#it's not that miles is like exceedingly innocent or anything

[metaphorical-goblin]

big difference between Phoenix and Miles having inappropriate thoughts is that Miles is incredibly obvious (face red, fists clenched and shaking "and maybe we could hold hands.... and........ kiss....... oh god... he has a very nice ass.............")

whereas Phoenix's mind is filled with things that need to be censored and construction/looney toon sounds every time he sees Miles and he just has to be like "oh yeah I'm used to this, it's no big deal, alright see you in court"

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #narumitsu #it's not that miles is like exceedingly innocent or anything #it's just that he is overly expressive when it comes to things he's not expecting #look at him in court #he wasn't *expecting* to think that Phoenix has a nice ass #he just happened to watch him going up the stairs and then everyone had to treat him for heart palpitations and shortness of breath #he's screwed #phoenix was a theater kid and has been pining after this guy for ages #he's like a rock in the ocean

[aressss1]

Through Fire and Ice

(Technoblade x Reader) 

Chapter 1

Next Chapter

~~~~~~

They had caused this… An ice age the likes no one had ever seen before. A world thrown out of whack… The party of four, Philza, Technoblade, Tommy, and Tubbo had slain the dragon in the end realm. The final blow dealt to the neck of the dragon; had brought on a chill they had never felt before. Though they didn’t truly recognize what had happened until they got back to the overworld. Tommy and Tubbo had jumped through the portal first. Technoblade had stayed back looking toward his friend Phil.

 Every breath they took could be seen due to the cold, but Phil was not bothered too much by it. He had read many scriptures leading up to this moment. As he excitedly looked out into the void, his hands on his hips. The pink haired man walked to Phil’s side. Phil’s eyes shined as he looked over at Techno, a smile gracing his lips.

“Hey mate.” Phil greeted Technoblade, “We did it!” Philza beamed putting his hand out as if to grasp onto something that just wasn’t there. “Do you know what lies just beyond that void?” Techno cocked his head to the side.

 “Uuuuuuhhhh” Techno said in a monotone voice, thinking but nothing came to him. “I have absolutely no clue.” Techno shrugged his shoulders crossing his arms, hoping that would help warm him up somehow.

 “There are cities out there, Techno,” Philza mused, “Filled with exceedingly rare items, just ripe for the taking!”

 “Heh?” Techno looked through the pig skull he wore as a mask, at Phil bewildered looking out into the void. There was nothing but an inky blackness, the thought of it made his head spin. “Who do you think made those cities? Are they still there? Do you think they’ll let us just run off with their items?” Philza just shook his head.

 “The scriptures read, that these cities are abandoned, I’m almost certain of it.” Philza pulled out a scroll from his robes, unraveling it to read it. “They do have some very… interesting defenses, so do be careful.” Phil added after a moment of reading.

 “Uh huh…” Techno looked over the edge slightly leaning over it kicking a rock with his shoe into the void. “There’s just one flaw to your plan…” Techno looked back to Phil, “How do you plan to get over there?” Phil donned a playful smirk, handing Techno building materials.

 “How ‘bout a race old friend?” Phil had challenged, watching the smile widen on Techno’s face.

 “Perhaps…” Techno was already getting into position to start the race and they once they both were ready, they started building out toward the void, starting their search for the valuables the scriptures had promised them.

 -

 In the overworld, Tommy and Tubbo were chattering talking about how cool that fight with the dragon was. Tommy was boasting about how cool he was.

 “I am massive Tubbo, that dragon has never seen the likes of me before!” Tommy proclaimed jerked a thumb toward his chest. Tubbo gave a confused look tilting his head, his hand coming up in a questioning gesture.

 “Didn’t Techno have to help get a hoard of endermen off of you?” Tubbo innocently inquired, causing Tommy to bust up in nervous laughter.

 “Listen- Tub-Tubbo,” Tommy feigned his confidence, “It’s all a part of the plan!” Tommy gave a wide smile to his best friend, “I had to help get them off Philza, Big Man.” Tubbo still looked confused as they walked up the stairs to exit the stronghold.

 “Mmmm, but weren’t you screaming for both Phil and Techno to help you?” Tubbo asked, and he was immediately hushed by tommy.

 “Listen, that was just me stroking Technoblades ego, it’s very fragile you know!” Tommy declared and he finally had a sigh of relief when Tubbo shrugged and didn’t press further on the subject. “You were great too big man!” Tommy nudged Tubbo in the arm. “It wasn’t easy breaking those crystals.” Tubbo nodded in response but started rubbing down his arms trying to get warm, his breath coming out in puffs of steam.

 “Aren’t we in a desert?” Tubbo asked his teeth started to chatter. As they got closer to the surface, the colder it got. Tommy rubbed his hands together trying to use his breath to warm up his fingers. Tommy nodded, just as confused as Tubbo.

 When they had reached the entrance of the stronghold and they were at the surface and their eyes widened at the snowy sight before them.

 “Snow!” Tubbo squealed out happily, there wasn’t too much snow sticking to the sandy ground, but they could definitely start to catch the snowflakes on their tongues. The two boys ran forward laughing and playing in the ever-growing winter wonderland.

 -

 You found yourself sitting below a tree reading your book in the shade, it was a normal day. The day was warm, and you found yourself enjoying the occasional breeze that would roll through. You often came to this spot to read whatever book took your fancy, sighing contentedly you let your fingers stroke over the pages of the book. Opening the book to where your bookmark was, you started reading.

The rustle of the leaves in the tree calmed you as the branches swayed with the wind. You could even hear distant clucking from a nearby chicken. Stretching out in the shade of your tree, your eyes scanned over the words of your book. There was no other place you would rather be right now.

You had lost track of time, and the thing that was able to knock you out of your trance was a sound… You didn’t know how to describe it, but the sound came from a distant land it seemed. It was… discomforting. Something was happening and you didn’t know exactly what. Looking around everything seemed normal. You were in the forest, with no one around. It sounded extremely far off… But you didn’t know if it was a good sound or not. Nothing else happened after that so you shrug it off.

 Before too long, you had forgotten about the sound, putting your nose right back into that book again. But this time around twenty minutes later, you had gotten cold, and that was what tore you away from the book. Looking around once more you were able to catch the first few snowflakes to fall to the ground. Unbeknownst to you a thick fog had rolled in around you as well.

 “Wha-?” You whispered to yourself quietly. You slowly got up feeling your bones give off a crack sound from the movement. Stretching you put your book in your book bag and left in the direction of your home. You were a little annoyed being that you were almost done with your book, but it was time that you got a move on with your day at this point. You had to get home and get a fire started in your cottage so that you wouldn’t be cold.

 It was weird how fast the chill had crept up on the day in summer, and you had a worrying thought about the sound that you heard from the distance. Maybe the two had correlated… But you couldn’t be too sure, you had never heard that noise before.

 The fog rolled in heavily as minutes passed by and you couldn’t see a foot past your face. This was worrying… One wrong turn and you would be heading the opposite direction from your house. That thought terrified you. Considering the closest village was miles away from you, and that was if you were heading in the right direction. You hadn’t scouted the other directions yet. You were still new to the area…

 Feeling a twinge of annoyance at your now runny nose, you stopped and looked around hoping there was something that you could identify. Nothing but the nearby trees caught your attention in the haze. The snowflakes seemingly got much larger in the passing minutes and they had no trouble sticking to the ground. You decided to just keep going. You had to keep moving so you wouldn’t freeze.

 You had willed yourself to go just a bit more through what was becoming a fully-fledged snowstorm. Fingers and toes were starting to ache. Had you known that it was going to snow today, you wouldn’t have opted to wear summer clothing, the shorts and tank top were not helping in any case. One thing was for sure, you were going to find somewhere to get out of this snowstorm, be it your own cottage or someone else’s, you were going to get there.

 -

 Philza and Techno were back at the end portal their inventories filled to the brim with treasures. Winglike contraptions strapped to their backs, made it possible for them to fly, or at least glide through the air. This was the main item Philza had been looking for, and Techno was glad to be here for the expedition. Techno had even let out a high pitch gasp in delight when they had found a second, as Phil called it, Elytra for Techno.

 “Aye mate,” Philza tapped Techno on the shoulder, “Ya think we should take the egg?” He pointed to the egg on top of the bedrock pillar.

 “Does it count as an orphan?” Techno grinned amused as Phil busted up laughing.

 “I suppose so,” Phil chuckled as he quickly built up to the egg, careful not to fall into the portal below.

 “This is going to be the ultimate orphan trophy,” Techno mused as he watched Phil reach out to take the egg. But before Phil could get a finger on the egg… It was gone.

 Phil let out a very confused and loud “What!?” before looking around for the egg further, it had teleported just few feet away, untouched. Techno laughed at Phil who climbed down from the pillar.

 “You just got denied!” Techno taunted, wafting away some stray hair from his face. Phil puffed out a sigh and pulled out his scrolls to see if he had missed anything about the egg. Techno looked over the man’s shoulder. He couldn’t read anything on the scroll, that was Philza’s department… Even so… That wasn’t the language villagers usually spoke.

 “Mmmm, seems like we can’t interact with it ourselves mate.” Philza’s hand covered his mouth in thought. “I have a plan,” Philza grabbed his bag and walked over to the egg. “Techno, dig out just enough for the egg to fall into the bag.”

 “Alright.” Grabbing his pickaxe, he dug out just enough of the end stone for the egg to topple over safely into Philza’s bag.

 “There we go!” Philza beamed holding the bag up. The top of the egg could barely be seen. He closed up the bag and strapped it over his shoulder. “Let’s get back to the boys, I’m tired of this chill in the air.”

 “We gotta pack extra clothes when we come back for the other cities,” Techno mused pulling his blue cloak around him to help stave off the chill. Phil grunted in agreement and he made his way back to the portal. With one step into the portal, he was gone.

 Techno lingered for a moment, his eyes searching the darkness. Had the dragon killed the inhabitants of the cities? Or… Was it something else? This realm was lonely, he wasn’t sure he wanted to come back here. The deafening silence was eerie. Shaking his head, he jumped through the portal. His eyes closed; he felt his stomach turn into knots. His body flew out of the other side of the portal and he orientated himself to land on his feet, though he kneeled when he felt his feet touch the floor to keep his balance.

 “Everything good mate?” Phil asked extending his hand to Techno, who took it nodding his thanks. “Good.” Making sure they had everything, they opt to go up the stairs. At a certain point they could hear the boys outside playing and laughing.

 “Am I missing something here? Why is it cold in the middle of the desert?” Techno asked with an edge to his voice. Something definitely wasn’t right. Phil shrugged looking on with an equally worried expression. The entrance they had dug had flurries of snow covering the first few steps.

 “It’s the middle of summer at that…” Phil hurried his step, when the two men had gotten to the surface they were met with the sight of Tommy and Tubbo having a snowball fight. The boys peered over at them excitedly. They both ran up to Phil and Techno sizing up their new gear.

 “So that’s what you’ve been up to,” Tommy pouted his eyes wandering over the elytras on Phil and Techno’s backs. “Why didn’t take us,” Tommy whined motioning to himself and Tubbo. “I want… Whatever that thing is.”

 “Tommy, I hear you, but I really don’t think it’s the time for that,” Phil put his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, as he looked around the snowy area. “We need to get back home.” Tommy scoffed but before he could retort Techno chimed in.

 “We don’t want to hear it Tommy, something is going on and we need to figure out what.” Techno looked toward Phil. Ignoring Tommy muttering to himself about how it was unfair that they got all the cool loot, and he didn’t. “We need to talk to the others and make a plan of action if this storm doesn’t stop,” Phil nodded, “I’m going to get some supplies, take them home and call the others for a meetin’.” The plan was set, and everyone headed off on their journeys.

 ~~

 Techno was in a bit of a bind. He was stuck in fog, and there were strays shooting at him from all directions. He didn’t know where an arrow would come from next. Some even got close enough to hit him using melee. Their ability to slow their enemies was annoying but Techno made quick work of them for the most part.  He knew he was on the right path to his cottage.

 An agonized scream echoed out, making Techno’s head snap up, his heart dropped, and he trudged further. His steps taking their sweet time as he was still affected with slowness. He listened for anything but didn’t hear another noise other than the crunching snow under his feet, but he soon found red droplets in the snow. Someone out here was injured… Following the trail of blood, he eventually found a body in the snow.

 You were riddled in arrows, breathing shallowly, lying face down in the snow. Unfastening his cloak, he wrapped you in the clothing and lifted your body with ease. You made some sounds of protest, which caused him to believe you were awake.

 “Stay with me okay?” His deep voice called to you, causing your eyes to flutter open and meet his. You were having trouble keeping focus. Your eyes skimming over the mask he wore on his face. Fear courses through you. “You will be okay.” He reassures you; he can see your fear. He doesn’t blame you; it would be off-putting to be hurt, and to suddenly be carried by a man you didn’t know who was wearing a boar skull as a mask. You let out a little sigh, your body going limp in his arms.

 Techno looked around, this had brought him off course, but he kept his compass on him, pointing to a lodestone he had in his house. Reading the compass, he trudges on, with you in his arms, still dodging arrows. It wasn’t too long of a walk before he suddenly had the cottage in his view, and he kicks the door open. Hurriedly he sets you down onto the floor next to the fireplace. Quickly lighting a fire, he searches his chests for any and all health potions.

 He was going to have to pull all those arrows out of you, one by one. He wasn’t looking forward to it. He peeled the bloody cloak off your body, examining your wounds. He sighed in relief. Your wounds could be easily healed with his potions. He counted three arrows stuck in your legs in all directions and two in your back. Your skin was frostbitten, and your lips were blue.

 Clipping the arrows shorter he made quick work, of the ones in your back. If they had hit any deeper, he would have been worried. Even so, your blood started to pool on his cloak that lie beneath you. Splashing a health potion on your back closed the wounds but they left definite scars. Now he was onto the arrows in your legs. He tended to the wounds in your legs just as he did with the ones in your back.

 Looking down at his handy work, blood all over his hands, he pushed back thoughts, the voices that liked to plague his mind coming back for a split second. Hands shaking, he got up to wash his hands, only to find that the pipes had been frozen. With an irritated sigh he grabbed a bucket and started filling the cauldron above his fire with snow.

 You were caked in blood and he wanted to have a bath ready for you when you woke up, he didn’t like seeing blood smeared on anyone, not even himself, as it just made the voices in his head stronger. He had tended to Tommy like this once upon a time when Tommy had overestimated himself and he fell from a cliff. Back then he didn’t have control over the voices like he did now. The memory made him shudder.

 Sighing he searched his fridge; you both were going to be here for a while, and you were going to need to regain your strength.  He had a good supply of potatoes, steak and carrots, that could keep the two of you going for a few days. To Techno, you didn’t seem like a fighter, so he wasn’t too worried you were going to stab him in the back but who knew, maybe he was wrong. If he was… Then he would be ready.

 Either way, the both of you had time to get to know each other.

#technoblade x reader #technoblade/reader #c!techno x reader #techno fanfic #c!techno #angst #Through Fire and Ice #mcyt x reader

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

TITLE: Anticipating Home

A/N: Takes place between seasons 2 and 3. Ichabod’s POV as to why he disappeared for so long which is absolute crap, let’s be honest. What a heavy load. I hope you enjoy!

He hadn’t expected to disappear for nine months, and when he’d found the prophetic tablet—a description of he and Abbie carved into stone together—and realized how long he’d stayed away, everything in him screamed for him to return to her with the utmost haste. Sadly, the airline system didn’t feel his compulsion, and it took three more days to get a flight back home.

Home… He contemplated the word, wondering how this era, the strange land that he’d once been so familiar with but which now confounded him at almost every moment , and a woman he’d met not three years ago could feel so comforting, even now, separated by nearly a year’s worth of time and an ocean.

He’d run, fast and far, back to his family of origin, seeking roots, something to ground him in the here and now. All he’d found there was Abbie. Proof positive that she grounded him, tethered him to that place and this time. And finally he’d stopped running.

He felt itchy with the desire to get back.

The reasons he’d left no longer applied, not with this new prophecy in hand and certainly not with the emotions raging in him that he’d tamped down for so long now they felt like a familiar weight upon his heart.

How he missed Abbie so! The thought of finally seeing her now that he’d come to terms with all that’d happened made his heart race—followed by a drop in his stomach. Would she even be happy to see him? He’d disappeared without a veritable word. And after everything she’d done for him…

But it was because of him, because of his wife and his son that her life had been upended. She’d intended to go places, to become a successful federal agent, when he’d come crawling out of his grave.

She hadn’t deserved the cessation of her life, her dreams, her career that his awakening had caused. More than that, she didn’t deserve the suffering she'd endured: the decline of her mother, the loss of Corbin, the travesty of what’d happened to Frank and his family, the stalling out of her career, the heartache of everything they'd suffered, the loss of innocence she’d had before realizing her childhood trauma in the woods was only the beginning of the things that would haunt and hunt her. She’d spent time in purgatory, for Heaven's sake. Because of him and those from his centuries' old life. No, she didn't deserve any of it. But that's not why he'd left. At least…it wasn't the only reason. Yes, he’d felt unmoored and confused after the deaths of Katrina and Henry—he’d be a purgatorial mutant to not be disoriented--and he’d needed time to come to terms with all that'd happened since he'd awoken. After all, one could hardly blame him for needing time to accept he'd slept through 250 years of history. Add to that the fact that he'd unwittingly married a powerful witch who'd borne him one of the most prolific figures of the apocalypse and...well, anyone could see how screwed up he’d become. But more than that, more than losing every tie he'd had to his old life, more than the loss of the family he would never have chosen had he had all the facts up front, he'd felt miserable—like a brigand, if he were being honest—for the fact that he didn’t mourn them more. Over the past several months, he'd realized he'd stuck with Katrina and all of her ills and shortcomings more from a wretched sense of Purtian duty than because he’d really wanted a life with her. He had once...back in their time. Back then he was enamored, nearly knocked off his feet, most particularly when she'd revealed her feelings for him. He'd never been in love before Katrina. And he had been in love. But finding himself in a new era, fighting a different kind of war, traipsing through the history of his first life....it had all felt so astounding and incomprehensible. And wonderful. He'd never expected Katrina to be a part of it—or the cause of it, Heaven knew—and he wasn't entirely surprised that she hadn't acclimated and adapted the way he had. But he had been surprised at how ill-fitting she felt to him. He'd stuck by her though, keeping his marriage vow, trying to build a relationship in a situation he never could’ve known was on the horizon when taking that vow, and suppressing how he really felt: unsure that they could survive in this century together. And altogether sure it was more of a burden to try than to cut ties with her. But that went against everything he stood for: loyalty, integrity, fidelity, morality. And so he'd stayed. Against his better judgment and in direct opposition to his heartfelt desires, he'd remained faithful (if not in heart, then in practice)until she put everything he cared most for on the line. And that was the real kicker, the final nail in the unironic coffin of their marriage: by choosing her path—Henry and his evils over all else—she’d forced him to end it—unequivocally—with her. For the world, yes. Because he was a Witness with a capital W, yes. But mostly because of Abbie. He’d had to. To save her. That single moment in time--thrusting the knife into all he'd known before-- sealed his fate, one riddled with abject guilt and shame. That’s what had driven him away. And coward that he was, he’d let Abbie believe it was the loss of Katrina and his apostate son that’d compelled him. He couldn't tell Abbie he felt he'd riven her life into a Before and an After the way that Katrina had divided his—he was her very own warlock, an unexpected black-magic curse she couldn't shake off. He couldn't explain that he'd desperately desired to believe that Henry could change but didn't believe it an actual possibility, regardless of what Katrina said, because of the depths of his deceit and corruption. He couldn't describe that he'd loved Katrina but hadn't been in love with her for some time now, since nearly the moment he'd gotten her back; it’s why he hadn’t re-consummated their marriage once the cabin had become her home. He didn't know if he could voice that he regretted the act of killing of Katrina more than the loss of her now that she'd thrown her lot in with the devil and against everything he’d always believed they’d stood for. And he knew he couldn't begin to explain the depth of guilt that flooded him mere days after their deaths over the fact that he didn’t feel more grief, instead feeling relieved that the horrors they planned to visit upon the world wouldn’t actually occur and infinitely grateful that Abbie still lived.

She’d been more than by his side throughout it all; she’d crawled up into his heart, taken up residence there, and settled in comfortably for the duration, and he’d never be able to expel her.

Not that he desired to do so. He couldn’t begin to define the ways he felt about his Lieutenant.   She’d stayed true to him throughout the shambles of his 21st century life, and done so with poise and patience. Oh, Abbie was patient—only looking back now did he realize what that must’ve cost her, to have her motives undermined, her decisions questioned, her position delegated to second place by the very person who'd put them in the predicament they fought against at every turn and with every drawn breath. Yes, she'd been patient. And not only with Katrina, his relationship with her, and his divided attentions. She'd been exceedingly patient with him. Explaining his New World with kindness and gentility and a healthy dose of good-natured ribbing, providing for him, protecting him, and confiding in him. Believing him. Believing in him. He wouldn't trade that for anything. But he had thrown it away. Shamefully, he'd let guilt over his real feelings hold sway, and he'd run. The number of times he’d thumbed out a text to her only to erase it, scrolled to her name, his thumb hovering over ‘Send,’ only to suddenly put the phone away from him as if it might strike him, the words he’d saved up to tell her, the dreams she’d starred in as his companion…these were as numerous as the miles he’d put between them.

But no longer. He’d landed in America, breathing a deep sigh of relief at the feeling of ease (though coupled with anxiousness at having to face her after all this time running) that rose up in him just knowing they existed on the same continent again.

He’d walked briskly through the airport only to have to wait in the long queue at customs. He’d fidgeted, drumming his hands together or against his thighs, impatiently waiting his turn. His blood zinged through his veins with apprehension about and in anticipation of seeing Abbie again. He had so many things to tell her, so much to apologize for. He could only hope she’d missed him even a fraction of the amount he’d missed seeing her every day, verbally sparring with her, confiding in her, hugging her.

She just had to hear him out.

But then the infernal police had seized him because of the stone, and after days of his ranting and their shuffling of him through the convoluted system, here he sat, across the table from the man who would talk to Abbie on his behalf. Not at all the best way to make his entrance, but he wasn’t free to decide the details of their reunion at the moment.

“It’s ringing,” the man informed him.

His heart jumped into his throat. Abbie would be here soon. He desired nothing else on this earth as much as the presence of the woman who’d answer on the other end of the line.

“She’ll answer,” he assured, though he spoke to himself more than his captor. “She’ll be here soon.”

#ichabbie #ichabbie fanfiction #ichabbie fanfic #ichabbie fan fiction #ichabbie fan fic #ichabod x abbie #abbie x ichabod #sleepy hollow fanfiction #sleepy hollow fanfic #sleepy hollow #my writing #my ichabbie writing #personal

[salamoonder]

ok this is going to be a long long rant idc if it gets shared, that’s fine, but if anyone has any advice i’d be grateful for it.

this whole...this whole situation. has made me feel so incredibly helpless and tired and burnt out and the worst part is I feel like i’m not even doing anything.

literally a few days before george floyd was killed I was trying to explain to my dad, who is cuban and white passing, just how bad police brutality and systemic racism has gotten. i’ve done this many times before. it never works. i don’t know why I keep trying. i pulled up statistics. i pulled up essays and charts and evidence. he has his master’s in marine biology. he should fucking know how to read this shit. all he said to me was that we never get both sides of the story and that the media always wants you to believe that the cops were in the wrong when in fact the person being attacked is always “threatening”. and I am so goddamn tired.

i haven’t gone to any protests. there’s been a lot near me. i’m literally fucking terrified of cops for a lot of personal reasons i won’t get into. my friends have gotten tear gassed less than two miles from my parent’s house. one of my oldest friends confirmed to me that a local news article that was published about the protest detailing some of the actions that the police took was just straight up lies. then it got confirmed again, by another friend. and another. and another. all had the same story. none knew each other. all said the cops were lying.

i’ve been getting into arguments on facebook. not with trolls. not with random strangers. with people I grew up with. coworkers. family friends. because if I can’t be out there protesting then MAYBE they will listen to me. because like that’s how I learned gay people weren’t evil, you know? i met one. and he was really sweet and polite and kind to me and I thought maybe he was an exception. and then my best friend came out and I met another. and then my classmate mentioned she was a lesbian. and then my friend said she was asexual. and they were patient with me, more patient than they should’ve been, and as a result I am here today, a trans + nonbinary bisexual person who doesn’t utterly hate themselves.

so I thought maybe maybe. maybe I can get them to listen. maybe they’ll respect me. maybe if I can just explain to them--but I can’t FUCKING explain anything. because i’m not starting with a base of “i know defund the police sounds scary but this is what it means”. i’m starting with a base of “i know it’s weird but maybe you should fucking care about people other than yourself”. and then i’m convincing them that racism is real. and then i’m convincing them that white privilege is real. and then i’m convincing them that systemic racism is real. and then i’m convincing them that i’ve experienced it. and then i’m convincing them that police brutality is real. and then i’m convincing them that there is no “right” side of politics because republicans let it get this bad and democrats let it get this bad and centrists let it get this bad and we are all to fucking blame but most of all the people in power are. and then i’m convincing them that capitalism is violence which is EXCEEDINGLY difficult. i even try to go the fucking religious route and convince them that anyone with as much money as jeff bezos is committing a capital sin so heinous that he simply cannot be allowed to exist as he is in “good christian conscience”. then they quote “give back to cesar what belongs to cesar” to me and I have to remind them that cesar fucking executed him and jesus took loaves and fish from people who barely had any to begin with in order to feed the crowds. and then I have to tell them about food waste and homelessness and it is so damn hard to explain to people that drug addicts are humans who require compassion and that people wouldn’t fucking steal if they weren’t starving and desperate and so sick of existence that they feel they need the thrill of taking things and so angry at the corporations that wiped out their local shops and enslaved their families. and i have to explain that toxic masculinity means that fragile men who are given weapons take out their anger and insecurity on innocent people and i just

i’m so goddamn fucking tired and no one will fucking listen to me and this girl i went to school with kept going on about the abortion rates for black people and i JUST wanted to punch her i couldn’t even tell her that actually abortion rates go down when the population doesn’t feel fucking desperate and miserable and have proper sex education and when rape culture isn’t rampant and i wanted to feel bad for her because this same girl wasn’t allowed to listen to fall out boy because it was “too blasphemous” and she’s never developed the ability to think for herself but i’m just so tired and so fucking angry that she refuses to listen to me and i can’t do anything i can’t. i don’t know i’m just tired i’m so tired of fighting.

#any fucking way. #black lives matter #burnout #//rant #thane.txt

[mcdynamite]

[Spoilers] I think GoT 8.05 made perfect sense, and here’s why:

 Hello people of Tumblr! I’ve seen a lot of people bashing the most recent episode of Game of Thrones for a number of reasons and I want to step up to the plate and go to bat for the show. To clarify, I dislike D&D as much as pretty much everyone else who watches the show. I think the writing has been lazy, the dialogue has been lacking, and the lead in to some of the things that have happened this season could definitely be better. But everything that happened in 8.05 makes sense, and I actually liked the episode. This is why.

Cersei’s Demise is kinda perfect.

I know a lot of us, myself included, were looking forward to a brutal, sadistic death for a brutal, sadistic woman. But here’s the thing... in its own way, it was a totally brutal way for her to go out. Think about it, Cersei has spent pretty much her entire life talking her way out of things, manipulating people, and in general feeling more powerful than everyone else around her, including her family. She died finally realizing that she was completely helpless and all hope was lost. She died knowing that her arrogance and often unnecessary brutality was what had cost herself, her children, the man she loves, and even her own father their lives. 

She couldn’t sass the collapsing rock to death. She couldn’t stall and wait for The Mountain to come to her aid. She couldn’t do anything but break down and cry and tell Jaime she wanted their baby to live, trapped in the same underground passages where she vowed to destroy all three of Dany’s dragons. Cersei wasn’t publicly executed in front of thousands of onlookers. She died UNDERGROUND, unthought of and uncared for by anyone else in the world but Jaime. She died the same death as all of the innocent citizens who died that day in part because of her own arrogance. It wasn’t special. It was lonely, hidden, and desperate - a fitting end for a woman who’s lived her whole life believing in her own importance.

And speaking of Cersei, even Jaime’s apparent regression makes some sense.

Ah, Jaime Lannister, one of the most emotionally complicated men in all of Westeros. I’m not gonna lie, this disappointed me because I had hoped for better for Jaime, but not because it didn’t make sense. We were ALL rooting for Jaime to ditch Cersei, become the noblest man in the whole world and just be with Brienne, who clearly loves him. But if you take a minute to think about it, while Jaime’s character development has been significant, it never really veered away from loving Cersei. 

He’s always been doing what’s best for her, and yes, that includes when he left her to head North. Jaime did that because humanity was in danger, and as such, Cersei was in danger. Barely over a season ago in 7.03, Jaime tells Olenna Tyrell that his love for Cersei has grown beyond his control. He openly admits it and tells Olenna that he doesn’t believe people will care how Cersei took the throne once they’re living in the world she built. He clearly still loves Cersei here, and while he’s tempering some of her most heinous ideas, like flaying Olenna alive, he’s still carrying out her orders. “For Cersei,” as he always says.

Jaime’s love for Cersei went far beyond his control. It was almost more like an addition than true love. His love for Brienne was pure and kind, but even the purest love can’t sway the grasp of an addition. Cersei was all Jaime had ever known, so even if he loved Brienne, even if he knew Cersei was hateful, even if he knew she was doing unspeakable things to the people of Westeros, it STILL makes sense that he went back. It’s legitimately not at all different from some abusive relationship in real life. One partner may realize that the other is abusive and hateful, but they can’t bring themselves to walk away, and when they do, they may go back. That doesn’t make them bad people, and it certainly doesn’t “undo” all of Jaime’s character development over the course of the series. 

Jaime Lannister is an immensely complicated character, and this is GAME OF THRONES we’re talking about. It’s a very human show. So frankly, if he has genuinely left Cersei without a second glance, that would have been immensely disappointing. It’s just not how people work, not after admitting how deep in the relationship he was literally just 9 episodes prior and only leaving to protect mankind from being destroyed.

And finally, let’s talk about the psychotic break of Daenerys Targaryen.

First, just a quick reminder at how utterly human this show is. We’ve got all sorts of realistic depictions of human nature in Game of Thrones. We have very real depictions of PTSD (looking at you, Theon and Sansa), realistic depictions of the horrors of slavery, realistic depictions of racism and ableism, the list goes on for miles. It’s made abundantly clear throughout the series that the Targaryens have a strong family history of mental illness, so here we go people. Let’s talk about mental illness.

Obviously, there are no therapists in Westeros to diagnose Dany with any particular illness, but it’s reasonable to hypothesize that Dany is experiencing psychosis, also known as a “psychotic break”. Something important to not about psychosis: it’s sort of like a break from reality, so the way someone behaves during a psychotic break is not at all who they normally are as a person. And here’s another thing about psychosis: YOU DO NOT SHOW SIGNS OF IT YOUR ENTIRE LIFE, especially not major ones. Not every person who commits a heinous act of violence grew up murdering small animals and saying sadistic things to family members and friends as a child. I’ve seen a lot of anti-Mad Queen Dany arguments online, and I’d like to debunk a few of them with regards to how mental illness often actually works.

1. Dany was an abused child, why would she hurt children?

Yikes, you guys. This is a really weak argument. Many studies have shown that childhood trauma is associated with greater disposition towards psychosis later in life. Obviously not everyone who has gone through a childhood trauma will experience psychosis, but it can actually be a direct contributing factor to a psychotic break.

2. Dany has always showed compassion to innocent people like the slaves across the sea, so why doesn’t she now?

Again, psychosis is not a direct reflection of who someone is as a person because it represents a break from reality. You don’t have to be an intrinsically horrible person to do something bad when you’re not in control.

3. The warning signs were there, but they were too weak to justify what happened to King’s Landing.

When a person experiences psychosis, the EARLY warning signs (let’s just say for the purposes of this argument are things that happened prior to the start of season 8) are often subtle or even unnoticeable until you’re looking back retrospectively. These can include things like spending more time alone than usual (check), suspiciousness or uneasiness with others (check), and having no feelings at all (check, remember when she ended things with Daario and the show made a big deal out of how she didn’t really feeling anything about it?).

The slightly later warning signs (so, this season) include strong and inappropriate emotions (check, she wants to have sex with her nephew not too long after she accused him of trying to steal her throne), social withdrawal (check), odd beliefs (check, her belief that she was sent by god to change the world), and suspiciousness (check). The warning signs were there and frankly exactly what one would expect to see in someone in the prodome (or very early stages) of psychosis.

4. It just happened so suddenly, the build up wasn’t enough.

Actually, it SUPER was enough. Recently, Dany has lost two dragons, her most trusted advisor, her best friend (who she watched be beheaded) and has arrived in a country where nobody likes or trusts her. All of these are pretty freaking traumatic, and a traumatic event can trigger psychosis. Boom. Bang. It makes sense.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand why people are upset about this. We were all rooting for Dany, our hero who walked out of the flames all those years ago with three baby dragons clinging to her. What happened in 8.05 was devastating to watch, but it wasn’t unrealistic. It was actually very well done from a standpoint of how things actually work in the real world. You can be frustrated with how things turned out, you can be devastated by the destruction of King’s Landing and Dany’s break, and you can be pissed about the lazy writing of this season, but you shouldn’t be angry with the show runners for Dany’s descent into madness. It was actually remarkably well done.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. Valar morguhlis.

EDIT: Obviously not everyone who goes through a period of psychosis is violent. It is an INCREDIBLY small percentage who actually inflict harm on others during a psychotic break. With that being said, rare as it may be, it does happen, it is a real thing that happens in real life, and cases in which a violent outburst happens are pretty spot-on similar to the way it happened to Dany. As someone who has experienced psychosis myself, I of all people know that not everyone becomes violent. But the portrayal of Dany throughout the whole show does align with the prodome of an exceedingly rare, but real, type of psychosis. I’m sincerely sorry for not clarifying this in my original post 💙

#Game of Thrones #Game of Thrones spoilers #got #got spoilers #daenerys targaryen #dany #daenerys #cersei #cersei lannister #jaime #jaime lannister #cersei x jaime #drogon #got 8x05 #the bells #mad queen #mad queen daenerys #mad queen dany #kings landing

[hamliet]

The Faces Under Bai WuXiang’s Mask

Or, dissecting Bai WuXiang. I’m not going to get into whose face is actually under BWX’s mask (there aren’t spoilers in this meta), or into Lang Ying, but I instead want to talk about Bai WuXiang’s foiling with primarily Xie Lian and Hua Cheng, but also a bit of He Xuan and Qi Rong (fitting as BWX and the latter three are the Four Great Calamities). 

Anyways. Mount TongLu. 

The funny thing about Mu Qing and Feng Xin’s horror over Hua Cheng’s love for Xie Lian is that they think he’s a demon stalking Xie Lian with the intent of harming him. 

Feng Xin was practically getting chills looking through those murals, “My fucking god… who the hell is he? He’s been watching you since eight hundred years ago?! And he is still, even now? What the fuck! This is terrifying! Is he bewitched? What the hell does he want? Normal worshippers won’t even do this much, just what the hell does he want??”

And Hua Cheng has loved Xie Lian and lived for him for 800 years. Yet, while there is a demon stalking Xie Lian for 800 years, it is not Hua Cheng but Bai WuXiang.

Bai WuXiang’s obsession with Xie Lian seems to be that he wants Xie Lian to become exactly like him, as a sort of forced empathy (I’m sensing a pattern among MXTX villains: see here for He Xuan and here for MDZS’s Xue Yang). I’m curious to see where this develops. Bai WuXiang seems to recognize Xie Lian’s terror and understand it, even, and he wants to see it drive Xie Lian into the same kind of crying/laughing despair that governs him. 

White No-Face lifted his face to look at his eyes, and he said warmly, “Your highness, I think, you might have misunderstood. There certainly will be a Supreme who will emerge from this kiln, but, it won’t be me. It would be you.” ...

“Do you remember this cry-smiling mask?” White No-Face asked, “It suits you.” ...

Then, without giving him a chance to protest, that tragically pale cry-smiling mask melted with the infinite darkness as it was heavily pressed onto Xie Lian’s face.

This is, of course, a crucial difference when compared with how Hua Cheng sees Xie Lian. He never forces Xie Lian to do anything, and accompanies him even when he doesn’t want Xie Lian to make a particular choice. In other words, Hua Cheng gets real empathy and what it’s like, that it doesn’t mean becoming exactly like someone or agreeing all the time, but walking with them. 

Xie Lian softly sighed a breath of relief and forced a smile, “Nothing, it’s just, in these past years, how I passed my earlier days wasn’t the prettiest sight, it was all muddled and very much a failure. I just thought if you had witnessed it it wouldn’t be good.”

Hua Cheng laughed, “How could that be?”

Xie Lian however, didn’t laugh at all, “It’s not a joke, it really was quite the failure.”

Hearing this, Hua Cheng withdrew his smile and turned solemn, “That’s okay too. Didn’t your highness already say it yourself?”

“Me?” Xie Lian was confused, “What did I say?”

Hua Cheng recited languidly, “To me, the one standing in infinite glory is you, the one fallen from grace is also you. What matters is you, and not the state of you.”

Bai WuXiang doesn’t understand this perspective at all. He tells Xie Lian, regarding Hua Cheng:

“it’s probably for the best that he doesn’t come in. Otherwise, even if he doesn’t think so now, later when he sees the state of you, who knows if he’ll still want to be with you.”

He’s preying on Xie Lian’s worst insecurities, the ones he mentioned earlier: that he’s a failure, that he’s trash. I’m pretty sure this is actually what Bai WuXiang thinks of himself: that he’s a failure, and no one wants to be with him (well, I mean, look at you BWX...) 

We see these fears of being inherently bad in Hua Cheng as a little boy. Everyone seems to believe this about him, especially when the priest tells his fortune:

The Head Priest wiped his sweat and suddenly backed a mile away, “Your highness, you really picked up something you shouldn’t have up the mountain! That small child is toxic! His sign is borne of the most ominous star, the Star of Solitude*, destined to bring misfortune and destruction, the kind that evil loves the most. Whoever touches him will have misfortune befall upon them, whoever gets close will lose their lives!”

... Seeing that everyone was avoiding him like he was a poisonous snake, that child was shocked and started thrashing even harder, biting and screaming, “I’m not! I’M NOT!! I’M NOT!!!!”

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped him around the waist, encircling his small form. A voice came from above his head, “You’re not. I know you’re not. Don’t cry, now. I know you’re not.”

That young child pressed his lips closed tightly, grabbing on to that pair of snow-white sleeves around his waist with a death grip, forced himself to hold back for a long time but in the end he still couldn’t. A stream of tears suddenly rolled down from that round, black eye, and he burst out crying.

Xie Lian embraced him from behind and reiterated firmly, “It not you. It’s not your fault.”

This scene was also paralleled recently in the confession scene in 177, where Xie Lian hugs Hua Cheng from behind to confirm he loves him. But what Hua Cheng fears is being alone because he brings misfortune to the people he loves. He doesn’t want to be alone. Connection, as we’ll see, is vitally important to staying alive and to staying connected to humanity--whether mortal, god, or demon--in TGCF. He even asks Xie Lian in the confession scene not to tell him, because he’s so afraid of being rejected, yet Xie Lian embraces him instead. 

i’m not in pain at all

When Hua Cheng is wondering what to live for, thinking he has nothing, Xie Lian tells him to live for him until he finds another reason to live for himself. This scene again emphasizes the importance of connection and the importance of empathy in connection as well, that a god would speak to a lone, desperate mortal worshipper. Live for their connection. The problem is that Hua Cheng needs to extend some of that love to himself too (like, he’s still drawing himself as exceedingly ugly in his art), but I think that comes through allowing himself to be loved by Xie Lian. So he’s on that path. 

There’s another aspect to the BWX and Hua Cheng foiling that makes me slightly uncomfortable to discuss, but it’s there so let’s discuss it. Hua Cheng’s murals that so panicked Mu Qing and Feng Xin were pretty obviously, er, erotic (the ultimate self-insert real person fanartist; Hua Cheng and Dante could get along). Bai WuXiang is definitely giving off some... creeper vibes. 

The next second, his hair was grabbed, forcibly yanked back then bashed into the ground!

His ears were ringing, his nose and mouth were filled with the astringence of blood, and his head concussed.

It was a while later before Xie Lian felt a hand pull his head out from the shattered ground, and a voice came from above, “So sad, so pitiful.”

Xie Lian choked out a mouthful of blood. White No-Face said, “Every time I meet your highness, you always look like this. Makes one ache. Makes one excited.”

It could just be the translation, but given BWX’s foiling with Hua Cheng, the scene two chapters earlier where Mu Qing and Fen Xin clearly think Hua Cheng is going to harm Xie Lian sexually and Hua Cheng assures him he has no such intentions (not that Xie Lian thought he would), plus what we know of Xie Lian’s utter commitment to abstinence does make me think that Bai WuXiang knows what he’s doing and is doing it to distress Xie Lian. I don’t think MXTX will take it very far (ie I don’t think anything will actually happen in a literal sense), thankfully, but I do think something metaphorically along those lines (ie something humiliating that denies Xie Lian humanity in a sense other than that one, BUT metaphorical is not the same thing) might have happened in the past.

There’s also the fact that Bai WuXiang slamming Xie Lian’s face into the ground and demanding he be like him at the ending of book 3, right before we dive into the past, is a reversal of the scene at the ending of book 1 right before we dive into the past, where Xie Lian slams Qi Rong’s face into the ground because he can’t get him to stop possessing an innocent father. Additionally, in this scene Qi Rong tells Xie Lian something similar to what BWX tells Xie Lian, except Xie Lian is the one in power then:

Xie Lian’s breathing was becoming more laboured, his head dizzy, his body shaking, his hands itching to crush Qi Rong’s skull, but he couldn’t do it. Qi Rong spread his hands, “Hahahaha cousin crown prince, what a failure, what an absolute failure!”

Xie Lian picked him off the ground, raised his fists and rained punch after punch on Qi Rong’s face, yelling with each punch, “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”

Yet, the more enraged he got, the happier Qi Rong became. To be able to drag the both of them to the same hell, Qi Rong was filled with rapture, his eyes shone brightly, “See! There’s your true face! Cousin crown prince, who knows you better than me in this world? You might look like a pathetic, drowned dog that anyone can trample now, but I know. You’re still proud on the inside; you couldn’t stand anyone calling you a failure! You must hate me for calling you a failure! Have I stabbed your heart enough to bleed? Hurry! Come! Or are you gonna tell me loudly that this body is innocent, so you won’t kill me in order to spare him? Come! Show me what you’ll do!”

It’s the same sort of temptation, except BWX has the spiritual power on his side whereas Qi Rong didn’t. Kill me, and become like me. If Xie Lian doesn’t give up, if he stands by his morals even though they’re being challenged because honestly his morals are kind of all he has at certain moments, then they themselves will be condemned, as they already know they are. But they want someone to empathize with them, to understand them. Qi Rong spent his childhood looking up to Xie Lian, wanting to be like him, and now he wants Xie Lian to be like him. He’s still a child, despite being an 800-year-old demon. I have hope Qi Rong will be able to grow a bit through being a parental figure for GuZi, I don’t really for BWX because I find him a terrifying baddie whom I love and despise at the same time. 

What sets Xie Lian apart though, the whole reason Qi Rong loved him so much in the first place, the reason Hua Cheng fell in love with him, the reason He Xuan grew close with Shi Qing Xuan, is because Xie Lian can empathize. He has a sense of wonder about the world, and he doesn’t see himself as better than anyone. He’s naive and yes, proud in some ways, but when his priests tried to kick out a child because the child had a bad fortune, he protected that child. He dove off the ceremonial cart to save a falling child. He knows he failed epically to save Xian Le from falling, to save innocents from dying, but not for lack of trying. 

He Xuan also tried to force Shi Qing Xuan and Shi Wu Du to understand his pain in losing all his loved ones. It backfired, and now He Xuan has lost the one person he still had. (I don’t think SQX is dead, but I doubt he is in a good state.) The meta I referenced earlier is entirely about this, and as @beneaththebrim wrote here, the whole Black Water arc “is a tragic mirror of the main plot.”

The faces under Bai WuXiang’s mask could easily be any of these characters, but they aren’t because they’re able to connect currently. Qi Rong has a genuine connection to Xie Lian, as twisted and torn as it is, and is developing one with GuZi. He Xuan is likely finding out that revenge on Shi Wu Du didn’t bring him the peace he wants, didn’t bring his loved ones back, and irreparably hurt the one person who loved him (Shi Qing Xuan). Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, of course, love each other, and through each others’ love, are hopefully starting, ever so slowly, to learn to love and value themselves too (Hua Cheng you don’t value yourself enough). 

Bai WuXiang is likely terrified of facing the reality that he is alone (and if he doesn’t have the human face disease or some remnant thereof since he’s the mastermind behind it and it’s symbolic of society corrupting & also of loneliness, I’ll be shocked). So no matter how many faces he has in actuality, it’s really only his face under that mask, and that’s what he’s terrified of. 

#tgcf meta #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #heaven official's blessing meta #hualian #hua cheng #xie lian #bai wuxiang #qi rong #he xuan #beefleaf

[themadlostgirl]

Not Dead Yet (Part 53)

Me to Y/N:

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warnings: language, sin

“I was thinking, if you and Peter are friends and lovers then does that mean you love him?”

Peter had been watching Y/N and the new Lost Girl, Wendy, from afar to see how they got along. Y/N was very kind to her and patient when it came to training. The two were as thick as thieves before noon. As if they had known each other all their lives. Maybe it was just the connection girls naturally had or maybe Y/N was just being extra nice so her new Lost Girl wouldn’t want to leave.

Either way it was almost endearing watching Y/N mentor the little thing. He had been listening in to their conversation while they were harvesting some food for supper and found himself stifling laughter when he heard her mention her failed escape attempt where they ended up trapped in the Enchanted Forest for days on end.

Then there was Y/N’s little speech about how Peter was important to her and even admitted that they were lovers. She had been so reluctant to share that information with the boys even after it was made common knowledge. Why was she so open about it now?

He was content to leave it at that and return to camp when Wendy’s question made him freeze. Peter peered closer now unable to hide his interest. What would his precious Lost Girl answer?

“I...do I love him? Love? Peter? As in the Peter Pan that rules this realm?” Y/N looked like a cornered deer her eyes were so wide.

“Yes. I just figured what with what you told me and the way you two were behaving earlier--”

“Stop.” Y/N begged, “I know how it must seem. Friends and lovers and all that other junk but I...well...”

Peter’s heart was hammering. Y/N, did she actually...?

He didn’t want to know the answer. In the next moment he was at the very top of his Thinking Tree looking over the island.

Even with miles of jungle and ocean surrounding him he could still pinpoint Y/N’s presence on the island. His urge to know if she actually loved him was rivaled by his overwhelming fear of the answer. Y/N and him had been through a lot together and he cared about her. But love?

He loved her as a fighter. He lover her as a strategizer. He definitely loved having her as a seductive physical lover. But in a romantic sense? He was the ruler of a realm of feral children and teenagers. He had more power in his little finger than a hundred halfbit sorcerers did in their entire bodies. There was no romance in that!

Besides, Y/N wasn’t one for romance in the first place. She never came to him demanding things like flowers or pretty jewelry or huge balls full of gowns and waltzes. She asked for revenge, for weapons, for deadly pets, and shameless emotionless sex. They had frenzied dances around a huge bonfire and torturing pirates. It was fun. Not romantic.

Surely Y/N knew this as well.

~~~

“I’m sorry, I’ve blindsided you.” Wendy apologized after my mind dropped into panic mode.

Her question on whether or not I loved Peter had thrown me for a loop that I was still reeling from. I already got enough of this crap from Tigerlily I didn’t need it from my new Lost Girl as well.

In complete truth I didn’t know what my feelings for Peter were. I do care about him but to go as far as to say I love him? It was ridiculous. Wasn’t it?

“No need to apologize. Others have made that assumption,” I muttered and readjusted my basket on my hip, “He may be my leader and my friend and my lover but to expect anything more from the imp is a wish even Neverland can’t grant.”

“But do you love him?” Wendy pressed.

“I love...his ambition. I love his talents both magical and mundane,” I thought back to the dozens of pictures he’d sketched and pinned to the walls of the underground cavern, “I even love his twisted sense of humor most days. But Peter as a whole? No.”

Wendy sighed. “I should have suspected as much. You two don’t seem to be very romantically inclined.”

“Romance is a dead hope for foolish adults.” I stuffed down all the complicated feelings that threatened to spill out of my mouth.

I meant what I said about loving aspects of Peter but his ambition and power were only a chip off a mountain. Over the years Peter has become so much more to me than just my leader or my confidant. No, Peter and I weren’t the type to go about with mushy displays that I had witnessed many other idiots employ to woo girls. But to say that there was nothing?

The way we relaxed against each other, the soft pecks that never led to anything, the drawings he made me, the fast dances where we held onto one another for dear life...

Ours wasn’t one of flowers and sonnets but of something raw. Something much more tangible than pretty empty words. Something so powerful I couldn’t let myself dwell on it lest it swallow me alive.

I know Peter. I know what we are. I also know that there is a timer on his life. We have a mission to accomplish. If we didn’t then what would be the point of something as useless as feelings? If we succeed then maybe I’ll come back to these thoughts tumbling round in my head. Till then I’ll be as I always have. Peter’s Lost Girl and nothing more.

~~~

After we were done eating I left Wendy in the care of Devin with explicit orders to keep an extra watchful eye on her. The boys know not to mess with me now but in the beginning it was hard. I was beaten to a pulp, had my life threatened many times, the boys peeped on me while I was naked, and so much other crap. The peeping never really bothered me but that was just me. The precious little Wendy was nowhere near as resilient as I and I was afraid that if I left her alone without some form of protection one of these idiots will try to do something.

I know a part of me should be wary about her after the whole Isaac ordeal but there was something exceedingly innocent about her. It was as if all her life she had never been touched by darkness. Peter has told me tales about people with magic removing hearts and how different they look depending on how kind or evil you are. I was sure that if I saw Wendy’s it would be as pure as they could come. No Black Fairy or other malevolent force was behind her being here. She just wanted to be here like everyone else. Not forever but hopefully that’ll change by the end of the week.

When I was sure Wendy was fine I traipsed off to Peter’s Thinking Tree and dropped down into the cavern. It was still dark inside. Did I get here first? Doubtful. “Peter? Hello?” I shuffled forward in the dark, “I swear, Peter, if you are waiting to scare me I am going to knee that little worm in your pants up into your throat.”

“You are no fun at all,” the torches and candles sparked to life and Peter became visible mere inches in front of where I was standing.

“I’m not? Well then, you probably don’t want to waste your night with a dullard like me,” I took a step back towards the way out.

“Get back here,” he froze me in place, “I was only kidding.”

“So was I. You mind? I thought we were over this whole freezing thing.”

He waved his hand and I was free to move once more. “Apologies, pet, didn’t want to risk you running off. Not when I finally have you to myself.”

“I understand, I’m in high demand.” I sauntered back towards him and pulled him down for a kiss which he was quick to return.

There was a quick rush of air and I found myself being pushed against the bed at the back of the cavern. “Did you really teleport us ten feet? Simply taking five steps would have been too slow?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he pulled me down with him peppering kisses along my face and neck as he spoke, “Did I forget to mention that I spent three terrible weeks trapped and starving to death in a mine? Then when I was finally freed this annoying recruit of mine kept me from doing anything fun because she wanted me to rest. I’ve been patient long enough.”

“Awe, did you miss me?” I teased with a tweak of his nose.

He stared across at me, his thumb gently rubbing my cheek. “Why wouldn’t I?”

I was at a loss for words. But I didn’t need any. Instead I reached for the hand caressing my cheek and brought it to my lips, kissing his palm. I trailed my lips to his wrist up his arm and shoulder and neck till I was back to to his lips. It was a slow kiss. Deep and wanting. We broke apart for air for only a moment before we were latched together again.

It might have been magic or maybe I just didn’t notice that we were undressing each other until I felt the familiar feel of his skin pressed against my own. I felt a hardness poking against my stomach but Peter was in no hurry to do anything about it. More focused he was on my mouth and stealing every last breath from my lungs.

His hands traveled from my hair down my sides, varying from feather light touches to sudden aggressive groping. I let out a small whine when I felt his hands ghost closer to my sex before moving back up my body leaving the bottom half of me trembling and cold. I let him go about with his teasing but by the third time he got close then ignored me the tension between my own legs was mounting. I pressed my legs together for some kind of friction but it did little to nothing to quench the release I so craved.

A plea for him to just touch me already waited on my lips but I swallowed it back. Instead, I reached between us and started working the throbbing flesh so achingly close but infuriatingly far away from my heat in hopes to spur him on.

“Ow!” I pulled back, “You clumsy shit, you bit my tongue!”

It took him a moment to come back to reality as I nursed my sore tongue in my mouth, “Excuse me,” he rolled his eyes, “I thought I was dealing with a professional that liked a bit rougher play.”

“There’s a difference between being rough and being jumpy because I touched your dick.”

“Fuck you!”

“I wish you would!”

He cracked a smile and began to laugh until I was falling into stitches too. He kissed me again still laughing as he guided my hand back around his cock.

“You know,” he left my lips in favor of my neck and shoulders, “If you wanted me to touch you, you could have just asked.”

“You mean to tell me after all these years you can’t just anticipate my needs? What kind of a lover are you?” I let out a stream of short giggles.

“An amazing one.”

“Think very highly of yourself, don’t you?” I cocked an eyebrow up at him.

“Pardon you my precious pet, but in all our years together have you ever had to fake an orgasm?”

“Not this again...”

“Have I not worked beyond and after my own pleasure to make sure you got yours? I’d say that puts me leagues above any other naive selfish worm that would have you just to slake their own cravings.”

“And need I remind you,” I poked his chest with my free hand, “that I have been patiently waiting for you to make a move to finally take me for well over ten minutes now. Even after I said I wish you would fuck me, I’m the one giving you a hand job. How is that fair?”

“It is rather embarrassing to be the one doing all the work around here. You make the first move one of these times.” he gave another exaggerated roll of his eyes.

“Fine,” I flipped us so I was on top of him and slammed down until he was buried to the hilt inside me.

“Shit!” he groaned loudly as his whole body shuddered under me, “How--how forward, pet.”

“Shut up,” I rolled against him wiping that damned smirk off his face to be replaced with a long stream of murmured words of obscenities and praise. He lost the right to be suave and condescending during sex a long time ago.

“Y/N,” he choked out his eyes squinting open and his hands coming up to rest on my hips to still them, “Stop.”

“Huh?” I slowed down, “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just...” he trailed his eyes down from my face to where we were joined, “I was um...you...”

“Peter,” I ignored my need and pulled him up so we were eye to eye, “What are you thinking?”

“Things, lots of different things,” he whispered, “Too many to sort through.”

“So was it one of these things that stopped the sex or...?” I didn’t want to sound frigid but my body was screaming at me to keep moving.

He let out a small laugh bringing me forward in a surprisingly chaste kiss. “Sorry. I don’t know where my head went. As always, you deserve my undivided attention.”

Again, staring into those deep green eyes that watched me with such intensity and adoration the floodgates of pesky emotion begged to be released. So much I wanted to tell him. So much I need him to know. Too much. Too raw. Too terrifying. Just too brutally honest to come out now.

I traced my fingers along a well defined scar on his arm. One I had caused during my first days in Neverland. He was so proud when I landed the hit.

My Peter Pan.

“Oh I know where one of your heads went.” I squeezed myself around him and I could feel his body tense under me. I let my emotions fall away with the snarky response. Peter smirked at me unaware of everything that was going on in my head.

“Truly no other place I’d rather be,” he kissed me again and rocked against me to get me moving once more.

I kissed him back hungrily trying to express all that wanted to be said. Hoping and scared he would understand what it was I was trying to say. Praying to whatever gods may be that if there was any kind of humanity in this world Peter might be feeling the same way.

~~~

Sleep didn’t come for Peter right away like it did Y/N. He was tired but couldn’t fall asleep just yet. He simply laid next to his Lost Girl watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as she rested.

Exactly what he had said earlier that night replaying in his head. Watching her and remembering what he had overhead wouldn’t leave him be. In a moment of idiocy he almost asked her what she had answered to Wendy. The ignorance was killing him and he couldn’t stand it. But the answer scared him back into his right mind.

It wasn’t the right time. He knew that. It may never be the right time. He knew that too. Peter could bear the ignorance better than the potential head and heartache of her answer.

Pet, he thought as he pulled her into the curve of his own body. It never stopped to amaze him how well she fit into him, like two pieces of a puzzle, How is it that you do this to me? How did you manage to trap me in my own mind?

~~~

Many beams of bright light went streaking brilliantly across the clear night sky. Not just white blips but huge balls of pure starlight soaring by with their tails sparkling purple and blue and yellow in their wake. All across the realm from the Lost Boys to the pirates to a wingless fairy alone in a tree watched as the beautiful display continued on and on late into the night.

Wendy Darling oohed and aahed in peaceful ignorance of the meaning behind the unintentional show, unable to tear her eyes away. Elsewhere, Tigerlily couldn’t either but ignorance was a blessing she was not given. As much as she teased the couple responsible for the beautiful phenomenon happening right now she couldn’t help but feel guilty. As long as she had known Peter Pan she had only wanted him to be happy. Now he was. But for how much longer? A broken half of a wand wielded by a wingless fairy could only delay the inevitable for so long.

The island and everyone on it was dangerous and murderous with dark hearts and corrupt morals. But it also held such joy. It was a safe haven for many. It was a home. It was the birthplace of something so strong it literally moved the heavens above.

And may the gods have mercy on the poor souls who get trapped here if half of that heaven-moving force of nature disappeared one day.

(First) (Previous) (Next)

#slowburn #ouat #ouat peter pan #peter pan ouat #neverland #peter pan imagines #peter pan x reader

[7r0773r]

No Name in the Street by James Baldwin

Since Martin's death, in Memphis, and that tremendous day in Atlanta, something has altered in me, something has gone away. Perhaps even more than the death itself, the manner of his death has forced me into a judgment concerning human life and human beings which I have always been reluctant to make—indeed, I can see that a great deal of what the knowledgeable would call my life-style is dictated by this reluctance. Incontestably, alas, most people are not, in action, worth very much; and yet, every human being is an unprecedented miracle. One tries to treat them as the miracles they are, while trying to protect oneself against the disasters they've become. (Take Me to the Water, pp. 9-10)

***

America proves, certainly, if any nation ever has, that man cannot live by bread alone; on the other hand, men can scarcely begin to react to this principle until they—and, still more, their children—have enough bread to eat. Hunger has no principles, it simply makes men, at worst, wretched, and, at best, dangerous. (To Be Baptized, p. 87)

***

For a very long time. . . America prospered—or seemed to prosper: this prosperity cost millions of people their lives. Now, not even the people who are the most spectacular recipients of the benefits of this prosperity are able to endure these benefits: they can neither understand them nor do without them, nor can they go beyond them. Above all, they cannot, or dare not, assess or imagine the price paid by their victims, or subjects, for this way of life, and so they cannot afford to know why the victims are revolting. They are forced, then, to the conclusion that the victims—the barbarians—are revolting against all established civilized values—which is both true and not true—and, in order to preserve these values, however stifling and joyless these values have caused their lives to be, the bulk of the people desperately seek out representatives who are prepared to make up in cruelty what both they and the people lack in conviction. (To Be Baptized, p. 88)

***

Power, then, which can have no morality in itself, is yet dependent on human energy, on the wills and desires of human beings. When power translates itself into tyranny, it means that the principles on which that power depended, and which were its justification, are bankrupt. When this happens, and it is happening now, power can only be defended by thugs and mediocrities—and seas of blood. The representatives of the status quo are sickened and divided, and dread looking into the eyes of their young; while the excluded begin to realize, having endured everything, that they can endure everything. They do not know the precise shape of the future, but they know that the future belongs to them. They realize this—paradoxically—by the failure of the moral energy of their oppressors and begin, almost instinctively, to forge a new morality, to create the principles on which a new world will be built. (To Be Baptized, pp. 89-90)

***

Now, in the interest of public peace, it is the Black Panthers who are being murdered in their beds, by the dutiful and zealous police. But, for a policeman, all black men, especially young black men, are probably Black Panthers and all black women and children are probably allied with them: just as, in a Vietnamese village, the entire population, men, women, children, are considered as probably Vietcong. In the village, as in the ghetto, those who were not dangerous before the search-and-destroy operation assuredly become so afterward, for the inhabitants of the village, like the inhabitants of the ghetto, realize that they are identified, judged, menaced, murdered, solely because of the color of their skin. This is as curious a way of waging a war for a people's freedom as it is of maintaining the domestic public peace. (To Be Baptized, p. 131)

***

I do not claim that everyone in prison here is innocent, but I do claim that the law, as it operates, is guilty, and that the prisoners, therefore, are all unjustly imprisoned. (To Be Baptized, p. 148)

***

The white cop in the ghetto is as ignorant as he is frightened, and his entire concept of police work is to cow the natives. He is not compelled to answer to these natives for anything he does; whatever he does, he knows that he will be protected by his brothers, who will allow nothing to stain the honor of the force. When his working day is over, he goes home and sleeps soundly in a bed miles away—miles away from the niggers, for that is the way he really thinks of black people. And he is assured of the rightness of his course and the justice of his bigotry every time Nixon, or Agnew, or Mitchell—or the Governor of the State of California—open their mouths. (To Be Baptized, pp. 163-64)

***

. . . . Whereas white men have killed black men for sport, or out of terror or out of the intolerable excess of terror called hatred, or out of the necessity of affirming their identity as white men, none of these motives appear necessarily to obtain for black men: it is not necessary for a black man to hate a white man, or to have any particular feelings about him at all, in order to realize that he must kill him. Yes, we have come, or are coming to this, and there is no point in flinching before the prospect of this exceedingly cool species of fratricide—which prospect white people, after all, have brought on themselves. Of course, whenever a black man discusses violence he is said to be "advocating" it. This is very far indeed from my intention, if only because I have no desire whatever to see a generation perish in the streets. But the shape and extent of whatever violence may come is not in the hands of people like myself, but in the hands of the American people, who are at present among the most dishonorable and violent people in the world. I am merely trying to face certain blunt, human facts. I do not carry a gun and do not consider myself to be a violent man: but my life has more than once depended on the gun in a brother's holster. I know that when certain powerful and blatant enemies of black people are shoveled, at last, into the ground I may feel a certain pity that they spent their lives so badly, but I certainly do not mourn their passing, nor, when I hear that they are ailing, do I pray for their recovery. I know what I would do if I had a gun and someone had a gun pointed at my brother, and I would not count ten to do it and there would be no hatred in it, nor any remorse. People who treat other people as less than human must not be surprised when the bread they have cast on the waters comes floating back to them, poisoned. (To Be Baptized, pp. 191-92)

#james baldwin #book quotes

[aoibhs]

All Dressed Up

Chapter One 

Chapter Sixteen

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from The Riot Club/Posh, and all OCs were beautifully crafted by @club-riot

"Tamsin?" Dimitri turned to her. They were just after finishing the main course and were waiting patiently for pudding, "What have you been doing all night? "How do you mean?" Tamsin was still leaning her chin against her propped up hands, gazing at him innocently. "This is what I mean," He gestured to her entire being, "Why are you acting like a crazy person?" "No, I'm not," She shook her head. It was exceedingly unconvincing and she knew it. "I'm not-" Dimitri stopped himself, and sighed, "What do you want, Tamsin?" "What?" She straighten her back, sitting upright again. "Is it money?" "No," "Then what?" Tamsin didn't reply straight away. She paused. Then picked up her glass of red wine and knocked it back. Then she placed the empty glass back on the table and reached over the corner of the table to get ahold of both sides of Dimitri's face and kissed him, full on the lips. They didn't break away or stop or anything. It just went on and on and on. "Oh wow, gosh," Elizabeth looked at the table, avoiding eye contact with anyone and blushing ferociously. "You're married, Lizzy," George laughed, "Surely, you and Leighton are used to this sort of thing," "Only every Tuesday," Elizabeth couldn't help but smirk a little at her own comment. "What do you have on Tuesdays?" James looked at her. "Well, I-" "She has two English lectures from ten until twelve, followed by a tutorial in modern English literature at three and then drama rehearsals from half six to half eight," Guy said. He said it as if he were the most clever person on earth. He said it as if he had just cured Cancer. "I'm impressed," George's eyes went wider than usual, surprise evident on his face. "I'm not," Elizabeth frowned looking at Guy, "How did you know that?" "..You're looking lovely tonight," He replied solemnly, his clever imagine of two seconds beforehand had been shattered. He was now reduced to a creepy stalker. "Guy," She didn't look impressed. Not scary. Just not impressed. And Guy had to mentally slap himself because there was a point where all he could think of was how cute she looked. "Umm..," He began to shrug. Over her shoulder, he could see James looking like he was about to burst with the containment of his laughter. Guy had really dug a hole for himself. "It was me," Poppy waved her arms slightly, getting Elizabeth's attention, "He asked where you were once and I just gave him a copy of your timetable," "What?" "I didn't think you'd mind," Poppy scoffed, both her and Alistair laughing at the situation. "Do you.. mind?" Guy looked at her so awkwardly. So awkwardly. Like a child in trouble. "I mean," She raised her hand to her burning face, "Next time don't make it sound like you follow me around," "He does," Dimitri briefly broke away from Tamsin. "I do not," The look of panic was hysterically evident in Guy's face. "God, I hope not," Elizabeth chuckled, reaching for her glass of gin and lemonade, "You'd be so bored if you did," "Don't put yourself down," George said sadly from in front of her. "Yes. I'm sure loads of people would love to stalk you," Alistair said in a very calm voice. Poppy burst out laughing. Elizabeth wasn't sure how to react. "That is not what I meant," George tapped the edge of the table with his index finger as he spoke. "It's fine," Elizabeth shook her head, wishing that would be the end of the conversation. "Dimitri dear, stop that please," Elena touched her nephew's shoulder as she entered the room again, "Or at least go upstairs," "Mum!" Honora's one word argument told her mother to stop talking. No one needed a translator for that. Not that Elena cared. "Now pudding will be out shortly. Is anyone still thirsty?" "Wine please, madam," Ed actually fell off his chair once he had finished speaking. "Are you sure?" Elena grinned at the state he was in. "It's collective wine, Mrs. Honora's mum," Toby added, "He's asking for all of us," "Very well, I'll have someone bring in two or three bottles," Elena went to leave. "Did you finally realize you've got employees?" Honora snorted. "Honora, do you want to be sent to your room without pudding?" Elena turned back around again, "I can do that. You live here, you know?" Then she left the room again, leaving the group to tease Honora about being sent to bed early at twenty years of age. "Lauren would love all this," Miles said to no one in particular as he looked around the room. After drinking quite a lot already, Poppy was fed up with listening to him rambling on about Lauren. She began to face away from him, speaking to Alistair instead and letting Hugo deal with all the Lauren talk. "He's not worth the effort, Poppy," Alistair said to her, almost coldly, "He's blinded by the commoner," "It's just annoying, Alistair," Poppy pouted, looking like she was about to cry but she wasn't, "I got all dressed up and he doesn't even care," "You do look nice though," He nodded in reference to her navy swing dress. It was different in comparison to what she usually wore to fancy dos. She generally picked brighter colours as well. The darker blue was charming to see on her. And Alistair noticed. She smiled and reached up to hold his hand lightly. She appreciated that he said it, even if he didn't mean it. Alistair was never the type to give out compliments. But he did mean it. "Ooh! Pudding!" James' face lit up when the staff put a selection of cakes, tarts and merengues. "I love chocolate cake!" Elizabeth squealed, "It's literally my will to live," "Would you like to try some cheesecake?" Guy held up his fork of Bailey's cheesecake. "Mmm hmm," She nodded, about to take the fork off him but he instinctively shoved it into her mouth, feeding her, "Mm, it's delicious!" James, George and Hugo exchanged glances, smirking, feeling it wouldn't be long till the Leighton-Masters/Shaw marriage would be forgotten about.

Chapter Eighteen

#theriotclub #guy bellingfield #fanfiction #harryvilliers #theriotclubfanfiction #dimitri mitropoulos #edmontgomery #tobymaitland #alistair ryle #milesrichards #laurensmall #jamesleighton-masters #HugoFraser-Tyrwhitt #george balfour #riotclub #characterxoc #guybellingfieldxoc #posh

[deltaengineering]

summer anime 2017 part 3: welcome to die

Well guess what, I ended up putting posts off for a week.

Again.

So don’t expect a lot of detail here, but do expect a lot of shows.

See also:

• part 1: we can rebuild it

• part 2: bunch of fools

18if

18if is a really weird show about a guy who hangs around people’s dreams and fixes their personal problems - sort of like Persona 4 meets Madoka’s witch mazes. This might have some visual potential if nothing else, and it tries, but what mostly sticks in the mind is that it’s very cheap and also extremely clunkily directed, with a lot of spinning camera tricks that end up looking more desperate than cool. While that does lend it a certain nightmarish weirdness, I doubt it’s entirely intentional and more importantly it makes the show not very entertaining.

Action Heroine Cheer Fruits

So someone made a Love Live clone only with solo tokusatsu performance (?) instead of idols and saving the town instead of saving the school. And the main character is Kotori. Well, silly things happen all the time, but what I didn’t expect is that an anime called Action Heroine Cheer Fruits is actually pretty damn good. Shows of this type aren’t very complicated, but Cheer Fruits nails it where it counts: The characters are likeable, their misadventures are amusing, and the writing is good enough to make me care more about what happens to this town than Sakura Quest managed in half its two-season run. It’s a bit on the cheaper side, but I don’t mind if the fundamentals are this convincing. It also helps that this is written by Naruhisa Arakawa, who previously failed to convince me with active raid but definitely knows a thing or two about tokusatu. Charming and with an appropriately light touch on its silly conceit, this is the surprise of the season.

Ballroom e Youkoso 

It’s a sports shounen! About ballroom dancing...? Well, the manga is fairly well known so the shock factor wasn’t that high here, but I have to say that Ballroom e Youkoso nails the formula, the unusual sport in question makes it less boring than said formula would normally end up being, and it looks pretty amazing. I’m willing to take that chance, if everything goes right this might end up delivering on what Yuri on Ice promised for its first three episodes. Minus the gay of course, but I’m willing to give that up for a show that’s actually consistently entertaining instead. Fingers crossed.

Centaur no Nayami

Yay, it’s another monstergirl manga. This particular one ends up splitting the difference between Monster Musume and Demi-chan, meaning that it only has weird fetish undertones some of the time. Apart from that it ends up mostly boring, because the monster stuff doesn’t really matter, yet the show spends an inordinate amount of time explaining the specific evolutionary circumstances that made this universe possible. Uh, at this point I think I can just accept monstergirls at face value, thanks. The most interesting parts are some hints of this society being not as innocent as it seems, but the other 99% of time it doesn’t seem overly concerned with that: The actual content is just rather boring slice-of-life scenarios of the kind you can get elsewhere easily. I do have to say that opening with girls actually kissing for real is a new one, even if that doesn’t really go anywhere. And that’s really the long and short of it: This seems like a show that doesn’t even really aim to go anywhere, and just isn’t good or interesting enough to make the here and now worthwhile. 

Clione no Akari

This is a 1/3 length short that mostly seems like an anti-bullying PSA. The most tragic girl in the world (sick, orphan, shy, prone to tripping over obvious buckets in the middle of hallways, etc.) gets bullied on top of everything and some other guys feel bad about not helping her. The opening makes it look like everyone will learn a lesson about tomodachiship eventually. I will be nice and say that its heart is in the right place and it’s not actually bad (only extremely hamfisted), but it’s just neither well made nor unusual enough to earn back the time spent watching it; Koe no Katachi has me covered for life on anything this could possibly do.

Dive!!

Do you like ripped dudes glistening in the sun? Sure you do, that’s why you all watched Free! and that’s why we now get another show about pool sports with too many exclamation marks in the name. High diving seems to be a pretty poor choice though, because a single dive takes seconds and this show doesn’t pretend otherwise. The filler around it isn’t very promising either; main dude mostly memorable for being a dick to his girlfriend and admiring his cool senpai instead, no homo. Oh yeah, Yuri on Ice is a thing too, you know. Otherwise you learn more than you’d care to know about the spectacularly uninteresting financial structure of the high diving club, and get to watch the water surface reflecting the sun on to toned abs. Too bad that this particular effect just ends up looking like an unfortunate skin condition. All in all Dive!! is just a poor man’s version of other homoerotic sports anime for fujoshi, and I wasn’t too fond of those to begin with.

Hitorijime My Hero

Speaking of manlove, this one starts out as a fairly engaging character study of a highschooler who hangs out with street thugs because his mother is a prostitute, until the brother of his BFF beats them all up. But then the OP happens and after that it’s pretty much just straight up yaoi tropes because now the dude’s in high school and the cool guy is a teacher, I wonder where this is going. There’s a lot of unfunny komedy and so on. Yeah nah, even a toned down Super Lovers is not what I’m looking for, and laudable opening aside this brings nothing new to the table.

Isekai wa Smartphone to Tomo ni.

I’ve been very mad at smugly ironic genre shows that wallow in the cheapest clichees while “deconstructing” them (i.e., just pointing them out as if that’s an excuse). But the alternative is, of course, just not doing that and playing it all straight without a hint of irony, and it turns out that that is significantly worse. So here’s your 24 minutes of isekai light novel: dude dies, goes to JRPG world and gets to keep his smartphone in complete working condition. Ha ha, I too wish my completely ordinary household item would make me the coolest dude in the universe. But this show goes the extra mile, because while a smartphone might get you some chicks in fantasy land, to get all the chicks you also have to have:

• literal god mode stat boosts

• ability to use all magical elements, an exceedingly rare feat

• access to an even rarer additional magic element on top of that

• the ability to create the irresistible potion “ice cream”

So yeah, this is the isekai power fantasy at its most naked, and apart from making our shitter in chief the most hax guy ever and dropping a huge instaharem on him, he goes beat up trash mobs because that’s what you do. Again, all of this without the slightest hint of self-awareness. Absolute garbage for garbage people from top to bottom, and completely fails to make said garbage fun.

Jikan no Shihaisha

This one at least has the looks down: When it’s an action show, the visuals are really, really cool. Honestly. However, upon further inspection it becomes apparent that this  “Chronos Ruler” here is so poorly written that it cannot be ignored. You guessed it, a lot of exposition and poorly conceived comedy ruin the eyecandy pretty quickly, and it’s all so dumb and dull that I barely remember anything but a vague stink of disappointment. It’s two guys that fight monsters, only not very well? Something about trying to turn back time but that turning out to be a bad idea? It’s all just slush. There's a twist in here that's kind of funny (probably unintentionally) so I won’t spoil it, but it’s by no means worth it.

Konbini Kareshi

Konbini Kareshi is an anime about some highschoolers that have relationship problems and hang out in a konbini, and that’s pretty much it. It’s extraordinarily slow, but somehow I did not end up finding it completely dull - possibly because “nothing happens” also means that nobody talks in this case. A lot of the episode is just awkward, silent situations, with information imparted visually (body language, expressions, etc) instead. Imagine that. Now I don’t want to praise it too much because nothing pays off and, well, nothing happens - but it is actually something markedly different from what you usually see in anime and that’s got to be worth something. I am not sure if I want to give this more chances, but that’s better than being quite sure I never want to see it again, right?

Made in Abyss

If you want to have a master class in how to start a fantasy adventure anime, check out Made in Abyss 01. It just drops you into an utterly beautiful world, sets up a couple of endearing characters and their general situation without boring you with the details, and the explains just enough about the world to answer a few pressing questions that can’t be ignored at the end. It’s beautiful too, great design, great animation, lush backgrounds, the whole shebang. Now it’s essentially a story about a bunch of very young orphans that go spelunking, and the character designs remind me of Ichigo Mashimaro of all things, but I detect no sketchiness here. Obviously it now has a tough act to follow over a whole season, but for the type of show it is you couldn’t ask for a better layup.

Nana Maru San Batsu

Also known as “Fastest Finger First”, this show asks the question: How do you make watching a trivia quiz interesting? Well, the answer is that you don’t. It seems to be a very basic school club show and the topic of the school club is buzzer quizzes. And somehow this fictional story manages to be less engaging than your average actual TV quiz show. Buzzer quizzes don’t have a lot of strategy involved (the show tries to pretend otherwise, but mostly fails), just watching people in quiz-o-vision trying to answer fairly mundane questions is hardly riveting, and besides that it’s just a decidedly subpar comedy. This could have worked if it went full ham like Kakegurui, but it neither has the means nor even much of an inclination to try that. 

Netsuzou TRap - NTR

So here’s the long-dreaded adaptation of the yuri manga that’s so full of bullshit drama that even actual fans of bullshit yuri drama hate it to the point where it became a running joke. And yeah, this sure is bullshit yuri drama about two girls who casually make out while boyfriends aren’t looking too closely. One feels bad about it, the other is a troll. All in all it’s reminiscent of Kuzu no Honkai, except that KnH at least was fully aware that its entire cast was awful people; I can’t even make out what I’m supposed to think about these shenanigans. Now I could say that episode 1 shows potential if it develops properly, but the manga is such a known quantity of bad writing that that’s not a smart idea. It will probably just be Girl A feeling conflicted and Girl B trolling her forever.

Princess Principal

Steampunk is pretty much a laughingstock these days, but I will say that Princess Principal nails the aesthetic if nothing else. It is made of steam and punk; you get your top hats, you get your gears, you get your airships. It’s all pretty cool looking and it also has some nice action. What it’s actually about is some sort of Cold War in divided London, and our protagonists are a crew of schoolgirls that talk about being spies a lot. This is where it becomes apparent that the writer of this was previously convicted of having committed Code Geass (yeah, that guy again), so a certain degree of schlock is to be expected. And really, who else could come up with Steampunk Cold War Berlondon featuring murderous gothlolis? So overall, it’s quite a bit more trashy than I would like but it could be able to pull it off reasonably well on production value alone, and hopefully the writing won’t shit the bed too hard.

Saiyuki Reload Blast

Saiyuki is an old shounen property that adapts Journey to the West. Not to be confused with Dragonball, because this is spaghetti western instead of wuxia. Or so it seems, I’ve never watched one of the anime adaptations that keep getting made every decade or so before. But hey, Reload Blast being a sequel to an anime last made when the ostensible target audience wasn’t even born yet at least has the benefit of not having to deal with tiresome origin stories, we just get to watch the characters do their thing and it’s reasonably easy to figure out anyway. It’s just that it’s not actually all that good; fans of a time when shounen heroes generated a lot of blood spray may get something out of it since it’s pretty violent, but otherwise this iteration of the JttW party are just a bunch of dicks that are trying hard to be cool but aren’t. It’s probably alright for fans of the source material and people hankering for throwback anime, but I don’t think it’s for me.

Shoukoku no Altair

As far as fantasy settings go, a Ottoman-themed one isn’t the most common. So the hero of Shoukoku no Altair hails from fantasy Turkey, which is embroiled in some sort of diplomatic brouhaha with fantasy Germafrance. And that’s really where I start tuning out because this is one of these fantasy epics that start by introducing a million characters that surely will become important eventually, but give me little reason to care about anything otherwise. Exotic locales aside, Altair seems to be mostly setup and the rest of it, the characters, the intrigue, the politics, everything, just don’t motivate me to find out more. It’s possibly not a bad show, but it’s a barely memorable show in a genre I am not particularly fond of.

Tenshi no 3P!

Sometimes it really helps going into random new anime without any previous knowledge. Like here: Tenshi no 3P starts out with a moderately well thought out character sketch of a hikkikomori that spends his day making music and uploading it to the internet. More than a bit tired, but not bad. He then gets a message by “a guy” that wants to work with him. Well, surely nothing bad can come of this. The “guy” turns out to be a primary schooler (girl) from an orphan primary schooler (girl) band that is actually super good but nevertheless needs the services of a music otaku schlub for vague reasons. And then in the end the primary schoolers offer sexual favors in exchange, possibly as a joke but I wouldn't count on that. See, I had been making Ro-Kyu-Bu (i.e., ”Rock-Yu-Bu”) jokes way before that, but as it turns out 3P is by the same author and oh boy can you tell. So it’s this season’s Eromanga-sensei, only somehow worse. I have to admit that I am not even above watching something like this if it’s legitimately great, but thankfully Tenshi no 3P is not even close to being legitimately great. Dodged a bullet there, for sure.

But hey, maybe we will at least get another very embarrassing T-shirt out of it.

Vatican Kiseki Chousakan

And finally, we have a show about some priests from the Vatican that travel the world to examine miracles. Well, one miracle at least, in Guatemala. The concept is somewhat intriguing and could make for a nice horror/detective hybrid with a twist, but I wouldn’t trust anime to pull this off properly, and so it’s no surprise that it doesn’t. For starters we get a pair of very pretty leads that seem primarily intended to bait yaoi doujins, and while it admirably tries for an off-kilter (literally, hope you like dutch angles) horror atmosphere, it is more concerned with out main character’s angst. Yeah I don’t know, the intrigue doesn’t seem particularly intriguing either and the horror just doesn’t quite click - it’s trying for gothick ostentatiousness, but doesn’t quite pull that off. I’d be willing to give this a chance if it was a miracle-of-the-week kind of thing, but considering the amount of characters they introduced for this first case that doesn’t seem to be how this show operates. Or at least I’ll wait until more information becomes available.

#anime #impressions #summer2017 #18if #action heroine cheer fruits #ballroom e youkoso #centaur no nayami #clione no akari #dive!! #hitorijime my hero #isekai wa smartphone to tomo ni #jikan no shihaisha #konbini kareshi #made in abyss #nana maru san batsu #fastest finger first #netsuzou trap #princess principal #saiyuki reload blast #shoukoku no altair #tenshi no 3p! #vatican kiseki chousakan

[joly-and-the-satellites]

So uhm College AU? Grantaire running against Enjolras as President of the student government just to piss him off but Grantaire actually wins and he panics because "this wasn't part of the plan Bossuet stop laughing!" And he ends up asking sour Enj for help.

((Hopefully this is alright, anon!!))

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. It was just a joke, for the love of god - just a harmless, playful little jest to get Enjolras’ attention, and maybe rile him up a bit. It was Grantaire’s favorite pastime, after all; and something he was rather skilled at, if he said so himself. The point stood, regardless of his talent: running against Enjolras for the position of Student Government President was nothing more than a joke. Hell, he’d even treated it as one - he wasn’t serious in the slightest, never dressed the part, was never on time, didn’t put up any posters asking for the votes of the other students… whereas, predictably, Enjolras was taking it all in stride with a certain solemnity; the exact opposite of Grantaire’s approach. He was clearly doing all he could to secure the position for himself - which was more than any of the other runners were doing by a mile. There was never a doubt in R’s mind that he would win by a landslide come election time; which was the deciding factor in whether or not he’d run against him. Enjolras already had it, as far as he was concerned. Which was why, when it had been announced that Grantaire had been named President, he’d choked on his drink to the point of scaring Joly into thinking he’d somehow managed to drown himself. Now, Grantaire was sitting on the edge of his bed, wine bottle in hand, wide-eyed, and struggling to fully grasp the situation. It was absolutely ridiculous.  Sure, he was sociable with others, got into less altercations, and was generally more laid-back and involved in things outside of politics than Enjolras; but that hardly meant he was President material! He was a far cry from it! He was no problem-solver, nor was he well-informed on the concerns and questions of the student body, as a whole or as segments; and he didn’t even understand what it all entailed! Did he have powers? Could he actually do anything with his title? Was he suddenly going to flooded with questions from other students? Would it give him any leeway if he turned an essay in a few hours past due? Grantaire ran a hand through his already unkempt hair, and took a swig from his bottle. “I cannot believe,” he started, only to be cut off by a snort from Bossuet, who sat next to him. He shot him a disbelieving glance - the other had a hand over his mouth to hide a mirthful grin, but his eyes were shining with laughter he was barely holding back. “I cannot believe - they elected me! What the fuck!?” Grantaire groaned in sorrow. He was nowhere near drunk enough for this. Bossuet broke into honest laughter then, shaking his head and wiping at his eye as if he’d teared up. R gaped at him, lowering the bottle to the floor before he turned to face him. How could he laugh!? This was an absolute disaster! “This wasn’t part of the plan, Bossuet!” He protested; this time, Bossuet snorted. Joly, who was at the desk typing up a paper on his laptop, snickered under his breath this time. Grantaire whipped around to face his other friend with a look of shock. Joly cast an innocent glance over his shoulder before he went back to typing, but his shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. Grantaire couldn’t believe this betrayal from his own best friends! It was treason! Dissent in the ranks! “Stop laughing!” R said, exasperation clear in his voice. “Alright, alright - I’m sorry!” Bossuet grinned, holding up his hands in surrender. It was exceedingly obvious, Grantaire decided, that he was not at all sorry. “It’s just… you were kind of asking for this, ‘Taire.” R was sure he was gawking at him; but he could safely say that his confusion was perfectly reasonable. There was no logical explanation for why R had won the election - but that hardly mattered now. Now, he was stuck with the aftermath; and more importantly, how he was to deal with it. He had responsibilities now that he wasn’t even aware of, he was sure, and he’d feel a bit stupid if he were to ask a staff member what his own job was supposed to entail. But he couldn’t travel through time, and he couldn’t call it off, or pass the job along to someone else– Grantaire grabbed his bottle from the floor again. “This is insane,” he groused. Joly leaned back in his chair with his arm slung over the armrest, the wood creaking faintly. He raised an eyebrow at Grantaire, seemingly doing all he could to withhold a smile. “He isn’t wrong, R. You knew the risk you were taking,” he informed him, a little giggle slipping out between his words. “Maybe you should just call Enjolras, admit that you don’t know what you’re doing, and ask for his help.” Grantaire choked on the wine he was gulping down at that suggestion - Bossuet, ever helpful, whacked him squarely between the shoulders. Grantaire ended up coughing. “For a doctor, you’re causing your patients a lot of problems,” Bossuet teased as R finally caught his breath, grabbing a half-emptied water bottle sitting on the bedside table instead. Joly shrugged a shoulder playfully, turning back to his laptop with a shake of his head. “I’m only saying - you need someone’s advice, R, and Enjolras would definitely be willing to help. Besides, he’s still a little bitter about the loss. Maybe this could gloss things over with him…?” Grantaire sighed heavily at that, dropping his head onto Bossuet’s shoulder for support; the other patted his shoulder sympathetically. Yet another downside to winning this horrendous election. Enjolras had suspected that Grantaire was only antagonizing him by running; and no doubt, he was probably more than just a bit upset about losing it to him in spite of his best effort. He had sent a short, too-formal ’Congratulations on the win.’ that morning, and he had not seen a single text or call since - apparently, neither had anyone else, with the exception of Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Grantaire liked to get him riled up, yes; but he didn’t like to make him angry, let alone upset. For all Enjolras was undoubtedly annoyed then, R knew he was at least a little morose about losing, and the knowledge was tearing him up a bit. He hadn’t intended to win; and never would he intend to cause him any dismay. But if he called now - admitted that it was all a joke gone wrong, that he had no idea what he was doing and couldn’t handle the duties of President on his own - Enjolras would be furious, and rightly so. Grantaire finally insisted, “I can’t call him.” Bossuet took a deep breath, leaning back on his hands - R followed the motion seamlessly, too distressed over the situation to bother with sitting back up. For all that their advice seemed impossible to follow through with, he was incredibly thankful for their presence here. He couldn’t ask for better friends than these two. “I agree with Joly-” “Thank you.” “-you really should call him. Whatever you think will happen, it won’t; I promise,” Bossuet assured him. “He might be a little annoyed, but he’s not going to hate you for asking for some advice. Just trust us on this one, alright…?” Grantaire glanced at his phone, which was sitting by his pillow; he had a handful of texts that he hadn’t yet responded to, almost all of which were concerning his position as President of Student Government… aside from some link to an undoubtedly ridiculous video Joly had sent him ten minutes ago. His head was suddenly filled with the thousand routes this scenario could follow. Enjolras might be furious. He might be annoyed. Maybe he’ll hang up. Maybe he’s blocked R. Maybe he won’t answer at all. Maybe… Bossuet nudged his shoulder lightly, as if hearing his doubts. Grantaire gave a heavy sigh, grabbing his phone as if sentencing himself to death as he shot Joly a rueful look. “I don’t understand why you’re always right.” Joly gave him a too-sweet smile, batting his eyelashes at R as he unlocked his phone. He pulled up his contact list - Apollo was the first name. He tapped the name, opening it up; but he just couldn’t bring himself to press the call button. His eyes wandered to the contact picture - one he’d snapped at a protest a year or so back, where Enjolras was holding a pride flag high over his head and above the crowd, his hair illuminated by the midday sun. God, he was stupid. Bossuet reached over, fast as lightning, and pressed the call button. R felt his heart stop as he scrambled to end the call, fumbling with the phone and almost dropping it. “Bossuet!” He screeched in horror, much to the amusement of the other two. Luckily, he hung up before anyone could answer - and he immediately shot the other a look of mock-annoyance before tackling him, almost throwing them both onto the floor. Bossuet pulled R’s hood up over his head and yanked the drawstrings shut with a laugh, pushing him back by the face. Temporarily blinded, Grantaire flailed to smack his hand away with a laugh, struggling to pull the hood loose and back from his face…… and his phone was playing Enjolras’ custom ringtone. Suddenly, the room was in dead silence, save from the phone’s tune. All of them swiveled to stare at it at once. Enjolras’ picture was on the screen - he was calling back. “… Joly, my love, text Bahorel, please.”“Why…?”“I need to know if R can legally kill me for this.”“Yes, probably.”“I’ll leave my lucky socks to you.”“Those socks are not lucky.”Grantaire was running on auto-pilot when he took the call; maybe he was a bit more drunk than he’d first believed. He held the phone up to his ear almost cautiously, glancing between the two as if they could offer him any help. Joly have a guilty smile, and Bossuet shrugged helplessly. “Hello? Grantaire, can you hear me?” Enjolras asked from the other end of the call. He didn’t sound upset, nor did he sound annoyed - but he was definitely on the fence of both. Grantaire cleared his throat nervously. “Uh… yes. Yes, I am hear you.” “You called me and hung up before I could answer,” Enjolras stated. “Butt dial,” Grantaire said quickly. “I sat on the button.” “Grantaire.”“Anyway, how were classes today? Anything interesting happen? Any essays? Projects?”“Grantaire.”“Yes?” He croaked. “Why did you call?”Silence overtook the call for a moment. Oh, no. How was he to explain this? He hadn’t had any time to think over what he would say, how he would ask, what he’d do if Enjolras didn’t take the request favorably–“Is something wrong?” The other asked, much more softly. Grantaire was so taken aback by the question that he couldn’t quite respond; he wasn’t even sure if he was breathing properly for a moment. “Are you alright? I can be over in five minutes, R, give or take-” “No! - no, it’s alright,  really, you don’t need to come over. I, uh… I’m perfectly fine. Nothing’s wrong. But I… might need help with something.” There was another break of awkwardly heavy silence, and Grantaire was suddenly very aware of Bossuet watching him in nervous anticipation. Enjolras sounded guarded when he next spoke, a certain edge to his words. “With what?”Grantaire took a deep breath to steel himself, feeling as if his face was burning. God, this was embarrassing - maybe he’d stop picking at him after this. (He knew he wouldn’t, but it seemed a sound solution.)“I… don’t think I can actually be President of Student Government, because I’ve got no idea what my responsibilities are and I didn’t intend to actually win or be taken seriously…?”Silence dragged out unbearably. It felt like seconds were crawling by at the pace of an elderly snail. R, for a moment, wished he would have just lied about it, or made something up on the fly. That would have been much easier than whatever hell he was about to unleash. “Unbelievable,” Enjolras said shortly. He didn’t sound furious; he wasn’t raising his voice. But then again, he didn’t need to. His tone said enough. He cringed. There was the fire and ice Grantaire was expecting. “You do know that any sort of election within the student body isn’t to be treated like a joke, correct? This was serious. I was serious.” Enjolras continued on. R ran a hand through his hair, shoulders slouching like a scolded puppy. “Yeah, I know. But… for what it’s worth, I didn’t think I had a chance in hell at winning. I was so sure you’d already won it,” he replied, hoping he wasn’t just feeding gasoline to the flames. Enjolras sighed sharply; Grantaire could almost imagine him rubbing at his temple to push back a headache. Wrong move on his part, apparently. “So what do you need to know?” Enjolras asked, his tone clipped and words short. Oh, you’ve put your foot in your mouth this time, Grantaire thought to himself bitterly.

“Well… I was really thinking that maybe you could just… help me do the right thing?” R started, trying not to sound too hopeful. Maybe if he took the right approach, Enjolras wouldn’t be so sour with him; maybe he’d convince him to help and patch things up between them a bit in the process. “You know better than I do what the other students need, I mean. You’re more in touch with what’s wrong, what’s unfair, what needs fixing; I just thought that… well, that you could help guide me along…?” The air was filled with the anticipation from his friends, and worry from himself; he could hear his heart drumming away as if caught between his ears, and could almost see Enjolras, sitting in his own room, phone in hand while he considered the request. Finally, he gave an annoyed huff. “Fine. But you had better not run against me next year, R.”Grantaire grimaced. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”“… I’ll be over soon. I’d rather talk in person than over the phone,” Enjolras announced. He sounded a bit aggravated, but nowhere near as incensed as he’d been before - really, he just sounded exhausted with the whole situation. R was hoping that was an improvement, if nothing else. “Have I ever told you that you’re the best person in the world, Apollo?” Enjolras immediately went back to his long-suffering, exasperated tone.“Please, don’t.”“No, really.”“R, I’m hanging up.”“Oh, come on! What will it take? Do I have to serenade you? Take you to a romantic dinner? I hear that the restaurant down on–hello? Enjolras?”“Did he hang up on you?” Joly cackled, already closing his laptop to leave. “No,” Grantaire argued childishly. “He lost service, that’s all.”

#I call this one: Karma's a Bitch #alternatively: R Has No Sense of Consequence #les miserables #modern au #enjolras #grantaire #joly #bossuet #college au #exr #modern au exr #college au exr #joly's journal

[dontshootmespence]

A Living Nightmare

A/N: An anon request for a Spencer x Reader where they are married and work together. The reader, who was diagnosed with placenta previa, is pregnant with their third child; she gets abducted by an unsub and gives birth. Then it’s a race to find the baby. Also, when there’s three kids, it’s pretty much gonna be Alexander, Oliver and Harper. People seem to like those names XD @coveofmemories

Warnings: Depictions of blood. Traumatic birth.

                                                             -------

Breathe, Y/N. Taking this case so close to heart is not good for the baby or you.

“So,” Emily said, overlooking the evidence on the board. “We have three young mothers out with their toddlers who were knocked out from behind. All three of their children were taken and three days later, they were found in a seemingly unrelated area.”

“They were let go,” Spencer said with confidence. “I would say found if it were only one of three. But three out of three? That means this unsub took these children. Determined they didn’t meet whatever expectations they had and let them go. Our unsub is looking for a particular replacement.”

As mothers yourselves, both JJ and yourself were taking this case harder than the rest of the team. All you could think of was the boys at home with the babysitter. Oliver and Alexander were the lights of your life - so was this new baby. In less than a month, you and Spencer would have three beautiful babies. The thought of them being taken, or something happening to them, made your  heart stop. “Our unsub is a woman,” JJ said in recognition, just as you were coming to the same conclusion yourself. “She’s looking for a replacement for a child she lost.”

“Think about it,” you started, noticing that the rest of the team still needed some convincing on the ‘the unsub is a woman front,’ “None of the mothers were killed - or really harmed in any way, they were just knocked out for the purpose of taking the children. Upon the children’s return, they were found to be completely healthy. No sign of physical or sexual abuse, which would be expected if we were looking for a pedophilic offender. She’s not going to stop until she gets the child that meets her needs.” As you left off, you started patting your stomach, feeling your little one kick. Spencer walked over and put his hand over yours, knowing with just a look how much this case was getting to you.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he whispered in your ear. He knew the thoughts that were racing in your head right now. The children that had been taken were all between 18 months and three years old. Both of your boys fit that age range. After giving you a kiss on the forehead, he turned to the rest of the team. “The one thing I don’t understand is that two of the children were boys and the last one was a girl. So gender doesn’t matter?”

“Going from boys to a girl could mean that the unsub is devolving. She’s desperate to replace the child she lost no matter what,” Rossi said, scared of what that could mean. While Rossi explained of a similar case he’d been through years before most of you had joined the team, Emily stepped out of the conference room to take a call.

When you saw her come back to the conference room, you could tell she didn’t have good news. “We have another one, don’t we?” you asked, your heart lurching into your throat. She nodded.

“Another mother has been knocked out with her 18-month old son taken,” Emily said, briefing them on their newest victim. “Just a few blocks from here. “Y/N, I want you to stay here and work on the profile. With a month to go and placenta previa, I don’t want you out in the field.” You’d been diagnosed with marginal previa, meaning that your placenta was right near your cervix. It hadn’t happened with the boys, so you’d been able to deliver vaginally, but in about three weeks you were scheduled for a c-section because of the previa. Vaginal delivery was too risky. “The rest of us will go to the victim’s house and the hospital. Our mother’s name is Catherine Wicks; she’s okay, but being examined at the hospital. Her husband Daniel is at home. I informed the local authorities to keep him at home just in case a call was made about the baby.”

“What’s the baby’s name?” you asked, barely above a whisper. You needed to have a name for this innocent little boy.

Emily met your gaze. “His name is Aiden. We’re gonna get him back Y/N.” As everyone turned to head out, Spencer took your face in his hands and kissed you.

“We’re gonna find him,” he said as he caressed your cheek. “We’re gonna bring him home.”

As they turned to leave, you felt the baby kick again, turning towards the board to continue working on the profile.

                                                            -------

“She’s gonna be okay, Reid,” JJ said as they hopped in the car with Luke. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was exceedingly worried about Y/N and the baby.

Rossi took the wheel of the other car as they were all instructed by Emily on who would go where. “Reid, I want you, JJ and Luke to go to the hospital and talk to Catherine,” she said through the phone. “Rossi, Stephen and I will go to the Wicks’ house and talk to the husband.”

Within minutes, they were all where they needed to be - determined not to let this happen to anyone else.

                                                           -------

After going over the profile numerous times and not coming up with anything new or helpful, you decided to go home, put on a more comfortable pair of pants, say hello to the boy and Casey, their babysitter, if she hadn’t already taken them to the park and then return with a fresh mindset. 

As you drove home, your mind wandered to thoughts of the boys and this new baby (which you had a feeling was a boy, but weren’t quite sure). The idea of anything happening to them made you want to burst. You only had to deal with the thought; these mothers and fathers had to deal with the reality. Thankfully, you didn’t live all that far from work, so within minutes you were home and putting your key in the lock.

Just as you unlocked the door and pushed it forward to let yourself in, you felt something hit the back of your head - then everything was black. 

                                                          -------

What’s going on?

You felt a breeze on your lower half and when your eyes fluttered open you saw her. A woman with brown hair and brown eyes staring back at you as you were lying on your side. All of a sudden, you felt a stick in your lower back. “What was that?” you asked, your eyes popping open to see the reality of your situation. 

“That was a spinal anesthetic,” she said calmly, staring your way with an eerily calm smile as she pulled on gloves...she was going to give you a c-section. The feel was already leaving your lower half and she had your feet tied to your dining room table. 

“You’re a doctor?” you asked, trying to assess your situation. In all likelihood, this was your sub. She nodded, pulling out the medical supplies she was going to be using on you. “Did you take Aiden Wicks? Where is he?”

“He wasn’t the right one. I left him nearby when I saw you,” she said softly. “This one is the right one.” Think Y/N. What were you going to do? What if the boys came home? This woman was obviously devolving quickly. What would she do to Casey and the boys if they came home? You had to keep them out of the house.

You reached toward your bag, but she pinned down your arm. “I need to tell the babysitter not to come home,” you insisted, the tears swelling in the corners of your eyes. “She has my boys.”

“I’ll text the babysitter,” she said serenely. “What’s her name?”

“Casey,” you breathed, trying to steady yourself to keep the baby as safe as you could. With the anesthetic in effect and your feet tied, you were well aware that this woman intended to walk out of here with your bay in hand. Her fingers moved a mile a minute as she texted Casey. Hopefully, they wouldn’t come home to see you like this. “Why are you doing this? Please don’t hurt my baby.”

“I don’t want to hurt the baby. People took my baby away,” she said sadly. Yea probably because your doing a c-section in the middle of some random woman’s house. “I know what I’m doing. I did these before they fired me from the hospital.” So, she worked as an OBGYN before being diagnosed with whatever it is she had. Judging by her midsection, she’d had her baby recently. Without knowing anything else, your assumption was that she had postpartum psychosis. “Do you feel this?” she asked, wiping her fingers down the area of your stomach where your actually OBGYN told you he’d be opening you up.

“No,” you cried, unable to move anywhere do the ties at your feet and the numbness in your midsection. After ensuring you couldn’t move, she grabbed a bottle of what turned out to be antibiotics. “These will help make sure you don’t get an infection.” She didn’t actually want to hurt you; her sole focus was the baby. What is going on?

“Please don’t do this.” But it was too late. Without the curtain in front of you, you watched as she ran the scalpel across your lower abdomen, crimson red blood flowing out to your sides. Despite the gruesome nature, you felt almost nothing but pressure, which was how the procedure was supposed to go - you could only assume she had medical knowledge if she wasn’t actually a doctor. With the incision made, you stared in horror, screaming for her to stop, as she reached inside, slowly but surely pulling the baby out of you. 

The sweet sound of crying filled your ears. At least the baby was alive. “She’s perfect,” the woman said, cradling your baby in her arms. It’s a girl. Give me my baby. After making sure she was okay, the woman placed her in a carrier that you had put side for your trip to the hospital. The minutes that passed seemed like hours as you watched this woman mother your child, but finally, she returned to you - she was finishing the procedure. In all your years with the Bureau, you’d never heard of a case like this. She looked almost caring as she spoke. “I can see you had placenta previa, but nothing ruptured during the procedure. I was very careful.” You nearly passed out from shock as she removed your placenta and proceeded to stitch up your incision. You have to stay awake enough to call someone. After cleaning you up, she returned to your little girl. “Thank you,” she said, picking up the crate and walking toward the door. 

“No! Please!” you screamed. “Give me back my baby!”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #dontshootmespence #a living nightmare

[pieceofmyheart8]

Crookedly in Love - Chapter Thirty Nine (A Shawn Mendes Fan Fiction)

WATTPAD

MASTERLIST

Chapter Thirty Nine

If I’m being honest, the days after our fight were a blur. I can���t remember which day was which. They all melted together into one big downward spiral. I called him the day after we had fought at Camila’s party. The day after we yelled at one another what we were actually feeling. No more holding back. It was all out in the open.

And I’m pretty sure all he thought was that I used him. That I played his heart like he did mine just to advance my career. And he couldn’t wrap his mind around why I would do that.

But, I could say the same thing to him. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that he would risk our friendship for his career. To advance his own career. And I still loved him. That was the different. It wasn’t that I was using him. I loved him, I wanted him.

There was just that one thing I couldn’t get past. And it broke us. I knew it would, I just didn’t think it would happen so soon.

It had been two weeks since we talked. We were supposed to have a hit song in to Nelson Paul by the end of this week. I was freaking out. I was still locked down by a contract.

“Shawn,” I said, into my phone. “This is the seventh voicemail I’ve left for you. I’m not going to stop calling you. I know you have your phone on you.”

I took in a deep breath.

“Look, we both said things the other didn’t want to hear that night. But, I still care for you. I still care so much about you. I don’t want our…”

Friendship? Relationship?

“Our…us,” I stumbled, “to end like this. Please. We have to get together to write a song at least. Just please call me back.”

I hung up the phone with defeat. There was no way he was getting back to me. There was just no way.

I chucked my phone at my bed because I couldn’t bear to even think about what had happened anymore. I had been torturing myself with the fight for two weeks now. I had been replaying our conversation over and over, listening to his words.

I didn’t ask you to pull out your guitar when we were twelve and show me a song you wrote.

So this was my fault. For being twelve. For having a guitar. I refused to feel guilty about this. He had this coming.

There was a knock on my door. I jumped up. I knew there was no chance it would be Shawn, but a little part of me believed it could be.

“Come in,” I said, sighing.

Camila walked in, and I tilted my head. I sat up, and she looked extremely serious. Something inside of me didn’t sit quite right. She was going to deliver bad news; I could feel it.

“Hey, wha’s up?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowing.

She pressed her lips together.

“Julia, I’m so sorry,” she said, throwing her arms around me.

I didn’t even hug her back. I was so confused. I moved away from her.

“What did you do?”

“I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling. That was so shitty of him,” she went on to say.

“What? Of Shawn?”

“Yeah,” she said, as if it were obvious. She blinked at me, and I couldn’t help but being completely and utterly lost in this conversation.

“What? What happened?”

“Wait, you don’t know?” she asked, surprised.

“Know what?” I was getting exceedingly antsy now. I couldn’t bear this anymore. I knew it was absolutely horrible by the look on her face. By the look that said it all – she didn’t want to tell me because she didn’t want to be here to see my reaction.

She took in a deep breath and started rummaging through her purse.

“Camila, you’re scaring me,” I said.

She still didn’t say anything, and my head ran a million miles a minute. Something Shawn did. To me. I couldn’t exactly guess what it was. Maybe the press published our fight we had on the street that night. That would be bad. Maybe Nelson was firing us because we hadn’t come out with a hit. Maybe…

“You haven’t listened to the radio lately, have you?” she asked. “Checked the blogs?”

I shook my head.

“Shawn released a song last night,” she said, looking down at her phone. “It’s been going viral since this morning.”

“What?” I yelled. I grabbed her phone without a second thought.

Stitches. That’s what it was called. And I couldn’t help but have this dreaded feeling that it was about me.

The blog post read:

“Shawn releases a new song about Julia? Seems like she took his heart and crushed it with her bare hands. What do you think?”

I pressed play anxiously on the link that was provided. My heart was racing, beating out of my chest. I listened to the first few words:

I thought that I've been hurt before But no one's ever left me quite this sore Your words cut deeper than a knife Now I need someone to breathe me back to life

I couldn’t believe this.

“What the fuck?” I murmured to myself.  My words cut deeper than a knife? I hurt him like no one before? How dare he. After all he put me through.

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe Shaking, falling onto my knees And now that I'm without your kisses I'll be needing stitches

It’s as if I watched him suffer. As if I watched him break and I was just okay with it. I let him beg for me, and I didn’t turn around. Like a cold-hearted bitch.

I pressed pause, and I just stood there. I wasn’t even aware that tears were flowing down my face. That I was crying.

“I can’t believe this,” I said, softly. “After…after everything he put me through. After everything he did to me. He does this?”

Camila came over to give me a hug. I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed by all of this. By his words, his twisted story.

“I’ll be back,” I said. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that he would do this to me. That he would say all of this about me.

And without a second thought, I shot off down the driveway. I went over to his house in a fury. In an absolute rage. I could feel the smoke trail behind me and I got into the car in my driveway.

I turned on the engine and sped out onto the street. I went to the recording studio I knew he would be hiding after he released his first song.

I don’t even know how I got there. I just know that I was marching down the hallway into the private studio, ready to unleash my rage.

I saw him standing there, and I marched up to him.

“Julia,” he said, his eyes widened.

My first instinct was to slap him. And I did just that.

My hand struck his face, and I watched his head cower from the blow. I couldn’t even feel sympathy.

“How dare you,” I said, seething. “How dare you tell everybody a completely warped version of the story? After every single lie you told me. After every single piece of my heart you broke. You feel like you had the right to release a song that portrayed me as a villain?”

He didn’t say anything. He just held the side of his burning cheek.

“When I innocently fell in love with you and became involved in a situation I didn’t want to be in? How dare you play the victim!” I yelled.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “It’s what I felt.”

“You felt like I ripped your heart out? That you need to be mended?” I said, in outrage.

“Yes,” he replied, stubbornly.

“And you wrote this song without me! Nelson asked us to write one together.”

“So, what?” he asked. “I’m the one singing it. I’m the one who people match the song to. Not you.”

I was taken aback. “Wow. You’re really going to take this away from me. Even on tour, when we were fighting, you never cut me out of the picture. This was supposed to be ours together.”

“I loved you, Julia. Why can’t you believe that? I’m done with trying to convince you. And maybe things will be easier if you are out of this picture. For both of us. We won’t have to be tortured by seeing one another all the time.”

I couldn’t believe him. I shook my head, furiously. I stepped closer to him.

“Shawn, I am coming on Taylor Swift’s tour with you. You are not cutting me out of this one.”

I turned on my heel to walk away, but not before he said:

“We’ll see.”

“Yeah, we will,” I shot back.

I let the door shut behind me, before I burst into tears.  

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