#without an ounce of love or empathy towards them

[infiniteorangethethird]

I don't know where this "if you don't feel love/empathy you're evil" idea comes from like if you can only be decent towards people if you love them/feel empathy towards them then I'm pretty sure I'm not the one mistreating more people of the two of us

#decency lies in actions not emotions #it matters little what you actually feel we can only see what you do #you can be all “i love you” but if you're acting shitty ur still a shitty person #whereas you can be the kindest guy out there who helps ppl bc it's fun #without an ounce of love or empathy towards them #aromantic #aro #loveless #loveless aro #loveless aromantic #low empathy #no empathy #queer stuff

[writersminagerie]

Never to be seen again

Fandom: Baldur's gate 3

Characters: Orin the red, Enver Gortash, Ketheric Thorm, Vesper (Durge)

Ships: Durgetash

Warnings: Mentions of murder, mentions of blood, mentions of violence, suicidal thoughts

Synopsis: The dead threes chosen were meant to have a meeting to discuss their plan and move forward into a new phase. However, when Orin shows up without her sibling things get messy.

__

It was an important day, and Vesper, of all people, was late.

And honestly even if it hadn't been a pivotal moment in the plan, their tardiness was cause for concern. The Bhaalspawn was always so punctual, annoyingly so. Gortash drums his fingers on the table, avoiding Thorm's annoyed gaze, and stares intently at the meeting room's door. As the time ticks by the Lord lets his mind wander to the possibilities. Vesper losing themselves in their work, delving into the blood and viscera of their victims with a frenzied excitement of a starving Gnoll. Bhaal coaxing them to be more brutal, more violent. Them Gloating to their sister about how they had caused a more haunting scene than she could. The weapon of the God of Murder.

How bloody would vesper be when they finally showed up? Gortash would undoubtedly have to push them to take a bath before bringing them to bed. If he could convince them that is, otherwise his silks would be ruined.. again. Damn assassin was lucky Gortash was so smitten.

Finally the door opens, and in walks Orin. Her grin was particularly disturbing this evening, the glint of happiness in her eyes was beyond anything mere killing brought her. Gortash suddenly got a cold sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He keeps looking at the door, waiting for Vesper to follow their sister. Begging silently that the fear taking hold was just an over reaction. The changeling began to laugh at him as she sits herself down in Vesper's chair.

"What is so funny?" He snaps finally turning his attention towards the pale woman, "get out of your siblings chair Orin. You stand."

"You look like such a helpless pup," Orin's smile grows wider ignoring the order to get up, "waiting for its master to come home to share scraps from a hunt. Ah.. but they're not coming." The feeling of cold numbness spread through Gortash's body, he manages to remain stony faced.

"What do you mean they're not coming?"

"Just that, lordling. They're not coming. They're dead and gone. Flesh cut to ribbons, their blood watering fields and feeding rivers. Their corpse left for the flies."

Gortash shoots up so fast his chair nearly topples over. Orin is watching him, daring him to try something, begging him to give her a reason to skin him. Ketheric was quiet, but Gortash swore he saw a little tinge of empathy in the elf's gaze. Loss was something they were all familiar with. No. This was a lie. It has to be a lie.

"You're lying."

"I'd thought you'd say that," Orin coos and draws a dagger. She plunges it into the table and leaves it for Gortash to examine.

A slightly curved steel blade, guard inlaid with blue stones, a worn handle wrapped in black leather, and a silver pommel shaped like a dragons head. It was Vesper's. Gortash had it made for the Bhaalspawn, a gift, and a promise they'd rule Faerûn together. The man reaches out and pulls the blade from the table. He refuses to fall apart in front of the other. Refuses to give Orin that satisfaction.

"How?" he asked.

"They'd gotten sloppy, they lost our fathers favor, and I'm taking over now," Orin sounded far too delighted. It took every ounce of self control to not take Vespers blade and plunge it into the Changling's throat. She had done it. There was no doubt in Gortash's mind. As much as he wanted to kill her for taking away his love, he couldn't. the brain needed the three stones working together to remain under their command. They wouldn't be able to find another suitable wielder on such short notice.

Orin was necessary. At least For now.

"Seems we have a set back and won't be able to advance just yet," Gortash said, "Ketheric you will keep massing your armies.. and Orin.. seems you'll be the new representative of your father. Duke Ravenguard will be arriving at Waukeen's rest tomorrow. we'll have him on a leash shortly."

"Just a setback?" Orin sounds amused her brow quirked. "I'm impressed at your callousness, I thought you'd be more... broken. Crying over your lost plaything. But perhaps you'll just get a new one."

"We have work to do Orin," Gortash growls, gripping the dagger tight. "Return to your duties the both of you. I will figure out a way to keep things running smoothly." The man turns on his heel and storms out of the meeting room without letting either of them speak further. He manages to keep his cool up until he enters his study. as soon as the door locks the rage and sorrow hit him like a tidal wave.

Gortash lets out guttural screams, cursing Orin for killing the only person who showed him anything other than brutality. Cursing Vesper for leaving him, for destroying what little happiness he had. How dare they make him care only to disappear! Without a word without letting him say goodbye! He goes on a rampage through the room, tearing up projects, smashing chairs to splinters, flipping his desk, scattering papers and ink pots. All he could see was red, the emotions consuming every fiber of his being.

He had no idea how long his rage lasted. Only that when it was over he was completely exhausted and every inch of the study was completely destroyed. The man sinks to the floor, he was still holding Vesper's dagger. He regards the weapon a moment, testing the edge against his thumb. The Bhaalspawn kept the edge razor sharp, it didn't even hurt as the blade drew blood from Gortash's finger.

It would be so easy to join them. Just draw their sharpened blade across his throat and let darkness take him. This whole plan had been both of their ideas, they had wanted to rule together. They spent countless hours bent over books drawing up their plans and spent countless nights tangled up together figuring out how to get the stone and the crown.

What was the point of building an empire if you lose the one you wanted to build it with?

A shudder ran through him, he could sense Bane's presence in the back of his mind. The god was quiet, but his presence alone was enough to make Gortash hesitate. There was an air of anticipation, daring the man to go through with his foolish little plan. To die and face the consequences. Bane would consider his death a failure on the man's part, and Gortash's soul would burn for all eternity in Bane's fires. And that realization brought on a new one that nearly made him sick.

His soul belonged to Bane and Vesper's belonged to Bhaal. Gortash would never see them again.

Not in this plane or the next.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #enver gortash #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 durge #orin the red #bg3 orin #bg3 fanfic #fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #durgetash #gortash x durge #baldur's gate iii #tw mentions of violence #tw: mentions of murder #ketheric thorm

[bluetooththereptile]

If you're going to do yandere ror could you do Poseidon, Hades and Qin Shi Huang(I think that's his name?) Like they feel in love the moment they see reader (G/N) *I really like Poseidon, it's kind of sad that Sasaki Kojiro slice him like he was going to make a sushi 🍣🍣*🥹🥲

Yes! I will! You are early and I'm in the mood! So consider yourself lucky! Though I'll just do the two brothers since I don't know Qin much.

Also thanks for requesting dearie! Feel free to ask for more, I'll be doing headcanons/short stories for them though.

Posideon

Let's be honest, for a man like Posideon it's not strange of him to be interested in someone just with a glance, just like Zeus he has his fair share of a large harem of lovers, his precious wife giving birth to so many nymphs for him, locked up in their castle under the sea while he, well, enjoys himself with the beauties of the surface. But no one will think of him as a player at the first glance, the blonde is emotionless and cold, but beneath that mask is something more, a beast hidden behind the mask, and most of the time that beast is not so gentle.

He killed his brother, he forced himself upon Medusa and cared less about what it did to her, his wife is locked up by him, he doesn't have an ounce of empathy for creatures that are beneath him, which is mostly anyone, yet he cares, his family is important to him, he does care about them, he let his brother live after he nearly destroyed his body, showing even if he's ruthless, he's not entirely mad. He has his wife under control since he fears for her safety, he cares for his children, and many wars happened because he was enraged by their deaths.

But it's not good news for you, no my dear, the moment the reflection of your pocket watch catches his eye, and he notices your frame, his whole head turns around, his attention now fully focusing on the little human that is witnessing the battle, Ah, you must have been a little more important in the society of those pathetic ants since you were there, your soul still wandering the afterlife, he had to admit, now in flesh, he hadn't had seen a dead soul could interest him. He had expected of his brother Hades, he lived with the dead daily.

Without his intention the corner of his lips curled upwards in a smirk as he beckoned for one of his guards, whispering in his ear to let him know you are not allowed to leave unless you are brought up to him, the tyrant didn't care about your opinion, he had to have you in his presence.

"Up!" "No dear...not right now...I have to put the eyeliner on-" "Up!" Looking at your reflection in the mirror you groaned as you picked up the little nymph and put her on your lap. "Happy now?" The little one nodded as she hugged you close, sighing as she inhaled your scent. "She picks up after her father...if he didn't demand you on his lap all the time you wouldn't have to hug the little ones one by one throughout the day. " Amphitrite said as she walked into your chambers, raising her hand to stop you from standing. "Put the formalities aside, young one, I have gotten used to my husband's shenanigans a long time ago. Now that you are trapped here just as I am, I can't add to your misery, can I?"

You smiled at the queen of the seas, though your smile faltered as the tall shadow of your "lover" appeared on the balcony, his habit of not coming from the doors was bothersome. "Look at you two...my meek little darlings...such a blissful sight" You couldn't help but blush at the words, earning a sympathetic glance from the queen, who could see how time had worn you down, making you vulnerable to posideon's words. He walked up towards his wife first, kissing her forehead gently as he touched her swollen belly, before shifting his attention towards you.

His eyes softened even more as he leaned closer, putting his hand on the eyes of his little daughter and making her groan, he kissed you on the lips, letting out a satisfied hum as you leaned into it, If your new attire and look didn't show him, your eagerness was enough for him to know you were anticipating his attention. After years of solitude now you were another treasure on his staff, now you were his, safe and secure, only for him.

Hades

Hades is a passionate man, the amount of respect other gods bestow upon the oldest of the Olympian brothers is immaculate. He is the true king, having the end of the cycle of life in his hands he rules the dead. The most wealthy of the gods, yet, he seems to lack something. Even if he has the love of his life, Persephone beside him. There have been tales of him looking for someone else to fulfill his desires yet Persephone's jealousy had proven to be disastrous.

For thousands of years, Hades tried to refuse the urge to look at the "gifts" of the world above, where nymphs and mortal beauties danced and sang. Persephone, the pale queen, had noticed it, and now that he was under so much pressure with his realm and family, she knew she had to change the pace of their relationship. They both needed something new, or rather someone new. She wanted to spend some time alone with her mother, away from married life, yet she couldn't leave Hades on his own, if he was left alone he'd come and kidnap her again! So she thought of a solution, And what was better than looking through the souls that were in the like of resurrection?

Hades dwelled in his thoughts without noticing a figure in a robe approach his seat, not until their voice made him snap out of the trance. He picked the goblet from the tray, noticing the alluring aroma that the cupbearer had around them, he turned his head, his eyes widening slightly as the most delicious looking being bound their head at him. Persephone knew that her love potions were strong enough to fascinate Hades, but she didn't think much of the consequences of giving such a delicacy on the verge of starvation to a man like Hades, his passion burned like fire as he took in the scent of the cupbearer again and again.

He asked for your name, and the mortal in front of him spoke, telling him that the queen had assigned them his "personal" cupbearer. You dared to look at your master in the eyes after you finished your sentence, your heart nearly leaping out of your throat as you locked eyes.

"Y/N" Hades's voice echoed in your ears as he gently held you closer, you tried to push back the fog that was clouding your mind from the sweetness of his words that were filled with magic, you didn't want to lose your last chance at making him get over his "love" for you, you tried to reach out to the bottle of the antidote by the nightstand, but Hades's strong arms held you in place. "Shhhh...little one, don't bother with moving, let me care for you...I have been away for oh so long!" You cursed under your breath as you tried to not inhale much of the scent of the flowers that had filled the air, but you couldn't help it, you needed to breathe and that made you hate Persephone's filthy games even more.

The silver-haired God buried his face in your hair and took a good sniff of your scent, his mind now completely off of its logic as the potion was now fully activated by the pollen of the flowers of lust. You had thought that hades had let go of you months ago, forgetting you had existed, but no, he had to come back and ruin everything with his "love" for you. "Please! It's for both of us! Snap out of it-!" Hades only sighed at your words and shook his head, combing his hair with his hand as his weight held you down, ignoring your struggles, with a sigh he kissed you deep, muffling your protests as the pollen made your mind go blank. He wasn't going to leave you, ever again.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere records of ragnarok #yandere hades #yandere posideon #yandere god #gender netural #yandere anime

[hersterical]

soul lore in Buffy is finally beginning to make sense in my head (give me a break, I didn’t watch the show until COVID and didn’t start taking part in the fandom until at least a year after that). A lot of this is basic stuff the fandom’s been saying for years, this is just to help get my thoughts in order before I fall asleep and lose the train of thought.

There are a few important elements but I think the two biggest ways the lack of a soul influences a vampire is 1. No moral compass and 2. No empathy (as we see mostly with Spike but a few others as well, they can have sympathy but no empathy). I also don’t get the impression that soulless vampires are capable of true, selfless love. Again looking at Spike, whenever he loves someone pre-soul it always felt possessive or like he wanted to be possessed by someone. Sure, he sincerely wanted certain people he cared about to be happy, but he didn’t want them to be happy just for the simple sake of them being happy. At best he wanted them to be happy because being around them makes him happy and it’s his happiness that truly mattered to him. So if there ever came a time where the happiness of the person he cared about didn’t make him happy anymore, then he wouldn’t care about their happiness. This is mostly based on Spike because he’s the vampire we have the most opportunity to understand while he doesn’t have a soul. To me it seems that all soulless vampires could be placed on a scale from Spike, who possesses the most amount of sympathy and derives the greatest amount of happiness from the happiness of others, to Angellus who doesn’t have a single ounce of sympathy and actively takes joy out of the misery of others. Most seem to tend closer towards Angellus’ end of the scale and I wanted to explore that a bit.

Before I do that though there are some important things of a more physiological nature that would influence vampires both with and without a soul. The first is that I’ve always gotten the impression that a vampire’s primal, predator instincts are more heightened and animalistic than humans. The way I see it there are two main explanations for this: 1. Those instincts come from the demon that possesses the body or 2. Something about becoming a vampire allows them to access the human’s dormant predatory instincts. I’m no evolutionary scientist so I can’t say how likely that second one is, but no matter what it’d be far from the hardest thing this show asks the viewers to suspend their disbelief for. The other thing about vampire physiology has just little enough evidence to support it that I would probably have to classify it as a headcanon. I am convinced that human blood is an addictive substance to vampires based on how secretly being fed Connor’s blood influenced Angel.

With all that said, I’d like to take this opportunity to explore the after-life span of an average Joe vampire.

Imagine you wake up and it is dark, cold and suffocating. But none of that bothers you because more than anything you are hungry. No living being has her possessed this great hunger that you are experiencing right now. Not even being capable of conscious thought at this point, you start clawing. Eventually you dig your way up to the surface where you either have your sire waiting for you, holding in their arms the greatest smelling meal you’ve ever smelt in your whole life, a human, or no one and you need to find something to eat yourself. Even if you find a small animal to eat that’s not enough to satiate your all consuming hunger. No matter what you’re going to get your first taste of human blood as a vampire that night. And it is the greatest thing you have ever tasted. Sure, you had to kill someone to get it, but you don’t care. As you finished eating and stared at the corpse of a human being whose heart is no longer beating because of you, the closest you get to regret, shame, or guilt is the surprise that you don’t feel any of those things.

That was the best thing you’ve ever experienced but you still don’t have a particular desire to kill people. You might even avoid it for a bit in order to avoid attention or out of habit. But even if you actively don’t want to kill another human for whatever reason, you can’t get the taste of their blood off your tongue. The thought of human blood consumes you every waking moment of your life, which is quite a bit considering you don’t need to sleep anymore. But whether it be in a day or a week or a year, you will kill another human. This time you do care. Not that they’re dead, no. But in that moment as you took their life force and made it your own, you have never felt more powerful or in control (ironic considering vampires actually tend to lose control while drinking human blood). Even with all of this great supernatural power you’ve been gifted with, nothing is as powerful as taking a human life. And the blood itself. It feels almost like your rapidly fading memories of warm sunlight on your skin, gentle instead of burning. You’ve never been particularly power hungry before so even though that part might be cool, it doesn’t hold a candle to the sensation of drinking blood. Whatever hesitation you might have had towards killing humans is now gone. But that still doesn’t necessarily mean that you want to though.

You go and visit your loved ones from when you were alive, but when you get there all you can think is how weak you were. How dull the life of a mortal is. How nice the warmth of the sun was on your skin. How it felt to be loved. How it felt to be willing to give your own life and happiness for the sake of someone else’s. It fills you with rage, disgust, and even jealousy for your old self. You take your power back and get rid of any reminders of who you used to be.

Time goes on. Decades pass. You feed, you travel, and you learn. And you grow bored. What was once an exciting after life is nothing but pure drudgery. Even the taste of human blood is becoming common after so long of living off nothing but that. What hasn’t gotten old is the chase. The hunt. That power you once got a taste of but didn’t particularly care for at the time is the only thing that can make you feel anything. Humans are no longer tasty little juice boxes, they’re your play things. The adrenaline from the hunt turns your hunger for blood, into a hunger for power over people.

Eventually the chase grows stale. It’s just too easy. You try to spice it up by toying with humans. Making them scream or beg. But it’s still not enough. That’s when you hear about it. A hellmouth. A slayer. Both together in the same place. One of the greatest sources of power for a demon alongside with the greatest challenge any vampire could hope to face. It’s more powerful than any siren call, how could you possibly resist. Sunnydale is waiting for you.

You get there and between the influence of the hellmouth and the group think of a ridiculous amount of vampires and other demons, it feels as exhilarating as the dance floor of a crowded nightclub. Which is funny because the local nightclub is where you do most of your feeding.

You lead your latest victim out into the back alley, and start feeding. You are once again growing bored even on a hellmouth with the prospect of facing a slayer. It’s just too easy. These are your thoughts when you hear someone clear their throat. This surprises you enough to pull you away from your meal to see a small, blonde girl who’s dressed for a night of dancing. Dessert. Except something’s off. She tilts her head and outs on a mock pout as she asks if she could just get one night off. You don’t like her attitude, her face looking far too smug for your taste, and her blood is singing out to you like no blood has ever done before. You feel almost as hungry as the night you crawled out of your grave. Tossing aside the barely alive human you were just feeding on, you eagerly lunge at the small woman.

She punches you in the face. Hard. You fall to the ground and scramble back up as quickly as possible as you’re filled with a sudden certainty. “Slayer!” You snarl with equal parts shock, anticipation, and fear.

“Is that part of the vampire handbook or something? You guys really gotta get some new material.” She says in response.

How dare she? The insolence! You’ve drained the life out of hundreds of humans before her. You are immortal. Invincible. And she just dismisses you like you’re nothing? She will learn. You are the night, you are fueled by the life-force you’ve been draining out of humans for decades. You’ve seen things this little girl couldn’t think up in her worst nightmares. You have purged yourself of all weaknesses and now you will obtain the greatest power any vampire could ever hope to possess, the blood of a slayer.

You run for her, your claws reaching for her.

You are immediately impaled. As you crumble to dust you hear the last words you’ll ever hear: a half-hearted quip about you not being the dance partner she was hoping for tonight.

#long post #it went from being meta to being a fanfic partway through #btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #Soul lore #angel btvs #spike btvs #angel the series #ats

[twothpaste]

Thoughts about Porky?

my thoughts on porky are such a vast tangled web of forever spaghetti that i'm not even sure where to begin or what to pin down. the premise of a tormented child ascending to near-godhood out of sheer misanthropic spite towards the whole wide world makes my brain do backflips like a sea world dolphin. i'll ramble a bit about him.

he's ness' foil. just two chubby kids who probably grew up with their (un)fair share of bullying. the only thing distinguishing them was the familial abuse porky suffered, which he inevitably regurgitated. then destiny comes along, choosing ness over porky, and the jealousy just eats porky alive. watching his bestie accumulate friends and accolades, unable to accept it's his own rotten behavior that's driven a wedge between them. gotta imagine the burden of cutting porky off was almost unbearable for ness. somethin' that keeps him up at night, wondering if he'd just been a little kinder, or sterner, or more understanding - maybe he could've saved his old friend? not quite yet realizing it was Not At All his responsibility to "fix" someone who'd dug his grave and laid in it. porky's the kinda bad guy you love to hate, but considering his upbringing, you hesitate to blame the poor schmuck. all he knows is authority and manipulation. if you gave any ornery ostracized thirteen year old unlimited power - instead of empathy and guidance - they'd probably go down the path of vengeance, too.

he's lucas' foil. both of 'em were given plenty of reasons to hate the world. when faced with an unhappy childhood, do you choose love anyways, and move forward? or do you let it become your villain origin story? porky refuses to grow up, to such an extreme degree, that he's gotta drag everybody down into neverland with him. thinks he's got human nature all figured out, when really - kid dropped out in eighth grade - his expertise starts at the middle school lunch table and ends at Lord of the Flies. where lucas seeks to bring about a brighter future, porky's terminally obsessed with the past. barfs up the same old hierarchical capitalist bullshit he grew up with. hoards memorabilia. makes monuments to his warped nostalgia, as if anyone on the nowhere islands knows or cares. even tries to mold lucas into a makeshift ness - one last final battle, one last chance for destiny to stop me, here, take this baseball bat, come get me, let's play. but it doesn't worrrrk, because the gilded past he aches for is long buried, and these people aren't actors in his self-aggrandizing biopic. where lucas wakes up and says, "i don't have to be the same coward i was yesterday," porky says, "me? change? not a chance in hell." even if it costs him everything. porky's real worst nightmare is a world that moves on without him. once he's trapped in his time capsule, that's exactly what he's got in store.

i think he's the sunk cost fallacy incarnate. the sheer momentum of a thousand horrible decisions he can never turn back on. earthbound porky might get a little bit of slack, sure. but given a bazillion years worth of opportunities to change, mother 3 porky actively chose to get worse. what fucks me up most is how real he is. can't call a villain like this "insane", or even terribly exaggerated, when i'm lookin' out the window these days at billionaires, covid deniers, fuckin' terfs and maga hats. some people really would sooner die, or become all-consuming monsters, than admit they were wrong. it's all or nothing. in his eyes, either he's a visionary hero, or everything he's ever done was irredeemably reprehensible - and all the torment and criticism and loneliness he endured was therefore deserved. he can't bear the weight of it, so he simply doesn't. that's what underpins his character, to me. like. the moment he'd admit fault, or apologize, or express an ounce of regret? he'd cease to be porky. denying himself the human capacity to grow, forever, just to spare his fragile ego. could almost pity him. almost.

a perfect villain for both of the stories he terrorizes, and my favorite villain in anything ever. when itoi said "porky is truly a poem in himself" he wasn't kidding.

#ask tag #2thtalks

[soulntes]

THE TRUTH UNTOLD - PROLOGUE

[THE TRUTH UNTOLD SERIES]

the life of pandora is an experience very phenomenal. to be able to witness personally gives you a different perspective of life itself and.. when you start growing to loving her so much, very impossible to ignore the harm it's done on her.

humans on earth only hear stories and news about the planet from their televisions and papers about 'their new earth'. as well the indigenous inhabitants living there but it includes pieces of lines explaining their hostile personalities and unwelcoming behavior. how would any human feel empathy towards the navi of their situation of sharing anything of their home when all they done is discover a new way of life, wanting to bring a whole species to drive them out?

scientists do. they learn and teach but nobody lends an ear for a learning experience about the connection their people have for their mother planet. most humans don't want to. not when they destroyed their mother out of greed, money, power, and superiority. why would they care when they already destroyed beyond repair.

it is all about perspective. time to wake up and face the truth. those who want to learn, they learn and use it to survive without expecting to getting anything in return.

those who a dream about a new life learn to love and embrace their new them.

the sully sister dreamt of a new beginning. away from her past and agonizing pain which she trained hard for years has finally paid off. her dream of loving another became vibrant and clear of what her path will be.

her dreams of flying through the wild life, running on branches and plants that grew to be felt down her feet, the sun setting to watch the stars to reach it's brightness, shining above her and.. someone else.

their blue four fingers grazes softly on hers to bring them to his lips for a peck. the soft, tender kiss melted her heart by how gentle he treated her as he looks at her with those yellow eyes of love.

this felt like a lovely warm spring when flowers blossom with a fresh start in their lives, enjoying the sun feeding them life and exploring their experiences in person.

it seemed all but a dream.

sooner or later.. you're gonna have to wake up.

the military trained woman participated in the avatar program was offered a once life time opportunity for humanity to discover.

she wanted to leave earth because of how human treated their mother over the years. instead of helping her heal and reemerge her beauty, they kill her more for money and power and selfish needs until she no longer exists.

her instincts dedicating her teenage years to study what is beneficial from dr augustine's book about the navi. nine foot tall, dark shade of blue the aliens appeared as with four fingers, big pointy ears, and a long tail. their appearances look alike towards a feline but they have a lean, slim figure. hair decorated of beads and styles to their liking representing their image that'll be vividly know amongst their clan.

their culture surrounding solely on their great mother eywa who's connected to all living things and their guidance in life that takes a huge role in their entire lives. traditions around the birth of their newborns and journeys that are remembered with songs and story telling surrounding the greatest accomplishments.

everything on pandora seemed lively with how much you get to discover with your very eyes. falling in love with a bond so sacred and meaningful developed something she wished that happens on earth and be with the one you love for all eternity.

feel the love, every single touch, any ounce of pain, and their thoughts about you in their eyes that hold eternity.

but it was a better experience to go to the wonderful, one of a kind planet and witness the beauty of it personally.

nobody knows what awaits in the forest of mystery and love to unravel.

deep within nature was a man, a mighty warrior, in his lonesome time awaiting for a sign to protect the people and those he cares for deeply. for his heart broken yearned something he's been dreaming of, out of his reach. then he starts dreaming a woman. a strange dream walker by the look of her hands offering to accept.

a woman's touch is a remarkable sensation when you feel the love and affection and appreciation of their efforts. a woman who'd dedicate herself into providing happiness and warmth in his toughest times. a woman who he's never met and a man devoting his life to protect his people.

her presence made it all so nerve wracking by her beauty compared to the stars of the darkest eclipse. her joyous smile that he only sees.

a hand out of reach not knowing what awaits them and wait for their time to come as it's all planned by the great mother herself, not bearing seeing those sensitive to suffer and the strongest to ignore their wants.

until they meet in a few years.

TAGLIST

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @misscaller06 @theunfortunateplace @im-in-a-pansexual-panik

#tsu'tey #tsutey #tsu'tey fic #tsu'tey x oc #tsu'tey angst #avatar tsu'tey #tsu'tey avatar #tsu'tey fluff #tsu'tey smut #navi oc #avatar #avatar 2009 #avatar 2022 #avatar angst #angst #avatar smut #tsutey avatar #pandora #eywa #omatikaya #olo'eyktan #blog post #tsu'tey x reader

[thewholecrew]

     it hadn’t really all sunk in until he saw her. the way his heart dropped to his feet, how his stomach twisted painfully as grief and fury tangled together like fighting dragons within him. he was speechless the first time he saw her, the breath in his lungs leaving him in a foul swoop. honey eyes stung and he nearly fell to his knees. who could have done this to her? why hadn’t he been there to protect her? his jaw clenched, gritting his teeth painfully to keep his lips from trembling. he would find who did this and he would make them suffer. 

     over the next few weeks if he wasn’t with octavia, sitting by her side with kassy or nick, he was on the hunt. like a hound raised from hell he barely slept, so consumed by hatred, by a rage he’d only felt once before. but that had been when he’d been a child. when he hadn’t had the resources and skills he did now. now he was a monster more than a man, trained in the art of pain and suffering. there would be no surviving this, no walking away from this. with an expression as cold and calm as a frozen lake, he’s eyes, now nearly black with the barely contained rage, widened as he found him. the man with the dragon tattoo.

     he was from a rival gang and he supposed grant should have expected that but he’d never heard of nor experienced and trouble with them. knew no reason as to why they would choose to be so violent to the girl he loved. they had a problem now but grant was going to erradicate it. slamming the laptop down, he grabbed his bag and tucked his gun in the back of his pants before leaving. he let no one know what he was doing or where he was going, simply slid out of the clubhouse like a ghost, only noise was the squealing of the tires as he tore out of the garage.

     the man was easier to find than he thought and it only made grant’s rage boil hotter. how could a man as stupid as he was cruel have gotten their hands on octavia. how could he think he would get away with this? why wasn’t grant there? his own self hatred mixed and helped fuel his anger towards this man, coming from the shadows as he rounded the corner, hand striking like a snake as he gripped the mans throat and drove him into the alleyway wall. he wasn’t given a moment to speak before his other hand pointed the gun to his face. it was the challenging look he saw in that mans eyes that really set him off, even while he was choking the damn near life out of him.

     he would change that. i’m... d-dead... then... is th-that it? the man wheezed out only for grant to smile, cold and vicious. “no. but when i’m done with you, you’re going to beg for death.” there. there was a flash of fear. but it wasn’t enough. it wouldn’t be enough. and with a hard slam with the back of his gun he knocked him out for easier transporting.

     when the man with the dragon tattoo came to he was hanging, wrists tied skillfully and hooked. his ankles were also tied but chained to the ground below him. his shirt was also stripped for easy carving access. grant stood a ways in front of him, his attention on the torture tools he’d set up on the makeshift table, straightening a blade before glancing over hearing the groan. “oh, good. you’re awake,”  he spoke calmly, hands still and unshaking despite how his insides quivered with rage. “couldn’t start until you were concious,” he said as he walked up to the man and immediately begun. 

     “not so tough now, are you?” he asked rhetorically as he carved and burned and dug his thumb deep into the shallow and festering wounds. the mans screams echoed in the empty warehouse until he seemed to scream so much he fried his vocal cords. it took longer than grant thought but eventually the man was begging, apologizing, explaining it wasn’t his idea, he was just following orders. that it was because of octavia’s father. how he’d wronged their gang and had been sent to get even. the words fell on deaf ears as near black eyes watched him without an ounce of empathy, cold and dead much like this man would be when he was done with him. “i don’t care. you put your hands on her. you hurt her... nearly---” his throat closed as his anguish swamped him thinking about her condition when they’d found her, “nearly killed her... you will pay. every single one of you.” 

     driving his blade deeper, dark eyes watched as the man struggled, hoarse cries escaping. “you will never touch her again,” he said with a swing of a heavy hammer, breaking bones echoing. never again. never again. it repeated in his head as he almost seemed to watch himself work from the corner of his mind and eventually there was nothing left to do. nothing left to break, slash, cut, and no response. 

     putting down his knife he stared unseeing at his hands for who knew how long as an eerie calmness washed over him once again, the hungry rage being temporarily sated. his jaw flexed and slowly he blinked as if coming back into himself, fingers curling and flexing before he glanced around. it was over. for this man at least. there were still two others, he reminded himself as he got to work lowering the body and cleaning up. 

     no one would ever have the chance to do something like that to octavia ever again.

#torture tw #headstrongblake #verse: all american. #DRABBLE.

[shinydixon]

Hi, not sure how to identify myself so I’m just gonna say I’m the first angry anon you responded to about all this! Thank you for reading my message! Just wanted to say absolutely no disrespect, ill-intent or malice towards your country or the people of your country whatsoever ♥️. I don’t think you took it as such but just in case. I know this could, unfortunately, happen just about anywhere and I think it already has. Also I was unaware it was largely 14-15 year olds doing this. I’m sure there are adults that are just as complicit in this so I’ll just go ahead and say my message is largely for them even though, like you said, I don’t think it’s an excuse. I certainly would’ve never thought this was okay even as a child nor would I have ever used that as an excuse. But if any of those minors, by some odd chance, happen to read that message I really, really hope it sends the message that this behavior is incredibly shameful and disturbing. It’s absolutely no way to treat a person. I hope they learn that and I hope they learn it fast. And if they happen to find this one too please, please just think for one second thing outside of your own selfish existence and understand how this man must be feeling. He’s probably so, so incredibly petrified and exhausted and you’re actively taking part in that. Then bragging about it and acting as if it’s funny. How can you ever expect anyone to see you as even deserving of respect after that? Seriously. Please, I am actually begging, learn to have some empathy. That’s not how you treat a person. Not in the slightest. As for any adults complicit in this or taking part every bit of what I said before still stands. It makes you a fucking loser to treat someone this way, I hope you grow tf up real soon. As sad as it may sound, I hope with every ounce of my being Joseph finds a way to disappear after all this. As much as he can afford to at least. And I hope every single person that took part in any of this never has the chance to interact with him. I hope they never even see him again. He deserves privacy and at least some semblance of anonymity. Something we all as humans deserve. Anyway, sorry again for such a long message but thank you again for reading my message. Sending you all the peace and love in the world! ♥️♥️♥️

Hey! In case you'd like to be recognised without exposing yourself, you can sign your message with an emoji :)

Anyway I'm afraid none of them will learn, and I'm saying this based on their answers on the matter.

The girl who posted the video after saying Joe asked her to not take a picture, still say she did nothing wrong because, in her opinion, taking a video is different than taking a picture.

Then she posted a twit where she wrote "non abbiamo fatto le foto perché era col fratello che rompeva", i don't know how to translate the slang "che rompeva" but it's used when someone does something that annoys you, so she basically says that Joe's brother insisted on not taking pictures and this girl was annoyed by that...wtf

Joe was literally with his brother in a bar and you're annoyed because his brother and Joe kindly told you to not take a picture?

And this girl is 20+ years old, she should know better.

About the 14/15yo, those are the ones that stood outside his hotel forcing him to stay inside.

Some of them answered to people calling them out, with jokes, showing that they didn't care about what they were doing while others suggested to create a new gc because the old one was busted.

Honestly I don't have hope with people that behave like this.

Anyway don't worry, I took no offense about your message, I felt the urge to apologize because these are my fellow citizens, and since they won't ever apologize because they don't understand the gravity of the situation, I'll do that for them...kinda.

#joseph quinn #joe quinn

[sophiadwiratna]

It Ends With Us

Every person has their own limits to ideal relationship. Mine is always abusive and cheating. That has always been my limit. And when a person reached the limit, I suggest you to just walk away. Even if your whole heart still beating for him, every nerve, every love song still made for him. But you have to be brave and bold. Because if you don't leave, if you dare to feel a slight empathy because he was sobbing his heart out, if you dare to give him a chance he doesn't deserve, you'll lose the sight of your limit. And before you know it, you're trapped forever. This book sent me down memory lane thinking of that dreadful day when i gathered my last ounce of gut and finally be brave enough to closed the door behind.

and the torture began the moment you walked out of that hell. it was a journey that i wish people don't have to go through to. it was the worst kind of pain someone put me through. the self-pity journey, the constant misery, the loneliness i felt even when i'm surrounded by crowds, the crying to sleep episodes, the self blaming, the question of "am i not enough" keep spinning through my head like a riot. it's like i'm going through that five stage of grief repeatedly, every single day.

But don't you be worry.. Time heals. it always heals. you'll make your own closure. that people has different definition of love, and there's no such thing as bad people. we're all just people who sometimes do bad things. and we've all got a little bit of good and evil in us. you'll learn to live without them. the sound of his name did not hurt you anymore. you finally feel relieved it happened, or else you'd end up with someone who's not made for you. you weren't able to notice your own value, unable to see your worth. you'll come to a realization that you don't deserve to be loved that way because God knows you'd never done such painful thing to someone. and before you know it, you are healed. you moved on.

but that was the thing about a solid rock of pain. you may forgive them, you may move on from them, you may have no feelings toward them anymore, but the trauma carved like a tattoo in that tiny spot in your heart and leave a tiny hole there. you'll never forget the situations you were put through, you always cautious because love hasn't always been on your side, and the effects lingered on you like an octopus. you've built up walls around your heart, and you'll never be the people you once were.

And that's the new journey i'm going through right now. to slowly fill the hole inside my heart. to allow myself to depend on them. to learn to trust someone wholeheartedly, without a second thought. to have no fear of someone might hurt me the same way or worse later in the future. to finally break down the wall to my guarded heart.

I wish I can get out of my own prison and be free.

[alyosiuscreightonward]

-D-

“Is this my life now,” I asked myself as I looked at what seemed like hundreds of red taillights on the highway in front of me.

Owning a horse barn isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. Like anything else in life, it isn’t always puppies and kittens. Again I was completing another circuit, just another boring drive to get a new clients horse ready to be relocated. I’d leave at dawn’s crack to put another hundred or more miles on my car before the sun sets. I should have probably gotten used to driving from Smithville via Elgin to Wimberley with stops in Bee Caves and Thrall.

I kept thinking about how late I could be today due to all tech nerds impeding my ability to drive by moving here to the Austin metro area. My foreman, Gallegos who was already there in Wimberley would wag his finger at me for being late.

“DIE YUPPIE SCUM,” I screamed over Englebert Humperdinck as he was droning on and on about a man without love. Ugh.

Finally we started to move forward and I was hoping to be able to drive today. Gallegos was a great help to me over the years and he’d always tell me if either the horse or the client were going to be good for me and the barn. He was always very intuitive about these things. The transplant from “The Big Valley” knew something about horses first and foremost, but when he’d meet the owner or rider, he’d give them the squinty eye and say something about how he felt, then he’d give a thumbs up or down. Gallegos is the best barometer ever.

Sigh. After all that traffic, I pulled into the driveway of the familiar barn. I spotted Gallegos’ truck parked next to fence. I parked next to him. As I was gathering my things, I noticed that he was making his way towards me. A huge faded white cowboy hat that had seen better days perched precariously on his head. Always dressed in a white shirt cuffed at the elbows, blue jeans and cowboy boots, this grizzled man was a great judge of character and not an ounce of fat on him. A tad thick but just pure muscle.

“Estoy hasta el moño,” Gallegos said as he stopped to open the gate. “You got a live one here,” he continued as he locked the gate behind him. He took a few more steps towards me before he stopped and readjusted his hat.

“The steed is a good horse for us, but the owner has a lot to learn about transportation. She wants to sedate him before he gets into the trailer. Not every horse has to be comatose to travel,” he said shaking his head.

I’ve been doing this for longer than I care to admit and hearing this razed my hackles.

“Who does she think she is,” I asked Gallegos. “I’m thinking she is the one who should be sedated.”

We stood there getting deeper into conversation as people and horses were walking around just beyond the fence. Indistinguishable chatter was heard coming from the direction of the barn.

“We will get this sorted out and if not we’ll have to get Frau Blücher to pay this crazy woman a visit,” Gallegos said with a grin.

“You’re naughty, Gallegos,” I shot back and stifled my laughter.

“Also I need to let you know that I’m going to have to go home tonight because my Tita isn’t doing well and she’s the last one for me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. This is last one and I’m sure you have things in place,” I said feeling empathy for him and his family.

“Not sure how long I’ll be gone. She’s been dying for the past twenty years but I got my nephew, Derrick, to help you out while I’m gone,” he turned away from me and put two fingers in his mouth and whistled and bellowed, “Niño! Ven aqui!” Seconds later my eyes feasted on his nephew. Dayum y’all.

All of a sudden I had a dry mouth when I saw this tall drink of water. A lumbering man built like a brick silo came out and started towards us. Dark eyes, darker hair and his white shirt and blue jeans appeared to be airbrushed on his frame. He stepped out off the runway during Paris Fashion Week.

He just walked up the gate and looked at Gallegos and then me. I had no idea what they said to each other until I heard Melouk’s voice in my head, “The jam in my jelly roll.”

“Que Dios te lo pague con un buen novio,” I heard Gallegos say and that snapped me back to reality. He smiled at me and said, “My nephew, Derrick, here will be taking care of you and the barn while I’m away. I’m sure I told him about all the things that he should know about but you’ll tell him if something changes, right,” he said as he quietly touched my arm. We made eye contact.

Look here, I’m Gerta Haselberg Jorde Santino. I’m no second rate Diva who can’t sustain. I’m a well educated woman from old money and has ancestry touching on The Rothschilds. I’m a married woman and I truly love my husband to the nth degree but I’m looking at Rodin’s “The Thinker” leaning on the fence just over there.

“Howdy, Miss Santino. A pleasure to meet you and I’ll be there tomorrow morning,” his baritone voice said. “I need to get back to work now.” Derrick’s hand waved in our general direction and I watched those two ripe melons stroll away from us. Painted on.

“GERTA!! Darling, you’re here. Gallegos I wondered where you scurried off to and I find you keeping her from me,” the shrewish shrill voice of Bonnie Oliphant boomed across the paddock. If you know how tempered glass crackles into millions of pieces but doesn’t actually shatter, yeah, pretty much that’s Bonnie’s voice.

Derrick was gone. Gallegos rolled his eyes at me and walked away as Bonnie walked right past him without taking her gaze off me. She has smile that looks like she took two straight pins and put them on either side of her mouth. Ugh.

We did this “Bro Hug” thing that was so disingenuous you could have seen it from the training flight window of The Vomit Comet.

“Katy Lynn Hargreaves is out of her dayum mind if she thinks she’s going to sedate Linus just to bring him across town,” she said flatly. “I’m not having it. Now, all I need you to is back me up on this,” she finished and with a flourish, she waved me in the general direction of Katy Lynn. Ugh.

After several five minute conversations with Bonnie, Katy Lynn, Gallegos and me, Linus is going to be absolutely sober before, during and after being transported to my barn. The next thing I knew heading back to Smithville. I slowed down to a stop and noticed that I needed to clean my boots off again. This what I get for mucking around a barn.

“I’m Gerta and I have a thing for horses. It’s been 17 plus years now since I first smelled wet baby poo like mud and fresh manure.” The idiotic thoughts I can come up with in moments of panic and it made think of what I didn’t say to Katy Lynn about Linus.

Melouk sent me a meme once and it’s about horses. I wanted to scream the words in Katy Lynn’s face, “If I ever owned a race horse, I’d name it, ‘My Face.’ Then when fans cheer for it they’ll scream, ‘Come on My Face!!’ but in your case, impotence reigns supreme.” That’s rude, crude, lewd and socially unacceptable. I digress.

Derrick is standing in front of me with his hands in pockets of those airbrushed blue jeans. He was looking down at first then he looked right through me.

“Miss Santino, I went to take a look at the irrigation system like Gallegos said to do and I did. I’m going to have to lay down some new pipe,” he said in quiet tone of voice and scuffed one boot on the floor.

[notsp1derman]

a somewhat despairing review of "frankenstein", by mary shelley

[may contain spoilers]

"I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.”

Cruelty can be born of love, just as empathy can spring even in the worst pits of hell. So until what point can we judge a creature without knowing its life?

For me, Frankenstein has become more than a classic horror story, more than a cautionary tale about progress without ethics. It's the picture of a wretched creature made in rejection and misery, surprisingly eloquent and gentle despite its origins, but that still didn't bear its own despair and succumbed to hatefulness. It's full of tragedy and bitterness, along with some of the most devastatingly human feelings written beautifully on the pages.

At the same time, life's tribulations don't justify cruelty, at least for me, and that applies as much to Victor as to the Creature. Both commit terrible and selfish acts and do complicated mental gymnastics to validate them, but it's impossible to pick a side; in the end, we all do things to our own benefit sometimes, harming others in turn. Victor had a somewhat noble cause, but was blinded by his ego and distracted by his own self-pity and cowardice. On the other hand, the Creature absolutely can't be blamed for its own cursed existence, but its heinous crimes didn't solve a single thing.

I don't have a single ounce of pity towards Victor; he deserves the hell he paid in the end. But I can't help but sympathize towards the Creature despite its sins. The feeling of not fitting in, of being alienated from society, hits me even though I'm not disfigured or horrifying in appearance. And it's not far-fetched to imagine many who feel this even deeply, in a world obsessed with youth and aesthetic perfection. Yet there are things that will always be unfair, and though we can and should do our best to lessen them and work towards a better future, it is overwhelming and despairing sometimes.

And that is the saddest part: we'll be forever victims of the opinions of others,and things won't just conveniently solve themselves just because they're unfair. Nobody is inherently evil, and that doesn't mean everyone is fruit only of their circumstances, so we are left to chalk it up to the many unfortunate probabilities of living. I believe the answer to the mysteries of one of the world's most famous stories is actually quite simple. Despite everything, in the end it's just human nature.

★★★★☆

#booklr #frankenstein #mary shelley #yas reviews books #its insane how everything couldve been avoided if victor werent a pussy and didnt procrastinate #oh no i created a wretched creature and immediately regretted it #guess ill just pretend it was a dream for the next six months #but kudos to my girl mary for being a bad bitch and inventing sci-fi

[stupidnotebook]

You say you love me and it isn’t fair that i say you don’t; but that’s exactly what you do to me. You say me going on dating apps when we aren’t together anymore is fucked up but you did it first. You told all your friends and family some version of a story which you then told me left them hating me. You told me you accepted boundaries I set with regards to exclusivity and then the next week harassed me about it while we were supposed to be having fun at a bar and told me to leave you there and you’d find a ride with someone else. You lied to me, slapped me, called me stupid repeatedly, yelled at me, forced me to do things I wasn’t able to do, told me I’m a bad person, unsend messages to me before I can either read or respond to them. You brag about your sex life with other people. You introduced multiple of your friends for the first time to me as people you’ve had sex in the past with. You gave me a vd and were upset with me for being upset about it. You denied the human right to feel wronged by something you did to me. You feel no compassion towards me.

Every time i broke up with you it was because I felt you’d be better off without me or because I hindered you and didn’t want to anymore. You agreed pretty callously with that sentiment multiple times and said i was no good for you or anyone. You maliciously told me you’d about a potential child we had in the most cruel way I’ve heard anyone say and then were mad that I left you to make those decisions about your body for yourself. You don’t respect my personal space when it comes to the boundaries i set for my son and family.

All of these things hurt and I would cry or shut down in the moments they would happen, but each time I would blame myself because you were so amazing during the good times. I blamed myself and hated myself for the times when it would go badly because I was so infatuated with you. You blame me for things that don’t go wrong and threaten harm on yourself while blaming me. I think that’s one of the biggest differences between us; I had self hate during the bad times and you would blame me. Every. Single. Time.

Until now. Now I’ve realized how you can be so mean to me. It isn’t because I’m imperfect and have my own issues, because you’re also human and I didn’t hate you for them. And each of those above listed things is very much an act of hate. You disregard my mental health because you’re so focused on your own. This isn’t to say you shouldn’t take care of yourself. You just can’t use me as your punching bag though and then still say you love me. You were nicer to aaron in person after he insulted and lied about you to your friends than you have been to me in our most minor or petty disagreements. How long after your issues with him if at all did you delete and block him. With me it’s instantaneous. Why?

I never said I didn’t love you. I’m fucking crazy about you. I don’t even know why anymore because you have been a terribly mean and selfish person towards me. If you could show one ounce of empathy towards me when we’re on the rocks like I try to for you then maybe I would still be able to go back to you and forgive the past. But the fact is that I have to defend myself every time after I say something is wrong because you don’t think you’re capable of any wrong doing so you continuously place the blame on me for you being mean. Even though I still love you and want to be with you I can’t do that to myself. I can’t do that to my son. I can’t accept that lifestyle of love to not love because it isn’t right.

For whatever reason I still think I’ll be proud of you in the future as you achieve great success. How fucked up is that? You can wrong me and then blame me and say I’m a horrible person and I still want to see you thrive and be happy. I wish i could send this to you but I know it will send you either into another downward spiral or leave me with a series of harassing comments and incessant calls blaming me again. I wish I could just say something to try for closure but I know it will just make things worse again. My head feels like it’s going to explode from all this and I just want to sleep all the time because then I don’t feel anything. I wish we could be together and happy. That seems entirely unattainable though and that thought is as depressing as the thought of staying with you as you continue to hurt me emotionally, psychologically, and physically at times. I don’t want to love you anymore but i still do. When you say you’re unwell I try to get you help even as I’m spiraling on my own. You don’t even care enough to believe me when I say it though and care even less to ask. Because when you do ask and if i give you the truthful answer that I’m not okay you again blame me. And that is not okay.

[siriusmydeer]

can you do young sirius black x reader fic where him and the reader are dating the reader has really awful parents that make them feel like shit all the time

the promising potters

sirius black x gender neutral!reader

summary: sirius offers you a better position then one you’re already in.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: mentions of child abuse, mentions of self insecurity/doubt, crying, guilt, hurt/comfort, mentions of feeling unworthy/useless, angst but only if you squint, bad parent-kid relationship bonds

a/n: so i combined this with another request bc they’re so similar.

there was a familiar recurrent amount of anticipation weighing like a tipping scale in your subconscious, simply waiting for it to tip too far. it was a circadian never-ending cycle of thoughts, of venomous thinking that had immense potential to swallow you whole if you’d allow it. the recurrent malignant thoughts were never-ending.

as the sorrowful day continued, it felt like an eternal chain of events that would never cease, the recurrent thought pounding in your psyche similar to an alarm without a snooze button. the burden on your mind, the letters upon letters barricading your every thought at the disappointing words scribbled upon the parchment. there was only feeling that was a considerable emotion among the others that were struggling to afloat,

dismay.

how could you be good enough for yourself if you couldn't be enough for the people that brought you into this world that was supposed to love and cherish you? it was quite a familiar question that rapidly came and went in a vicious cycle swishing around your mind almost making your perception an obscuring fog that regarded any other thought.

your bottom had been sprawled upon the carmine stitched duvet, that belonged to sirius, for the past several hours. the small parchment clutched between your trembling digits from recurrent gazing at the wounding letters sculpted into the paper by your parents following their signatures. the letters becoming a jumble of words that you could no longer read due to the tears obscuring your vision.

there's a stutter of words that spill off your tongue in the sense of dejection, a faint cough escaping your lungs through your trachea before you spoke again. “sirius— i just can’t do this anymore.” you spoke desperately, the slight jut of your lip quavered whilst you spoke in sorrow. there was an erratic palpitation soaring through your chest every millisecond at the uneasiness strumming through every minuscule blood cell that your body could possess.

your fingers slightly trembled while you clenched them deeper into the creased parchment from your steady and unwavering grip. “hurts so bad.” your words slightly muffled from the tears that were bound to spill over your waterline. your sentence was almost disorganized from the congestion that had formed in your throat due to the number of tears you had shed then less than ten minutes ago.

he began to soothe you with his tranquil fingers that began to trace bemused shapes down your spine, feeling the balmy touch of his finger pads through your shirt ventured into the beginning of tranquility in his endeavor to comfort you. his chin had been resting on the curvature of your shoulder whilst his nose slightly prodded at your clavicle, seeking to conciliate you further.

how could a parent reject their child? what could that child have done so wrong that suddenly they’re unworthy of a parent's love?

who is deserving of that treatment?, not you, certainly not you.

there was a cycle of questions that remained prominent in your mind that only swirled down for a few moments as you were distracted by sirius’ soothing touch, your subconscious yearning for the answer since you had been a young child pondering why you felt so dejected by them. if you were given the opportunity you could've to plead on your knees for an answer as to why.

your respires were beginning to elevate tremendously as you thought of the answers to your ignored questions. whilst sirius began to notice the heaving movements that trembled in your chest, he placed a soothing palm on the bend of your spine— he was adamantly trying his best to comfort you in a situation he had been incredibly familiar with.

“i know baby, i know,” he spoke with a small quiver in his voice. an empathetic sense beginning to acquire over the planes of his sensorium, feeling the uttermost affliction that had been radiating off of your body now melding into his own.

“i wish things were different.” you sighed. your neck began to crane to the left in an attempt to glimpse at the boy. sirius’ chin remained on the curvature of your shoulder and the movements of his palms never faltering, he peered his eyes at you. the familiar pearl-hued irises covered in a clear glaze of empathy towards your slouched figure that was sat upon his bed.

he nodded as a sign that his attention remained on you, observing the way you brought your hand, with a slight tremor now enabling its way from the exertion of stress your body had to endure, and bringing it to wipe across the streaks engraved its way down your cheeks; letting your hand flop back onto your thigh in exhaustion.

“i’m here, m’love. ‘m here,” he whispered into the pulse point of your neck along with a small kiss, identifying how your jugular began to quiver faintly at his consoling words.

he pondered for a moment in silence. if his next words were worthy to be sputtered out in the despairing aura that remains present in the room since you had trudged in his dormitory. james wouldn’t have the slightest problem, euphemia nor fleamont either.

‘the more the merrier.’ they would say, sirius’ mind depicting their exact voices.

“i feel so useless.” you broke the silence once more, wiping another tear whilst expressing your concerns to the gryffindor. “like there’s nothing else i could do, besides disappointing them,” you spoke without an ounce of dishonesty in your voice.

the murmur of your honest confession was enough to bring tears cascading down his pallid cheeks.

sirius’ hand had paused and his chin had lifted from your shoulder, his brows contorting into a broad emotion of perplexity. bewildered at his sudden actions your eyebrows began to crease at his movements. “listen to me,” he began to speak in nobility, “you’re not a disappointment nor useless, you hear me?” he chastised sternly.

“and i don’t ever want to hear you think like that again.” he proceeded to lay his hand on your dampened cheek feeling the familiar searing burn of embarrassment rise to your face, sliding the pad of his thumb against your skin in a comforting motion. “stay with me, and james, and the potters.” he offered, your eyes shooting rapidly into a widened state at his request.

“i can't, it’s—“ you began to deny his offer with the shake of your head, feeling a barricade of guilt. you hastily cut yourself off while attempting to put together your disfigured thoughts. “s’not worth it, ‘m not worth it. to ruin everything you have going with the potters.”

“you aren't ruining anything, love. ‘m gonna talk with james, you don't have to do with it alone.”

you gaped at him, wide eyes glistened with glaciers of despair and dejection while your lips were adamantly trembling attempting to not let a flow of tears overcome you once more. simply not wanting to disturb the atmosphere that had been built in the potter household since sirius had arrived, as well as having no desire to burden them with the faults that had been weighed upon you. but sirius would have none of that, the potters had adored you since the first christmas you had to spend with them in second year.

there would be zero troubles taking you in, and he was going to make sure of it.

“everything’s gonna is alright, i promise you.”

taglist: @fific7 @wisedreamcatcher @kittykylax @ronbrokemyheart @aspiringsloth20 @georgeswh0re @amourtentiaa @msmb @fangouria @five-cups-of-coffee @dracofknmalfoy @emmaev @serenitywilderness @i-love-scott-mccall @artemis1orion @miss-starkov @siriusbarnesslut @inglourious-imagines @famdomhideout @hufflepogue @kirascottage @luvvninaz @miraclesoflove @black-like-my-soul @slytherclawbitch @90steaology

#sirius black x you #sirius black x daughter!reader #sirius black x gryffindor!reader #sirius black x ravenclaw!reader #sirius black x slytherin reader #sirius black x oc #sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black fluff #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fic #sirius black au #sirius black smut #sirius black series #sirius black blurb #sirius black drabble #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #harry potter #harry potter stuff #harry potter oneshot #harry potter fic #harry potter fluff #harry potter blurb #harry potter drabble #harry potter headcanon

[the-anxiety-ridden-writer]

knives on my body, blood on my hands

Chapter One: The House At The End of The Street, The Cabin Buried in the Woods

THE CLOCK HAS BARELY TICKED PAST NINE O’CLOCK when the last light flickers off. Ink black shadows swell in the thin backstreets whilst gray storm clouds obscure any light coming from the shining moon.

The old town plunges into darkness and hidden within it, a little girl revels in it. Tilts her head back and let’s the beginnings of the storm wash over her, as if the rain water that begins to seep into her very being can wash away the red that has stained her soul.

(It can’t, the blood on her hands will transcend lifetimes)

A bright clash of lightning brings her out of her thoughts. She melts into the shadows and continues on her way, making her way down the street with eerie silent footsteps.

Perhaps a lesser man would have stumbled down the street, unable to walk the burrard street without tripping over himself. But the little girl moves with a silent grace in her step, weaving around the bumps and cracks even when she can barely see the boots on her feet.

The training of her handlers, years spent in the Hydra and The Red Room overcoming her. She could walk the streets - could walk a path around the world and still carry the deadly grace and efficiency that they had beaten into given her.

Besides, the little girl was just The Asset to her handlers, Hydra’s own personal Angel Smerti. She was no man, much less one of low value.

The house at the end of the street is quiet when she enters it. The screams of the lightning hide the soft whine of the window when she opens it and the creak of the wooden floorboards when she lands on them.

The Asset squints her eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness and trail over the bookshelf lined walls. She stepped towards the oak desk, lifting one of the files scattered on the surface. She let her eyes scan the pages within before setting it down, letting the words winter soldier, car crash, two victims and serum mull over in her head before filtering it away for later, a loud clatter pulling her attention to the doorway.

A poison slick dagger is already soaring through the air and embedding itself in the figure before she can fully get a good look at them. The figure - a frail, old man with thinning white hair - stumbles back from the force of the knife, dark eyes widening in fear as the Asset stalks over to him.

She gives him quick once over, letting her eyes roam over the man as his muscles begin to tense up until he can’t move at all, until he is nothing but a mere puppet that the Asset can pull all the strings of. A puppet that the Asset can cut all the strings off of.

She carefully ignores how those last thoughts bring a small sense of dread and horror that pools in her stomach. Turn her head to the voice telling her ‘what’s one more body to add to the pile?’ And the voice asking her ‘just how monstrous have you become?’

(too much, far too much for someone her age)

The man finds his voice, previously lost in a sea of gasps and whimpers, “Please.” he begs, eyes wide, a wrinkled hand pressed to the dagger buried within his stomach.

“Please don’t ki-“ the Asset cuts him off, yanking the dagger out and shoving it into his throat. It doesn’t take long for the old man to leave these mortal planes, drifting off to be judged by an otherworldly being that can distinguish a saint and a sinner and never the between. To the otherworldly being that thinks he has any right to judge the actions of a human being trying to survive.

No, Death has never discriminated between the saints and the sinners.

‘And neither shall I’ the Asset thinks, ripping her dagger from his throat to slip back into the many holsters that cover her clothing.

She lugs the old man into the study, manhandling his body into the smooth leather chair, resting his head upon the oak desk, staining the folders with his blood. She stepped back, observing her work with a critical eye. It almost looked like the poor man had fallen asleep at his desk, if you - you know - ignore the blood.

The Asset eyed the scented candles perched atop one of the bookshelves, promptly labeled Cinnamon Sugar! Warm Spring Sunshine! and Peach! The Asset raised an eyebrow, an idea coming to mind.

An idea that would end in the echoing cries of firetruck sirens throughout the quaint street, the horrified muttering of neighbors and the ashes of an old man's study.

•☽○☾•

IT’S DAWN by the time the Asset makes her way back to where her handler—a sleazy, middle aged man that she hadn’t taken the time to remember his name—is currently based.

The sky is a disarray of colors, the sun spilling a cup of bright yellows and exotic oranges over the previously dark canvas. The Asset finds herself staring up at it, and feels a deep longing begin to stir. For the sky ran everywhere. It ran through the deepest of forests and the driest of deserts and over the endless waves of the ocean. The sky ran everywhere, demanding to be seen and heard and free and the Asset found herself envying it.

Truth be told, there used to be a fire in the Assets soul, before she was called Asset and went by the name that had been sewn into a velvet blanket by a woman that may have cared. It would burn through her veins, close to her heart and on days when her trainers would be harder on her than the rest for her heritage or when one of the girls - a pretty blond who went by Rowena - would make a cruel remark about the shape of her eyes, she’d let the fire consume her, let it burn through her and come out of her mouth, searing into them, until Rowena wept ugly tears into her hands and the trainers unleashed a flurry of punches and kicks before demanding an apology. The Asset can’t remember if the girl with her name sewn into a blanket had ever apologized, had never wanted to dwell too much on those memories.

(she hadn’t, the girl took all the pain and torture with her head held high. she refused to apologize for the fire in her soul. )

The Asset shook those thoughts away as the cabin her handler—Ivan Vanko—had holed himself up in came into sight. Just the sight of it, and the thought of facing Ivan had her straightening her posture, wiping any sign of weariness and schooling her face until there were no cracks in her porcelain mask, nothing for Ivan to dig into to expose all her thoughts.

There’s no noise when she enters, the door shutting silently behind her. She tenses, tilting her head to the side before pulling out one of her knives. Moving down the hall, she keeps her senses sharp, With no idea who she’s up against, she waits, muscles wound tight and her mouth a hard line, eyes darting around the slim hallway walls. She doesn’t have to wait long.

A hand thrusts out of the first doorway to her right, a strong pull has her flying through the air and losing the grip on her knife. Pain erupted in her shoulder but she didn't give it the time of day. Instead she rolls to her feet, springing up and throwing every ounce of her strength into the flying kick that sends her assailant slamming into the wall with a yell of pain.

The Asset lets herself breathe, if only for a second. Her eyes assess her assailant — a well dressed man with balding hair — cataloging every weakness she can find, from the way he favors his right side to the fading bruise on his right temple, while he lay recovering.

This time, when he lunged for her, she is ready.

She side steps his attack, digging her knee into his injured side, and sends a sharp elbow into his already bruised face. A loud crack echoes in the room, and when he stumbles back, a scream of pain that can only come from deep within himself, a small twisted part of her is pleased to see his nose is far from the correct position.

Adrenaline thumps through herself, a synchronized sympathy that plays in tempo with her heart. When both he and his little friend that had been waiting, watching in the shadows of the room lunge at her, she already knows who the victor of this battle will be.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is where their dance begins. Or rather, her dance begins.

She dodges his friend's attack, turning and arching her leg in the air, slamming it into assailant number two — a short woman who was barely taller than The Asset — side. It leaves her stumbling back, groaning as she falls like a corpse into the glass table in the center of the room.

The Asset grunts as strong arms encircle her, lifting her up, up, up. She grunts, moving her arm up and once again digging her elbow in his face. It connects with his eye this time, the action leaving him stumbling back, clutching his hand to his eye. The Asset doesn’t give him time to recover, doesn’t have enough sympathy, enough empathy, enough mercy in the body that has been crafted with the fists and guns and needles of the men and women who have used her, trained her, killed her.

It’s why the dagger slips so easily out of its concealed holster and into the man's chest. A cry of agony is silenced with the arc of her leg, her foot connecting with his Adam's apple. He toppled over, hands held to his chest as if he can relieve the pain that she has brought to his body.

She stared him down, the soft creak of wood under her foot echoed like screams around the room. She plants one foot on his chest, pressing down as she pulls the dagger from his chest, baring her teeth behind her ninja-esque mask as he screams.

She leaves the man there, bleeding, beaten, broken and goes to find her handler.

AN: I don’t know what this is, but it’s dumb. I’m also dumb tho and I’m thinking of adding on.

Special thanks to @unmaskedagain , @nightlychaotic and @nobodyfamousposts for introducing me to maribat. I love all of your maribat posts.

Tag list: @avengerthewarrior , @nightlychaotic

#mlb x marvel #assassin marinette #Marinette is the asset #hyrda #maribat #but later #marinette dupain cheng #mlb x dc #marinette is the Asset #in case that wasn’t clear

[unyieldingvalxr]

A Drop To Drink

@honorhearted​ continued from x

         Marion dropped a fresh scowl upon the Major. She had little patience or empathy for men who made themselves sick by appealing to disgusting vices. “Ah? So ya don’t.” She clips when he mentions he doesn’t NEED her advice. “And that’s why ya as green as one of them upended fish, right round them gills a’ your’s.” The young woman hadn’t ever seen a man look that shade and she’s guessing it ain’t right. And she can hazard a guess why he looks crockodile-green than human. It must have something to do with all those bottles.

She loved him with every ounce of her being. Why did he have to go and do this to himself for? Couldn’t Tallmadge see that war was torment enough without the burden of self-inflicted harm? Oh, Elsie could coddle him. She could cuddle him, hold him to her chest like she wanted to but that vile stench of fermentation lingered heady over his form. And then where would her own sense of self-respect be? Wallowing right in the gutter next to his. No! Perish the thought. A Southern lady NEVER willingly stooped to that kind of low. The moral codes alone prevent it.

She was going to override that internalized compass to comfort him, when he employed downright discourteous words in the form of an instruction. He may outrank her, but she’d be damned if she EVER took that kind of order from anyone.

Elsie grabs the nearest vessel, filled to the brim with chilled swamp waters. “Alright. I want’cha ta know I don’t like this - about as much as ya won’t.” It’s a preamble for what’s coming to him. “But since ya asked for it....” She heaves the bucket over him.

“And I ain’t leavin’ this tent without a proper, dignified soldier. Ya got it? Even if I gotta stay here for the next month. We’re gonna get through this....” She murmurs, placing the bucket aside and moving towards him. 

Francis Marion would boot him from Snow Island so fast Ben’s head would spin, if he learned about the consumption issues. It wouldn’t end there though. No, her father would send word to His Excellency. Elsie hoped, and prayed, she could get a handle on him BEFORE the process was ever set in motion.

“Wanna tell me what’s eatin’ ya?” She prods.

#A drop to drink #More like a DROP IN THE SWAMP XDD #Poor Ben #does not get a break #and Elsie's like --- yep. that's a toxic coping mechanism. We're not doing that XDD #Francis was anti alcohol and I'm sure Elsie would have been too #WELP IF YOU"RE LOOKING FOR THE PILLAR OF SYMPATHY __ KEEP LOOKING

[vidalinav]

Why? Why? WHY? Rant 2.0

ACOSF is very interesting to me, because there was absolutely no reason to have any of them be so antogonistic to Nesta when she was at rock bottom unless it’s to set up that they’re still going to be problems with Nesta in later books. That’s what SJM set up whether she meant to or not and only time will tell. But If the IC and the sisters had said nothing and were more neutral and the plot stayed the same... it would have been a better book. If they showed an ounce of compassion, it would have been a fantastic book. If there was a mixture of different views on the matter, it would have been a realistic book. Except in the narrative we got, the amount of antagonism is too strong for what didn’t happen to negate that, which is also why I have such a bad feeling about this healing arc. Let me explain.

Let’s say they said nothing. They told her about the intervention. Nesta agreed albeit still feeling a bit betrayed because she wanted more time to heal. Rhys was quiet, not sneering. Mor didn’t say anything. Amren was civil maybe business like. They were a bit pushy about using her powers, but Nesta conceded after learning about the baby. They were never directly antagonist. Elain stayed away, but we’d obviously know why from Nesta’s POV. We would also know why Feyre is not there, because Nesta doesn’t want to see her. Cassian would then be there to segment the romance and be the person she leans on, when she is healing. Maybe she’s a bit mean, but he takes it. He challenges, eventually he shows the more caring part of himself and the romance begins. Everything else can stay the same, mostly Cassian too. IF that all happened, then I would be more inclined to believe that the intervention was necessary, that Nesta had a skewed perspective, that they all might have tried to help at some point but Nesta was the one pushing them all away and did so up to this point. She would have her revelations, her epiphanies, and realize hey perhaps she is mean sometimes, or she would still have her personal hatred, and it would be about accountability, but no one is actively proving her right about her skewed perspective. The consequence is then not that she is being shamed into healing, but that without healing, she would lose her relationships and she wants them. She grows to want them. I would then be inclined to believe that the IC were waiting her out, possibly having Feyre or Cassian in their best interest if not Nesta, and that they were minding their own business until they directly needed Nesta involved. Not hostile, but wary perhaps. And then when Nesta did start healing and opening up, then their reactions would have made sense in that they were lightly friendly but not close, and it was up to Nesta to really fix those relationships. And when she did sacrifice her powers, then it would have been purely internal, that Nesta was proving to herself and to others that she’s open for love and that she loves them, particularly Feyre. The entire healing arc then would have been more internal because it focuses on Nesta and not the IC’s involvement with Nesta, and the outcomes and the ending are still the same. 

Opposite wise, let’s say that the IC/sisters were empathetic, as in the arc that would be more external. Healing not just for Nesta but for the relationships. A reciprocal sort of love. Feyre would tell her that they’re intervening, but because they care for her and she’ll learn in due time. Rhys would maybe be more hard-pressed, but we would see instances where he understands the darkness, the hollow feeling. We would have Amren who looks deeply concerned for Nesta, because she had been her friend at some point. We’d have Elain, who would come to the library desperately seeking comradery and even though she cries at what Nesta says, she understands that Nesta is hard-pressed and only recently started healing. Cassian would possibly be getting frustrated, but there would always be this internal monologue of I want Nesta to heal. I want that girl back. I understand as a soldier if nothing else. Having this deep sorrow in his chest from perhaps not being able to do anything but wait. Mor wouldn’t have to be nice, but she would see how Nesta fits in the library, know the pain of growing up in a gilded cage, would perhaps see Feyre and Cassian and feel compassion for her friends and want to perhaps help for them, so she offers to teach Nesta how to dance. Nesta then would slowly open up to them, open up to love, and all of the ugly parts of herself, the hateful, angry parts would then be juxtaposed with the action of everyone else, with the love that she needs to feel for herself, the love that came even at the last moment with her father. And when she sacrifices her powers, it’s just proof again, that she loves, and she wants to love, and she’s willing to be hurt for love, because she wants to feel it all. And then the relationships at the end would then be open to be made, to be healed more completely, but then I would understand this hopeful sort of ending where her story is complete, but also just beginning. 

Third option, is that we could get a bit of everything, because why does everyone have the same opinion as it seems in the book? Perhaps it’s Feyre and Cassian who completely show compassion, empathy. Elain could still have the problems, but either show empathy, or completely be antagonistic. Azriel is fairly neutral, Rhys is maybe more neutral where they’re waiting it out, but there are no bad opinions towards her. The antagonists could be Mor and Amren. Any of these people could be switched in that role, but the point would be that a few are neutral and more business like or minding their own. A few could possibly have bad intentions and it would be clear. And some would be undeniably empathetic, and I don’t mean to be kind--I mean that they understand, they have viewed Nesta through her eyes, and understand what she is going through and are unwilling to give up on her. The empathy would be the important aspect. But the point would be that none of them change their characteristics. The antagonists would still be fairly antagonistic. The mind your own’s would be open to a friendship, but the friendship would need work but there is a foundation for it. The empathetic would be completely close to the main, because they have stood by her, they have fought, and Nesta would realize this in her own personal journey. They have segmented a bond. The plot would be the same, except we’d now see that some characters suck more than others, and there’s definitely character arcs and growth that need to be made, but it would lead to future books that that might be highlighted and therefore leaves the door open for the rest of the series. 

HOWEVER, what we got is very odd. 

Because all of these characters start off antagonistic. All of them have some comments that are goading (except for Azriel). We have Feyre who makes the embarrassment comment, Rhys who... is antagonistic in many places. I won’t list them all. We have Mor and her lines. We have Amren and her lines. We have Elain and her lines. And no variation with anyone. Nesta gets proven right about her wrong perspective. She has an internal healing arc that seems to just morph into another odd perception, because she’s never proved wrong about herself, but she’s proven right about how good Cassian is (rolls eyes). She notes that she might like who she's becoming by the end, but how? Why? What has occurred to disprove her irrational thoughts? At the end, she is still very much irrational. Nesta still thinks too highly of Cassian, and she thinks too highly of everyone, and very little for herself. She is ripped wide open emotionally though, but that happens after the solstice scene where life suddenly looks very good. She apologies to Amren, who probably least deserved the apology, and to Cassian who also makes comments, but keeps making comments until the end where he means to apologize but doesn’t get the chance to by plot. Oh wait, she does apologize to Feyre about telling her about the baby, I think, but that situation is just swept under the rug for how dramatic it ended up being. Her not wanting to exist is also one and done. The necessity of the intervention is never highlighted, so the reader questions if it was necessary. I question if she might not need an intervention from them. Some of them stay the same throughout (Azriel, maybe Elain... maybe Feyre). Some of them miraculously change to neutral, even if nothing happens to change their mind (Mor). Some of them just change completely (Amren). Some of the relationships are only really fixed because of the baby plot (Rhys and Feyre). And Cassian is probably the only one who has the most reasonable scenario on why that relationship blooms, but it’s questionable if it was truly satisfying because ultimately the only person who really had growth was Nesta even though there are two POVs. And at the end, no one still has shown empathy. Well actually Gwyn and Emerie showed empathy, so perhaps the motivation in healing with Nesta was just added friends, a mate, and distraction. Which I guess... but why then involve so much of the opinions of the IC/sisters if they don’t mean too much? Why emphasize the danger of Nesta, the badness of Nesta, the problems with Nesta, and not negate any of these in scenes with the people that are perceiving her like that. Especially if the goal of this is not to just heal but to heal relationships, as it seems like that was the goal or should have been the goal if the perceptions of others were emphasized. So the end was almost too happy, too hopeful for an arc that started off with such deep trauma and every relationship seemingly failing to a point where the others are antagonistic, and who the narrator received the bare minimum at best to facilitate change... It’s a balance issue I’m telling you.

And, I am making general statements about what happened for good reason. I am trying to show how this could be more satisfying, if the aspects of the story was changed just a teeny bit. I have never read a book so deep in good and bad things. So easily arguable and all it took was how other people affected the narrative. So, I ask why? Why not make the IC/sisters empathetic or neutral or a strong variation of all three (empathetic, neutral, and antagonist). Why have all of them start fairly antagonist, very obviously antagonistic actually, and then have no major scenes of disproval? Because if you start that dramatic you need dramatic scenes throughout to facilitate the dramatic ending. If you start very low or very angry and the ending is suppose to be higher than rock bottom, the middle scenes should be a tug of war. So where was it? Why do it? 

WHy? why? WHY???????

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #anti acosf #anti sjm #is this my last rant #idk #i need to get over this book