#seen him live twice a fucking legend that one

[phoenixkaptain]

I love it when pre Original Trilogy era shows how much effort went into making the Death Star. It took decades, literal decades, and it took so much money and so many people and it was such a secretive thing and it’s staffed by millions because it’s the size of a small moon.

I cannot express how much all of the added information makes it so much funnier that Luke blew it up.

Luke destroys literally everything Palpatine built. He blows up the Death Star, which was referenced in universe as early as the second movie. He blew up the weapon of mass destruction twenty years in the making. And he blew it up pretty much directly after it’s first and only successful attack. It was operational for fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes that Palpatine had the thing he’d been building for longer than Luke has been alive, and Luke blows it up. First day retirement, but first hour retirement.

Luke convinces Darth Vader to turn back to the light side, a feat thought literally impossible by literally everybody. Sidious clearly doesn’t see Vader’s betrayal coming. Vader’s betrayal was not in his plans, nor was it something he was prepared for. Sidious is a powerful Force user with all four limbs while Vader is a man in the tin can Palpatine put him in. If Palpatine had seen Vader turning coming, he would not have allowed it to happen.

Luke literally should not even be alive. Palpatine almost definitely got Padme out of the way on purpose, and he almost certainly was trying for her unborn child as well (there was way too big of a risk that a cute liddol bebe would bring some humanity back to Anakin, and Palpatine did not want Anakin to have any humanity) Luke living is literally the first step in Palpatine’s ultimate downfall, especially once Vader finds out that Luke is his son. His very alive son. His son that is not dead, despite Palpatine claiming Anakin killed Padme. Implying that Anakin killed Padme and she posthumously gave birth. But, she didn’t give birth on Mustafar, which was the last place Anakin interacted with her. And once the mother dies, you have to get those fuckers out fast or they die too.

I imagine Darth Vader piecing all of this together is that meme with all the math floating around his head, because how could Padme have died by his hand and then given birth like two hours later?

Luke killing Palpatine is what ultimately leads to the dissolution of the Empire as an omnipotent entity. Luke killed the Empire. Luke spends a good amount of his adult life killing Empire remnants. We see that in the Mandalorian, since he’s so recognizable that Gideon immediately knows he’s fucked just by seeing an X-wing. We read it in Legends’ continuity, where Luke terrifies Imperials because he can walk into their changing room and stand in their for a minute and they don’t even notice.

Luke destroyed Palpatine’s life’s work. Everything Palpatine spent his whole life working towards, and Luke kills all of it. He blows up not one, but two Death Stars (he may not have pulled the trigger on the second Death Star, but without him, it never would have been destroyed). He convinces not one, but multiple Sith and Dark Jedi to return from the Dark Side. He is the only reason that Obi-Wan Kenobi, the biggest pain in Palpatine’s ass ever born, lives long enough to make it to the Death Star.

Palpatine went through so much effort. And just when he had finally won, when he finally had a weapon capable of destroying entire planets with a single blast, making it impossible for any planets or peoples to go against him, Luke shows up nineteen years late to the Jedi party with space Starbucks and a droid twice his age and almost singlehandedly destroys everything Palpatine ever had a hand in creating.

Luke manages to become even worse than Obi-Wan Kenobi, the ultimate thorn in the side of politicians, and Luke doesn’t even understand any politics. He wasn’t trained in diplomacy like Obi-Wan and Leia, no, he’s a farmboy who left home for the first time in his entire life, just this morning. And he is the one to destroy the Empire.

If they rewrote Star Wars and had it entirely from Palpatine’s perspective, Luke Skywalker would be his greatest foe. Luke Skywalker would be the final boss. Luke Skywalker is the antithesis of everything Palpatine believes in and he is the one character that Palpatine cannot predict. He isn’t as moldable as Anakin, he doesn’t respond to threats very well, he’s apparently impossible to kill via Force lightning (still the funniest scene of all times, the progression of Palpatine’s face falling and him looking like “what the fuck??? Is this kid rubber??? I’ve electrocuted him eight times???”), his unwavering faith in his father’s goodness makes Darth Vader want to be a better person, Luke Skywalker is the big bad of Palpatine’s story and—

There is nothing in this world that is funnier than someone’s biggest antagonist being Luke fucking Skywalker. Luke Skywalker, who saved the galaxy with the power of love and who shouldn’t exist, by Jedi rules and by Palpatine’s own attempts, and whose best friends are literally droids, which Palpatine canonically hates!

Everything about this is hilarious, this is the funniest thing in all of media, Palpatine loses absolutely everything to some backwater farmboy who fucking likes droids.

#luke skywalker #star wars #anakin skywalker #sheev palpatine #darth sidious #original trilogy #the inane ramblings of a madman #listen i recognize that other people are important in the plot of sw #but at the same time #luke is the marble that gets things rolling #just in general #luke is the reason obi wan eventually actually kills maul #luke somehow gave yoda hope that another generation of jedi was an achievable goal #luke saved leia from being executed #luke is the sun of the series #it’s from him that literally everything grows #the story that began this universe #is one of a boy becoming an adult #and so without luke skywalker #none of the characters would exist #thus luke is the sun and we should all bask in the rays #but also in how funny it is #that this guy was more of a pain than obi wan kenobi #a feat previously thought impossible #long post

[skyloftian-nutcase]

“Have you ever wished you were dead?”

Legend abruptly stopped in mid motion as he was getting ready to sip some of his cider. He glanced at Warriors worriedly, a million thoughts blazing through his mind and choking in his throat before they could be spoken.

What ended up coming out was, "You've had way too much alcohol."

Warriors barked out a tired laugh and downed another sip just to seemingly spite his friend. He glanced at him from the side. "You didn't answer the question."

Slowly, Legend glanced away, getting his bearings. “…Yeah. Once or twice.”

Warriors hummed, his eyes unfocused again, staring off somewhere Legend couldn't reach. The travel nurse felt his stomach knot at the sight of it, and he put his drink down, growing nauseous.

"Hey," Legend piped up awkwardly and worriedly. "I... you... have you thought that?"

Warriors didn't speak. Legend waited. His friend stayed mute.

Growing more agitated, Legend pivoted so that he was facing his friend fully, one leg tucked under him while the other hung off the sofa where they were sitting.

"Look," Legend started, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his tone, unable to keep his own emotions under control at the turn this conversation was taking. "We've seen some shit, both of us. I'm not about to tell you how you should feel. I don't know what you've been through. But you'd better be damn sure I'll get on your sorry ass if you start thinking of different ways to die.

"I've had days where I wish I could just stop breathing. But you know what kept me going? Every damn shift in that blasted emergency department. Because as much shit as we see, we see why we do it, we see so many people dying but we see how precious their lives are too. Remember the fifteen family members for that one lady who died? Remember how many lives she touched? You... you remember that one guy, the one we all fought so damn hard to save and died anyway? You remember how he had no one, how we'd known him for all of a couple hours and it still hit us like he was our own? Don't you fucking dare for one one second think your life isn't important. I don't give a fuck if you think it doesn't matter, or you think you're worthless because you're fucking not."

Rising up from the couch, face flushed, he continued, "I don't care if your brain doesn't accept what I'm saying. I don't fucking care. Your perception of reality isn't mine, you got that? If you think you're worthless that doesn't mean the whole world does. It just means you need help. Because nobody should be thinking like that about themselves, okay? Like we all have dips and that's just life, but you should never want to die, you got that? If you're feeling that way you'd better fucking listen, because I'm going to--"

"Legend," Warriors interrupted quietly with a soft smile. "I'm not feeling that way right now."

Legend froze in mid tirade, mouth agape as he was about to continue ranting, and then he let out a shaky breath with a defeated, embarrassed, "Oh."

There was a long pause, and then Legend said, "Well, good. Thanks for scaring me, idiot."

Warriors laughed, reaching forward and grabbing Legend by the shirt and dragging him into a hug. Legend yelped and spluttered, but sighed in defeat and hugged his friend in return, melting into the embrace.

"You're right," Warriors said as he squeezed Legend even tighter. "No matter what our minds whisper in the dark, we shouldn't listen to it. There's too much at stake. Every one of us matters, and if our heads are ever in a space where we can't accept that, I also know there are others who care about me. I can live for them, if nothing else... until I can make myself a little better."

Easing up, he pushed Legend away just a hair so he could look him in the eye. "You know that you have so many who care about you too, right? It's not just everyone's life is precious except mine."

Legend rolled his eyes dramatically. "For the love of--I'm the one who just told you--"

"I'm not talking about what you said to me, Ledge. I'm talking about how you feel about yourself."

The travel nurse sobered and then sighed. "I know. I know others care about me. And I've seen what happens when people don't think that way, what happens to their loved ones who are left behind to pick up the pieces that you can never pick up. I never want to go through that."

His voice cracked and he snapped his mouth shut. Damn alcohol. He shouldn't have had so much. Pushing away, he rose and took a step from his friend to get some composure back. Then he let out a sad laugh. "Aren't we just a fucked up pair?"

Warriors chuckled at that, rising and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, but that doesn't change how amazing we are. Naturally, I'm a little more amazing than you--"

"Like hell you are."

"I'm clearly the better nurse."

"The only thing you have in spades beyond me is your fat ego."

"Nonsense, your head's pretty inflated, too."

"Maybe so," Legend relented, the fight draining out of him. He glanced at Warriors, suddenly open and vulnerable. "You... you do know I love you, right?"

Warriors' smile faded, just a hair, just enough for the gentle surprise to take hold as his eyebrows rose slightly. Then it returned, soft and relieved and so, so warm. "Yeah. I know."

#I'm breaking my hiatus to post this because I feel like it's needed #whoever needs to read this please know that you are loved #and deserve love #and deserve to be taken care of #and deserve all the things everyone deserves <3 #Legend is a little aggressive in showing his care but he means well #lu in healthcare #lu warriors #lu legend #writing #*crawls back under my rock*

[absolutely-normal-about-x]

OKAY MY TURN NOW: drop the headcanon deets. What's living rent-free in your head right this moment 👀

HOLY SHIT GOT SHOT BACK- LANDKSBDKAHDKAND

But alright!! There’s so many (Aside from Legends Reborn)

I mostly keep this shit in my head and I can make a huge list of it but dawg most of mine involves my silly interpretations- plus I seen people

It’s kinda a mess to think about but I’ll go to my personal favorites

X being chunky always gives me some feels for me, like he would fucking rock it. He’s actually more tanky then Zero while he’s sorta at times a glass canon (Mf Died like multiple times and X died Once). It derives from the idea of why he chose a thicker body, because the area of his stomach was pierced by Sigma like twice. So basically it gives him extra defense. Despite the it he’s just a Flexible as ever but a bit more slower.

Meaning that his “Stomach” area is incredibly sensitive and he will smack you on instinct if you touch it. He suffers phantom pains occasionally. It's a massive bitch but he got used to it.

(Aka I believe Burly/chunky X supremacy)

X has a soft spot for children okay, since he’s very approachable to children, he would even let them draw on his armor. Babies are a definite weakness of his their tiny hands will make him cry so hard

So it would make sense that he would be a parent but he would rather settle down to start a Family in peace times and after he himself healed and rested.

Zero is kinda a low key creature, in the sense that he actually has retractable claws and can run on fours but only for extremely rare occasions. That's because he’s not only the ultimate war but also the ultimate predator. Aka he’s fucking lion coded

One of the reasons why X and Zero are always different compared to other Androids and shit is because they were made from Alien tech/Energy stuff. You can’t fucking tell that Dr Light didn’t used the material that Duo left to include that while making X right? And Zero…We all know Wily was on some crack (I’m always a believer that He used evil energy to create Roboenza and what could eventually become the Maverick Virus). And no one knew about the whole fiasco with Duo aside from Megaman and the others. So it makes sense that Light and wily (Possible Cossack knew something about it) Used it for their final creations.

Marty (From the MMX manga that I’m absolutely so normal about) has so much knowledge of Marine life and the ocean, Rescue worker regulations and information is insane. How the flying shit did a marine rescue worker end up as an infamous Pirate Queen is a mystery to anyone.

She's also tall and muscular and is absolutely more “Beast-like” (Having scales, fangs and retractable webbed claws) to give off a more intimidating impression to keep folks away from her and her crew.

Speaking of her Crew they are all composed of other marine Rescue types, a couple Human Cyborgs (and a few non cyborgs) and a few Repliforce defectors. (A small fun fact in my silly XxMarty Valentine manatee oneshot, Marty brought up Gale Albatross who’s actually a former Repliforce soldier that defected as soon as they declared independence not wanting to be apart of it but is untrusting towards the hunters).

She may not look like but she genuinely cares for everyone in her crew and would do anything to protect them. She also courted her hair after her fight with Byte back at X3 manga. She has matured over the years but still holds her mischievous/prideful personality.

Contrary to what it's led to believe her crew aren’t like…bad or act like actual pirates. It’s more like they are more of an independent group. Since that they deal with poaching, taking out criminals out of sea, providing relief for coastal communities that were strongly affected by war, etc…They just Red Alert if they weren’t Bounty hunters.

Axl is absolutely a Streamer and a bit of a meme master. He’s a deadly actor and trickster so watch out he fucking glad that he’s a goober!!

Since I’m on a Legends kick

Legends is underrated as shit I mean the potential is great! It’s so fucking expansive Idk where to start-

WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH CARBONS??

LIKE NO ONE IS MAKING HEADCANONS OF THEM AND ITS A CRIME!

I’ll probably do some of mine at somepoint how they are Biomechanical creatures and how they diversified and evolved (The master basically granted them access to things that were lost that belonged to their Reploid ancestors.)

Or how the Ruins can be function as Mystery Dungeons and the different between an Official Digger and a independent Digger and so much wkrbekeheiba)

There’s are what I have but dawg so many in my little critter brain of mine

#megaman x #megaman legends #headcanons #Also thank you for asking LAJDKSBDKABDUS #ask

[inconmess]

As a result of a conversation with @gyorklady, here's another tiny Candela snippet.

Cosmo walked into the Glass Cat, taking in the crowd of the place before letting out a sigh of relief. Today seemed like a slow day, which meant he could catch up with Madam Glask today.

"Evening, Mr. Grimm. I would assume you would like to meet up with the Madam today?"

"Ah... Good evening to you too, Mr. Trills. I see you are back from wherever you were called off to. I hope that it was an eventful visit?"

"As eventful as it could be, Cosmo. As eventful as it could be. Should I inform her about your arrival?"

"Ah, she knows about my arrival. She will be by to meet me soon. But, if you don't mind, Mr. Trills. I would love to have a chat with you."

"Oh, alright. By the way, what happened to Oscar? Haven't seen him around in a while. Got into the slammer again?"

"No, no. Oscar's fine. Just running a few errands for me out of town, you see. I am not able enough to travel anymore and my grandson helps me way more than he should." Cosmo smiled, his eyes crinkling at it.

"But I do want to ask you a question. How is Grimoria doing? You know, the ward of the Foggs? I have been meaning to check upon her but it has been a little rough the past few days."

Malcolm immediately straightened at that question, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Grimoria had been included in their circle barely a couple of weeks ago and while she was way too young to be an operative in the field, the Lightkeeper insisted, for some reason. No one knows about her so how did he know?

"How do you know her?"

"I run an antiques shop, Mr. Trills. Of course I know of the Foggs and her ward. How is she doing?"

Before he could give a reply though the door opened and Madam Glask entered the room, giving a slight nod to Malcolm.

"Good day to you, Mr. Grimm, I will be taking my leave now."

"Meet again, Mr. Trills. Take care of her. She is a good one."

<Later at Leo's place>

"You seem tense, Malcolm, is something wrong?" Edgar asked as he leaned forward slightly.

"Leo, who the fuck is Cosmo and how the fuck does he know Mori is with us?"

"Cosmo who?"

"Cosmo Grimm. He frequents the Glass Cat frequently and talks with Madam Glask. You know, the one in the wheelchair, runs the Antiquarian?"

"You met Cosmo Grimm?" Leo blinked twice, astonishment colouring his voice.

"Yeah, I mean, I suppose the lady and he are friends."

"He and his grandson are fucking shrouded in gossip that I am surprised that you haven't heard of any of them yet?! Have you been living under a rock?" Leo flays his hands around as he flops back onto a chair.

"Technically I was out in war and all I know about Oscar is that he also works with the security and has visited the slammer more than humanly possible. Still doesn't answer my question of how does he know that Grimoria is known to us. She started working with us barely a couple of weeks ago!"

"The old man is a part of Candela, duh." Malcolm blinks.

"He's... a lightkeeper, right?"

"Nope, still goes out on the field. Rumours are that he refuses to take up a spot of a lightkeeper despite Candela insisting on it."

"He's on a freaking wheelchair?"

"He's a stubborn one, I give you that." Edgar says quietly as he took a sip of his tea. "Man is a legend in Candela. I am surprised you haven't heard the stories yet."

"Him being a legend at Candela still doesn't give me answers about how he knows Grimoria." Malcolm groaned in frustration.

"He knows me because he was the one who kinda introduced me to Candela. Kind of. More like he gave me refuge and Candela dug me out during one of the visits to the Foggs. Sorry about the delay, by the way, had to make another sales today."

#messy thots #fanfiction #candela obscura #cosmo grimm #malcolm trills #leo amicus #edgar lycoris #grimoria #circle of the crimson mirror #Cosmo is kinda a troll I guess #and I love making Malcolm frustrated #long post

[kraviolis]

betting on the flood against the ark (The Owl House)

Rating: Teen Relationships: Belos & Golden Guard OC (Darius's Mentor) Words: 2.9k Additional Tags: Manipulation, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Toxic & Unhealthy Relationships, Complicated Feelings, Grimwalker Lore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort But The Comfort Is Kinda Fucked Up Summary:

“Grimwalker.” Kane repeats, irreverent. “And here I was, still thinking those were nothing more than a scarytale parents tell their children to frighten them into not wandering off in the night.”

“Is that all they’re known as, now?” Philip hums in amusement. “A hundred years ago, Grimwalkers were more of a myth or a legend that one told over a campfire; the corpses of Basilisk victims so desperate to get their magic back that they’d devour the still-beating heart right from the chest of any unlucky witch who lost their way.”

“That could explain my preference for rare steaks.”

AO3 LINK

__________________

“Kane,” Belos’s voice is cold as steel and twice as sharp. “What are you doing here?”

Kane doesn’t answer him. None of his answers would be satisfactory to the Emperor and despite it all, he still couldn’t help but wish for his approval. 

(What a mess he was. Still pretending as if he could ever be truly special in Belos’s eyes when even his own face is the copy of a dead man’s.)

No, Kane doesn’t even move. He stays perfectly still, kneeling with his head bowed. His gaze stays locked to the hand of a child sticking out of what looked to be a grave, but Kane now knows it’s more akin to a womb, if anything. After a moment of silence, Belos sighs in a way that says he’d been expecting a confrontation of some sort. 

Did the others try to fight him? How idiotic, Kane thinks.

The Emperor– no, this isn’t the Emperor right now. This isn’t even his old mentor and friend who always makes an effort to spend a portion of his very minimal free time with Kane, who enjoys splitting a bottle of mead and making fun of the other Coven Heads behind their backs.

This is someone Kane knew had always lurked under the old man’s skin but had only ever seen glimpses of. 

(The decade-old scars on Kane's back itch.)

The… the thing wearing his mentor’s face approaches Kane from behind, his gait and footsteps the same as they’ve ever been. The earth is cold and hard against his knees, even through the padding and armor.

“What is your name?” Kane asks, not turning his head.

“Philip,” He answers with a disturbing amount of eager honesty, like he’s been waiting years for the chance to say it out loud. “My name is Philip Wittebane.”

Kane nods in response. They fall into silence again. 

He almost wants to ask if Bel– if Philip is going to kill him. A stupid question to ask. It would be the same as committing suicide, because he’d be giving up control over his fate, just letting Philip forge whatever answer he pleased. Still, he’s burning to know if he even has a chance of leaving this room alive or if it’s foolish to hope. 

Kane wants to live. Titan below, he wants to live. He wants to do his work as the Golden Guard, he wants to bring order and peace to the Isles, he wants to keep teaching the Coven initiates and watch their potential flourish under his guiding hand. There's still so much more that Kane wants to do with his life. He could be so much more.

The boy sleeping under the dirt twitches a finger, dreaming of a world he’s yet to know.

“Do you name them?” Kane asks instead. “Before they’re…”

“Exhumed?” Philip offers.

“Exhumed.” He swirls the word in his mouth like wine. It tastes like rot.

“No, I don’t.'' Kane can see Philip's shadow tilt its head in consideration. “I can’t be sure if they’re entirely viable before their first breath. It’s a rather tricky process, making a Grimwalker.”

“Grimwalker,” He repeats, irreverent. “And here I was, still thinking those were nothing more than a scarytale parents tell their children to frighten them into not wandering off in the night.”

“Is that all they’re known as, now?” Philip hums in amusement. “A hundred years ago, Grimwalkers were more of a myth or a legend that one told over a campfire; the corpses of Basilisk victims so desperate to get their magic back that they’d devour the still-beating heart right from the chest of any unlucky witch who lost their way.”

He says it with the embellishment of a master storyteller. Even the false description makes Kane feel as if something is crawling up his spine.

“That could explain my preference for rare steaks.” He tries to joke, trying to make the tension between them loosen. It feels as easy as it always has been and Kane wonders, not for the first time in his life and certainly not for the last, if there truly was something deeply, irreparably wrong with him.

Philip gets a kick out of the joke, at least. He chuckles, his shadow cast against the wall shaking in mirth. “Ah, you never fail to surprise me, Kane. You’ve always stood out from the rest of them.”

Lie. Kane smiles, turning his head to finally look up at the man behind him. “One of a kind, right?” 

Philip hums again and smiles back. It's indulgent and gives the impression of a predator playing with his prey, despite how his pupils are disturbingly dark even in the low light. The way his eyes aren’t reflective in the dark like all other witches has always been unsettling to him.

“Stand.” Philip commands. Kane obeys, rising to his feet unsteadily. “Can I tell you a story?”

“It depends,” Kane studies his mentor with a piercing gaze. “If I listen, would it allow me to continue my duties?”

Philip's eyes widen, and he blinks down at his student. It’s not only a mild surprise, there– Kane’s actually shocked him for once. “You still wish to serve as the Golden Guard?”

“I cannot see any other path ahead of me that’s worth pursuing. All other roads lead me away from where I want to be," Kane explains. “And where I want to be is with the Coven.”

It isn’t a lie, not really, but it isn’t the full truth. The other paths that Kane could see had the odds stacked against his desire to survive this encounter. He would meet the same end in all of them, the same end as the ones before him who had also learned the truth.

Kane saw the list of names in the journal kept on the slab across the room. He read the reasons why he was here and not them.

(Doing the exact same thing over and over again and expecting different results is the definition of insanity.)

(The ones before him were all at least a decade younger when they were culled. If he had been their age, maybe he would’ve done the same. As it is, Kane is simply too tired and worn-down by life for outrage.)

Philip regards him with a raised brow and suspicion lined in his face. “And you expect me to believe you? After all the times you’ve betrayed me before?”

Kane has never once betrayed him. He has been nothing but loyal and they both know this– the implication that Kane is the same person as the ones before him is nothing but bait. It's only Philip trying to rile Kane up and accidentally reveal his true intentions.

What are his true intentions? Kane himself doesn’t even know what he intends to do. He knows what he should do, what the ones who came before him would want– but they aren’t here, are they? They were foolish and acted on instinct before logic and every single one of them died because they thought they were different and could do what many stronger and wiser than them have failed at.

No. There is no should do, would do, could do– Kane cannot hinge his own life on the wishes and failures of the long dead, no matter how much he wants to honor them. He is not them. He is not them . They all share the same blood and bone but Kane is more than the legacy they’ve left behind.

(For years, Kane has hated the haunted look his mentor gave him sometimes. It was as if he wasn’t even looking at him, but a ghost.)

The Emperor’s coven has always encouraged forging your own path to success. To climb higher above the rest using what the Titan has granted you. Kane is an empty-chested half-witch but he climbed higher than any of them just because the Emperor believed he could.

A memory comes to the forefront of Kane's mind, honey-sweet but foggy from the years and from his own intoxication in the moment.

(“I can never repay you for what you’ve done for me,” Kane said once, his voice blithesome and his tongue loosened from bottles of warm mead. “I'll give you anything you ask from me. Anything at all.”)

(“All I ask, Kane, is for you to remain by my side.” Philip, his face flushed from his own drink, had told him- because it had to have been him, the real him, not his countless facades. “Your friendship means more to me than you will ever know.”)

Yes, the Emperor is a liar. Always has been and always will be. Kane cannot deny this, because he has known from the very beginning. He's known for years and years and yet he still dedicates his life to him, because the man standing before him is the one person that Kane has ever loved. the closest thing to family he has ever known. 

Kane is numb to the lies Philip tells so easily. When Kane was still young and still cared about where he came from, his mentor would smile and give him nothing but falsehoods of a life he’d once had but lost, the one he was told he couldn’t remember. 

(“You and your family were attacked by wild witches,” The stranger explained when he was barely fifteen years old, while Kane gently prodded at the bandages on his head. “The coven scouts managed to save you, but… they weren’t fast enough. now both your family and your memories are…”)

(Kane had looked at this man sitting next to his bed and didn’t believe a word he said. But he wanted it to be true, so he nodded in acceptance and watched the man’s lips curl into the self-satisfied smile that Kane sometimes saw in the mirror.)

Also, Kane has never once claimed to be some kind of bastion of truth. Of course he’s lied before. A student always ends up reflecting the qualities of their teacher, after all, and neither one of them have deluded themselves into thinking the other is only ever purely honest, nor have either of them ever assumed entitlement to every little secret the other holds.

Yet they’ve both continued to trust each other with their lives, and even with things far more important, because at the end of the day, what would it even change? Having the confirmation that the story he’d been fed his whole life had been nothing but a lie truly did mean almost nothing to him. He’s never craved a life he will never have. He’s found contentment in the hand he’s been dealt. This was something he’d accepted a long time ago.

No, it’s not the lying he’s upset about. It’s the truth.

(Kane had collapsed to his knees the second he saw the child’s hand. He hadn’t reached for it only because he didn’t know if he’d have the strength not to dig him up out of raw instinct.)

It would be easy to lie to Philip and say he’s not upset about any of this. It would be so easy to tell him that he didn’t care about the other Grimwalkers, that he holds no sorrow or grief for them, or even that he hates them because of how they’d supposedly betrayed Philip again and again.

But lying is how they both got here, and he is tired of trying to keep up with all the lies between them.

So Kane takes a breath, looks Philip in the eye, and he tells him the truth.

“Do you think I care for you so little that lying to me could make a difference?”

Philip's face is an open book without his mask, especially now that he’s not also hiding behind a false identity. He cannot help but broadcast his every emotion and thought, even now. Kane watches as the extended shock before it melts into something… more personal. Something that has Philip searching, yearning, hoping that these words weren’t another lie to smooth his paranoia long enough for Kane to slip a blade between his ribs.

Kane knows his friend has been hurt by someone close to him before. Not just from the green scars of his curse that stripe his body, but also from the way Philip acts when it’s just the two of them, when they take off their masks and put away their titles. 

The downside of trying to hide your wounds from someone who knows you is that you often overcompensate and end up drawing too much attention to it anyways. It's like trying to hide a stain on a rug by removing the entire rug, only for the discoloration of the floorboards to give you away.

“I thought you would be more… upset over this,” Philip begins to circle him, and Kane represses a shudder at how closely he’s being observed. “How can you still wish to carry on working the same as you have, as if nothing has happened?”

“What else do you suppose I should do?”

“Leave? Run off in an attempt to find your own answers?”

“I'm too old to go on a journey of self-searching. That’s something for teenagers to do during their gap year between graduation and Coven applications.”

“Are you not even angry with me?” Philip frowns, stopping his slow tracking. “Do you not have any desire to lash out and kill me for what I've done?”

“My apologies, your Grace.” Kane drawls as he folds his arms behind his back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He doesn’t mean for his calm demeanor to fall but he can only take being doubted for so long before it begins to sting. “I didn’t realize being angry and wanting to commit regicide were the same thing.”

Philip tilts his head, a strand of his gold-grey hair coming loose and falling across his face. “You are upset.” He murmurs, finally taking notice. “Oh, you are furious over this.”

“What I'm furious about is that even after dedicating my life to you, you still question my loyalty over something as petty as– as this.” He makes a general, sweeping gesture at the entirety of the room. 

Another half-truth. Kane cannot think about the child underneath the earth and the dozens of boys and men who came before him and were seen as nothing but work oxen, or he may actually risk lashing out.

(Finding ways to pull the rage and sorrow from his chest can come later, when his life is not actively hanging in the balance.)

“Surely you can understand my concerns, my friend.” Philip inclines his head, spreading the fingers on one hand. “I have not lived this long by blindly taking even my most faithful at their word, nor by just sitting idly by and waiting for an attack when I could be taking steps to prevent it from ever happening.”

“How long have you– nevermind, don’t answer that.” Kane sighs, running a hand through his mane of chestnut hair. “I don't know how I can convince you that what I'm saying is the truth– because it is. It’s just… difficult, trying to find the words I need when you’ve probably heard my voice say them all before. In this very room, even.”

“...I have.” Philip admits quietly, looking at Kane with a faraway gaze. As if he is seeing the ones that Kane is currently standing in the very footsteps of.

“We… we are going to have problems to work out between us, after this. We might never return to what we once had together. But we can’t let this divide us," Kane raises a hand and clenches it against his chest. “Not now, not when we’re so close to eradicating wild magic and finally honoring the Titan’s will.”

Philip blinks and then blinks again. There's a second where he just stands there, staring at Kane with wide eyes and a slack jaw. His gaze darts rapidly between Kane's eyes, trying to find… something.

Whatever he finds must be adequate, because he lets go of the breath he was holding.

“Yes,” he whispers, then clears his throat. “Yes, you’re right, Ca–ane. We… we still have work to do, don’t we?”

Kane nods and then, impulsively, he falls to one knee, bowing his head in deference exactly as he has always done. As he will continue to do.

“I swear on the blood and bile of the Titan to continue to honor my oath as the Golden Guard. I will follow your will until the day I die, Emperor Belos. Philip Wittebane.”

Coward, his own voice whispers inside his head. You selfish coward. This is not honor.

It’s not, he agrees, pushing away his disgust. It’s survival.

“Rise, Golden Guard.”

There's a real smile on his lips when Kane meets Philip's eyes again. They’ve gone soft around the edges in the way he rarely ever sees, the crows feet at the outer corners more pronounced than ever. The bright blue stands out against the pale of his skin and the dark green of his cursed scars. His gaze is kind and warm, as if inviting Kane in and welcoming him home.

“My dear friend,” Philip croons. He reaches out to hold Kane's shoulder, squeezing affectionately. “I truly believe you are my best work out of them all.”

Horrifically, Kane can’t help but preen at the praise.

#the owl house #the golden guard #emperor belos #philip wittebane #caleb wittebane #golden guard oc #kane #grimwalker #the owl house fanfiction #the owl house fanfic #the owl house ocs #toh fanfic #golden guard fanfic #toh #my writing #my fics #fanfiction #fanfic

[tsundere-isopods]

Sorry not sorry. Here's another Izzy Hands post because I literally cannot stop thinking about Izzy and Ed and how their relationship functions.

So, we have the greatest pirate in History, Blackbeard, right? This absolutely larger than life, terrifying, powerful, bloodthirsty monster of hate and rage. His legend has made it where literally ships will surrender the moment they see his flag. Everyone is so scared of being so thoroughly devastated by him that they would give up and pray for a quick death. But, under all of that, we see Ed. Just Ed. This broken, deeply lost man who is so far gone in self-loathing and depression that he can't find it in him to just... be Ed. He's so "bored" (Don't get me started on that word choice in the script. I can spend days on that.) that dying seems like an adventure. He isn't sure who he is or where he stands. He talks about Blackbeard as if he isn't him, as if it is another person. But, ultimately, he can't separate the man from the legend internally either. (See the "You'd always see me for what I am." line in Ep.8)

Then, you have Israel Hands. Blood, violence, and rage seem to be all he lives for. He's ready to kill for Blackbeard at a moment's notice and would not blink twice. He'd probably die for Blackbeard just as quickly. He is the most devoted worshiper of the god and legend that is Blackbeard. Beneath that? You see an increasingly frustrated and angry person who just wants to protect his friend and doesn't know how to communicate that without lashing out. He tries to support Edward has because that's the only support he is going to get in a world where someone would slit your throat for glory and a few pieces of gold. He's seen all the ugly, squishy underbelly and knows that he needs to be armor to stop someone from killing what is possibly his only real friend.

There is a symbiotic yet parasitic relationship between the two. And it's all about Survival. They need each other and they are also going to kill each other.

We don't know how long they've been together. But, we know they have been together for a while. Izzy talks about the things he's done in Blackbeard's name "for years". I may be assuming here, but I'm sure that the legend reached Izzy before Blackbeard ever did. He has this idea in his head of the man he's sworn to follow and kill and bleed and die for. But, that's Blackbeard, not Ed. He's grown to understand what is beneath the smoke and mirrors. And he still stays and prays to the God he's chosen willingly to follow.

No one talks about why he stays. No one talks about how we have seen Blackbeard -and even "Edward", honestly- manipulate Izzy into staying time and time again, how a few pretty words and side looks is all it takes to make Izzy not climb in the dinghy, how he uses frankly abusive tactics just to keep him from leaving. Whether Edward does this knowing it's actually toxic and abusive or not, we don't know. But, that's what it is. No one talks about how Izzy needs Blackbeard just as much as Edward needs him. This man made a promise to serve Blackbeard to the best of his abilities, no matter what that is or who he has to cut down to protect him. Because he needs him. Whether that's as a purpose for living or self-preservation, I don't know.

And honestly, I think that is why Izzy stays. He cares about Edward, in some sort of messed up way. But that's not who his loyalty is to. He just wants to protect him, even if that means saving him from himself. And what Stede brings out is something soft, something weak, something that will get Edward killed if it shatters the Blackbeard persona entirely. Yes, he does some really manipulative and fucked up things to do that, but so does Blackbeard. He strings Izzy along with just enough hope and attention, just enough to keep him sated and close at hand. Because he realizes how much he does need Izzy. He needs someone to keep him afloat. And Izzy has been that someone for years. Izzy even says that he has put up with all of the shit because he swore to protect his Captain. Fuck, he sells out Stede with the promise that Edward is free to go, to protect him, when Edward chose Stede over him.

Now, suddenly, Izzy is no longer the tether Edward is clinging to. And Izzy is just lost. He's been loyal. Devoted. He's watching his God die. He's watching Edward die. And he doesn't know how to save him from this. A bullet? A stab wound? Physical trauma that can kill? Yeah. He knows how to deal with that. But all that armor, smoke, and mirrors that is Blackbeard being removed for one man Edward has known for a month? He can't get the attention back on him so he can save this stupid, reckless man from himself.

Yeah, you can take it as jealousy. And you wouldn't be wrong. However, you wouldn't be right either.

Neither of these broken men would know how to survive without each other. They don't have the skills to save themselves or each other from this deeply toxic spiral made out of a need to survive. They are horrible to each other, but Izzy does try to be patient and good to Edward. And it deeply saddens me that people make Izzy out to be this horrible person who gets off on manipulating Edward.

#izzy hands #our flag means death #ofmd #yes another israel hands dissection #i love to make jokes about putting him in a food processor #but honestly i actually really love him as a character #kind of got rambly and lost the plot #but seriously #izzy and ed are both toxic for each other #izzy apologist #sort of

[darkarfs]

I need to learn to love how I look post-shower. Fucking rained-on St. Bernard. (That's a Drumstick, which I got from my neighbor's freezer. I'm watching her cat this week while she's on vacation, and she said I could have a few.) I'd never been to a show at a college campus before. It was a 4,000 seat venue and it was almost completely full. And the crowd was exactly what you'd expect at that kind of show: the Venn diagram meeting place between anime nerds, stoners and metal nerds. We got there for opener Jason Richardson, a guy who did shred instrumentals with programmed blastbeats. Every song was indistinguishable from the other. He went on for too long. Totally admit going in that I only knew 5 or 6 Babymetal songs, but the ones I knew I more or less liked. I'm not a person who sees them as a novelty act, either, like "oh isn't that interesting, these Japanese pop-idol singers are fronting this riff-heavy metal band." The songs and performances speak for themselves, honestly, and the enthusiasm and energy are absolutely there. They choreograph the shit out of it, and they take it seriously, and yet...it's objectively very silly, and I like that. There's a video vignette at the start about how the infinite universe needs more love and free will and heavy metal in it, and these people want to bring it to us. There's footage of ruins, the desert, the world as seen from space, the Ouroboros, animals chasing one another. It dissolves into this vague "the universe at play, the cosmic ballet" sort of thing, and I take solace in the fact that metal never lets go of that imagery, ever. It shouldn't. Pretend metal is the music of the universe loving and strangling itself, always, because it really is, and I always wanna lose myself in that mess. They didn't do "KARATE," my favorite song of theirs. But they were giving 100% of themselves, and I admire commitment, even if I only knew 5 or 6 songs. Dethklok are currently Brendon Small, a tiny woman in spandex whose name I missed (I think it was Nili?), a bass player, and drumming legend "Atomic Clock" Gene Hoglan. And they are...listen, I've been going to metal shows since 1997, since my freshman year of high school. I've seen Cannibal Corpse, Opeth, Sepultura, Between the Buried and Me, Megadeth, Mastodon, Gojira, Slayer...these are maybe the tightest metal band I have ever seen play. And I think that has everything to do with the fact that they have to play to match the visuals on a giant screen behind them, and it was millisecond-precise, airtight. They're basically playing note-perfect live versions of every Dethklok music video you've ever seen, in real time. You'd need Gene Hoglan for that. FaceBones addressed us twice on the monitor, reminding us to stop being such dickfaces for not showering when going to shows and that we're all friends because we smoke weed. Smalls also took the time to address us as every character he voices on the show. He could do Pickles and Skwisgar, but his Nathan suffered because he had just sung 7 songs beforehand. Not blaming him for that! This is probably the only show I'd ever been to where I knew the words to EVERY song, too, which is weird to think about. Like, even when I saw bands I loved like Motorhead or Gwar, there's always a song I don't know, or a deep cut they do that I'm not familiar with. I knew all the Dethklok stuff.

So much fun. Good to be among the enthusiastic metal dorks, universally the best and most accepting crowds on Earth. Did a shirt count, and other than the two bands performing, the most represented band that I saw, weirdly, was Megadeth. Shout-out to the girl dressed as Dr. Rockso. People being let out to get back to their cars looked like the opening to Gravity's Rainbow. On our way back to the car, I overhear this conversation: Guy behind me: "Those visuals on those two songs were from the movie that just came out." Other guy: "Oh, there's a movie? Where can I watch it?" Me, turning around: "KIMCARTOON DOT ELL-EYE!" GBM: "Well, I'd like to pay them to watch it, yeah?" Me: "Oh, well, in that case, you can rent it on iTunes." Other guy: "Oh, well, fuck that, I'm not going through all of that." Me: "Y'all can't have it both ways, dudes!" An incredibly fun and lovely evening. Glad I did it, glad I had good company for it. I'd do it again.

#Christopher Willits - Pentagonal

[atlafan]

They say that lightning never strikes twice, but that’s just a myth. Lightning can, and often does, strike the same object more than once. It’s a mistake a lot of people make, which makes them an easy target for the worst kind of lightning to strike them. That being the crew of The Thunderstroke pirate ship. Most pirates attack, evade, and vanish, but not the pirates of The Thunderstroke. They tend to circle back in order to leave a lasting impression.

Legend has it that their ship can survive any storm. Whether the waves are over two-hundred feet high, or lightning is striking fast and hard, The Thunderstroke makes it out without peril. It has a lot do with the fearless captain of the ship, Harry Styles. He’s rarely seen. If you see him, you’re already dead. The rumor is that he’s been struck by lightning, which is why he has a large lightning bolt tattoo that starts from the back of his neck, wraps around to the front and down his chest. How low does it go exactly? One could only be so lucky to find out.

Captain Harry Styles has wanted posters at just about every port in British owned territories in the Caribbean. He’s constantly defying the crown. He does what a lot of people talk about wanting to do. But he’s not Robin Hood. He’s not stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. He’s stealing from the rich, and keeping it for himself and his crew. There are a few places the ship can dock without harm. Harry will usually cover up enough to hide his tattoo. He put his long locks into a low bun and blends in with the crowd. To the untrained eye, he looks like a working man.

Even though it’s nice to dock for a bit, get some supplies, and get their rocks off, the crew prefers to be at sea. There’s nothing quite like it. Everyone pitches in to keep the ship up and running. Sometimes they cast anchor near another ship and board for fun. Many ships are out at sea for a party of some kind. A little makeup and some different attire can help them blend in when needed. But other times, when they come across a ship of the crown’s…well…the men that live to tell the king what occurred are the lucky ones.

At least, they think they’re the lucky ones. Lightning can and does strike twice, remember? Harry usually lets a few people go to spread the word, then he finds them again and finishes the job. It’s sick, but he gets off on seeing how pathetic and scared the proud people of the British crown look right before they die. They never show mercy to the common people, so why should Harry?

He’s a ruthless fuck who women often swoon over when they see his wanted posters around town. Elodie understood it. Harry’s long, curly locks and chiseled features can leave a girl imagining all sorts of things for hours. Most girls her age fantasize about being a stowaway on a pirate ship. No rules, no overly tight clothes, and all the open air you can breathe. Elodie longs for it.

[THUNDERSTROKE COMING TO PATREON ON FRIDAY, 5/13 @ 8AM EST]

#thunderstroke #piraterry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles x oc #pirate!h #harry styles fanfic #one direction fanfic #1dfic #1d imagine #harry styles smut #fic #fanfic #lhh

[theboost]

Can’t bring myself to watch the finale of due south, so for the two people who are interested, here are my thoughts from when I was watching through

Due South insanity moment where vecchio gives a long speech to his sister in which he tells her to stay away from fraser because she’ll only get hurt and guys like fraser won’t even notice and then she responds by telling him that he’s afraid to dream. How am I supposed to take this

Obsessed with Fraser having a sleepover with his childhood hockey bestie. I think they should practice kissing with each other. I’m such a gay fraser truther I’m sorry but id take him and random hockey guy over him and Victoria

I think paul gross just has a resting smirk which is something you don’t see too often but it’s really making this funeral scene unintentionally humorous. Buddy you couldn’t muster a frown. I hate you Paul Gross, you live action Disney prince. That is a term that gets thrown around a lot but it’s true for him

100 percent still a gay fraser truther. Why are they having romantical ten- SORRY LIEUTENANT THATCHER JUST HIT HIM WITH A DAMN BITCH YOU LIVE LIKE THIS- romantical tension between fraser and thatcher. I don’t like it. She’s so mean to him all the time. He needs to get with a real man like Ray. I don’t really think you can put a guy like fraser in a relationship with his superior officer the chain of command would fuck him up. But they just keep mashing them together like Barbie dolls. I don’t get it. Also I kind of don’t like Francesca I’m sorry women…

“Ray, get in the closet” “Benny, get out of the closet” real dialogue. I don’t even need to make the joke. “I was in the closet with detective vecchio” I could end it all

Are we really doing another season finale where they’re getting framed by someone who one of them put in prison who recently go out and now seeks revenge. I guess if it ain’t broke. Okay so it’s not a season finale arc but still. It’s weird that it happened twice

CAN WE STOP PUTTING POOR GAY BOY FRASER - henceforth referred to as gayser when he is into situations wherein I want to emphasize his homosexuality - IN FORCED STRAIGHT SITUATIONS LIKE I KNOW THAT HE DOESNT WANT TO PLAY DOMESTICITY WITH FRANNIE. And she really needs to get with a woman

Girl a clip show for the season 2 finale? Come now. Also this is why starsky and hutch will always be a show made to hatecrime the watcher while due south uplifts you, because starsky and hutch did the amnesia plot line but hutch faked it. Because he’s insane.

“Alone we’re incomplete” truly insane thing to say about your best friend. Season 2 has really solidified by theory that ray is an out gay man to himself and no one else and he performs heterosexuality as a cover and gayser is just really truly deeply closeted because there were no gay people in a 100 kilometer radius growing up in the yukon. Also “benny, I could kiss you” “I thought we were just friends, ray” “we are” hello??? Hello???

Okay what the hell is going on with Ray K. You weren’t lying. 2 episodes in and he’s asking if Fraser thinks he’s attractive.

“All women are our sisters” I LOVE YOU FRASER. FEMINIST LEGEND.

I still gayser truth of course but as far as love interests go I don’t mind this bounty hunter milf

I don’t love that ghost dad was made a main character I liked him more when he would randomly pop up and I think they use him too much but I do love his little office set. And I do love that ghost dad is a character that exists

I don’t really care for the fact that one of kowalski’s defining traits is his love of police brutality. Come on due south. You used to understand that police violence is bad

I’ll be honest this is one of the first American based shows I’ve seen that promotes the idea of Canadian exceptionalism. And like it wasn’t initially like this as, see my last point, due South used to know and show that both the Chicago police and the mounties were corrupt, with Fraser being the worlds most special guy, but later seasons are like “all Mounties are inherently virtuous supermen”

Detective Huey and Fraser narrative foils in that both of them lost their first gay partner and then proceeded to get even gayer with their second partner. I do love Huey. And Dewey’s strange ways bewitch me I think he should hook up with turnbull

Women love to ask Fraser if they can trust him and then kiss him. Non_threatening_boys.jpg

Whenever Scott Bakula sings on quantum leap I cheer and clap like a seal and whenever paul gross sings I shriek and cover my eyes and say kill yourself

Every subplot to Mountie Sings the Blues makes me so happy I love huey and deweys stupid ass country song and I actually think Francesca/Turnbull is cute I’ve actually been hoping they would do it

I’m so sad due south got canceled right after the Fraser sister reveal I want so many more episodes with them hanging out

One thing about Fraser is that his love interest will be a brunette woman. Frannie, Victoria, Thatcher, milf bounty hunter and- sorry I looked up the poker episode to remember if the poker chick was brunette and sure enough

[bestworstcase]

Regarding Cinder and the silver glare, do you have any thoughts about what's really going on?

MANY

one of the key things that interests me about the silver eyes is how little we really know about them compared to every other kind of magic (“magic” here including supernatural abilities that the characters do not conceive of as magic)—and how much of that is explicitly guesswork and legend.

so this is what we know:

1. silver eyes are a heritable trait

2. the silver glare is empowered by the desire to preserve life (and by extension, grief.)

3. the glare petrifies grimm, but not always permanently

4. the two children ozma had with a regular revival-humanity woman both have silver eyes—possibly suggestive of a link to one or both gods, either darkness (via the original-humanity magical gift) or light (via whatever modification he made to ozma’s soul to facilitate the reincarnation).

5. every single named/noteworthy silver eyes character we’ve met thus far has been soaked in thematic or symbolic connections to death; grim reaper imagery etc.

6. silver eyes have also consistently been symbolically associated with the shattered moon, itself a symbol of original-humanity’s decimation and revival-humanity’s resurrection

7. death itself, on the spiritual level, occurs in an infinite white abyss; living souls can briefly enter this realm if they are connected to the dying, as we’ve seen in the case of the maidens, and power can be passed from soul to soul in these moments

8. in v4, ruby dreams/experiences flashbacks of pyrrha’s final words and the last word pyrrha heard cinder say, even though ruby wasn’t present to hear this exchange.

9. maria believes that the glare can only activate against the grimm—hence the general assumption that cinder’s grimm hybridization is what makes her vulnerable

10. maria also speculated that the ability is a gift from the god of light, on the grounds of the brilliant flash of white light he emits upon transformation into a dragon and its obliteration of the grimm. however, the ability is also intricately and inextricably anchored to love, to connection, to grief, to the desire to preserve life because life is precious—all things that the god of light not only lacks but harshly punished and perceived as arrogant defiance.

11. salem makes the strong implication that cinder’s vulnerability to the glare is connected to her newfound power—and i’m inclined to think that’s true, if characteristically vague and cryptic.

12. cinder has been hit by the full force of the glare TWICE—once atop beacon tower, where it burnt her left side so badly that she lost an eye and most of her arm; and once in atlas, where it didn’t appear to harm her whatsoever other than perhaps some lingering pain in her grimm arm. in 7.13 she escapes after the light hits her:

& this feels significant because cinder is more grimm in 7.13 than she was in 3.12; so it doesn’t make sense for her to escape the second glare unscathed—unless her vulnerability to it isn’t just being grimm.

13. likewise, the hound was damaged but not destroyed or petrified by the glare and—well the person inside was already so fucked up that it’s impossible to say with certainty whether the glare injured him more, but it doesn’t seem to.

and i will add further:

14. “for it is in passing that we achieve immortality. through this we become paragons of virtue and glory to rise above all, infinite in distance and unbound by death” suggests a cultural association between death and transcendence, and is explicitly called back to in the opening song for the volume in which we learned that humankind went extinct as a consequence of divine execution and then came back somehow, still human but lacking the blessings of the gods—blessings that always came with strings; ergo, revival humanity is free. unbound by death, in the literal sense.

so with all of THAT in mind my general thought is that the silver eyes might have arisen from the death and resurrection of humanity, possibly in the form of latent potential kickstarted by the inkling of magic ozma’s silver-eyed children inherited from him; and that the brilliant white light of the glare is in fact the same white light in the liminal abyss where the living and the dead can touch. it resembles the power wielded by the god of light because the gods are the raw material from which humanity was formed, but it’s not his. it’s the profoundly human desire to live and defend the lives of others, and the anguish of death that goes hand-in-hand with that desire, made manifest.

and i don’t think it targets the grimm as such; my theory is that the glare attacks agents of death—thus, the grimm, whose sole purpose is to hunt and kill humans, and also people… tainted? by fleeting spiritual connection with a person they’ve killed.

i think being grimm in and of itself does make cinder vulnerable to the glare in general—certainly it seems to always cause pain in the grimm arm—but that’s not why the glare hurt her so badly on top of beacon tower. because what happens mere seconds before cinder loses her left arm and her left eye to the glare?

she uses her left hand to kill pyrrha, and we see this act reflected in ruby’s left eye as she witnesses the murder of her friend.

so those are the things ruby’s magically-empowered grief takes from her.

#this one also lives on the #‘grimm corruption is a smokescreen actions and choices are what matter’ pile

[mrssimply]

4th: Fontaine

I decided to do a fic advent calendar this year, and idea that was given to me by Bones a.k.a Riots from the Totentanz Discord Server.

You can find the prompt list here.

Every fic will be posted on my AO3 Account here.

This one is for @thornwild, his prompt was: smut in the M/M pairing of [my] choice involving pee kink of some kind cause you got me good with that golden shower you wrote a while back and I need more

So mind the cut if it's not your thing! this one is "smut adjacent" and contains dirty talk.

The door slams open, and out stumbles a legendary rockerboy. Nowaday, very few people recognise him, which at the moment is a blessing because he’s drunk off his ass. His hand, the chrome one, finds purchase on the wall and he takes a moment to test his balance. It’s all the time V needs to join him, face flushed from the heat inside of the Coyote Cojo and the alcohol. They don’t share a body anymore, but they’re still attached to the hip. 

“Man, I told you to slow down, your body isn’t used to it anymore.”

Johnny grunts, straightens and then starts walking toward the back of the alley. He thinks he’s walking straight to it, but nothing is straight about him anymore. With a laugh, V follows him.

“I don’t need you to fuckin’ piss, V,” Johnny says, trailing a hand on the wall for support. There is a trash container in his way, forcing him to walk around it. He staggers under V’s mischievous gaze as his momentum takes him to the other side of the dirty passage. 

V catches him, leading him behind the metallic tank.

“Think you do, actually. Couldn’t go to the bathroom like normal people?”

“Normal people were queuing. I don’t queue, V,” Johnny painstakingly explains while facing the wall. There is a moment where they stand here in silence, V holding Johny’s wrist and the man pitching forward and backward like on a boat. 

“You need to open your pants, Johnny.”

The rocker grunts, throws a glare over his shoulder but his gaze is so out of focus it only makes V laughs. A bubble of pure affection rises inside of him for his friend.

Here he is, the man who could move thousands just with his voice, who stormed the Arasaka tower twice, who died and then came back, who’s seen behind the blackwall and lived to tell the tale. Here he is, drunk as fuck, fumbling with his fly in a backalley. 

A legend he might be, but he’s still just a man.

Johnny curses and V can see he’s about to rip his pants open in frustration because his chrome thumb keeps ripping against his button.

“Aw, really?” V sighs before stepping up to open the pants himself. Johnny looks at him doing it with a little smirk.

“I knew you wanted in my pants.”

“Oh shut up,” V growls, zipping the fly down. It hits closer to home than he likes.

Johnny’s final return is recent, and V’s health is still a work in progress, so they haven’t really broached the subject of… The things V feels, Johnny feels. They feel. Maybe feel. He isn’t sure anymore.

Isn’t a promise to die for each other the bro equivalent of a declaration of undying love? V should probably work on his classic male friendship tropes, because he might have interpreted things the wrong way.

As it is, he stops there and takes a step back to let Johnny do his thing. Instead of taking his cock out, he’s staring at V with an expectant look which makes V blushes.

“Oh c’mon!” The merc mutters, “Not your mom.”

It works: Johnny pulls a face and pulls his dick out. He’s half hard but V knows he’s practically always in that state of semi-arousal: the list of the things that turn him on is long.

Johnny widens his legs to gain stability but it’s a lost cause, he’s still rocking back and forth and the picture is so ridiculous V takes pity. 

He slides behind the man to make him lean against his chest and circles his waist with his arms. V hesitates, but Johnny lets his dick go and just puts his hands over V’s wrists to guide him so the merc does it. Gently, he grabs Johnny’s cock with one hand, and slides the other one lower around his balls. 

The rocker sighs and leans more of his weight against V, becoming pliant in his arms. V’s heart is beating hard and fast in his chest, and something in his mind sort of clicks: this feels strangely right. He puts his chin over his friend’s shoulder, smelling his musk, the sweat and the cold tobacco fragrance that is just him.

Then Johnny lets himself go with a groan of utter relief. The sound he makes turns V’s insides into hot lava, and he can’t help his little gasp. In his hand, Johnny’s cock is practically vibrating because of the pressure of the stream.

It goes on, and Johnny lets out a soft moan as the relief makes him sag further. Then he turns his head and nuzzles against V’s jaw, making the man close his eyes and tilt his head the other way to leave him more room. Johnny doesn’t need further invitation to softly bite his trachea. And still, he’s peeing, the liquid ricocheting against the wall and adding to the mess of the back alley. Involuntarily, V tightens his hand around Johnny’s balls, making the man grunt and shift, pushing against V’s hand.

“Don’t move,” V breathes because he’s trying to keep their shoes out of the splash.

In answer, Johnny gives him another bite and a huff, like the impatient man he is.

It seems to go on for a long time, and all sorts of thoughts stream through V’s mind. How he wants to put his hand in the direct line of the golden stream, how he wants to rub it all over Johnny’s belly, how he wants to tell Johnny to hold it until he allows him to release.

Johnny laughs like he heard the thoughts, but he stays put and watches disinterestedly as his bladder finally empties completely. 

They stay like this even when he’s done, V is incapable of moving away. What he wants to do is to make Johnny kneel down in his own piss and make him suck him off.

What happens instead is that Johnny smirks, pushes him off, turns in his arms and marches him backward until V’s back hits the opposite wall. 

Johnny’s face is close, and his eyes are clear again. His eyelashes lower over his cheekbones as he looks at V’s lips, and then straight at him.

“Next time,” he starts, sliding his chrome hand against V’s neck, “I’ll make you kneel in front of me, naked and tied up, and I’ll shower you like that, and you’ll say thank you, right?”

V’s mouth falls open under the surprise because it’s really like Johnny read his mind.

“Hm,” Johnny continues, nosing V’s cheek before dipping right to his mouth. He speaks the words against his lips.

“Next time I’ll fuck you, I’ll cum inside you, and then I’ll fill you even more. Gonna take it all, huh? Until you’re dripping wet and fuckin filthy with everything I can give you?”

“Fuck,” V shudders, closing his eyes. 

“I’ll mark you as mine like an animal, is that what you want, V?”

“Yes,” V all but beg, eyes falling open again.

Johnny’s gaze is dark with desire, but it feels warm — affectionate would be the word but V doesn’t dare use it. Still, the rocker’s chrome hand moves up to hold V’s jaw.

The kiss the young merc receives is surprisingly gentle, and over too soon. 

Johnny pats his cheeks a bit condescendingly, but that makes V smile because it’s absolutely Johnny, and it’s reassuring in a way. The rocker steps back, stumbling again after his surprising bout of clarity.

“Wanna go home, V.”

Taking a moment to gather himself, V racks a hand through his hair and nods. He steps up to Johnny and, looking at him, holding his gaze, tuck his cock in, zip him up and close the button. The other man winks at him, then throws an arm over V’s shoulder, bringing him close for another sloppy kiss. Their teeth clash, the merc grunts and gentle the embrace for a second before leaning back.

“Yeah, I think you had enough.”

“Nah, not even close to enough.”

#johnny silverhand #Johnny x V #Johnny x male!V #silverV #male V #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #fic advent calendar #my writting

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Fucking shocking. He was 84 so it shouldn't be, but it still feels shocking. It felt like he was immortal.

He's the most impressed I've ever been to just be in the same physical space as someone. I saw him live twice, both times headlining folk festivals that featured other big names, once including Ian Tyson, another absolute legend of Canadian folk/country music who also died recently and that is too many in such a short time. But Gordon Lightfoot was different from all of them, even the other really famous ones. Of all the many people I've seen perform at many different folk festivals, Lightfoot is the only one who's ever had me texting a friend just to say "Gordon Lightfoot's here." Like that was the amazing part. The show barely matters, it's just amazing to be able to say "Gordon Lightfoot's here", to be on the same patch of grass as someone who cast that big a shadow. He's not just a singer of Canadian folk music, he fucking invented it, at least in its modern form.

I'll be honest: neither performance I saw him do was great. Because he was old and frail even then and they were both more than ten years ago, so this shouldn't be surprising. But he seemed like an omnipresent entity, I think I sort of expected him to outlive us all.

#Youtube

[dballzposting]

hey do you know that post that is like "evil infodumping where you just tell lies" "older brother"? well that reminded me of an idea i had the other day

but since the Son family lives in the middle of el campo yknow i got thinking that they might believe on this one folklore leyend "la luz mala" (the evil light) that tbh just spawns in the forest and honestly older people use it to make little kids not go into the forest alone so i think Chichi would have told that to both Gohan and Goten

And whereas Gohan found out it was fake the second Piccolo threw him in the middle of fucking nowhere? I feel like Goten still believes it simply because he never got the explanation of why la luz mala happens and he hasn't gone to the forest alone because he listens to his mom you know, Gohan has tried to explain it to him once or twice but he doesn't think their mom would be too happy with that so he doesn't outright tell him;

Like he tries to give hints into the thought process that it's not real but Goten doesn't catch them and Gohan doesn't try anymore because at least his brother isn't going into the forest at night alone idk.. In the end it's not like he lives like that all his life he eventually finds out it's just a legend but he does live most of his childhood or teenage years believing that there is fucking spirits in the forest until idk Trunks gives him the scientific explanation on why lights spawn in the forest to make himself look smarter and then he goes to Gohan and Gohan is like "He's right and i've been trying to tell you most of my life" and Goten is like that picture at the end of the comic of the guy that wakes up from the dental surgery anesthesia and tries to fit his own fist in his mouth as fast as possible and then looks so distressed when they stop him

But i mentioned the evil infodumping older brother thing because the second Trunks finds out he's going to try to make Bulla believe it, not for any noble reasons he's just messing with her, and i feel like that would be hard to do but he could pull it off if he was feeling mischievous enough at the time, like going to "DAD HOW DO I MAKE AN ARTIFICIAL MOON" extremes, but it only works if he's a kid i don't think teenage Trunks has the energy to do that, if he was a teenager he would tell her "It's real, i've seen it, Goten too, ask him" and exudes the confidence he does that could make you believe that a jellyfish is 90% piss if he told you that (real thing i did to my internet friends btw i dont think any of them fact checked it until i told them it was fake a year later)

also about Gohan again: future Gohan would tell future Trunks about it so he doesn't go into the forests alone to train or something at night because he can't watch him or defend him in case anything happens to him just like Chichi told him so he wouldn't get hurt when he was a kid, so future Trunks believes in la luz mala until he gets older and maybe when he goes to the past he talks to present Gohan about it and Gohan tells him how "Yeah it's not real but my mom didn't want me going into the forest alone in case i got hurt" and it actually sinks in and he realizes that's also one of the many ways Gohan tried to protect him back when he was alive, and that worked even beyond that because Trunks didn't go into forests at night again did he?? (he goes in the day time and maybe he pets some animals like a disney princess but not at night, maybe he grows out of the habit once his timeline is at peace and he looks at the stars because they're pretty and who doesn't like stars)

and maybe he doesn't cry about it once he knows and remembers the man who practically raised him alongside his mother and that he's admired for most of his life but maybe he just does a little sad slightly shocked face and thinks about it while looking down at the ground because he looks like does that a lot for some reason

its 3 am i should go to bed uhh thats a @yu7i moment, saludos desde argentina

I do not know that infodump post but I can extrapolate details + the joke so we're all good

THIS . IS SO . REAL!!!!

I don't know the anesthesia post either but again it all makes sense anyway

Maybe all of my lovely followers know those posts in question so maybe they love this post as well

Goten is like NO SPIRITS? like the megamind NO BITCHES? meme.. IT'S A LONELY WORLD OUT THERE when there are NO SPIRITS TO WATCH YOU HURRY OUT OF THE WOODS AT DUSK ..!!

Astute comparison between kid Trunks and teen Trunks .. I never would have cared to think it ... as a kid he has fun going sooo far for a prank but as a teen he has the ability to just sound so completely legitimate in one sentence that he doesn't need a whole set-up, and he would rather not have to put the time in anyway ....

So true about Future Trunks . . . . that is a bittersweet and profound experience unique to him . The other dragon ball guys don't get that . And when Trunks was young, he thought that Gohan was old, because that's how kids think. But now that he's 17 he realizes that Gohan was not that old, but he still did so much for Trunks .. and he had the tact to get Trunks to not go into the dangerous woods at night by using the same trick his mother had used on him .. if Trunks had a child that he had to be responsible for in his life then he would use the same trick now. And thats sort of completely beautoufl . Beuaotufl. Sorry. Beuaotuifl. Beautiful

Thank you for sharing as always

#dballz posting #dballz asks #YU7I

[borom1r]

For the asks you just reblogged: lawrence, eric, peter (or strahm. whichever sounds better hfmsbsns) & mallick!!!

Lawrence:

Headcanon A:  realistic — ok ok ok ive seen it come up in art n im sure fics as well every now n then but i rlly dont think Adam could talk Lawrence into going to a pride event. i think the first time he goes is for Diana. and i think its just. so big for him? seeing his daughter making friends, and winding up at the end of the day decked out in bi flag merch + compared to how he grew up and the perceptions of queer people he was exposed to. its not even like. For Him, this huge fucking wave of emotion, but moreso that his daughter has grown up so much more open and joyful than he got the chance to. she doesn't have the weight of the world on her shoulders and he couldn't be prouder or more relieved.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious — Adam is the reason Lawrence drank wood. (to clarify: Adam decided to make shakes for them both and, while making an oreo shake for Lawrence, stuck a wooden spoon into the blender while it was still on. he couldnt see any chunks of wood so he decided to just leave it be. later, while drinking, Lawrence bit down on what was Supposed to be a piece of oreo. it was instead, in fact, fucking wood. this is coming from lived experience. please know I am Lawrence in this situation.)

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends — hey do u wanna hear the worst headcanon. hey. hey. Lawrence Does Not Feel Guilty About Leaving Adam In The Bathroom <3

John indoctrinates Lawrence into a system that feeds his craving for purpose and structure and Lawrence does not think twice. I think it says very interesting things abt him VS Mandy.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own. — in a perfect world Lawrence played along w/ John only long enough to get himself safely to a hospital + then showed up later and beat John to death with that torture device of a fucking prosthesis John tried to force onto him. peace and love on planet earth, baby

Eric:

Headcanon A:  realistic — idk how realistic this really is but i also dont care u will pry trans/autistic eric from my cold dead trans/autistic hands. especially the autism side of things i see soooooo much of myself in him it makes me fucking insane

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious — ok entirely based off Donnie Wahlberg himself, the man the myth the legend, Eric can sing SO WELL and has a weakness for pop music. even Jigsaw himself couldn't make the man admit it out loud but dear god. when he's alone in his car? BLASTING the tackiest 90s boyband shit imaginable

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends — Eric was raised in an abusive household. idk this has come up vaguely in other meta ive posted but that quote, "if you grew up with an angry man in your house there will always be an angry man in your house"?? yea.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own. — i feel like this is literally all of my softer meta abt Eric but it makes me happy and goddamn do i love him. Eric gets pet rats as soon as he can post-IV + definitely has had multiple "I put the rat in the fridge and went to put the butter in the rat cage" moments. thankfully, this just means his rats get to ransack the cheese drawer unsupervised for a few minutes every now and then

Strahm:

Headcanon A:  realistic — he has a wedding band but is not actually married. the one (1) time he splurged on himself it was to get people to stop fucking asking why he’s not married/if he and Perez are dating/when they’re gonna make it official. there? are you happy? he bought a ring now shut the fuck up.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious — Peter Strahm: Good With Children. Literally Cannot Comprehend This Fact. Diana has declared him like, her 6th favorite person (after Larry and Allison and Adam + Allison's partner(s)— I love Allison/Tracy/Rigg so much so yknow) and he has No Goddamn Clue Why. lord help this emotionally stunted, dense fucking man.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends — he doesn't replace things unless they are near unusable. why waste the money? he doesn't deem himself worthy of comfort.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own. — Perez buys him gag gifts a lot. or like, not GAG gifts but shit that’s definitely making fun of him a little. by far his favorite is a trucker hat that says “retired don’t ask me to do a damn thing” he wears it regularly when he’s not working

Mallick:

Headcanon A:  realistic — he used to bite his nails sometimes bad enough they’d bleed. reeeeegularly had bandaids on his fingers for a long fucking chunk of his life

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious — FURRY FURRY FURRY FURRY FURRY FURRY im a Mallick Scott sparkledog fursona truther

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends — Brit is dead and that’s the only reason Mallick sits and listens to Bobby’s bullshit. he lost the one person keeping him going. he lost himself.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own. — REAL MALLICK SCOTT ARKIN OBRIEN COUSINS HOURS. I FEEL LIKE CHARLIE FUCKING PEPE-SILVIAING IT UP OUT HERE BUT THEY ARE COUSINS AND YOU CANNOT CHANGE MY FUCKING MIND

#ask #BESTIE THANK U

[mikecuenca]

Trash Heap Souvenir No. 4

The Cuencas:

         I’d get out of grade school around 3pm. My dad would scoop me up and bring me to his office. He was an accountant. His own business. And his office was sandwiched between what at the time was a Guitar Center and this Chinese take-out place called Koo’s.

From the backseat of my parents’ car windows I’d see a bunch of musicians with multi-colored hair and leather jackets lurking around. They were punkers but my mom referred to them as “hippies”, not knowing what that actually meant.“You better not grow up to be a hippie!,” my mom would warn in Spanish.

Followed by my dad going, “Son unos delincuentes.” [“Bunch of delinquents.”]

But who could blame them? All the gangs in ‘80s movies were punk! Think about it: TERMINATOR, POLICE ACADEMY (the series was a staple in my living room), doesn’t matter, whatever, we can list them off.

Now, the way my dad became an accountant is sort of funny. And this is all hearsay ‘cause he never shared anything. Well, save for two stories:

One about his dog when he was a kid getting scared shitless after a bottle rocket went off. He spent hours looking for the dog, worried sick. Found him dead of heart failure hiding under his bed.

The other tied into his fear of scorpions.

No, not the band. The creature.

“Wind of Change” rules. I will blast that. Right now.

We were watching HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KID and you know when that huge-ass scorpion appears? My dad shivered and turned from the TV to the newspaper (he always watched TV with a newspaper sitting on his gut) going, “No jodas!” The nearest translation being something akin to, “Fuck off.” My mom then taunted him. That’s my family. All ball-busters.

Now, this is a lady who nearly faints every time she sees any sort of reptile. You show her a rubber snake and she screams. When ANACONDA came out, it was her nightmare. I asked her once, “Well, if you’re so scared of snakes how’d you do on your wedding night when my dad pulled his pants off?” Hahahahaha! She turned red, all embarrassed that I said this in front of her friends, who all started howling, by the way, and she yelled out, “Muchachito! Coño! You with that language. The same as your dad!”

You have no idea how much she freaks when a lizard rears its scaly hide. During our second short stint living in Miami, Florida she’d have me smack all the lizards that would cling to our backyard screen door with a broom before she’d enter the kitchen that accompanied it. I will always associate the Disney animated short THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW with this ‘cause she had pulled me away from the haunting TV screen to go take care of these cold-blooded fiends. She was scared of lizards? Well, that Headless Horseman scared the shit out of three-year-old me so thank the heavens for this vicious chore. Americanos made their kids do their dishes and take-out the trash? My Cuban mom made me go gangbusters on these fucking things. WHACK! FWAP! PAP!

Oh, and my aunt, her sister Irene (pronounced Ee-Reh-Neh), same reaction but to cockroaches. Had a blast showing her the cockroach segment in the first CREEPSHOW once. Muahahahaha!

What is it with this whole fainting spell amongst my family when encountering certain species of the animal kingdom?

My dad’s scorpion story goes— and I added this to FRENCH NOVEL as one of Hue’s voice-overs but I pulled it from the final cut— there was this local café where he grew up in Guantanamo, Cuba. Apparently, a scorpion got into the coffee grinder one morning and all the people who drank that batch died of poisoning. This horrified my dad as a kid. And it stuck.

But, no, that’s as far as it went when it came to his past. I watched SAVING PRIVATE RYAN with him at home when it hit video and he had to keep turning away from our big screen TV, going, “You wouldn’t understand.” No, I wouldn’t understand. Why don’t you tell me?

I’d only seen my parents kiss once. And I’d only seen my dad cry twice. Actually, no, three times:

When I showed him DANCER IN THE DARK (my sixth time watching it, probably). When the credits rolled he turned to me with red eyes and said drily, “Why did you show me that?”

And when his brother died. And when his mom died. News from the homeland.

We visited Cuba in 1994. I documented most of it on our home camera. I have the tapes now. My dad hadn’t seen his mom since he left the old country. She had Alzheimer’s, didn’t recognize him. He fell on his knees, trying to remind her who she was. If he cried then he didn’t let me know.

During that trip I met my dad’s childhood best friend: Orlando.

As an adult my mom would remind me, “You remember Orlando? He sends his regards.” How could I forget him? “He’s always asking about you.”

Orlando passed some odd years ago.

When they were kids, my dad, Heriberto-- Beto, for short---

Oh, shit. Oh, yeah, he’d say, “You know why los Americanos don’t get their taxes done here? (Because my parents never referred to Caucasians as white people; they referred to them as ‘Americanos’, just how all Asians are ‘chinos’, and so on and so forth) Because they see my name and they read ‘Be-to’ and think of ‘Vi-ro’ (‘virus’ in Spanish) and run away.”

…what?

Stupid dad-joke that doesn’t translate well. And I’d just roll my eyes. And of course, with my dad, if you didn’t laugh at his joke he would repeat it thinking you didn’t get it the first time.

“No, we don’t laugh ‘cause it’s terrible,” Lida, my sister-in-law, would say.

--but Beto and Orlando dived into a river. Orlando jumped in head first and hit a rock and went deaf for the rest of his life. So he’d communicate by scribbling on little bits of paper.

We were drifting on this small boat in what could have been the same river and Orlando pointed out to me all these homes surrounding the canal, scribbling: YOUR DAD HAS KIDS ALL OVER HERE.

And my dad turned pale and blurted, “Don’t tell him that!” Then to me: “Oye, don’t tell your mom that. Won’t hear the end of it.”

I didn’t repeat shit. “Look at that! My dad was a slut,” would have thought eleven-year-old me, had I such thoughts.

Orlando wasn’t toooooo far from the truth.

One day CHRISTINA comes on. Christina was (is?) what Oprah is to English-speaking folks. She had a guest on. This soap actor. We hear this voice coming from the TV that sounds just like my dad. My mom yells out, “Look at him! Look at him! Identical!”. I go up to the TV with my dad. This soap actor, a popular one at that, I’d have to ask my family what his name is, is there telling Christina that he’s never met his father, doesn’t know who he is, and he mentions his mother’s name and my dad turns that same familiar pale he turned when I was on that boat with him and Orlando.

“I had relations with a woman of such moniker.” That’s the more poetic, broken-English way of putting what he said.

My half-brother Betico (Beto Jr.) went back to the motherland a couple of decades after he escaped with his family on a raft.

Quick note, with Cubans, if there are two people with the same name the elder keeps their name but the younger one gets an ‘ico’ appended to it. Actually, it doesn’t even matter if there’s two of you. If you’re younger in general you get it. Or if your mother’s senile as hell you’ll still get it even though you’re a grown-ass person. But first they have to call you by everyone’s name first until they get yours right. So, my brothers Angel and Osvaldo (who prefers to go by his middle name ‘Luis’) always, to this day, get called Angelito or Osvaldito by our mom, and me, I get Michaelito. It’s ridiculito, if you ask me.

Since my two full-blooded brothers and I are so far apart in age, whenever Angel (the eldest) would take me around town, people would confuse him for my dad. But Betico? Dude, I look more like him than anyone else in my family. Striking resemblance. Both lanky and tall with bad posture and messy/curly hair. Eerie, I’m telling you. I take after my dad more anyway, while Angel and Luis take after my mom. I get my lips and nose from my mom, everything else from my dad (including his dad-jokes and sometimes temper). But my green eyes, my green eyes I get from my grandmothers on each side who were both named Lydia and both had blue eyes (my cousin Maritza is the only person amongst my big large family to have light-colored eyes). You can argue that my eyes are kinda blue, and kinda green.

“Linger on, those pale blue eyes.” – Lou Reed.

Betico was hoping to locate his mom. In layman’s terms, the woman my dad knocked up. He learns that she’s dead and had a son. Another son with my dad. And that she was the village prostitute (I hope to fucking God no one translates for my mom any of this stuff I’m jotting down).

Turns out my dad’s other illegitimate son is named Orlando. Orlando, I repeat. He was named after my dad’s childhood friend. And when I meet him in person in 2016, briefly, as I was traveling back from Guatanamo to Havana, I’m immediately transported back in time because he looks just like how my dad looked like when I was growing up. You know, when I think about my parents, because I wasn’t close to them as an adult (I keep in touch a lot with my mom now) and rarely visited them, I imagine them just as how they looked when they played a large part in my life… twenty + years ago. I am just blown away. Same mannerisms. Same voice. Everything.

Heriberto died before he ever got to meet Orlando. Betico’s discovery was news to him.

And see, my dad wasn’t this macho dude. He was a hard worker, provided for his family, drank like a bandit on his off-time, and was a gambler and ballbuster who sometimes went too far, to be Frank. But he still didn’t like to show any vulnerability. Except for when he passionately and dramatically recited poetry aloud (I could post a video). Maybe not until his last years when he turned from commanding dude with dagger-like eyes to Mr. Magoo did he let people come see the softer side of Sears. So, as backed by Betico’s detective work, he never shared shit about his youth.

Everything I know about my dad I learned from my mom, or my aunts, or my uncle. Mainly during that 2016 trip:

My mom’s sister, my mom being the youngest of her siblings, Nuerka (pronounced Nee-Ooor-Ka), told me, “You know how your parents met?”

“I know that story.”

“Yeah, your dad saw her from afar and he was infatuated with her. He was crazy about her! Love at first sight! Believe me. He was twenty-five and she was fifteen.”

“Wait a minute, I thought he was twenty-five and she was sixteen when they got married.”

My uncle, also named Angel, “They were eleven years apart.”

Aunt Nuerka, “Ten.”

Me, “I thought it was nine.”

“Ten.”

Uncle Angel, “Eleven.”

Me, “Whatever.”

Nuerka, “Point is that he was obsessed with her and she would run away hiding, going, ‘El Viejo! El Viejo viene!’” [“The old man! The old man is coming!”]

One afternoon my dad kissed my mom during a screening of a Brando movie she was attending with her sisters. She ran home in a panic, crying, thinking she’d been knocked up. Because back in those days, as seen in CINEMA PARADISO, whenever a couple would go to kiss, the frame would cut, and next thing you know they were married with a kid. That’s how naïve my mom was. You get knocked up by kissing in her world. Heriberto and Arelis got married shortly after. And soon? They had my eldest brother Angel and, two years later, Luis.

As the timeline shows, all my dad’s dirty deeds which produced offspring children were committed in his late-teens or early-twenties.

Nuerka added, “Your dad never strayed after he met your mom. And I wouldn’t tell you a lie. He talked a lot of shit. He whistled and howled as most of them do. But he never strayed. I guarantee it.”

But…

The way my dad became an accountant (thanks for getting back on topic, Mike) was HE pretended he was mute. He pretended he was mute because to this day my mom doesn’t know how to speak English and my dad never learned either! So he took community college courses that they didn’t offer in Spanish and would never have admitted him into in order to get his certification to become accountant. But because my dad is my fucking dad and he had a booming voice and loved to spin yarns and command the stage and dare not a soul derail him, he was chatting away on campus with friends and a professor over heard him. Caught red-handed. But because he was so charming they let him pass.

And now he owned his own business. Enough to support my mom and this total accident of a kid. Anchor baby, they tell me. Meet my mom and the first things out of her mouth to you while pointing at me will be, “Accidente.”

She doesn’t mean harm. In a way, she’s delighted. She kind of laughs nervously when she says that. But it’s like, gee, thanks. Thanks for reminding me I was never meant to be here. I mean, are any of us planned? Aren’t the majority of us accidents? Sure. Some are. But she nearly died when she had me. She wasn’t supposed to have me. She was too old. They had to cut her open. And she chose to have me than to live, against my dad’s wishes. Enter guilt-trips.

By the time I was five my brothers were married, awaiting, or about to have, children of their own. So, what do you when the kids have flown the coop and now you have to start all over with this pain-in-the-ass, overly hyper, spouting gibberish a mile-a-minute child?

You plop him in front of a television set and tell him to behave.

My mom was a babysitter and also cleaned houses. I used to have this big red scar under my left eye until my mid-teens. There was this two-year-old my mom was sitting. And he was in his crib. But that little shit had these long, sharp fingernails. I went over to play with him and the motherfucker ripped the skin half an inch underneath my eye with his talons. I bled everywhere. Screamed. Cried.

Luis would joke, “Hey, the Yankee Scarface!”

Well, actually, Luis, the original Scarface was Italian. But I didn’t catch the Howard Hawks one until later.

But most of her life, my mom didn’t really work. Lots of health issues. Bad health issues. But during this time she was cleaning offices or rich people’s homes and on those days I was stuck at my dad’s office. Just watching the clock turn. Just as I did at school. Nothing to goddamned do. No, I could be at home right now catching the last five minutes of GILLIGAN’S or WOODY WOODPECKER and tuning daily, same bat time, same bat channel for some WHIZ! BANG! POWS! in all its four-color Adam West glory. But, nooooo, here I was marooned with the TV always set to Univision for all of my dad’s Spanish-only speaking clients, broadcasting its CHESPERITO and CARRUSEL nonsense; shows I wanted zilch to do with.

But, thankfully, there was this typewriter sitting there, plain as day on an abandoned desk. And, boy, was this kid bored. And, boy, did this kid have a wild imagination…

#trashheapsouvenir

[overlyspecificmcrmemes]

All time low jon bellion

anonymously send me a song(any song) and i will reply with one of these pictures ✨

#seen him live twice a fucking legend that one #overly specific mcr memes #answered #anon