#live through the level of pain I’m witnessing

[cipher-the-sidhe]

Actually, nothing will radicalize you towards the US health “care” industry quite like trying to navigate it on behalf of a deeply suffering loved one will.

Currently want to burn several buildings to the fucking ground.

#it took them 26 years to find the mass in my brain that’s cause me immense pain #and is blinding me? #fine #but this is making my blood boil #how can a person be expected to just??? #live through the level of pain I’m witnessing #for months at a time? #when the solution is known! and available! #for fucks sake #I’m livid

[nahoney22]

hi hello I don’t know how to use tumblr but your blog convinced me (I had no idea there was such a gold mine of E V E R Y T H I N G on tumblr whew). Anyway I’m a slut for some slow burn romance, can I request something with Echo? Maybe reader has known him since 501st days and liked him since, and learning he lived and joined the bad batch just made her NEED to find him again? Ps I love you, you’re a beautiful soul ok bye

All Roads Lead to You

Echo X F!Reader

word count: 1.7k

Learning from Rex that Echo was alive, you knew you had to find him and after so many years and confess how you really feel for him before it’s too late again.

warnings: Fluff, cute reunion, mutual pining, friends to lovers, first kiss, brief mentions of Echo at the citadel, mentions of death. Safe for work. Female reader. Not proofread.

authors note: oh my darling @burningfieldof-clover I’m so sorry for the delay 🙈 this got lost in my drafts. Enjoy 🤍

"Hey, are you alright?"

Rex's voice reached your ears, but the words remained trapped in your throat. You stood there, rooted to the spot, a whirlwind of emotions raging within you. Tears welled up in your eyes as a million thoughts raced through your mind. Then again, how does one react to the miraculous news that the man you had loved for countless years, the man you had believed to be lost forever, was now alive?

It took the gentle wave of a hand in front of your face to snap you out of your daze. Blinking back your tears, you focused on Rex, who wore a concerned expression. "You okay?"

"Echo's alive?" you finally managed to croak out, your voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and hope.

A soft, reassuring smile graced Rex's lips as he nodded. "Yes, he's alive. He's been with another squad for quite some time now."

The shock of the revelation left you struggling to grasp the reality of the moment. Rex had delivered this life- news with such casual ease, unaware of the immense significance it held for you. He couldn't possibly fathom the depths of your feelings for the Arc Trooper.

Rex guided you to a quiet spot and began to unravel the incredible story of Echo's survival. To your horror, he painted a vivid picture of the ordeal Echo had endured from the Techno Union, how he was rescued and his choice about joining another squad. You truly had no ideal to cope with all this information, other than stare at Rex dumbfounded.

You had abandoned your position within the GAR years ago, unable to bear the pain of Echo's supposed death. But now, a chance had emerged, a chance to find Echo and to finally confess the love you had hidden away for years. However, the question of whether it was too late, whether Echo even held the same feelings for you, loomed large. But you had to find out one way or another. “How do I find Clone Force 99?”

Rex had been kind enough to provide you with the coordinates of the last known location Echo was heading to, and you had promptly booked a shuttle to get there. The journey was arduous, with doubt gnawing at your thoughts the entire way. Your mind whispered that this might be a foolish mistake, but the need to see Echo, to confirm his existence with your own eyes, outweighed all hesitation.

As the shuttle touched down on the unfamiliar planet, you felt a sense of disorientation and timid uncertainty. You questioned whether you should first explore your surroundings or make an attempt to find Echo yourself.

However, your gaze was drawn to the vast expanse of the ocean. It had been too long since you had witnessed such natural beauty, the sun's gentle rays dancing on the water's surface. The clean, fresh air was a stark contrast to the stuffy atmosphere of the deeper levels of Coruscant. You had overheard that this planet served as a refuge for many after the Clone Wars, and it seemed like the perfect place for it.

Lost in contemplation, you were brought back to the present by the presence of a small girl standing beside you, her bright brown eyes and short blonde hair catching your attention. She gazed up at you and inquired, "Are you okay?"

You offered her a warm smile and nodded. "Yeah, thanks. Just... taking it all in."

She eagerly inquired, "I love it here. Are you visiting someone or staying?"

Your soft laughter filled the air as you found her nosiness to be quite charming. Truth be told, you didn't see a reason to hide the purpose of your visit. "Visiting someone."

Her eyes lit up with excitement. "Who? Maybe I know them?" Her eagerness was infectious, and you couldn't help but notice the familiarity in her eyes, a certain resemblance that tugged at your memories.

You began to answer, "Alright, he's called Ec—"

But before you could finish, a commanding voice interrupted, "Omega, come. We need to get going." The voice sent a shockwave through your heart, and your breath caught in your throat. It was a voice you had longed to hear, one you thought you'd never hear again.

Omega let out a sigh and offered you an apologetic look before turning and hurrying to the source of the voice. As you turned to see the speaker, your heart skipped a beat. Echo stood there, so different yet unmistakably the same. His gaze on you was strong, as if trying to piece a picture together of who you were.

"But Echo, I was helping her find someone," Omega protested, gesturing towards you. Her words were distant as Echo's gaze locked onto yours, trying to recognise the changes in your appearance from the last time he had seen you. Your hair, clothing, and your civilian guise had replaced the uniformed visage he remembered.

Interrupting the profound moment, Omega's question rang out, but both you and Echo remained captivated by the connection rekindled in that shared gaze. Soon, the other members of Echo’s squad gathered by Omega's side.

Hunter's curiosity was piqued as he observed the unfolding interaction, and he couldn't help but ask, "What's going on?" Omega simply shrugged, her eyes trained on Echo and you.

With a few more tentative steps, Echo closed the distance between you, his head tilted slightly as if to analyse you, to confirm that it was really you. Your voice quivered as you managed to say, "Hi, Echo," and he echoed your name in a soft, heartfelt tone.

A warm smile graced his lips as he admitted, "I can't believe it's you."

A gentle, albeit slightly teasing, response escaped your lips. "I could say the same."

Finally, the emotional barrier gave way, and you found yourselves locked in each other's arms, holding each other as though afraid to let go. "

I've missed you so much," you whispered into his chest, your glistening eyes revealing the depths of your longing. The tears threatened to spill, impossible to hold back any longer.

And then, an unexpected comment from one of Echo's companions, "I didn't know Echo had a girlfriend,” broke the tender moment and you could not help but laugh.

“Let me introduce you to the others,” Echo pulls out of the hug, offers you a reassuring smile and guides you to his new comrades.

Later that evening after some good, really good food, yourself and Echo take a walk down by the shore. Making small talk and catching up on everything you both have missed, it felt like nothing changed between you both. It was everything you could have hoped for.

"I really can't believe you're here," Echo chuckled, a sense of disbelief lingering in his voice. "I never thought I'd see you again."

A soft smile graced your lips as you matched his pace, coming to a stop as you spoke. "Me either."

Then, with a touch of hesitation, you blurted out, "So, uh, are you seeing anybody?" The question took even you by surprise, and it seemed to have a similar effect on Echo. His curiosity was piqued as he observed your flustered expression.

He folded his arms over his chest, shaking his head. "No, are you?"

Your reply came swiftly, perhaps a bit too swiftly for your liking. "No." You didn't give yourself a chance to consider the implications of your response, and Echo didn't press further.

His next question, however, held a hint of teasing, and his voice carried a subtle tone of curiosity. "Oh yeah? And why's that?" It seemed as though he was studying you, and for a brief moment, you thought he might have moved a bit closer, but it was hard to tell if it was just your imagination.

Your breath wavered as you gazed into Echo's eyes, your heart racing just like the first time you had ever met him. It felt like the right moment to lay bare the truth, to let him in on the emotions that had been tucked away for far too long.

"I have feelings," you began, your voice steady but your eyes now avoiding his, "for you. I have feelings for you."

Echo's eyes widened, and he blinked in astonishment, his words caught in his throat as he grappled with the unexpected confession. "You have feelings," he repeats, taking a step closer, his voice barely more than a whisper, "for me?"

You dipped your head, nodding as you ran a hand through your hair nervously. "I always have, Echo. I've loved you for so, so many years." The truth hung in the air between you, a confession that had been kept in the shadows for far too long.

The crashing waves almost drowned out the deafening silence that followed Echo's lack of response to your confession. Regret started to surge through you, the weight of the confession now hanging heavily in the clear air, making the situation uncomfortable and awkward.

"Sorry, I should go," you quickly uttered, turning to leave, but before you could take a step, his hand swiftly caught your wrist, pulling you back towards him. You stumbled slightly, finding yourself suddenly close to his chest, confusion painting your eyes.

In a moment that felt like a dream, Echo leaned in, nose nudging against your own and his breath brushing against your face with his lips hovering close to yours. "Echo?" you whispered, a rush of chills coursing through your body.

"I love you too," he finally uttered, his eyes closing as his lips met yours in a tender, affectionate embrace. "I've loved you since the first night I met you," he confessed, his warm breath mingling with yours as his hand moved to your waist, drawing you closer.

The kiss unfolded slowly, a perfect and intensely romantic connection, a moment that exceeded all your imagined dreams of being with Echo. It felt surreal, but his touch, his lips, assured you of his reality. When the kiss finally parted, he breathed, "Stay with us. Stay with me."

In that instant, any doubt vanished. You knew you would never even consider leaving his side again. Echo's confession sealed the bond, and you embraced the certainty that this was where you belonged, in his arms.

Masterlist

Taglist if you want to be added or removed (please note I’ll remove you if you’re not interacting with my work 🤍)

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova a @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @sol-the-otter @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @imalovernotahater @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness @photogirl894

#echo x reader #bad batch echo #the bad batch #tbb echo x reader #the bad batch echo x reader #tbb #nahoney22 writes

[matan4il]

Buddie 615 meta

Before we really get into it, I’m just gonna snicker for a second over the fact that the death doula is named Natalia. Why? The name is related to the Latin term for Christmas Day, which is the holiday when Jesus was born. So the word that the name comes from is related to birth, natal. There’s a touch of irony there, that they gave this name to the girl who is not just a death doula, but who looks like she’s actually into death (who thinks dying for a few minutes is cool or amazing. I have to say, it’s not. It’s a good thing to accept death as a part of life, one that heightens life’s meaning, and help others do the same, it’s another to think that the physically and emotionally scarring experience of being dead for a few minutes is “cool”) and I think that’s an interesting tone to choose when introducing Buck’s new Love Interest. (if you’re into it, you can find more name meanings for 911 characters here) ~~

The scene of Eddie and Chris at the cemetery was very touching. It also spoke volumes on how Buck has taken the same role in Christopher’s life as Shannon. We saw in eps 611 as well as this one that Chris is hoping to be heard by the parent that life has taken away from him (Shannon for good, Buck temporarily). What I find interesting is that with the hospital visit, Eddie must understand this on some level. Even with the guardianship reveal, no one has ever explicitly referred to Buck as Chrstopher’s other dad. But he is, and moments like this cement it. We talk about these parallels, but Eddie gets to live them. He witnesses with his own eyes his son talking about Buck in the same way he does about Shannon. Eddie KNOWS what Buck is to their family unit and it’s not just an emergency guardian. ~~

Which connects me to something I touched upon in my 614 meta, Eddie’s journey. He’s supposedly been okay with dating again since 406, but in the last ep we discovered that he’s still held back by past trauma from his failed relationship with Shannon. She’s featured heavily in this ep, too. Her being Christopher’s mom means she’s a presence in Eddie’s life who will always be there. A reminder of how things can go wrong, meaning romantically, but also just in terms of how unexpected death can be.

It pained me to go from Eddie admitting in 614 that he didn’t want to be alone, to him echoing the words of their deceased vic, “We’re all gonna die alone.” That’s something I’ve heard people saying not so much regarding the question of whether there would be someone by your side when you pass away. More like, when death claims us, we all embark on that last journey into the dark unknown on our own. Whether there’s something after death or not, we’ll all discover that completely by ourselves. That’s such a deeply lonely thought, and we see Eddie trying to deal with it in this ep by not postponing seeing his parents. He realizes he was wrong to assume they got time, because death might come for us at any given moment, just like it happened with Shannon. It’s a continuation of his journey, which is obviously not over yet, but to me it’s quite surprising how this week’s ep actually joined Buck and Eddie’s with the common theme of death, but specifically death intertwined with their romantic life. I think each of them is such a fascinating character in its own right, so why the need to connect their journeys like this? I am staring at you, 911. ~~

I was happy that Eddie brought up what a bad idea it is for Buck to be dating someone they helped on a call. This has been a theme with Buck since he meets the snake lady on a call in 101, through Ali in 202, Taylor in 206 and now Natalia. In other words, this has a big, red sign al over it that says it’s doomed to fail, but our Buck is once more failing to notice that. Hopefully the rest of the events in 6b will help him learn and stop making this particular mistake, where he connects his idea of having self-worth only as a firefighter with thinking he can only be romantically desirable to those he helps on calls. ~~

I wrote in this ask reply about the insanity of how Buck and Eddie seem to always start dating again in consecutive eps. As if 911 is not unhinged enough about that, we also have Buck and Eddie being obstructive with the other guy’s dating attempts, first Buck suggesting ghosting to Eddie as a way of blowing off his date with Vanessa in 614, and now Eddie right away pointing out that it’s not a great idea for Buck to be dating Natalia.

We have seen Buddie dating multiple people over the course of almost 5 seasons now, and not a single time have we seen either man on screen approve of their best friend’s romantic partner. Almost like there’s just no one who’s good enough for the man they love so much, right? No one, because on some level, they know what we do, too. That no one else can compete with what the two of them have together. Which is why none of these LIs feel right and acceptable as partners for their best friend. ~~

I love that right off the bat, we got a reminder that Eddie knows Buck better than everyone, on very intimate levels. Just like Eddie knew when Buck was having an emergency session with Dr. Copeland back in 404, while even Bobby as their captain didn’t, we now saw Eddie knows how well Buck handles his taxes. It’s such spouse behavior. Most of us do not have best friends who keep tabs on how we handle governmental bureaucracy, right? But then the end of this ep circles back to this idea and gives us that scene at the cemetery where Eddie proves that this is true not just when it comes to the small things of daily life. He sees Buck, knows him, understands him and Eddie accepts him in every possible way. Which is why he can say that Buck has indeed been different since the lightning strike, an awareness we don’t hear from anyone else, not even from Maddie, Buck’s very close and loving sister.

It reminded me of how Buck said in 309 that Eddie can be honest with him. Then in 511 Buck repeated a variation of that, saying Eddie doesn’t have to pretend with him. In 513 and 514, Eddie got to be indeed fully open with Buck, just as this was paralleled in 612, where Buck was honest with Eddie. This ep continued to expand on this theme, with Eddie reassuring Buck that he doesn’t need to be anything for anyone. And I loved that in an ep where Buck has just started dating someone new, where he thinks she sees him better than anyone, the person who still gets him the most is Eddie, and that’s the person Buck shares himself with the most, too. There is not a single thing Natalia said to him or that he said to her during their date that can rival the intimacy of the cemetery talk. And if Buck still needs a wake up call to see that, well. I do think there’s a good chance he’ll get one, maybe even very soon.

~~ (my weekly meta posts) (my Buddie gifs) (all of my content)

~~ ~~ My tag list will follow in the reblog, please let me know if you wanna be added/removed here.

~~ I'm so thankful to the beautiful @eddiediaaz​ for the meta gifs this week! Not only did she step in when my regular giffer couldn’t do it this week, she also made so much effort to make sure the gifs are made as soon as possible, so the meta can be posted as early as possible as well. She’s just amazing and I hope everyone gives her a big round of applause! Merci, cherie!

~~ Thank you to anyone supporting these meta posts. I could never express enough how grateful I am and that they continue to exist thanks to you!

#buddie #911meta #buddie meta #911 meta #9-1-1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddieedit #buddie gifs #911 spoilers #evanbuckleyedit #eddiediazedit #wm #911 #christopher diaz #911edit #911onabc #911 on abc #911abc #911 abc

[giuliettagaltieri]

Project: Pandora

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Synthezoid!Reader

Synopsis: You are experiencing things for the first time and you can't wait to explore what the multiverse has to offer, but for now, you'll start with a messy college dorm room.

Warning: Children having made to witness premarital hand holding and flirting of excruciatingly emotionally constipated adults.

Word Count: 2174

2 of 3

“This is…”  Your face twists, trying to find the right word.  “Odd.” 

You lift your arm, the blanket that Miguel draped on you falls from your shoulder and you watch as goosebumps litter your skin.

Avenger Peter, MJ, and Ned simultaneously inhale sharply through their nose.  The ceiling, the cereal box, and fork suddenly looked too interesting.

Miguel clears his throat and reaches to wrap you tightly with the blanket again.

“That’s the result of adrenaline reflex.”  Miguel grumbles, turning his eyes to the carpeted floor, away from you and the lamp that illuminated the living room and dining area.  “And can you be more careful?  Gravity applies to your clothes now.”

“I know, Miguel.”  You glare at him as you sink on the couch beside him.  You don’t need him to discuss physiology and physics with you.  “I just need time to get used to it all.”

He keeps his mouth shut, his eyes softening as he memorizes every curve of your frowning brows.

“So uhm, you feel fine?”  MJ cuts the tension.  “No trouble breathing?  No pain?”

You laugh softly.  “What does pain feel anyway?”

Obviously, you know it in theory and experienced it quite a lot emotionally but you never really felt physical pain.

A sharp pinch on your thigh makes you yelp and jump like a startled cat.

The culprit beside you has his eyes deadpanned but the slight curve on his lips told you he enjoyed it way too much.

“Asshole!”  You gave Miguel a stink eye, rubbing your poor thigh.

“That’s pain.”  Miguel grins at you. 

You throw a playful punch on his shoulder but a strange pop has your eyes doubling in size.

“Did I just break a finger?”  You almost scream but Miguel keeps the shit eating grin and just grabs your hand, he clicks his tongue multiple times and your heart hammers on your chest.  They spent months perfecting your body, the least you could do is take care of it.  You watch Miguel lift your hand to his face and brushes your knuckles on his lips.

“Looks like a serious fracture, we might need to amputate it.”  You hated how he could make you feel stuff by just altering the timbre of his voice despite uttering such baseless barbaric statement.  “You just cracked a knuckle, firefly, stop worrying.  If you feel any discomfort anywhere though, you tell me.”

MJ picks at the loose thread on her sweater as her eyes darted between you and Miguel.  “They definitely need to go get a room.”  She whispers under her breath.

“Agreed.”

“Agreed.”

Whispered back the two teens beside her.

A loud grumble suddenly travels to their ears.  They turn and see you looking at your stomach, your eyes wide, looking absolutely embarrassed.  “Uhm, I’m hungry?”  Rather than say it, you sound like you are asking for confirmation, which is fair.

Peter immediately snatches his phone to order food.

Ned smiles at you understandingly, you must have been hungry the entire time but did not recognize the feeling.  “How about water?  Does your mouth feel dry?”  Checking your electrolyte level slipped their mind due to multiple reasons, they were marveling at you after taking your vital signs and range of motion.

Miguel reaches and pulls you to him.  He brushes his thumb on your lip, his eyes following his movements carefully.  “Yeah, she could use a glass of water.”  He slips his hand under the blanket to pull your arm and you are about to protest when he pinches your skin again but you choose to stay quiet as he did it gently.

“Is it tented?”  Ned asks while rolling a stress ball atop the table.

Miguel meets your eyes and returns your arm inside the blanket.  Your body goes hot when he flashes you his sharp canine as he grins.  “Nah, perfectly supple and elastic.”  The grin gets wider.  “We might need to check her temperature again though.  She’s running a bit warm.”

You are not stupid.  Theoretically, you know how the normal body responds to external stimuli.  Miguel holds back another smart comment when you harshly pull your arm from him, too flushed to even bite a retort back.

Ned and MJ watched the exchange with narrowed judging eyes.  Watching old people flirt made them a bit queasy.

The next minutes were spent with them telling you about the project and how Dr. Strange aligned your neurons.  You wanted to thank the man but they tell you that he has been busy for a week now, trying to ward off an intergalactic entity.  Miguel just had to roll his eyes at the mention of the Doctor’s name.  Him helping Peter almost break the multiverse was not appreciated by Miguel.

You walk around the apartment as you listen to them talk, mainly to Miguel now, as you let your hands wander on every object you can find, taking in every texture that you come across.

The carpet on your feet was a nice feeling and you are glad you refused the slippers that Ned kindly offered for you to wear.

You see a pile of old books on a corner and you bend down to swipe at the thin layer of dust sitting atop it.  You smile so brightly, seeing the mark your finger left.  Then you see the coat of dust on your finger tip, the dirt clinging to your skin didn’t feel pleasant at all.

Just in front of your 3D printer, you refuse to call it casket, lies the messy work table of Peter Parker.  You wander to it and you read the tiny sticky notes that are stuck on the wall in front of the desk.  Some are newly placed, some a bit older, their edges starting to peel off.

You tilt your head to the side as you realize that they’re a bunch of ideas for his suit upgrades. 

“What a clever kid.”  You whisper.  You smile when you see a tiny error on a formula, creating a cascade of errors on the other notes.

You grab a sticky note and you uncap a ballpen, it took you a while to figure out how to hold it and your handwriting was messy but you managed to correct his error.

The bubble wrap in the corner became the next center of your attention.

Miguel was in the middle of telling the teens about your code when you wander on the couch again.  He glances at you for a while and goes back to ignoring you when you place a hand on his enormous arm and rub.  He really bulked up, didn’t he?

“Unstable molecules feel weird.”  You wiggle your fingers right in front of Miguel’s face, cutting his geek talk.  “Feels like this.”

He raises a brow.  “Tingly?”  He retracts the fabric from his fingertips and lets it rest on his suit.  “Huh, guess so.  But it’s quite comfortable inside.”

You nod and make a beeline towards the dining table where the teens are.

“Can I?”  You ask while pointing to MJ’s sleeve.

“Sure.”  She shrugs and offers you her arm as she turns to listen to Miguel trying to explain advanced computer science to them.

You pinch the fabric and smile at the softness of it.

“What’s this material called?  I want to wear it everyday, it feels so cozy.”

“It’s uh, cashmere.  Pe-Peter got it for me last Christmas.”  She briefly points at Peter before using the same hand to cover a cough.

You glance at Peter, who was also listening to Miguel, though his ears looked a bit redder, you can tell despite the dimness of the room.

Ned soon notices you looking at the stress ball resting a couple inches away from his fingers.

“You wanna hold it?”  He offers you the toy.

“That’s a stress ball, right?”  You take it and squeeze hard.  “What’s so relaxing about this?”  You raise a brow as the toy only strained your hand.

“You’re just not stressed enough to need it yet.”  Miguel sighs.  He knows that your muscles would need endurance training but of course he had to taunt you just a bit.

You sassily put a hand on your hip, making a big deal out of everything that Miguel says is almost a habit to you.  “And you probably need a truckload of this judging by how you look.”

The kids near you almost scratched the table cloth with their hands that are resting on it by how hard they were trying to keep a straight face.

They mustn’t laugh.  Peter can’t lose his place in the Society.  Peter can’t lose his place in the Society!

A knock from the front door keeps Miguel from throwing something just as insulting to you.

“I’ll get it!”  Peter volunteers, too happy with the opportunity to get away.

Miguel grumbles to himself, shaking his head.

You smile a little too sweetly at Miguel before turning to Peter who is carrying a bunch of plastic bags that are all hanging on different fingers instead of being all carried by a finger or two, like how they should be?

“Whatever is in those boxes, I want them.”  You laugh.

Ned gets up to grab a clean spoon for you, seeing as you won’t be able to use the chopstick just yet.

“I don’t know if you’d like this but I figured that you’d need the carbs and manageable food for now.”  Peter says, scratching the back of his head and pushes a steaming hot bowl of congee to you. 

“Thank you, Peter.”  It smells divine!  And you appreciate the soft food, you should give your stomach something easy to digest for the meantime.

Your curiosity is piqued and you open a box before you.  “Oh, look at this, Miggy.”  You turn to Miguel who is already heading to where you are standing.  “Fried rice.”  You thank Ned when he hands you a spoon.  “You used to make this when you were particularly lazy.” 

He hums.  “I don’t cook anymore.”

Peter asks you two to join them at the table and you do.

“They didn’t have empanadas- uh…I heard you liked them!”  Peter starts to sweat under Miguel’s stern gaze.  “But uh, they have fried dumplings.  In-in case you wanna try some.”  He pushes the box to Miguel.

You scoop a spoonful of congee to your mouth, after being reminded by Miguel to blow on your food.  You hated how he made you feel like a toddler just now.  But you forget that you were pissed just a second ago when the rice porridge lands on your waiting tongue and you almost melt at the flavor.  In fact, it looks like you actually are.  They all watch you close your eyes, still chewing, and collapse on the chair dramatically.

“It’s so unfair that you all get to eat these for years, especially Miguel.”  You pat Miguel’s shoulder when he curses at you in Spanish.  “It’s okay, Miggy.  You aged like fine wine, don’t get worked up.”

You take another spoonful, ignoring Miguel’s incomprehensible expression.

The night ends with you listening to Peter trying to explain or defend himself from Miguel’s accusations for the whole multiverse disturbance thing. 

You were biased, of course.

It is pretty normal to take his side.  Peter’s side.

But nevertheless, you and Miguel thanked the three of them, even Dr. Strange.  Through a portal.  Made of magic.  Wasn’t weird at all.

When Miguel told them that he’ll be taking you with him to the HQ, they didn’t really go against it, a knowing smile plastered on their faces when Miguel says that the tech there is better in monitoring your state.

“I will definitely visit.”  You say as you release MJ from your embrace and move to hug Ned who is tearing up a bit.  “I’ll come so often that you’ll be sick of me.” 

Lastly, there’s Peter.  You hug the kid tightly.  “Thank you for taking the time to bring me back to him.”

He hugs you back, just as tight.  “I should be the one thanking you.”  He could only wish that Tony was there to witness everything.

“He’s proud of you, I just know it.” 

You return to Miguel’s side and you smile at them one last time before turning to step into the portal.

“Wait!”  Peter yells.

Miguel raises a brow at him, his large hand encasing yours in a gentle hold.

“Uhm.”  Peter’s eyes darted from you to Miguel and back again.

“Spit it out, kid.”  Miguel snaps.

Peter crosses his arms, awkwardly.

“I know you two are-are excited and y-you miss each other so much.”  He stutters out.  “But it’s probably not a good idea to—” He grimaces, as if saying it is physically hurting him.  “—you know.” 

His hands flew everywhere, making you and Miguel look at each other, silently asking if the other is picking up what the hell the kid’s saying. 

Peter sighs, defeated.  “You shouldn’t…test her body’s limitations in one night-”

“Yeah, we get it.”  Miguel says quickly while he pushes your confused ass to the portal.

Project: Galatea • Project: Pandora • Project: Eros

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman across the spider verse #atsv #project: galatea

[mrs-gauche]

If the Spirit!Solas theory happens to be true—and I’m confident it is—then it really gives you a new level of respect for how much restraint this guy has.

I’m talking specifically about his interactions with Dorian. The part where Dorian is trying to convince Solas that enslaving spirits is cool and neat and not wrong because ‘spirits aren’t people.’

Imagine having the strength of character to listen to someone tell you to your face that you are not a person and therefore undeserving of the most basic civil rights without immediately decking them in the face.

Solas puts up with tool much, man.

Oh yeah, definitely! 😂 (As much as I feel for Dorian just trying to find some common ground...) I guess that one line in Tevinter Nights does a great job of putting Solas' attitude on this matter in a nutshell.

[…] roared not in anger, but with quiet contempt. "From this moment, should you ever bind a spirit, then your life is mine."

Keep in mind, Solas has witnessed spirits suffering from the consequences of creating the Veil for at least a thousand years at this point, if only from the Fade. When he's saying "It hurts. It always does." to the Inquisitor after returning to Skyhold and Wisdom's death, he's referring to the countless times he had to watch his friends being drawn to the waking world, either forced, or to see them “wish to join the living”, only to be twisted, bound, corrupted, killed, you name it.

"How small the pain of one man seems when weighed against the endless depths of memory, of feeling, of existence. That ocean carries everyone. And those of us who learn to see its currents move through life with their fewer ripples."

Much like a lot of his banter with Sera taunting him about his grief for the past, at this point, Solas is so old and has witnessed so much history, so much pain, that Dorian's remarks couldn't possibly evoke any real anger from him. It's so insignificant compared to what he has seen. There's a reason why Weekes keeps emphasizing how friggin tired Solas truly is. This is after all the general perception of spirits in present Thedas, aside from a few cultures like the Avvar. He can't blame Dorian for Tevinter raising him to think of spirits as nothing more than "amorphous constructs", just like he can't blame the Dalish for the knowledge lost to time. Similarly to any other argument he has with the other companions, Solas' frustration/resentment is almost never aimed at them personally, but rather at the current state of the world that shaped their perspective. (As is also evident in how his banter always ends up with them eventually coming to terms and grow a mutual/respectful relationship. The only exception being a low approval Inquisitor and Iron Bull if he chose the Qun over the Chargers… In that case, the hostility was definitely personal. 😂)

(That being said, I'm SO hoping for any kind of serious emotional outbreak from Solas in DA4, since there's still like a thousand year old trauma that needs to be addressed. lol)

But yeah, I think, going by his actions in Tevinter Nights, Tevinter is definitely not ready for what's probably coming for them in DA4, now that Solas is actually able to change things. 👀 And isn't it interesting how he will now be facing the Imperium, which was essentially built on the ruins of the empire he brought down/the same slavery based system he once rebelled against, so history kinda repeats itself? lol

I think it's also very telling how Solas will immediately counter Dorian's comments on the treatment of spirits in Tevinter by directly comparing it to slavery.

Dorian: "There's no harm putting them to constructive use, and most mages back home treat them well." Solas: "And any that show any magical talent are freed, are they not?" Dorian: "What? Spirits don't have magical talent." Solas: "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were talking about your slaves."

But the beautiful irony in this, as I've talked about in this post, is how this draws a direct parallel to how Solas, in return, doesn't recognize the people of the waking world as real either, at least not until after the Inquisitor considers Wisdom a living being worth saving. This and his admission to the Inquisitor after he returns to Skyhold is imo the turning point in his character development. Imo, this is what leads him to say "Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong." in his high approval ending in Trespasser.

And this is also why I think that the theory of Solas intending to save the spirits first and foremost would make for such an interesting story actually.

The waking world doesn't view spirits as real people. Just like Solas can't accept the people of the waking world as real. So, what will happen if he tears down the Veil, and the Fade and the waking world become one again? The Inquisitor was potentially willing to save Wisdom despite it having already turned into a Pride demon. And in doing so, the Inquisitor unintentionally put up a mirror in front of Solas' face and basically went "If I can see them as real people worth saving, why can't you?".

And if the spirit origin theory is true, then it could make for a fascinating inner conflict. Solas, living in both the waking world and the Fade, having been a spirit and a corporeal person, is now facing the question of who "his people" actually are. Where does he belong? After all, his biggest fear remains to "die alone".

While this was said in more of a joking manner, Weekes' words from 2016 really put it into perspective here. Solas sees himself in that old fisherman he saw in the Fade. He is "the one who lived". So, I picture it like this… Solas is left alone in the Fade after the creation of the Veil. Spirits are now his only company for the next thousand years. Whether or not those spirits were the remaining souls of the elves he tried to save, we don't know, but regardless, I truly believe they are his people. But he is not a spirit. At least, not anymore.

Cole: "You don't need to envy me, Solas. You can find happiness in your own way." Solas: "I apologize for disturbing you, Cole. I am not a spirit and sometimes it hard to remember such simple truths." Cole: "They are not gone so long as you remember them." Solas: "I know." Cole: "But you could let them go." Solas: "I know that as well." Cole: "You didn't do it to be right. You did it to save them." Inquisitor: "Solas, what is Cole talking about?" Solas: "A mistake. One of many by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything."

In this banter, Cole reveals to us that Solas' mind immediately goes from "It's hard for me to accept I'm not a spirit" to "the people that were lost when Solas created the Veil". To me, this pretty much confirms that the people of Elvhenan and spirits are connected, if not one and the same. It's assumed that the Evanuris mined the Titans to somehow create bodies for spirits to inhabit, and that Mythal gave Solas a body against his will. There's also the theory about the creation of the Veil having caused the separation of body and spirit.

You know, I've written so much about this in previous posts and I don't want to sound like a broken record, but if we consider all those little clues and look at all of his dialogue in that context, it just makes so much sense to me, that what he wants to do is primarily to save the spirits/destroy the barrier for them to enter the waking world without their purpose getting corrupted. There's also still the matter of the Blights and red lyrium otherwise probably consuming the entire world. 😅 I think that's what he's referring to when saying "What I am doing will save this world" in Tevinter Nights.

And remember, "Dread Wolf" is still literally an anagram for "World" and "Fade". 😂 Both worlds colliding is quite literally in his title. lol Whatever the six eyed high dragon sized Dread Wolf actually is, as far as we know, he only seems to exist within the Fade, but how exactly is he connected to Solas and what will happen to him if he tears down the Veil (which btw is also definitely gonna happen… I mean, besides the fact that the Veil is getting weaker regardless of Solas' actions)? ANYWAY.

Sorry for rambling so much (and I feel like my English is a little rusty, too 😖), but I haven't talked about this stuff in a while and the lack of news is killing me. 😂 But your message gave me something to think about again, so thank you! :)

#oh no this got so long again 😖 #solas #also again Bioware I beg you please give us that ''Solas calling his spirit army and charging into battle'' moment from TN 👀 #tinfoil time #da4 #''Spirit self. Seeing the soul. Solas. But somehow sorrows.'' #watch us play DA4 one day and none of this turn out to be true 😂 #but I'm gonna die on that hill lol

[eatmangoesnekkid]

I want to be pristinely clear that while "The Melody of Love" critiques patriarchy, it doesn't promote the war or tension between sexes, this deep soul wounding, or encourage the de-centering of men. While I understand what women who participate in this movement are trying to do and I agree that there is a dire need for women to stop obsessing over men and generally become priorities in their lives, when you listen to those who promote this movement, there is a haunting hollowness of hidden, unaddressed hurt and pain at the root.

That's why the "de-centering men" movement would never be part of my mission. Far from it. I like to get to the root of the reality—which is deep in the body and not out there. And yes, you should be at the center of your reality, at the center of your universe, the "de-centering men" movement puts a wedge between men and women, instead of bringing us all together, including non-binary people. As usual, I find myself not being part of typical polarized ways of thinking, and more present in a nuanced 3rd lane which has been the case for most of my life. When the handy man comes over to work on my home, if I'm in that movement, I would not consider giving him some tea, juice, or water to quench his thirst. While this gesture from me is not necessary, it does show kindness to someone who enters your home and will feel thought of and move around your space with good vibes due to your hospitality. Such beautiful energy shared between two people and emitted out into an aching world.

Through my critiques, I am making a much larger point about the level of harm these systems-patriarchy, capitalism, and Abrahamic religion do to us because they live in our bodies. They cause breast pain, pelvic pain, back pain, pussy pain, period pain, blood clots, cysts, tumors, and the like. These systems ferment like sauerkraut into our breasts/hearts, hips, bellies, tailbones, and spines and impact our wellness like our moon cycles and experiences with menopause. They negatively influence how we breathe, how we think and perceive, how we make love, how we regenerate, the care and attention we cook a meal, and what we receive and attract. They trigger us to value production over getting a good quality of rest and not staying up late at night. These punitive systems do the work of keeping our nervous systems locked into flight or fight and survival states on a daily basis. Only healthy relaxed women engage the most openhearted passionate love and yield healthy families and healthy communities/villages.

But I don't just critique like an academic. I am rootsy, braless, barefoot, and revolutionary to my core, therefore, I channel practical solutions that lead readers towards healing their bodies and truly evolving their lives into bliss.

The melody of love movement is about deep spiritual repair and care: the strength and capacity of love, the truth of our soul and destiny, the intimacies and passion of the body meeting earth, and the regenerative qualities of the female body and how they favorably impact her quality of well-being and abundance. Essentially my work brings your body into a state of love that allows you to masterfully maneuver beyond these wicked systems as an embodiment of love, one of the highest frequency, a reclamation of your original sovereign template that taps you into the inexhaustible reservoir of energy that lives inside your female body, this spark of creation. After we build up our energy and increase our capacity, it is my vision that we will then lend our bodies over to being of service to something larger that favorably recalibrates our global world into greater harmony.

There is actually a deep yearning present inside my own heart to witness more men truly rise into a more healthy honorable expression of themselves on the planet. To de-center men, no matter what your sexuality may be, yields great harm to the feminine heart. I’m not sorry to say this but-- a real woman could never do that. She would die sorrowful...deeply heartbroken. -India Ame'ye, Author

[guess-my-next-obsession]

relax

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: talk of painful menstruation (i’m a pcos girlie and these are my personal symptoms/levels of pain—everyone menstruates differently), din being a worrisome little lad like always

word count: 1.4k

a/n: this is just me living vicariously through reader since i am on my stupid ass cycle and had to fix my leaking air conditioning unit today

You were not one to wait around for a man to do something for you, especially when you were more than capable of doing it yourself.

The cooling system for the Crest had been leaking water for days now, coinciding with the start of this month’s cycle—meaning, you were more than fed up. Din had been out everyday trying to hunt his latest bounty, an illusive one it seemed given Din’s struggle. By the time he got home in the evenings, he was either exhausted, sore, or frustrated—all of which causing him to neglect the leak.

You knew he had his plate full between hunting this bounty, providing for you and the kid, giving the two of you enough attention when he was home, and having to deal with your period symptoms—you may have had a tendency to be a bit snappy with him during your time of the month. So, while Din was out at work, you forced yourself out of bed and onto your feet, your uterus suddenly punishing you for the choice as your lower belly clenched with a pain you could only describe as unbearable.

Still, you were a determined young lady, and you were going to fix this all on your own.

Dragging one of Din’s storage crates over, you slid it right in front of the system, stepping onto it so that you were eye level with the machinery. Your hands used an assortment of Din’s tools to take the face off the cooler, tugging it off and lowering it down to the floor. As you moved to stand up, a contraction-like cramp struck you, causing you to squat down on the crate, your body nearly doubling over and forcing you to the hard durasteel floor of the cargo hold.

“Fuck,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut as your hands held your stomach, hoping the warmth of your palms would soothe the tension.

After a few moments, the pain dwindled back down into just a dull ache, allowing you the ability to finally stand again. Your head spun as you stood up quickly, hands pressing against the wall in front of you, it’s cold steel doing wonders for your overheated flesh.

Gathering your wits, you went back to work with the system, cleaning out the clogged drain until the leak had gone away completely. A proud smile grew on your face as you looked at the results of your handiwork, but it was soon interrupted by another stabbing cramp.

“Oh my god.” You whined again, tears falling down your cheeks as you winced. You lowered yourself into a squat on the crate again, this time struggling to stay upright as the pain kept squeezing and squeezing.

“Finally did it.” Din walked into the ship via the ramp, his bounty handcuffed beside him. When he saw you doubled over on the crate, crying and panting in absolute anguish, he didn’t think twice. He pushed the bounty into the carbonite freezer, not caring much about whether or not the bounty deserved it. He lunged towards you and kneeled by the crate, his hand rubbing your back as the other stroked your sweaty face. “Mesh’la, what happened?”

“Cramps,” you croaked, the cramp finally beginning to fade away as you now laid in the fetal position on the crate, Din’s gloved hand stroking sweat covered locks of hair out of your face. “But at least I fixed the cooler.”

“My sweet angel,” he wanted to chuckle at your sheer determination, knowing well by now just how out of service you become during your time of the month. Then, he suddenly felt terribly guilty as he realized that you were only on your feet doing this because he hadn’t. “I should’ve fixed it three days ago when you mentioned it. You should be in bed, relaxing…not tinkering away on your feet.”

“Well, I knew you had a lot on your shoulders, and I knew how to fix it, so…thought it wouldn’t be too bad.” You finally opened your eyes, looking into the black of his visor, your hand trembling in exhaustion as you reach to touch the cold beskar of his helm with your palm. He leaned into your touch, thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “Can you help me back to bed?”

“Of course,” he stood up, holding his hand out for you as you reached for him, using his body for stability as you climbed off the crate and onto your feet. Din’s arm held your waist as he walked you back to the bunk, Grogu passed out in his sling. “Surprised the kid didn’t wake up to use his powers on you.”

“Why do you think he’s still passed out? He kept doing it all morning. Poor little guy,” you rested your body back against the mattress, tugging your blankets over your form now that the ship was properly beginning to cool.

Din sat at the edge of the cot and took his helmet off, shaking out his half-damp hair before moving to take off his armor, flight suit, and gloves. Before you knew it, he was curling up behind you, his big, warm hands spread out over your lower stomach that was swollen with a painful bloat. He kissed your shoulder and felt you cuddled back against him even further, humming in appreciation for the relief his hands brought.

“You caught the bounty,” you finally spoke after ten minutes of relishing in his soothing presence. Din chuckled against the shell of your ear and nodded, kissing your hairline. “How’d you finally do it?”

“Carefully.” He mumbled before leaving another tickling kiss to your skin. “I hired a lady to flirt with him and get him drunk at the cantina. It’s surprising how easily men get distracted when a woman’s involved.”

“You say it as though it’s a revelation.” You joked, turning a bit so that you were on your back, Din’s body still resting on his side and looking down at you. He smiled at you softly, eyes taking in your every feature. You were completely natural today, not an ounce of makeup on your face, your hair not even brushed. Still, even with your flushed cheeks and sweaty hair, you looked like an angel to him. He leaned in to press a slow, tender kiss to your lips, full of affection and care.

“I know you’re the best mechanic on this ship, but please remember to take it easy. Your body’s working overtime right now. No more tinkering away unless I’m here to catch you when you fall.” He ordered, full of concern and care for your well being. You nodded, grinning at him as you combed your fingers through his messy head of curls. You hadn’t seen him helmetless since the night previous, and although it had only been about a day since, it was too long. “Are you listening to me or checking me out?”

“Both.” He chuckled at your honesty, leaning down and pecking you once more before briefly leaving you. You pouted at the sudden chill at the loss of his hands on your stomach, the pain slowly creeping back to you. Din locked up the ship and the carbonite bounty, making sure everything was secure for the night before coming back to the bunk. He pressed the button to close the door, then flicked off the light, climbing back behind you and hugging you tight once again. “Can you keep your hands on my stomach for a while? It kept the cramps at bay.”

“Of course, mesh’la.” He kissed your shoulder before nuzzling his head against yours, the two of you getting cozy in preparations for a good night’s rest. “You know…there’s a way we could put a stop to this whole ordeal for a while…”

“Din,” you chuckled and shook your head. “Isn’t one baby enough for you?”

“Grogu would love a little pal.” He defended with a smile, his voice turning into mumbles as sleep began to overtake him. You grinned to yourself and allowed sleep to wash over you as well, keeping the fact that the thought of having his child made your heart swell twice it’s size in your chest to yourself for tonight. “Y/N?”

You were almost asleep when you heard him whisper in your ear. “Yeah, baby?”

“I love you. Just realized I haven’t said it today.” A sleep-laced chuckle left your lips, a goofy grin spread across your face.

“I love you, Din. Now, I think it’s my turn to tell you to relax.” He chuckled and nodded. “Let’s get some rest.”

“Goodnight, angel.” He rasped, kissing your head. You nuzzled into the pillow and hummed contently, your hand resting over his on your stomach.

“Goodnight, my love.”

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#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fluff #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin #mando fluff #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal fic

[official-saul-goodman]

hunger games posts gave me Thoughts i wanted to share so uhhh hiiiii local friend who studies literature and it’s place/function within society here with a comment. stories and writing (even though this p much goes without stating) have always been modes of entertainment and education and much more, we humans love our mediums. i think the biggest issues with the hunger games bullshit is people have begun to treat it like it’s a meme to just make the comment about it and leave it behind without using genuine critical thinking skills. it’s been going on for months and it’s starting to water down focus on what’s happening in favor of talking about fiction. i think the fiction shouldn’t be getting this in the way of the discussion of what’s REALLY happening. if it helps to click in younger minds that what their country is doing is wrong, that can be a positive, but fully grown adults repeating it like it’s a joke feels abysmal. like they’ve missed the point somehow.

i don’t know if this makes sense but summary is: literature as a tool for understanding the world = important especially for kids, but, constantly talking about the literature ONLY and not what it actually reflected of the world you live in/treating the real world thing with the same level of respect as the fiction = missing the point and making real issues into what feels like fandom talking points. i don’t think it should take a book or movie series for the average adult to understand horrors of violence on the scale we are witnessing and i definitely don’t think that they need to use that as the only frame of understanding what’s happening.

anyways hope that made sense and also to others who might be reading this…. the moment something fictional clicks you into something really happening, try to understand the real world through the real world information you can find, not a novel. any novel. go learn real history. as much as possible do not distance yourself from the worlds pain with a wall of fictionalization, engage with the world like you actually live in it and like life matters to you. even i engaged with people pointing out comparisons once or twice, months ago when they started, but i have not sat and made that all i will talk about, and certainly not to the point i’m not even keeping up with what’s //really// happening in rafah right now. especially not in favor of all the soulless “ooogh omg guys the capitol is real???” jokes i keep seeing from ppl talking about the kentucky derby.

this turned into a micro-hate rant about western europeans / US citizens thinking it’s some brain blast enlightenment to point out a dystopian novel about the US is a dystopian novel about the US. from fully grown adults it’s almost embarrassing, there is real life suffering happening and you need to talk about it like it’s real not like it’s a fucking story. it is baffling

Exactly like fiction can be a tool to help initial understanding of subjects especially for young people but when we're talking about current genocides and invasions going on people really need to learn to pull their socks up and behave like adults with sense. It's so insulting and dehumanising to the people of Palestine to be compared to some fictional group of ppl from some district in a book written by a lady whose father was a fucking Veteran.

It's so immature and stupid and so intentionally obtuse and unserious. It's cruel and selfish and totally just being done to be self congratulatory like ' haha look at me i made this connection between fiction and reality I'm so cool and special' like SHUT THE FUCK UP.

#ask #mutual #tautozhone #hi peej

[fallout4-reacts]

how would companions react to sole who still sees feral ghouls as human, giving them names, knitting them hats, etc, and somehow managing to just casually 'hang out' with them?

Phew, I ended up having time to take care of it. I’m sorry about the delay, but I had a lot of stuff to deal with IRL so uh… I hope you’ll like it

I admit that I put the reactions (accept it or not) at random, knowing that in the game, the acceptance of the bullshit that Sole can do depends entirely on the level of affinity (except when we talk about atrocities in some cases, and still…)

Note : Aaaaaaaah I just realise it was Lucy who was killed by ghouls, Deacon's wife was by his former gang.... .... how could I'll be so out of track... sorry

But to be honest I'm actually working on a hard ask and I will not change anything

Maybe later if really it's bother someone

Cait : She sees a swarm of ghouls approaching Sole and knows exactly what to do. She grabs her baseball bat with both hands and swings as hard as she can at the first skull that comes her way. The person who hauled her out of the cage starts screaming hysterically.

"No way, Cait! Don't harm Ralf! He's only bringing me some ammunition because he saw a deathclaw nearby and wants to protect me."

Bat halfway through the air, Cait glances at Sole like they're some kind of alien.

"You're right now fucking with me. This ghoul is chomping on your arm."

"At all! It's his way of saying hello! If you want, a swap."

"However, he trades a piece of your flesh for a purulent scar."

"Aaaah. It's because I'm mistaken. It's Edith, not Ralf. She's having difficulties holding back, you know?"

"What about those?"

"They also have a hard time holding back."

"I'm not the brightest person on the circuit, but I recognise a feral attack when I see one. They'll bleed you to death."

"No, they just like small bites."

Cait tosses her bat to the ground and walks away.

"I don't even want to be a part of it. Tommy is better than any Fred or Edith."

"Ralf-ouch!"

Codsworth : "Uh, madam/sir, I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"Come on, Codsworth, Mr. Trellaway, adoooooore your tea. Please do more."

"But what will Mr. Preston say when he finds, uh... Mr. Trellaway in the living room?"

The poor robot is at a loss for words. Indeed, the ghoule does not appear very hostile; he is busy gnawing on the leather strap that Sole gave him to chew on, but the companions have undoubtedly warned him of the dangers of a ghoul going feral. He can't help but think his master/mistress is a little... naive in their approach to the predator.

"Preston may chomp while discovering our guest, but I promised him your famous tea, and he will have it!"

Codsworth, a little frightened, lights the kettle on fire. He hears a stifled pain scream in the brief moment when at least one of his three sensors is not on Sole.

"Mr. Trellaway, please! That is beneath you!"

The poor robot then worries if the radiation did not eventually overcome his master/mistress' intelligence.

Curie : Curie can't help but be astonished. She can't fight with Sole on this one any longer. Still, it was a dangerous decision. She follows Sole and their new companion to the Red Rocket.

"Farkesh" 

"I'll be honest with you, Farkesh; I still haven't figured out what Strong means by this stuff, but if it rings any bells," Sole shrugs their shoulders as if it were a minor detail. The ghoul next to them appears irritated.

"Farkesh!"

"There's no doubt about that, Farkesh. Oh! Look! Other friends! Are we going to greet them?"

Curie suppresses a shiver of horror as she witnesses the base being overrun by super-mutants.

"S-s-s-Sole, I don't think you should make more than one friend at a time; that's disrespectful to Farkesh!"

Sole appears to stop and think, then shrugs again.

"You are correct. Anyway, I can't wait to show this one to Strong! He'll be less lonely."

As they walk away, the poor synthetic sighs with relief. She truly wonders how Sole has survived so long in such a state of denial, but every day suffices is irradiated.

Danse (Post-BB) : "This is regarded as insubordination!"

"This is an act of inhumanity on your part!"

"It is precisely humanity's duty to put an end to their suffering!"

"Who says they are suffering?"

"These are creatures with tortured brains!"

"So they're not that different from you!"

Danse's eyes widen in surprise at the insult... That's a touch too close to the mark. He scowls again, taking off the whisky bottle (now empty on the ground) that Sole had given them.

"And they're not attacking you?"

"What would make them attack me? They attack to defend themselves against fools like you who forget they're people."

The blow is delivered once more with force. Danse has to recognise that, for his part, he is not human. He groans as he lowers its head.

"You just squandered a decent bottle of whisky," he grumbles through his beard.

"They have fun, so nothing is wasted."

Danse sighs and crashes on a trunk near one of the ghouls with particularly unpleasant breath.

"This one should brush his teeth more often."

Deacon : "WOH!"

What else is there to say? Deacon enters the barracks and finds Sole engaged in a conversation with three ghouls (who are snarling) over a pair of needles and balls of yarn. To say he was not anticipating it would be an understatement.

"What?!"

"No, no, no!" says Sole.

One of the clawed hands is slapped by Sole.

"It has a loop on it and one on the bottom. Not..." They scrape the previously completed work in a motion reminiscent of the hideous creature. "Do you want to wear this hat or not?"

"Grmgkmomrf"

"I...this is a bad time?" Deacon then inquires, having recovered from his surprise.

"Not at all," his pal responds, smiling. "Would you like to learn to knit as well?"

The Railway agent shifts his gaze from one ghoul to the next, attempting to overlook the numerous scratches and bites on Sole's arms and face.

"I'll pass; I'm already an excellent knitter.  Did I ever tell you about the occasion when I knitted an illusory brick wall to protect Glory and me from Courser's troops? I crocheted so quickly and so forcefully that the wall became permanent."

Sole is overjoyed. Knowing how Barbara died, they had honestly assumed that Deacon would be the one of their companions who would reject their vision of their irradiated friends the most, but he appears to have underestimated him. In reality, Deacon is not so bitter. He blames himself for failing to defend Barbara, but Sole who can befriend a ghouli? There will be plenty of stories to tell at HQ.

Dogmeat : Cocking his head to the side, Dogmeat looks at his new companion with interest, but as he comes to sniff him, the being that act like a human but has a peculiar demeanor growls like an animal. Dogmeat retreating and whine.

"Come on, my good boy," his master encourages. "Jerome has a dog allergy, but he will not harm you."

When his owner reprimands him, Dogmeat goes even further, his tail between his legs. He prefers not to offend his beloved master, but if the new human-strange continues to bite his master, Dogmeat will show him who has the biggest fangs.

Elder Maxson : Shoot on the spot. Every time Maxson kills one of their new pals, Sole moans for days about it, but Maxson doesn't give a damn about their complaints.

"The guidelines are very clear, and the abominations must be carried out."

"You decide how things work!"

"I sometimes doubt your common sense."

"If you can't respect my guests, then you should stay on your ship!"

"These-are-abominations!"

"Have you taken a look at yourself in the mirror lately?"

"DISMISS!"

If sole insists, they will end up at the Cambridge Prison.

Hancock : When it's his turn, he snatches the bottle of whisky from the other ghouls. There is not even a drop remaining. These other ghouls are completely devoid of common sense. Handock groans and then draws an inhaler of Jet.

"So, Freddy, how did Sole meet you?"

In his efforts to get the most out of this wild evening, he pays no attention to the quarrel that is going on between Danse and Sole. When Danse is compelled to lie down among them after being defeated, Sole brings out a fresh bottle of their renowned whisky, and Hancock makes it a point to be the first one to get his hands on it.

Gage : Take aim and fire. As Sole crashes on him, they grabs his arm to prevent another shoot.

“MARLEY! HOW DARE YOU!”

“What? Boss? You may have taken in too much of this gas, I fear.

"When Oswald took a short break, I supervised Marley. How am I going to explain that?”

"It was a ghoul!"

"He was my friend!"

For a while, Porter observes the motionless walking corpse with extreme caution.

"I strongly disapprove of this...distraction."

"So, you want me to secure the park, okay, but how was Marley threatening you?"

"That thing looks like a feral ghoul!"

"He didn't harm you at all! He was not as dangerous as Nisha!

Even as Porter tries to deny it, he has to admit that they're probably right, but he can't just abandon the ghoul-infested section of the park, right?

"This park is mine! I’m the Overboss and I do what I want!”

"And who nominated you?"

"The one who just robbed me of the most incredible mutfruit pie recipe in the Commonwealth by murdering the chef who created it."

"I'll show you what you should do with a mutfruit."

But Porter doesn't get the chance for a while, because Sole mopes around for weeks after the "murder" and doesn't want to talk to him. Sole no longer causes problems inside Nuka-World after Oswald and his companions decide to leave the park, although Porter also chooses to skip over the occasional story Shank gives him about wild nights in some Commonwealth bauge.

MacCready : No. No, seriously. MacCready comes at the boathouse, finds the three ghouls relaxing happily with Sole around a chess game (which appears to be a real piece toss), then turns his back on the scene and leaves. With this new employment, he's seen green ones and ripe ones, but truly, companion of feral ghouls? And how will he acquire his son's meds if...wait a minute. He opens the door and peers into the place.

"Can you be friends with any ghoule?"

"First and foremost, Mac, they are human beings."

"We can talk about it later, but... hm... are you interested in doing something for me?"

Nick Valentine : "Be careful," he provides Sole as they pass into the Fens. "There are a lot of wild ghouls around."

"Are you referring to Jerry and his gang? They enjoy a good laugh now and then, but their jokes are never too serious."

"Please excuse me?"

Valentine turns to Sole, as he is unsure whether or not his hearing sensor picked up the correct information.

"Miska, Jerry, Samuel, and Prince. They're on the next street over. They occasionally take an arm or two or a few arrogant stiffs, but it's nothing to worry about. They're merely pranksters."

Nick rubs his chin, pondering the new one. He'd seen his fair share of fools in the corner, but this one appears to be an outlier.

"You know what a feral is?"

"A human whose brain radiation makes oral communication very difficult."

"It's... a way of putting things. However, it's not only spoken communication that is challenging."

"Yes, I know, they have bad coordination, but have you ever seen Paul Pembrooke after a night of partying at the Dugout?"

“Currently…yes.”

"Same shit."

"Let me, haha...understand. For you, a feral is a human who is horrible cook?"

“Isn’t that it?”

Nick sighs and shrugs his shoulders. This poor vaultie will have plenty of time to realise their error. In the meantime, he can't wait to get to his office in Diamond City and forget about Malone altogether.

Piper : "Hehe, Charlie! Yes! Yes, fantastic!"

Piper takes a hesitant step back towards the door, determined to leave the house without losing a single piece. Sole looks up at her, happily smiling.

"He does, and he enjoys your articles! He's also a talented poet; do you want to see his latest work?"

While the monster quietly chews a baseball, the journalist swallows slowly, her gaze fixed on the ghoul.

"You know what? You'll deliver all of this to me at the Puclick Occurrency. I'll gladly read them, and I'll even offer you some old newspapers to give to your friend. But I...really need to get going. I have... a friend on fire, and, oh..."

"A friend on fire? Piper, you're so funny."

"Yes, eheh," Piper chuckles. "I am a true clown. It's all me! Anyway, bye!"

She rushes out of there without looking back, only to run into a frightened Preston in the street.

"Hey, Garvey!"

"Piper."

"Did you... come to see Sole?"

"I...think she already has a...guest."

"Eh, indeed."

"Truly, truly..."

Piper approaches, peering over her shoulder.

"Do you think... something burned on the balcony?"

The Minutemen sigh deeply, letting go of the mask.

"I think the entire attic turned to dust."

Preston : "General, I've heard of..."

When he sees Sole seated on their couch, sharing a plate of Fancy Lads Snack Cake over a cup of tea with... a ghoule whose pieces aren't even in position to savour the taste of the miniature cookies, his voice dies on his lips. The colonel's sight passes Codsworth's visual sensor, who raises his appendages and brings two cups of tea into the living room.

"General?"

"Ah! Preston! Come on in! Come see Mr. Trellaway! I told him about some of our exploits, and he enjoyed them. I'm sure he'll be overjoyed if he hears from you."

The unfortunate man finds himself taking a step back.

"General, it's a feral!"

"Rah, insults and racism right away. Preston, you've surprised me. I'm a little disappointed. Get this poor Preston a cup of tea, Codsworth. We'll return some sanity to his mind."

Preston takes another step back, wondering whether it's Sole who needs to regain control of their own mind.

"I... no thanks. I'm going on my tour. But, uh... General, when your... visitor departs, please come and see me. A settlement requires assistance."

"But please sit down and tell me all about it!"

"No, don't be insistent. It's... Sturges calling!"

The colonel sprints outdoors, his heart racing. For the thousandth time in a month, he wonders what he was thinking when he was made Sole General.

Strong : "Puny human stupid."

"Strong!"

"Stupid rotten human. Puny human stupid. Strong goes"

"Strong, attentions!"

"Puny human want Strong hit them?"

"No… But hold on. You're disrespecting my guests."

The super-mutant growls at the few feral ghouls gathered around the fire before turning his heels. He will have to seek out the milk of human kindness on his own. A human who becomes friends with ferals will never be able to get close to it.

X6-88 : Shoot on sight. The Courser, although Sole arguing for hours, does not bend, respond, or comment. When Sole encounters another wild pack, X6 eliminates them all until Sole finishes saluting them. When Sole became enraged, X6 seized their arms and transferred them to the Institute.

"Father, your... parent has a difficult time differentiating between humans and dangerous entities. Before returning them to the surface, I strongly suggest that you submit them to a battery of medical exams."

Sole fights, debates, and tries everything, but after explanations, Shaun agrees with X6. They put them through so many tests that Sole has more time to think things through than he needs to. When they eventually get their leave, they swear not to hang out with X6 when they travel to see their buddies.

#fallout 4 companions #fallout 4 react #fallout 4 reactions #fo4 #fallout 4 #cait #curie #codsworth #danse #dogmeat #hancock #nick valentine #elder maxson #maccready #deacon #x6 88 #fallout

[les-gnossiennes-fantomatiques]

A little more of what I’m up to:

If I ever let you leave Mazanderan, Behrouz once said, wind rifling through his hair, you must promise me there will be no more reckless violence. No more death upon your hands. There is a worthy man somewhere inside of you. Make something good with him.

At first, Erik laughed—right in his little Daroga’s bonny face, blessings on its memory—at the impossibility of such a promise. A man composed of death from head-to-toe had a right to his natural trade; take a sailor off the water and he will stumble around terra firma on his sea legs, after all.

But as the decades began to creep up on his tenure in Paris, Erik was mildly pleased to learn that there was little difference between killing and making art; perhaps it was why it had become so easy to replace one with the other almost entirely, save for a necessary indulgence. Destroy a sheet of newsprint, or else smatter it with carmine lake, rich as blood. Squeeze the life from a metal tube of paint, grind a pencil into a useless stub, and watch them slowly crumple into uselessness before your eyes. To say nothing of how hanging or stretching out a canvas was a considerably tidier affair than hanging or stretching out a men. Canvas did not piss itself or beg for god, did not leave behind wailing widows or round-eyed children. You were its god. You, its lover. You, the one who remained behind to witness their legacy.

Besides, it is not the inherently good man who makes art, or so he told himself, whenever his past sins slinked up against his memory like a cat. Rather, it is the man searching for his own meaning who does.

And ashamed as he was to admit it, music seemed to only bring pain these days. For though his violin inevitably found its way into his hands on a regular basis, song always blew through him like wind, biting and fast-fleeting. Such was first love grown cold, or so the poets said. Yet despite his crimes, he was young enough to believe a part of him was still capable of creating some sliver of beauty. Architecture had returned to him naturally in this phase of life, yet the Opera was Garnier’s child, however much he might interfere and hassle the man otherwise. And at the end of the day, whatever else he designed on his own terms, he was still building worlds for other men to inhabit. Men who still could live in this one unmolested and admired, despite their transgressions.

Such were the hard truths to confront in trying to exist like those men, nevermind the nightmare of his face: that music was ingrained and inevitable, impossible to forget because of the way it had woven itself around the tragedy that was his existence. That destroying buildings required a level of violence which he told himself was no longer within him. But drawings—paintings—ah! They were like mirrors. Easily smashed, highly forgettable if you saw enough of them in this world. And every day, a new luminary rose amongst society, only to be forgotten amongst a fresh wave of other image-makers. Fair play, then. Let him be a creator and an iconoclast—it was a step above being a monster.

It was in keeping with this train of thought that he dragged himself to the Salon that spring of 1865, false nose in place, ready to brave the brunt of a Paris thirsty for meaning in this rare period of bucolic nothingness. He’d been out of the world for most of his life, yet never had Erik felt the longing to finally join it so keenly; it whispered, low and lovely, that such a world was only just slightly out of his reach. And why should he believe otherwise? He’d a beautiful home on a quiet street in Montparnasse, a small office staffed with a handful of spineless but otherwise competent yes men, and a contract to one of the most important projects the city had seen in decades—perhaps centuries. Barring his ugliness, he was almost a gentleman. And modern gentlemen, it was understood, were men of art.

All of the chatter around that season’s exhibition concerned Manet’s latest ode to Paris: a massive vignette depicting some lady of ill-repute and her maid, the former staring directly at the viewer like she was Venus herself and not some stunted, stubby-legged creature summoned from the depths of Pigalle; he laughed when first saw it, delighted in the fact that most people in the room were horrified enough by her presence to ignore his entirely—despite the fact that a million such women floated in and our of their lives as easily as the breeze. Despite the fact that such women fucked the attending husbands, enraged their poor wives, and spent the money that might have gone to their children or good names on whatever it took to survive and, perhaps, survive well.

From beneath the wide brim of his hat, Erik glanced around the gallery; he imagined spotting his darling Behrouz’s amused scandal, found himself hoping to spot a convivial smile, or some other scrap of kindred humanity. Something to tell him that he was not completely alone in the world as he always knew was, deep down.

That was how he first saw her: a tall camellia amongst withering irises, dressed from head to toe in black silk despite the delightful May weather. Beneath the little veil on her hat was a face worthy of Marianne—a straight, patrician nose; wide, almondine eyes; a mouth that looked as if it were sculpted for the sole purpose of indiscriminate, egalitarian kissing. But as beautiful as she was, it was the expression on her face that arrested him so. It was hard to describe, save for that it was something like a mixture of humiliation and proud understanding—the same emotion he felt as the crowds of Nizhny Novgorod showered him in gold in praise of his ugliness. Her spine remained ramrod straight all the while, despite the large man on her arm chortling and whispering something in her ear, the corner of her mouth downturning ever so slightly. Even as her chaperone walked away, she remained fixed in that position, save for the occasional nervous swipe of a gloved thumb over her parasol’s handle.

And somewhere, above the offended din of the masses, Erik heard a music he’d long forgotten—the awful thumping of his heart.

#the phantom of the opera #erik #gaston leroux #fan fic #original characters #pre-canon #art history au #i gotta use my art history degree for something #original character #erik x oc

[mcalhenwrites]

This might read a bit weird, since it was meant to be the ending author’s note on Seasons.

It does get a bit personal, so please be aware of that.

Okay, here goes:

Thank you for reading, especially if you finished Seasons. Thank you for liking my writing. Thank you for making me feel like it was at least worth something. I appreciate all the asks people sent on tumblr, too!

More than ever, comments would be appreciated on this final chapter. Even if it’s just emojis and such. :’)

Feel free to skip the rest of this author’s note if you wish. I just want to share some of my process with this story.

When I first started Seasons, I wanted to capture many painful feelings and events, as well as the exasperation of dealing with a never-ending, unpleasant cycle. This story isn’t merely a reflection of some of my own experiences; it includes things I’ve witnessed or complicated what-ifs. I already had a clear idea of Vivian in my head since summer of 2022, as I was finishing up another story called Rascal, and he was pieced together from previous ideas I’ve had over the years. Some other concepts were taken from a story I started in 2008, although the children were kidnapped to become part of the family. (Which would certainly add to some of the horror, but that’s not what I wanted for Seasons.)

I had a lot of vague story lines to work with. Some changed or were rejected. But the general idea was: What would it be like if—day in and day out, for centuries—you were living under the control of your parents? Would you be satisfied with a routine in a household you could never leave? Would you not wish for stimulation and relationships and new experiences?

It sounds incredibly monotonous. Hellish.

Immortality is always an intriguing subject to me. There’s so much to learn, so many books and video games I’ll never get to before I die. But there would be downsides, too. Especially if you’re trapped. Society’s ableism and increasing gap between the rich and the poor has left me trapped currently, and the years keep going. But mine will someday end. I fear I’ll never be able to get away from my family or afford a house or adopt cats by the time I run out of years.

Seasons expanded upon some of those thought trains about immortality. What if your growth is quashed, but you live a long time?

Also, regarding Bee: What if your parents are supportive of queer identities and are queer themselves, but you’ve been so abused that you still can’t trust them? Poor Bee never felt safe enough to approach the topic. (This isn’t why he uses he/him—he shrugs when people ask what his pronouns are and says they can use any pronouns, but he’ll use he/him and people often just adopt that. A lot of his personal journey and self-exploration happens after ch 89/before the epilogue.)

It was interesting to explore the atrocities of a perpetually abusive childhood. While Seasons is not a horror story, it shares a lot of elements with the genre. Horror can be a cathartic genre for many trauma victims. And what works for one person might be triggering to another. The events of this story might resonate with some people and upset others.

I will confess that much of the pain written in this story is my own. That’s why I wrote this, for my own catharsis. Why I always go back to stories exploring trauma and abuse.

After all the horrors my characters endured, I wanted to see some of their lives improve, even if only incrementally. Living through the past few years in the USA has made me more and more inclined to go for either happy endings or bittersweet ones as both a writer and reader. If everything works out, however, I go, “Sounds fake, but okay!”

I wanted to go for something bittersweet this time. Various levels of progress were made with most of the characters. Phineas and his orchard may be an unrealistic rescue mission spawned from my own fantasies of escape, but this is fiction so I’m allowed a bit of absurdity as a treat.

What matters is that the five Liddell children I started with were able to take the steps they needed to heal and grow. They’ll keep growing in my imagination, well beyond the confines of this story.

I know this conclusion may not satisfy everyone who reads Seasons, but that’s how stories go sometimes. I’ve hated so many endings from media I loved.

I have no current plans to write a sequel. I have a few short stories ideas for Seasons, and none of them are about the sixth Liddell Season. I’d love to explore more about the characters who’ve been along for most of this journey already in side stories.

But it’s also time for me to give some attention to many of my other novels! All of them were put on hold because Seasons held my brain hostage and I couldn’t stop thinking about it, day in and day out, for several months. :’)

I started this story by posting it anonymously. There’s a lot of harassment online, and it seems to be increasing. I am a “spanko” (even if I’m not sure how I feel about that word), but how I discovered that wasn’t favorable. Some of my stories celebrate overcoming that and embracing the kink. Others handle the traumatic, abusive aspects.

Even if I could afford therapy, it’s still good for me to talk about these themes. Although it’s natural to hope that others haven’t been through the same shit I have, it’s also nice to connect with others who understand exactly what I’m expressing.

That is why people share, isn’t it? Writing for oneself will always be important, but it’s not wrong to want to connect with anyone. It’s up to a writer if they want to share or keep what they write to themselves. They shouldn’t refrain because the story is “too dark and nasty” or “not appropriate for children”, nor should they feel obligated to share when they’re not comfortable doing so.

I did fear this story would sink my (currently non-existent) writing career if I put my name to it, but I felt brave after the kind reception and decided it was worth a chance. I told the story I wanted to, even if it’s imperfect in parts, and it helped me feel a bit more courageous and less ashamed about my trauma.

I don’t know if it did anything for anyone else. If it did, I’m glad. But also, I’m equally sorry if you have experiences that align enough for the themes of this story to resonate with you.

I’ll keep writing stories, some with spanking and some without, some of them kinky and others like Seasons will only allude to it being one character’s kink later on. :’)

If this is where we part, have fun and thanks for taking the time to read this story!

[holyluvr]

Not only am I going through my big ol’ Schizo mid twenties psychotic breakdown while on so many medications that I can barely function or think or feel in control of myself— which definitely leaves an impression and bias with most medical doctors even when it’s more sensical to believe that there’s a medical problem(there’s noted evidence of medical abnormalities and plenty of witnesses who were cursed to see it happening to me). As well as being with people who are unstable and unhealthy for me but currently no means to leave them, my mental instability is likely going to be Hell to have me taken seriously at all and maybe dangerous in this area. I’m also LGBT+ in a homophobic trad conservative county with a judge who has literally said that gays go to Hell and refused federal orders for same sex marriage equality until the very last moment they were about to be summoned to the fuckin’ ummm idk it was a gov threat of trial so I wanna say Supreme Court but that sounds too wild to be true. I’ll have to google later what my asshole county leadership’s settlement was about lol but I’m pretty sure we were one of if not the last recorded to marry homosexuals anywayyyyyyyyyy yes I get drinks thrown at me from passing trucks :)) and doctors who blame COVID-19 fevers at ER levels on gender nonconformity and who tell me that they cannot believe I’m mutilating the beautiful body God blessed me with while they have tattoos of Bible verses and flowers all over their exposed forearms and a receptionist with fake lips and lifted brows.

I don’t know if my next doctors will help me out. I don’t know if it’s nothing or dangerous because both came up in appointments, and doctors kept contradicting each other or saying they weren’t sure. My family medical history is a disaster, and I unfortunately would be the highest risk out of my siblings to have dormant sicknesses triggered. I had a virus known to cause life altering complications around the same time that this happened coupled with some events that gave me New and Improved Upgraded PTSD. I was also in active recovery from life threatening alcoholism/addiction and trying to learn how to live sober, which I think probably put my immune system in danger or could have thrown off anything that made me more vulnerable to being sick (before then, I almost never was sick. It was a family joke that I couldn’t get sick. I was called Superman when it came to health— almost no sense of pain until 2019, then it was disabling pain by May 2020).

I want to hope I have some toxin exposure that can be eased and undone with time and not Lupus. Or that it’s from injury dominoing that PT will fix rather than a mixed connective tissue disease to live with forever. Let’s hope it’s secondary symptoms from my health declining and not any sort of cancer or autoimmune disorder or genetic condition or endocrine system failure or liver damage or neurological disease,…

I want to be better. The best thing that could happen to me is to be given an answer and treatment and then feel good. I want more than anything in the damn world to walk into the office and have a convo to find out that it’s my thyroid medicine being a bit off with a coincidental injury that strained my body left uncared for but can be helped. That’s all I want more than anything, and it hurts and is frightening and makes me anxious because I don’t think that’s what’s going to happen. I’m scared for my future. I don’t know how to live as a disabled person, and all my passions will be stripped and become dead dreams. I don’t know what I’ll hold onto or look up to anymore. I don’t know who I will be. I don’t know HOW I’ll be because I’m poor and it’s not like I have a support system. I just want to be told that this was all a misunderstanding, and that it’s something harmless that can be reversed or helped or anything that fucking gives me hope for the future. And I’m equally as scared as not getting any answers.

#…

[unwelcome-ozian]

Hi to everyone. I wanted to ask you if there’s a term for what happened (and is happening) to me. To keep it short: as a teen (16-18) I lived with a man who forced me into sex trafficking. He used my loneliness against me and made me believe he loves me so I did what he wanted. After years of being away from him I still have strong feelings of wanting to defend him and what he’s done. As you can tell I can however say that he’s done bad things to me. But sometimes when I talk about what he’s done I start to get very dizzy and I’ll say things he used to make me repeat to him. Specifically I had to recite that I’m a toy and that I deserve abuse and rape, that I was made for it. You talk about programming on here and I can clearly tell it’s not that from what I’ve read from you. But is there a term for making victims repeat things like this until it becomes true to them even after the abuser is gone? It’s very scary to me and the people who witnessed me in the moments where this happens. I just become hollow and my voice is monotone. I feel nothing and I don’t remember who I actually am, all I know is that “I’m a toy made for abuse”. In those moments I also have a strong urge to convince people that he did nothing wrong and that I love him. Sometimes i feel like this even when I’m more grounded , but the deeper I get into that mindset the stronger the wish is to go back to him.

One of the symptoms common in complex trauma survivors is various degrees of dissociation.  Dissociation creates a barrier between your conscious daily living experience and experiences where there was overwhelm created by trauma experience, that has not been able to be processed into one’s story.  Those feelings and memories are then walled off as if in pockets.  The parts of one’s being that have been walled off carry varying degrees of feelings or beliefs.  These parts may be experienced as intrusive thoughts or they may take more developed forms of alter fragments or alters found with secondary or tertiary dissociation (explained here). 

Even abusers and abuser groups that are not highly skilled or have the resources available for trauma based mind control (TBMC) have some awareness of the ability to instill beliefs in their victims that will limit their thinking and keep them loyal to their abusers.  The abuse that you have described qualifies as mind control through brainwashing or indoctrination.  Whereas it is not the same as TBMC (defined here), the abusers instill beliefs and actions in their victims through conditioned responses to the trauma.  Though this doesn’t usually cause the levels of dissociated barriers formed with DID, the victim may still hold feelings and beliefs in dissociated parts of their personalities.  These parts will be conditioned to act and believe in ways that will serve the abusers in order to best survive the abuse.  

One way of creating these conditioned  responses is through trauma bonds.  A trauma bond is formed in the victim when the abuser is the source of trauma and also the means of survival for the victim.  Due to activity that takes place in brain chemicals (which I describe here), the victim’s dependence on the abuser makes them open to believing untrue things about themselves in order to make sense of the abuse, while at the same time not blaming the abuser.  The brain chemicals also allow for the victim to overlook negative information regarding the abuser and receive any relief of pain or small actions of favor as kindness on their part.  By repeating the phrases that you mentioned during your abuse, your abuser was creating the beliefs that would be held by the same part of you that was holding the emotions and beliefs related to your abuse in order that that part of you would respond accordingly.  

As survivors move away from the earlier abusive experiences, sometimes these same parts may be called upon to hold other similar trauma or they may be triggered and depending on the level of dissociation, one’s conscience may become aware of some of the dissociated feelings and beliefs that are trapped in those parts of themselves that are stuck in those experiences.  It can be confusing to know and understand one piece of information regarding one’s history while at the same  experiencing another set of feelings or beliefs regarding the same history, very strongly at times due to the responses that were induced.  I hope this makes sense and offers some language for your experience.  

~Josha

#answers to questions #indoctrination #brainwashing #mind control #conditioned responses #trauma responses #cptsd #trauma effects #dissociation #Josha

[allnightlongzine]

Fixing your heart: The triumphant return of My Chemical Romance

Aimee Hallsworth explores My Chemical Romance’s sensational comeback in light of their remarkable journey through pain and struggle

Aimee Hallsworth | Sunday June 5 2022 | varsity.co.uk

On an otherwise unassuming Thursday in early May, with little fanfare and no promotion, long-mourned cult sensation My Chemical Romance released their first single since the group broke up in 2013. This new output comes in conjunction with the beginning of the band’s global reunion tour and, as "Welcome to the Black Parade" re-enters the Billboard top 200, their explosive return to the music scene has been nothing short of a sensation.

“A sense of clarity and purpose shines through the song”

The new track, “The Foundations of Decay”, filters over a static noise, building quietly. A sober guitar accompanies the distorted singing of vocalist Gerard Way before the chorus swells into an explosively triumphant crescendo of noise, as Way’s fluting voice carries over the thundering drums. The song is both completely new and wonderfully familiar: like revisiting an old friend. Since the band’s last studio album, Danger Days, all the members, except bassist Mikey Way, have produced solo albums (multiple in the case of guitarist Frank Iero). While Way drew on Britpop influences for Hesitant Alien, Iero lent far more into his punk and indie-rock interests in his first album, Stomachaches. Guitarist Ray Toro’s 2016 alt-rock album Remember the Laughter is masterful, characterised by his soft vocals and wide-ranging musical ability: he plays the lion’s share of instruments on the record. An appreciation of the diversity of these efforts highlights the different influences each member brings to the band: from Toro’s subtle melodies to Iero’s explosive energy, all of which can be felt in their new song.

 Visualiser for My Chemical Romance's "The Foundations of Decay"YOUTUBE / MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE (HTTPS://WWW.YOUTUBE.COM/WATCH?V=V2KWUJKRVVS)

“The Foundations of Decay” is an anthem of reunion and of healing. As with many of Way’s lyrics, it’s intensely personal and revisits the theme explored in the band’s very first track: “Skylines and Turnstiles”, where Way expresses the trauma of witnessing 9/11. They meditate on what kind of progress has been made since that moment, both on a personal and global level. There’s a sharp dissonance between the desolate state of world affairs and the mental stability that Way and the bandmates have achieved in the years since they split up. A sense of clarity and purpose shines through the song which lacks the escapism and fantastical theatrics that dominate the bulk of their discography. There’s a sense that music is no longer a form of life support or therapy that Way describes in the video diaries chronicling the band’s early days. It is not a song recounting a harrowing battle with trauma but an exploration of healing that anguish. By lying in the "foundations of decay", one can uncover the roots of the pain that must be healed in order to grow. When Way croons out "you must fix your heart", it is not stance but a stipulation – the heart must be fixed in order to live authentically.

“This is a group of people who have a deep bond with both each other and the crowd”

This celebration of healing is evident in the live shows the band have played so far, all of which have been jubilant expressions of love for everything that My Chemical Romance stands for. These shows have been some of the best in their already impressive career primarily because they are having so much fun. Not tied to an album, there’s room to experiment and change the set list each night. By mixing up their entire discography, lesser known B-sides like “Mastas of Ravenkroft” have been aired on stage alongside classics like “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)”, showcasing their talent without poor mental health and bad coping mechanisms looming overhead.

 My Chemical Romance's official music video for "I'm Not Okay (I Promise)"YOUTUBE / MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE (HTTPS://WWW.YOUTUBE.COM/WATCH?V=DHZTNGAS4FC)

The band have all struggled with various mental health problems and addiction over the years. That rawness is reflected in their art. A dominating factor in their staggering success has been the connectivity between the struggles of the band and the struggles of their listeners. When Way rejoices with a crowd in being alive, it’s more profound than just basking in the moment, it’s a celebration of overcoming mental anguish together.

It’s extraordinary to see Way on stage, 45 and joyful, when at one point it was uncertain he would live past 25. The crowds waving at Mikey’s children and Toro kissing Way during one of the Milton Keynes sets crystallises the joyous affection which ripples through their shows. This is a group of people who have a deep bond with both each other and the crowd who exultantly chant their lyrics. In one of his various on-stage speeches, Way explains how he used to work the crowds at gigs before being able to release that self-consciousness, proudly exclaiming: “and now I just feel connected to f-ing every one of you.” The audience roars exuberantly in response. This joy and authenticity seems to be at the centre of My Chemical Romance’s journey moving forward; the band seem so delightfully comfortable in themselves after battling extreme personal hardships and mental demons for so long. It’s going to be nothing but exhilarating to see where they go next.

#swarm #varsity #outside #Youtube

[fandomfrenzy97]

Ignorance Isn’t Bliss

A Hogwarts Legacy Fanfiction

Some time ago, MC and her friends, Sebastian and Ominis investigated a hidden passage within the castle, leading to solving a series of puzzles that would result in the discovery of one of Salazar Slytherin’s darkest secrets, however casting the Cruciatus Curse was required to gain access. Poor Ominis couldn’t bear to cast that curse again, especially after what happened between him and his Pureblood-obsessed family, so it was up to Sebastian and MC to make the difficult choice. After meeting Anne in Feldcroft just a few weeks prior, witnessing firsthand just how much pain she’d endured, MC wanted to spare Sebastian the burden of even temporarily stepping into his own sister’s shoes, so MC bravely decided firstly learn the curse, purely for self-defence, before being the one to personally suffer from it’s excruciating side effects.

Once the Cruciatus Curse was cast, the pain MC felt was beyond unbearable…indeed it was like being pierced by numerous white-hot knives, but in the end, it didn’t really matter because Sebastian was safe and the mystery behind Noctua Gaunt’s (Ominis’ Aunt) disappearance had been solved…the only person MC desired genuine gratitude from was Sebastian himself, but he didn’t even utter a word, even after all they’d been through together, so it was going to sting even more when his “ungratefulness” would reach the next level.

On one of their next adventure together, MC and Sebastian travelled to a Goblin Mine not too far away from Hogwarts to start completing the blank canvas of a Triptych they discovered in the Undercroft the same day they visited Feldcroft together. After battling a combination of Goblins and Spiders together, you’d think they’d make quite the dream team, with mutual unconditional trust between them…apparently not…it seemed that after everything they’d been through, including battling a fucking Troll in Hogsmeade almost singlehanded, seeing Anne (and Solomon) in Feldcroft and even taking big risks sneaking into the Restricted Section of the Library, trust clearly meant a much bigger deal to Sebastian than MC realised.

Despite constantly being expected to be the saviour that the Wizarding World unknowingly desperately needed, MC never thought twice when it came to seeking allies in the most unexpected place, including Lodgok, a friendly Goblin who wanted nothing more than to see Ranrok defeated, so when MC openly told Sebastian about him once they returned to the Undercroft, he began to grow increasingly angry…he even called MC “ignorant”, clearly believing that MC couldn’t give two shits about Anne and what she’d been through, before he dared to walk away…MC, feeling offended and outraged, decided to retaliate. “Don’t you DARE walk away from me, you ungrateful piece of shit!” MC’s wand was pointed in his direction. “Accio!” Sebastian’s yell echoed through the empty room, as his entire body was forcefully summoned. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” He shouted. “Teaching you a lesson, that’s what! You clearly don’t understand the fact that EVERYTHING I have done so far or ever will do hasn’t been just for you or your sister, but for ALL of us, making sure that our lives don’t go to hell because of Ranrok and Rookwood. So yes, of course I have clung on to EVERY word you’ve said about Goblins cursing Anne, but Lodgok isn’t one of them, so unless I’m convinced otherwise, I will continue to trust that what we’re doing will create a better future for both wizardkind and goblinkind, so don’t you DARE say that I don’t care because clearly you know NOTHING!! So, for once, why don’t you grow up and send me an owl when you’re ready to actually start trusting me…until then, stay away from me.” “Or what?” He replied with a smirk, both of his arms crossed. “I’ll show you what REAL pain looks like.” “Go ahead…Do your worst.” His eyebrows raised. “You asked for it, Sallow.” MC replied coldly. “Crucio!” Sebastian then fell onto his knees, one hand on his torso, the other touching the floor, while he screamed as the excruciating side effects of the curse coursed through his body. MC turned and began to walk away as Sebastian’s screams continued to echo, until it finally began to fade…the only sound that could eventually be heard was his heavy breathing. “I think you’ll find that YOU’RE the ignorant one, Sallow. Ignorance isn’t bliss…keep that in mind and next time, you’d think twice before you EVER mess with me again.”

#hogwarts legacy #fanfiction #inspiration #ignorance isn’t bliss #sebastian sallow #my characters #salazar slytherin #secret scriptorium #cruciatus curse #payback #don’t mess with a slytherin scorned

[atopearth]

Ken ga Kimi Part 3 - Sagihara Sakyou Route

Sakyou princess carrying Kayo when she fell off the horse was niceee. Definitely much more romantic than Enishi's one but his was funny so..hahaha. I'm still not sure how to feel about Sakyou because his kindness isn't exactly fake I guess but it's more a means to an end for him, he only does it because this is the most convenient way to complete his mission. I don't care that much about Shiguragi compared to others, but it was definitely disconcerting to see Sakyou relish torturing him and slowly killing him. Although Sakyou is terrifying, he's definitely right that the best present to give Kayo's father as a "souvenir" is her returning home safely. There's nothing he wants more than that. It seems like Sakyou is more attached to Kayo than I thought haha, I guess he is a softie at heart. I was quite scared for Sakyou when he got tricked by the oiran and nearly got killed by the oni he hates most, that would be so devastating... It's nice to see Kayo and him bond through her taking care of him and his injuries in her house. Even though he's a distrustful person because of his past, it's nice to see that he understands the kind person Kayo is, and she can also get to learn that despite him always wanting to distance himself from others, Sakyou is also a kind person at heart.

It's adorable how sweet Sakyou is towards Yanohiko. It was so heartwarming to see him teach Yanohiko how to write and read. I guess spending such a peaceful time with Kayo must remind him of his family. It's nice that Kayo provides a place of solace for him, but I wonder if his heart can be healed. Lmaoo when Kayo's leg was next to Sakyou's face in the futon when they were hiding from her father. Considering how scary it is when a woman physically experiences being physically overpowered by a man, I'd say Sakyou's actions weren't very nice at all even if they were out of goodwill. It was understandable for Sakyou to leave so that Kayo and Yanohiko won't get involved and hurt, but it's still so sad to see Kayo cry since he left without saying anything. Kayo always makes me want to cry seeing how hard she tries to chase after Sakyou. I'm glad he stopped running and took care of her injury and told her more about his reasons for leaving instead of just running away. The reveal that Zantetsu killed Sakyou's family was obvious, but having to see Sakyou lose to him, get injured and then thrown into jail for trying to get revenge and kill someone during this prestigious tournament was saddening. Suzukake and Kayo are so sweet though, they wanted to be thrown into jail as well so they could treat Sakyou's wounds😭 I wasn't really fond of Sakyou initially, but I can't help but choke up thinking about his pain, disgrace, regret and pure hatred for the ones who murdered his family merely because they witnessed oni trafficking humans. He was only 11 years old and he witnessed the bloodied bodies of his family, how could he possibly ever live a normal life after that. How could he not get revenge for them? How could he possibly swallow his defeat against Zantetsu when he murdered Sakyou's family in cold blood? And his sister was pregnant? That's just so cruel... Well, Asakura must be crazy and dumb, because what makes him think Tsuzumi would willingly kill Nanae as a sacrifice to the marebito so that they can revive Tadanaga???

It was really cute to see Kayo try so hard to invite Sakyou to the festival with her, and her father even overheard it along with the customers. I was also really happy to see Enishi tell her how important she is to Sakyou and how much he cares about her just with him asking her to go watch him at the tournament. I want them to be as happy as they were when they spent time in Kayo's room. I didn't think Hotarumaru (Sakyou's katana) would actually be the same "level" as the other five swords, and I guess I underestimated how esteemed Sakyou's family was. I'm glad Kayo made him realise that Hotarumaru isn't just a sword to him but also represents everything about his lost family. I can see why he left it behind in a cave and didn't think he was qualified to wield it, since the sword actually got damaged. The beauty of the fireflies "healing" the sword and watching over Sakyou was very nice, I wonder if the souls of the people in the Sagihara family watch over it since it's the family heirloom. I'm glad that Sakyou wants to live now and wants to come back to Kayo. I'm also very happy that Kayo was able to tell Kei to help Sakyou since Zantetsu was planning to bring a whole bunch of oni to fight Sakyou. I didn't expect all the guys though! It's kinda anticlimactic how easily Sakyou defeated Zantetsu considering the pain and struggle before this, but I guess Sakyou was always strong as long as he isn't injured and blinded by hatred. Sakyou opening a school and teaching kids for free is very sweet. I love their new clothes!! Very simple and nice. The CG was super pretty but I admit that the confession was quite lacklustre, especially compared to Kei's one haha. His confession for wanting Kayo to be his wife and stay by his side forever was sweet though! I can imagine them living their lives peacefully teaching children haha.

I love how in the harmony ending, Kayo always asks/says things before Sakyou gets a opportunity to because she doesn't want to leave anything to chance and she wants to be true to her feelings. I admire her. I love how thoughtful Sakyou is to prepare stuff from Edo to decorate her room in his house so that she won't feel lonely. Another thing I love is how the guys are protecting her for her real wedding parade now, that's sweet. Aww their kid Chihaya is so cute! But it's sad that they live separately and don't get to see each other much. Is Nanae really carrying a child? I guess I'm not surprised that she isn't "pure" considering the fact that she seems to have chased after Tsuzumi all alone and a lone woman travelling alone is an easy target... Anyway, the fact that she so readily gave up her life to protect Tsuzumi was very touching but I don't know how he'll take that news. I felt so bad for Kayo when Sakyou ignored her confession and changed the subject. But I guess what's worse is that Sakyou seems to love and hate Kayo. He loves spending time with her, but his conviction for revenge wavers because of her so now he's in the middle, unable to fully commit to revenge but unable to commit to a life for himself, suffering at a standstill. It's kinda sad that this cursed sword seems to have elevated Sakyou's desire for blood... Oh yeah! I find it so cool that Kayo's portrait changes to include the hair ornament Sakyou bought her! That's so cool!! Seeing Sakyou descend into madness and kill innocent people is just so heartbreaking, especially when he killed Yanohiko, the poor child. The only cursed sword I know of is Muramasa, mainly because of Chrono Cross lol, so I am surprised that it is Muramasa. It broke my heart when Sakyou killed Kayo. He regained his sanity because of it, but in the end because Muramasa's curse makes him unable to throw it away, he's forced to kill himself along with the sword using a bomb... 

The wild(?) ending is really so tragic. Even in the afterlife, Sakyou and Kayo are forced to nearly separate and now have to endure hell together. I have to say, Kayo's resolve to be with Sakyou is so admirable, she doesn't waver at all when it comes to death or even Hell and she doesn't regret anything at all. This was definitely a terrible ending for Kayo and Sakyou all around, but I really enjoyed it. I love how much effort was put into this "bad ending", I really love these tragic ends that break my heart. Even though it was a cruel ending, I loved how it gave us the initial romantic dream of what his life with Kayo could have been like if they were all alive, and then showed how even though they're suffering in Hell, as long as they're together, they'll still be happy. Truly a sad but "happy" ending because at least they can stay together forever. Definitely my favourite ending. The strange ending was quite sad too. Especially since Kayo was willing to die together with Sakyou but in the end, it wasn't time for her to die and she had to part with him. I would feel sorry for her dad though if she really died, he would be so heartbroken. But at least this ending is much more hopeful in that there is the possibility for Sakyou to repent for his sins and one day meet Kayo again. It was actually really difficult to watch Kayo suffer being alone living life without Sakyou, I felt bad for her even though I do think it's pretty crazy how smitten she is haha. I'm not sure how the firefly thing works, not sure if he's a firefly or Hotarumaru helped them meet one more time, but at least she got a bit more strength from it to live on.

Overall, in terms of romance, Kei is definitely the much sweeter, cuter and adorable route, but considering how Sakyou is as a person, I think this is the sweetest he can get haha. Considering how focused he is on revenge, the time he shared with Kayo in her room was the most peaceful and most memorable for both them and for me. It really makes you want them to just live like that forever because it really was the sweetest time they shared. Even though their relationship isn't as "sweet" as with Kei, I really liked their fair share of troubles in developing their relationship. Sakyou always felt like he was too happy beside her and didn't feel like he deserved it and needed to focus on revenge, but at the same time he really enjoyed his time with Kayo and I liked that dilemma. It's funny but I definitely enjoyed the "wild" ending the most, I guess I just love tragedy haha! The happy endings were nice but I'd say that's the only ending that really evoked strong emotions from me. Sakyou is definitely recommended if you love reading the heartwrenching difficulties between choosing love and choosing revenge, and then suffering from the decisions made. Very unforgettable imo. On to Suzukake!

#ken ga kimi