#‘AND FAIL THE WORLD??? ABSOLUTELY NOT!!! LETS GO TELL EVERYONE RIGHT NOW! THEY MUST BE PREPARED!!

[o-sunny-day]

ISNT IT BEAUTIFUL SANS!?!?!? EVERYTHING WE DO, EVERYTHING WE ARE!! ITS ALL A MACHINE- THERES A PLACE BEYOND THE SURFACE!! WE CAN REACH IT SANS, WE CAN FREE THE UNDERGROUND… WE CAN FREE THE WORLD!!!!!!!!

*what?

I JUST HAD THIS THOUGHT AND IM TERRIFIED

Sans knows about the whole game and timeline thing, and uh Wingdings clearly did too. Thats what causes him to go a little silly mode. I mean yeah ofc we don’t know what his IMMEDIATE reaction was, but at some point Wingdings decides to look for YOU, decides to give YOU a vessel into Deltarune, decides he need to bring THE ANGELS LIGHT to the rest of the underground, HE BECOMES VERY FASCINATED AND GENERALLY POSITIVE TWORDS THIS

And what we know from SANS is its the complete opposite- ignore, go about his business, try to make a life for himself despite this knowledge, all of that

And I thought UHHH HOW/WHEN DOES SANS FIND THAT OUT?

So anywho angst time that im turning funny for coping purposes

Thinkin about a potential scene of Wingdings’ mid going-crazy arc, and hes like SANS IVE GOT TO SHOW YOU SOMETHING SO AMAZING ITS GONNA BLOW YOUR MIND-

And then he reacts understandably….not very wellll!

And to that, Wingdings also doesnt react very well!

im gonna go crazy- THEY REACT COMPLETELY OPPOSITE TO THIS INFORMATION AND I FEEL LIKE THE REASON IS REALLY COOL

Sans has so many things in his life he cares about past SCIENCE and FREEING THE UNDERGROUND

…WINGDINGS THOUGH- UHHHH

Basically what i’m saying is IT MAKES SENSE. BUT ITS STILL SAD

and I cant wait to see how Sans finds out, and I cant wait to see these brothers get torn apart and put back together again forcefully

[llamagoddessofficial]

Le gasp..

Mafia Bad Sanses’ HCs

Mafia Bad Sanses’ HCs?

Horror likes bashing in heads. He likes that his job means he gets paid to bash in a lot of heads. He doesn't really care that he's considered one of Nightmare's top enforcers, that even the hardest criminals tremble in fear at the mention of his name, that he's called things like the beast and the monster... he just likes that he gets to take out all his worst frustrations on whichever face Nightmare points him to. As a nice bonus, the money he makes means his brother and surviving friends live in safety and comfort.

... But he also likes pretty things. Pretty, soft things, that make him feel fuzzy and warm. You're all three. You find out pretty quick that his frightening face hides a softspoken, sensitive creature, who keeps appearing at your door with flowers (when did you give him your address?) and homemade food. It's bizarre, how such a violent man can equally be so gentle, getting flustered just from you looking at him too long. He wants to do to you what he does with everyone he cares about - use his money to make it so that you never have to worry about anything in life again.

Probably for the best that you let him. He famously doesn't have great control over his temper.

Dust doesn't appear too happy about working for Nightmare. It's clear to anyone watching that Nightmare has something over him; whatever it is, it must be pretty bad, because Dust never questions Nightmare's orders - no matter how terrible or violent. He does exactly what's asked of him, no more, no less. And it's obvious why Nightmare might want to force someone like Dust to work for him... there's no job this silent demon can't do.

Dust, with you, is a different man. He almost becomes his old self again. When you're alone together, he actually smiles. He desperately wants to keep you away from the world he's become trapped in, and he'll probably spend the first few weeks of knowing you trying as hard as he can to separate you from him and the other skeletons. But... he's in love. He can't help it. He's always drawn back to you again, no matter how many times he tells himself he has to let go.

You're his escape. You make him forget the things he's done, and the things he has to keep doing. He's addicted to that feeling.

Killer is Nightmare's right hand. The moniker 'Nightmare's dog' is often used, mostly in an attempt to offend him, but it just makes him laugh. Much like Horror, he very much enjoys his job... he enjoys the power, indulging in his violent desires and getting paid for it. Killer is just about the closest thing Nightmare has to someone he trusts; Killer is privy to many of their 'family's deepest secrets, partly because of his position, but also partly because Nightmare knows Killer genuinely has absolutely zero interest in these massively important secrets. Killer just wants to stab things.

For some reason he seems intent that you trust him. It's really hard to tell what he wants, behind that smile... you're cautious with him, given his clear loyalty to Nightmare. But maybe that loyalty isn't as unshakeable as it seems. It starts with little things... casually lying through his teeth and fully taking the blame for something you did. Conveniently 'forgetting' to mention you around Nightmare. Failing a mission you expressed horror at. Lying about the nature of your personal information, pretending (in front of the guys) that he doesn't know stuff he very much knows.

It's impossible to tell what he wants. But it seems like, whatever it is, he wants it more than all the power he's got now.

Nightmare will obviously want to learn the identity of the person who's somehow managed to completely disarm his three most valuable and violent soldiers. Despite all of them doing their damnedest to keep you out of Nightmare's crosshairs, you can't be hidden forever.

Nightmare is supposed to have everything - there's no luxury he can't afford. But he's always had this... void inside him. It's the very void that pushes him to keep expanding his territory, to keep killing and taking, maybe if he has just that little bit more he'll feel complete. Maybe if he just has that one last shiny thing, he'll be happy. But it's never been enough.

Then he finally meets you. And something clicks.

Dust, Killer and Horror tried so hard to keep you away from Nightmare, because they were terrified of what would happen to you if Nightmare decided he didn't like you. Instead, something much, much worse happened.

Nightmare likes you.

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with his Preggo Wife #9: At the Beach

Can be read with others in series or alone

Summary: You're not too confident at the beach with your body, but Joel's got the best remedy

Warnings: Super fluff!! Some sexy time at the end, unprotected sex, car sex, failed sex, fingering, 1 spank, heavier descriptions of pregnant body 

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You complain how hot it is, the grainy sand stuck on on your thighs, the hot sun blistering your sensitive skin, the onlookers you fear are gawking at your enormous size. The fact you have to wear a bikini now despite always having worn a full piece before the baby train docked. But it just wouldn't fit, and you had to buy a NEW (and even larger sized) two piece to accommodate your must larger figure.

 All of it makes you want to barf and hide in a closet. At the very least wrapped up in a towel—but of course, one towel doesn't even cover over your mid section anymore either!

Not that he's complaining. Joel pulls his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose to let all the light in and, with no shame, gets a glorious look at you as often as he can. You wearing a two piece with your accentuated body now so drastically changed because of him, just absolutely showcasing the evidence of your love making has him struggling to keep his cock down in his trousers. He wants to put his hands all over you and tell everyone yeah, this body? this belly? This woman? You see her? Mine. 

You didn't want to come to the beach. Okay, you did, like, yesterday, when you were scratching his arm off and begging to go sun bathe and wear your new sandals, but clearly, Joel couldn't recognize when you changed your mind last minute in the car ride without actually verbally telling him. He was so busy humming his little 70s tunes on the radio, glancing smiles at you and putting his warm hand on your fat thigh. Completely unaware, despite your reassuring smiles, that you wanted him to turn around right now and go home. Why couldn't the man just read your mind? Why do you have to explain everything to him word for word?

So here you are, a million degrees under the baking sun, sand in your sandals with the whole world of beautiful people apparently on this beach too. You stand there awkwardly, rubbing your arms hoping to shrink down to an ant and scurry away.

Trying to get to your knees is difficult at best, uncomfortable and pathetic, before settling on your bum with that massive tummy in the way of everything. You spread your legs and, fuck, you look like you might as well be pushing this baby out right now in this bloated birthing position. Could they kick you off the beach for looking like this???

Joel doesn’t pay any attention at all. He gets right to being a boy and digging a big hole in the sand like a 14 year old, despite his cracking knees and shifting groans from all the movement he’s got to do.

At least someone here is having a good time.

He carefully scoops the sand with his thick palm, making a smooth, rounded cavern. He even brought a tape measure, which he uses around your tummy first, strangely, and you don't even question it.

Once the hemisphere is dug to his satisfaction, smoothed over with his calloused fingers, he sits back and waves to you. 

You're picking little grains of sand off your moon-sized belly.

He coughs again, and you finally look up.

"Ta da!" He boasts proudly.

You throw your hands up defeatedly at his extremely unimpressive hole. "Okay?"

His lips draw tightly to a thin line, doubt crossing his face. “Wait, just—c’mere. Best part."

He grabs your hands and helps you to lie forward so that your belly has room to dip into the hole. And just like that, for the first time in months, you're lying on your front again.

It’s as if a massive ache in your back is suddenly relieved. "Oh my god! This feels amazing!" You cheer. The pressure your baby had been putting on your lower spine suddenly disappears, and all that weight is so perfectly supported by the carefully measured cradle he dug in the sand. It's been so long since you were in this position, you had dreams of the day you could again.

"Joel, you're—“

"Fuckin' amazin', I know darlin'."

He plants a special cooling pillow in front of you so you can rest your chin above the sand, no strain on your neck.

You sigh loudly, and extremely long, not even aware that it sounds like a pornographic moan.

"Behave, you," he tsks with a raised brow, his whispers tickling your ear.

"Mmmm.”

You wave him off, suddenly enjoying the warm heat of the sun on your bare back.

He lathers your exposed skin with gentle sun screen, massaging your shoulders, neck, sides. He takes special care to realllly rub your butt, 'so you don't burn.' Puts an umbrella over you too for good measure. With the reassuring feeling of Joels hands working out your muscles all over you, the crashing sound of waves in the distance and chirping seagulls, and feeling like you aren’t heavily pregnant for the first time in months, you quickly succumb to a nap.

-

Later when he's got food, double fisting some hot dogs, he sits you up and rubs the sand off your belly with a clean cloth. Joel scarfs the first one down, ketchup drooping down his wrist.

But you’re too distracted, and when you tell him its okay, he eats yours without a second thought. You laugh a little. Poor thing probably got baked under the sun too busy taking care of you.

He chews loudly, jaw working close with the amount of meat and mustard and bread bulging out. You lick your thumb and wipe away the droop of condiment spilling from his lips.

He playfully chases your hand with a bite, growling.

you shake your head. “You fucking weirdo.”

“Mmm. My pretty fuckin’ girl.”

His eyes rake over your body���skin radiant in the sun, so smooth and shiny from the oily sunscreen he had smoothed over you. Like something out of a dream. His dreams, to be exact. Not so appropriate dreams he may have already had after only the first week of dating you, and thinking about the day you might be exactly as you are—pregnant with a his ring on your finger.

Delirious with the sight of you, he leans in and starts kissing you, then groping and suckling alll down to your bloated belly.

"Joel, stop, people are gonna see!"

"Let them see, you're so fucking sexy right now.”

"STOP.” You grasp him a bit more firmly to pull his hungry mouth away from going any further down south. “We're not having sex right now. That's final. Now keep your bad boy parts in your pants.”

He pouts and grumbles, drawing away like a scolded child.

You watch as a group of kids play in the water and laugh, or two young girls collect more sea shells than their little hands can carry. Your hand absent-minded rubs over your belly, wondering what your baby is thinking right this moment. If she had thoughts. If she was listening and seeing through you, and feeling what you might be feeling right now.

Joel watches you. He can see that sense of distant longing in your eyes. 

Remembers when you first started dating, mid 20s and so young, and the first thing you said was you weren't sure about kids. He kind of knew he wanted at least one, but the more he got to know you, the more he was willing to give that idea up if it meant he got to keep you for the rest of his life. It took five years after you got married before he found you trembling but bravely presenting him a positive test, and he had to fight himself to keep all his emotions at bay in case you didn’t want this. You were so quiet, so unreadable. He wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk about it or not. 

Until you both went to your first ultrasound, and from that minute you saw the little blob on the screen, and the nurse said “meet mom and dad!” Your lives changed. The whole car ride home you were babbling excitedly about baby names, the color of the nursery, what your child might look like (you hoped she or he would look like Joel). 

You’re quiet right now like you were that day. He follows your eyes to the scene of all the kids playing together, their parents watching over and encouraging the sandcastle building or warning not to go too far out into the water: a happy family.

"I want more,” you say quietly, not really even addressing Joel as your eyes are stuck forward.

He just chuckles and shakes his head. “Baby, we still are working on getting one. Gotta wait before we can have another."

"I want her to have a sibling,” you mumble, holding your belly with both hands delicately.

He bends down and kisses your hand resting atop your swell. “I’ll give you as many as you want.... so long as it doesn't exceed two.”

Your head snaps back. “Three.”

"If there's 2, then that's 4 of us, which is the perfect number to sit at any restaurant. 4 is right. Plus a normal car sits 4 people comfortably. Do you really want a third baby being subjected to a middle seat?"

"Mini van?"

"We ain't getting a mini van. Over my dead body.”

"Well we can't use the truck!”

"Ya can put a baby seat in the truck."

You giggle at the imagery. "You've thought about this a lot haven't you, Mr. Miller?”

He's going off about why 4 also is the perfect number in most rollercoaster carts, but you can't help but just look at him, smiling warmly to yourself that you get to call this man yours.

“—I love you."

He stops mid sentence. A little jumped, but never surprised by your words. He caresses your cheek lovingly, his soft lips finding yours. "I love you too," he mumbles just hushed enough for only you to hear.

Your foreheads touch, as if you wanted your minds to meld into one. You kiss him again, then again a little more firmly. And more. Again, more—more, again. Until you're making out with him a little too passionately, your hand drifting south to his caress his Daddy belly and his Daddy parts—

He hand grabs your wrist to stop you. “Honey,” he warns. There’s a glint in his eye that is just barely keeping his mature brain functioning. With your tits all swollen and hefty with milk, spilling out of that poor excuse of a bra and begging for attention, along with your ass spilling out of that g-string-looking triangle hiding your more than likely wet flower... He’s unsure if he can't keep his erection at bay if you keep acting like this while looking like this.

"I want you," you breathe, your lips crashing on his.

"I want you too,” he hums between your insatiable teeth biting along his tongue. “But..."

"But?"

"You said no sex at the beach."

"I know. I'm waiting for you to get off your lazy ass and take me in the truck."

-

Joel had never packed shit up quicker in his life. He’s bunched up bottles and towels and sunglasses and whatever junk he had brought all up in a towel with one arm and ran barefoot to the parking lot, his other hand dragging you as you wiggled excitedly behind him. He throws it all in the truckbed and unlatches the door for you, helping you up with a quick smack to your sandy asscheek. He gets in and rolls up the windows. Not bothering to check if anyone is around. 

You pull him close and start shoving his shorts down.

Its hot and rushed and promising—until you quickly realize your baby does not want any truck-fucking business happening because there's no possible configuration the two of you can get in to have sex with the sheer size of your tummy in the way.

He can sense the tears of frustration welling in your eyes, immediately caressing you as he buckles you in and revs the truck to life. 

“It’s okay, its okay, it's okay, we'll have car sex again after she's born, how's that? Just a beautiful girl you are. Too sexy like this. Need to do it on a comfortable bed, that’s all. Can't have ya all to myself whenever I want, huh?"

You nod, desperate to suck up all your tears. Quite frankly you know that you ugly cry, and Joel knows you ugly cry, and you don’t want to ugly cry. You remember that your pussy is wet and waiting to get home so he can spoil you properly.

He continues to adoring rub over your belly, a constant affection of his touch reminding you to stay level. With one hand gripping the wheel, eyes trained forward, he glides down over your naval and urges you to part your legs.

You slip back a bit, giving him the widened access he needs to dip his middle under your bikini bottoms and between your slick folds. You moan loudly, hips arching forward to get more of his finger rubbing along your swollen clit.

“Joooeeeeeel,” you whimper impatiently. He can’t dip any more than an inch of his finger in you due to the stretch of his arm over you belly. Instead, he swipes along your slit, gathering your wetness and smearing it on your nub.

"Ahhh, oh sweetheart, you’re just drippin' me." He retracts his hand and plunges his finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue over and over and sucking your juices clean off with a pop.

You eye his bulge stabbing through his trousers. "I wish I could suck you off right now." You whine, squeezing your achy breasts and hoping he can steal a glance at you.

"Mmm, those were good times, huh?"

You groan, frustrated. Turns out the baby was cock blocking you in numerous ways from doing things you enjoyed in your youth. Your “youth” feeling like it just a few months ago when driving BJs were your favorite way of nearly getting pulled over.

Eventually you do get home, and you throw the seatbelt over. This baby was NOT stealing truck-fucking from you. Not. Today. 

Joel can’t stop your rush. You’re clambering over the dash, knee pressing into Joel’s bulge painfully and elbowing his chest trying to get into a position.

"Okay wait—just—OW! Hon—s-urgghh— HOLD ON.”

You maneuver him to sit at the center of the back seat, with your back facing him and ass hovering over his cock. He’s protectively holding your waist in your squatting position. You sit back slowly, moaning as he penetrates your slit. With both hands on either side of the front seats shoulders in front of you, you begin gently rocking and bouncing.

He holds your belly, guiding you up and down, back and forth on his dick

"Fuck. Fuck, I love you, Joel. I cant wait—nnmmm—to have your baby!"

He grumbles in agreement, watching the space where his length disppears into your sopping cunt and comes back wet and shiny from your arousal.

It feels fantastic after waiting so long, being so pent up and needy for each other since—like 20 minutes ago.

And There's about 18 more seconds of this before you're slowing down. Joel can feel it too: the awkward clench, slipping out of you every few seconds, creaking in the truck's seat, the wet scratchiness of the sand still wedged there, your hand on your back from the pain, unable to bounce on him with the weight of you, the overall struggle that’s paving way for very shitty, very uncomfortable, very unsatisfying sex. You stop altogether and sit in his lap with his cock impaling you, almost casually.

"I'm tired,” you sigh in defeat, out of breath.

Joel just nods behind you. He kisses your shoulder blade and helps you off him.

Baby: 1.

You: 0

“Bed is still open, if ya want it…” you mumble into his whiskered cheek before planting a soft kiss.

His excitement jolts him into a frenzied leap out of the truck. “Bathroom, then bed, and I expect to see your legs spread and naked.”

You giggle and the two of you part in different directions in the house.

Joel quickly uses the bathroom before tripping over his clothes while stripping, eager to finally make you cry about how good he’s going to pleasure you.

Only to find you nestled on the couch curled up with your hand perched under your cheek, drooling into the pillow. Even despite your sunkissed skin, the dryness of your lips from the salty ocean air, the sand you complained between your folds and wedged up your ass by your bikini didn't matter. As the afternoon warm sun bleeds from the drapes lulled you to a gentle rest, secure and safe in your own home. 

Joel kneeled beside you, cupping your cheek soothingly.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

You stir slightly, smiling with a hazy half conscious state. "I know," you respond cheekily, before nuzzling into his hand again and falling back asleep.

Joel stays there for hours, one hand resting over your belly, just watching the woman he's fallen so hard for, wondering what in the world he's done to deserve such a blessing.

- - - -

Permanent Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee

[bwat5-blog]

Continuing The Cycle

**Spoilers For Arcane**

Let me say to begin with, that nothing in this post is to downplay or brush off Piltover's oppression of Zaun. There will be some who read that and still scream at me, that's okay. I just want to be clear.

Many people on here more insightful and intelligent than I have spoken on this already, but it has been sticking with me lately so I wanted to get my thoughts out.

I have been quite free with dismantling some of the inane attempts at criticism of Arcane in this space. But, I promise I do actually understand everyone is entitled to their opinion. After all, how we connect with and understand art on an individual level is one of the things that make it so special. I have never, and will never come for someone who is simply stating their honest opinion based on the actual content in a respectful manner.

Where my issues come in, have to do with these wide-spread critiques/takes/stances that so directly undermine the meaning of the narrative they are best ignorant and at worst malicious. And more often than not rely on omission of details that negates their stance, or fabrication of details to support them. To that end, what I am discussing today is the black and white thinking that has permeated the fandom, poisoning understanding and appreciation of all corners of that narrative.

LET'S JUST GET IT OUT OF THE WAY:

*Before we get into the Arcane content, we need to discuss where a lot of this is coming from. I am just gonna get this out here right now, and there are some people who are gonna keel over reading it but if you are one of those folks I might as well not waste your time*

Arcane is not the Israeli–Palestinian conflict.

It could not be more clear that this is where a lot of this is coming from. Let me be explicitly clear, this is NOT a deep-dive or analysis of this conflict. This thing is immensely complicated . If you comment here with a "IT IS NOT COMPLICATED ITS" sort of comment I'm sorry to tell you but you are wrong. The modern phase of this has origins as far back as the late nineteenth century and there is more going back even further. I don't care if its a straight fucking line. Something going back that far has more to it than the average nerd like me is qualified to speak on. Now, that being said, I do understand to a degree why this is happening. Not like this conflict has ever really been settled but in the last few years especially things have really been active and generating a degree of media content I don't remember seeing this level of in my short 32 years. So in a world where everyone (myself included) is so plugged in and enveloped by social media, a lot of us are getting a more direct look at this than we really ever have. And we analyze and connect with art through the lens of the world around us to a point. But we CANNOT do so exclusively. Trying to force a narrative into a one-to-one comparison robs it of a tremendous amount of meaning. Because no matter how complex and intricate this story actually can be. IT IS NOT REALITY. I'm not getting into it here, that would be pages and pages of writing and I'm here to talk about Arcane. But I'm going to say this because it applies to real life and the show both and will take us into my actual point today.

The idea that anyone on one side must always be good and justified simply because they are the oppressed, while the other must always be evil, is juvenile, naïve, and fails to grasp even a fraction of the complexity of human nature

Some of you are going to have an absolute seizure reading me say that that statement applies to real life as well. I don't care. It takes time, maturity, and meeting people from all walks of life to understand things are not so simple.

BACK TO ARCANE:

But, that being said time to get back to business. How does this all apply to Arcane?

"The show should have ended with a civil war between Zaun and Piltover!"

"When Zaun arrived during the last battle Jinx should have unloaded on the Enforcers and the Noxians both!"

"They ruined Jinx's character! WTF do you mean she apologized for killing Caitlyn's mother? Her mom was part of the oppressive system that ruined Jinx's life and brought it on herself!"

"Silco did bad things but it was all to gain power to protect Zaun!"

"Poor little rich girl lost her mom and acts like it's a reason to punish an entire city with warcrimes. The people of Zaun have been suffering worse for their entire history"

"Rebel Vi I miss you! How dare they make you care about people in Piltover!"

"The coward show runners made Zaunites into boot-lickers fighting for Piltover wearing Enforcer armor at the end!"

You get the idea. I have seen variations of these and many more time and time again. Zaun should have let Piltover fall or even attacked themselves. Caitlyn deserved everything done to her because she's of the Piltovan elite. Every terrible thing Jinx or Silco did was totally and completely justified because of Piltovan oppression.

Now there are many angles I could come at this from. My usual one is simply addressing the astounding lack of logic in most of these sorts of arguments. For example, I can rope all of the people saying Zaun should have let Piltover fall into one category. People who forgot about this guy:

Like he was just gonna "evolve" Piltover than call it a day and zoot off into space with his new buddies. Obviously not and the idea that he wouldn't immediately take Zaun as well then keep moving is completely laughable. But this sort of thing isn't my issue today. My issue is that those so zealously insisting the the show should have continued on a path of hate, death and destruction are completely missing the point.

I titled this continuing the cycle for a reason. So much of this show, revolves around this concept of the cycle of violence. Those who keep it going, those who suffer from it, and those who break it. And the issue I'm finding is that a tremendous amount of people have seemingly decided that anything people from Zaun do is justified, and anything people from Piltover do is not. When in fact, where they are born is irrelevant in this context. Because each and everyone of them has the choice to further the cycle, or to walk away.

Silco & Vander:

Vander continued the cycle when instead of forgiving Silco for his part (whatever it may have been, we never really get the whole story) in Felicia's death he tried to kill him. And Silco did the same when he took his revenge instead of walking away ending not only the life of the man who wronged him, but causing the deaths of two teenage boys, trying to have Vi killed and causing her imprisonment altering her life forever, and taking Powder as his own after obliterating her second family altering her life and the lives of all those she would hurt through her actions as well.

Caitlyn:

In Caitlyn we see all three. She was an admittedly naïve but well-meaning young woman who was victimized terribly by cycle of violence around all for thinking she could help. We then watch her heart-breaking transformation into being a part of it allowing her hate and pain to warp her into someone dark and vengeful. Then finally we see her laying down the hate for her mothers killer in favor of her love for the woman who means everything to her. Stepping outside of it and turning her back on that violence.

There are of course other examples. Jinx walking away, Ambessa choosing to continue the bloodshed even with her last child begging her to stop. the list goes on. My point in discussing this is that it doesn't matter where they come from. Characters from all over this story play a part both good and bad in the events that occur. And to properly appreciate and understand this tale and what it is saying we MUST recognize that.

Yes Silco was a Zaunite. No Silco was not justified in unleashing Shimmer on his own people. He was a revolutionary once, but he lost his way. In the end he died a violent drug lord who exploited his people for his own gain. He was not a hero.

Yes Jinx is a Zaunite. No, Jinx attacking the council was not a noble strike for her people against oppression. She was a terrified, mentally ill, grieving and angry young woman who lashed out in a moment of awful pain. And in doing guaranteed Piltovan oppression against her people. .

Yes, Heimerdinger was the father of Piltover and his neglect caused terrible problems for everyone. He also gave his life for a Zaunite rebel commander to help get him home. (I understand in the lore he's probably alive but we haven't seen that yet and they have for sure diverged so it isn't a guarantee)

Yes, Caitlyn Kiramman is the daughter of one of the high houses of Piltover, and played a part of the people of Zaun suffering under Ambessa's manipulations and cruelty. She also gave the leader of the Firelights the gemstone she was so determined to return, stood side-by-side with Vi and told the council to their faces they failed Zaun, and put her own body on the line to make things right against Ambessa.

And that isn't to say that any of those characters were all good or all bad. It's to say that they all are capable of both. Just like every character. To slap a Zaun sticker on Silco and a Piltover (or cop as so many of you are fond of) sticker on Caitlyn and give them a pass or not for everything they do based on that is simplistic and ignorant. These characters have so much to them that to reduce them to these easily digestible bite-sized pieces is to deprive yourself of that true weight of this story.

All that said, lets take another look at a few items from that list from earlier:

"The show should have ended with a civil war between Zaun and Piltover!"// At the moment where all of humanity was at stake, people came together and fought side by side to quite literally save the world

"They ruined Jinx's character! WTF do you mean she apologized for killing Caitlyn's mother? Her mom was part of the oppressive system that ruined Jinx's life and brought it on herself!"// In a moment of pain and clarity Jinx found herself speaking to someone she realized she horribly wronged. Someone who had been twisted into something dark and violent by pain and grief, a feeling Jinx knew all too well. So she said the most she could, it isn't a direct apology. But her remorse is clear. "

"When Zaun arrived during the last battle Jinx should have unloaded on the Enforcers and the Noxians both!"// Jinx went from someone hated and feared, who felt like she had nothing to offer anyone, who felt like she had failed or killed everyone who loved her, to riding into battle leading her people and bearing symbols of her loved ones into the war for all mankind. And although I and most agree she's alive, the last act we know she for sure that she took was to save the life of the older sister who loved her so much in her most dire moment. If she did die, Jinx died a hero.

CLOSING WORDS:

Arcane is many things. But it's humanity is its heart. I've said it many times and many ways, but good stories... in this case great stories matter. They stick with us. Because long after the giant battles, the wolf monsters, and shiny blue magic rocks have faded, its the humanity you remember. The sisters fighting desperately to hold on to each-other in a world determined to rip them apart. The lovers from different worlds finding hope in each-others arms. Brothers betraying one another, a daughter having to take her mothers life, the list goes on. But when we rob these characters and this story of all of that, when the flash is gone, what's left?

I haven't done a long one in a bit and I feel like this is a bit rambling so I apologize. To those who take time out of their day to read anything I have to say I appreciate you more than you know. Feel free to share your thoughts! I love discussing this show. And in closing will leave you with one of my favorite quotes.

“It's like the great stories, Mr. Frodo, the ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were, and sometimes you didn't want to know the end because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad has happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing this shadow, even darkness must pass. A new day will come, and when the sun shines, it'll shine out the clearer. I know now folks in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going because they were holding on to something. That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for"

- JRR Tolkien

[eff4freddie]

After She Left | Nine

Words: 5k

Joel leaves Shauna to race to the mess hall, trying to prevent an attack that will obliterate half of Jackson. You keep Ellie safe while Joel is out for blood. Tommy has his suspicions.

Chapter warnings: Angst, again. Slow burn. Joel continues to be bad at feelings.

A/N: Thank you again for your support of this series. It's putting the slow in slow burn, but these two idiots just refuse to give any ground. Joel is starting to soften, slowly, but will Teach let him in?

Eight | Series Masterlist | Ten

Joel’s legs were moving almost completely without volition. He didn’t even hesitate, taking off towards the mess hall screaming, bellowing, over his shoulder for Shauna to run to Tommy and tell him. There wasn’t any time, there wasn’t any knowing how much time there was, but there were families in that mess hall, there were some of the town’s best men and women and their children and he was going to make damn fuckin’ sure not you. Not Ellie. Not you.

He could feel his breath coming in hard and sharp, the comparatively warm night air doing absolutely nothing to stop his lungs feeling as though they were shredding right there in his chest. He was stumbling, must have looked completely mad, as he ran to the centre of town. Shauna had said the gas line ran over the street. In rebuilding Jackson with next to no equipment they wouldn’t have been able to pull up the concrete to bury it, not with the little tools they’d had. It would have made sense to install all the services above ground without a digger to get them under, but now they were just exposed. Jackson had been built on a fuckin’ fuse and he’d stood at the gates while the guys with the match marched right past him.

Jesus, he’d failed. Again, he had failed. If that mess hall went up before he got there he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to live with himself, knew in his heart he would have to take himself off to a mountain somewhere and let the elements have their way with him. Walk into a horde of clickers. It would be fair and it would be just in this lawless, gnashing world.

Breath coming in too fast to catch it, pulse too hard to hear anything else he rounded onto the main street, bellowing at the top of his lungs to clear the area, waving with his hands over his head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tommy running from the other direction, his eyes wild, raising his own hands over his head and bellowing a warning when he saw what Joel was doing. A few other men appeared on Joel’s periphery, confused but on alert regardless, and he screamed to them as he ran past ‘MESS HALL. GONNA GO UP. GET ‘EM OUT. GET ‘EM ALL OUT.’

He was dimly aware of people staring at him, gaping at him as he streamed past. He yelled in their faces to get clear, having to restrain himself from physically pushing them out of the way as he wrenched open the door to the mess hall just as Tommy appeared at the bottom of the steps.

It was all just pure instinct. He’d never been a fire warden, had done safety training for the job sites more than twenty years ago. Didn’t need instructions or a manual, just stood in the doorway as the hall fell silent around him, cupped his hands over his mouth and screamed ‘OUT OUT OUT’.

Tommy pulled him aside, gesturing people to the door now that Joel wasn’t obstructing it anymore, and later when Joel had the wherewithal he’d curse himself for being so stupid as to block the only exit he was screaming at people to use.

The place emptied in minutes. Town Council had a thing about practicing drills: clickers, raiders, fires and floods. Being the only safe haven at the end of the world a fair amount of effort went into preparing for disaster, and everyone was assembled at the muster point by the gate within minutes. Maria was busy doing her headcount.

Out the front of the mess hall Tommy held Joel by his trembling shoulder as he relayed to his younger brother everything that Shauna had said. Tommy sent a bunch of men under the floor to check the foundations, ran his own eye up the gas line because he didn’t trust any of the men, got Joel to do it too when he was done shaking. Whatever Steve and Wren had been planning they hadn’t pulled it off yet. There was still time. Joel felt himself exhale for the first time in an hour.

Over Tommy’s shoulder he saw the townsfolk of Jackson lined up along the street at a safe distance. Moms holding their babies to their chests, husbands with their arms over their wives’ shoulders. He saw you in the crowd, your hand held fast in Ellie’s, and he felt something settle in his chest as his girls watched him work. His girls.

Not his girls.

But in that first moment, before his legs had taken him in the direction of the mess hall, he’d fought a traitorous urge to turn around, head back to your place, pack you and Ellie up in blankets and hunker down with you in your bedroom, let the whole fuckin’ place burn to the ground around him so long as he had you both safe.

He blinked. There was fury bubbling in his belly, he could feel the fire rising up his sternum as he tried to swallow it down.

‘Where they at, Tommy?’ he grunted, his brother having already been anticipating that this would be Joel’s next move, once he was confident the town was safe.

‘Sent Guillaume and a few of the boys to round ‘em up,’ Tommy said, hoping this would be enough for Joel and knowing it wouldn’t be.

‘Gollum?’ Joel said, almost spitting the name in disdain. ‘That fuckhead’s the reason we in this mess. I bet you my life they were the ones skulkin’ around out there that time I saw the tracks, I bet you anythin’ they been planning this for months and I fuckin’ told Golllum…’

‘Ok, easy, easy,’ Tommy said, raising his hands, watching the heat blooming on his brother’s neck. ‘I know, Joel, but we got a proper process.’

Joel scoffed, rolling his eyes, clenching his fists. He was spitting acid now, the left-over adrenaline mixing with bile and misery. ‘We’re a civilisation, Joel,’ Tommy said, almost pleading with him to see some kind of reason. ‘That means we gotta be civil.’

‘I’ll be real civil with ‘em, brother,’ Joel said, his voice low and heavy and full of venom. ‘F’they behave themselves I might even make it quick.’

‘Joel, enough,’ Tommy said. ‘This ain’t…this is for Town Council-’

‘The HELL IT IS’ Joel bellowed, the people still milling around on the street flinching and glancing back at him. He cleared his throat and lowered his gaze.

‘You can’t cut me outta this, Tommy,’ he said, his turn to plead. ‘S’my family they messin’ with.’

‘All our families they messed with, Joel,’ Tommy said.

‘What you think they been doin’ to Shauna all this time?’ Joel said, and Tommy blanched a little. There wasn’t any evidence, Shauna had always implied more or less that she’d agreed to whatever it was they got up to on the side of cold mountains, but Joel knew how to push Tommy’s buttons, having spent the better half of his little brother’s youth installing them himself.

There was a shout over the hill leading down to the stables, a cry and a string of insults that, even though neither Tommy or Joel could make out the words, were nevertheless unkind.

Tommy pulled on Joel’s arm to try and hold him back, but Joel was already streaming over to the sound, his longer legs striding strong despite his older years, his eyes narrowing. Tommy knew this look. It was the look Joel got when he was ready to do anything to defend what was his. He stumbled after his brother, motioning for Maria in the hope that her cooler head might prevail.

Joel could see Wren being held between two of Guillaume’s men, his shoulder bent at what appeared to be a truly uncomfortable angle.

‘They’ve dislocated my shoulder!’ Wren screamed, looking a little green, Joel thought.

‘That’s the last of your worries,’ Tommy said, catching up to Joel and a little out of breath. ‘Wanna tell us about the mess hall?’

‘What about the mess hall?’ Wren asked, and Joel was ready, in that moment, to rip his dislocated shoulder clean from the rest of his body.

‘You fuckin’ sick piece of shit, going to blow it all up with all those kids in there, all those women. People’s fuckin’ families?’ Joel was aware he was spitting, that his face was red, that he was forcing his finger into Wren’s face, but the shock was wearing off now, and pure blind rage was seeping in where it had left, and he couldn’t stop thinking about pulling Ellie’s charred little body out of the wreckage, trying to figure if it was her by her shoes and her proximity to you.

He was going to vomit if he didn’t stop thinking about it. He steeled himself, let the world spin around his head for a moment longer before he pulled it all back into focus by sheer force of will.

‘You and Steve, you sick fucks, been planning this the whole time? When we fed and clothed ya, gave you fuckin’ jobs!’

‘Joel, easy,’ Tommy said, because he could see that Wren was near tears, that the younger man looked dumbfounded, and that dealing with 200 pounds of Miller in the form of a man-sized fist wasn’t going to get them to a resolution.

‘What are you…’ Wren was asking, but then there were more footsteps, and Steve was being dragged along the street to join the party by another of the patrol, and this time Shauna was trailing behind him, eyes wet and hands wringing in front of her. She moved straight to Maria, who wrapped her up in her arms.

‘Just fuckin’ confess to it so we can get down to the punishment,’ Joel was saying, even as Tommy was trying to pull him back so that the Council could form a proper impromptu trial.

‘We didn’t do fuckin’ nothing,’ Steve said, because he was quicker on the uptake it seemed. ‘Whatever she’s said to you it’s fucking bullshit.’

Joel looked at Shauna, who was starting to sob.

‘They said if I said anything they’d kill me,’ she said, eyes on the ground as Maria practically held her up. ‘They said I had to do it, I had to get the plans, I’m so sorry,’ she said.

Wren was shaking his head at her, panic on his features, but Joel was too far gone to notice or care, too interested instead in punching his features through to the other side of his skull.

‘But I couldn’t let them hurt the kids,’ she stuttered, turning her eyes to Joel now, who held her in his gaze. He could feel some of the fury ebbing away at the sight of her so distraught. Could feel a kind of inevitability settling in over his bones, a sadness and an understanding of what had to be done.

‘You fuckin’ lying whore!’ Steve screamed at her, his neck straining from the force of it. Shauna shuddered and took a step back and Joel found himself moving over to her, taking the other side from Maria to help hold her up, as Shauna transferred to his shoulder and buried her face into his neck.

‘You don’t talk about the women of Jackson that way,’ Tommy was saying as Maria nodded her head. Robert, who had been watching the proceedings and taking it all in, pulled Tommy, Maria and a few of the other Councillors aside.

In the silence, Shauna continued to whimper, reaching up to hold firm to the front of Joel’s shirt. He could feel his heartbeat settling, could feel the ache as he breathed over scorched lungs. ‘I’m so scared, Joel,’ Shauna whispered to him, and he rested his chin on the top of her head.

‘I know, I gotcha,’ he said, as he wrapped both arms around her shivering form. He cast a glance at Wren, who was staring at the ground unable to move with his shoulder sustaining what Joel now saw was likely a bad break, and then at Steve, who was watching Shauna with a cold intensity that set Joel’s teeth on edge.

‘Get your fuckin’ eyes off her,’ he hissed, and Steve, instead, raised his eyes to him.

He started to shake his head, slowly. ‘You cunt-struck fool,’ he said to Joel, almost with pity. If he hadn’t been holding Shauna up, Joel would have knocked him out then and there.

Robert cleared his throat, the conference apparently over.

‘For conspiring against the town of Jackson and its citizens, you are banished,’ he said, simply and quickly. Efficient and without fanfare.

‘That’s it?’ Joel said, sputtering. ‘They could still get back in here, the fuckers know the place like the back of their hands. They’ve got plans.’

Shauna whimpered again a little in his arms. No thanks to you, Joel thought, and then felt bad about it.

Robert continued to address the men. ‘Tomorrow morning you will be taken on horseback to a destination two and a half hours ride from here. You will be dropped off with no supplies or weapons. You will not return. Should you attempt to darken our gates again you will be shot on sight. Do you understand?’

‘Just shoot us now, you fuckin’ cowards,’ Steve said, the fight receding from him so that now he was just sort of swaying in the arms of the men. ‘Don’t just let a clicker do it.’

‘The Town Council’s decision is final. You will be placed in remand until the morning. We will ride out at dawn.’

Robert nodded to his councillors and to Joel and strode off. Joel was angry but he had to admire Robert’s composure. He considered, not for the first time, that Robert was exactly the man for the job he held.

Guillaume and his men dragged Steve and Wren away. Wren was gently weeping, his legs not working so well anymore now that he was almost bent double from the pain. Shauna didn’t lift her head from Joel’s chest to watch them go. She stayed, practically glued to his hip, until Joel had no other choice but to take her home.

--

You’d seen the look on Joel’s face, had ushered Ellie under your arm and away from the crowd before she had to see him rip those two men apart with his teeth. He was furious, like an adder poised to strike, while Tommy stood beside him and tried to keep a level head. Rumours were already swirling about what had happened at the mess hall by the time you turned up your street with Ellie behind you, and you blocked them out. The truth would become apparent whether you got caught up in the eddying flow of it.

Your main concern was just Ellie. You did the only thing you could think to do with a stressed-out teenager in your house: you fed her. Standing at the bench with her peeling potatoes the two of you discussed absolutely nothing at all – what air conditioning used to feel like, how loud planes were in the sky, what it was like to go to the mall and spend the whole afternoon just looking at clothes – knowing that Joel would come for her.

After a long silence, while you lay the potato slices down in a pan and poured cheese over the top to bake, Ellie finally spoke.

‘Was he a bad man?’ she asked you, and you sighed.

‘I don’t know, I didn’t know him all that well.’

Ellie looked at you sharply, surprise on her features.

‘What do you mean? You’ve spent nearly every day with us.’

You felt the thud of realisation in your chest. Joel. Was Joel a bad man.

‘Ellie, why do you ask that?’ you questioned, but she turned away from you, her shoulders rounding over. You watched as she tugged on her long sleeves, even in the heat of the kitchen.

‘He gets that look…’ she said, and you found yourself nodding.

‘He would never hurt you, or people he cared about. That looked to me like a man fighting to keep his family safe.’

‘Which family?’ she asked. You put the tray gently on the bench, to take a moment, to steady yourself.

‘Ellie…’ you started, but there was the sound of the front door opening, and heavy footfalls in the hall. Ellie was already moving towards him.

‘Ellie!’ he was calling, booming into the quiet of your house.

‘In here!’ she called back, and they met in the doorway, nearly toppling over with the force in which they collided into each other, Joel holding her fast to his chest.

‘Are you alright? Are you hurt?’ he was saying, and she was shaking her head. He pulled her away from him, cradling her head in both of his hands as he studied her, from her scalp to her toes. ‘Nothin’? Nothin’?’ he asked again, and she stilled in his hands.

‘What was that, Joel?’ she asked, and you watched as his eyes slid closed, pulling her into his body again.

‘Nothin’ babygirl, it was nothin’.’ He muttered.

You swallowed harshly, something thick and hot in your throat suddenly making it hard to breathe. He finally noticed you, his brown eyes snapping to yours as you watched him cradle his daughter.

‘You alright?’ he asked you, genuine concern written over his face.

You nodded. ‘We did just fine,’ you said, quietly, but he shook his head in response.

‘No, you,’ he clarified. You weren’t sure if you were alright, actually. Weren’t sure if you could instruct every cell in your body to stop screaming for him to reach out for you, grasp your wrist so gentle in his hand and pull you into his chest to stand by Ellie, your nose tucked in under his jaw and feeling the heat of his pulse there on your skin.

You exhaled, slowly, steeled yourself. It hadn’t been anything, and it wouldn’t be. You nodded your head at him, not trusting your own voice under the strain of the moment.

He seemed satisfied, his eyes gently closing again as Ellie wriggled out from under his arms, straightening her shirt and wiping her eyes with her sleeve, trying to hide it by turning away from you both.

‘What’s gonna happen to them?’ she asked, and he sighed.

‘They’re gettin’ kicked out,’ he said, and you watched the anger bloom over her face.

‘That’s it?’ she asked, her voice rising as she worked herself up. ‘That’s bullshit! They nearly killed like 50 people!’

‘Easy,’ Joel said, raising his hands. You watched as his brows saddled.

‘Ellie, come help me set the table,’ you said, trying to divert her. She was still caught up in the indignation of it, though, like all teenagers when faced with an injustice.

‘That’s crap though, they shouldn’t be allowed to live!’

It jarred you for a second, a teenager calling for the death penalty, and you wondered for the first time in a while what the world had become. Such that it was, such that it would ever be again.

‘Enough,’ Joel said, quiet but deadly, and Ellie jutted out her lower lip, but stopped. You could see a well-worn dynamic playing out in front of you. You felt out of place in the middle of it.

‘We oughta get goin’,’ he said to her, and he looked exhausted all of a sudden, far older than his years.

‘We made dinner,’ Ellie said, angry and pouty still.

‘I won’t eat all this, I can bring some around,’ you offered, and realised you had already betrayed her, that you were supposed to campaign for them to stay. You faltered, looking between her and Joel. Did you want them to stay? Was it a good idea? To even offer? ‘Unless you…’

‘We’ve imposed enough on Teach tonight,’ Joel said, not looking at you, and you felt the sting of the rejection even though you had been expecting it, had been reminding yourself not to hope for any different.

Ellie stomped down the hall, and you heard your door swing open so hard you wouldn’t have been surprised if she wrenched it free. Joel looked at his feet, his eyes only ever flitting in your direction, his face pink.

‘You doin’ alright?’ he asked.

‘Nothing for you to feel guilty about, Joel,’ you said, quickly, and he sighed. You watched him flex his fingers once, twice, on his left hand. He pulled it up to his chest and rested it over his heart.

‘-nk you for still seein’ her,’ he said, and you shrugged.

‘I care about her, Joel. More than I care about you. Or me.’

He nodded. He knew it was true, he had always known it, and he knew he had used it against you when it suited him, when it meant he could wonder closer to you, when he could feel the heat of you gentle on his skin.

‘M’sorry…’ he started, but Ellie was calling for him from the front porch.

‘We goin’ old man OR WHAT?’ she yelled. You hid a little smirk, which Joel returned. Suddenly you were both shy, but some of the weight had shifted. You stood firmer on your two feet.

‘G’bye Joel,’ you said. ‘I can bring some of this around if you need me to…’

‘Shauna’s cookin’,’ he said, without thinking, and then suddenly thinking too much when he looked up and saw the look of shock pass over your face.

‘Oh…’ you said.

‘She ain’t good at it…’ he tried, to see if he could get the lightness back, to see if he could get you to smile. He could get through it if he just got you to smile.

You felt yourself falter. You hated it, hated the feeling and yourself for letting yourself feel it, for putting yourself in the position to.

Joel stared at you, helpless and deflating. The back of his neck ached from tension, his hands still tremoring from the adrenaline, from the fury.

‘Y’know you’re welcome over anytime,’ he said, because you were suddenly so still, your breath so light he could barely see your chest rise and fall, and he hated the idea of you over here alone, hated the idea of you missing your family, your friends, Ellie and maybe even him a little bit, if he still deserved it. He coughed, clearing his throat, trying hard to ignore the sound of Ellie pacing on your front porch. ‘I know I don’t deserve any more of your time, and I ain’t askin’ for it, I just…’

You watched as he seemed unable to decide what to do with his hands, digging them into his pockets, pulling them out again to rest on his hips, crossing them over his chest. You watched his hands because it was easier than looking at his face, easier than having to look him in the eyes while he actively, outwardly pitied you.

‘You know I had a life here before you got here, Joel,’ you said, your voice clear and unwavering. ‘You know I was here a long while before you? Don’t look at me some lost little puppy now that you’ve decided not to play with me anymore. I have a job and…friends and…enough memories of a family that loved me to fuel me ‘til my last sunset. I miss them and I love them but I’m not sad, Joel.’

You lifted the pan of potatoes and slammed them, a little more forcefully than you intended, into the oven. ‘Go home to Shauna, whatever she’s cooked up for you. You do what you need to do, Joel.’

He cared about you, he knew it then by the way he wanted to wrap you in his arms and kiss you until dawn even while you told him off. By the way he would let you yell at him every minute for the rest of his days if it just meant you were talking to him, if it meant you got firey and animated and more yourself.

He knew you were shooing him away. And he would go, in just a minute. ‘I ain’t sorry for it,’ he said, when you looked like you might have been ready to listen. ‘M’sorry for how I treated ya, for how I reacted when…everything changed. But I ain’t sorry for kissin’ ya, and I ain’t sorry for that…’ he gestured to the couch over his shoulder, and you resolutely didn’t look where he was pointing. ‘I’d do that every day of the week, sweet girl, if it weren’t for how things are…and if I thought for any second y’might let me.’

He came forward and you stood, hypnotised, unable to step back even as he lifted his hands and cradled your head in them, just as he had minutes ago with Ellie, just as you had wished, quietly, and only so that Rose could hear, that he would hold you the same.

‘I regret nothin’ about you, only how I handled it, and for that I’ll be sorry for the rest of my time.’ He stared into your eyes, not wavering until he could see that you had understood, that you had heard him. You felt tears threatening, and you were so fucking sick of crying over this man, but right then you wanted him to kiss you even though you knew, for all the heat of his gaze, he was really saying he never would again.

‘Enough now…’ you said, taking his hands from your face and settling them back down at his sides. He nodded.

‘I know, baby,’ he said, quiet as he leant forward anyway and rested his forehead on yours. ‘Enough,’ he agreed, his words mingling with the hot tears on your cheeks.

--

Joel stood next to Robert, Tommy and Billy at the gate. He watched, closely, as Steve and Wren were dragged into their saddles, their arms still tied behind their backs. Wren had gone eerily quiet, apparently having passed out in the night from the pain, and he looked sweaty and pale now. Joel knew that sending him beyond the gates in this state was a death sentence, but he was finding it hard to care. His mind kept turning time back to the moment Shauna’s words hit him – mess hall, gas line – and the way he had immediately thought of Ellie, and of you. He would kill these two men a thousand times over if it meant he never had to feel that again. He was getting too old for it. He couldn’t bear a new way to fail his girls.

Not his girls.

Shauna had stayed, tucked up in his bed while Joel offered to take the couch, and he rubbed at the crick in his neck now as a result. There wasn’t fanfare, just the creak of the opening gates as Guillaume and his men rounded on them.

‘Follow the river, two-three hours West, there’s some mountain ranges, some rapids. They won’t get back,’ Billy instructed, and Guillaume nodded. Steve glared at Joel from the saddle. He stared, impassively, back.

‘Town’s a shithole anyway,’ Steve said, and Joel grinned at him.

‘Yeah, but this shithole still ain’t yours,’ he replied, because he couldn’t help himself.

The horses took off, Billy pulling the gate closed behind them. Joel stood watch until the sound of the hooves ebbed away.

Robert tipped his hat to the brothers. Tommy turned back towards the stables, and Joel followed on his heels.

‘Thank God that’s over,’ Joel said, and Tommy clicked his jaw a little. ‘What?’ he asked.

‘Don’t feel right,’ Tommy said, without elaborating. Joel felt the urge to roll his eyes, his emerging need to believe it was dealt with for a moment overpowering him, before he remembered Tommy had never dismissed him even when he came, panic stricken, believing there to be monsters beyond the gate.

‘Tell me,’ he said, and Tommy sighed.

‘The look on Wren’s face…’ Tommy started, and Joel interrupted almost immediately.

‘They were guilty as sin, course he looked…’

‘Were they, Joel? We didn’t exactly investigate. He looked…surprised? I don’t know, confused?’

‘He thought he’d done such a good job of stitchin’ up Shauna he never figured she’d tell…’ Joel reasoned. ‘He was surprised because she said somethin’, is all.’

‘He seem like the scheming sort, Joel? The kind of fuckin…mastermind…’

Joel thought back to Wren, the way he was quiet and liked tending the animals, the way he was kind of reedy, kind of skinny, in a way that was more than just about starving half to death on the side of a mountain and somewhat genetic, somewhat constitutional.

‘Steve, though…’

‘Yeah, Steve,’ Tommy agreed.

‘Nasty fucker.’

‘Mmm.’

The two brothers fell into step, and then into silence.

‘Don’t see why she’d throw ‘em under the bus, she ain’t like that.’ Joel said, answering his brother’s unspoken question.

Tommy looked up at his big brother, at the way Joel’s eyes were narrow, resolute, in the early morning light.

‘You’re probably right, it was just the heat of the moment, I guess,’ Tommy said. ‘So much happenin’ at once.’

Joel nodded at him, satisfied. They arrived at the stables, Tommy reaching for a pitchfork and handing it, without ceremony, to Joel.

‘Whatchu doin’ with that, brother?’ Joel asked, refusing to take what was offered to him.

‘Muck out,’ Tommy said, nodding at the stable floor. Joel backed away, his hands in the air.

‘No, sir, that ain’t my job.’

‘Ain’t mine either but we got our best men out there right now, who else is gonna do it?’

Wren would have done it, Joel thought. Wren probably had been doing it, quietly, for weeks.

‘C’mon big man, you ain’t afraid of dirt,’ Tommy said, goading his brother with the absolute certainty that it would work.

‘Ain’t the dirt I’m worried about,’ he said, but he was grinning now, and Tommy was grinning back at him. He reached over and took the pitchfork.

It had been a while since he’d done this kind of honest, grunt work, Joel thought. There was a kind of poetry in it. Maybe all this time things were just leading to the eventual inevitability that he would have to shovel shit.

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[acourtofthought]

"lots of other characters that I'm pretty / wildly in love with, and I'd love the chance to tell their stories (and show other parts of their world)".

SJM was definitely in love with Nessian and while she was excited to tell their story, I wouldn't say they gave us a detailed look at "other parts of their world" outside of that which we'd seen through Feyre's pov. We had minor visits to the bog and continent but nothing new in terms of court related visits.

So who is a character she's wildly in love with that could take us elsewhere in their world?

Around 2:14, SJM talks of how Lucien has always been one of her favorite characters

In another interview she mentions how Lucien's character was based off Sam Heughan's portrayal of Jamie Fraser and she even thanks the actor in her ACOTAR acknowledgements.

Her love of Jamie Fraser is further confirmed in an interview from MuggleNet:

"I went to the Outlander castle. I’m the biggest Outlander fan, so I took a photo in front of that like “Maybe Jamie was standing here!”

So I think it's safe to say that Lucien falls under the above category AND he can take us to many different courts outside of the NC, the Human Lands and even the continent.

We also have SJM telling us that she'd love to write spin off books for both of the sisters someday. ⬇️

We have confirmation that she knew who the first two spin-off books were going to be about and that she'd already done research for Elain's book. There's also the mention that if SJM weren't an author she'd be a florist or DJ ⬇️

She writes how she lets her characters lead her, where she loves the times where she's subconsciously been planting seeds and there's an exciting moment of discovery when the character reveals themself to her ⬇️

Her explaining how Elucien became mates is exactly what she described above. And the notable similarities in ACOTAR for both Lucien and Elain before she even knew they were going to be Mates are (to me) some of the subconscious seeds she was referring to. ⬇️

SJM said the following of Elain: ⬇️

She tells us her energy would match well with Elain's. We have a response from her telling us she'd be a florist (a very Elain like career) in another life. We know she LOVES Outlander and the actor she said Lucien was based off of. SJM doesn't equal Elain and Lucien doesn't wholly equal Jamie Fraser but it's ridiculous not to see why she made them mates.

This isn't proof of an Elucien endgame but what it tells me is that Lucien is absolutely a real contender for Elain regardless of what it currently looks like.

Especially when she tells us this about Az:

"but I'm kinda scared of him".

I know she loves all her characters, she said she'd date all her characters but....she wrote Elain as being bothered by cruelty in SF, made sure to mention how cruel Az can be with his victims in SF, and the above interview is from ACOFAS (the same book where she had Rhys say Az sometimes scared the shit out of him). 🤷

This is also how she prefers her couples: ⬇️

That's definitely NOT what we see from Az towards Elain in SF. He doesn't view her as his equal when he says she shouldn't be exposed to the Trove, he doesn't view her as his equal when he gives himself credit for saving Elain but fails to mention everyone she saved, and he doesn't view her as his equal when he confirms he hides who he is from her.

And for the arguments that because E/riel wanted to kiss and Az questioned the Cauldron which must equal proof of love, I'm just going to add this:

It really doesn't matter what the relationship between two characters look like right now, in her own words SJM says she will find a way for the character (reader) to see what she wants them to see, making those red flags easily overlooked.

I don't think Elucien's find it all that difficult to spot the red flags between E/riel but even if some in the fandom disagree, it doesn't mean SJM wasn't been planning for it all along.

[zeivira]

I just realized both heinkel and subaru both have feelings of inferiority to their parents (which caused subaru to be a neet. )heinkel is nowhere near his parents strength and felt the weight of his parents legacywhile subaru felt inferior to his father and is burdened with being called kenichis son when asked about who he'd make the protagonist if not Subaru, said Heinkel would be the mc.

Heinkel met his wife ( who would tell him that she is sure he can be the next sword saint so she was his rem ) before he had a crisis like Subaru did so he was able to bounce back sooner than him. But with her now gone and Rein easily being better than him it was like a rubber band and shot him even further back

Honestly feel like Aganua if Subaru was based of henikel

Both alcoholics

Both crippling depression

Both fueled by hatred

boboth subaru and heinkel have a girl in a coma who they are trying to wake from it.

Absolutely yes to all of this. Subaru and Heinkel have lots of parallels and I LIIIIIVE for all of them because – while they both faced similar circumstances, the way they dealt with them was completely different.

And arguably, Heinkel did better—at first, at least. Mostly because he did worse. Let me explain:

Heinkel and Subaru both deal with huge expectations—they both fail to meet them. But as far as we know, Subaru actually did meet them at first??? He was popular, had good marks, and people liked him!!! Then he had to put in an effort, didn’t, failed, felt shame about it, and ended up shutting in because of it.

Meanwhile Heinkel was a failure from the get-go! He doesn’t know greatness. Until he meets Louanna—then he does something right??? He has mommy and daddy issues and some people try to ruin his (already pretty bad, because of the aforementioned expectations) reputation, but he still manages to be a good husband.

Cheers for him, cheers for him.

Until he doesn’t, because something bad happened to Louanna, she fell into a coma and the one thing he was good at… he is not anymore.

And I think this is the core difference!!! (I might be wrong, but everyone, please tell me if you disagree).

Subaru dealt terribly with failure at first because he knows how greatness feels. Thus, he shut in.

Heinkel dealt decently with failure at first because he was never great. Then he does, and when he fails, all his previous insecurities return.

But one went through the crisis as a teen, and the other went through the crisis as an adult.

The fact Heinkel is better when Wilhelm gets erased shows his daddy issues are what affects his interpretation of the entire world. More than Louanna’s coma itself, even.

I headcanon that part of the reason Wilhelm is so kind to Subaru is because he feels Subaru is similar to Heinkel, and as he totally failed to bond with his son, he projects his relationship there and tries to bond with a blank state Heinkel instead.

I never really read Aganau If so I can’t talk about that Subaru, but the *from zero* speech always felt to me like the moment in which Subaru learnt to accept failure as something that you deal with to later on try again better, instead of something you must live with and can’t change.

Heinkel’s only success was his wife, so his way to become successful again is to bring her back?

I might be rambling now.  

Anyway, @everyone please feel free to add your thoughts on this. I would love to hear different takes

[butterflydm]

wot rewatch 1x7: the dark along the ways

spoilers for s1 of WoT and through Knife of Dreams in the books; minor spoilers for one of the s2 character blurbs

Aaaaah, my angel Tigraine is here to kick ass and have a baby. This cold open floored when when I first saw it and it still floors me. It's amazing. I'm looking forward to more Maiden action in s2 so much. Not just the fighting here, but the emotion -- how frustrated she is that they won't just let her have her baby in peace, how she finally has a moment to herself and then this new potential threat shows up and we hang in that moment. Fantastic episode opener and it really makes me excited about what we might get in s2 for the cold opens.

So... given that she left Andor to chase a prophecy to save the world and has found herself on Dragonmount about to give birth... Tigraine could probably guess who her kid was going to be at this point, I feel like? She was very well educated, first in Andor and then in the White Tower, so I'm sure she would have known the Prophecies (maybe she even figured out when she learned that the female warrior society of the Aiel was called the Maidens of the Spear?)

The Emond's Field people want to get Mat but Moiraine must refuse because he's literally in recasting limbo right now. I love how Rand just instantly lost all trust in Moiraine the second she refuses to open the Waygate. She won him to her side by helping Mat, then immediately lost him once she stopped. Rand (and Nynaeve) are so protective & defensive over Mat in this episode and I really love it.

Of course, Rand is now probably also about, like 75% sure that he's actually the Dragon and so there's no need to worry about Mat anyway. But Moiraine is absolutely not sure who the Dragon is and it very well could be Mat (imo if she wasn't worried that Mat was a potential channeler, it would be pointless to send the Red Ajah after him).

Rand's little despairing looks back at the closed Waygate and his instant defense of Mat against anyone who says a word against him (even Egwene): catnip to a newly-minted Cauthor shipper.

Yeah, Mat is 100% Moiraine's least favorite child -- she 'knows' what choice he would make, she says (the wrong one). So, there are actually two different ways that the show could go with Mat -- Moiraine could be either right or wrong that Mat would make the wrong/evil choice and it depends on how they've decided to handle the Seanchan. Because if they follow the same storyline that the books did, Mat does essentially choose to embrace evil along that path (even if Jordan never admits it) when he decides that he's okay being married to an unremorseful and unwilling-to-change slaver. If Tuon stays the same way that she is in the books, then Moiraine was right about Mat. If Mat and Tuon's storyline gets changed/updated to be less... awful, then Moiraine will have been wrong about Mat.

Lan tries to tease Nynaeve to cheer her up but fails, so he tries to reassure her instead, telling her that Mat is safer where they left him. It's a sweet little moment.

Both Egwene and Rand are more open in this moment than they were in episode 2 and are able to share a snuggle as they sleep (but Egwene also checks in with Rand first this time and waits for him to essentially nonverbally give her a 'yes' before snuggling in). Rand is also a lot less raw about the breakup and they're hovering in a weird 'maybe we're not broken up after all' space.

People's worst fears clawing at them is a lot more informative kind of existential terror than just gore-whispers.

Honestly, given how on-edge everyone is put by the Black Wind, it would more surprising if it didn't lead to tensions and arguments. That was a rough experience for them all.

Lots of Lan backstory in this episode! His title, people from his past, etc.

Poor Moiraine looks so exhausted. Pretty much now until the end of the season. This is also when Moiraine has the message sent to the Red Ajah about Mat, which Lan is not around to hear, I note.

Perrin engages in some Fainspotting!

Oh, I notice that when Min serves drinks to the ta'veren, she keeps her eyes down. To avoid seeing all the viewings maybe? And I'm pleased to say that show!Min remains likable on rewatch, despite my bad experience with book!Min in my reread! She actually is a world-weary and well-traveled woman who has been through Too Much and is Tired instead of feeling like a tweenager cosplaying as one. And Moiraine literally has to blackmail her into sharing her viewings about the EF5.

And reading the new s2 summary about Min also tells us why Moiraine threatening her with exposure is enough to make her crack -- she was forced to be a carnival act! Yikes, Min's aunts!

Also that does look like the same baby from Rand's vision in the next episode, at least to me, so I think that's what she was seeing.

The EF5 all confronting Moiraine. I do wonder if it was the whispers of the Ways that made her decide to open up to them about how the non-Dragons will die when the Dragon faces the Dark One. And though the group does fracture into an argument after this discussion, they do present a united front against Moiraine here.

This argument also does a good job in laying down Egwene's philosophy and her reasons for wanting to do this. And we get another passionate defense of Mat from Rand.

It's fascinating how quickly Nynaeve jumps the conclusion that Rand and Perrin are 'fighting over' Egwene (something that both Rand and Egwene find initially baffling). I wonder how long Nynaeve has been expecting this to come up as an issue between them, that she goes there so quickly. Back in ep1, she sends Perrin away from Egwene's celebration to spend time with his wife and then in this episode, she notices Perrin noticing Egwene and Rand snuggling together. She is on "Perrin->Egwene HIGH ALERT" at all times and it's just kinda fascinating. If she'd just let them argue, I sincerely doubt that Perrin would ever have let anything slip.

Perrin's staring at Rand's mouth while saying "only woman I ever loved was my wife" moment. With a single shot, Perrin comes across as infinitely less heterosexual than his book counterpart.

We get some more good Lan content in his scenes with Moiraine and then Nynaeve. It's nice to get to see a piece of Lan's culture and for him to share it with Nynaeve. All the scenes that he has with both of them in this episode are really good. Lan comparing his devotion to Moiraine to Nynaeve's protectiveness over the Two Rivers' kids; I like it.

And this scene with Egwene and Rand is his last stab at denial. He wants to pretend that he can still be Egwene's husband/Warder. But if he doesn't give up on his denial, he might be condemning Egwene, Perrin, & Nynaeve to a painful death. What Egwene says here (that she will stand by Rand if he's the Dragon) is also related to why he goes off on his own and pretends to be dead imo -- he knows his friends wouldn't abandon him and so he has to abandon them for their safety.

And we reach the point where everything is at a crisis point and Rand can't keep denying every strange thing that's been building up since the night the Trollocs attacked.

This scene with Rand and Min is very good. Again, show!Min is doing a lot better than book!Min. Also, Min, I'm holding you to that "three beautiful women" viewing.

Aah, the kindness of how the show did Rand's birth really gets to me. The story is so much... colder in the books. That show!Tigraine gets to have a last moment of connection before she dies, and gets some assurance that her kid will be taken care of. It was an incredibly compassionate change to make.

lol, the poor awkwardness of the three Emond's Fielders (before they realize that Rand has disappeared with Moiraine).

Moiraine's thoughts, probably: "shit, it's one of the boys. Well... at least it's not Mat".

[just-some-guy-joust]

Just Some Guy OC Tourney - Side B: Round 3

Rules:

do NOT be mean to anyone or any characters in these polls. you MUST clarify if you are joking/teasing or you will be blocked. if you are someone who entered an oc into this and you are mean to other contestants you will be disqualified

do NOT claim a character doesn't deserve to be here. yes including your own. be nice

if you are posting propaganda you have to @ tag us, including if your propaganda is in the reblogs. it is difficult to tell when something is or isn't propaganda. anything not tagging us will likely be missed

please don't hesitate to let me know if i messed something up!

have fun, hype each other up <3 thank you

Professor Morelle Da Capo | She/her | @kira-moonrabbit

CW: The source, Lobotomy Corporation, has a large list of content warnings. This character by herself though is fine

Robotwoman who is famous for being dedicated. She works 24/7. Her hobbies include "logging everyone's opinions about her" and "standing still thinking about bicycles"

~

Mendel Warrenpeace | He/him | @bittersweetbonbon

CW: Transformation horror, isekai, lightning strikes

Mendel was just a normal guy, who happened to love Toontown: Corporate Clash *so* much that he played it nearly 24/7, maxing out all of his gags and disguises, even going so far as to become a beta tester for experimental VR haptic suits, just so he could be more immersed in the game. However, he was foolish enough to play the game in VR during the most intense lightning storm seen in his area, got struck by said lightning, and was isekaed into the game itself. Now trapped in the world he used to adore, at level one no less, he would do anything to get back home, up to and including re-beating the game, no matter how strenuous running around and throwing pies at robots is in "real life". Of course, beating the game isn't going to free him from Toontown's inky clutches, but we don't have to tell him that, right? Of course not.

Promos: He has a blog at mendelwarrenpeace.tumblr.com and a WIP toyhouse page at toyhou.se/26655994.mendel-warrenpeace

~

Full images and descriptions under the cut!

Professor is a machine who was built to replace employees! Well, a prototype that failed that they put to work. Her robotic-ness serves not to reduce her Just-Some-Guyness, but rather to amplify it. She logs everything that happens to her. She loves to partake in tasks and objectives. However this does not mean she is an emotionless beep-boop, but instead she has the personality of a tired but kind old lady. The kind who has an endless supply of caramels in a bowl somewhere. However she has no idea how to form her own preferences. She's factory default in everything. Plain as water. She sees the hells of being in lobcorp as normal and natural. One time she went to another branch and was absolutely delighted by a "hang in there, baby!" poster as though it was the cutest thing she's ever seen.

Mendel is, quite literally, so just some guy that I refuse to develop what he was like or what his name was pre-isekae, because his past is literally so generic and unimportant. He was NPC-core. He was nothingburger. His only friend is a 17-year-old who physically cannot stop themself from stealing things. Even now his only hobby is playing video games all day. He almost died a few days after being isekaed because he didn't want to leave his house. He's scared to walk around because he thinks the robots will shoot him point-blank just for being near them. I want to grab him and spin him around like that gif of a chimpanzee. He's even a furry.

[callmebrycelee]

9-1-1 REACTION

Guess who is two episodes behind on their reactions? This guy here! So, this week, you will be getting not one but two reactions for everyone’s favorite gay firefighter show … 9-1-1. Chile, this last episode snatched every single follicle out of my scalp. Honestly, how do they expect us to wait a whole week when so many lives are left hanging in the balance? But before I get to this week’s episode, let’s do some backtracking and talk about the episode from last week. This reaction is for the season 8, thirteenth episode “Invisible” which originally aired on April 3, 2025. The episode was written by Lyndsey Beaulieu and Taylor Wong and directed by Brenna Malloy. As always, there will be spoilers so if you haven’t seen the episode, stop reading right now and go watch. Okay, without further ado, let’s talk about the episode.

To start things off, this is an Eddie and Hen-centric episode. I’ll start with Hen’s story and circle back around to Eddie who is still figuring things out in El Paso. In a nice homage to John Hughes’ Sixteen Candles, it’s Hen’s birthday and everyone (except for Athena and Eddie) has forgotten. We spend the episode watching Hen get more and more disheartened every time one of her family members and friends fail to mention that it’s her birthday. Even her own mother (played by the incomparable Marsha Warfield) has forgotten her only child’s special day and when called on it has the absolute nerve to cop an attitude. I felt bad for Hen this episode. I get maybe Bobby or Buck forgetting, but Karen and Chimney forgetting is pretty unforgivable if you ask me considering they’re the closest to her. I did find it funny that Eddie of all people remembered that it was Hen’s birthday when the man can’t even commit his own son’s social itinerary to memory.

“Archie, you’re not invisible. You’re making yourself disappear.” – Hen Wilson

To make a bad thing worst, Hen is also forced to contend with the most pathetic man in the world. Hen first encounters Archie Mullin (played by Kevin L. Johnson) during an emergency involving a bed with a secret compartment underneath. Poor Archie has lost his job, his fiancée and his car all in less than 24 hours. During the second emergency involving an 18-wheeler, Hen implores Archie to stop making himself invisible and tells him it’s okay for him to take up space. Archie takes Hen’s advice a little too close to heart and finally snaps during a confrontation on a city bus. Archie stabs a guy and then takes the other passengers on the bus hostage. The 118 arrive on the scene along with Athena and Hen manages to talk Archie down. As they both get off the bus, Archie reaches in his pocket, which is perceived as a threat by the S.W.A.T. standing nearby. They fire at Archie, but Hen manages to push him out of the way before he is hit. Turns out, Archie was only trying to give Hen a keychain in the shape of her namesake. I must say, this plot does remind me of another episode from the spin-off show 9-1-1: Lone Star. In the episode “Impulse Control” we saw a character lose his cool twice before he finally snapped and killed a drunk driver. This episode followed the same formula but I’m okay with it because I think it worked for this particular story.

After a disastrous day at work, Hen sits down to a belated birthday dinner cooked by Bobby.  She forgives Karen and the others for forgetting her birthday. I did think it was funny that the only one who got punished for missing her big day was Buck who must atone for his actions by being Hen and Karen’s personal handyman. Overall, I loved this plot. I love it when Hen is the focus because Aisha Hinds puts 100% into whatever she’s doing on camera. I also love it when we get to learn new information about a character. Apparently, Hen’s birthday is in early April which makes her an Aries. Also, it was good to see her mom again on the show even if she did irk me. I also love that Hen did get celebrated at the end. She deserves to be celebrated because Hen is the MVP of this show.

Now let’s talk about our other plot of the episode. Eddie is still adjusting to being back in El Paso and is more determined than ever to get Christopher back. He enlists Buck to help him out with dinner via FaceTime but has to cut the call short when his parents and Christopher arrive. They’ve brought Chinese food which is super disappointing for Eddie since he’d planned to serve them dinner. What bothered me most about this episode is that Eddie’s parents (played by George DelHoyo and Paula Marshall) seem oblivious to his feelings. At times it feels accidental and other times it feels intentional. When it comes to Eddie and his parents, I can see where either party is coming from. Eddie believes he’s atoned for his sins which caused Christopher to leave in the first place but for Ramón and Helena Diaz, this isn’t the first time they’ve seen their son screw up. One thing that annoys me about the fandom is how forgiving and forgetful they are when it comes to Eddie. They often gloss over the fact that Eddie signed up for another tour of duty right after Christopher was born, meaning Shannon was left at home, alone, with a newborn with CP. And just in case you have trouble reading between the lines, Eddie abandoned his wife and kid under the guise of fighting for his country. Meanwhile, Shannon gets crucified by the fandom for leaving Eddie to raise Christopher alone. Flash-forward to season 3 when Eddie decided to join a fight club because he was incapable of dealing with his own emotions in a healthy way. Eddie almost killed a man which could’ve resulted in him losing his job and his son. Then there’s the whole cheating on his girlfriend with his dead wife’s doppelganger situation that resulted in Christopher peacing out and calling his grandparents. What I’m trying to say is that Eddie has screwed up many times and presumably his parents have stood by and watched him make these mistakes. I’m not saying that Ramón and Helena are right to take Christopher away from Eddie. What I’m saying is that I can somewhat understand why they’re a bit untrusting of their son’s ability to raise their grandson.

“So, go. Nobody can stop you. You know, dad up.” – Evan Buckley

Since the theme of this episode is being forgetful, Eddie is also being forgetful. He forgets that Christopher has a chess tournament in Lubbock on the same day he plans to take Christopher to see the Mavericks. He learns that Ramón will be accompanying Christopher to the tournament and when he asks if he can tag-along, he is told there is no room for him. Ouch! I must say, Ramón can be a bit of a dick at times but it’s actually Helena who’s the proverbial snake in the grass. She’s so passive-aggressive and condescending when it comes to Eddie. I don’t like how she belittles his job as a Lyft driver especially since she was on his case last episode to get a job. Thankfully, Eddie gets some solid advice from Buck and Chimney. They encourage him to fight for Christopher, which he does by driving all the way to Lubbock to attend the chess tournament. When he gets there, he sees his dad coaching Christopher from the sidelines. Christopher throws up and Eddie intervenes to help him get cleaned up. Christopher reveals that he hates chess and that he’s only competing because Ramón loves it. This is an eye-opening moment for Eddie who experienced something similar in his own childhood. He and Christopher leave the tournament without Ramón and return to El Paso. Eddie then drives to his parents’ house and grabs all of Christopher’s things. When Helena confronts him about it, Eddie thanks her for being there for him when he needed her. Now it’s time for him to be there for Christopher.

All in all, this was a good episode. It wasn’t as action-packed as some of the other episodes we’ve gotten this season, but I love when 9-1-1 slows things down a bit and gives us some character-driven episodes. I think the writers realize that things got really dark with the serial killer story, and they needed to lighten things up a bit before they deliver the one-two punch of 9-1-1: Contagion. This episode has me curious as to what will happen to Eddie now that he has Christopher back. I think it would be a poor decision to uproot Christopher again to move him back to Los Angeles but at the same time you can’t keep having this side adventures with Eddie back in Texas. Either Eddie leaves the show for good, or they find a way to bring him back to the 118. With that said, I’m sort of enjoying seeing Eddie on his own. I think he’s a better character apart from the others. Apart from Buck. If 9-1-1: Lone Star hadn’t got cancelled, I think he would’ve made a nice addition to the 126. I do wish they’d make up their minds about Eddie because the back and forth will get old after a while. Anyway, I think this is the shortest reaction I’ve done in a while, but I have a feeling my next reaction is going to a long one. Until next time …

[ladyrijus]

So I'm going absolutely insane over Ocarina of Time Zelda and Twilight Princess Zelda again. This is fine.

Imagine you're Princess Zelda, a child who had to bear the consequences of a civil war your father failed to truly end, all because no one ever took your warnings seriously. Imagine, despite being blessed by the Golden Goddesses, you fucked over your kingdom so bad in the past seven years, that the only way you think to repent for what you have done is to send your hero back in time to warn everyone about Ganondorf and save what used to be, all while giving your hero his childhood back.

Surely that would work... right?

As your hero disappears before your eyes, you commend yourself silently for your wisdom, never realizing that your plan was just as, if not more, naive than gathering all the spiritual stones only for Ganondorf to ultimately seize them.

But it doesn't matter how far into hell you've damned both your present and past world. You're so blinded by your grief and regret, that what you have within you now is an all-consuming desire for revenge. Sealing Ganondorf in the Sacred Realm wasn't enough to satiate your sorrow; what you want is for him to keep losing. You tell yourself as you ascend the throne that you did it for your people, but in reality, you had done it for yourself. It was the only way to deal with the pain.

So your hero warns everyone of Ganondorf's evil intentions and gracefully makes his exit, his duty finished. Somehow, it just makes things worse. Ganondorf still gets his piece of the Triforce, and though he is banished to a realm where all of your worst dissenters go, he's still alive. Your past self can't stomach the fact that one of the Seven Sages of the Sacred Realm is dead thanks to you, and she fears that, with the Triforce of Power, the Gerudo King will come back. It's only a matter of time.

It's only safe to say, then, that your past self must have either dedicated herself to the eradication of the Gerudo tribe or let it happen, because there's no one left now but the vengeful dead in the desert with the tribe's namesake. Was it to capture Twinrova, his allies in witchcraft? Was it to ensure that no one of the tribe would be able to help Ganondorf escape?

Was it worth it?

The worst part is that your past self never thought to ask the sages why the Royal Family had jurisdiction over the Mirror of Twilight, never thought to consider that maybe it is a bad idea to put those who think ill of the Royal Family of Hyrule in one realm together.

Imagine you're Princess Zelda, and you're locked in your castle while you watch your kingdom crumble in the twilight. You realize, as you surrender to the King of Twilight, that you've been dealt an unlucky hand. A bloody history is your birthright, and all you can think in your crushing guilt is to stand down, stand down, stand down, because your ancestors have done enough trying to take matters into their own hands, trying to control others.

"Some princess she is," your people must think, but they will never understand that the blood of the Gerudo, the Twili, and even the Bulblin tribe is on your hands. And so you keep your head bowed down, even if it is unbecoming of you.

When the time comes, you give your life to the Twilight Princess, because it is not fair for her to suffer from the actions of your ancestors. You ignore her screams of rejection and let your health become hers. It's fair, it's right. And you tell yourself everyday that you did it for your people and hers, but in reality, you had done it for yourself. It was the only way to deal with pain.

Ganondorf does die in the end, but it is not a happy occasion. You feel neither relief nor peace at the sight of the Master Sword struck through his chest. You bring a hand to your own breast reflexively, and bow your head down out of deference for the once respected king.

It is the least he deserves.

You also murmur a prayer for salvation on his behalf, even if the Light Spirits won't heed it. Because you understand that long before he succumbed to the corruption of the Triforce, he once thought about his people, just as you and Midna thought about yours.

Oh, Midna.

You knew what had to happen, but knowing didn't make the parting any less harder to bear. You only wish you could have said sorry to her once more before she broke the Mirror of Twilight, sorry for the horrible things your ancestors had put her people through, sorry for the way this had to end, sorry that you couldn't do anything more for her, sorry, sorry, sorry-

You turn to face your hero, and find him retreating tearfully with his back turned to you, his duty finished.

"I'm sorry," you want to tell him, "I'm sorry."

Only the Goddesses know how much it kills you inside to feel this helpless. If only you had some way to turn back time... if there was a chance out there to save the past, you would have taken it.

[ceeroosa]

ohhhh lord the straights are poking me today. i must rant.

OK. So. Your husband not magically knowing the exact perfect way to do a thing is NOT WEAPONIZED INCOMPETANCE.

firstly, you have a problem with perfectionism. it's not a cute quirk, it's a trait that causes you A LOT OF GRIEF and disappointment. The solution is not to require everyone around you to also have your unattainably high standards.

The solution is to practice sitting with the discomfort/fear/shame/whatever that arises when something isn't perfect, and eventually seeing the beauty of imperfection.

secondly - let's say you have no interest in dealing with any of what i just said; you like your standards and want to keep them. That's fine, but you still do not have the right to require those around you to a) magically know what your standards are and b) always meet them, especially if they don't have the same standards as you. (many don't)

The solution here is to not ask people to do things unless you're willing to either: explain and show in detail what your standard is and verbally request it be done that way or simply have it not be perfect.

that's it. stop setting your spouse and children (and yourSELF) up for failure by just expecting them to guess and do it perfectly every time. stop demanding that other people have the same expectations as you.

Stop making tiktoks and reels and posts published to the entire world where you shame and insult your husband or child for not being perfect, and allowing others to label them as abusive because they didn't put the stamps or the sheets on the "right way" and how you shouldn't have to ask or tell him how to do it /your way/ (which is not automatically correct) because he should just know.

does weaponized incompetance exist? yes! and it does not fucking look like your spouse just having different standards than you.

it looks like consistently failing to keep track of when your license expires, not renewing it, and then getting tickets so often that your wife just schedules and drives you to get your license renewed every time, so you dont have to worry about it.

it looks like not showing up to pick up your child from school for HOURS, leaving them and the teachers sitting there waiting, over and over again until the SCHOOL ITSELF SAYS "the dad cant pick the kid up anymore, banned, only the other parent because this is awful and not OK" and now you never have to do the school run ever again

it looks like not bathing or changing or supervising your children for the entire week you are their sole carer, so they show up at the family dinner absolutely filthy, and then everyone decides you can't ever be left alone with them again so you never have to be fully responsible for your kids again (but still demand emotional availability from them cuz ur so useless and sad)

it looks like going on a bender and getting so horrifically drunk and acting suicidal ANYTIME someone tries to hold you accountable for anything so that no one ever does because of what you might do

these are all real examples from my real childhood. THIS WAS MY FATHER. HE ACTED LIKE A PATHETIC BABY AND IT EFFECTIVELY REMOVED ALL RESPONSIBILITY IN HIS LIFE, WITHOUT LOSING FREEDOM TO DO THE THINGS HE WANTED TO DO. (until he fought the law and the law beat the absolute shit out of him)

THAT is weaponized incompetance. THAT is emotional abuse.

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

1. "The way you're handling her strikes me as wrong."

PLAISANCE - "Mind your own business, sir." Her posture becomes very rigid. "In *our society*, people don't get to tell each other how to raise their children. It's none of your or anyone's business."

2. "I'm here to dismantle the free market and abolish child labour."

PLAISANCE - She rolls her eyes. "You must be kidding, there's nothing like that happening."

"Depends. How much do you pay the kid?"

PLAISANCE - "Good sir, what does a young child do with money anyway? No, I save it for her, as a fund. She's securing her financial future out there."

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] - Slap the cuffs on her!

"I formally reprimand you for your corrupt activities."

"Oh. I guess I was mistaken."

PLAISANCE - She raises an eyebrow. "Oh, of course, officer. Good work. Are we done with the jokes now?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Yes, we've had quite enough fun here, right." The lieutenant taps his foot.

Plaisance strikes me as the kind of person who's going to need evidence before she changes her mind on anything.

3. "Okay... Let's change the subject."

PLAISANCE - The woman before you scans the store, her shoulders rigid and tense. Every now and then she nudges her glasses.

4. "Farewell for now, book peddler!" [Leave.]

RHETORIC - Hey, psst...

Look around.

Who -- me?

RHETORIC - Psst, hey, you!

Who -- me?

RHETORIC - Yes, you. Word on the street is you're ready to start building *communism* again!

'Again'?

How come there's *word on the street*?

RHETORIC - Yes -- you're ready to start building communism *again*. You've built it before, *they've* built it before. Hasn't really worked out yet, but neither has *love* -- should we just stop building love, too?

Can't argue with that.

Yes, we should all stop buildiing love.

Love has worked out really well for me. I'm a love winner.

RHETORIC - This conversation isn't really about love. Try to keep up, okay? This is about the communism you've *promised* to build. Word on the street is it's going to be ten thousand times larger than any communism previously attempted. Is that true?

How come there's *word on the street*?

RHETORIC - You keep saying things like *down with the bourgeoisie*, *eat the rich*, *sodomize the land-owners*, *impale all people who have more than 25 reál in their pocket*, *literally murder all human beings regardless of their political beliefs* -- that kind of stuff.

Oh, right. That sounds like me.

I haven't said anything like that.

I've said *some* mildly left wing things but none of those.

RHETORIC - Oh yes, the *mask of ambivalence*. Don't deny it. You're about to rip it off and reveal the monstrous seven-eyed lamb of global communism that will devour and masticate mankind.

Everyone can see that. So tell me, do you have any questions before we fire up the Big Communism Builder, or do we get *right down to it*?

Wait, first -- what's this *communism* even about?

Roll up your sleeves and start building Communism. (Opt in.)

It's too tiring. I don't have it in me. I'm beat down and broken. (Opt out.)

RHETORIC - Failure. It's about failure.

Failure?

I don't *do* failure.

RHETORIC - Yes! Abject failure. Total, irreversible defeat on all fronts! Absolutely vanquished, beaten, curb-stomped and pissed on -- until *you* came along! *You* will reverse the fortune of the workers of the world.

You alone, against every living thing, against every human alive: eight hundred trillion reál in the hands of an *impossibly* well organized ruling class; towering city blocks of bank-men who have the ears of prime ministers; million-headed armies of nations and the love of your own mother!

You -- against the atom, the charm and the spin. Where the whole world failed -- matter failed to bend to human will; human will failed to get out of bed and tie its laces -- you alone, single-handedly, will rebuild the dreams of the working class. You are The Last Communist.

Now get to work, comrade.

[anicekidlikeme]

All of this communication, but is it really worth jack shit?

Last week was painfully long, this week is off to a crappy start, and Drew pissed me off today. I don't think it's entirely fair to call this a fight, so, I am calling it Vaibhavi's shut-down time. Shut-down periods usually coincide with the shy little feeling that I am being stretched too thin. I am known to hate it.

I'll be honest, life has been so fucking excruciating recently. I have received an influx of opinions these past few days, more than you could think to count, and they all echo in my head in the form of painful, nonstop voices. Do I not fulfill all your expectations? Am I doing enough? Am I a liar? Do I enable bad habits? Am I the problem? I know the answers. There is a girl inside of me and she is so little and so scared but she knows enough to scream, this is all so terribly wrong. I fail her so many times. My therapist tells me to think of my pain as a little baby who lives in the heart. When a baby cries, you don't think to question why, scold her, or point an angry finger. No, it's a baby. All you can do is hold it tenderly.

I must not be very motherly, because I seem to be doing all the steps wrong. I fear I am cold, bitter, too mean. I also fear that everyone else thinks so.

I know it's okay to be hurt and I know it is okay to feel this stabbing one-of-a-kind pain when you are hurt by somebody you love. I know it's all okay, but I can't help feel a little shame for being so angry. It wouldn't be such a big deal on any other day, or maybe it would be. I don't know if this is a product of an especially shitty day or me being an especially shitty person. But right now, my pile of life-shit is starting to run out of room, so I am letting myself think that on a blank slate this would be no biggie. But it was. And it was piled up on top of my life-shit.

For his work, Drew has to spend a lot of time outside. I come with him whenever I can, mostly to watch him work but also to look at the grass before it gets a summer's trim. We were having an evening that was so perfect that I had entirely forgotten the million things that have been worrying me. And then it was 1,000,000 + 1. Why? Over absolutely fucking nothing. He said nothing wrong and he did nothing big. I hate when that happens. The most irritating part about being wrong is knowing post-outburst that all your words were just reactionary forces to your insecurities. Here are mine:

I remember how much I treasured my first real boyfriend after it was all official. It wasn't love, but I really enjoyed his company. I had someone who would say nice things to me when the world was shut down and nobody could go anywhere. It was a pretty sweet gig until the pandemic thing blew over, and I had to date him for reals.

When we started having sex I was terrified that it just wasn't enough. In fact, I was one of those post-sex crybabies the first time. The crying absolutely stops, but the feeling lingers. Have you seen my body? Some days I look at myself and think ugly, ugly, ugly, ugly. It is unbearable. Of course I cried, I couldn't stand feeling so seen. I thought sex will never be good for either of us because I am just so hopelessly terrible-looking. With how it all ended, I am sure we don't have very many kind words to exchange. I ran into this ex a couple times last year, and it felt alarmingly silent. We both happened to be developing film at the same time. I stole a quick look at his pictures, they were much better than mine. We did not speak. The second time was on the bus. This time I waved. No wave back. Mr. perfect-looking-film, if you are reading, that made me a little sad. I was stressed when you made me feel so seen and I was stressed when you didn't see me at all. I have heard many stories about him the past couple years through the grapevine, mostly about dumb college fuck ups. No words are ever useless, so I hope it's worth something that I never believed any of them.

A cousin who I love so dearly asked me the other day how I did and do this. How do I deal with anger towards my body? When do things get better? Should I start working out? I wish I could give her a blueprint. Instead, I told her to ask my boyfriend for a healthy-non-destructive diet and workout plan. I don't know if I did the right thing. How the fuck would I? The disgust I feel towards my body has been able to journey from there to here: a quiet calm place where I don't think about my stretch marks and my small shitty butt all day, but it took a lot of time. I fucking hate when I disrupt that peace for myself, which has been often lately.

I can make myself feel so undesirable with my what-ifs. What if when someone thought of the perfect body they thought of me? What if I was someone's dream girl? What if I was the first pick when you have to think of good examples of sexy sultry perfect women with perfect butts? It would be nice, big whoop.

I have yet to sort that out, so when the pain comes back, I pick her up, whisper shh shh shh in her small beautiful ears, and wait for it to become easy again. My little heart baby's face is often red from all her tears. But life can only be understood backwards: maybe one day I will write about my happiness and realize that my baby is calmy resting.

My other big insecurity is my mouth. A new, long-term stressor was at its peak recently, and I had to go on a different medication to help my brain work it out. The medication makes my teeth rot. I am so resentful of this stressor, but I never dare say the things I want to. I can never be unfiltered about this one part of my life. But they are the worst. I never want to smile anymore, I am scared Drew will notice my rotting teeth and my rotting gums. It's bad enough that he has to deal with this body.

My dearest novelist Dostoevsky maintained the view that being in hell is simply the suffering of being unable to love. If I didn't have Drew, this loathing would surely feel like hell. I want to be the first option, I want to be the example, I want to be desired, and I want to be so beautiful that there is no room for comparison. I wonder sometimes why it is that we hurt each other so much, often with so little intention to do so. If I am holding my crying baby, who is holding me? I wish my pain was a visible, vibrant color that you could see forming on my chest so that I never had to communicate when I needed gentleness. Asking for it makes me feel so full of shit. I think I needed it the day of Vaibhavi shut down time. I should have said so, but I was static set on being okay. Obviously I wasn't.

I hate my voice most of all.

I once had a father. Now I do not. But when I did, my family would fight a lot. My mother, her brothers, my grandma, and him had a tendency to loudly regurgitate their problems over and over and over till the sun was down. Their most prominent problem was the one childlike child they had, and were stuck with. Those fights were mostly just a blur of accusations about my being, how it was a huge mistake. It began when I was 5. She doesn't even know how to do this! And all she does is beg for help with her fucking voice. She's half you after all. I heard this half-you half-me bullshit until I left, it made me feel like I had no good halves to me.

My father made the most horrifying impressions of my voice. Like it was so ugly and shrill that the only way to shake off the physical discomfort of my sound was through mockery. I remember it well. So punctuated, so loud, so painful to hear. Repeating everything I have ever said. Every "Why?" I'd ever uttered, every excited babble, every discovery I made was always turned into an impression when it was wartime. My voice became a constant reminder of their unhappiness. One day my mother choked me because she couldn't stand my voice. I used to collect tea cups. My uncle shattered them all because he was that agitated by my talking. Even as I write about it now, I feel the familiar ache of my heart shriveling up. It hurts. So now, years later, someone repeating my words in a joking tone (even if it is with the sweetest of intent) leaves me shivering and angry. The fear of their mocking, even in its absence, makes me want to shrink into myself. So yes, leaving India wasn't just about distance; it was about escaping the echo chamber of my ugly childhood. It has happened with Drew a few times, and my words come off much sharper than I intended. I said to him this morning, why are you being so mean? stop it.

Am I? No Drew, you never are. You are so bright, and I am so dimly lit sometimes that I don't know how to respond to your awesome boyfriend-ness, so I get frustrated. My mother says to me, सुंदर ही तो प्रेम करता है (only the beautiful find love). I have been feeling so ugly lately Drew. Inside and out. There seem to be so many reminders that what I am is simply not good. None of them come from you, I know that. They shouldn't matter, I know that too. There's just so many of them. So many. I don't understand it. Why this? Why now? Why so much of it? I hear it all in my head, all this screaming. I have been trying to make sense of the recent days with the Socratic method (once again, the ex-philosophy major never escapes me). True wisdom comes from self reflection, but what if my view of the self today is rooted in every minor criticism? Should I keep self-examining? It seems like I am shit out of luck there. Should I try to find out why I have become this green dumping ground? What the motive is behind these stressors? My candid opinion is that these stressors are abusive assholes with great expectations: for people to stay on the path they have paved. It has to be the only one, because it is the one where they are most needed. Often that means letting them be the protagonist while you are stuck being the fuck up. It's a cruel, controlling fuckfest. And it is quite literally killing me. If one more person mentions to Drew how there are so many problems, me being one of them, I fear I might just pull all my hair out.

But there is no pain that love cannot fix, and there has never been a pain Drew hasn't taken away. I know I will feel pretty again, I know things will slow down. I do. To reach the summit, you have to work through all the yucky shit first. And it is so lovely to share a yucky shit-pile with someone who loves you. So maybe I do believe in the infinite connection we share. And maybe this connection is for all humans, a form of practical liberation. I feel more complete now, and I think it's because Drew might be my good half. Life is half me half him now, and he is a great great great half. It is so relieving to have somebody to love. This feels like a very phony way to end, so i'm going to try to conclude every post with a picture now. It might not stick, but it's a start.

[alexlwrites]

𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒌𝒐𝒐𝒌'𝒔 𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Jungkook x Reader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚:  The one where Jungkook, a second year student in the Auror Academy, keeps a journal to vent about his unsuccessful attempts at wooing you. 

✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔: crack, humor, romance, Harry Potter Au

𝑨/𝑵: This is a Harry Potter AU but you don’t have to read Harry Potter to understand it. If you have any questions just let me know!

°•. ✿ .•°

November 4th, 10am

There’s this girl in my antidotes class - Y/N - that I swear to Merlin must have done this fucking class at least twice, because she has the answer to every question on the tip of her tongue. No one even gets the chance to speak before her hand is up in the air waiting to show just how much smarter than all of us she is. And when she gets it right, she gives the professor the brightest, most annoying smile, like he just handed her one million galleons or something. 

I mean, this is an antidotes class, not the Wizard Nobel Prize. She needs to calm down.

Ugh, anyway. Back to what I was saying: There’s this girl in my antidotes class - Y/N - and I kind of want her to have my babies.

November 4th, 12pm

“Dude, you’re drooling” Taehyung says to me in the cafeteria later, when we’re sitting down for lunch “You gotta do something about this Y/N crush, it’s driving all of us insane” 

“Yeah, man” Jimin agrees, but that’s just because he agrees with everything Taehyung says and that’s why they had matching puffskein tattoos on their asses “Either ask her out or let us Obliviate you so you can move on”

See, this is all Taehyung and Jimin’s fault really. Before them, Y/N was really just the girl that I copied the answers off of in Advanced Herbology who I had only ever seen the back of her head. But then they started talking to her- like we even needed a fourth friend! -and before I knew it, she started casually greeting us when she walked into class and I finally got to see her face and BAM! I have chosen our children’s name and Hogwarts Houses (one Gryffindor boy and a Slytherin girl, because Y/N was a Slytherin and she would probably fight me if I tried to get both our kids in Gryffindor and, let’s be honest here, she would win).

Now, I’m not necessarily the most romantic wizard in the world. I don’t think I even qualify in the top five thousand. But, back in my school days, Professor Trelawney had told me I would eventually find the love of my life and  stay with her for the rest of my days. Granted, I was pretty sure that woman was just a crackhead posing as a witch to buy drugs and she also told me I would get electrocuted and die in a month, but still. She got 1 out of 2 and six years later I am in love and terrified of microwaves. 

“I’m gonna ask her out” I defend myself from my nosy friends “I’m just waiting for the right time.” 

The right time would be whenever I could get my hands in some Liquid Luck, but due to that being a highly complicated potion and that my last few attempts of brewing it ended in bleached brows and violent diarrhea, that specific day was looking further and further away.

November 4th, 12:30

One of the things I love the most about Y/N was how kind she was. Was she an annoying know-it-all? Absolutely. Did she also make sure to share her knowledge with the entire class and help everyone out? She sure did.

I still remember when I was failing my Demons and Beasts class and she sat with me for hours and carefully went over the entire subject of the semester with a gentle tone and the patience of a saint. 

Sure, I did still fail the test and had to redo it, but that was not her fault. She was not to be blamed for my inability to listen to her go on about wraiths when her perfume was all over me and her shirt was cut just low enough that I could look down her blouse and catch just the slightest peeks of her bra that would haunt me and cause me to almost fail 2 other classes.

I wished I could gather the courage to tell her that. Not the bra part, the part about her kindness. 

November 4th, 1pm

I take it fucking back. How can she just be nice to everyone?

Like that dude Namjoon. I know he doesn’t need help with his paper on counter-curses because I know he used to tutor that class. He’s just pretending to suck so she would help him and as a person who actually sucked I find that very offensive to my culture. 

He’s sitting next to her all the way across the cafeteria and even I, who probably burned off my retinas with my attempt to brew Felix Felices in my guest bathroom, could tell that he was staring down her blouse. Was he not aware of the unspoken rule that whatever was hiding down there was only for my eyes? Had I not made myself clear enough by… I don’t know, sending positive energies to the universe? Did Trelawney not write our love in the stars?

We are fated, Kim. Meant to be. The only thing you are meant to be is big and clumsy and probably like a model, because you are real jacked and I respect that.

Whatever. I don’t care. I’m sure Y/N will shake him off soon. Maybe slap him. I don’t really have to step in. She can take care of herself.

November 4th, 1:05pm

I jinxed him. 

November 4th, 1:07pm

Namjoon is being taken to the hospital wing. That will teach him a lesson.

 November 4th, 1:10pm

Y/N is going with him. She’s holding his hand.

Bugger. 

November 4th, 1:11pm

He winked at me on his way out. The absolute disrespect, the gall of this dude.

November 4th, 1:12pm

I jinxed him again. Got caught and now I have to help train the freshmen in hand in hand combat. 

Bugger it all to hell.

(Part two>>>)

°•. ✿ .•°

[Permanent taglist: @imknewattis ; @dreamamubarak ; @onlythebest-106 ; @betysotelo18 ; @havetaeminforbreakfast ; @uno7 ]

[flowers-of-io]

Dunno if you read my tags on that recent Light v Dark post yet BUT… I think the idea of Savathûn becoming a Lightbearer as the (current) penultimate example of the Traveler / the Light favouring complexity-change-growth-expansion would be very interesting to you. Of Savathûn literally rejecting simplicity by ridding herself of her worm in favour of choosing complexity / the Light and the Light in turn choosing her. 👀

I'm!!!!! You're SO right about the whole thing but these tags especially smacked me in the face because. ouGH.

I'm terminally sick about the fact that the Light is all about choice. The Winnower says about the Gardener:

That wandering refugee chose to make a stand, spend their power to say: "Here I prove myself right. Here I wager that, given power over physics and the trust of absolute freedom, people will choose to build and protect a gentle kingdom ringed in spears. And not fall to temptation. And not surrender to division. And never yield to the cynicism that says, everyone else is so good that I can afford to be a little evil."

It's all about giving you a gift and letting you choose what to do with it--all by yourself, out of your free will. All this talk about the Traveler choosing Guardians, the Young Wolf being "Traveler's Chosen", and yet you must first choose to be chosen! Light is a reckless gift because the Gardener wagers you will use it well, even (and maybe especially) if you don't remember making the choice to accept it. Nokris says in Arrivals, "Give and be given. Take and be Taken.", and this--this is exactly what is required, only this: devotion that births bravery that births sacrifice--this ultimate offering of giving yourself up for someone else...

And yes, yes, this is exactly why Immaru chose Savathûn!!!!! I'm INSANE over the fact the Traveler showed her the vision of her death--"I saw the end before it happened"--when she was still in the crystal. It knew her so well!!! It knew her nature had always been cunning and insight and--quoting Savathûn herself here--"ignorance keeps, knowledge usurps". Savathûn, who after millennia of serving the Deep had still been wary of the Logic, because she had not found that strict, eternal proof it was right. Savathûn who fed on people's failed guesses about her, who flipped the absolute shit when we dared assume we knew her.

And what the Traveler did was smack the ultimate lesson about trust into her and tell her she would never know!!!! She would never be sure!!!!! If there's an answer, I don't hear it!!!!!!! BECAUSE NOW THE WORLD BEGINS TO FADE!!!!! And it fucks me up so much because then in the Altar of Reflection Savathûn says, "I didn't want to die, you know. I had always wanted to live." One of the first things we learn about her, back when she was Sathona, is her mortifying fear of death. She says about the forst year of sailing with her sisters, "these are the happiest years of my life", and RIGHT AFTER THAT writes: "I want to be a mother not because I want to spawn but because I want a long life. Long enough to make a difference. We have been at sea a year and I am afraid, afraid we will die out here." This is what prompted her to dive, that they were running out of time and she was almost too old to eat the mother jelly. More time. More life.......

AND SHE STILL CHOSE TO GO THROUGH WITH IT. DESPITE NOT BEING SURE. DESPITE RISKING EVERYTHING.

My feelings about Sav outright asking the Traveler to save her, submitting to it, calling herself a supplicant, are a whole 'nother can of worms entirely, but--again--CHOICE.

I love your notion that she gave it all up to have a choice--not only to side with the Light, but also in the broader sense, to be free to make her own fate.

And we should mention too how insane a wager the Traveler was making here. This woman had stalked it for billions of years! This woman who cannot be trusted, who feeds on deceit, who had once stood for everything the Traveler is genuinely afraid of. This had all the right to go so horrendously, spectacularly wrong!!! And to some extent it did, and that's even more insane, because the Traveler did this immense act of trust, and she did an immense act or trust, and then she just went and immediately broke it. Proving the Winnower right, unwittingly as it were.

AND WHAT'S EVEN MORE INSANE is that the Traveler DOESN'T PUNISH HER FOR IT. ALRIGHT? LET THAT SINK IN. She doesn't get laserbeamed to death, the Traveler doesn't remove her Light, Ghost cries about why the Traveler isn't doing anything--even after we free it from the cobwebs! It is still just there, silently watching. And the last thing it does when Sav finally dies is blinding us with a flash of light right as Immaru escapes, so that we won't catch him.

There's this play I had to read in high school, The Undivine Comedy (the one by Z. Krasiński, not the one by T. Barolini), I absolutely hated the story but loved the tropes. I should probably dissect it in a separate post on my main, especially the point it makes regarding the romanticisation of an artist's lifestyle, but that's for another day. But here I wanted to talk about the ending, when Pancras (essentially the epitome of evil) screams, "Galilaee, victis" in all caps and gets laserbeamed to death by the light of God's glory. And I remember being like holy shit when I read that, because I'm always like holy shit when the cornered antagonist realises the Force Of Good was actually right, like when Savathûn (SAVATHÛN, with her plans upon plans!!!) admits she miscalculated. But put in a (roughly) the same situation, in the general orbit of the same trope, Pancras gets obliterated and (dead, vulnerable) Savathûn has her Ghost saved from certain death by the very entity whom trust she has just broken.

Because redemption is not a single grand decision!!! It's a decision. And then it's a decision. And then it's a decision. It's making this choice over and over to build and protect, not to fall to temptation, not to surrender to division. It's not a pact, like with the worms, a single choice you can never back up from. No, there is always a way out, always the choice to stop choosing the Light. THIS is forgiveness!!! THIS is a redemption arc!!! And it's still far from being done, and I'm so here to see it unfold, and I'm in tears.

Anyway. Yeah. I, um, I'm sorry if you expected a more hinged reply to that...