#{ her actions scream crazy || mannerisms }

[peculiardora]

{ tag dump }

[peculiarpanda]

{ tag dump }

[fangsandfeels]

"Everyone gets along because there is a threat", yadda, yadda, yadda.

Bullshit. This is not how real scenarios work and it has never been.

russia is a global threat right now, but the world can't decide between sucking its dick and politely asking it to stop because the mere thought of confronting russia makes it shit its pants. The very few countries who scream into the void, warning about russia and telling people to wake the fuck up are ignored and viewed as crazy doomsayers.

This is how real crisis looks like. Nobody works together against a threat because people are spineless cowards who would rather throw their neighbors under the bus than fight. Nobody learned anything from history lessons, books or survivors.

The only difference in a fantasy game is that NPCs end up having more spine and moral principles than real people.

But in Veilguard, everyone gets along because they have NO reasons not to.

Davrin has no real reasons to beef (if you can call it that) with Lucanis because he is a Grey Warden. He knows where Grey Wardens take their conscripts from. He knows that Grey Wardens regularly recruit mages who are a lot more likely to get possessed if they're not careful. Working with an assassin who knows friend from foe isn't the worst thing ever. One subtle warning about taking action if demon takes over is enough.

Taash has no reasons to antagonize Emmrich aside from horrible writing.

Neve gets along with Bellara because writers gave Bellara a happy childhood with her family and turned Dalish artifacts into Apple store gadgets, while refusing giving Neve any nuance as the citizen of Tevinter.

Emmrich gets along with everyone because he is generally a kind and well-mannered person who doesn't like to stir the pot.

Any companion who could have had a sharp edge, got that edge ripped off and a cartoon band-aid slapped on.

Never doesn't deal with people who don't know about Shadow Dragons (and they probably shouldn't know much because when you work against a powerful government who wants to destroy you, you shouldn't show off), so she constantly has to deal with the fact that people assume she is a noble or a slave-owner because she is from Tevinter; that they don't know that she had to literally fight against being enslaved herself because in Tevinter mages who refuse to use their power to dominate others are turned into slaves as well.

Bellara isn't conflicted about working with humans, especially Tevinter humans at all. She seems to never have dealt with oppression her whole life and she is super quick to write off Cyrian as evil even though there are clear SIGNS that he was tricked and controlled by the Forgotten One. But no, she never thinks "He is still there, I can save him, I won't lose him again", she goes straight to "Oh nooo my brother is dead to me".

Emmrich doesn't get burdened by people reacting to him and his sincere intention to help with fear, because of all the sinister rumors revolving around necromancers and Nevarra. He isn't hurt by people assuming that he loves death and things dying. If even he openly admitted that he is deeply terrified of death, they wouldn't have believed him.

Harding isn't burdened by the revelation she learned and what to do with it. Should she storm her way to the Orzammar? Should she talk to fellow surface dwarves and reconnect them with their history? Should she never breach the subject because the truth hurts and it's too much pain, too much anger to live with - and maybe she shouldn't let other dwarves go through it?

We don't even have a party divided on what to do with Solas (kill or talk it out)? Even though it's logical to have companions who are convinced that Solas has to die and those who think that he is misguided and can be convinced to stop.

Also, there are NO companions whose background, viewpoints and attitude would rile other companions up. We have no controversial characters whose interactions with the crew Rook would have been forced to intervene in unless they want their team to start throwing hands with each other.

We could have had Imshael - to give EVERYONE a reason to worry, and argue, and have conflicts. We could have had an ex-Venatori Calpernia bashing heads with Neve, Bellara, and Emrich. We could have had a Qunari spy who'd make Lucanis' dagger-arm itch.

If writers didn't forget about the Architect, we could have had an intelligent Darkspawn companion Davrin could be losing his shit around.

Or heck, we could have had a former red templar who got partially (magically?) reversed from their mad state and is now not a mindless beast, but still is on a borrowed time, probably needed due to their strength, but barely tolerated by anyone.

Who is fanatical, mostly because they have to believe they made a noble sacrifice, that it all was for the greater good -- because the truth scares them to their core. Who gives Lucanis shit for being an assassin and abomination, who bashes necromancy, and mages, and talks about purity, while downplaying their own actions as "Yes, these are my sins, but they are for the better world, and I would be proud to die for that world unlike you heathens who would rather ruin it than repent for your flaws". The kind of companion you'd initially want to do nothing with, but who can reveal an entire gallery of fucked up contradictions and trauma if you decide to keep them around.

However, writing such companions takes skill, courage, and requires absence of greedy corpo "we don't want to scare away new players with all that moral nuance" thinking.

[welcometothemaraudersspam]

intoxicating p.2 | s.r

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word count: 4.3k

warnings: smut, cussing, jealousy?, nothing too crazy guys. but i can definitely make some kinkier stuff if you’d like *muah*

mdni por favor

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part 1 here / aaron version here

A small part of you couldn't believe it had worked. Chewing on the bottom of your lip, your body not halting its movements as the song continued on playing. You swore on everything that you could hear your heartbeat pounding, as you made eye contact with the guy who had clouded a good chunk of your mind all night.

The smallest chuckle left Derek's lips, as he pressed a longer than necessary kiss on your cheek. Detangling from your body, clapping the brunette's shoulder as he took his current spot. The nervous man wrapped his arms around you like he was scared you would regret it as soon as it came, your hands running up his chest and to the back of his neck a small smile on your lips.

"I didn't expect you to come over. I thought you didn't like dancing," You whispered against the cusp of his ear, his grip on you tightening his mind getting lost in the sensation of your sweaty body against his. He seemed at a loss for words her giggling against his neck driving him insane. Before he could utter any words the girl pressed a soft kiss against his neck instant goosebumps appearing on the visible skin she could see. "Morgan and I had just barely started-"

"I couldn't watch the either of you anymore," Spencer mumbled against you, your small kiss still sending waves of shock throughout his overwhelmed body. "I-I couldn't bear the thought of another man being as close to you as he was... my mind just kept telling me that it should have been me."

Your heart fluttered at his words, tightening your hold around his neck pulling him closer. "You could have just asked,"

Fuck. Every ounce of your body was trying to stop itself from pouncing on the glossy eyed agent.

His eyes were blown wide open, his hands trying to memorize every inch of your body. His touch leaving a trail of chills, your lips parted open. The strobes of light flickering across your face lighting your face up in a delicious manner, not wanting to blink and break eye contact.

The alcohol was doing all of the work now, leaning to press an open mouthed kiss on his neck. Spencer hissed at the sensation, his head thrown back as he allowed your mouth to decorate his neck in your sparkly gloss. Your sober self was screaming at you to get it together, your fellow co-workers most definitely watching as you made a mess out of the younger boy.

"Please. I need to kiss you."

Before you could react, Spencer had cupped your face in his much larger hands and crashed his lips into yours.

For a split second, you had thought the music had been turned off.The ringing in your ears should have concerned you but you paid no mind.

The sensation of Spencer's lips on yours all your mind could focus on.

Your hands quickly found his hair, entwining your fingers into his chestnut locks. Spencer's hips instinctively found yours, grinding against you out of force of habit. A groan leaving both of your lips. A small part of you hadn't known Spencer would be this intense of a kisser but he poured every ounce of his being into this kiss. Like he was speaking with his actions. His mouth moved against yours like he was being starved from your touch, allowing your tongue to part his mouth as he moaned against your lips. His chest was growing heavy from the lack of air, but he didn't care.

His body just wanted more. More of you. And damn, he couldn't get enough.

"Spence," mumbling against his now swollen lips, trying to pull away so you could breath. But the brunette had already moved his kisses down to your neck, soft moans leaving your lips. The sensation of someone burning a whole onto your head made your eyes flicker up to where you knew you would find the harsh gaze of Aaron Hotchner.

What a sinful sight.

Your glazed eyes making eye contact with him as the brunette coated every inch of your body he could see with his lips.

Straight out of a nightmare.

Knowing the girl he was pinning after was being pinned against a wall by his friend.

Hotch felt like every inch of his body was on fire. And not in the way you had made him feel only moments prior. He needed to leave and take the coldest shower of his life, hoping it would erase the memory of your lips interlocked with the spewing fun fact machine.

The same lips that he was close to kissing.

The same lips that were flirting with him only moments before.

And now-

Spencer had your body in a way only Hotch could imagine of having you. Every part of your body was so responsive, leaning into his touch to show him he was doing everything right. A small part of him wanted to walk over there and yank you away from his touch. He wanted to crash his lips into yours, and show the younger man exactly how to touch you. He wanted to slam you against a nearby table, and mark your body to let everyone else know that you were his.

Only his.

Not Spencers.

Not Morgans.

His.

Almost as if someone else had a hold of his body, heavy thuds ringing in his ears as he found himself making his way over to her. Your frantic hands tapped on Spencer's shoulders, his actions not faltering. His brain having turned off relying on his instincts.

"Spence- Hotch is- fuck- he's coming over."

The mention of Hotchs name made something click in his brain. Popping his lips off of your neck, proceeding to move to your abused lips. His mouth slamming against yours a small gasp leaving your mouth, using this chance to allow his tongue to enter your sweet mouth.

Jesus christ. Who the hell was this guy?

His tongue left not a single inch of your mouth untouched. His moans sounding like heaven in your mouth, not wanting to stop the boy in your hazy state. Your panties stood no chance against him. Knowing they were behind soaked at this point, clenching your legs together to create some type of friction.

"Mn- spence- stop. Please,"

"Please what sweet girl..." A moan left your moan at the sinful way he moaned your nickname, trying to push the brunette off your limbs not cooperating with what you were trying to convey.

"I think she said stop, Reid." A small shudder ran down your spine at the cold tone of the taller man. Spencer just about snapped back into reality, realizing he was doing all of these activities in front of his boss. The bespectacled boy turned around less confident than he was when he was destroying your neck, his hold on you faltering.

"Hotch, it's okay. I just needed a breath-"

"You should know when to stop, Spencer. No matter what. You of all people should know this." His curt words were slicing through the sexual tension, leaving you standing there like two kids being scolded by their parents.

Spencer ran his hand through his tousled curls, chest rising up and down as he tried to catch his breath. Your now empty hands fiddled with the metal hanging around your neck nervously, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"I think this is a good time to call it a night," Your words landed on deaf ears, seeming that was the plan before Hotch had made his way over to you. "I'll go find Pen and Morgan."

Leaving Hotch and Spencer didn't seem like a smart idea at the time, but you just wanted to get out from in between them. Shaking your head at your antics, finding Penelope pretty quickly her giggly form told you she was pretty gone.

"Morgan, I think Hotch and I are ready to go. Are you guys ready?"

"Yeah, let me go get pretty boy. He asked if we could take him home as well." Your heart dropped even further into your stomach, hands fiddling with one another at the thought of being stuck with them again.

You brought this on yourself.

You did this to yourself.

Fuck me and these stupid ass men.

Your drunken state made the trip between the bar and into the car a haze, the only thing you knew was that you were sandwiched in between the hottest people you have ever seen in your life. Holding your hands around your body, in fear of them going and doing something stupid again.

Hotch's intense stare was focused on the road ahead, his knuckles a stark white. He was clutching his jeans in a tight grip, trying to hide his frustration from the soft girl beside him.

What did Spencer have that he didn't?

Was is that he was young and cute?

Was it all of his fun facts that kept her wrapped around his finger?

Maybe she thinks I'm too old for her.

His subconscious was feeding him every possible scenario, believing them over and over. Before he could dig a deeper hole for himself, the sound of car doors opening snapped him out of his trance. His eyes fixating on your house, not having realized they had already arrived.

Spencer held the door open for you, his hand extended to you as you thanked him softly.

"Want me to walk you to your door?"

Yes please.

Before you could argue back, your body had already accepted his offer slipping your arm through his. Turning around to face the car, biding everyone a farewell your eyes hesitating over Hotch's. Not being able to ignore the unrecognizable emotion written all over his face.

"Morgan, you can go ahead without me. He can just spend the night here. What's the worst that could happen?"

The sound of Morgan laughing at his choice of words made the vein on the side of Hotch's forehead throb, trying to ignore the suggestive tone in Morgan's response.

"Don't have too much fun with him, sweet girl. I want him at work on time and in one piece."

A small giggle left your lips, saluting the chauffeur as Spencer led you away. The soft chirps from the crickets were all that you could hear, the cold air feeling nice on your sweaty frame.

"I hope you're okay with me spending the night- I know we've slept in the same room together before, but if it's too much I'll just sober up for a bit and head on home. Should take me about an hour and 37 minutes to be fully sober-" Spencer rambled grabbing a hold of your keys, expertly opening your front door as he held it open for you. Your scent slapped him right in his face as he made his way inside, locking the door behind him flicking the lights on.

Your house screamed you.

All of your little knick knacks around the house, the way you decorated your house just made sense.

It was like he could see your exact thought process on where you had placed your furniture, the decorations.

The colors you picked all worked well with each other.

Whoever walked in and saw your place would be able to know what kind of person you were.

Spencer had only seen your house from the entrance of your front door, but seeing it in all of its intimate details made him feel a little warm.

A smile making its way onto his lips as he locked eyes on a picture of you and the BAU team. Everyone in the picture was smiling straight at the camera; except for you. Your head was thrown back a laugh frozen in your expression, your fingers on Spencer's bicep whose arm was resting happily beside you. He could see the fondness in his eyes, noting the way everyone just moved into you. Spencer remembers this day in a fonder memory than he does every other day- he was able to have a special part of you that no one else could touch.

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"Did you know that Texas' state flower is the bluebonnet?"

"I always thought they were more of a weed." Morgan questioned, tucking his sunglasses into the neck of his shirt. You smacked his arm at his comment.

The team was currently on a case in Texas. More specifically, on the side of a highway in Texas. The sound of people speeding by made you a little nervous, but you felt safe surrounded by all of your fellow co-workers. That and the fact that the sun was your biggest enemy at the moment. You had lived in Texas for the longest before pursuing the F.B.I., the agonizing sun reminding you of one of the worst and best things about Texas.

Currently sporting your not work appropriate tank top and some bootcut jeans to match your matching cowboy boots. It was hotter than a mother, no one would say anything about the dress code as long as you were still able to move.

You figured what better time to bring out your pride and joy than now.

Elle hadn't stopped growling at you the second she had seen your outfit, whispering sweet nothings to you in spanish. 

Making you wonder why you hadn't pursued Elle any sooner.

"That's rude." Crouching down by the blooming field of blue, touching the petals lightly. "They're a gorgeous flower. Their color is so vibrant! The petals look like the bonnets women used to wear on their heads- look!"

"I think you've been hanging around pretty boy too much, sweet girl."

"If I was, I would have been able to tell you that bluebonnets are a part of the pea family and of the-"

"- North American lupinus genus." Spencer finished for you, a wide smile coating his features dimples poking out. His cheeks a bright red, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

The brunette was dressed in semi different attire, a pair of black sunglasses hanging off the tip of his nose. He rid of his usual cardigan leaving him in just his baby blue button up, the top button undone leaving his glistening collarbone exposed. You had barely been able to concentrate when he looked that good. Licking your lips slyly as you eyed the taller man from your position on the grass.

Morgan rolled his eyes at the boys words. His hand reaching down to grab your hand lifting you from your dazed state, a giggle left your lips as he about hoisted you off the ground.

"Thank you, handsome." Teasing the dark haired man who just smirked at your flirting, wrapping an arm around your waist. Immediately regretting the decision as the heat between the two of you became unbearable pretty fast. Before you could split, you felt a someone jump on your back their arms wrapping around your neck . Turning to face JJ who was giggling at her current position atop your back.

"JJ, what in the-"

"Hey! No group hug without me!" Penelope shouted, running towards you a huge grin etched on her face. A bubble of laughter tumbled out of your lips, her shorter frame placing itself directly next to Morgan's who happily wrapped her up as well. Elle had somehow snuck in as well, her body lying horizontally on the plush grass. She fanned herself with a manila folder, her hair blowing in the small gusts of wind.

"Come here, pretty boy."

"Oh no, I'm perfectly okay not being surrounded by sweaty bodies-"

"Spence! Get your big ass over here," At the sound of your sweet voice hitting his eardrums he trekked over to you. Derek had moved over so he could be in the middle, alongside the girls giggling frame as she held onto JJ tightly. Spencer gently rested his arm against yours, not wanting to invade your personal space but you had other plans. Happily resting your unoccupied hand on his bicep, squeezing him happily a huge grin on your face.

"Everyone smile for the camera." The sound of Gideons voice made everyone get in position, their sweaty faces looking at the older man who bore amused expressions on his face. Your hand never once faltered on Spencer's arm.

He knew it was medically impossible; but his heart felt like it was going at light speed. Trying to regulate his breathing as he grinned at the camera.

"Sweets. What do you a call a small pepper in late autumn?"

The most genuine laugh that could ever come out of you bubbled out, throwing your head back at Gideons question. The rest of the group eyed you with a bewildered look on their faces, except for a pair of hazel eyes. Spencer bore the most awed and adoring gazes he could ever bare, as they saw her wipe the tears from the corner of her eyes. 

"A little chili!"

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Spencer chuckled at the memory, setting the picture frame back down.

"Of course not. I- I was kind of hoping you would want to anyway," The blood rushed to your face fiddling with the back of the couch behind you, facing the taller man with a smile on your lips. "I can't guarantee that I will be able to do a whole lot of talking tonight."

"Whys that, sweet girl?"

The name slid off of his tongue deliciously, clenching your thighs together as you fumbled to find the words. You felt the air shift almost instantly, eyeing his frame his hands tucked into the front of his slacks.

"I think- I um- my brain would be able to form coherent sentences when I'm not as intoxicated as I am right now. I'm not drunk- by any means. But I definitely wouldn't trust the words leaving my mouth. They would just be screaming at you to just shut up and kiss me-"

Spencer took your words literally his body moving before he could process it. Slamming his lips against yours. Your body instinctively followed him, fumbling your fingers into his feather soft hair. The brunette moaned into your mouth, pressing you against the back of the couch his grip on your hips tight.

A soft whine left his lips as you grinded against his half hard member, not wasting any time in sliding his slender fingers under the hem of your dress trailing it up your thighs ever so slowly. Your hands fumbled to his shirt, unbuttoning the buttons like second nature exposing more of his torso.

"I can't believe- mm- that you're kissing me right now- fuck me."

A deep chuckle rumbled his chest, his lips parting from your already marked neck. Spencer wouldn't bring himself to admit that he liked seeing you covered in hickeys. Hickeys that he made.

"Jump up for me sweets." Following his instructions without hesitation, your legs wrapping around his waist hands cupping your thighs tightly. The bespectacled boy made his way around the couch, gently sitting down with your legs on either side of him. "Fuck... you look gorgeous. I just want to eat you out so bad."

Moaning at his confession, instinctively grinding against his now too tight slacks. Spencer's mouth was parted as he eyed you in awe, his hands guiding your hips back and forth on his cock. Your clit was getting all the friction it could possibly get with only your panties to cover your soaked cunt. Feeling your arousal seep through the thin material, leaving a wet spot on his dark pants.

"Pretty girl... oh you're so pretty when you moan." Spencer's praise went straight to your head grinding on him at an embarrassing speed on his lap, his hands groping your exposed skin his finger trailing along the hem of your panties.

"Spence- please. I need your mouth. Your cock- fuck- just anything please."

Spencer could come right then and there if you had asked him to, shoving you off his hips laying you flat on the couch your legs spread wide open. He shrugged his shirt off exposing his slender body your shaking fingers trailing down his torso making their way to his waistband.Shaking his head at your needy whines, laying on his stomach to get closer to your soaked panties. A soft moan left your lips as he wrapped his arms around your thighs getting comfortable, his warm breath fanning over your leaking cunt.

"Please don't hold back on me, sweet girl."

Before you could utter any words of protest, Spencer had slid your panties to the side and licked a stripe up your slit. Hissing at the sensation of him on your swollen clit, bucking your hips up. He chuckled against you looking up at you through his lashes, enjoying the view of you gripping the couch cushions in a tight grip. Taking a deep breath as he delved in, his mouth leaving not a single inch of you untouched.

He moaned at the taste of you feeling himself getting addicted to your arousal his lips wrapping around your clit, feeling his cock harden at the sinful sounds leaving your lips. Your head was thrown back chest heaving up and down, your fingers trying to find something to grasp. 

"My hair."

"Mm?"

"Your hands- grab my hair." Without a second thought you trailed your hands to his head full of curls, allowing your fingers to tug on his feather soft hair. A guttural moan leaving his lips, sending waves of pleasure down your legs. "Just like that."

Spencer adjusted his hold on your thighs his free hand toying with your clit as he used his tongue to fuck your spongy walls.

"Jesus- fuck. God, Spencer. Please..."

"Mmm" He hummed against your puffy lips, not faltering his movements as he eased two of his slender fingers inside your warmth. Feeling as full as you did should be illegal, clenching your eyes shut as he fucked you gingerly not wanting to make you cum quite yet. "I want to see your eyes, sweet girl."

Fluttering your eyes open locking eyes with his dark eyes. The sight of your glossy eyes was enough to make him want your cum to coat his cock, speeding up his slick fingers carefully inserting a third feeling you clench around him. 

"Fuck! Yes… please don’t stop-"

A pair of sticky lips pressed against yours shoving his tongue in your mouth as he fumbled with his slacks, tossing them elsewhere. He couldn't be bothered to remove either of your garments, tugging his cock out of his briefs a soft hiss leaving his lips at the freeing sensation. Stroking his slick covered hand over his cock, coating it in your sweet juices. 

"I'm on the pill. Please. I just want your cock deep inside of me," You blabbered out too far in your haze to form coherent sentences. A soft chuckle left his lips, lining himself up with your cunt enjoying the way you shivered at the sensation of his leaking cock against your abused hole. "Spence.."

"I know pretty girl. I just want to soak up every bit of this,"

Soft gasps left your lips as he eased inside your walls, his scrunched up face let you know he was trying to hold back. Taking matters into your own hands wrapping your legs around his hips, using your entwined feet to push him deeper into you bottoming out.

"Fuck..."

"Fuck me like you mean it."

His eyes darkened even further, snapping his hips against yours a loud moan leaving your swollen lips. Pulling out all the way enjoying your whines of protests, his body seeming to move without him needing to think .

Fucking you like he had never dreamt of anyone before, soft pants leaving his body as he felt the coil tightening inside. 

He didn't want to stop.

Not when you looked so heavenly yet oh so sinful below him. 

Your hair was splayed on the couch, your doe eyes looking up at him as he destroyed your pretty little cunt. The sound of his cock squelching with every thrust would be engraved in his brain forever, quite literally. Already replaying every moment in his head, as he leaned down to press a feverish kiss to your lips wanting to inhale every bit of you.

You tasted so sweet. 

Oh so sweet. 

Your cunt tasted just as sweet as your lips did. He couldn't get enough. Your walls clenched around his cock, a groan leaving his lips giving you a harsh thrust enjoying the loud sounds he was able to pull from you.

Having been on the edge this entire time, his cock feeling like a heaven sent. You didn't want this to end, having stopped yourself from cumming like your life depended on it. Not being able to hold it back anymore your hands clawing at his back for something to hold.

Taking one look at his face, his glasses had been tossed somewhere on your rug. His eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the sounds leaving your body. A small whine left your mouth as you took every inch of him in.

"Jesus... Spence. I'm-"

"Cum for me sweet girl... I'm right behind you," He mumbled into your lips his tongue having found his way back into your mouth. Those words were all you needed to hear, arching your back off the couch a groan leaving your lips as you writhed under him.

Every last inch of your body felt numb. Everything had gone foggy. Feeling a new wave of content wash over you as you began to climb down from your orgasm. 

The feeling of Spencers thrusts speeding up made you tighten your hold on his back your nails digging into the soft flesh. Heavy grunts escaped his lips at every thrust, his hair clinging to his sweaty forehead. The sight of your lips parted open, your breasts bouncing with the harshness of his thrusts sent him over the edge his hips sputtering with every snap of his hips.

Shooting ribbons of his cum deep inside your velvety walls, a soft moan leaving your body at the filling sensation. The brunette didn't dare move his body tingling as his chest heaved up and down.

A soft giggle broke him out of his trance, his eyes snapping up to your flushed face. Your hands were covering your face as you giggled into your hands, peeking an eye open at the confused boy.

"Wha-"

"Morgan is going to absolutely murder me. Look at the state of your neck," Your comment send the two of you into a fit of giggles, shaking his head at the girl who looked up at him with a wide smile. Your eyes blown wide open eyeing him with something he couldn't quite place.

Where had he seen that look before?

His mind immediately blanked, only being able to focus on one thing flashing in his mind. 

The picture.

The picture of him and the team. The only person looking down at you; was him. The same twinkle in your eye as you eyed him flushed face was one he had seen on his face countless of times. Feeling his heart rate pick up tucking a strand of your hair behind your eyes, enjoying the warming of your cheeks under his large hands. Spencer couldn't believe someone as sweet as you was his.

 Who could have ever know?

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hey you lovely’s! i’ve been watching criminal minds for like the first time ever!! and i’ve been obsessed with just about every character on that show. please, if you want to send me any requests feel free to do so <3 i think i’d be open to write just about anyone and everything so :p thank you guys!!!! lots of love and kisses

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a/n: GUYS WHAT PLEASE IM SCARED. FILTHY. let me know if yall enjoy <3. this is my first criminal minds fic. considering making an aaron option??????? lmk if i should pursue

[cultofdixon]

It was worth it

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Impatience is real. Stubbornness as well. Daryl just wished he took the damn thing from you before you decided to let your one brain cell act impulsively • SFW/NSFW - Implied smut / Nudity • TW: Minor Injury

Requested by: Anon

Daryl wanted to test his bike out before going on recruitment runs with Aaron. He trusted his build enough to have to girl test it out with him. Y/N always loved the motorcycle rides they went on back during their prison days so she wasn’t turning this down.

“Yea ready?” The archer watches his girl step out of the house they were given in one of the town house strip.

“Yup! I didn’t really bring much. Think we can find some things while we’re out?”

“If we run into a place, yeah. But thought we’d enjoy a quick ride”

“Oh well. We are in the wrong place…” Y/N smirks swaying in a playful manner making her partner’s face turn best red instantly.

“I hate you…”

“You love me” She smiles bringing herself close and kissing Daryl feeling his arm wrap around her with his hand trailing down. “Mmm…” she hums against his lips before parting. “Maybe I can go for a ride later”

“Mm. If the bike doesn’t take us out out there” Daryl chuckles lightly feeling her lips return to his for one more kiss before finally getting on his bike.

After Abraham let the two out of the community, the ride went smoothly. Daryl did a good job with building this bike and he was enjoying himself that he got to do something he enjoyed in the old world…and with his girl.

The two stopped at a small strip and rummaged through some of the stores as Y/N found herself in a small convenience store. Daryl stood outside lighting himself a cigarette and keeping an eye out for anything while she went through it. He dropped the cig when he heard her scream inside.

“JACKPOT!”

Daryl quickly ran over to Y/N seeing her hold up a jar of peanut butter which made his annoyance show instantly.

“Seriously?”

“Bitch. It’s the creamy kind too. Not the gross crunchy one you found last week”

“The things I do to satisfy my girl and she disses it” Daryl scoffs playfully, helping her stand from her crouching position. “Remind me not to bring yea back anythin’”

“What! Just because I wasn’t happy that one time?!”

“You can’t tell when I’m teasing huh?”

“Oh I can tell…just. In bed” Y/N smirks making her man blush to her words before she exits the building squealing happily.

The archer did one last sweep of the place for anything useful to the rest of their community, watching Y/N struggling to open the jar where she stood beside his bike.

“Wait til we get home, and I’ll open it there”

“I’ll open it. But yeah this deserves the comforts of our home. In bed”

“Not in bed. Why yea eating in the bed?”

“I can be lazy if I want. You ever heard of breakfast in bed?” Y/N questions him watching the confused look return. “Remind me to spoil you one morning. But fine I won’t eat this in bed”

“Come on crazy girl. Let’s go home” Daryl took the jar from her hands seeing that death glare of hers come out. “Turn around. I’ll put it in your bag”

“You better!” She playfully threats listening to him scoff once again, feeling her backpack shift which meant he actually put the jar in her pack. “Thank you”

“Mhm” Daryl zips up her pack before resting his hands on her hips a second as he leaned into her from behind kissing her cheek. “Now come on” he pats her butt in a playfully manner as she did the same to him when he approached his bike. “Seriously?”

“I’m not the only one with a fine butt”

“Stop” Daryl rolls his eyes getting on his bike and feeling the shift when Y/N got on and wrapped her arms around his middle.

Once they returned, the jar of peanut butter was forgotten about given the two returned late and Daryl had about enough of his girl’s flirting. The second he stepped off his bike after Y/N and kicking the kick stand up, Daryl took her face into his hands smashing his lips firmly against hers. She was taken back by the action before wrapping her arms around his neck continuing to kiss her man.

“Mmm—“ Y/N pushes him off gently. “I ain’t strippin’ in the streets, D”

“As much as that would be a show, only I get to see yea naked” Daryl quickly picks her practically running up the small stairs, and kicking the door open.

When he past the threshold, Y/N kicked the door closed before slipping out of his arms to rid herself of her clothing. She slowly backed away from him as every article of clothing of hers fell to the floor. Daryl didn’t know to take her right then and there or grabbing her and carrying her the rest of the way to their bed.

“Like what you see Dixon?”

“Always”

“Then come and get me, sunshine” Y/N smirks using the nickname for her on Daryl which somehow riled him up as he quickly closes the distance picking her up and taking her to bed.

A few hours pass and Y/N stretched some of the soreness of her body out as she got up in the middle of the night. Or morning rather. It was still dark out but her body was telling her to get some water. After a couple rounds with Daryl, she needed much more than just water to recuperate. Maybe a day of sleep. She quietly slipped out of the bed feeling the wobbling in her legs that made her stumble. He was not gentle.

Y/N decided that since he wasn’t shy about leaving his bruising mark on her that it’s only fair for her to wear his shirt and boxers while she went to get water.

“I feel like…I’m missing something” She whispers to herself and then remembered.

The peanut butter.

That’s when Daryl stirred when he heard commotion happening in the other room. He felt the empty space beside him and knew it was just Y/N. Probably getting water…maybe she’ll figure out how to get ice for the claw marks stinging on his back. He suddenly flinched when he heard Y/N curse loudly in the other room.

“The fuck she get into…” He groans getting up and out of the bed, grabbing his sweats from the other night that were still on the floor of the room slipping those on quickly.

The archer enters the room seeing the back of Y/N on the couch as he can hear the satisfied humming from her. She finally got to eat her peanut butter. Since he was up he decided to get himself water and as he reached for a glass he noticed blood on the counter.

Daryl stopped reaching for a glass and checked if it was fresh or dried and it was definitely fresh.

“Hey, did yea make yourself a peanut butter sandwich and nicked yourself or something?”

“No?”

“Then why is there blood…” Daryl turned to his girl seeing her in a huddled position on the couch with her arm holding the jar of peanut butter and not her hand. For obvious bloody reasons. “Oh my god. What the fuck?!”

“What!” Y/N yells back as she scoops another spoonful of peanut butter with her uninjured hand and immediately eating it.

“Why are you so fucking calm?! Your hand is a geyser!” Daryl snaps grabbing a towel off the kitchen counter and walking toward Y/N about to wrap her hand when her whole body retracted. “Hey now, you’re fucking bleeding”

“I am well aware” Y/N hissed when he tried reaching for her hand again. “It’s just a scratch”

“That’s a goddamn flesh wound!”

“And?” She scoffs clearly ignoring the fact that she was bleeding a lot, granted her mind was elsewhere. “Can you hand me those?” She pointed with her foot to the crackers on the coffee table, seeing Daryl’s extremely confused face. “Fine. I’ll grab it”

As Y/N grabbed the crackers from the table after setting the spoon down, she went back to her huddled position on the couch now eating the peanut butter with the unsalted crackers she took from the pantry the other day.

“You’re starting to piss me off”

“Why? I was hungry. Couldn’t open it. Found a way and now we are here” Y/N laughs slightly as she continues to eat like no issue was happening, even if her hand started to sting a bit.

“Y/N. You should go see the doctor”

“I’m sorry, last I checked this is my stab wound. Not OUR” She waved a cracker around before scooping up some peanut butter with it. “Now let me enjoy my peanut butter IN PEACE—-before I get blood on my crackers”

“You are getting blood on your crackers though”

“Huh” She looks at the situation in her lap. “Well at least it’s my blood” and went back to eating.

The next day crawls in and Aaron decided to visit their residence to ask about the ride they went on yesterday. He knocked happily and was met with Y/N in the same attire she was wearing last night. Daryl wears practically only black or dark clothing. Aaron couldn’t see the blood stains. But he did notice the heavy bandage on her hand.

“Oh no what happened?” His worry caught Daryl’s attention as he approached the door to see Y/N give it a good thought before smirking.

“Vigorous love making that involved a bit…” Y/N leaned in a bit. “of knife play” she whispers watching Aaron’s face flush which made her laugh as she made her exit back inside the house. Leaving the two to share a bit of awkward silence.

“Y/N went to stab the lid to her peanut butter jar last night and missed the first time”

“Oh…thank god it wasn’t the other thing”

“Mm. She was lying about the knife play. Not the other thing” Daryl smirks deciding that was the end of that conversation closing the door on Aaron.

Leaving the poor guy traumatized.

[babybluewiki]

Oops make that Revy and/balalaika one with a fem s/o, just saw you only do fxf

ur all good; i love revy and balalaika :3

Pairings: Revy x F! reader

Revy with a sweet but violent gf! <3

warnings: typical violence 🤔, cursing, only half a part being posted,,,,,,,🤫

ok so let’s literally ignore the fact i posted this 2 years after the ask was sent 💀‼️‼️ and the fact i couldn’t finish balalaika’s part so i cut it out 😭.

Revy

revy, perhaps the scariest woman on earth (next to balalaika) was into women after all?! truth be told, that shocked revy herself as much as it did her other friends, probably herself even more if she pondered about how or why or even when it all started. though if she thought hard enough, she dates it back to last year when she met a particular sweet girl who seemed to always be like that: sweet, kind, and seeming to have no hate in her body. boy, was she wrong. she saw that girl-- you-- beating the shit out of some guy in the alleyway because he was hitting on your friend.

revy and rock were simply walking around roanapur when the two of them were beginning to hear faint grunts coming from some alleyway. rock was the first one to check it out while revy didn't think it was worth her time and stayed behind until rock eventually had to get in the middle of the beating, attempting to pry you away from the poor man.

"isn't that enough?!" rock shouted once he got to you and the guy you were beating up; he was lying on the ground, his arms folded over his stomach in pain after you were stomping on his stomach over and over again. your frown, which was the nastiest one that rock had ever seen (possibly worse than what revy gives him), quickly left as you looked up at him with a grin. "why do you get to determine what's enough for him?"

"because he's just a man!"

you scrunched up your face, turning to face rock with a frown. for a moment he had a little bit of hope in his eyes that you'd stop, but that went away as quickly as it came when you took your foot and pressed it against his shoulder, dislocating it after a moment had passed, and a spine-chilling, blood-curdling scream came from the man underneath you. revy even found herself grimacing at the reverberating sound that was probably heard from the other half of roanapur.

"that's what you call a man?" you look back down at the cripple beneath you, his left arm clutching his right one as he was cowering down in both fear and pain, two things you think go hand-in-hand. "what a weak man."

"she doesn't seem that bad," revy comments to herself, paying no mind to the fact that rock heard it himself and sent her a look. you eventually removed your foot from his shoulder then stood on both feet and turned to face them.

"uh, i'm rock, and this is my friend revy--"

"don't you ever call me your fuckin' friend."

"i'm rock and this is revy."

you slightly perk your eyebrows upwards at the pair; they looked pretty good together, you would admit, if you didn't just hear revy threaten rock. while you were checking them out, your eyes scanning the both of them like you're a robot, revy was giving you a dirty look when you glanced back at rock.

"i'm y/n," you said rather politely, a stark and confusing contrast from your attitude and actions earlier, which baffled both rock and revy to an extent. revy was a bit appalled, though she seemed indifferent. rock was clearly shocked, but he had to remember that this was roanapur, every bit of crazy goes on here, and that very well includes a polite girl with manners turning into a merciless menace.

"forgive me for being rude earlier, may i buy you both drinks?"

"cut the horseshit politeness facade, we know you don't give two shits about our forgiveness."

"being polite gets you in many places," you grin as you begin to walk past them, stopping right when you leave the alleyway. "are you two coming?"

"she did apologize," rock nudged revy's arm a bit with a knowing look on his face. knowing revy, she did not trust you, at all, but she's not dumb enough to turn down free drinks, so she went instead of throwing a hissy fit.

going out for drinks that night with rock and revy ended with a shootout, not unusual. you did feel bad for the owner, he just wants to run his bar. when you walked out with them (unscathed, much to rock's surprise), you offered to walk them back to wherever they were going, but revy was adamant about ditching you right then and there so she dragged rock off back to dutch and benny.

time and time again, the two of them would see you around roanapur, be it beating up some other low lifer in a secluded area or walking around the city with one of your friends. revy would scowl at the sight of you seeming so polite around your friends, knowing that you're a real monster from when she first laid eyes on you. she doesn't hate that, you've gotta be ruthless in a fight to win, but at least be upfront and honest about yourself, or at least that's her way of thinking.

when another shootout happened at the bar for about the third time that month, you just so happened to be on the other side of the bar where you'd been sitting there, looking so fucking prim and proper, like you've been groomed for perfection your whole life when you're far from it. revy's eyes landed on you, watching you with eagle eyes as your nimble fingers picked up the glass, just barely swirling it around and talking to the person next to you with much warmth and richness in your voice. she could practically hear you from across the bar, talking about whatever the hell she thought you were talking about with those words rolling off of your tongue and escaping your smooth lips. wait-- why is she paying attention to your lips, of all fucking things about you?

the shootout started only a moment after revy spotted you, which was why she was a bit startled when she heard the first gunshot, because she was paying so much attention to you. after that night she didn't see you again for months, she thought you'd somehow died, which baffled her for a while because of how menacing you were in that alley. but eventually she got over it and moved on with her life.

that is, until some random boat decided to bash heads with dutch's torpedo boat.

"what the hell?! who the fuck is that?!" revy shouted from the front before turning to face dutch in the window. he didn't have time to answer, so he simply shrugged behind the window as he steered the boat away from the other the best he could. his efforts amounted to nothing when the boat shot large grapples onto his, and a platform pushed itself out from the body of the ship.

"did you miss me?" your voice comes out just as rich as she last heard it. revy can't believe herself, or the figure standing in front of her, seeming proud of itself for making such a dramatic entrance. there you are, standing in front of the torpedo ship, one step away from joining as you stand there, the back of your trench coat flying and flapping in the wind as the sea breeze blew past everyone, eventually blowing part of revy's hair in her face.

"you wish i fuckin' did, what the fuck is all this shit?" she frowns, pointing her gun at your ship and everyone on it, then back at you. your hands remain in your pockets as the two of you stand there face to face, a mere foot away from each other. your eyes dart around in revy's background, momentarily glancing at dutch, who was aiming his gun at you, finger on the trigger and ready to pull, then you look at rock, watching him stand there with a look of shock on his face. it amuses you, so you smile slightly, then you finally look back at revy.

"what the fuck are you smiling at, asshole? there's nothin' funny about this bullshit stunt you and your dipshit crew's pullin'."

"i see you're still violent," your gentle smile turns into a smirk, an equally teasing glint in your eyes, and the more revy looks, the more visible it is. "you can't fucking talk, you beat the ever loving fuck out of some guy in an alley."

you simply shrugged and shuffled your hands in your pockets. revy looked down at one of your pockets before she lowered her left arm, pointing it at your right pocket with her gun. "hands out the fuckin' pockets right now, missy."

"alright alright," you take them out, holding your hands up in a state of defeat. revy narrowed her eyes for a moment, debating on whether she should look through your pockets or not before she let her thoughts win and shove an intruding hand into your pocket, rummaging through, but she ultimately found nothing.

she sighed, lifting up your arm again and keeping you at gunpoint. "what is it you want, asshole?" she grumbles out, her forehead creasing as her eyebrows knit even closer, forming a ripple on the bridge of her nose. you shrug after a moment of thinking, "i dunno, we were simply cruising around and we saw your ship, and at first i wasn't sure if it was you, but then that beautiful hair was unmistakable.

"cut the shit and stop lying, what the fuck did you want?" she grits her teeth, moving her cutlass upwards to press it against your forehead. your eyes follow it, almost crossing as you're barely looking at her finger resting on the trigger.

"believe me revy, when i say i only wanted to talk to you."

"why'd you wanna fuckin' talk to me?"

"because you're cool, and very interesting at that."

revy grinded her teeth against each other, tempted to pull the trigger and blow your brains out. she would, if she weren't so busy paying attention to that goddamn smirk on your lips. that charming smirk she sees makes her want to gag, she's sure you've given that same smirk to all the pretty men you see just to leave the morning after. what she didn't know, was that you didn't use it on men, quite the opposite, one would think.

"are you trying to fuckin talk me up or some shit?"

"no," you shake your head, a small chuckle leaves your lips as you do so. "would you like me to?"

“what the hell?!"

you took your chance to grab her gun from her hand while she was still confused by your words, then grabbing her by her elbow and flipping her around, her back hitting your chest as you held her own gun to her chin.

revy reached into her other socket, grabbing her other cutlass and holding it up to the side of your head. your finger pressed lightly against the trigger and your grip on the rest of the gun tightened as the seconds passed, no one saying a word or moving at all. the waves and the wind blowing were the loudest sounds at the moment.

"put the fuckin' gun down, or i blow your fuckin brains out," she grumbled, pressing the cutlass harder against your temple. it didn't hurt, but you still pressed the gun against her own temple even harder. "do it, there's a whole crew waiting for you on the other side of this platform," you emphasize by tilting your head back towards your own ship, with your own crew pointing their own guns at revy. she barely turned her head to see the crew before she already got a good view of the handful with M4 Carbines.

"i've taken out way more than that, so they can fuckin' have it, but it's your fuckin' choice, dipshit."

"let me buy you another drink, it's the least i could do since we're out in the middle of the coast."

all revy could think was, is she serious right now? you're offering her drinks when you're holding each other at gunpoint? despite the fact you nearly crawled onto dutch's torpedo ship, stole her gun and currently are holding her at gunpoint at the moment, she never says no to free drinks.

"alright, fine. but you better not fuckin' pull some fuckin' bullshit like this again, dickwad," she brought her arm down, letting it fall to her side as you removed the gun yourself. you removed your other arm from her waist and handed her the gun back, to which she shoved both of them back in their socket.

after that event, you had to convince dutch, benny and rock to join revy in the hull, since that's where you had a bar be put in and hired a bartender as well. the four of them seemed curious, and you couldn't help yourself so you went on to explain that you're a smuggling company: in exchange for smuggling goods and whatnot, you're paid in money and a collection of drinks, like different brands of beer, whiskey, rum, etcetera.

"why the fuck would you get rum, of all drinks?" revy questions, looking at the rum sitting across the bar with a stink eye. you hum, looking in that direction as well. "some part of my crew likes it. i always make sure to do a round check to see what drinks the crew wants before i get it," you turn back to face her, then rest the side of your head on your hand. revy scrunches up her face before taking another sip from her glass, "just how rich are you? you've got your own fuckin' bar on a fucking ship that looks like throwback 1769 and you've got some of the most expensive fuckin' brands on the planet."

you shrug, "i can't tell you that. i'm a certified gatekeeper."

"screw you," revy shakes her head disapprovingly, biting back a chuckle from escaping her now pursed lips. your own lips stretch into a toothy grin as you swivel around the glass sitting in the grasp of your smooth finger tips. revy feels your eyes staring at her, so she whips her head around to find you flashing her a charming grin that pissed her off to no end.

"fuck you and that smug look on your face," she grumbles as she lifts her glass up to drink the whole thing in an attempt to hide her now rosy cheeks.

"what? does it look too good for you?"

"shut up," she grumbles again as she brings her arm up to wipe her nose as if it helps with her cheeks. you chuckle as you watch her try not to look embarrassed.

after that night, things went back to the way they were before: rock and revy seeing you around roanapur, beating up some guy or walking around with a friend. that smirk you gave her still lingers in the back of her mind and whenever she thinks about it, she can't stop the blood rushing up to her cheeks. it confuses her, to say the least, because it only happens when she's thinking about you, another girl. rock asked her about it since he, benny and dutch were all noticing how she's been acting lately, and dutch and benny all decided to put rock up to the job to ask about it.

it took a long while worth of asking and convincing, but revy finally gave in if he would finally shut up about it. she told him what was going on, and rock immediately jumped to the idea of feelings. that definitely set her off, ending with her stating she'd never talk about this stuff with him again while she stomped away from the bar, knowing that he might be right.

though the chances are small. but never zero.

"revy, when are you going to talk to y/n again? she seemed really nice, other than when she threatened you."

"that's up to her, she has to fuckin' talk to me," revy shrugs as she plops down at her signature chair at the bar. rock sighs resting his elbows on the wood, then he turns around when he hears the door open again.

"you might not have to wait that long, look," rock gently pats revy's arm, pulling her attention towards the door that just opened. there you stood, looking as smug and charming as ever as your eyes scanned the room, seemingly looking for revy.

"she's over here!" rock yells, pointing his thumb at revy sitting next to him. her face immediately turns red when she sees you glance at her, and you stroll over towards her with something in your hand.

"do i still look too good for you?" your voice is as warm as her cheeks and as rich as you look, holding a singular white rose with your fingers. revy takes a moment to glance at the flower in your hand, then scoffs as she turns to face you with a frown. "the fuck are you doin' here?"

"came to talk to the most beautiful girl i've ever seen, of course," you hand her the rose as she glances down at it like it's a foreign object. she gives it a stink eye before reluctantly taking it in her own hands, still not bothering to smell it (she never saw the joy of smelling flowers.)

"why a white rose? i thought red was the fuckin' standard," she grimaces looking up at you with barely pink tinted cheeks. you shrug, "red's overrated."

somehow the two of you are closer, because everyone in the bar is cheering and chanting for the both of you to 'kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!' revy was having none of it, though she couldn't deny how sweet this was of you, but not in a good way. she finds it concerning, knowing you could switch up any minute.

unfortunately for her and very fortunately for you, the pressure put on by everyone else caves in on the both of you as revy leans in hesitantly, breath reeking of alcohol and smoke fans against your face before you close the gap, slotting your lips against hers.

the previous statement still stands, revy liking women shocked herself as much as it did rock, dutch and benny and almost every other person in roanapur. even balalaika was a bit surprised when word got around eventually. you and revy were quite the pair, she's still rude like she was before, but always gets into fights with people if they're rude to you.

she's still baffled, to say the least, at how she caught feelings for someone-- let alone another girl-- who looks like the pussiest of all pussies on the planet. that certainly isn't the case, and people shouldn't really judge something just by the looks of it, but that's how revy thinks.

still, the two of you remained a cute couple, and it's best we leave it at that.

[permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88]

My parents were the first to teach me to see myself as ‘less than.’

Not in so many words, of course, and not explicitly.  If asked, I know for a fact they will deny this reality to their dying breath.  And maybe an argument could be made that I was (and still am) reaching, where this is concerned.  Maybe I am, and all of their gaslighting when I try to explain this to them is actually true.  Maybe I’m the crazy one.  But I’m asking all of you to indulge me anyway, because what if—

What if I’m not?

My earliest memories as a kid go beyond being taught basic manners and respect.  As I’ve grown older and spent more and more time thinking about stuff like this, trying to dig out the why behind some of the mindsets I’ve adopted through the years, I’ve learned that for them, it was less about respect and more about complete, unquestioning compliance with their will.  Of course, I can recognize the wisdom in that, depending on the circumstances.  If a kid is rushing, full-speed at danger, you want them to listen and stop when you tell them, and you can’t always afford the time it will take to delve into an explanation as to why that stop is necessary in the first place before they comply.  

I’m not talking about that type of situation, though.  Rather, I’m talking about any act.  Any conversation.  Any opinion I had, from a very young age, where I differed from them, and they retaliated, despite how my perceived “deviance” truly would have had little to no bearing on my continuing health, or safety.

If it didn’t match up, 100%, with their own thoughts and expectations, I had best change my behaviors/actions immediately, or risk severe consequences.

I can remember coming home from church one Sunday, after some vague transgression, and being screamed at, at 5 years old.  “Who the hell are you, and what have you done with my daughter?”  I can still see my mother, kicking her shoes off in the hallway, in my general direction, and me, ducking out of the way of the flying projectiles as she was storming up the stairs to leave me with my screaming father.  Whatever I’d done, it clearly failed to live up to who they thought I should be.  How they thought I should represent them.  And I was going to pay the price.

Sure, this did teach me to toe the line.  To behave.  To be the girl who was “far more mature than her age, a genuine pleasure to have in class.”  And maybe that’s not always a bad thing.  I did learn how to show respect, and how to treat people—all people—as human, and I value that more than anything.  I never wanted to be cruel.  But what it also taught was that anything I wanted, or needed, or thought?  It always had to fall underneath the desires of others, or there would be a punishment.  

And that punishment did not always fit the crime.

Fast forward to my first friendship.  A girl who was not raised like I was, she was confident in herself, even in kindergarten.  Sure of her place in the world, and her worthiness of love.  That confidence astounded me, and intimidated me, and when she tested the boundaries between the two of us, however tiny they might have been at the time, given our age, I immediately fawned.  Capitulated.  Whatever she wanted, she got, without a fight, and whether on purpose or not, she grew used to that, and continued on.  How could she know to do any different, when I never once acted like I minded at all?

Still, it reinforced how I thought my life was supposed to be.  I didn’t recognize it as such at the time, of course, but the people-pleasing tendencies were already firmly in place.  As I grew, and found other friendships, or at least what I imagined were other friendships, the same sort of patterns emerged.  

Confident, and potentially domineering alpha friend?

Check.

Me, giving in to their every whim, to keep them as a friend because I was terrified of being alone?  Because being alone, somehow, would mean that I was even more inferior than I already felt myself to be while sometimes being blatantly and openly disrespected and mistreated, and I sure as hell couldn’t afford that?

Double check.

And then, enter the time when most of the girls my age were finding their first boyfriend, and I was still, predictably, single.

It added an entirely new layer to the inferiority complex.  Not only with the obvious “something must be wrong with me, since no one ever shows interest” side of things, but with the “my friend canceled plans at the last minute because her boyfriend wanted to do something instead” angle as well.  I often asked myself why would anyone want to spend time with someone like me, voluntarily, when they had something else better to do?  Someone else better at their side. 

And again, I said nothing, because only having a part-time friend was still better than no friends at all.

By the time I reached high school, I can’t honestly say if pure chance kept me finding these so-called friendships, or if I was somehow unconsciously seeking them out by this point, because they were all I felt I deserved, but it created an interesting situation at home, as well.  (And by interesting, I mean…not in a good way).  My parents were flabbergasted as to why I put up with this treatment.  They would spew vitriol my way about my “wrongness” for choosing these allegedly terrible people to spend my time with, and demand that I “stand up for myself” as though it was as easy as flipping on a switch.  As if they hadn’t created this perfect, meek little people-pleasing mess with their own hands, words, and actions.

I was being criticized at home, and at times openly bullied by these ‘friends’ at school, so there wasn’t a second of escape from it, at all, and when I dared to inadvertently take out my frustration at the entire situation on—you guessed it, my parents—we returned to the “consequences” stage as easy as breathing.  Punishment was far more of a routine in that house than praise ever was, and how could it be any other way?  How could it, when the things I was praised for—grades, performances in band and dance—became what was expected of me, instead of something to be celebrated (and you might have already guessed, any transgression here was punished as well).

It was just a matter of what that punishment would be.  Spankings and groundings turned into guilt trips, facial slapping, and screaming matches almost overnight.  And so, the cycle of drilling into my head that I was to be meek and subservient at all times continued, even if those specific words were never once spoken out loud.

So why am I rambling about this at all?  Honestly?  It’s not because I’m against discipline, or boundaries, or making sure that, if you’re out there, raising a child, you’re helping to develop someone who will treat others with respect and kindness, and compassion as well.  

Rather, it’s because in the process of training and developing young minds, stressing the importance of obedience when necessary, and so much more, it is imperative that there is some sort of balance.  That compliance when needed is still achieved (particularly as it pertains to the health and safety of the child and those around them), but that it is not emphasized at the expense of the child developing any autonomy and confidence in their own right.  Demanding that your child become a mirror image of you, a puppet on your strings to do with as you will because you’ve drilled into them early to never question you?  

That is just a one-way ticket to a lot of pain and heartache for years to come.  At best it will create a shell of a person with no real self of their own.  No experiences and feelings that didn’t come about because of someone else’s orchestrations, and at worst?

At the worst, it will create a constant internal voice in your child that tells them they have no right to their own thoughts and feelings.  That anything that doesn’t match what someone else tells them to be, think, or feel, is inherently wrong, and that they are somehow at fault, and horrible people for it.  It will teach them to quiet that part of themselves that is in any way ‘different’ because being different is unacceptable to the two people who were meant to show them the meaning of unconditional love.  

And lastly, it will teach them that they were put on this earth for the sole purpose of belonging beneath the weight of someone else’s boot.

[harrisonarchive]

George Harrison and Sir Jackie Stewart at Donington, June 1979; photo 1 by Express/Archive Photos/Getty Images, photo 2 by Maurice Rowe.

First, the backstory to these photos:

"I’ve never raced seriously myself, but I had a go in a Formula One car, with quite an old 3-liter- engine car. I’d drive round Brand’s Hatch in one. And I drove in a charity for Gunnar Nilsson, a Swedish driver who died of cancer, because I gave the money from the ‘Faster’ single off George Harrison to Gunnar’s cancer fund. Anyhow, they had this day for the Gunnar Nilsson campaign at the track in England and they asked me to drive this 1960 Lotus, which had won a race in Monte Carlo when driven by the great English driver Sterling Moss. This car had no seatbelts, and because it had been in a museum for 20 years the tires were hard with no grip on them, yet the car was still pretty quick! But they assured me it was just a demonstration run, going round for five laps in formation and then five laps at your own pace. So I said I’d do it. I got there, and it’s Jackie Stewart in the Tyrrell he won his ‘73 championship in; James Hunt in the McLaren. Phil Hill in his famous Ferrari. I’m walking to my car while chatting with driver John Watson about the pleasure of the run we’re about to take, and he says, ‘You’re joking. There’s no racing driver that goes in formation! As soon as they drop that flag, they’ll all be gone like crazy!’ Sure enough, as soon as the checkered flag fell, the other cars went whoosh as mine puttered along in a haze of smoke! By the time I got to my first lap they were already coming behind me for their second lap, screaming away! Scared me stiff! [wild laugh] But at least I did better than James Hunt, who broke down on the first pass." - George Harrison, Goldmine, November 27, 1992

More on photo 2:

“I have never seen the photograph before as I can recall, so it is a really nice thing for me to have. Thank you so much. Ironically, last Tuesday evening, Livvy [Olivia] Harrison came up to have dinner with me and I would love to have shown her that and I am sure she would have been amused and would have also enjoyed it. Thank you so much for thinking of it.” - From Sir Jackie Stewart’s letter, 22 December 22, 2006, as sourced from an auction listing (x)

“George was an extraordinary musician and the sweetest of men, and, over the years, I grew to adore his gentle nature, his music, his deep spirituality and his friendship. [...] If we had been dropped from the same height, George would have been a feather, drifting this way and that on the breeze, and I would have been a lead weight plunging straight down: the point is we would have both there in the end. There were times when we could have been living on different planets, times when George was procrastinating over what to do and I would be decisive and all action, or waring amazingly casual and way-out clothes when I would be more traditionally dressed. Yet there were many other times when we seemed so similar, paying the same fanatical attention to detail. He could be amazingly fastidious, keeping his cars immaculately clean and taking such care and time over his gardens, both at his home near Henley, England and in his tropical paradise on Maui. This determination to get things exactly right extended to his music. George would work and work until a song was totally as he wanted it to be — not just right, but precisely right, so precisely right that it would almost sound as if it had evolved naturally, out of nothing, dreamily and effortlessly. [...] [Since 2001] we have stayed very close to Livy and Dhani, who has grown up to bear such a striking resemblance to his father, both in his appearance and his mannerisms. For me, George was a true friend who opened my eyes to so much that I would otherwise not have seen, and who in his calm, gentle way gave me a new perspective on living and dying.” - Jackie Stewart, Winning Is Not Enough (2007)

“The story really on that tune [‘Faster’] is since I was kid, like twelve years old, I got into motor racing and motor cycle races — not actually racing myself but as a spectator. And there was a track, racetrack in the place I was born, Liverpool, where they had grand prix races from time to time. So I started out when I was about twelve, just before I got into the guitar. It was always interesting to see in other areas of life who was wearing the long hair. And in motor racing, Jackie Stewart became the world champion in, I think, 1968, and he was the first guy with long hair and who had opinions, and he was a big Beatle fan. I had a book that Jackie Stewart had written which was called Faster. I thought, good, that’s the title. [chuckles] So I lifted the title, and once I got the title I was away… I wanted to write in a way that was like a story and would also relate to people who weren’t into motor racing. The only thing that limits it is the sound effects that I put on later." - George Harrison, KMET, 1979

“[George] was just a good man, a real gentle man. He was a fantastic thinker. He had one of the best minds of anybody I have ever met. He had his own beliefs, but as he got older he wasn’t someone who couldn’t get on with anyone who didn’t share that opinion. That was one of the nice things about George. Here was I living a whole different lifestyle from George, a different pace. As time passed we became close, which seemed to confirm the old saying that opposites attract. While I liked to organize my life with military precision, George took a more laid-back approach. The thing that most impressed me about him was he was very sincere. George told it like it was. He was very straight. He didn’t like people who were fakes. If he said he was going to do something, he would do it.” - Jackie Stewart, The Beatles In Scotland (2008)

“George had a great soul. His instinct was to forgive rather than to condemn and, when people behaved badly, he would make excuses for them. I learnt so much from him. In the late 1990s, when we started to spend more time in England, we saw more of George, his wife Livy and their son Dhani. We always enjoyed our visits to their home at Friar Park which George took great pride in restoring: reviving the underground canals and the 60-foot mountain modeled on the Matterhorn in Switzerland, complete with Alpine flowers and streams. He spent endless hours contentedly tending to the plants. ‘I'm a gardener,’ he would say.” - Jackie Stewart, Winning Is Not Enough (2007) (x)

[space-blue]

Hi, I'm not sure if you've talked about this before and it might be silly to ask this, but I'm curious about your opinion:

There was a scene that surprised me quite a bit in episode 6 when Vi escapes. Initially, Silco was sitting calmly, and then boom! Everything explodes. It's understandable, but it's strange because Silco has always reacted in a cautious and calm manner, except for one time in episode 3 when he was talking to Vander. After that, he has been someone who knows how to stay calm. I've seen people say that Silco's reaction is because he's a megalomaniac who doesn't like anything being out of his control, but I don't think that's the case. I think it's something more complex. I see Silco as someone who internalizes everything to maintain control or appears to have it, keeping his thoughts and emotions to himself. That's why you see Silco exhaling or releasing tension before and after meeting with his associates, but I might be wrong. Anyway, I'd like to know what you think is the reason for Silco's actions.

And I'm sorry if I made a mistake in my grammar, I don't speak English very well

Hello anon! Thank you for reaching out and asking me this question... It sends me back to my Arcane meta days with a big smile on my face.

But honestly, I don't know who looks at Silco in that episode, having finished the story, and thinks he screams because he's megalomaniac. Not only does this not go with the rest of his character, it just fails to comprehend his character arc.

Silco doesn't want power. He wants freedom, and he wants his mission to realise itself. Silco has more of a religious fervour to him. He's a zealot. He speaks of the 'Nation of Zaun' with an air of rapture. He believes it, lives only for it. Just because we may not like his ways doesn't change that. I mean look at this guy :

#fully lost in the sauce

A character who really wants power would be Finn. We see him fallen to the trappings of wealth, plotting to uproot Silco from his position. Finn never shows any care for the cause. He only cares about supplanting Silco.

If Silco truly cared about power, then why is he still leaving down deep, on top of a night club? If he's a megalomaniac, why are his list of conditions for Jayce not covering him, but demanding amnesty for his people and equal access to the Gate for commerce?

No. Silco isn't a megalomaniac. He definitely wants to be in control, but that's hardly surprising for a leader. We also only ever know Silco at crazy important moments of his life, where his plans are running wildly or exploding in his face. It's not exactly every day Silco.

Most of the people we see him interacting with also tell us things : of course he needs to be ruthless and in control while facing Marcus. That man would lash out at the slightest show of weakness. Same with the other chembarons, who actively turn on him after the factory attack (that makes him look weak).

Silco isn't a control freak to be a jackass. He's like that because he's a Zaunite, and a Zaunite in a dangerous position of power. He's shaped by his environment too.

Anyway, why does he lose his cool in episode 6?

It's actually a very short answer! It's because of Jinx.

Jinx is his everything. Across my many meta posts I covered how codependent they are. How she physically abuses him, yet he never reaches out with any force towards her. The most violent he is, is after she nearly ruined his life plans and won't listen, and all he does is snatch a pen from her hand to make her pay attention.

They exchange caresses, rest against each other. He keeps her gifts on his official desk and actively uses them. And in the end, he can't accept her mortality, and sacrifices everything he's suffered and fought for his entire sad, fucking miserable life, because he loves her more than his cause.

So why does Silco lose it? Because Vi is alive, Vi is looking for Jinx, and Vi is the only person who could actively take Jinx away from him.

I mean like a day or two prior Jinx lost her shit and nearly killed Sevika because she saw a pink haired girl. Silco takes her to the pilt to try and soothe her and put her demons behind her, the only way he knows how. And then she happily gets to work! She's doing well!

But Silco isn't dumb. He knows Jinx is unstable and unpredictable. And finding Sevika hung like a ham from the ceiling? With a broken arm? Yeah, he knows she knows, and she's pissed... And he KNOWS that he just told her that VI IS DEAD. Which he 100% believed! Since when Sevika tell him about Vi being back he's like "From the dead???" in total horror and disbelief.

Marcus completely blindsided him, and it's a race against time now.

A race in which if Vi lives and finds Jinx... His Jinx, the only person he thinks he has... The girl he loves more than his cause, even if he hasn't fully realised it yet... Might hate him. She might decide to leave him.

Then he'd be alone again. And uhm... IDK if you all noticed but like... Silco isn't exactly a picture of clean mental health either. He's trauma ridden, set in very harsh ways, and has a solid spark of paranoia (which has kept him alive, but also isolated).

So the Silco screaming and spitting and kicking is a Silco who thinks that potentially everything will be fucked up now. He's stressed about the developing situation (the one where he asked his unstable daughter to basically make a nuke with stolen uranium, while juggling an increasingly strained sheriff and actively traitorous colleagues), AND the potential idea of his ONE person, his one broken, fucked up, twisted emotional bond, potentially being ripped from him.

Last time that happened, Vander was trying to drown him.

So he's just in a Bad Place™️

Cut the poor man some slack ahaha. I think it's normal that the mask finally cracks and reveals his emotions.

Silco isn't a cold character! His speech to Vander shows his zealotry and his passion! He has a dark humour too, and is aggressive and bitter when cornered. Silco wears a mask of cool professionalism when it's convenient, which is very often, as a leader in the undercity. But he also shows lots of emotions whenever suits.

I don't think you can be a cold character and stay riveted on your insane freedom fight for like 20+ years. He's got a big fire burning in there, and the scene in episode 6 is the proof of how hot it gets when he thinks he's about to lose it all. All your examples of him 'reining it in' are great too! He clearly has strong emotions. He just manages them a lot.

I hope this answers your question! AAaaaahhhh look at me, I just went and gushed, didn't I?

Thanks a lot Anon. And your English is better than some native speakers I know, so don't worry! <3

[highfantasy-soul]

NATLA Episode 8 - Legends (3/4)

[Masterlist of my NATLA thoughts]

Of course, full spoilers ahead.

<previous/next>

Aang hearing all the past Avatar's advice to him before he makes his decision makes him merging with the ocean spirit make more sense and temporarily closes his character arc. Here's where I think people are riding on nostalgia and not seeing what this decision means to the live-action Aang. In the animated series, his decision to merge with the ocean spirit comes out of nowhere, he just somehow knows that he can merge and it'll unleash a 'super crazy powerful spirit attack' on the Fire Nation. There's not much more thought in it other than 'all hope is lost, we need a deus ex machina' and I just so happen to be able to do that. In the live action, Aang is following the advice of the past Avatars: Kuruk's indication that the elemental spirit's powers are greater than the Avatars, he's putting the needs of the world above his own, he's willing to give up his own future to secure one for everyone else, he's trying to do it alone (with the ocean spirit, but still), BUT he's still 'running away' - he's STILL having a power greater than himself do the heavy lifting.

Like we learn in the Guru episode in season 2, in order to take the Avatar state, you have to surrender everything, all your attachments, and become a conduit for pure energy - we see Aang do this as he takes a deep breath and his tattoos glow and his eyes light up, the echoing voices of all the past Avatars in his voice. He's surrendering, but as we'll (no doubt) see in future seasons, it wasn't a 'balanced' surrender. It was a surrender of despair and resignation of his fate. Through the next two seasons, I'm sure we'll see Aang working on how to take that state in a healthier manner.

I love Aang's speech here - about how he should have been lost 100 years ago, this isn't his time or his world - again calling back to how he couldn't save the air nomads, but he CAN save the people now, and he's willing to give up himself to do it. Because the power of the elemental spirits is far greater than even the power of the Avatar. So he gives himself to the ocean spirit to become wrath itself and save the world. I like that Aang's struggles revealed in The Storm episode of the animated series lingered until this episode - Aang struggling with not 'belonging' in this time is a huge aspect of who he is and I like that the live-action gave it room to breathe.

Iroh's relief at seeing Zuko alive is beautiful, meanwhile Zuko is staring slack-jawed at the giant fish screaming at the sky. It's pitch perfect that Zuko is ready to fight Koi-zilla for the Avatar - he's really that crazy and desperate to capture Aang! I think it was a great choice to merge parts of the first Agni Kai with Zhao in the animated series to this point in the live-action. Zhao and Zuko do face off during the siege, but Zhao in the live-action was always more of a cerebral antagonist to Zuko - they focused on that aspect of him rather than the physically imposing antagonist he was in the animated series.

This is Zuko taking out all his frustrations about his life out on a singular target - he's just 'lost' the Avatar for good, Zhao destroyed what little hope there was to reconnect with his father (as it looks like Zhao told Ozai Zuko is a traitor), and he tried to kill Zuko. Zuko thinks if he can just beat Zhao in a fight, maybe he'll get some manner of relief. Unfortunately, Zhao being the cerebral antagonist he is, physical defeat doesn't win the day - Zhao still beats Zuko by throwing the truth of his family dynamic in his face.

They moved the monologue Zuko gives to Aang about his relationship with Azula (while Aang is unconscious) to the fight with Zuko and Zhao. While I like both, I think having that convo as the 'send off' to Zuko in season 1 was a good choice. It makes Azula's presence felt in the narrative the entire time (because she was behind Zhao's successes) instead of her just being a random after thought that doesn't affect the story until season 2. Giving Zhao the speech to Zuko that destroys Zuko mentally was a great choice. Zuko has been running from the truth of his family for so long and Zhao knows it'll destabilize him. He lays it all out in the open - how Ozai wanted to get rid of Zuko and would never take him back, how he was just motivation for Azula, and how the favorite child had already been chosen: and it wasn't him. Everything Zuko had been working toward this season, burned to ash, revealed that it was never going to happen, all that hard work had been worthless.

In the animated series, Zuko just ends the season having lost the Avatar once again. In the live-action, he's destroyed not due to the Avatar, but because of his own family and their games. He's mentally broken far more than he was in the animated series and I think that will put him in a much more interesting position at the start of season 2. When he says 'I'm tired' at the end of the episode, it's not because it was just one more bid to capture the Avatar that failed, it's because his entire world has been shaken.

The Ocean spirit confronting the Fire Nation ships was haunting. No music, just the sound of panicked shouting, the low moaning of the spirit, and the horns of the ships. It's such an eerie scene and even though they're the enemies, you feel the terror now taking the Fire Nation as they face down the wrath of an elemental spirit. Yue explaining how the ocean spirit will wander the world forever looking for its partner but never find it gives me chills every time. It's such a tragic concept and the way they juxtapose that with Katara calling out for Aang, being there to pull him back, is really beautiful.

I love that they give Yue the agency in her choice to give her life back to the moon spirit. In the animated show, Iroh notices her eyes and suggests she can do something, in the live-action, Sokka is looking for ideas and she realizes it herself and chooses to give up her life for the spirit. It's such a great touch that she can still waterbend - because she has the moon in her. Her speech about how it's worth it to live, even for a night, is something that belies all the advice of the past Avatars - they argue to hold yourself apart, to sacrifice any wants of your own for the sake of the world. But Yue argues that it's worth the risk of losing things you love - getting the chance to feel that love is worth the pain of losing it.

Katara talking Aang down out of the Avatar state and control of the ocean spirit was so well placed here. Like I've said before, I think having Gyatzo's memory calm Aang in the first episode rather than Katara like happens in the animated series and moving Katara's speech to the end of the season was a fantastic choice. It bookends the lesson of the season for Aang - letting go of the past so he can start moving on into the future. Katara's pleas that 'we're a family now' to Aang in episode 3 of the animated series feels hollow - we accepted that line because it's a kid's show and they wanted to hammer home to us that these three kids are going to be your protagonists going forward and they'll be a family. But until that point, they'd known each other for a few days - they weren't ACTUALLY a family. Here, at the end of the season, that claim of family has been earned. They've built the foundation of a real connection that's been battle tested and tried many times. It's TRUE that they're a family now, that this IS his world and he's more than 'just the Avatar'.

The ocean spirit turning to look at the restored moon is such a beautiful shot - honestly this whole thing is shot just so beautifully.

"The world needs you. I need you." That statement is soo true and I love how it was shown through the season before being told to us.

Aang is exactly the person the world needs now - someone who knows the suffering and loss of this world, but also knew a better one where people were kind and helpful and there was no strict divide between the nations. His childlike belief in the goodness of humanity is what's needed in an Avatar for this time, not a hardened person who's never seen diplomacy work. If fate was at play when Aang got frozen in that ice, then it knew what it was doing: Aang is the only Avatar soul that would be able to save the world now.

[batheir]

“hey there, kitty cat. haven’t seen you at breakfast.” selina’s manicured fingers drum against the doorframe of her daughter’s bedroom as she lets herself in, carrying a cup of hot chocolate with some whipped cream and extra marshmallows. alfred helped her make it, but it’s the thought that counts and the idea’s solely hers. “thought you could use some extra sweetness in your life,” she offers, setting the cup on the nightstand, atop a pile of hardbacks. her heart aches with a quiet, persistent worry. that boy has trouble written across his forehead. her daughter can keep saying that he’s only a friend, but she wasn’t born yesterday. she can recognize the familiar symptoms of that immature kind of infatuation from a mile. “i know you probably don’t want to talk about him, so i can do the talking and you can do the listening if it’s easier that way.” there’s a mix of frustration, fear, and helplessness brewing within her chest as she sits down at the edge of helena’s bed, hand tapping her ankle, giving it a gentle wiggle. it’s like watching a storm approach, knowing there’s nothing she can do to stop it. she’s noticed the subtle changes in helena, the moments of sadness or uncertainty masked behind forced smiles. her motherly instincts scream at her to intervene, to protect her child from the pain she knows is coming, but she hesitates, torn between wanting to shield her and knowing her daughter must make her own choices. come to her own conclusions. if she pushes too hard, love and concern will nothing but resistance. “and i won’t be talking about harry. let’s stop pretending that dimwit matters.”

head lifts from sitting on her bed, "hi, mommy." fingers stopping their movements against purple guitar. helena was just about to start a cover of complicated by avril lavigne for her tiktok page. all of that's pause when warm eyes find her mom has brought hot chocolate and obviously a reason to pry into what's going on. it wouldn't be like helena to hide anything from either of her parents, but all of this really was so complicated... she didn't know where to start. it's crazy how she doesn't have to. stunned for a second when she even knows it's more about the OTHER one and not harry. "right.." a sheepish chuckle escapes, picking one of the marshmallows off the hot chocolate and eating it before confessing. "first, thank you for bringing this." sweetly smiling after swallowing. "and secondly, that dimwit doesn't matter. but it's the other dimwit..." attempting to say in a joking manner, "alexander. that has been bothering me just because – i thought we were friends and we had a big argument that led me to see how he can really act so differently. i promise, i'll return back to normal though. you don't need to worry about me. i just need time to figure out the reasonings for his actions." @catlucked

[jazzythursday]

8, 19, 43, anddd 58 for the SOC asks ❤️

I don’t know how this got so long but be prepared for very waffle-y answers (hehe)

8. What crow do you think you are the most like?

Ahhh, I have never felt so decisive in my life as I do about this question. I think I took one look at Wylan Van Eck and immediately started projecting. (That usually happens with most awkward/anxious/nerdy/artist characters, but especially Wylan.

First things that come to mind: he’s both worryingly chill about some things and simultaneously an anxious mess, he can be sassy but also very reserved most of the time… Thinking about it now I really relate to how contradictory a lot of his traits/thoughts/actions can be.

Also low key the way he went his whole life with no name or explanations for his disabilities and grew up without anyone to tell him that it wasn’t because he wasn’t trying hard enough hits maybe a lil too close to home 😅😅😅

19. Who was the most compelling antagonistic character to you?

Hmm 🤔… this is hard because Leigh’s antagonists are all really interesting!

That being said, there’s SOOOO much about Dunyasha that gets me! Especially about her being Inej’s “shadow”. Since Inej is the Wraith and a lot of her skills already lie in being unseen/quiet/blending into the shadows…then what does her shadow look like? Like if the the question is what is the shadow of a shadow, then the answer we get is apparently this crazy, blond, self-righteous mercenary dressed in all shining white clothing calling herself the white blade and talking about being on a mission from god basically. All the ways she’s written to be Inej’s opposite are just… *screams incoherently*

Just… ahhh. It’s the symmetry, ya know?

(I’m forgetting details but I think also her background is super interesting. Very cult-y and ominous. 100/10. I don’t know if they ever get brought up again but I’d love for whatever group she came from to get used in a later plot as a Big Bad)

43. Do you have a favorite minor/background character?

I haven’t read the books where David and Genya feature as more prominent characters, but I love them. They’re…so in love? In the sweetest and most heartbreaking way?

Outside of the Crows they’re definitely my favourite ship and I’m still so sad we’ll never get to see David meet Wylan and Jesper because they would have SO much to talk about! I need Wylan and David nerding out about chemistry and blueprints and talking to Jesper about Durast stuff.

Side note: I love the way Luke plays David and all the mannerisms and quirks he used (him waving at Alina while handcuffed in a plank of wood makes me giggle every time) and I don’t know what it is but “Keiragan cut off Baghra’s finger!!!” — “We need to leave!!!” Makes me laugh so hard. Maybe because their freak out is the most realistic reaction to the Darkling lmao. No messing around just “this guy is crazy! I think we should run away! Yes?!”

58. Share your thoughts on (insert character/ship/plot point/etc)

Oh do I pick? Oh god, my ultimate nemesis: making decisions…

So, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I’ll probably always gravitate more towards the show characters, but that the books do a great job of showing us the different cultures and nuances of the Barrel and (while I hope they’d get more into that in the crows spinoff 🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻) I think it’s one of the things that I miss the most watching the show vs reading. The Komedie Brute, the crow and cup tattoo, the Barrel flash vs Mercher clothing, the Dregs, Ghezen and trade being sacred in Kerch… there’s just a lot of symbolism there that I wish we could have seen. The canals also aren’t mentioned at all? And maybe that’s me being nit-picky but they seem like a really big part of Ketterdam in the books and I think it would have been cool to see how it impacts traveling in the city and how they plan around it.

Thanks for the questions! 💖

[innerpalaces]

The Life of a Cannon Fodder Mother-in-Law - 30

Chapter 30: The Deceived Mother-in-Law 30

Zhao Zhenyan couldn't accept the painful loss of her child.

She lost her child, and it would take several months before she could get pregnant again. Liu Chanchan was already pregnant, so would a concubine be the one to give birth to the eldest son? Especially since Zhao Zhenyan had been poisoned, if her body was ruined, wouldn't she have to live under a concubine's heel for the rest of her life?

Just thinking about it for a moment made Zhao Zhenyan go crazy. She ignored the people around her and went straight to the side courtyard. Many servants tried to stop her along the way, but to no avail. Cheng Rumeng had indeed wanted to teach her a lesson, but she was a little panicked when she saw Zhao Zhenyan rushing over like a madwoman to settle the score. However she was not afraid. She frowned and said, "Yan'er, what are you doing?" At this time, Zhao Zhenyan didn't care about anything and rushed up to scratch her face. "You crazy woman, how have I wronged you? Are you still a human being!? You actually harmed your own grandson!"

Zhao Zhenyan put the jade pendant on so readily because she was sure that even if Cheng Rumeng disliked her, she would not do anything to the child in her belly. Unexpectedly, Cheng Rumeng was so desperate and heartbroken that she didn't even care about her own son's bloodline. At this time, Zhao Zhenyan felt regretful and resentful, and she wanted to peel her skin off. She showed no mercy at all. Cheng Rumeng didn't expect her to be so aggressive. She tried her best to avoid it, but still couldn't. Pain came from her neck and she screamed: "Hurry and pull her away!" The servants were panicked, but they didn't dare to use too much force. It took a long time to separate the two. Such a big commotion naturally alerted the Qi family. Even Qi Hechen, who was under house arrest, came running. Grandfather and grandson arrived and brought over a large group of servants. Zhao Zhenyan could no longer take action. She stopped acting crazy and threw herself into Qi Hechen's arms and cried sadly. When a person is older, they would want to have more descendants in the family. The Old Master had been looking forward to holding his great-grandson when he received such bad news. He was already in a terrible mood, and looking at Zhao Zhenyan's behavior, his great-grandson seemed to have been fooled by this woman Cheng Rumeng. He immediately scolded: "Guests should have an awareness of themselves as guests, and not make trouble. Otherwise, get out of here." The words were spoken in a rude manner, and this was not the proper attitude towards guests at all. Cheng Rumeng lowered her head: "Old Master, I came here just to watch over them. I didn't want things to turn out like this. I dare not admit to the young madam's accusation. You all know my identity. No matter what, I wouldn't want anything to happen to the children in their stomachs."

This made sense, and the Qi family all agreed. At this point, only Zhao Zhenyan was sure that she was the murderer. Seeing this, Zhao Zhenyan almost went mad. Fortunately, she'd already had an outburst, vented some of her anger, and regained some rationality. In front of so many people, even if Cheng Rumeng admitted it, the most she could do was drive her out, which was really not satisfying.

She lowered her eyes and said, "Husband, I'm so tired. I want to go back and sleep for a while." Seeing her pale face, Qi Hechen couldn't bear to blame her anymore and took her back to the room. Everyone dispersed. Qi Zhengming lingered, staring at Cheng Rumeng with doubt: "It's really not you?" Cheng Rumeng looked aggrieved: "In your eyes, am I such a person?" She burst into tears: "I have lived half of my life, and the person closest to me is Hechen. I also want to hold my grandchildren..." Qi Zhengming simply could not accept that he had a child with such a woman, and was unwilling to listen to this. He raised his hand to stop her from talking: "It's for the best if it's not you. If you dare to stir up trouble in this mansion, I will not let you go."

After speaking, he left in a huff.

In the next two days, Cheng Rumeng went to the main courtyard to visit Zhao Zhenyan, explaining repeatedly that it was not her who did it. "Yan'er, someone must be deliberately trying t o sow discord between us mother-in-law and daughter-in-law." She glanced out the window: "Liu Huixin has been in this house for many years and has a deep foundation. Even if she is not here, if she wanted to do something secretly, it's quite easy."

The implication being that the person who secretly poisoned her was Liu Huixin. Zhao Zhenyan didn't want to talk to her at all. She leaned back in the bed with a dull face: "The child is gone, and there is no point in worrying about it anymore. Now I just want to take good care of myself and hope that I can have another child soon." After hearing this, Cheng Rumeng's heart relaxed, and she said with a smile: "It's best if you think this way." In her heart, she thought, it's best not to have any children in your life! It was best if Hechen divorced her and kicked her out in two years! Cheng Rumeng finally understood that as long as this daughter-in-law was around, she would not be able to live a good life relying on her son. Cheng Rumeng was right when she said that Liu Huixin had managed Qi Mansion for many years, and even if she was gone, there were still people willing to obey her orders. Therefore, she knew what happened to the Qi family. After a little thought, she guessed the murderer. The Qi family and Zhao Zhenyan absolutely did not want anything to happen to their children, and the only ones who might take action were Liu Chanchan and Cheng Rumeng. Liu Chanchan didn't have the courage, so only Cheng Rumeng could do such a cruel thing. Seeing that Zhao Zhenyan didn't bother with it, Liu Yuniang kindly sent the evidence and witnesses accounts of Cheng Rumeng buying infertility medicine to her. Zhao Zhenyan didn't want to investigate in detail, because she had already confirmed the murderer, and it didn't matter whether she investigated or not. When she saw the witnesses and evidence in front of her, she ordered them to be sent to her dowry house and pretended that the incident had never happened. Her personal maid was puzzled: "Madam, now that we have the evidence, we can ask the master to give you justice!" "What justice?" Zhao Zhenyan said with a mocking look on her face: "Even if she did it, she is still my husband's biological mother. At most, the Qi family would just make her suffer a little. How can it be worth the life of my child?" The maid heard that her tone was strange and did not dare to ask further. Zhao Zhenyan had no intention of letting her go. From that day on, she sent a bowl of tonic soup to the side courtyard every day. Cheng Rumeng felt uneasy and didn't dare to drink this bowl of soup, but there were people around her, so making excuses not to drink it every day... was unacceptable. She also wanted to know if her daughter-in-law was plotting to harm her, so she asked her maid to bring a dog and fed the soup to it every day. After seven or eight days, the dog was still very energetic and even gained some weight. She finally felt relieved and was willing to drink soup.

Within two days, she started to experience vomiting and diarrhea, as if she had a bad stomach virus. Qi Zhengming had no feelings for her, but for the sake of his son, he would not indifferently watch her die of illness, so he asked the steward to find a doctor. He thought it was just an ordinary stomachache, and she would be better in two or three days after taking some medicine. Cheng Rumeng thought so too. However, after drinking the medicine, it was as if she had not taken it, and her illness became even worse than before.

She was a sensitive person and suspected that someone was plotting against her. When Qi Hechen came to visit, she told him that she wanted to change doctors. Qi Hechen couldn't understand: "Doctor Wang is a famous doctor in the city. Who do you want to replace him?" In front of her son, Cheng Rumeng couldn't say that she suspected that Zhao Zhenyan wanted her life. After all, she was the one who made a move first. She said vaguely: "I heard before that if a person is sick you also need to look at some metaphysics. If their horoscopes conflicts with the doctor's horoscope, no matter how good the doctor is, he will not be able to cure the disease. Hechen, just listen to me." Qi Hechen had been studying for many years and was not stupid. He knew that his mother doubted his father, so he was silent for a moment and said, "Okay."

It was still the same after changing the doctor. In just two days, Cheng Rumeng could no longer get out of bed. She lost a lot of weight, her eye sockets were sunken, and she was no longer as beautiful as before.

No one was more aware of the changes in her body than her. Cheng Rumeng completely understood that she was not sick at all. If it was just a simple illness, it wouldn't be so serious. She suspected that she had been tricked. Qi Hechen still had some affection for her. The old couple usually didn't care about anything, and they wouldn't fall out with their grandson just to deal with her. After much thought, besides Qi Zhengming, the only person who would do anything to her was Zhao Zhenyan! She knew in her heart that if she moved out of the house immediately, she might still have a chance to survive. But she finally made progress, and Qi Zhengming had been talking to her a lot more gently recently. Seeing that success was imminent, she was unwilling to give in! "I want to see the young madam." She said to the maid beside her. She thought that even if Zhao Zhenyan was willing to see her, it would take a few days. Unexpectedly, half an hour after she said this, the person in question arrived in front of her bed. "Godmother, were you looking for me?" Cheng Rumeng was drowsy. After hearing this, all her sleepiness disappeared. She looked at the woman in front of her carefully. Because of the miscarriage, her face was still a little pale.  "Yan'er, my illness seems to be getting worse and worse." Zhao Zhenyan's face was indifferent: "Godmother, don't think too much, just focus on recuperating." There was no worry in her tone, as if she were talking to a stranger. The hope in Cheng Rumeng's heart disappeared and she asked: "Do you blame me for causing your miscarriage?" Zhao Zhenyan raised her eyebrows: "Why did godmother say this? I have already explained it clearly. I don't know which enemy of the Qi family harmed me. It must be my bad luck. The child wasn't fated to have a mother-son relationship with me. It has nothing to do with you." Cheng Rumeng fell silent. If her daughter-in-law acted very resentful towards her, she could still take the opportunity to explain herself. After explaining clearly, she may be able to get an antidote. But this daughter-in-law was unwilling to admit it, which made it more troublesome. Her illness was getting worse and worse, and there was no time to test her. She simply gritted her teeth and asked directly: "Yan'er, was it you who harmed me?"

Zhao Zhenyan smiled: "You are my husband's mother. I have only respect for you and have no bad intentions." Cheng Rumeng: "..." "Yan'er, there is a misunderstanding between us." Zhao Zhenyan shook her head: "It's fine. There is no misunderstanding." Cheng Rumeng had no choice but to point out: "The dog I was raising died this morning after drinking the soup you sent." The polite smile on Zhao Zhenyan's face disappeared. She became serious: "Godmother, do you mean that I poisoned you?" She thought of something and chuckled: "The people behind this have really taken great pains to sow discord between us mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. First, they made me think that you harmed me. And now you think I harmed you..." She shook her head: "Godmother, I chose to believe you, so you should also believe me." Cheng Rumeng: "..." She just can't believe it! "In this house, apart from you, I can't think of anyone else who would harm me." Zhao Zhenyan said plausibly: "My ex-mother-in-law hates you to the core. It would not be surprising at all if she poisoned you." 

Seeing that she refused to admit it, Cheng Rumeng couldn't wait any longer, so she clenched her teeth and said: "Since it's not you, I'm going to report it to the authorities!" "Go ahead." Zhao Zhenyan said with a smile: "At a time when my husband is about to take the county exam, father probably doesn't want anyone to cause trouble." Facing her smile, Cheng Rumeng felt cold all over: "Since you can smile like this, it must be you!" "Where's the evidence?" Zhao Zhenyan stretched out her hand to her. Cheng Rumeng: "..." There is none!

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[fraglance]

THE ART OF ARTURO MENDOZA

in a dream-like state, arturo mendoza laid out on a beach towel atop the sandy shores, a joint assembly of stars delicately pressing against his eyelids — in actuality that'd only begun in the midst of his unconscious reverie, as he had vehement daylight beaming down on him. he'd drifted off to sleep the night before, where memory past that eluded him. his drowsy gaze flit around his surroundings, and the lingering tinge of sangria on his tongue hit him right as a splash of water did.

he'd be lying through his teeth if he said the figure before him did not appear to be an angel at the entrance of the pearly-white gates leading to unworldly sights. perhaps even heaven. after arturo ran his fingers through his drenched curls (matted hair), then shook his body like a wet dog outside in the rain, the figure began clear. a few slow blinks later and they are recognized to be the one person he knows like the back of his hand.

god, clario, he sighed in a wistful manner. i could recognize that face anywhere.

a familiar flush rises to said person's cheeks, the accentuating dewy-freckles scattered raindrops complementing her appearance. regardless of the fact that arturo has absolutely — as well as frequently — uttered more intimate things to her in hushed, breathless tones, the observable effect on her is constant. the intensity and bluntness of arturo's words doesn't at all go unnoticed by her. not ever.

she cradles a surfboard beneath her arm as she grins broadly, dimples evident. there's a faint  redness in her forest green doe-eyes that alarms arturo in that moment, his pierced eyebrows raising in response. he stands up immediately — the soft towel that was draped over him tangled up at his waist — and towers over her like a small-scale skyscraper.

she, clairo alvarez, is an artist with a knack for finding that spark in life that creates a rush. an adventurous sort of nature, perhaps. she sets the board against an illuminated sign planted in the sand before she inhales, exhales.

her breath hitches in her throat once arturo is face-to-face with her, attentively looking in her eyes, seemingly trying to find something. when he doesn't do such thing, he allows for each and every one of his feelings to engulf him, warmth occupying his entirety whilst he wraps his arms around her smaller form and says, azúcar, what exactly happened mast night?

a momentary flicker of sadness passes in her eyes before the usual light takes over. she holds onto his bulky arms and squeezes slightly, his affection comforting. in spanish, she murmurs, muchas cosas — when translated back to english: many things. it wasn't yet too late when we left home. we were drinking sangria on the floor of your apartment for a long while. but eventually, we stopped talking to one another about nonsensical things when you said that you craved to go on a spontaneous midnight adventure. not surprisingly, i agreed without a hitch. i would've let you lead me to anywhere, as i trail behind you. like that one quote: 'don't go anywhere i cannot follow.'

he sighs, yeah . . . you're a bit crazy, huh?

she quips, for you, apparently so, and pecks him on the lips, grinning profusely. in that moment, both of their heartbeats are battering drums. but we came here, disheveled and groggy drunk. you fell asleep but i stayed. tried to wake you up, never worked. heavy ass sleeper. . . but anyways, i fell asleep next to you, head on your chest. you woke up once before that, told me you loved me, pulled me closer. the more she speaks, the more her smile gets wider. i told you i loved you and that you should 'really get some rest, you're body is probably screaming at you to.'

the vulnerability of his previous words and actions consume him. his chest ignites with passion. idyllic clouds above loom over the surroundings. with a handful of her curly hair now in his grasp, he presses his lips upon her's and thinks, finally. finally. a labored gasp escapes her at the contact; he kisses the ever-changing grin on her lips over and over and over.

devotion harbors within him and he begins to kiss every visible inch of her upper body. again in spanish, cairo gasps out — at the same time his needy kisses along her exposed shoulder as well as her freckle-covered collarbone resemble a dance of fervor; a soul-bearing touch; and a telling expression of their collective urgency to love (alas, the familiarity) — the words, hasta que no pueda besar más, each word accentuated; until i can kiss no more.

she hugs him to her body, the eventual loss of his touch heavy on her conscious. he is a mind unraveling. the last puzzle piece attaching. the taste of a honeysuckle. the petrichor-scented smell of the earth after the world's endured a storm. and the refreshing feeling of a drink in the summer. and endgame. and her forever. so she gently clasps his hand and presses it against her heart. it only beats at this rhythm for you. tears well in his eyes as he responds by saying hasta que no pueda amar más under his breath.

until i can love no more.

[benoitblanc]

redux ii, aka the reason i am sending david duchovny my therapy bill:

mulder nearly collapsing when he sees scully in the icu brings the sucker punch counter to 4! expect exponential spc growth over the next 45 minutes!

thinking MANY thoughts about "i came here because you asked me to" vs "she lied because i asked her to" vs "then you have to lay it on me." sucker punch count: 6 (one for mulder v skinner and one for the first hospital visit)

unfortunately i get where bill is coming from. like i know he gets worse in the emily arc but with the limited information he has, all the accusations he's throwing at mulder do make sense. like WE know that mulder would rather die than have this happen to scully, and WE know that mulder has been off trying to save her, but from bill's pov his baby sister is dying and her crazy coworker whom she's pretty obviously in love with is feeding her a bunch of lies that are going to make her die faster, and she loves him so much that she'll just follow him no matter what. what we know that bill doesn't is that mulder will also just follow her no matter what

mulder answering the phone on the verge of tears with "one sorry son of a bitch speaking" has no right to be so funny

insane how the syndicate plot in this ep makes absolutely no sense but the character work with the mulder siblings and the scully family is so well-done and heartbreaking that this manages to be one of the best episodes of the show

(yes i know that's not sam. but HE doesn't)

speaking of samantha, props to megan leitch for having three really distinct versions of sam so far. the original clone is this plucky action girl, sort of who mulder i think wants his sister to be, or pictures his sister as. she's the most little-kiddish, the most optimistic. the scientist clones are cool and detached, ready to exploit mulder's greatest wish in order to get his help. and the "real" sam is a skittish, traumatized young woman, a lot closer to what sam probably would've been as an adult than what mulder would like to believe. sucker punch count for the mulder-sam interaction: 7

"if scully dies, i will kill you," he tells the smoking man, and he's not lying. not at all. sucker punch count: 8

side thought but the makeup team did a really good job of making scully actually look terminally ill for the first time all arc

and i love that scully actually gets to be scared! this is such a terrifying thing to happen to her but she's put on such a brave face this whole time so that she can stay with both her job and with mulder without causing either of them too much pain. but she can't deny it anymore: she's dying. and she will beg, scream, pray, put anything in her neck if it means she gets to stay

okay. The Scene. oooooooohh boy. if you've seen my gifsets before you know that i've already seen the scene where mulder sobs at scully's bedside in the middle of the night, but i've only ever vaguely had the context that he's planning to play ball with the smoking man. with the full context, the scene completely changes meaning. it's not "please don't leave me," it's "i've lost you either way and there is nothing i can do." she'll either die or hate him for taking the deal. but at least her anger means she's alive. sucker punch count: 9

kim manners: "i want you to go to scully's bedside and act like the world is ending and it's your fault." dd: "okay bet"

i started writing a different point here but it JUST hit me that the reason mulder is so quick to trust skinner despite scully's suspicions is because he has information that she doesn't. he knows about zero sum. he knows what skinner did to try to save her, and i bet he never told her. he knows that skinner wouldn't betray them because of everything he's sacrificed to help her, and she has no fucking idea

okay actually the point i was going to make: i think we all forget sometimes that mulder is actually really really good at his job. him sussing out blevins was a complete shot in the dark, and part of it was because of how badly he didn't want to believe the traitor was skinner, but he also had to make some FAST inferences about what blevins wasn't telling him in the scene where he's asked to accuse skinner

the awful awful laugh mulder does on "because i knew you'd talk me out of it if i was making a mistake" is going to haunt me forever. it's WAY too real. this might be dd's best performance yet, but this specific line delivery is horrifyingly honest. it's fucking devastating. he loves her so much. sucker punch count: 11, because i missed a sucker punch in the maggie-scully scene. i know i'm mostly focusing on mulder here but that's just because gillian anderson has been giving this level of performance in pretty much every episode since paper hearts and i've already talked about it ad nauseam

really great redirect with the first elder talking about their colleague solving the fbi problem. you think he means the smoking man recruiting mulder, but he ACTUALLY means the assassin killing the smoking man. because the smoking man is getting sloppy. because his weird fucked-up version of love for mulder and scully is becoming a liability

i know a lot of people are annoyed that we don't actually see scully telling mulder that she's in remission, but i actually don't mind it. it's such a personal moment that i feel like inviting the audience in would almost be voyeuristic. it belongs to mulder and scully alone. besides, it lets us imagine the possibilities to our hearts' content in fic- i've seen mulder almost passing out when she tells him, i've seen mulder kissing her, i've seen the doctor telling them both at the same time, i've seen (my personal favorite) scully so overwhelmed with everything that's happened that she bursts into tears when telling him and mulder assumes the worst... there are endless ways it could've gone, and we get to explore all of them

ending with mulder crying alone outside of scully's hospital room as her (his) family and skinner all celebrate inside is an insane choice. this is the best news he could have ever heard, but it's not a victory in the way it should be. he finally has to face up to what she means to him- remember, when kritschgau asked what his greatest wish was, the answer should have been to see sam and it wasn't- and it scares the hell out of him. and there's no guarantee something like this won't happen to her again. they have no idea what that chip will do. he doesn't know how long he can keep saving her. he thinks he's found his sister, but with the smoking man "dead," his only link to her is gone. the smoking man is dead and he didn't get to kill him. what does that mean for him? for scully? he knows how to love her. that's all he knows. but does he know how to live? sucker punch count: 12

i did in fact send a no-spoilers liveblog of this to flatmate (we just finished dod kalm together so he doesn't even know the cancer arc exists) and feel compelled to share this tidbit as my closer: "savid duchosbny when i catch you..."

david duchovny you are NOT seeing heaven

[peculiar-pandora]

{ tag dump }