was other drama oh wait the drama i was referring to it all happened on the same day. idk book twitter that well but i saw something from someone who was abt that shit and wowie! the american people are not that.....intelligent to put it lightly.

i’ll get better. ppl tell me they miss me and im like aw. i have insanellllyyy bad insomnia and a lot of stuff happened this year HOWEVER I SLEPT FOR TWO DAYS FOR 8 HOURS AT A REASONABLE TIME. im a new woman.  anyways you too! i hope ur not too burnt out with school. we just dont know when the burnout is or we just dont know we are burnt out until we are. the panaramiciccici hit and all the things i was ignoring kind of just fell on me and sooo much happened at once. and frankly it’s hard to take care of ourselves. lord. 

Like if you aren’t interested in expanding on the issue in a way that hasn’t been done before all you gotta do it like… spread resources and donate if you can. I dont see the point in having to say something about every issue especially if you (not at you specifically just in general) aren’t immediately impacted by the issue. Like is the 14 yr old white marxist named sarah on twitter really gonna have meaningful insight on anti-asian violence ?

this is part of why i cannot telecommunicate. i dont want to do shit on the internet. i am able bodied so i know that this time has been of such ease for other people. but mentally i just can’t. i don’t have a comment on hand like that and i hvae no desire to engage with ppl that way. i am a super super super solitary person but thats bc it’s MY time so when it’s like all this effort with other people i dont ever want to be alone. it’s the same with the way i approach filmmaking. it isnt a sole thing so i hate it not together. that’s part of how u can get so sucked in and repeat doom scrolling. i was in this webinar last may after [redacted] and this black woman prof said “read with a community and talk” because otherwise she said we are torturing ourselves. you can’t carry that weight all on your own. unfortunately i hate zoom, discord, slack, signal, whatsapp, facetime. you name it this panera has made it evi.. L

you make a really excellent point. i think the young young gen zers are really really just interesting because it’s like this whole new world for them with leftist politics and they just can’t grasp the horrors of the world and the kind of freedom being a leftist can bring. and so many people don’t grow out of it. those people so happen to be the “least productive” in terms of how much time they spend IRL withe these issues. naturally, younger kids are gonna have a harder time. they are not as mobile as well so the internet becomes this place. but then it’s this echo chamber. and many times just things posted without sources. and social media NEEDS that to exist.

i think of the irony of leftist kids on tik tok and while i am happy it’s reaching them it’s just....different. very different. the growth of social media is so good but also so fucking sad, it’s too much! i think the point about not writing everything is major. even i have to do this which is part of the disappearing.y ou need to detach and make sure your head is on straight again. but when you think eveyrone has to be privvy to every thought and you can’t just sit back....which twitter and social media doesn’t encourage. you have to join in. that’s often why when i have something to say it is dense because i don’t feel like repeating it. ever. lmao ust ever. i cant pay attn. social media is a fucking minefield for my brain u can get so lost in it and absorb it but once u start talking you may not be able to stop. 

i think a big part of that is it not being a leisurely thing but sort of just in our lives always. this sounds like a grandpa rant but ykwim. We dont have to see the same thing over and over again. And eventually it gets sincerely diluted or its diluted bc of capitalism or whatever. Or if theyre very young or maybe they don’t have like the greatest way of sharing the knowledge? then it can be butchered. I hope this is making sense...i’m talking beyoond the boring surface-level milquetoast shit. i see really ahistorical stuff on there from leftists (like this thing about NK + africa and it being a beneficial rship as opposed to a um not beneficial one. and it isn’t.  beneficial but this young black girl was talking abt it and noname rtd and i was like it’s just too complex. there’s no good/bad here just bc it’s not america. dont get me started on this.)

but Lol that was kinda off topic but I think what I meant in my last reply about not turning off the voice in my head is about when I consume media, not necessarily when I’m online talking about. Even if I have criticism for something, I’m usually pretty chill when consuming fandom content bc I think being serious online all the time is kinda boring. Like sometimes I’m analyzing theme and shit but really most of the time im memeing.

exactly.........gotta laugh. thats why sometimes im like i cant think lmao. unfrotunately i have been ARGUING with ppl on the internet for rly no reason when  i could have replied to ur very nice fun wholesome message. i love torture. i miss memes.

“ i think the people who get the least enjoyment out of that are those so obsessed with getting upset with anyone thinking outside of their lines as if it equates to them “ EXACTLYYYYY

kekekekeke im glad u got it. it’s like with conservatives throwing around snowflake. now im beginning to question who the real complainers are. 

LMAO exactlyyyy. i posted a screenshot of this writer from twitter saying that exact thing. Like first of all, I’m...an adult? and if you are as well uh? i’m sorry for you but are we 12? But how is it affecting u this viscerally? And if it does why dont u...do...research? pihgofuaipoajghou but honestly everything u said. we’re trained to go into it with nothing. i was only around ur age when i started to get more serious about this stuff but you’re like lightyears ahead of where i was at 21. did i say this but i’m in iww and literally i can tell u in 2016 i did not think 2019 me would be in a union bc i told my friend in a train station that we don’t need unions. i was 23...but the thing is i didnt know what i was talking about. at all. and i knew i didnt know and she knew i didnt know and now i am the clown.

also yes at critical engagement. i had to learn so much through experience and this is tuff that i coudlnt be shielded from. there’s an empathy you kinda have to develop and this understanding that you move through the world as this person who is “nowhere and everywhere; nothing and everything” so i’ve always had to think about things differently just to survive. that’s also what can drag a lot of people towards it like theres so many black kpop fans bc i think a lot of the pain in SK can be mirrored (sort of) through our history. and theres currently a history now but it had to be forged. uh what was my point oh yea however i wouldnt have been able to move further if i didnt have my background to go off of  bc i knew something was off when i started getting into all these things (ill give u a hint) but if i had no prior knowledge and didnt have to think about it then the critical approach is either stale or stupid. 

i had to research but i dont understand how ppl are so bold with little to no research and understanding? thhey just inherently know with also like ZERO experience in what they need experience in. engaging critically means “how i see the world” with dashes of trying to be open adn understanding or whatever. actually that’s another thing like being afraid of criticizing things bc theyre foreign to you so u give it a pass (like we discussed) but it doesnt hAVE TO BEEEE JUST REAAAAAD and then take all the info ur teensy brain and apply it. be a normal human being and dont be fucking rude and racist. thats it! u can complain abt literally anything without being a dick.

as we start with LW and end with LW.....what do we think (i asked this already) omg please share wbl thoughts i THINK i know what ur talking about. well it could be two things; their rship when they came back and the physicality and then pei shou yi. i almost dont even want to use my brain to fucking look at that. i think wbl can get away with more bc of visual~*~*~* reasons (like literally, the look of the show. there’s more space to get lost in the frames. many thai dramas are a lot more literal? this isn’t the right word but it’s very heavily character focused particularly bc of $ i think) though good production also underscores flaws so i am also wrong. but like do u know what i mean? u have to kinda focus on it? or maybe it’s just cos like.....ur so used to it in thai bl idek. i’ve seen tw bl ofc. 

look i swear i will justify this forever bc there are some things we miss right but if u feel like someone’s a bad actor....theyre bad. it’s about tone movement etc etc etc and since most thai bl productions have 0 interest in that....well. they take these newbies and put them in these situations. we dont understand thai but if we see them and we’re like “wow this is really bad” then they’re bad lmao. IDC i will never be like cos idk what theyre saying NO WHY HE LOOK LIKE A ROBOT???????? DOES HE EMOTE? why is he CRYING WITH NO TEARS? and it’s not even a total requisite to cry with tears(i mean for me it is) but it’s just like what is happening on ur face right now young man????????

painful.

the inflection stuff is very valid ooh good point tho but that’s only a part of the piece. plus we get used to the way they communicate. like the ppl from sotus were prtty bad. i dont like that show but thats an ex of ppl liing the actors and the person i thought was better other ppl dont think that? well apparently hes a shitty guy but. um. so when theres decent acting its so glaring.

although i must say even tho i dont care for 2gether anymore and would never like to be reminded about its existence (only bc i just cringe lol) i honestly....didnt think bright was a bad actor? but people keep saying he is and i am much more inclined to believe them than myself. though i am not often dickmatized that could have been it. until he opened his mouth and ruined it and then i stopped paying attn.

although honestly i’m so much more critical than i could be positive. i have ben stumped for the last day about how i wasnt mad at his acting in the show. is it me? is it him? who’s......the wrong one.....(me) 

oh shit they have been denied? i haven’t been paying attn to whats been going on recently. i just got into it on MDL because of snowdrop. sometimes i literally cannot engage bc ill just be like alright well im black so this power button in my head is going off when ppl talk abt that shit. back in the day when kpop jawns were saying some real outta pocket anti black shit (now everyone is slick with it) it’d always be THEY DONT HAVE GOOGLE THEYVE NEVER SEEN A BLACK PERSON but really it’s like no...maybe they are just racist? that’s ok too.

also the past 2 weeks have been um atrocious bc how fucking easily people fell into the pit of white supremacy and started to turn their ire towards black people and making a competition between our groups just like they wanted. it’s not about the women who are dead anymore, who were sex workers, their womanhood, being asian, being poor anymore. it’s about how much black people get attention and why people only pay attn to us. i am not feeling very generous this week for ppl to excuse that hsit.

on a lighter note, ppl say that abt the whole husband and wife thing. i dont know how to explain how angry that shit makes me but maybe it’s because i do not want to think of my body in relation to a fucking penis at all hours of the day. if bls could kindly not do that it would be nice lmao 

yes there are a lot of those. who are only there to gawk lmao. and just idk worship bc of the cult of personality thing bc of how weird and open they have to be as actors. some of the others are people who /think/ theyre really smart (i think im asmart but i also think i am very dumb and i have adhd to prove that MEDICALLY!!!) but are actually not? or their observations arent great? or idk if they are they arent interesting? but i think well..........we have more refined palettes :P

jk also theres just different personalities. you and  i mesh more bc we have a lot of the same beliefs and are coming from the same place. that makes it easier to understand as well. i really try to remember that but some people are really weird so. again just...the perception of certain things even down to acting skills. but i also dont like.......believe this genre can really do anything at all. on one hand i want them to do it right bc it’s a piece of work so they should. be proud of it. cos most things arent advancing us bc representation and culturalism are a lie bla bla. it’s just that when the depictions are negative or not done well it adds to the problem as opposed to the things that are well done are fairly benign and can’t really pull us back (perf example is the black panther film. i woudl definitely not say it was transgressive as a literal work but visually it’s just stunning. and it’s sad that it’s stunning and surprising but still with basically an all black cast of mostly dark people abd like what it means in the zeitgeist yes. it’s also just a good movie. but it’s still imperialist prop and unfortunately and this is fucking pathetic to say it “opened eyes” in other countries where they hate black ppl and ignore their own racialized minorities HENNYWAYSSSS a better ex is moonlight except moonlight isnt mainstream and is indie tho...still thru a funnel of capital bc a24 but who cares bleed the fuckers dry is my motto. my point is moonlight is both a great work and doesnt bring any failures to the table and its existence helps in ways outside of art but they arent the defining things giving us material advancement sooooo i mean it’s complex (this is my conclusion to everything um guys it’s complex) 

er i had one more point in conjunction to above. oh yea so i like dont need all these extra things to make it progressive. like people really want more women in the show and i am honestly like i really dont. i dont want them to actively do this. if they cant do it naturally then let someone else do it. i am not asking for more bc i dont want it from them. when something comes along i embrace it but i do not see why women should be represented when the genre RELIES on patriarchy. there is no complete satisfying existence for the women in these series. i dont want it. i dont ask people to show us~*~* or respect~* like fuck no the people who make it make it and hopefully more will make it in the future but i will not beg bc THEY DONT WANT TO DO IT SO WOULD FORCING IT MAKE IT BETTER? just fucking leave them out entirely. that’s the answer if theyre gonna make nasty female characters then those bitches can geaux. we have other plcaes to be. booked. and. BUSY!

[ocean-butch]

My loveee how I adore you. Thank you so much for making my life this beautiful hopeful thing, filled with love and happiness. I’ve been in love with you for almost 3 years now and you still make my heart race. You still make me feel like I am living a fairytale. You are quite literally my happy ever after. God, I fucking love you. Even the worst days of my life are still so much better because of you. Baby, you have no idea how happy you make me. You inspire me and motivate me and make me want to be better. You taught me what love truly is and how much deeper it goes than what I used to think before I met you. You showed me partnership like I didn’t know existed. I never knew what intimacy truly meant before I met you. And I really thought I knew at the time, but then you showed up and you made me laugh and you made me fall in love and you made me feel things I had never felt before. You made me realize how much I’d been missing. You made me feel truly comfortable for the first time in my life. I didn’t even notice how much of my friendships and relationships were just me hiding things about myself and pretending to be someone I wasn’t until you made me feel like I could be myself. And you didn’t even know what you were doing. We’ve always been like this, haven’t we? We’ve always just fit together in more ways than we could even see. I know people say this is bad because we are all our own person and all, but I really do believe that I was made for you. And I don’t think this makes me any less of a whole person, I just think that we were always gonna end up together. We are always gonna end up together. I don’t know how many lives we’ve had or will have, but I know that I am only myself because of you, and I will never be alive and not love you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and the most important part of my life. I have many many plans for our future, but I don’t care how much of it changes as long as we are together. You make me feel like I can get through anything. You make me feel worthy and lovable and good and strong. And I plan on spending the rest of my life thanking you for all the wonderful things you have done for me. Your support means so much to me. God, I genuinely cannot express how much I love you. I keep trying to but nothing is ever enough. I love you more than I have ever loved anything. I love you more than the English language could ever put into words. I love you more than love itself. Not even these seem like enough. I promise you I will never stop trying to make you understand how deeply I love you. Here’s to all of those years, meu amor. Happy [redacted] anniversary, @ocean-femme . Thank you for giving me a love that feels like this, iubirea mea💕

#mine #our anniversary #personal #luna

[ollifree]

i want to Enable so 3, 28, 29, and 30 for skylar/lucio and also kendra/bull AND ALSO caedan/morrigan.

Skylar/Lucio

3. Most common argument?

Lucio: “Tell Salsa to stop eating my shirts!” Skylar: “Fuck off I have.”

28. What do they do when they’re away from each other?

A real-er answer is that Skylar reads, or spends time with the pets. He likes going out and about cities to learn the people and culture. Lucio’s solution to his “don’t wanna be alone” disease (incurable) is to just be around Skylar at all times.

29. One headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart

Do you want spoilers or not, Rey?

After [redacted] whenever Skylar gets sick Lucio’s in a state of “want to help but huge phobia of any and all illnesses now”. Skylar’s the type of person who wants to sleep bad health off; he’s fine with Lucio going anywhere else because he wouldn’t be able to handle seeing Lucio get sick again.

30. One headcanon about this OTP that mends it

There is no mending it there’s only these two trying to love one another within their new boundaries and me crying about it.

Kendra/Bull

3. Most common argument?

They don’t have recurring ones between them, but Bull pulls Kendra away from a fight about once per day. Wait, no, I lied I wasn’t thinking about Kendra’s solo worldstate.

Bull: “So we’re gonna kill Solas, right?” Kendra: “We’re trying the other thing first.” Bull: “Why?” Kendra: “It’s not that simple.” Bull: “Yes it is!”

That disagreement gets continued so long after the wrap-up that Skylar knows it.

28. What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Bull spends time with his Chargers or takes the odd mercenary job here and there. During the Inquisition his band would get sent on tasks. Afterwards, he spent time exploring the cliffs of Ostwick.

Kendra mixes poisons and practices knife-throwing, or writes letters and makes trade deals. She liked strolling the grounds at Skyhold and in Ostwick likes walking the beach. Horseback riding is a staple of her day.

29. One headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart

Oh boy you ready for Kendra’s deepest, darkest secret Rey? So, during Trespasser, when the Qunari nearly invaded? When the Viddasala tried to get Bull to rejoin the Qun? There was a moment shorter than a second where she expected him to agree. At the time she pushes it down, then pushes it down further, and keeps pushing until it erupts on its own.

Even better is this only happens in her solo worldstate. Her paranoia’s been at max for the entire game and on top of that she’s dealing with the mental, physical, and emotional trauma of the Mark nearly killing her and losing her hand.

30. One headcanon about this OTP that mends it

Bull finds out. Kendra doesn’t come right out and say it, but at one point she snaps and enough comes out that Bull gets it. His response is, “Yeah that’s your paranoid as hell brain being smart?”

Basically it’s the support Kendra gets from him and the famelyan that helps this one. Especially Darrell, with whom a rough conversation of "Talk to someone.” / “To whomst.” / “To me.” takes place and he becomes his sister’s quasi-therapist so she can vent to someone she trusts.

Caedan/Morrigan

Just say you want to romance Caedan and go.

3. Most common argument?

If Caedan gets it into his head he wants to argue a point there is no getting him to stop. It doesn’t matter if he knows he’s wrong; he’s finally in a place he can talk back without Chantry-enforced consequences and he’s going to take full advantage.

They both have issues with conflict due to their upbringings. For both of them it can manifest as either aversion or heightening, and they’ve each stepped over the line a few times with some minor offense. (That being said they are extremely aware of what triggers the other and avoid stepping on those landmines at all costs.)

As for what they argue the most over: interpretations and castings of spells.

28. What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Caedan’s canonically a stay at home dad and I love that for him. On top of caring for (and eventually teaching) Kieran, he does his own experiments in magic. Usually blood magic. He loves experimenting with blood magic.

Morrigan likes making things. Generally they come in the shape of small crafts she puts around their home as protective charms, to look pretty, or just because she can. Sometimes they come in the shape of enchanted objects like a snow-globe with infinitely falling snow, or a fireplace that acts like modern day heating.

29. One headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart

Caedan very, very nearly didn’t do the dark ritual when Morrigan presented it to him. Logically he knew Morrigan had her own reasons for being there (she certainly wasn’t helping them kill the archdemon out of the goodness of her heart) but it hit hard that this was the reason she had. In the moment, he saw it as a type of betrayal. Because of Alistair (and the other three in the multi protags worldstate) he recognized this was something bigger than him and his feelings on the matter so he agreed to it.

After Morrigan left Caedan was a complete wreck. This was the point in his life when his alcoholic tendencies were at the worst risk of taking over. A large part of it was due to the trauma of growing up in the Circle where people had disappeared on him before and he either never learned what happened to them or they came back Tranquil. Caedan trained himself not to think about it when people vanished from his life and it took a lot of time for the others to convince him it was okay for him to even miss her. Oh, and he tracked time and kept the emotions ring so he knew roughly when their kid was born.

30. One headcanon about this OTP that mends it

I mean they’re together in the end so it works out fine but fuck, you two really had to do this to me on the way there?

#ask #greyvvardenfell #rey #dragon age #arcana #skylar #kendra trevelyan #caedan amell #lucio #iron bull #morrigan #otp: live inside you #otp: light up the night #otp: i'm making war #i said it as a joke but y'know what *y'know what* i can see caedan + reydis and it is good #the sex would be amazing if nothing else #the [redacted] in skylar's is just them leaving vesuvia like you already know they do #but there is a real spoiler in there #:3c #so kind of you to put the tom hanks gif on my dash when i needed it however did u know? #speaking of. rey. rey. you have *no idea* how long i've wanted to talk about that one