#everyone wants to play dead by daylight all the fucking time.. and will literally refuse to put it down

[anyu-blue]

~

#personal #life in general #random #ignore me #negative #don't mind me... just over here having a pity party cuz i keep making myself sad #trying to share things with my sisters and getting everything thrown out #like i get it.. some things just aren't your thing... #and it's best to say it outright rather than be miserable and play along... #except unless I play along I don't get any time or anything with anyone... #everyone wants to play dead by daylight all the fucking time.. and will literally refuse to put it down #or do anything else... so either i play a horror game i have zero interest in or i dont get to spend #any time with my sisters or cousins... not that i get to anyway because of my sleep schedule... #but if EVER there is an opportunity... that's it. no other games. nothing. #i tried to share a new one today that a friend shared with me. app called Plato #you can literally play some of these games via turns whenever you have time #so i could make a move when i wake up and they could make a move when they're up #and maybe we could play occasionally when we're all up.. #nope. complete rejection.. doesn't matter that some of their favorite board games are the ones #you can make turn based... like... dudes.. I'm trying... #but it's too much work... nevermind that not a single one will join in my other games or interests #I'm so tired of being left behind and left out.. it feels awful... #like don't fucking sit there and complain you never get to see me or do things with me #and rip my head off for it and for staying up to try and get some social interaction in with you #when I'M doing all the fucking work.... i get it.. some things just aren't people's things... #that's fine... but completely refusing to try. ANYTHING. just wow

[laddieseddiemunster]

Can you do a lost boys x reader where the reader is getting sent love notes by an unknown person. (A secret admirer). Like notes are being left on her front door. How would the boys react to that?

I haven’t done one of these in forever. I assume you mean fem!reader cause you put ‘her’. Hope you enjoy :)

The Lost Boys x Fem!Reader That Has a Secret Admirer

David

David knows that lots of guys/girls would love to be yours, but there is no way they’re going to have that chance. With David around? No way. David doesn’t get jealous very easily, unless he feels like he’s being threatened. Like if he feels like someone actually might steal you away from him, then he’ll feel jealous. Whenever David does feel jealous he always hides it. He doesn’t want to seem like an overthinking clingy boyfriend to you.

When notes started being left at your front door, David thought nothing of it. Love notes? He thought that was kind of cheesy, and there’s no way your secret admirer would have the guts to approach you when you had David around. Flowers with chocolates? Okay, now he’s a little bit interested. A note saying that your secret admirer wants to meet you at a certain place and certain time? Okay, that’s it. Now David has had enough, and he wants to know who this person is.

David will try his best not to show that he’s jealous, but on the inside he’s ready to kill your secret admirer. He knows that you are gorgeous, but that doesn’t give anyone the right to try to steal you away from him. If the notes and flowers made you uncomfortable, David wouldn’t hesitate to get ready for murder. David believes that if someone is bothering you, then it’s his job to get rid of them. If you didn’t care too much for the notes, David still would want to know who your secret admirer is.

If it was a little boy/girl sending you the love notes, David would be pretty shocked. He wouldn’t exactly know what to do since he expected them to be a lot older. (little kid as in ages 5-11). When he found out he didn’t know what to say. He’s was actually pretty impressed that a young kid was able to write the love notes so romantically. David knows now that killing your secret admirer is out of the question. Mainly cause you wouldn’t let him, and even David doesn’t like killing kids. All David would do is just tell the kid that you are taken, but that they could still be friends with you.

If it was someone around your age that wanted you, David would get his fangs ready. No creep is gonna make you uncomfortable and get away with it. At first he’d let your admirer know that you are taken. If he/she apologizes then David would let them go...for the night. Once you’re asleep he’s kill them. No matter what the reaction of your admirer is, David is still gonna murder them.

If your secret admirer is someone a lot older than you (like middle age or older) David would be disgusted. He definitely didn’t expect someone that’s twice your age to be sending you love letters. David would be ready to kill them immediately. He wouldn’t even bother telling the person that you’re taken. All David would want is to see the person die. He thinks that the disgusting person deserved it for going after someone who’s not only uninterested, but a lot younger than them.

Dwayne

Dwayne is aware that lots of people would kill to have you, but Dwayne has a lot of faith in you. He knows you wouldn’t cheat on him, but that doesn’t stop him from getting jealous at times. Dwayne overthinks when he gets jealous. The last thing he’d ever want is for you to leave him for someone else. Whenever Dwayne is jealous he gets a little bit protective. Anyone who looks at you at the boardwalk is getting a dirty look. He’ll never tell you when he’s jealous since he usually realizes quickly that he had just been overreacting.

When the first love note was dropped at your door, Dwayne was a little taken aback. He thought it was a little strange that someone would leave notes saying that they loved you yet they hadn’t even met you yet. The jealousy started to rise in Dwayne when flowers started to appear at your doorstep. Even though you didn’t know this person, Dwayne already knew that your secret admirer wasn’t going to stop sending you flowers and notes until they had you for themselves. They really were in love with you, and that made Dwayne’s blood boil.

Since Dwayne didn’t know who was sending you the notes, he had no clue who to look out for on the boardwalk. Dwayne doesn’t usually get clingy when he’s jealous, but in this case he did. While you were at the boardwalk with him, he either had his arm around your shoulder, or he was wrapping them around your waist. Dwayne didn’t want to take any chances. If your secret admirer was watching you, then Dwayne wanted them to know that you’re taken. Since he didn’t know what your secret admirer looked like, Dwayne death starred anyone who gave you a flirtatious look. No one is taking his girl.

Eventually, Dwayne did find out who your secret admirer was. If it was a young kid (ages 5-11), Dwayne would have been a little embarrassed. He had been jealous over nothing. Obviously this little kid wasn’t going to be able to steal you away from Dwayne. He thought it was adorable that this little kid was sending you notes and flowers, but he also felt a little bad cause he didn’t want to break the kids heart. Dwayne told the child in the most polite way he could that you were taken. Of course he didn’t kill the kid. Dwayne would never kill a child even if he was forced to.

If it was someone around your age, Dwayne’s jealousy level would have skyrocketed. He would definitely tell the person that you were taken and to stop sending the notes and flowers. If the person apologized and promised to never to do it again, Dwayne would let them go. He’s not really a revenge type of guy. Unless the person refused to stop sending notes. Then Dwayne would be out to kill, and your secret admirer would never see daylight again.

If your secret admirer was someone much older than you (middle age or older) Dwayne would definitely make sure that their face ends up on a missing poster. Someone the age of your parents sending you love letters? Dwayne found that to be just flat out disgusting. Dwayne is usually a pretty polite and mature guy, but if this person was making you feel uncomfortable then Dwayne will make sure that they’re dead by that night.

Paul

Paul isn’t one to get jealous all that easily. It’s pretty rare when he does. He knows that there are many people in the world who would love to steal you away, but he knows that they have no chance. With a vampire like Paul around you almost all the time? Yeah, there’s no way anyone would have the guts to approach you. The only times Paul does get jealous is if someone else made you laugh or smile. It might sound silly, but it’s a big deal for Paul. No one should make you laugh or smile but him and only him.

When the love notes started to appear at your door, Paul thought it was kind of humorous. Someone chicken didn’t have the guts to approach you, so they used cheesy love notes. When flowers appeared at your doorstep, Paul started to get a little suspicious. He didn’t want to seem jealous, but he doesn’t hide it very well at all. The second you commented on the nice flowers, Paul started to get annoyed and whiny. Someone you didn’t even know had just made you smile, and for that Paul already hated your secret admirer.

Paul didn’t want to loose you over someone you didn’t even know, so he decided two can play at that game. If someone was going to send you love notes and flowers, then Paul was going to do the same. Every time he saw some flowers and notes at your front door, he’d get rid of them and put some flowers and notes that he bought you on your doorstep. Of course he didn’t tell you, but you still managed to find out. You found out when you recognized Paul’s handwriting on one of the notes. Paul denied it of course, but he still wanted to know who your secret admirer was.

If it was a young boy/girl (ages 5-11), Paul would have been extremely relieved, and also surprised. This little kid really know what he/she wants, but unfortunately they’re not going to be able to get it. Paul was a little disappointed that he couldn’t exactly rub it in this kids face that you were taken. He felt bad for breaking it to the kid, but he explained to him/her that rejection is part of life. Not exactly in Paul’s life but in everyone else’s life. He’d also probably dab up the kid and tell them that they have good taste.

If it was someone around your age, Paul would be ready to embarrass the hell out of them. He’d start by walking up to him/her on the boardwalk with you under his arm, and the Paul would tell them, “Sorry! She’s taken! Find someone else to stalk and give love notes to!” as loud as he could so other people at the boardwalk would hear. If you’d tell him to stop he’d be like, “Aww, come on babe! It was funny!”. After completing embarrassing them, Paul would end the embarrassment by killing your admirer that night.

If your secret admirer was someone much older than you (middle age or older) Paul would probably start laughing his ass off. This person who was twice your age really had the audacity to try and win you over. Paul was not laughing sarcastically, it was real. He laughed so hard he lost his breath. He’d look at you and go “this old fuck is your secret admirer?!” before cracking up once again. Paul made sure that the person was thoroughly embarrassed before telling them you were his girlfriend. After that fiasco, Paul still killed your admirer, and tried not to laugh when doing so.

Marko

Marko does get jealous, and when he does it’s easy to tell. He usually gets jealous when some guy on the boardwalk looks at you or catcalls you. It’s hard to not realize that Marko is jealous when he’s literally up and punching this guy in the jaw for what he did. Marko won’t admit that he was jealous though, he’ll just say it was his job to beat up that guy. I wouldn’t ever make Marko jealous on purpose cause he’d literally paralyze anyone who winks at you.

When the first love note appeared at your front door Marko thought it was the most cliche thing he’d ever read. Whoever wrote this was totally head over heels for you. It took everything out of Marko to not find out whoever this person was and beat the shit out of them. When the flowers appeared at your doorstep, Marko was down right finished with this. He wanted to beat up your secret admirer so badly. But, there was one problem. He didn’t know who it was.

Marko didn’t really know what to do since he had no clue what your secret admirer looked like, so he looked for anyone that looked like they wanted you. When he saw someone flirt with you? The bomb just exploded, and Marko was on top of that person beating the shit out of them. He punched them so hard that it left bruises on his knuckles. Marko had done this before you had a secret admirer, but now he was ready to beat up anyone who looked at you just in case they’d be your secret admirer.

If your secret admirer turned out to be a little kid (ages 5-11) Marko would’ve felt like an idiot. He was also absolutely flabbergasted that this little kid was able to send you letter and flowers without ever having an officially meeting you. Marko was quite impressed. This kid was confident. But, unfortunately Marko had to break the news to the kid that you were taken. In a way he was a little disappointed that he couldn’t beat up your secret admirer since it was a kid. Instead, Marko told them that there is plenty of fish in the sea, and the right one for them will come soon enough.

If your secret admirer turned out to be someone around your age, let’s just say Marko would leave a dent in their face. A big one. When Marko first found out who it was he wanted to throw up. It was another young guy/girl that wanted to steal you away, and there is no way in hell that Marko would let that happen. The second Marko had the opportunity he had his fist meeting your admirers face. He punched them a few more times before he was taken away by some security. That night, Marko finished the job, and your admirers face was now on a missing poster.

If your secret admirer was someone much older than you (middle age or older) Marko would have been totally grossed out. This old person was in love with you? In a way he felt bad for you. Marko was ready to beat the shit out of your admirer the minute he saw them. Especially now that he knew there was at least a 30 year difference between you two. Marko didn’t care if he looked bad beating up someone who was old. They’re a disgusting pig for trying to get with someone much younger than them, so in Marko’s eyes they deserved it. Marko did end up killing them, and he even didn’t bother eating the remains.

#the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys paul #the lost boys marko #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys headcanon #the lost boys imagines #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #lost boys david #lost boys dwayne #lost boys paul #lost boys marko #david lost boys #dwayne lost boys #paul lost boys #marko lost boys

[flowerflamestars]

I'm in a very angry-with-the-IC-and-Rhys-in-particular mood, and since I'm just rereading Daylight I was wondering, what is going through Rhysand's mind throughout the events of Daylight? Because it's basically his entire life CRUMBLING around him and I'd love to see the mental gymnastics he does to fit it all into his "I'm the good guy, actually" narrative. Or just his general reaction.

this is a FABULOUS question, thank you!

Daylight! Rhys is, in my opinion, the closest to a canonical (pre-acosf) character representation that I go for. He's so SO fucked up, and sublimating and burying all that trauma has, of course, failed, and it's all manifesting, in all these different directions.

To understand the level on which Rhys is losing his shit, it's important to go back to the very beginning: Rhysand, to Rhysand, is always, always the hero of the story. The down on his luck knight with truth in his heart. The struggling, just man.

He CANNOT seeing beyond himself for even a second. He casts himself in the most important role, as the only person whose personal consequences exist.

His mother, at probable great risk, takes him to Illyria to be trained- the precious, first-born, godly son of Night. To learn to fight- to learn, presumably, her culture- to see what that culture is reduced to, a harshness he will on day have the power to change. Rhys had to be, at some point, a great hope for Not High Fae denizens of the Court.

What does Rhysie learn? Illyria is harsh. Illyria is bad. Backwards and cruel.

He hates his father for...presumably, the crime of being a pretty traditional High Lord? Rhys hates the cruelties! the Court of Nightmares! the broken system!

So what does Rhys do when he has power? he fires everyone. He doesn't like them, he doesn't like whatever they did under his father...so instead of hiring new people, he removes himself entirely from a potential role in changing/mitigating those policies. See also: the Court of Nightmares, cowed occasionally, but not in any way governed by Rhys.

But he's the hero! He's destroyed the oppression! His Court of Just his Bros is made of women and Illyrians!

(Rhys removed the terribleness from his direct experience...because only his experiences matter)

So, Rhys in his head: the struggle, the hero, the man just trying to do it right.

Which brings us to Daylight....and Feyre. I know we can attribute the way the characters stop even remotely being sympathetic between acomaf and...everything else...to poor writing, but I also think there's some (maybe accidental but PERFECT) character work there: in acomaf, pre-acknowledged bond, Feyre is an important possession/ally- she's on the same level as the other members of the Court of Dreams, if the jewel of the collection, a high point in the story Rhys tells himself: HE saved the HERO OF PRYTHIAN

(which...let's not even touch on the fact that the deal he makes in acotar is CREEPY and he can only justify it later. she wasn't someone he wanted to work with in acotar- she was a vulnerable, hot young woman he fully took advantage of)

And then they're mates.

And then, slowly but surely, Feyre's personhood disappears. For two reasons: 1) Feyre is on a pedestal so sky-high it blots out everything. Good, pure, true hero Feyre whose adoration Rhysand needs like air. the happy end of his story, the prize and the salvation, the one who sees him.

and 2) ultimately, to Rhys, Feyre is an extension of him. A symbol: his happiness, his peace, his endless power, what he fought to keep.

She's his whole anchor staying sane, which isn't great, considering...ya know, everything. But the Story is Over. They are Happy.

Except- except- nothing is over. Post fifty straight years of torture, a freefall into war and fuckery, teen marriage and literal death, the consequences for all those things AND THE SHIT RHYS WAS PULLING LONG BEFORE AMARANTHA TURNED HIM INTO A CHEW TOY, are still present.

But now, he has something to protect. His golden future. His puppy Mate.

Because Feyre's safety is the safety of his power and vice versa. Anything he does is justifiable because the loss of Feyre is Not an Option. She is Happy. They Are Happy.

It bleeds into everything- and then it intensifies, because this is the breaking point.

The Az/Lucien thing and Feyre incredibly hurtful blindness? No Rhys isn't going to interfere- Az is so private anyway- if Feyre believes its a romantic bond, Feyre is right, she knows her sister, not that it matters because Elain is totally out of her mind.

Sending Cassian to Illyria? Illyria is a backwards shithole right? They're fierce fighters and that's what Rhys values them for- as the hammer of his power- and nothing else? why would there be anything else? Look at them fighting and hurting each other.

Nesta runs and Cassian is left throwing himself in battles actively trying to die and Rhys? Rhys is totally smug. A problem that hurt Feyre and his brother is GONE.

But it's not gone. Az isn't talking to anyone- and Rhys thinks this probably means Lucien is probably, finally fucking him- but even Feyre understands that Azriel knows where Nesta is. When this is proved (when Elain surfaces and they have the very fun kitchen fight) Rhys isn't happy- but he understands. Azriel has always felt responsible for broken things.

But thats not his job, it's Rhysands job, and Rhys has already made that tough choice for the safety of his own: Nesta has no place here. When she resurfaces inevitably, broke and wanting something, Rhys will stop her before she gets close enough to upset (hurt) Feyre. It's his job.

Cassian goes missing, and Rhysand sets upon what will become his eventual move: Illyria's value is strength. (a martial strength that belongs to RHYS). But they think they can take from him? They can destroy their own best chance? (Rhys recognizes Cassian's value to Illyria even while, you know, ordering him to slaughter Illyrians) They would threaten his power? hurt his family?

Rhys will not allow a world to exist where Feyre can be hurt.

If Illyria can't be controlled, Illyria will be put down, like the rabid creatures they are. (They were always backwards, Rhys thinks. Freeing my mother was the one good thing my father ever did)

But Cassian lives.

Rhys asks Azriel if he's been cursed. Az laughs in his face.

And Cassian is a terrible enemy to have. The strategies the loyalists are using? His, filtered through Rhys. The magical contingencies? Cassian and Az, trying to prevent bloodshed.

Feyre thinks, for a long time, that maybe the rebels have Nesta. What else could compel Cassian to even care? these people keep trying to kill him. they want to kill Rhys. the brothers suffered in the frozen mud at the hands of these monsters, what is Cassian doing?

And then the massacre happens.

And Feyre sick to her stomach, cries when she hears. Rhysand thinks about a little hazel eyed boy who'd never had a bed, a present, who'd been nothing until Rhysand plucked him up- a little boy who'd grown into a dangerous man, who'd just killed every person who ever contributed to his pain. Rhys thinks, knowing he'll have to punish Cassian for this, that it's over.

The camp lords are dead, it has to be over.

(Azriel hears and understands- because he knows damn well Cassian was something before Rhysand, and after despite him. That beneath those repeatedly broken ribs is a heart that was once so big so save him, grown strong enough now to save everyone who was like them: forgotten, abandoned, used.)

It's not over. The mountains are burning. Banners fly on northern wind in a language long dead. They're singing, the spies say, they call him dawn. Loyal-heart-as-dawn.

It's Cassians name. Not that Rhys, who never knew more than a few vile insults in the language of his mother's ancient, proud people, understood it then.

Rhysand, the long-suffering hero of his own story, has been betrayed.

He can risk no more- it's time to end this madness. It's Feyre's idea to use Elain- it's Feyre who is left crying, a betrayal Rhysand will never forget- when Elain, who they've given everything, Elain, perhaps just as broken and wretched as her eldest sister, refuses to help keep Feyre safe.

(Elain refuses to participate in what she sees as genocide, but as we've established, what consequences exist? the ones Rhys feels right in front of his face)

Azriel, Elain, and Lucien run.

Of course, if both Feyre's sisters are capable of betraying her, of course, both of Rhysand's brothers would as well. They are one in the same, aren't they? Marked by destiny, by fate for this hard and terrible work- of course it hurts. Of course- but Rhysand will stop it from hurting Feyre any more.

There's one force in the world that can stand in truth against Illyria. The Darkbringers- their ancestral, ancient conquers.

(Yes, I do think Rhys knows the shitty, shitty history of his court! He just doesn't care! He didn't do it. He's different. He's in Velaris with the common people. He has wings. He's not his father.)

(He is, in fact, far worse)

When he thinks of it, it seems perfect. Illyria will be destroyed- a loss, but a safe one. Keir, will, almost certainly, also be destroyed or at least critically weakened.

Rhysand will stand alone, the man who was willing to do anything for peace. He will rule over an emptied playing field, secure in a world where Feyre is safe.

The Hewn City empties, the armies march- Rhysand holds tight Feyre's hand, says nothing about the fact that nothing, nothing, will stop Keir from killing anyone in front of him when battle starts, and reaches once more for Cassian's mind.

His brother, his friend, his loyal right hand- he begs him to come back. To come home. That they can put down this rebellion and in his love for Cassian everything can go back to how it is meant to be, all of them together.

It does not occur to him to address the hundreds dead. The system he was complicit in and responsible for that ground a culture to dust and ash- what matters is brother against brother should never have turned, and Rhys, in his kindness, will offer Cassian this last chance for honor.

Rhys doesn't want Cassian to die- he wants Cassian by his side- but he will drown the world in blood before he'll lose his crown and hope and Feyre.

And when Cassian dies, falling to the earth in Rhysand's arms, Rhys thinks of penance.

A circle closed.

But of course- Cassian wakes. Death is not done with her right hand anymore than the contract between Lordship and land in immutable. Cassian brought the magic back, brought Illyria back.

Rhys is fighting for something personal- Cassian is fighting for a whole world and future, with everything in himself.

When the new border is drawn, Rhys doesn't despair- sure he's shaking, he's covered in Cassian's blood, his twelve thousand year old walls are smoking and the whole world smells like fucking Nesta Archeron- he's been the victim of curses before.

He won't let it keep him down. He'll be fine. He has Feyre, they're safe. Illyria is going to implode- and maybe, maybe, he'll save some of those that remain when the violence is too much, when they need a real High Lord.

They'll come home. Just like Feyre's sisters will. Rhysand's brothers. They fought for peace and Velaris has it- it is their home.

It's what they fought for, the happy ending, and it's all worth it.

It has to be worth it.

#Rhys is deadset a huge narcissist #and in the middle of a breakdown the entirety of daylight #he's SO HURT #But's turning all that hurt into anger #and an even stricter paranoia #its all catching up to him #everything from imperialism #to the shitty way he treated his friends #to the Winter Massacre that yes was absolutely him #this is more of a Shoreless Concept but all of feysand can be summed up #by Feyre making teary BUT WE'RE FAMILY demands and Rhys immediately committing a literal warcrime #and like #I do think Rhys hates himself too #but for wildly the wrong reasons #and never more or in a real way that overcomes how much he thinks everything he does is right #Cassian's death was a cost to them #as Nesta tells Feyre: what's done cannot be undone. Rhys chose wrong #the truly bonkers Rhys thing in canon #will always be that he's both represented as Most Powerful Ever #and the wrongly ignored underdog #when in fact he throws around power constantly for petty shitty reasons

[snowgoldwaylon]

I've Got You! - Frank Woods x reader, part two

TW: Blood, strong language, violence, GSW (Gun Shot Wound)

You woke up in a white, bland room. It smelled like sterilized hallways. You knew immediately that it was a hospital because you heard and saw the IVs and bedside full of flowers and stuffed animals with cards.

You don't remember what happened, just a few gunshots and Adler being lifted into the air. You hoped you got Adler out as planned since you didn't remember a single thing from the Operation.

You looked around the room and saw a dark bag sitting in one single chair in a lonely corner, close to your bed. You wondered who's it was, and why. You couldn't place a finger on it......

Your door opened and it caught you off guard. Your head whipped around, and it caused immense pain to shoot through your temples. With a hiss, you opened your eyes and saw two men approach your bed.

"Oh my god, Y/N! You are finally awake!" One said, rushing to you.

It was Adler. And Frank right behind him. Frank called for a nurse and came straight back over to you. You tried sitting up but your heart quite literally skipped a beat. This caused you pain and a large gasp.

You fell straight back down and heaved for air.

"Easy Y/N, just lay back for fucks sake! Where the hell is the nurse??" Frank said with frustration, hitting your call button on the bed.

Adler took his arm and pulled it away.

"Calm down you jackass, one is coming! C'mon, you are freaking Y/N out!" Adler disciplined Frank.

A nurse came in and helped you out before leaving. You finally looked back at the boys with confusion.

"What the hell even happened to me while I was out? Why am I here, and why am I wrapped up like a mummy??" You said in a slight panic.

Frank came to your side, taking your hand. His eyes and look softened. He completely changed around you for some reason. You had this man in a trance.

"Y/N, you got shot, point-blank in the chest by Stitch. It was a mistake, nobody saw how he hid so conveniently up in the ceiling rafters as he waited with a whole team until we were busy. Once you placed Adler onto the board, he jumped down. But you somehow got Doc here to safety." He said, using his other hand to pat Adler.

"That's when he signaled the ambush, and you gave him a run for his money. You both fought hand to hand for at least a couple of minutes until he caught a blind spot for you and took your arm in a painful twist. He ended up breaking it, then he shot you in the chest with 1911.....All of us were being rushed by a whole fuckin' army.....I didn't see everything..." Frank trailed off.

He wiped away a single tear and went on with the shocking story. Did Frank Woods just shed a tear??

"After he shot you, we finally had the enemies thinned out to where we could help. That's when I saw you, face down by his boot, blood pooling quick and your magnum to your right temple. That's when I spear tackled the bastard and beat the living daylights out of him. He is now in lock up at HQ."

Adler smiled down at you and handed you a gorgeous bouquet of red tulips.

"That's right kid, you saved my life. But you put your own on the line, you all did. That's when you should have pulled away. I told all of you not to do dumb shit like that." Adler said.

Suddenly, all the memories came flooding back for you. The gunshot, the fight, the very caring and concerned Frank carrying you...

"So, the mission was a success. Adler, how the hell are you even able to stand right now? You were nearly dead when we found you!" You exclaimed.

He chuckled and ashed his cigarette.

"Don't know kid, I just know I'm here thanks to you. So that's why I'm here, to do this." He said, pulling something from his pocket.

Frank smiled, and lightly squeezed your hand. He looked joyed and excited!

Adler started to read from a white paper, which played in a black frame with gold edging.

"On June 15th, 1985, the brave and diligent Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N set a plan in motion for the recovery of an MIA operative and completed op. After receiving serious injury, Y/L/N will receive the highest-ranking officer and assume leadership position for sacrifice, and hard work." He handed you the frame, and you were completely in shock.

Frank sobbed quietly. He was so proud.

Adler handed you a black box that had a beautiful shiny, gold pendant inside. You gasped upon seeing the description.

"Let it be known from this day forward, you are officially in charge. Welcome to the CIA, officer Y/L/N." He said, pinning the pendant to a beautiful set of dress blues he pulled out.

You cried and tried to give back the award. There was no way this was yours...

"Adler, I can't take this. Please take it." You said, but he refused.

"No way kid, you deserve it. Just keep it safe until you recover and rejoin the Safehouse crew!" He said.

Adler's radio came on, and he stepped out. You turned to look towards Frank, your tears now flowing freely.

"I want everyone to have the credit, all of you not just me Frank! It's not fair. I wasn't the only one there to rescue him fr-" You were going to finish, but you were cut off with a soft pair of lips on yours.

The whole world froze for you at that moment. Frank puller back with a small pant. He smiled and stroked your hair.

"

That was all you Y/N. You have the brains and strength. We just have the strength." He said with a laugh.

You laughed as well and pulled him close.

He took the time to whisper very softly to you, holding you closer than ever.

"I told you I had you. And I do, I always will."

#black ops cold war #cold war #frank woods #frank woods x reader #russell adler #vikhor stitch kuzmin #one shot #helen park

[the-satellite]

Hello friends and welcome to ☆Hateful Nostalgia☆. I was exposed to the mob talker mod WAY too young bc I was an unsupervised child on the internet watching mod showcases and SkyDoesMinecraft. Looking back these sucked, the stories were often bland and the designs were milk toast at best and tits out at worst. So for the sake of procrastinating on working on anything substantial I grabbed the main 6 I remembered and gussied em up. Redesigns, rewrites, better names, all that bullshit. If your interested in better photos, design notes, story details and rambling hit the basement, otherwise here's a line up you should click for better quality.

Also I wrote all this once before already but I deleted it like a dumb bitch. On the night Unus Annus was murdered in front of my eyes no less. Was a rough fuckin night.

The Creeper- Kupa. An explosive pyromaniac with a habit of making empty threats and yelling. She protects what she believes to be her territory with a suicidal passion, but if you manage to get her to cool down and soften up she's pretty sick to hand out with. Hard of hearing, has at least one bout of head trauma at all times, and deathly allergic to cats.

Because the creeper is kinda the og I wanted to reference AT2's design more than the others, but I'm p sure the only thing I actually kept was the red hair and brown gloves. Otherwise I was doing whatever. I really wanted to lean into the explody bit of creepers, so I gave her some bite and dressed her in clothes referenced from Irish railroad workers. This may also be why I keep imaging her with a very heavy Irish or Scottish accent, whichever would be most incomprehensible when angry. Every color but her skin was color picked from one of the references, with some minor alterations for makes my eyes happy reasons.

With Kupa I imagine a story line with her would largely be about her as a character and her development than like an actual adventure narrative like everyone else. She starts off ready to blow up both you and herself in a misguided attempt to defend what she sees as her's and opens up and learns not everyone is out to get her. Lots of time taken to understand her childhood and how she ended up how she is. Very simple, probably the default or tutorial run people would go through.

The Zombie- Bee. The ill husk of a missing explorer suffering from a less than conventional appetite. She wallows in her self imposed loneliness, believing herself to be an irredeemable monster doomed to hurt those around her. What she really needs is a buddy and some clue to who she used to be. Rough voiced, chronically fatigued, and prone to spontaneous combustion in sunlight.

 I definitely consider this one the weakest for design sadly. I imagined Zombies as humans who went into strange caves and caverns and didn't come out for years, only to pop up as completely different people. I just tossed AT2's design. The first thing I did was make her a bit of a genderbent Steve and tinted her green bc Zombies in game are just Steve but green. Tore up her clothes, colored picked the darkest colors I could from the clothes on the in game and boom, Bee. I do vaguely regret not making her eyes pure black but I also still wanted her to be human enough to fit with the other overworld mods.

 Ok so Bee actually has a basic story. When you meet her she's aggressive, but as a warning. She fears the possibility she may hurt somebody so heads for threats immediately. Going back and forth between her cave and village for a while you learn more about the situation with the missing folks who come back and Bee as a person. After a bit you pick her up off her depressed ass and start a nocturnal adventure of refinding your past, adapting to who your becoming, overcoming self destuction, and slow burn babey!!! 

The Skeleton- Ulna. One of the few surviving warriors of a now destroyed kingdom and dead culture. She spends most of her time now traveling alone, hiding in trees and shooting anything see sees as a threat- which is everything- in the face with homemade arrows. Very much suffering from loss of her home and a bad case of lost purpose. A woman of few words, very antisocial, and naturally nocturnal.

 I came in with the Skeleton wanting to make her seem mysterious, so my first thought was immediately a cloak and a mask, but I wanted her face to like be visible so I went with the face paint. I didn't actually know that I wanted to do under there so I went with wraps that are reminiscent of the original outfit but still not tits out bc it's so fucking easy! Gave her a quiver, color picked the cloak and face paint from the in game model and the wraps from AT2'S art. I did like. Subconsciously draw her eyes the way I do Asian characters but I didn't have anything specific in mind so like go nuts with what you think she is.

 Ulna's deal is very much her lack of purpose or home and the entire thing is about finding that again. She's found sitting up in a tree during a storm pointing a bow and arrow into your face. She eventually let's you stick around until the storm is over and theres some bonding into deep night until the rain stops. You ask if she wants to come with on your little travelling sword for hire business, she says sure, sleep schedule shenanigans, backstory angst, and road trip bonding happens and she eventually decides that helping people is her new purpose and you're her new home

The Spider- Park. A young adult experiencing the world for the first time through her tribe's rite of passage. She's really just trying to figure out how to live life outside of the cave she's been stuck in her entire life and aggressively trying to be an independent adult despite not knowing anything about being an independent adult. Its projection. Blind in the daylight, naive and excitable, and taken to refusing help at her own risk.

 Ok so. I don't know who looked at the spider and said "purple haired loli with puffy pants" so I once again yeeted the whole thing, only really keeping the kinda cutesy and childish bits. Spiders are a tribe of humans what live in caves unless they've broken off to live on the surface. Kids are kept inside until they hit a certain milestone, where they come up to explore at night. They're usually small and pale, but are pretty kickass when necessary. Again picked the colors off the in game model, played with the lightest gray for the skin, and bc I couldn't figure out anyway to use the stripes so they're on the patches lol.

 Park's meeting is probably the funniest and most meet cute one here, in that she accidentally drops on top of you from a little cliff drop off. Cue loads of apologies and an explanation about the spider deal and being blind in light. She asks for some help getting around and bam babey friendship and emotional attachment! What follows is kinda a buddy of coming of age story with the obligatory goes home and is miserable scene. Generally it's just about being a scared young adult and having someone to fall back on and why that's important. Also crushes and young people being bad at that.

 The Blaze- Amber. A demonic entity who would let the world burn and the sun die if it meant she'd get her soul back. She's known for being ruthless, taking souls through force instead of making deals like other Blazes. Keeps this forceful nature even once she's become friendly, makes you do dump shit. Territorial, eyes glow and dim with her life, and runs remarkably warm.

 Amber here is the first one I actually did! I was just. Really tired that she was in a bikini. I decided early on I wanted overworld mobs to be human and everyone else was decidedly not, so Blazes are demons who gave up their souls under false pretenses to other Blazes. Because of how little clothes AT2's design wore I had essentially free reign and my thought was immediately to lean on golden knight bc of how Blazes are found protecting fortresses. The gold isn't picked from anything bc I was looser with the colors, but everything else is, and the hair is supposed to represent the smoke. Also the sticks in her hair are blaze rods bc I don't like them just floating around her.

Amber is found in the Nether obviously, protecting a fortress and immediately trying beat your ass and either incinerate you or make you give up your soul. During you prove yourself a p damn good fighter and she makes a deal to show you how Blazes exist and pursade you to give your soul up willingly. Bonding happens and she explains where the souls go and what happened to her. Insert line about how she dug in the sand for her soul until her fingers bleed bc I'm an Arcana freak lol. In general I'd just like her to learn to adapt to who she is now and learning to live life well instead of letting her anger burn her up from the inside out.

 The Enderman- Violet. A confused but sweet young bit of void created by and connected to the Ender Dragon. Her relationship with reality is tenuous at best and abusive at worst, making stable existence rather difficult. She doesn't know a name, age, gender, anything about herself aside from that she likes sweaters. Communicates primarily through psychic connections, docile and sweet, and melts like a witch in water.

 Violet was incredibly easy, so this may be way short. Endermen are decidedly human shaped void from the End with varying sentience. They're direct extensions of the Ender Dragon, and nobody knows how they're made or where they come from, not even they do. Adventurers who escaped The End say they seem scared of it though. Violet in particular is pretty damn new and extraordinary nonconforming, and I tried to show that with her sweater and ponytail. Once again, literally all colors picked. Definitely the simplest but one of my favs.

Violet is the sweetest meet up I think. As your traveling between villages you notice a strange enderman watching you and plant a little flower in front of her. She picks it and you hear a happy little trill come from you and a pretty voice say thank you in your head. Now you have a tall dark teleporting travel buddy! After a little bit of back and forth she tells you in some broken English that the Ender Dragon made her but she doesnt know how, and that it's bad and needs to be killed for the sake of Endermen and that's the new goal. Spoiler they're the corrupted souls of those that died fighting it, with it gone Endermen are free to exist as their own being and do whatever, hurray!

#cosmic entity's art #minecraft #mob talker mod #mc creeper #mc zombie #mc skeleton #mc spider #mc blaze #mc enderman #character design

[lizzyandie]

I guess this is my life now (Dead by Daylight Fanfic)

I’m not dead, I swear. I just lost interest in Tumblr for a long time, but I might return on a semi-permanent basis. 

I found joy in writing again, so enjoy this small piece I created!

Warnings: Mention of alcohol

You don't remember much of your former life before the Trials. You have some glimps of a small house in a suburban neighbourhood. Was it yours, or maybe your family? Did you even have a family? Was the memory even real, or did that Thing put it in your head? A false glimmer of something happy? A comfort in this eternal Darkness? Who knows? You sure didn't. You didn't know much except that you needed to survive the Trials. They would happen once or twice a day, depending on what that Thing was up for. One thing was certain; You would be sacrificed most of the time.

That Thing, otherwise known as The Entity, ruled this realm. Or... Was it even a realm? Was this the afterlife? You wouldn't know, but you would believe those who were here before you. A gang of people, everyone stolen by the Entity, all from different places of the planet, maybe even different time-periods. They would tell you to not worry about anything. You would never die here, never feel hunger or feel the need to sleep. The quicker you became relaxed, the better it would be for you. "Don't let your guard down" they'd say. "But come to terms with you never leaving this place".  

The days were short and nights long. It was torture, so you would find a way to make the days go by. Is there even days here? Maybe the Entity just resets everything back to square one and it repeats itself over and over again. You didn't know, nor did you care. You were here, no way out. You were stuck here for all of eternity.

Whenever you were lucky enough to not be in a Trial you would wander the Realm. Get your mind off of things, maybe think of something else than being chased by a madman with a machette. Or chainsaw. Or shocktreatment... Not to worry about being sacrificed to the Entity. Your shoulder was numb after all the hookings. The hooking, feeling the blood run down your body was far too familiar to you now. But it was the Darkness that scared you. You were scared this was the last time you'd see it, feel it... Last time you'd take a breath. You shake the thoughts off of your mind for now. You wanted to clear your mind, not make it worse.

The Entity had opened a new doorway, a new place to be chased and sacrificed. The dusty worndown sign said "Glenvale". It looked like a old western town, dusty and abandoned. Anything left alive was a couple of crows and volchures. Old carriges were scattered around the streets, some watering trough was placed outside the saloon. The saloon was dusty like everything else, but the piano kept playing this tune. It made you uneasy, but it didn't bother you too much. The bar had some old bottles in the shelves, and the tables were barely standing. It reminded you of those old Western Cowboy movies. Movies... You remember movies. You would watch them every hour of the day if given the chance. You remember the screen, but not any faces. The actors were almost sensored from your mind, but not the scenery. The scenery plays so cleary in your head. Big cities, far away planets, the deep seas.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard footsteps. Heavy footsteps, rythmic and determend footsteps approached the saloon quickly. You shook the feeling of feeling secure out of your mind as your Survivor-instincts kicked in. You instantly hid behind the bar, hoping whoever was approaching didn't see you. You held your breath as you heard the creaking of the floorboards getting closer. You heard a loud thud and a groan followed by a chair by the bar creak. Someone was sitting by the bar. You cursed in your mind, regretting coming here. Now you were sure to die, you just knew it. You were sweating, shaking, but holding your breath. You had to get out without being seen.

You tilted your head back looking up. You saw a hat on the bar, a hat way to familiar. It belonged to the new Killer. We called him the Deathslinger. The  harpoongun must have been the thud you heard. But you didn't see the Killer, but you heard him. His breathing was deep and hoarse, but something was different. It sounded... tired? Exhausted?

You couldn't think about this, you had to get away!

You started to crawl on all four, being cautious with every move to not make a sound.

You made your way forward, slowly and silently.

Movement behind you!

You stop breathing and stop dead in your tracks, sweat dripping down your forhead down to the floorboards under you.

You slowly turn your head to see if the Killer was watching you. To your relief he was only stretching over the bar to grab one of the bottles. You let out the smallest sigh and keep crawling your way to the doors leading out of the saloon.

Creak

A lose floorboard. You stop once again, listening for movement. Nothing. It was dead silent. No movement, no...breathing. You slowly turn around to be face to face with the Killer. He must have seen you as he reached for the alcohol. You turn pale, you shake uncontrollably and your breath is panicked. You open your mouth ready to let out a shocked shriek.

The Killers hand covers your mouth, his face not changing expression. You're panicking even more, you grab his forearm and try to yanking it away. But he was too strong, and you knew it. This is it, you thought. This is how you die; in the hands of a Killer, literally.

"The hell you doin' here, girl?" He asked in a strict voice. "You ain't supposed to be 'ere." He let go of your mouth, but you didn't finish your shriek. You took a deep breath, relaxing your body and whiping the sweat off your face with the sleeve of your dirty and worn sweatshirt.

"I-I-I just wanted to-to-to..." You manage to stutter out a few words before he cuts you off, much angrier this time.

"Entity got yer tongue? Whatchu want 'ere, huh? Came 'ere to torment me more?"

Torment? The Killer? You slowly get on your feet, not taking your eyes off the Killers face. His face didn't look that  damaged here. Maybe the Entity does something to the Killers to make them look scarier. His eyes weren't white or glowing, they were... Blue, atleast something close to it. His scar covering half of his face in the Trials is nothing but a mark here. He looked like a human here.

"Tormen---Torment you?! You're the one hooking us! Besides, I just wanted to clear my head! It's not against the rules to wander!" You protest, crossing your arms to make your point. The Killer just waves his hand at you, gesturing for you to leave.

"Bah! I ain't got time for melodrama. girl. Either ya 'ave a drink with me or ya get the fuck out." He said in a tired manner, sitting down at the bar again.

Have a drink with the Killer? You're not sure if he's joking or not, but he's not chasing you.

He gestured for you to sit in the chair next to him.

"Ya comin' or what?" he asked, pouring two glasses with... something. The label was so faded you couldn't even see the color of the liquid inside. But by the looks of what was in the glass, it was old.

"Don't...you want to kill me?" You ask carefully. You were confused to say the least. Why on Earth would a Killer want to have a drink with a Survivor?

"I ain't gonna kill ya, don't ya worry. I just want some company, that's all." he shrugged, taking a sip from his drink. With a grimace on his face, he swallowed the liquid, shaking his head.

"Fucking 'ell, tastes like shit. But it calms the nerves, ya know?" He turned his gaze torwards you, racing his glass.

"It ain't poison, atleast not the deadly one." he chuckles. "Come on, humor me, would ya?".

You didn't like the idea of drinking with a Killer, but it was better than nothing. You made your way to the chair next to him, quickly grabbing the glass with the mysterious liquid. One quick smell of it made you gag, but you didn't want to offend the man who just offered you a drink. And he spared your life, who knows what he would do if you refused? You drink the liquid, forcing it down your throat. You cough, covering your mouth as you didn't want it in return. The Killer laughs, looking at you.

"As I said, it ain't the best. But ya'll get used to it. Ya can't be a beggar here, girl." He shrugged, finishing his drink. You swirl your glass, looking at the patterns in the liquids left by you turning the glass.

"Y/N." You said, giving him a crooked smile. "My name is Y/N." The Killer turns to you, raising his glass.

"Charmed. Ya'll call me Deathslinger, but my real name is Caleb. Caleb Quinn. Ya call me what ya want.".

The both of you clinked your glass, smiling at eachother.

#dead by daylight #dbd #deathslinger #the deathslinger #caleb quinn #fanfic #dbd fanfic #self-insert #alcohol #entity #Dbd deathslinger #Dead by daylight deathslinger #Chains of hate

[ceremoany]

𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴  

A semi-lengthy list of Nessian headcannons about their times at the bar with one another. Set shortly after A Court of Frost and Starlight, pre-Illyrian Mountains. 

anytime nesta drinks, the drink is either red or purple. it stains her lips a deep cherry shade. she likes the taste of berries and sugar the best. cassian prefers literally anything he can get his hands on, but favors warm ale in the colder months. 

nesta is a smiley, playful drunk if she’s drinking vodka, a very sad drunk if she’s drinking whiskey and thinks ale is “horse piss”. everyone only lets her have vodka after they came to learn that she becomes a sobbing pile of undone hair and ripped bits of dress after three whisky sours. 

cassian can almost always put on a poker face but when he’s buzzed all he can do is focus on her. in a crowd full of people, all taller than her, she should get lost in the average fae’s line of vision but his eyes always find her. in front of him, he stares at her like he’s at the most raved about art gallery of the year and she’s a piece in the exhibit.

everyone is highly aware of the dance they play at, their game cat and mouse, the never ending back and fourth, but when nesta is drunk, she doesn’t sense it at all. it melts from her memory and her eyes are too glassy, her mind preoccupied with laughing to notice the way cassian hasn’t taken his eyes off of her since they arrived. 

nesta flits around like she’s a dancer on ice when she’s drunk, body always moving fluidly along with any rhythm that’s playing. it’s mesmerizing and horrible. she consumes all of the spotlight, even when she doesn’t intend to. she is the hypnotist and everyone who watches her are her precipitants. they say humans will dance to faerie music until their feet bleed, until they drop dead from thirst and exhaustion, but when she’s moving like this, it’s almost as if everyone else becomes the helpless human, ensnared into watching her until she decides to stop. 

hips moving in and out, around a beat, feet gliding across the uneven ground as if it were polished marble, wrists bent at an angle that makes any artist want to carve her poise into marble, fingers splayed in the most delicate manner, her spine acts as a snake in the grass, looking for prey. 

nesta will dance with anyone and everyone whilst intoxicated. cassian observes, not completely unwillingly. he refuses to tell her that what she’s doing is wrong unless she puts herself in harms way. he glowers at her moving in circles around an unworthy male. he wishes for it to be him so badly that sometimes he can’t take the tension of watching her preform like this for anyone but him. 

it’s not a performance to nesta. it’s simply the way she is. like a siren, luring men and women alike in with the way she moves. 

cassian’s body reacts in ways that aren’t appropriate for a public setting, nevertheless appropriate for a woman who isn’t his to witness.

he excuses himself to the restroom where he relieves himself in long and shameful strokes. 

sometimes nesta drinks too much, on accident or on purpose, cassian can never really figure out. he always has to intervene on nights like those.  

nesta taunts him for not letting her have fun, saying he’s had his, she can smell the arousal and sex on him, the desperation, why can’t she have hers? why can’t she play hunter for the night? trying to seek out worthy game to bring home? 

he has to stalk after her some nights, always finding her in a nearby ally or outside of a convenience shop and some nights, when he’s had enough of chasing her around, worried that she’ll be taken advantage of or do something the will regret come daylight, he confronts her. 

on one particularly humid summer night, he pins her against a brick wall in an ally between the bar and a music hall, an attempt to sober her up, massive hands wrapping around her wrists, forearms pressed to hers, eyes cutting into her, voice stern and solid. nesta just lulls her head and smiles a sickly sweet smile. “you’re always the cutest when you’re murderous.” 

nesta has said a few comments like this before to cassian when she’s intoxicated. they always make cassian’s lower belly burn and his cheeks flame red, lungs constricting.  

his grip on her falters and she uses this to her advantage, bringing a leg around his knee, bending it towards her. she saddles the top of his thigh 

cassian struggles to keep his face fixed on frustration and anger but he can feel her heat through his pants. 

“you fuck a different female every time we all go out, but why is it never me?” she asks, voice low and raw. “do i repulse you so? or is it that you think you cannot please me?” 

cassian’s breathing is coming in ragged now, his entire being vibrating. he wants nothing more to tell her why he cannot, why he will not, why that is more than anything he’s ever wanted in his entire long and lonely existence. not yet and not this way.  

nesta cranes her face back, up towards the faelights of the street. honest and bare. her nose is pink now, due to the cold, nearly as pink as her lips.

she longs for use of her hands, wishing she could pull his face to hers by his hair, his shirt, anything. she licks her lips incessantly and cassian’s eyes never fail to flit down to the action. 

“i can never tell if you want to kiss me, or destroy me.” cassian’s heart wrenches, chambers fighting the other. 

he leans his face down to hers. he can smell the cinnamon and clove on her, a smell that she’s exuded from before the caldron. 

cassian’s body is unforgiving in the way that it responds to nesta’s advances. he begs it to have sympathy for him, but he always stiffens, blushes, sweats, shakes, is completely and irrevocably undone by the sight of her. she yearns for him as much as he does her. 

but the night always ends in cassian pulling away, nesta left laughing at his weakness before running off to make another male her nighttime entertainment. she always looks over her shoulder at him as she’s leaving. reluctantly in her eyes, mouth slightly pouted with her brows knit together. he feels the connection between them tense as she leaves. scrambling. aching. he wants to tell her so many things, but for now, he will settle on telling her lies. 

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sarah j maas #SJM #sjmaas #inner circle #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #nessian book #acotar4 #very angst oops #mine

[kittenshift-17]

Hi I hope you're doing ok I just wanted to ask a question. What do you think of Daenerys from game of thrones,I'm sorry its really random right but I've always wanted to know.oh and those christmas stories are really great are you going to continue those or were they just a one shot ? And as always I love you and you're writing.

Christmas stories? You mean the 👀👀👀 side-eye ask-responses fics? Because they weren’t Christmas stories, so much as people sending those “inviting creators to share something in progress that they wanted to finish in 2019, but didn’t manage to” asks to me and me sharing snippets of WIPs. Eventually all of them will be completed fics and will be shared on the appropriate archives, but until then, they’re just sitting in my “In Progress” folder, waiting to be worked on.

As for you query about Dany, I’m very on the fence about her. Throughout the books and the early seasons of the TV show, she’s my least favourite character because she’s so far removed from all the other plotlines all the way over across the Narrow Sea. There are some sections in the middle where I quite liked her, and I confess that in Season 7, I was all for having her take over as Queen of Westeros.

Unfortunately, D & D ruined that. And though I can see WHY they had to play it that way from an author’s perspective (particularly since they’re not the original authors, essentially making the last couple of seasons a D & D version of fanfic, if you think about it), I didn’t like her by the end. She went too far (no matter how Cersei pushed her to get there) and honestly, she became too hell-bent on ruling the world. Early on, her acts of violence were all for the sake of rescuing the oppressed and championing freedom. She weeded out injustice and beat it back with fire and blood, and that was great. 

The continuity of that is where D & D (I beleive) were trying to take it all, but they forgot one uncomfortable thing.

When she overthrows the Khals, she rescues the men and women of the hoard and the vast number of peoples they enslave. When she overthrows the Masters of Pentos, she resuces the enslaved and downtrodden. When she overthrows the Salvers mutilating boys for their armies, she’s resucing future generations of boys from that fate. When she ‘overthrows’ Cersei, on the other hand, she rescues no one. She loses sight of doing it to protect the innocent and to help the down-trodden. Instead she roasts those very same innocent, frightened, downtrodden, terrified people of King’s Landing alive, and for what? 

Power. Revenge. 

There is a theme throughout her timeline that she defies those who look down on her and those who say no to her, and she does do ruthless things to the people who refuse to support her cause, but she was perceieved to temper it throughout those things as a champion for the weak because she herself had once been weak.

She loses sight of that when she faces Cersei. And in fairness, Cersei is a vicious cunt who deserverd far worse than was done to her throughout the series, but Dany lost it. The saying of the Targaryens being doomed to madness or greatness was supposed to fall on the line of greatness with her. Under her reign, I beleive Westeros could have been properous and happy. But D & D, just wanted to do a big scene with the dragon(s) I think. 

And okay, yes, being traded to the Dothraki for their army and treated like a common whore by Viserys made her brittle, and losing Khal Drogo hurt her deeply. Losing Viserion to the Night King, and Rhaegal to something so stupid as a lance in broad daylight when the beast could literally have flown in any direction to dodge it was just dumb. That broke her, I think. To couple it with the ‘betrayal’ of Jon’s true origins and the threat he then posed to her rule, and then losing Missandei to Cersei’s bitchiness definitely pushed her over the edge, I think. All of these things would certainly have fucked with her mental health, and it’s not unreasonable to state that she could’ve slipped into madness.

Which I suppose, is the point, in the end, isn’t it? She becomes the very monster she slayed so many times for the sake of her people, and she acts in the ways she has always done when the people in between her and her throne won’t bend the knee, and give her what she wants. The only thing that changes is that she loses sight of who is an enemy, and who is just a helpless victim.

And I empthaize with that. The longer you spend as a survivor, the less you recall the days of only being a victim. The longer you spend rising above your trauma, the less patience you have for those wallowing in their own. It becomes easy to forget that those other victims are scared and helpless and suffering, when you want them or need them to be strong, and brave, and valiant. By the time Dany reaches King’s Landing, most of her army is destroyed. Two of three dragons dead, her lover a traitor (and her nephew, ewwww) her friend captured and killed, and so all of these things could and probably should have broken her again, like the crying, broken, helpless girl who let herself be sold for an army, and raped like a helpless female dog. 

Throughout the series we watch her overcome the early trauma, and we watch the way she learns to solider on in the face of new traumas, too. They’re hurting. They’re like limbs being hacked off, I’d imagine, but she’s got to go on. She doesn’t have the luxury of breaking down in tears. She is Khaleesi. The Unburnt. The Breaker of Chains. She can’t just crumple. She’s got an army at her back relying on her strength and her guidance. 

She’s toughened, maybe a little dead inside by the end after all she loses.

So she has no patience for those victims still in the early stages of their trauma journey. The small folk of King’s Landing know suffering under Cersei, but they’ve seen everyone else who stood up to the Lannisters decimated in one way or another. Ned, beheaded. Renly, slain. Robb, beheaded. Catelyn, slain. Stannis, slain. The Tyrells, murdered. All three of Cersei’s children were killed, too, but just like Dany, she soldiered on. When all the other contenders have fallen beneath the mighty paws of the Lannister tyranny, what indiciation did any of them have that Dany would be any different? What else could they do, but follow orders or be beaten to death? Die on the outside of the gates by the hand of people claiming they want to protect you, or follow orders and scurry inside, beleiving that once again, the Lannisters will be the victors?

But Dany didn’t consider any of that, because everyone else she liberated hadn’t lived through battle after battle, war after war, watching their oppressors win. The Unsullied knew only how to follow orders, and being sold to a new Master meant doing only what they were told. The enslaved rose up against the masters because before Dany, only individuals had tried to fight back, not entire armies. When you are downtrodden and someone says, “Hey, if we all rise up, we can win” and it’s the first time anyone has tried, you are filled with naive hope and courage.

But the people of King’s Landing aren’t naive and courageous. They’d seen 5 kings rise and fall at the feet of the Lannister Queen, 6 if you count King Robert. Already, many had tried to rise up and overthrow her, and already all had failed. A new queen riding in, even on the back of a dragon, wasn’t enough to rouse them from their hard-learned slavery and acceptance. No one else had won before, so better to avoid trying again. Dany’s lack of understanding for that scenario - her unwillingness to heed what Varys and Tyrion tried to tell her to educate her about the way things worked in Westerous compared to Braavos - is ultimately what made her the monster she died as.

She refused to recall that others weren’t as brave as her; weren’t as hard-hearted as her; and she refused to recognize that the people she sought to ‘free’ had already been ‘freed’ five times over, at least, and still their tyrant queen stood tall. Dany’s impatience and her anger got the better of her thanks to the suppressed agonies she endured, and her unwillingness to see reason and understand that this time, things had to be different, was ultimately why she jumped into the role of brutal overlord doomed to die. 

I suppose, too, that when you flip the coin for madness or greatness, with only 2 Targaryens left on earth, you have to pick on, don’t you? Viserys was the mad one, and Dany the great one, but then Jon came along, and you flip it again, and to stay true to Jon’s nature throughout everything else, he must be the great one, so Dany has to be the mad one. 

So I suppose, in answer to your question on my thoughts about Danerys,  I’m... disappointed. She’s brave and brilliant and courageous in all she faces until excessive trauma makes her angry, makes her sloppy, and makes her foolish. She tries what she’s tried before and when it doesn’t work as it has every time before she throws a tantrum vile enough to end the world and to seal her fate, once and for all. I tolerated her until I liked her, and then I liked her until I didn’t. Now, I think of her as a tragic plot piece used, ultimately, to chart the course of valiant saviour to all right up until the Army of the Dead problem is resolved, a tool to batter down the walls without killing any more Starks in order to finally see Cersei dead once and for all, and then she’s tossed aside as being superfluous and in the way of the overall goal to see the Starks rise from the ashes of their destoryed family.

It’s hard to fathom in a tale with so many majoy players, but Jon Snow has always been the MAIN protagonist of the story; and everything else, including Dany, is all just circumstantial plot device to keep the story moving and to ultimately further Jon’s arc. That’s why he, alone, despite breaking every oath he took, and still trying to do what’s right, survives to the end, but gets no hero’s reward.

Based on what I know of G.R.R.M. from interviews he’s given and the overarching theme of this series as a whole, Dany’s end is fitting. You can’t stay a hero forever, you know? Eventually someone takes your hero’s crown or you become a tyrant to keep it, and someone else has to rise up and kill you, as you once rose up and slayed monsters, yourself. His whole schtick has always been that being a good person doesn’t mean you’ll get to live and doing the right thing for noble reasons will just get you killed sooner (Ned), but even those willing to do the wrong thing for the right reasons must pay their penance in the end. 

After all, valar morghulis.

[andavs]

Miss Congeniality is on tv and im thinking is there a sterek au out there?? Stiles, the new FBI agent, who does things instinctively and is quirky and weird vs no-nonsense Derek the FBI agent who believes in procedure and protocols. Stiles has to go undercover at a pageant/some sort of competition with Derek as his handler. Reveals how good and competent he is at saving the real winner Scott ala Cheryl/Rhode Island. And Stiles singing to Derek "you think I'm gorgeous...you want to kiiiiiss meee.

Real talk, I’m kind of tipsy so this might be a little disjointed, but ooh, I really love the idea of like, basement dweller analyst Stiles, who is objectively a complete fucking wreck. He’s not creepy and he knows how to function as a human being, but he just gets so wrapped up in his work that he maybe forgets to do laundry for two months, and he eats like a broke college student, and maybe steamrolls over a lot of social cues because he has vital information that people need to know right now.

I don’t even know what competition it would be in this AU. My instinct is to say like, America’s Next Top Male Model, but obviously Derek would be the top pick for that. Unless they tried to get Derek into this competition, but he was so awkward and uncomfortable in that situation that his face just shut down and all of the judges scooted back a bit while he glared at them in dead silence.

Sooooo, plan B. Which fails, because Agent Lahey is attractive but he doesn’t photograph well. He kills it on the runway though and somehow came out with five modeling agencies trying to lure him into a contract.

Plan C: Agent Boyd, who straight up refused to get involved, because he works organized crime and are you seriously bothering him with this shit? Get out.

Plans D - L also all fail for a variety of reasons, and at this point they’ve got Agents Argent and Yukimura scouring the building, ducking into every office and taking pictures of very confused office workers who generally don’t see daylight during office hours. They’re desperate, okay? Both male and female competitions across the country have been targeted, all with the same MO, and they have evidence suggesting this ANTMM is next. Four people have died already, they need to catch this guy.

Which is how they end up in the windowless basement of analysts in their cubicles, and after striking out with all of them, about to head back upstairs in defeat, they run into Stiles. 

He’s just leaving the dinky kitchen, eating microwave instant ramen with two pens for chopsticks, he has a yellow stain on his wrinkled button up from the broth, and his hair is a greasy mess because he’s been at the office for the last 36 hours trying to finish his last assignment. He’s not technically supposed to spend that much time there, but if he hides in a specific corner of the supply closet, the custodians and security guards don’t see him and he can sneak back to his desk by 1am.

He’s a mess, his eyes are bloodshot, and he has the darkest circles under his eyes, but he’s got nice cheekbones and pretty eyes (aside from the red), so they grab him by the collar and drag him back upstairs.

Derek is less than impressed, refuses initially, but Allison swears she knows someone who can whip Stilinski into shape in record time. Allison doesn’t make empty promises.

Stiles slurps his ramen. The stain on his shirt has grown from being yanked around the office.

*

Lydia does whip him into shape, ruthlessly, and Stiles doesn’t even deny crying about it because she completely killed the rugged stubble he was coaxing to fruition on his jaw. They forced eye drops into his eye balls, which he never wants to feel ever again, and gave him a facial that left his entire face and neck bright pink (”It’s supposed to do that, it’s exfoliation, your skin is a tragedy,” Lydia said with disdain), and he’s pretty sure that this would be considered assault under any other circumstance.

He’s on a strict juice cleanse, they plucked his eyebrows, and the things they did to his junk for “the swimsuit portion” is definitely assault, which he will be reporting to the higher ups the next time he can get to a phone.

“You need to stop staring at screens,” Lydia orders him, swiping every phone and computer away the second he gets his hands on them. “You’re getting premature neck wrinkles and you squint too much.”

Stiles wants to cry.

Derek wants to die the first time he sees their creepy gremlin analyst in a fitted suit with his hair done correctly and his face properly moisturized. Cue the shit, he’s hot montage of slow motion walking across the tarmac, until Stiles trips on some cables that have already been taped down.

“We’re lucky he plays baseball occasionally,” Lydia says once they’re on the plane to the competition. “Not even I can give him muscle definition that fast, but we can work some magic with a spray tan.”

Derek silently thinks it would be a crime to spray tan Stiles and looks out the window at the cities passing by below.

“I just want some fries,” Stiles sobs, sprawled across three seats like he’s about to feint from starvation. Lydia hands him a green smoothie and he glares.

*

I love the idea of Scott being Cheryl. Super nice and welcoming, doesn’t raise eyebrows at Stiles’…less than attractive habits, even helps cover for them, and they quickly become friends. Derek isn’t jealous. At all.

Scott’s finished his undergrad, he’s been working to save money, and he’s trying to figure out how to pay for the vet program he got into–preferably taking out minimal loans. And this competition just so happens to have a pretty massive cash payout at the end. Three hours after meeting, Stiles has silently sworn to do everything in his power to make sure Scott leaves with that money.

Scott has silently sworn to do everything in his power to make sure Stiles doesn’t make a total ass out of himself on national television. He’s…kind of succeeding. He had a moment of self-doubt when he asked what Stiles’ talent portion would be and got a blank stare in return.

Then we get lots of sneaking around! Stiles all over the place, lowkey thinking and acting like he’s James Bond, whispering stupid things into his earpiece like the fox has entered the henhouse, while Derek rolls his eyes back in their base of operations. And look, he’s ridiculous, but he also analyzes shit for a living, and combined with what he’s learned from his dad, he nails it.

I don’t know where the “you want to kiiiiss me” scene would go, but Derek leaning in like he’s going to kiss Stiles and then deadpan snarky eating a candy bar that Stiles is strictly forbidden from eating? That is perfect on literally every level and totally something he would do. He’s such a little shit and kind of emotionally stunted; he would flirt like a kindergartner who doesn’t understand how to express his feelings. And also Stiles is a pain in the fucking ass and deserves it for the way he…molests the straws in his stupid green smoothies every day. It’s sexual and wrong, and Derek can’t be blamed for needing to leave the room.

And look, we’ve gotta bring Scott in on the secret like halfway through. Stiles is a mess on every level, he doesn’t know the most basic things about the competition…it’s not convincing. Scott had to physically stop him from putting way too much gel in his hair–like, way too much. If it weren’t for Scott and Lydia teaming up, Stiles would’ve been disqualified immediately for trying to pair that jacket and those socks.

Whatever the threat is, obviously they stop it and catch the guy, probably the twins or Deucalion or something–the usual suspects. There’s life-threatening stunts and bomb defusing, and Stiles and Derek are taking out one twin backstage while Scott punches the other on national TV and wrestles the remote detonator away from him. At first everyone’s all, “Scott McCall has snapped! He’ll kill for the win!” but then Deucalion or whoever sets off the second bomb, and Scott’s right in the crowd getting people to safety!

And whatever the original verdict from the judges, they change their mind, because for all that every contestant talked about world peace and doing everything they could to help others, Scott was the only one who did that. It’s an easy win, really, and he gets more than enough for veterinary school, and he fucking rocks at it.

Backstage, Derek and Stiles take down their bad guys like the perfect team they are, and then probably do that stupid action movie thing where they take the time to kiss while a building is on fire around them? Just a real quick one, and then they resume again outside at a safe distance from the building. And then they both cash in their sick days (because they’re both workaholics who haven’t taken one in like five years) and spend a week together eating junk and ignoring their phones and having a grand ole time. In bed.

#Anonymous #this probably has so many typos but fuck it #now i just want to watch this movie #WHY ISN'T IT STREAMING ANYWHERE #prompts

[ssississpssk]

Sissy Spacek Rip Helicopter, H 58 4xCS + 7-inch Release Date: July 25, 2017

Helicopter is very relieved to announce this box set, which has taken about nine years and many anxiety attacks to come together.

In April 2008, Sissy Spacek embarked on a west coast tour. We didn’t really have much material at that time, so we played mostly a weird collage of electronics and tape. At some of the shows we played songs intermingled, but mostly it was exploratory and experimental.

When the tour was finished the recordings were meant to become this box set: 4 cassettes and a 7-inch with inserts. This endeavor was faced with many obstacles, and after only a couple of years, I was so frustrated that I decided to just edit the material into a simpler album, Rip, which came out on Gilgongo in December 2011. I never quite gave up on the box set version, but the universe, through endless blunders, just kept telling me it wasn’t the time for it.

Some of the catastrophes along the way:

I bought 400 tapes and had them sent to my friend’s house in Los Angeles, only to realize that I would then have to re-send them to Greh, who was dubbing them in Detroit.

I pressed 100 copies of the 7-inch at Bill Smith, along with a few other records. Putting out records when you’re on the road/couch surfing is pretty much impossible. You don’t have any space to deal with anything and the anxiety of trying to assemble and ship and organize hundreds of copies of multiple records is enough to drive anyone insane.

I ordered 100 reel boxes and had them sent to Los Angeles. On another tour I drove them up to Portland to have my friend Cody Brant hand-draw each cover.

The tapes were then shipped to me in New York, where I was staying at the time. This was around 2009 or 2010. I thought for some reason I could get the release going from there, despite having basically no resources at my disposal.

I asked Cody to ship the boxes to me in New York, which he did. I think I had suggested sending them media mail, which he confirmed with the post office was ok. They arrived with $100 postage due, so after conferring with the NY post office, I had them returned to sender thinking they would be sent back to the Portland post office that OK’d it and they would be understanding. No such luck.

When leaving NY, I had to then ship the tapes back to Los Angeles again, 400 tapes’ fourth trip through the mail.

A couple years later I was in Los Angeles, looking through my storage space, tearing the entire thing apart, looking for the 7-inches, thinking maybe I’d try to get this project going again. No luck. I asked everyone I could think of if I had anything stashed or left at their house, specifically a box of 100 unpackaged 7-inches. No. Somehow I managed to lose the entire pressing. (To this day never found.)

The boxes stayed in Cody’s basement for many years, developing a bit of mold, cobwebs, and age by the time I picked them up. Later most fell into even worse condition while in storage (again) and most ended up unsuitable to be used at all and I had to buy more.

A bit of luck later, I was on the phone with Bill Smith looking for some pressing plates, and they told me they had H 58 on the shelf. I immediately knew that these were the plates for the Rip 7-inch and after a moment of astonishment, asked them to press another hundred.

After driving all the pieces across country yet again, they finally were all in one accessible place. I looked for the files of the originals, but it they seem to be completely lost. I asked Greh if he still had them. No luck. I listened to the tapes and figured out what was what and then labeled them all. I got the rest of the material printed and assembled the boxes and finally got everything finished.

The recordings in this set differ greatly from the Rip CD. These recordings were essentially the source for that album, but here the material is presented more as concrète events with less intervention. Since the original files are lost, it’s doubtful there will be any digital or second edition of this version, aside from the Rip album.

Here’s the story of the Vancouver BC show that was the description for the Rip CD when it came out:

We played this show in Vancouver BC that was definitely in my top three. Sissy Spacek caravanned up there with Yellow Swans and arrived late afternoon right between the venue and Gabe’s girlfriend’s house. It was probably about two blocks in between. We hung out there for a little while and I had needed to pee for a really long time, so I took a few steps over to this alley and took a piss and then reconvened with everybody hanging out and waiting for the promoter and Gabe’s girlfriend to arrive. After a couple minutes we noticed these two women in the alley checking us out. After a skeptical, then dismissive look, they squatted directly in my piss and started smoking crack.

Previous to this, we thought everything in Canada had been hilarious. The accents at the border, the 70′s strut of the “walk” light, road signs … pretty much everything. This was something different. I’ve lived in Los Angeles for a long time, and I’m not used to seeing stuff like this in broad daylight off what seemed to be a main drag.

Eventually we hung out a bit at the house and then headed over to the venue once the promoter showed up. I parked and he warned we should take everything out of the car. “Everything.” Don’t leave a single insignificant thing in view or it will definitely get broken into. We unloaded into a white room, kind of cold and dank. The walls and ceiling were literally dripping. It reeked of beer. “Oh, we had a party here last night, we just hosed it down.” “With beer?” I asked as a joke, but not really. He explained it used to be a fish factory and that they had shows there and bands practiced there. They never had any problems with cops because of the neighborhood.

“How many bands are playing?” “Six, I think.” “What time does the show start?” “Probably around midnight.”

We left back for the house to check out their half pipe and hear stories about the view from their second story window. Just walking back and forth a few times between the house and the venue, we saw a lot of stuff — weird stuff. Zombies milling about, prostitutes hanging around, people with bad things or no thing to do. I can’t say how we looked, but I can say that I did not see anyone that looked like they had a normal agenda.

Around 11pm we headed back over. I set up the record table and checked to make sure everything was ok. In the back storage room there was a tower of around 50 cases of beer. Jesse and I were baffled by everything at this point. We decided we should just take a walk up and down the street and see what was about. Just crossing the road had shown us quite a bit. Corydon refused our invitation to join us in no uncertain terms.

We head out to the street. I had noticed this big rig parked on the corner all day. It was just the front cab of a big semi truck. It was the kind that was elongated and probably had a small apartment behind the seats. As we passed it, being night time now, I looked back over my shoulder through the windshield as we walked by and saw a white, doughy, mid-50′s man, standing completely naked, staring back at me from behind/between the seats. We made solid eye contact. I turned immediately and told Jesse, “Don’t look back” as I slowly turned my head around to look again, only this time the light was now off and I could only imagine he was now standing there still looking at me, completely naked, now in darkness. We passed two more crumbling prostitutes who were barely able to stand before we managed to get to the corner. We took a right and noted the street name, Hastings, and walked about six blocks up the street.

Passed 11 pm, things looked much uglier than during the day. Everyone was some kind of walking dead, zombie, prostitute, unconscious and sprawled out, people literally in the gutter, everything looked like absolute bad news. There were many notable sights. We saw a convenience store whose neon sign read, “Open 23 Hours”. We saw drug addicts freaking out, prostitutes getting into cars, people shaking, yelling, etc. Jesse looks fucked up, so I think that’s why, between the two of us, a guy chose his spit for me (but missed). Suddenly we realized we were now far from the venue. Pretty far. We should turn around. We crossed at the intersection at Gore Street and came back on the other side. Unscathed except for an empty box of Goobers thrown at me (again the victim!)

As we stroll up to the venue, probably around 11:30 or so at this point, we have to wade through people to get to the door. Miraculously it is completely packed. $5 to get in, $5 per beer. The promoter explains that underage kids know this is a place they can drink no problem, so they always do well. We play a set alternating between grindcore and full-on noise. People were rowdy during both. Six bands is never something you want to hear, but somehow it went fine, crowded until it ended around 6 am and turned into a sloppy sock hop. All the beer was gone.

The next day Jesse was sick enough to go to the hospital and bow out of the rest of the tour.

***

Recorded up and down the West Coast by Jesse Jackson, Corydon Ronnau, and John Wiese and featuring appearances by Yellow Swans, Peter Kolovos (Open City), and Paul Costuros (Death Sentence: Panda!).

Numbered edition of 100.

http://helicopter-la.com http://helicopter-la.com http://helicopter-la.com

#sissy spacek #noise