#BUT they'll give me so much grief

[greygilberti]

There's a book I bought from a book fair in middle school called Posion. I don't remember explicitly what the book is about, BUT what I do remember is that in the culture, people could change their name once they reached a certain age.

Now why can't we do that?

When a parent names their child, it is for THE PARENT. Especially if they name that child after a dead relative or parent. That is NOT for the child, and when that person grows up and decides to change it, no one should give them grief. People don't have problems with nicknames, so why should they have problems with name changes?

Another point, too, is surnames. People change surnames and could argue that those are more important for family line stuff, right? So whyyyyy do people have suuuuch a big problem!? Why can't people not freak out over suff that doesn't- in the grand scheme of things- MATTER.

[kevindavidday]

i was re-re-re-reading lessons in cartography by profenity (as one does) and i was hit with such an insane affection for andreil suddenly like i was 16 reading the same two people fall for each other and thinking yeah that sure is love and almost a decade later my thoughts haven't changed at all? cause ykw that™ sure is love

[lionheartedmusings]

once again rotating the qsmp and it's depiction of parenthood in my head and yeno i just... it makes me so deeply emotional it's not even funny? i remember conversations about "mothers and fathers" being the true qsmp theme song and i will die on that hill forever.

the thing that i find so poignant about it is that this was (as far as we know) never meant to be the story they were going to tell — the eggs were meant to come and go, a chapter in a story that would be looked back on fondly but one that was firmly over. and yet, the love. oh, the love.

it's so rare in media that we get such a raw and slow perspective of parenthood from the parents' perspective, to see the bonds forming and solidifying from "a responsibility that scares me" to "i would tear the world apart for you" — going back to vods of the first day of the eggs is wild, because they're filled with novelty and interest, but then time passes and we see love blossom.

we see love through grief too, like fit's voice when ramon lost his first life, or bad's screams when dapper had his nightmare, or the grief that came with trump, juana, and tilin's deaths. the desperation and grief of parents is an uncomfortable thing to witness, but in a medium like the qsmp it allows people to explore stories that are sometimes too heavy or too dark to portray in a less "goofy" medium.

we watched people's focus shift to their children as they embraced parenthood, especially in the face of loss, and we saw them accept truths that aren't pretty: if the eggs are there to manipulate them, okay. if they're a way for the federation to control them? fine. it doesn't matter, they're their children. they won't let go of them, not even if they're ultimately a means to keep them subdued.

the only time we've seen these characters truly lose their shit and rebel properly was when the eggs went missing, and that says so much. they'll almost accept losing their autonomy, but they won't lose their children.

it's been almost a year of the eggs, and they're the center of everything. every event, every game, every day — eggs are always the focus, whether it be in a "we need to protect them" way or a "i wonder what they want to do today" way. it's all about those kids.

meanwhile, we get to see these people be scared shitless, not have answers, be lost and confused half the time and not knowing how to handle every situation — they try their best, but time and time again they fumble and say the wrong thing, and have to apologise and try to do better next time.

it's so fucking beautiful, man. we see a day-to-day experience of parenthood and family (government assigned, found, chosen) that shows and movies can't give us because they're not a daily, breathing, on-the-go medium where we get to follow this one (or multiple bc none of us have lives) character through just... life.

in having this opportunity, we're privy to one of the most honest, human, and poignant depictions of parenthood and maturing that i've ever seen. we get to live this journey with these characters, and i'd bet a lot of money that that's part of why we're all so deeply attached to the eggs too.

long story short, storytelling is so fucking awesome and sometimes the most beautiful stories happen by accident.

[inbabylontheywept]

how did you get married? how did you recover from the minion halloween and be able to look another human in the eyes? i could never i would wilt like a deflated wacky wavy balloon guy dipped in soy sauce then left in the nevadan summer

i think you're underestimating how tough you are. you probably haven't had a day quite as shit as the minion incident yet, and that's great, but the unfortunate thing i'm gonna tell you is that one day you will have a day that's worse. so much worse. one day, you will wake up, and you'll be going about your business, and you get a call only to learn that someone died.

the first time you get that call, it'll probably be a grandparent. and you'll get one or two, three tops more of those, and you'll think you're getting the hang of things, and then it will be your parents. then after that, and i am so sorry to hit you with this, it will be your siblings, or your spouse, or your friends. each round will feel like it killed you, and it won't be until the next that you realized the one before was a warning shot.

any one of those by itself is going to make the minion incident feel like the highschool shit that it was, and each time that happens, you're going to keep on living. you'll have a few weeks to grieve, but when it's done, you'll still have to go to work, and cook your own meals, and clean your own house. you'll still be alive. and maybe that's all you'll be for a while - alive - but you'll find ways to become more than that. you'll be up to your eyes with grief, and your coworker will stop you one day and just give you a hug, and you'll take it, because for once in your life you won’t be too proud to let someone care. or you'll be in your apartment, going to grab your mail, and your neighbor will be out there, and they'll wave to you a little, and maybe you never talked to them before, but you’ll have your chance to talk to them then. and you'll take it, because fuck, nothing makes you realize how much you have left to lose quite like loss.

i got married because the minion incident didn't destroy me. people don't get destroyed that often. if almost every makes it through burying their parents, then almost everyone could also survive showing up to a bootycall in yellow bodypaint and overalls. and yes, it was embarrassing, but the sun rose the next day, and i got up, and i brushed my teeth, and i went to school, and i cried a little at lunch when i told my academic decathlon friends about it, and they told me it wasn't my fault, and i told them that i knew that, it just sucked anyway. and they got it. and then the day after that was easier. and the day after that, easier still. and occasionally bad things happened, but even afterwards, life carried on. eventually, i graduated highschool. i went to college. i kept meeting interesting and kind people. i met my wife, and she was both, and i couldn't help but fall in love with her.

i got a little head start on seeing the way life goes on after a disaster, but not by much. i'm going to live through worse. you're going to live through worse. and every time the world ends, we're gonna wake up the day after, wash off the emotional vomit, and keep moving forward.

[theredcuyo]

Huh

You know those AU/fics where the kids met earlier?, like, Dick is just old enough for Damian to be a baby kind of situation and somehow they all met and get adopted within no time from each other and all that

Well, i think the perfect dynamic for a fic will be this one:

Dick

He wasn't happy at first. At all. He went from a life of a single child to older brother of like 4 or 5 now?? In like, less than a year.

He didn't even have time to adjust to Jason before he found little Tim following him around in patrol. Not time to get around that little stalker child before Jason found a lost girl in need of help who couldn't talk. No time to even get a hold of signs when Talia came to drop a baby on Bruce.

The worst part? While he can't get around it, because he's still dealing with his grief, and anger, and why does it seem like B gets tired of his last child every week, where does that leave me, And why do this kids that i barely know look at me with eyes that say they'll follow me to hell and back-

That's the thing, his new sibblings follow him like newborn duckies, they observe and copy, and do everything he does except to leave him alone. And he's not sure how to feel about it.

He's overwhelmed with all the attention, with how this house that used to be silent has become anything but that.

And also, he can't go up to the chandeliers now. The babys try to follow behind him and he knows that non experienced people shouldn't do that. That also sucks.

Wally is making fun of him. That's one sibbling for every time you complained about not having any, he says.

He gets used to them as time goes on tho, he couldn't imagine a day without Jason coming to his room to tell him an over the top sight into the book he mentioned to have to read for class.

He can't imagine not to see tiny Tim bright up every time they see each other in the hallway.

He even forgets to actually talk sometimes instead of signs because Cass just wants to spend so much time with him and they both practice the signs a lot.

Damian is the weirdest baby ever, but he's the only member in the family who doesn't complain about being hugged for long times, at least not yet, so that's cool.

Jason

He's just happy to be here.

He didn't knew what exactly a family was, and when he found out there was another kid there, he felt a bit more safe, they could team up if it was necessary to protect themselves against the adults.

The closest thing he had to sibblings before where other kids in the streets that helped each other out, the older kids got jobs at convenience stores and sometimes they'll leave out food for them, you had to protect the youngest.

He was happy to have an older brother, and Dick clearly knew what he was doing, so everything was good.

And then he found Tim inside a trash can when he was allowed in a recon mission. He was so, so tiny, like the other kids he had met, and he knew the little thing needed protection from the world. He also had a camera with pictures of B and Robin, and that was probably important.

But whatever, two sibblings instead of none now had to be a jackpot! He did feel bad sometimes about B getting tired of him because of Tim, but, at the same time, he loved that little gremlin so much he could forget about it.

Until he wasn't so sure when Tim found a lost girl wandering around town. (He isn't Even allowed to go out alone, whats wrong with him?) don't take him wrong, Cass is great, she joins them in pranks and in spying on Dick, but she also doesn't let him forget that she's older than him (just a few months damn it!) but it's just-

She's just so much better than him too. She can't read, he has her on that, but that's all. She's stronger than him (she beated his ass in training at least twice now), she's faster, she doesn't cause problems, She's smarter than him for fucks sake.

So, why-

Why would B still want him around with this kind of upgrade?

It's not like he can ask tho, B is been very busy since that lady came to give him a baby. Literally.

And, sure, Damian is a weird ass baby, the only one he's seen that doesn't cry for most things. But he likes the little guy, he just hopes he'll still be here by the time he learns how to walk.

Tim

Tim didn't expect to be caught. He also didn't expect for it to be the new kid who found him, and as if there was anything else to surprise him with, said child auto proclamed himself as his big brother from now on.

He didn't knew if his parents will like that, because the didn't like children, not even him sometimes, but when they came back the next week and the police arrested them for working with black mask and tax evasion they didn't even ask to see him, or tried to when he reached out, so he couldn't ask.

Jason did become his brother tho, when Mr. Wayne adopted him after that, the same Mr. Wayne he knew was Batman. Huh.

Well, anything was better than an empty house, and now Robin was his-

OH GOD ROBIN IS HIS OLDER BROTHER NOW.

FUCK HIS PARENTS. HE LIVES WITH HIS HERO NOW. HE WILL OUT AS MANY CRIMES OF THEM AS NECESSARY.

Tim was overjoyed to know this. Everything was nice, Dick was cool, he didn't talk much with them, but he's Robin, nothing's cooler than that.

And Jason does spend time with him, he loves beating his ass in maro kart.

And then he found Cass when he went out to buy a new camera, he wasn't allowed to go out alone, but it wouldn't be for long, they wouldn't notice surely.

They did notice, but the good thing was that it saved him from taking Cass home on his own.

She's nice too. He never had a sister (or brother too) before, but he likes her, she helps him find hide spots around the manor.

Who he doesn't like a bit is the baby. That Demon spawn.

First he appears out of nowhere. Second, he only seems to cry when someone is talking to Tim.

What is wrong with that thing.

He also follows him around for some reason, and grabs his shirt, but if Tim tries to look at him or hold him he cries. Really, what's wrong with this baby?

Like, sure, Bruce did have him by accident, and so did Tim's parents, but the fact that Damian's did want to keep him around and pay attention to him didn't give him any right to be like this.

It's not like he's better than them, B adopted them all out of a sense of duty.

Cass

Suddenly, communicating is a thing.

If she has something to say it's that she's happy. She got a baby brother, two actually. And a Big brother. And then a very baby brother.

And a Dad that loves her. And a granpa that feeds her anything she wants except for burgers. But dad buys her a burger in the secret if she tells him.

She likes spying on Big brother. She likes learning to read with baby brother big, and to hide with baby brother tiny.

She likes to stare at very baby brother. He stares back.

So everything is good.

She's happy.

Damian

Baby Damian tolerates his family. He let's Dick hug him, and Jason carry him around talking about who knows what until he falls sleep.

And gets into staring contests with Cass.

But the one he really likes is Tim. He likes to have his attention, and he doesn't like when he doesn't have it.

But he also doesn't like to fully have it, he gets overwhelmed.

Basically, baby Damian wants Tim's attention but not too much.

The family also makes a bet on who will make Damian laugh first.

They all lose when it's Tim, even Tim loses because he had all his money on Dick.

Because apparently, his presence comforts him when he misses Talia.

[enkidusbi]

can i read your thesis i wanna know about how mesopotamians kept their loved ones close. i feel like there might be something about roots or foundations or grounding, connecting the family to the home & people to place both physically and metaphorically. gravesites are powerful powerful place connections and im really curious about what we know about a culture whose gravesites and homes were one and the same. i imagine they were pretty comfortable with death

so it's not online yet because i want to publish it first in a journal BUT i can tell you a bit about it. this is gonna be specifically about the old babylonian period (19-15th centuries BCE) because that's what my thesis is on, but with some changes it's pretty much applicable throughout mesopotamian history

so the basic thought behind burial under the houses is that the dead don't cease to part of the family. ancestor cult is an important aspect of mesopotamian culture and domestic religion. the netherworld is not a nice place, it's dark and dusty and all the spirits have for food is dust. but if you feed your ancestors (this is a ritual called the kispum which consists of food offering, libation and the calling of their names. it's a regular ritual that some sources say was done monthly, and others say it was during the yearly festival of the dead in the month of the god dumuzi/tammuz) then they'll have things to eat and drink in the afterlife! and if you are a spirit, the more descendants you have, the more your well-being is ensured! it's a symbiotic relationship. if your ancestors are satisified, they can help you out with things and act as sort of benevolent protective spirits over the household and the family, and also welcome you in the netherworld when you die. but spirits who were not properly buried or aren't given the proper offerings can wander, come back to haunt you and cause harm. if you would like to know more about this, i recommend dina katz's book, the image of the netherworld in the sumerian sources, an amazing read. the point is, the dead are part of the family, they have their metaphorical place in the family structure and a physical place in the home

people in the notes mentioned that moving probably was difficult. and it definitely was. some of the people buried in these houses were in underground tombs, built from burnt clay bricks, and some others were just in graves dug into the earthen floor, all around the houses. now these brick tombs are often found completely empty, no skeletons, nothing. which means that the family took them when they moved away. probably because they were in some way the most important ancestors, maybe the main lineage of the family? this part is not really clear because these bones are missing, they took them, we don't know anything about them. however, in ur, there are two examples of just the skull being buried and i think that means that family moved to this house from somewhere else and brought the skulls of their ancestors along and re-buried them. it's a very rare find though

from an anthropological perspective, the phyisical proximity of the graves in the same place where the living slept, ate, worked, raised children, etc, was a kind of constant reminder. of their shared ancestors, of their shared identitiy as a family and as a larger clan or kinship group. from a psychological point of view, it was a strategy of coping with grief

important to note also, that this was not practiced by every family. there are houses with no graves at all or just one or two graves, certainly not the whole household. this means that most likely there existed also cemeteries, burial grounds outside the cities. to my knowledge, no cemetary like this has been found yet. but it would be insanely interesting to see what they were like and how the people buried there were different from the people buried in the houses at the same time!

in the end, let me give you a quote from the myth of erra and išum (translated by karel van der toorn in the book mesopotamian magic). this is what a man says about his house:

"These are my living quarters, I have personally made them and will have my peace within them, and when fate has carried me off, I will sleep therein."

i said i can't write a poem about this. and i don't have to, because they already did and it's beautiful

[velvetm00light]

Taken

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Chapter Two of Save Me

Previous Chapters: one

Word Count: 3.7k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: You and your team at the BAU come to the disturbing realization that you're the final target of a brutal serial killer. Without any leads, your team determines you need to be the one to draw him out. As you sit alone in your apartment for hours, on edge, you can't help but want your coworker, Spencer, to be there with you. But, is your little crush enough to get you through the upcoming torture?

Warnings: Mentions guns, sexual assault, murder, serial killer, torture, stalking, physical harm, kidnapping, fear. In future parts, will mention vivid torture, PinV, oral, domxsub situations, grief, bondage, physical harm, etc.

A/N: I'm actually enjoying writing this soo much. I hope you all are enjoying reading it! I'm going to write the next chapter in both (y/n) POV and Spencer's POV, so I'll probably post both at the same time!

YOU CAN'T HELP BUT fidget in your seat at the round table as the rest of the team takes their seats and waits for Hotch's word to begin. You couldn't bring yourself to be in the same room as them as they discussed different ways for you to lure him out, unable to listen and play out those possible scenarios out in your head. Spencer at first fought against your wishes for him to discuss with the team, but all you could do was look into his sad eyes with yours and tell him, "I need someone who is going to fight for me. I trust that you will know when enough is enough." He stopped fighting then and did as you requested.

He was the first to arrive back at the round table, immediately taking the seat next to yours, not even hesitating to give you his hand. You took it greedily, needing any kind of human contact to keep your mind grounded, bonus points because it was him.

"Let's get started." Hotch announced, and you noticed that no one would meet your gaze directly as your eyes wandered to your friends around the table. Your heart sank into your stomach and you had a feeling the discussion they had was a hard one. You can't imagine it being easy for your friends to discuss the best way to capture a brutal serial killer by using your life without actually endangering it.

"(Y/), tonight you're going to go home as normal. We have to assume he watches your every move so he cannot know that we're aware of you being his final target. We obviously will not leave you unguarded, Rossi and I will sit down the street from your apartment, Morgan and Reid will sit in the back of the parking lot so they can see anyone who exits and enters. If he's not bold enough to do anything tonight, we will simulate a day of errands for you, each of us posted where you go."

A chill runs down your spine. It's hard to believe you're about to be sent home and expected to act completely normal. To sit in your apartment alone, just waiting for him to try to break down your door or draw you out.

"You'll let me know every hour how you're doing and call Morgan or Reid if you notice anything since they'll be closest. If it makes you feel more comfortable, we can send someone ahead of you to replace your apartment security guard so someone with a little more training is there."

"Yes, please. I think that'll help." You almost whine. The more you sit here, the less you want this conversation to end because you want to avoid going home at absolutely all costs right now. You know you can't push it off forever or else you risk other women's lives. Before the meeting ends, JJ meets your eyes. "I promise you, we will find him."

"We're going to get this sick son of a bitch," Morgan adds. The rest of the team chimes in and you feel grateful to being going through this with a support system by your side. It makes the tight knot in your stomach loosen a little, realizing that you know you're safe with them. You know your entire team would stay up for days on end to catch this guy, and wouldn't allow themselves a moment of relaxation knowing you're unable to sleep or feel safe in your own home.

Hotch sends an agent to your apartment before you to simulate security guards changing shifts. You hope this will be enough, but something deep in your stomach twists anyway.

Before Reid leaves with Morgan to get to your apartment before you, he pulls you into the kitchen - a public place, but with enough cover to make your body heat. The thought of getting caught doing something scandalous sends a shiver up your spine but you quickly chastise yourself. Your life is in danger, now is not the time for fantasies.

"Can I ask you to do something for me?" He asks softly, his face looks battered from stress and you're sure you look the same. "Of course."

"Can you text me too? To let me know you're safe."

"Of course I will." You try to give him your best smile, but it falls flat. His care is warming, but it's hard to feel anything other than absolute fear at the moment.

"You're going to be okay," he promises. He abruptly pulls you into an embrace and you waste no time relaxing into his chest. He smells of almond and lavender. You take a deep breath, trying to memorize the smell of him. Your embrace ends too quickly and he leaves you standing alone in the kitchen.

After a torturous drive home, you pull into the parking lot of your apartment. You quickly scan your surroundings, making sure to wait an extra moment before exiting the car to see if another car pulls in. You spot the car Reid described to you sitting in the corner in the back of the parking lot and you let out a relieved sigh. This whole situation is terrifying and ridiculous all at once. You remember Hotch's words and get out of your car, trying your best to act as if you aren't completely afraid for your life and you're not about to spend the entire night rechecking your door and window locks, making sure all your hidden guns are reachable and in place.

You pass the agent posed as a security guard and trying not to draw attention to yourself as you head down the left hall towards the elevator to your apartment. You would be out of your complete mind to take the stairs in this situation, but you're unsure if an elevator might actually be worse if he were to randomly enter it.

The elevator stops with a jolt and opens on your floor. You take a cautious peak out and check down the hallway left and right before exiting. You quickly make it to your apartment door, looking back to make sure there's no one in the hallway. If you're lucky, he might not know what exact apartment you live in, but then you realize with despair that if he's been watching you for however long, he could have easily seen you enter and exit your apartment multiple times.

You fumble with your keys as you try not to act panicked and open your door. You swiftly enter and lock it immediately behind you, making sure to lock the deadbolt and put the chain on as well. You loose a deep sigh and your eyes widen at the fact that you still might not be safe yet. You didn't even think about the fact that you'd have to check your apartment when you got here to make sure he wasn't already waiting for you.

You quietly pull the gun from the holster on your side and slowly work through your apartment, turning on every light and lamp possible, locking every single window you walk past, checking inside your bedroom closet, the kitchen pantry, the small storage closet just outside your bedroom, and even behind the shower curtain. Once you've decided that there's no possible place for him to hide, you finally feel your muscles relax. You place your gun back in your holster, unable to feel safe without it by your side.

You grab yourself a glass of water and some snacks and decide to stay in the living room. You're able to keep an eye on the door and balcony simultaneously. You don't risk turning the TV on or listening to music to relax you. You need to be at complete high alert until your team catches this son of a bitch.

Time goes by agonizingly slow as you try to keep yourself awake and entertained. A full pot of coffee sits on the counter for you to refill as the night goes on, although you're unsure if you'll even need it. The fear is enough to keep your blood pumping hard through you. You try to play card games with yourself and practice some card tricks Spencer taught you when you first joined the Bureau.

You aren't able to keep your attention on one task for too long, your fear pulling your eyes to scan every inch of the room. You decide to risk sneaking a peak through your balcony curtains. You look out from the side, just barely moving the fabric over so no one would notice a disturbance in the curtains from the outside. After deciding the coast is clear, you recheck the balcony door lock and do a walk through of your apartment once again, checking locks, hiding spots, your gun always close by.

The first hour passes and when your phone buzzes it just about makes you jump completely out of your skin. You reach into your pocket to pull it out and quickly read a text from Hotch, asking for an update. You reply to let him know that everything's normal so far, all possible access points are locked and you've gone through your entire apartment in intense detail.

You remember the promise you made Spencer and text him as well, basically explaining the same thing you told Hotch.

Me: im scared spence

Spencer: I know, that's okay. You're brave, remember?

Me: im trying really hard to be. i can't even turn on the TV or focus on anything long enough without getting worried im going to miss something and he's going to catch me off guard.

Spencer: You're the strongest person I know, don't let him control you. These offenders love control and making you feel helpless.

Me: he is controlling me though. i cant even imagine sleeping, im jumping at every car door being shut, every car horn from the street, every bug at my window. even if we catch him, will the fear ever go away?

The text bubble appears and disappears a few times. You start to wonder if maybe something happened, if they caught someone trying to get into your building when your phone buzzes in your hands.

Spencer: I think we both know the statistics. But, I promise that I will do everything I can do ease the fear and be there for you when it's too much.

You begin to get teary eyed at his promise. Never in your life have you felt cared for or protected. It was always kill or be killed and you fought for your life since you were a child, just trying to survive in a world destined to chew you up and swallow you.

Me: thank you spence. that means more to me than i think you'll ever understand. you mean more to me than you'll ever understand.

You set your phone down on the table next to you, feeling jittery after sending that text. You deleted it and rewrote it about 5 times, but if your life is in danger, why hold back? You also think about how he might try to profile you and believe you're forming an attachment to him due to trauma bonding or transference.

You let out an aggravated sigh and rub your face with your hands. This has complicated your life in just about every way possible and you promise yourself that if you ever get your hands on the man that feels like he can make you cower away, locked in your apartment, you'll make him regret it.

I pick my phone back up and when I see Spencer hasn't replied, I text again.

Me: have you guys seen or learned anything?

Spencer: Not yet. Few people have walked into the building but we're not legally allowed to deny people the right into their homes. You live on the third floor so hopefully that should deter him from your apartment.

Me: hope so. im not sure i could ever come back here and live my life without fear if he chooses here.

Spencer: That's understandable. I don't think he's prepared for his endgame just yet. But I'm also not sure he is disorganized enough to attempt to attack you in broad daylight in a public place like the grocery store.

Me: he abducted those other women in broad daylight in high traffic areas though and no one saw a thing.

Spencer: (Y/n), you're a federal agent. If he has an IQ that's at least half of mine, he would need extra planning. A damn good rouse to lure you away and that's only if he's confident we have no idea you're his target. Don't worry, okay? We will stay here all night for you.

Me: thank you..it helps to know you are here. i don't feel alone in this.

Spencer: You're never alone. Never again, (y/n).

Spencer: As much as I want to keep talking to you to make sure you're safe, I think it's best you focus on your surroundings. Deep breathing exercises actually trick your brain into thinking that you're relaxed and takes your body out of flight or fight.

Me: are those drs orders?

Spencer: Yes, now be a good girl and relax.

Your breath catches in your throat with his last text. It takes you aback at the pure brashness of it, something you weren't sure he was even capable of doing.

You do as commanded and you allow yourself to pull your legs up onto the couch, despite the impracticality of it in the sick chance he breaks into your apartment. You try your hardest to do breathing exercises you found on Google.

You are slightly surprised when your body begins to relax a bit and you feel less at edge. You don't allow yourself to completely let down your guard, but you welcome the slight relaxation of your muscles at least.

Minutes turn to hours and if you didn't have your phone to check the time, you would have thought days were passing by. All you've been able to do is stare at the ceiling when you're not making your routine patrols around your apartment. You feel as if you're starting to get a bit stir crazy.

You check in hourly with Hotch and Spencer, not allowing yourself too much of a distraction. But, as the hours tick by, your eyelids get heavier and heavier. You begin to lower your vigilant wall the tiniest bit. If he wanted to attack here wouldn't he have done so by now?

Me: im so tired.

Spencer: It's okay to sleep. It's highly recommended by every doctor, including me.

Me: alright smart ass. do you think he would've already tried something by now? the suns about to come up and it's been almost 12 hours.

Spencer: Go to bed. None of us are going to sleep so you're safe. You've been through a lot, you deserve some rest, even if it's just an hour.

Me: i guess youre right. ive got all my locks in place anyway and i guess i would probably hear if any glass broke but i dont know how anyone would expect to take an entire grown woman down 3 levels without risking being seen by using the stairs.

Spencer: You don't need to justify sleeping to me. You deserve the rest, no matter what. No justification needed.

Me: Thank you, Spence. ♡

Spencer: ♡

Still a bit weary, you decide to check the balcony and do your patrol once more before you allow yourself to relax. After determining the coast is clear, you decide to finally retire to your bedroom. You unhook your gun holster and lay it on your nightstand, making sure to keep it in reach in case.

You don't even bother changing out of your clothes as you finally climb into bed. You let out a small moan of relief and sleep consumes you almost instantly.

You're taken out of your sleep by a loud thud, confusion overtaking you for a few moments as you blink rapidly around the room, attempting to adjust your eyes to the daylight. You're frozen in fear as your vision clears and there's a gun pointed right to your face.

The man holding the gun is in a regular hoodie and jeans, seemingly normal. You reel your terror back as you hold your hands up in surrender, attempting to make him believe you're willing to do as he pleases in hopes he makes a mistake.

You eye the time on the clock on your nightstand, if you can only distract him for a little bit longer, Hotch will call you when he realizes you aren't replying to his hourly check in and they'll come up here and save your ass.

All your able to do is stare at your attacker and stay completely still. You rack your brain for the best possible thing to say to get him to deescalate or at least lower the gun. "What's your name?"

"My name?" He questions, tilting his head to the side. You thought he might be put back by the question, instead he seems to have gained a confidence your profile suggested he was close to growing into. You suppose he must have had some new found confidence to be able to sneak past multiple undercover agents, and into a room on third floor with all doors and windows locked. He makes no move to lower the gun and no attempt to answer your question.

"How did you get in?" You ask as calmly as possible, hoping he made a mistake that way at least. Maybe your team was already outside, discussing how to play it to where he surrenders. You realize your luck as probably fallen short at the way a wicked smile spreads across his face.

"Do you not want to talk?" You try again. The blog posts he made about you play over in your head. You're hoping he takes the bait.

"Don't you think it's a little late to talk?" The gun stays unwavering in your face.

"What do you mean?"

The smile falls from his face and if you were in a cartoon, you can almost bet smoke would come out of his ears.

"What do I mean? You know what I mean!" He roars, shaking the gun angrily around. You decide to take this as your opportunity now that the gun isn't pointing towards you.

You release your leg from under the covers and kick as hard as you can muster into his abdomen. He reels back and you stumble out of bed and attempt to retrieve the gun on your nightstand when you realize it's no longer there. You spin around in time for his fist to connect with your jaw, knocking you off your feet, your knees barking as they connect with the hardwood.

You sweep out his legs from under him, sending him to the floor along with you. You spot his gun laying on your bedroom floor, right next your dresser, which unfortunately, he is right in front of. Before you can think to hesitate, you're up on your feet and lunging for the gun.

Before you're able to reach it, he grabs you by the collar of your shirt and swings you around and slams you into the wall. The breath clears your lungs and all you can do is fall to the ground on once more.

Blood from somewhere, you assume your face, drips onto the polished floor below you. You attempt to play the defeated victim, hoping it draws him close enough for you to catch him by surprise.

His heavy feet slam against your floorboards until he is right in front of you, gun completely abandoned on the floor. He grips your neck with a strong hand and lifts you to your feet. When he brings your face to his, you spit blood into his eye, causing him to drop you.

You use the few moments you gave yourself to at least make it out of your bedroom, grab a knife or one of your hidden guns, anything to give you the upper hand against a man twice your size and strength.

"Bitch!" He roars, wiping furiously at his eyes as you scramble with the door to your bedroom. You swing it open and lunge towards the closet gun you can think of when you see the open compartment, your gun missing from it.

"You think I don't know every single detail about your life, (y/n)?" He laughs from behind you as you're frozen in the middle of your living room. "I've been waiting for a long time, (y/n). Do you like the presents I left you? I figured I'd show you what I would do to you."

"You have an odd perception of the word present." You deadpan. You scramble to come up with a solution. All your guns are gone, if you run to the kitchen you better hope to hell he doesn't shoot you first or get there before you. "What do you want?"

"You." He smiles, and before you can react he's on you again. As you fight tooth and nail against his raging grasp, you hear your phone begin to ring. You allow hope to bubble in your chest, just a few more minutes, you say to yourself. They'll save me.

When you finally think you have the upper hand on him, he lands a fist to your temple that throws you to the carpet. Your vision spins as you attempt to crawl anywhere but where he is. You feel his laugh in your bones and you can tell he is taking his time taking in his win and the power it gives him. Your sight becomes blurry and you fight as hard as you can against it. But, all you seem to have the strength for is to watch blood spill from your mouth and the wounds on your face, onto the carpet of your living room. You gather enough strength to at least look your attacker in the face and deny him as much of the power he craves as you can. "I'm not afraid of you," you whisper. Your throat feels tight, and it's almost impossible to swallow. You spit blood onto your carpet as you try to relieve the pressure in your throat.

"You should be," is the last thing you hear before you see his boot come down towards your head and the world turns black.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 50

part 1 | part 49 | ao3

cw: angst, canon-typical violence, period-typical homophobia

Steve gets the full story from Jeff later that night.

After Eddie and Wayne come out of the bathroom — after Eddie goes straight to his room and shuts the door without so much as a glance in Steve's direction, after Wayne clears his throat and suggests they all clear out and give the kid a night to cool off — Steve drags himself back to his trailer and paces for a while. Tries not to feel horribly rejected, which is...

It's fucking ridiculous, is what it is.

Stupid to be focusing on his own dumb feelings right now.

Eddie's the one with a pulverized face.

So anyway, Jeff. Steve dials his number, and it feels weird that he even has his number at all — weirder still that, of all the guys in Corroded Coffin, he and Jeff have the most in common. Makes sense, though; Jeff's the only one who likes professional sports even a little.

"Hello?" Jeff's nasal voice comes over the line.

He sounds like his usual self — doesn't sound like he got pummeled, at least. Steve paces a tighter circle, says, "Hey, man, it's Steve."

Jeff makes a clipped noise. "You saw Eddie then?"

Furious heat crawls up the back of Steve��s neck, the image swimming red in his tunneled vision: the welt under Eddie's eye, the blood blooming on his chin. Someone did that to him.

Someone who needs to fucking pay for it.

“Yeah,” he seethes, trying to keep his voice down. “What the hell happened?"

Jeff sighs; launches into the vague version of events that he's allowed to tell — the version with no names and no identifying details, because Eddie made them swear not to tell Steve who was responsible.

"Sorry, man," he says when Steve presses for the third time; sounds like he means it, too. "Eddie seems to think you'd just land yourself in big boy jail if you knew, so…”

Steve clenches his jaw, his fists. Imagines fresh blood against his knuckles, how good it would feel to slam them into someone’s face; has a flashback of Billy Hargrove pinning him to a kitchen floor, laughing maniacally while his world went dull and dim.

…Goddammit. “He’s not wrong.”

So Steve listens, silent and helpless while Jeff tells him as much as he can about the mounting Satanic panic: how the townspeople are still grieving everyone who died last summer, how that grief is turning to paranoia, conspiracies about the destruction of the hospital and the fire at the mall, and now there are all these news articles coming out, whipping churchgoers into a frenzy over the queers and the occult, and the end result of all of it is that Eddie gets his ass beat in the alley behind a shitty dive bar.

All for having the nerve to wear a Black Sabbath shirt in public.

“Eddie said they stole something?” Steve prompts after a short silence.

"His amp,” Jeff says, and Steve sags in relief. At least it wasn’t the Warlock. He can replace an amp no problem. “They stole our fucking tip jar, too. Not there was much in it, man, but still.”

Fuckers, Steve thinks.

"Fuckers," Jeff spits, then sighs, "so much for being Christ-like, or whatever."

Steve chews his lip. Fiddles with his nails, hoping to work out a way to get Jeff to give him names. He only knows one name that comes to mind, but he can’t just go pummeling people on a hunch.

“If you ask me again,” Jeff says, “I’m hanging up.”

Well, damn. He slouches back against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. "The rest of you are alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we're good. We were loading the van when it happened.” Another short, derisive sound. “Of course they waited to corner him when he was alone."

"So they planned this," Steve says, and the name in his head is practically flashing on a marquee. Jason Carver and his lackeys at that party back in November. The back of Jason’s head at the midnight mass they snuck into. Is this freak bothering you?

Steve’s voice is a lethal whisper. "Do you think they'll do it again?"

"Steve—"

“Do,” he repeats, “you think” —Hopper’s ghost in his mouth, authoritative and slow— “they'll do it again?"

Jeff lets out a long breath, his words wobbly with nerves. "I don't know, dude. Probably not? One of them looked pretty freaked out by how messed up Eddie's eye was."

Steve tastes blood in his mouth.

Fucking better have.

Another silence falls, rustling and static sounds, and Jeff hesitates. "Listen, uh..."

"Yeah?"

"Nothing, just... Well. Eddie can get a little, um. A little weird, about people seeing him be, like, vulnerable and shit. So. Just a heads up."

Weird like hiding from his boyfriend? the petty part of Steve’s brain supplies. Weird like shutting his door without saying goodbye?

He tamps down hard on the hurt that bubbles up at the reminder, because—

Because Eddie’s seen him at his most pathetic too many times to count. Has seen him blubbering and soft and desperate for comfort; has offered it so eagerly without judgment or thought. And if Steve can’t do the same now, if Eddie thinks there’s shame to be found in it, then that means— that means…

He swallows the glass shard in his throat. “Thanks for the warning, man. For real.”

—

part 51

holy shit i can’t believe i wrote 50 parts of this

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 1.7k | tags: established relationship, rockstar!eddie, soft boys, Steve takes care of Eddie, Vecna aftermath | @steddielovemonth Love is a warm hug by @unclewaynemunson | AO3)

They made it. They really did it.

Corroded Coffin play in front of thousands of people in a sold-out Madison Square Garden. Every single person seems to know their songs by heart and is singing them back at them loudly. They cheer and scream their names and Eddie feels like he's flying so high he's on his way to the moon.

This moment right now, right here, is what he has been dreaming of ever since Wayne gave him his old acoustic guitar for his fourteenth birthday and showed him how to play his first song. He always knew he'd end up here, deep, deep down. Never lost hope.

Well, that's not exactly true, but nobody knows that but Steve.

Because it was Steve who helped him to find that precious hope again, to rekindle the wild spirit inside him that only wanted to be heard with his music. He had almost lost that gift along with his left nipple.

The bat bites had been bad, of course. Pieces of his flesh were missing, gnarled scars littered his body, even as he decorated it with a plethora of new tattoos. They'll always be there.

But the worst part hadn't been the flesh wounds. It had been the infection. Robin hadn't been so far off in her fears back in the Upside Down, because while neither he nor Steve had gotten rabies, the bat's saliva hadn't been the most sterile substance to get into his wounds, and more than one bite had become infected as a result. The worst one had been on his left forearm and had caused some severe nerve damage.

The doctors had been able to save his arm and most of the feeling in his hand, but relearning how to play the guitar had been excruciating. The pain had been really bad, but even worse was the frustration, the white-hot rage he felt at this cosmic injustice. It wasn't enough that he was basically an orphan (because his father could be dead for all he knew, Eddie hadn't heard from him in years at that point), living in a trailer park and being labeled the town freak who everyone still thought had murdered several people. No, he also had to get mauled by demonic bats in an alternate dimension, nearly die, and fight his way back to his feet only to find out that he couldn't do the one thing that had always given him at least some peace of mind. His ticket out of this hellhole of a town, just gone. Poof.

It had been one of those summer days, so hot and humid that it felt like warm water was filling his lungs and dripping out of every pore of his body. He had been sitting on his bed in just his boxer shorts and a crop top because any clothes were too much, with his guitar on his lap. Eddie had been so focused on getting this one simple tune right for hours now, his fingers raw and aching, his nerves screaming at him to please stop. Only he couldn't.

He couldn't stop, because to stop would be to give up. It would mean accepting this new reality in which Eddie Munson had lost a vital part of himself; his music.

The pain had been almost unbearable for the better part of an hour by now, but it wasn't until his fingers cramped so badly that he couldn't even hold it anymore that he threw his beloved acoustic guitar off his lap and onto the floor with enough force that it was a wonder it didn't break.

"Fuck," he yelled with bitter resignation, rising like bile in his throat and spilling out in the form of hot tears from his burning eyes, and then "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck," a repetitive mantra of pain and sorrow as sobs broke from his aching chest.

He was brought back from the brink of a meltdown by the pressure of a warm hand on his knee, another hand cupping his burning cheek.

"Eddie, hey, man, you're scaring me. Can you look at me, please?" Steve's voice filtered through the anger and grief that constricted his chest, and Eddie lifted his wet eyes to meet Steve's hazel ones. They were bright and warm, even with his eyebrows knitted with worry. They had become close friends over the past few months and Eddie could read his face like an open book.

"That's good, you're doing so good," Steve's voice soothed some of the ragged edges of the broken pieces that had once made up a whole person. His warm hands found Eddie's left hand, still bent into a misshapen claw, and began to massage it gently.

It felt heavenly, even if it still hurt, the gentle but firm pressure slowly loosening the tightly curled digits. Eddie's breathing had slowed, as had his heartbeat, and by the time Steve had finally stopped massaging of Eddie's hand, the sun had begun to set outside.

"Thanks," he had whispered, suddenly ashamed of his outburst, "you didn't have to do that." What he meant was, 'You shouldn't have had to do that. You shouldn't have had to see that.'

Still holding Eddie's hand loosely in his, Steve simply said, "I know. I wanted to. I always want to." The hazel eyes searched and held his again. "You want to tell me what happened? You don't have to, but I have it on good authority that I'm an excellent listener."

That had made him laugh. "That's only because Birdie speaks for both of you when she starts rambling."

"Takes one to know one," Steve had teased back, and the rest of the tension had seeped out of Eddie's body. He had told Steve everything then, about his hand, his fears, his shattered hopes and dreams. Steve hadn't lied, he was a great listener. Attentive and calm, he let Eddie talk without once interrupting.

After Eddie had finished, Steve had been quiet, clearly thinking about what Eddie had told him. After a while of comfortable silence, Steve finally broke it by asking, "Is it possible that you want it too much?"

"Huh?"

"To be able to play the guitar like you used to, I mean. I feel like maybe you want it so much that all the pressure you're putting on yourself is making you so tense and stressed that it's only getting worse."

Eddie wanted to protest, to tell Steve that there was no such thing as wanting too much, but then he stopped himself. Steve had proven himself to be far smarter and more insightful than anyone had ever given him credit for, so instead of denying the possibility outright, he had asked, "What makes you think that?"

Inexplicably, the question had made Steve smile. "When Nancy left me for Jonathan, I was kind of desperate. It sounds silly now, but I thought I needed to find a girl to help me get over it, to prove to myself that I was still attractive, still a catch. Still lovable." The smile had vanished from his face at those words. "I tried so hard, it wasn't even funny anymore, just kind of sad. Robin even had a whole board dedicated to my failures. She told me to just be myself, to let it come to me instead of chasing it like a dog after a bone. It was hard to hear at the time, but you know what? She was right."

Eddie only ever knew the Steve who never had any trouble picking up girls, so it was strange to hear him talk about a time when he clearly didn't.

"So all I'm saying is, maybe take it easy on yourself. Play for the same reasons you started, not because you want to recreate someone you no longer are. None of us is who we were before. None of us ever will be. But you can become someone new. It's up to you who you want to be instead."

After his little speech, Steve had gotten up to get them a couple of beers, and they had just hung out for the rest of the night, the guitar forgotten. It stayed in a corner of his room where Eddie wouldn't see it for a week, until Eddie felt a genuine desire to play something that had been stuck in his head whenever he thought of Steve.

It was the first tune he could get through on his guitar. It was the first song he ever played just for Steve, before he leaned in and caught Steve's lips in a soft kiss for the first time. It became the song he hums whenever Steve wakes up from a nightmare, either while holding Steve in his arms or over the phone when he's on tour.

So it's no surprise that this is the song they play as an encore at Madison fucking Square Garden.

"Hey everybody. This last song is for someone very special to me, so please let's hear it for the love of my fucking life". The crowd goes wild and Eddie winks at the camera that projects his face onto the big screens behind them. "This is for you sweetheart, thank you for always believing in me. You knew I could be someone new long before I did. I wouldn't be here without you and I don't want to be. Nothing makes sense without you. This song is called 'Someone New' and someday I want to play it at our wedding."

He gives it everything he's got, forgetting the last 90 minutes he's been on stage, to make these four minutes the most intense of their whole set. Everyone holds up a tiny flame with their lighters, and when they're done, there's a reverent silence before it breaks into thunderous applause. They cheer, they whistle, they scream.

Eddie doesn't hear any of it, his senses attuned to just one person he's spotted at the edge of the stage exit. He puts down his guitar, walks over to the tall man waiting for him with open arms, and sinks into them as if coming home.

"You did it, baby," Steve whispers into his ear and Eddie just buries himself deeper into his boyfriend's body. "I'm so, so proud of you."

"I love you," he replies simply, the only thing that matters with strong arms wrapped around him, the familiar scent of Steve filling his senses, and the steady beating of Steve's heart against his, the metronome of his new life as sure as ever.

It doesn't matter that they made it, not as much as the man holding him tightly, lovingly.

Eddie's new life is right here in his arms.

[pyroclastic727]

The Marvels is being scathed by critics, and that's a good thing.

I finally saw The Marvels today. I'm a bit late to the party, so all I saw about the movie was the teaser at the end of Ms Marvel, and way too many critical reviews of it.

Now, obviously on Tumblr you find the good reviews, like, the cats outnumbering the white men and how Kamala Khan is, like, basically all of us. But in person, I've had someone tell me that it's bad because Rotten Tomatoes rates it 43%, which-- besides wondering why anyone would listen to Rotten Tomatoes, I'd have to wonder why the website would give it such a low rating. The easy answer is that the Tomatoes review committee is populated by white men, who, upon having no one to relate to, react badly to the movie. But I think there's more to it.

The Marvels is a revolution. Through its character-driven writing and brazen exploration of morality, it rewrites the superhero formula completely, by questioning what exactly it means to be a superhero.

The Marvels was directed by Nia DaCosta, an award-winning Harlem native and creative visionary whose approach to this film was to define these characters as humans, not as superheroes. Her approach to heroism directly addresses that the idea that a hero is not always right. A hero, DaCosta claims, is "someone who's trying their best with the information and tools they have at the time. They'll always get it wrong." Carol Danvers's arc directly addresses this, as the resolution of her subplot involves her re-igniting the sun that she snuffed out. Her heroic act is to undo the damage that she wrought.

When compared to old Marvel, this message just doesn't come through. In WandaVision, Wanda's grief is for a family that was killed by the Avengers. Yet, she is painted as a villain, even as she searches for a happy home, even as she at one point joins the Avengers. The Avengers cannot undo what they did, and don't really try. They defeat the big bad, sacrifice their lives, but nothing brings back Wanda's family. Nothing undoes that war. No one searches for Wanda after the event, to try to help her with her grief, except for Monica, and she's working against orders. Their heroics are militant, but while they excel at destruction, they leave the people they hurt in the dust.

This antiheroic plot of old Marvel is precisely what appealed to so many American audiences. Their protagonists are: a rich corporation, a super-soldier, a privileged teenager, a scientist who makes weapons, an ex-convict, a man born into godlike power, and I'm sure there are others but I don't actually care that much... (these would be iron man, captain america, peter parker spiderman, hulk, antman, thor, and etc). All these archetypes appeal to American ideals that the wealthy would sympathize with. They claim that there are people who are inherently bad and seek the power that they have, in the way that a poor person might want a job that a wealthy person wants their child to secure. They claim that it is their business to save those which cannot save themselves, and use this to get involved in wars that are not theirs, and beat up badguys whose backstory they have no way of knowing-- and they punch before they stop and listen.

They are cops in every sense of the word. The responsibility of the vigilante is to defend against evil, but part of that responsibility is to figure out who exactly is evil and who is in need of help.

The Marvels creates a team that tries to distinguish evil from good, and delves into the grey area between them. The final battle between Carol Danvers and Dar-benn has the superhero pinning the grey-haired antagonist to the ground as she begs for, then demands, that Carol fix what she damaged. Monica urges her to listen. Through this, The Marvels argues that a hero does not always beat up the bad guy and fight against unrelenting evil, but that a hero can be wrong, and that a hero can reconsider. It's kindness in the way that is revolutionary, where it's much easier to choose cruelty.

The fact that the movie is getting torn apart by critics, then, is not just because it is a "girls movie" or it doesn't have a strong white man for the white male viewer to sympathize with. The Marvels cannot appeal to Marvel fans because it rewrites the genre itself. It takes a film series whose purpose was to depict the struggles of cops, of the wealthy, of people with too much power who are trying to learn how to responsibly wield it, but don't. And it gives that power to people who have watched superheroes try and fail, who are slowly learning to be better heroes than the ones before them.

The next generation is a critique of the last, a group trying not to make the mistakes of the chosen ones that came before them, and as such, the movie exists to critique the movies that came before it. Therefore, a viewer of Marvel who would positively review it, due to sympathizing with the previous heroes and enjoying the power fantasy, would dislike it out of its existence being critical and contradictory to the films they like themselves.

The Marvels is not for Marvel fans-- at least, not those who saw the Avengers as purely heroes. Instead, the film reaches out to people who would have been against the old Avengers, who want a story that dismantles the unquestioned idealism of superheroes and writes about people trying to protect their communities and the people they care about.

So, let the critics complain. The MCU is shedding its roots as a pro-cop and pro-colonialism power fantasy, and evolving into an exploration of what it means to be a true hero.

[thelonelyshore-if]

ro + willow reaction to mc who is **so** determined to leave they end up dying?

Delightfully angsty, thank you Nonnie. Here we go--answers below the cut c:

Beck: "What were you thinking." Their voice breaks, their hands trembling. Anger burns until they feel sick with it. They're angry at you--at the fog--at themself. Did they do this? Did their desire to leave push you into this? Beck swallows back a scream. They'll tear this place down with their bare hands, if they have to. They'll burn it down. They're going to avenge you if it kills them.

Croft: "Shit shit shit. You shouldn't have...you should have waited for me. I could have helped. I could have..." Croft shakes their head. They stare at you, so still, so lifeless before them. Something pricks beneath their skin. The want to fix this, but they can't. They reach out...and pull back. They should have been there for you, but they failed. Now...now they need to work even harder to get out. There's nothing here for them, anymore.

Jay: "Oh, no. I'm so sorry." They would cradle you, holding your body close. Crying, leaning down and kissing your forehead (if romanced) or just holding your hand (if not). Jay would feel their heart breaking into a million pieces. Was there something more they could have done? Should they have supported you better...should they have stopped you? The pain of losing you is incredible. They aren't sure they can take it.

Perri: "Hey--you're...you're okay. Right? You're just...hurt. We can. We can fix this. Please, just get up. We'll find a way out. Just come back to me." Perri feels something inside them break. They can't fathom what they're seeing. They didn't understand how badly you needed to leave--didn't take seriously the risks you were willing to take. They didn't get it, and now you're gone. You're gone, and they feel utterly lost.

Ravi: Says nothing. Looks down at you, ice creeping down his spine, coating his skin. He's frozen. His eyes are blank--dead. Empty. It didn't actually take you from him, did it? After everything? He knew how much you wanted to leave. He respected it, even if he didn't understand. But this...this is wrong. You weren't supposed to die. You were supposed to be special. You were special to him.

Yasmin: "Oh, no. I'm so, so sorry." She'd squeeze her eyes shut tight, grief making her feel sick. Tears would fall down her face openly. She would kiss you one last time (if romanced), or give you one last long look (if not). Then she would walk away. Turn her back. She's felt this agony before, the feeling of her heart splitting in two. She can't take it. She'd much rather let herself forget than feel this pain again.

Willow: "No, no, no, no, no. Get up--come on. Don't mess with me. This isn't funny. Please..." Willow's voice pitches high as they fall to their knees. They want to scream and cry, to tear something apart with their bare hands. This is their fault. This is all their fault. Their big sibling is dead. Gone. They should have done something--they should have fixed it. And now...now it feels like they're being torn in two.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Hey lil bro, hope you had a joyful birthday 🎂 and as always, thank you for what you do.

I'm not sure which format would be best, but it's for those M6 who knew MC before. How would they react or behave if MC comes back with cognitive loss compared to how they were before? Like it wouldn't be really noticeable if you hadn't known them before, but it's not insignificant for those who did?

Totally understandable if this isn't something you want to tackle. (This prompt is unfortunately personal for me so pls feel free to seek clarification if you do decide to go with it)

The Arcana HCs: When MC suffers from cognitive loss

~ for headcanon purposes, MC is dealing with short-term cognitive loss post upright ending due to a head injury/new meds/unforeseen but remedial issue. this manifests as poor short term memory, slowed thinking processes, difficulty putting together words, etc ~

Julian

He hates that you just can't seem to catch a break but he's so, so, so very happy that this is a situation that lets him use his strengths for you. Few things make him happier than knowing he's helping

You do quickly realize that much of the reason he's able to cope with your sudden change in functioning is years of "doctor mode"

That said, he'll turn any situation into a bonding moment

Can't remember the word you're looking for? He'll turn into a walking thesaurus and rattle off any and all related vocabulary he can remember (which is quite a bit, with all that reading)

Difficulty processing information? No worries, he can share his own thought process out loud so you have something to follow. You'll get there in your own time

There are moments when he worries that the care he gives you won't be enough to fix it, but he also knows that nothing about your situation changes who you are, or how much he loves you

Overjoyed when he sees you start to recover and makes a point of commemorating every milestone. He knew you could do it!

Asra

It's a mess and they know it's a mess and the main thing they feel is grief that you have to experience loss like this all over again

Being someone who doesn't process grief or sadness easily, he's going to work towards making life beautiful for you again instead. He is nothing if not resilient, adaptable, and hopeful

Even if you stay this way for the rest of your life, they'll still love you unconditionally and savor every day they get to spend with you

And it's that mindset riddled with hope and triggers that puts him on eggshells. He's not pressuring you, he's not afraid of you, but he's terrified of making things worse or making you feel lesser

So very gentle and accommodating about any new needs. You can't piece your sentence together? Take a deep breath, join your hands with theirs, and they'll work it out through your bond

Struggling to remember what you were going to do today? He'll remind you if he knows, and if he doesn't, it'll work itself out

Watching you work your way back to your usual state tells them all over again that holding out hope for your healing is always good

Nadia

Deeply upset about what you're losing and even more angry with herself for why she's bothered about it - your thoughts and words were what drew her in and made her fall for you

But now, both of those things have been compromised, and under the concern that you're missing something core to who you are is the fear that her love won't be strong enough to weather it

And she hates that about herself

Which is why she's not going to burden you with this set of insecurities. Rather, she's determined to see you get better, and she's going to put all her faith in who she knows you to be

In the process she ends up realizing that slower thoughts and cumbered speaking don't change anything about who you are. You're still you, and she loves you unfalteringly

She also gets terrifyingly good at saying what you're thinking before you even realize you're thinking it in conversations

So, so proud of you every step of your recovery. She's still permanently losing her habit of springing trick questions on you

Muriel

Is it still you? Yes. Are you alive? Yes. So what if you need to take extra time to collect your thoughts? His personal record for deciding what to have for dinner spans days

(A/N: this is called procrastination, and going without eating for that long was not good for him and something he needed to stop)

So what if you don't have words for what you're thinking? He doesn't have words either most of the time. It's all good

He's still bothered by it, though, because you're bothered by it. He can tell how frustrated you are with yourself and he hates seeing the way it affects your self-esteem. He'll help however he can

Don't worry about finishing your thought, life in the woods moves at glacial paces. Take as much time as you need to keep going

It's okay if you can't say the words you want to. Gestures work just as well - in fact, it's never too late to learn a little sign

If anything, it's refreshing to see you slow down to his pace

So happy for you as you recover. It makes no difference to his love for you, but you're happier for it and that's what matters

Portia

Oh, she's upset to the point of coming across as angry

Not at you - of course not at you, she knows this is in no way your fault, but between her empathic heart absorbing all of your frustration and grief and her own concern for you, it's ... a lot

The extent to which she's projecting her own feelings of being held back by her situation onto you doesn't help either

Which is why she's not giving up on you. If you reach a point where you'd rather find a way to make life good as is, then she'll make her peace with it. Until then, it's full steam ahead to your recovery

It's still a struggle with her own impatience, though. She finishes half the sentences you start with uncanny accuracy, and then beats herself up for not keeping your space to work through it

She misses being able to toss ideas back and forth and hearing your feedback right away, but she's learning to value it more

Bakes celebratory cakes and sweets every single time you hit a milestone or seem to have clearly improved, and never stops reminding you what a loved and delightful person you are

Lucio

His only personally negative feeling about this is that your communications lag-time gets frustrating when he's got the attention span of a squirrel in autumn. He's trying, okay?

Other than that, you're not that much different to him. You still love him. You're still here, despite the "oopsies". You're still very kissable

What truly bothers him is the dip in your own self-worth. He'd have to be blind to miss the way you deflate or panic a little every time you struggle or fail to do what used to be so easy for you

To him, you're the best. You're his best. That's how you deserve to feel about yourself. And if you aren't, he wants to help you out of it

His encouragement doesn't come from telling you you'll recover or from putting together a meticulous care plan. It comes in the form of jokes and hugs and "don't worry about it, you're still awesome"s

Which, granted, isn't necessarily the best emotional support for when you want to vent or process, but he's not going anywhere

You saved him, so you're stuck with him for life. He's dedicated to you whatever the outcome, and immeasurably proud of you always

[unboundprompts]

Pirate Prompts Inspired by Songs

-> writing prompts from the lyrics of songs that give off pirate vibes. feel free to edit as you see fit.

"You ain't welcome 'round here anymore. You might as well go." - Hell's Comin' with Me by Poor Man's Poison

"Kick him in the head and throw him over." - Drunken Sailor by aeseaes

"Tear this place apart and leave not but a single shred. Tonight we'll be much richer men, tonight they'll all be dead!" - Side Quest by The dread Crew of Oddwood

"So, you want to be immortal with a loaded gun?" - Start a War by Klergy, Valerie Broussard

"He wiped the blood from his face as he slowly came to his knees. He said, 'I'll be back when you least expect it. And hell's coming with me."' - Hell's Comin' with Me by Poor Man's Poison

"I sold my soul to the calling." - Fire by Barns Courtney

"Abandon everything you know, sail with us and we'll show you what it means to be alive" - Abandon Ship by fin

"No second life, no second try." - Side by Side by Storm Seeker

"You line your pockets full of money that you steal from the poor." - Hell's Comin' with Me by Poor Man's Poison

"Dance my dear like the raging seas. Sway my ship until the sun rises. Spin like the wind like there was no tomorrow and the end was near." - Into The Night by Firkin

"Whisper your siren's song to every girl who comes along." - Vixen by Destroy Boys

"So much I have lost and so much I resent." - Only Us by Miracle Of Sound

"They didn't know him by his face, but by the gun around his waist." - Hell's Comin' with Me by Poor Man's Poison

"Pain is what you desire." - Start a War by Klergy, Valerie Broussard

"We've drunk a couple bottles and set our grief aside." - As the World Caves In by Matt Maltese

"Sold my soul to the barrel and the devil set me free." - Into The Night by Firkin

"I am the devil that you forgot." - Hell's Comin' with Me by Poor Man's Poison

"This is our ship, and we're your crew." - Abandon Ship by fin

"Let the sin we swim in drown us." - Only Us by Miracle Of Sound

"You sail among liars." - Start a War by Klergy, Valerie Broussard

"I'm dying to feel again, anything at all. But I feel nothing." - Gold by Imagine Dragons

"I know you're out there in the shadows." - Dear Fellow Traveller by Sea Wolf

"A pirate's life is hard to live, but the treasure will help, no doubt." - Side by Side by Storm Seeker

"Glory and gore go hand in hand." - Glory And Gore by Lorde

"We've got nothing left to lose." - The Captain's Dead by Paddy And The Rats

"Don't ask for me to lie then beg for forgiveness for making you cry." - Human by Rag'nBone Man

"If they think they're better still, I'll bring them to their knees." - Sticks and Stones by Ye Banished Privateers

"We lost a good ship to the depths." - The Voyage of the James Caird by Graeme James

"The rain and sea and storm winds crashed against our ship with wrath." - The Flying Dutchman by The Jolly Rogers

[noahsresources]

HURT / COMFORT STATEMENTS THAT HIT ME RIGHT IN THE FEELS

pardon me please, i'm just having a moment. possible tw for suicidal ideation and references to death and loss. bonus points for specifying a scenario!

from those who are struggling. ❝ i never thought i'd ever make it this far. ❞ ❝ ... when were you going to tell me about this? ❞ ❝ i don't ever want you to die. please ... don't die ... ❞ ❝ we had our whole lives planned out. ❞ ❝ i just can't, it's too much. it's too fucking much. ❞ ❝ losing him/her/them was the cruelest thing i've ever experienced. ❞ ❝ people say things like, 'you're going green with envy', or 'there's smoke coming out of your ears'. you think they'd come up with a statement like that that describes someone who's in constant pain like this ... ? ❞ ❝ sometimes you need to make room for grief. make time for it. embrace it. it's all i've been doing as of late. ❞ ❝ how is it possible to hurt this much when nothing's wrong? ❞ ❝ drowning in sadness is more fulfilling than drowning in pleasure these days. ❞ ❝ it's hard to let go of the fact that i'm probably going to outlive everyone else in my life. ❞ ❝ i've already lost everything near and dear to my heart. everything except for you. ❞ ❝ i'm just so tired. i just want to go to sleep and never wake up again. ❞ ❝ i was so close to giving up once. ❞ ❝ i don't want him/her/them to die alone. i'd never forgive myself. ❞ ❝ please, don't go ... i just need to feel your arms around me ... ❞ ❝ there's a reason why i hide my emotions locked in a metal cage so deep in my heart. it's so i won't get hurt like this again. ❞ ❝ i've always had to deal with these kinds of things alone. i don't need your help. ❞ ❝ it was my fault. i did this to him/her/them ... ❞ ❝ i can't even see my future anymore. i don't want to. ❞ ❝ there's no way i could possibly be this important to you. ❞ ❝ if i lose him/her/them, then there'll be nothing else for me to live for. ❞ ❝ i don't see a point anymore. in going on, i mean. ❞ ❝ time won't slow down. it never does. i had to learn that the hard way early on. ❞ ❝ go away ... please, just go away. ❞

from those offering support. ❝ ... i'm sorry. i'm so, so fucking sorry that you had to lose him/her/them. ❞ ❝ it wasn't your fault. you did everything you could. ❞ ❝ just remember they'll always be in your heart. ❞ ❝ i don't know what to say to make you feel better, but ... i'm here for you, if that means anything. ❞ ❝ believe it or not ... i know how you feel. i've been through this exact same thing. ❞ ❝ he/she/they loved you. he/she/they loved you so much. trust me ... i know. ❞ ❝ you're not alone. i promise you, you're not alone. ❞ ❝ don't worry, i'll stay. i'm not going anywhere. ❞ ❝ you've been through so much ... be kind to yourself. please. ❞ ❝ it's okay to cry. you don't have to hide your emotions around me. ❞ ❝ you don't have to talk to me. hell, you don't even have to look at me. but, please ... give me a sign that you're hearing what i have to say. ❞ ❝ please ... don't tell me that you'd choose to spend eternity up there with him/her/them over an eternity with me ... ❞ ❝ you're grieving. it's an understandable reaction. but you should rest. you've been overexerting yourself far too much lately. ❞ ❝ the man/woman/person who you lost, who loved you ... he/she/they wouldn't want to see you doing this to yourself. ❞ ❝ crying is your body's way of telling you that you've been keeping everything in for way too long. so let it out. you're safe here. ❞ ❝ sadness is like an ocean. sometimes we drown in it, but other times, we're forced to swim in it. ❞ ❝ as long as i'm here, you'll never not have anyone ever again. ❞ ❝ i hope you know that you can talk to me about anything at all. share anything you need to get off your chest. i'm here for you. ❞ ❝ love is often felt the most in your favorite memories. honor him/her/them by remembering all the happiness he/she/they gave you. ❞ ❝ if you don't feel strong right now, then you don't have to be strong. it's okay to be vulnerable, weak, scared, and sad. ❞

[recreationalfanfics]

Can I get a GOD! Reader with Poseidon, Thor, buddha, Loki

Were reader has a lover and one day war breaks out between the gods. And reader's lover is one of the gods that lost their life and the one who killed them is (Poseidon, Thor, Loki).

(My request is based on zhongli and guizhong story)

This wasn't implied to be yandere or not but there is def gonna be some Yandere in Loki's for sure because it's Loki. I'm also not really adding Buddha in this, sorry, but I have a three character limit!

They had always been jealous of your lover, that much was certain. If it wasn't for the war, it could even be labeled as a crime of blind passion (or obsession depending on the god).

"This wasn't what I wanted."

- All Thor wanted...all he could have dreamed of was to be with you, but as he watch your lover turn to dust, as does that dream he had held on too so tightly.

- It probably didn't help that he looked so emotionless and stoic, he couldn't help it. That was how his face was. He felt remorse immediately, wishing he could undo what he had just done instead of having to hear you cry and mourn.

- He can't remember much of the moment but he knew his feelings got the best of him when your lover was the God who challenged him. He had already won your love, won your hand, and Thor simply couldn't let him win that little fight. Not after he had taken all of you and left Thor with nothing but the memories of what could've been.

- That's all they'll be now, memories. You hit him but don't do much damage, he still allows himself to stand there and take it. Take it because he deserves it for putting you through so much pain. Your lover may have been gone but so were his chances with you.

- When you suddenly sob and weakly fall against his chest, he holds you and whispers an apology. He knows it won't fix this but it was the only comfort that he could give you. Truly, he wishes things would have turned out differently.

"What's been done can not be undone."

- He was cruel enough to say that you almost deserved it for not choosing him from the start. Poseidon is a prideful person, despite the fact that he truly held you near and dear to his heart; he wouldn't bother apologizing.

- It won't fix anything, it won't bring your lover back, and he can tell from your eyes that your heart was now filled with hatred and loathing. If you had any feelings for the god of the seas, they were gone now.

- You will not see him beg for forgiveness because he knows it will never be enough. If you loved your partner as passionately and as deeply as he loves you, he also would forever be mad.

- He would still have the audacity to try and convince you to be with him, you know, after killing your lover.

- Even if you don't choose him, at least he knows you won't choose anyone else because as much as it sickened him to say it, your lover was your world. So even if his chances to have you fall in love with him end up zero, it brings him a cold comfort to know that at least you'll feel the same

"He took you from me first!"

- Loki can't even claim he felt a single amount of remorse, not when the moment he saw your lover was open, he took that moment to strike them down. He was brutal and he was quick and they didn't even have time to react.

- It was just payback in Loki's mind. He longed and yearned for you for the longest time and YOUR STUPID LOVER SAW THAT AND TOOK YOU. It was their own fault that they died, if they had just realized you were HIS then they'd be alive.

- Might even laugh at you as your grieving for them. After all, they died so easily at his hand. However he soon gets annoyed because you distance yourself from him, he expected you to at least shout and try to kill him but you just...sulked. And that wasn't any fun.

- He'll try to egg you on to at least get mad at him but you knew it was what he wanted, that it'd only add to his satisfaction, and you were too tired to be angry at him anyways. Your heart still heavy with grief. Loki becomes even more moodier because even after they're dead, they're still stealing you away from him!

- This god feels like he'll die without your attention. Look at him, scream at him, hate him, love him. As long as it's from you, he'll want it all. So when you don't even acknowledge his existence, he will act out like a child. He's too angry to care and you're too heartbroken.

[comicaurora]

I watched Castlevania: Nocturne the otger day and liked it a lot less than you seemed to, so I want to hear a more detailed opinion if you have one. Am I in the wrong to think it was more shounen and less "deep" in some way?

I'd say it's definitely more shounen. Introducing the "Richter can't do magic because unresolved trauma" thing right from the jump meant a Believing In Yourself powerup was pretty much inevitable, but I liked the execution of that scene enough that I didn't mind much.

It doesn't quite have the backbone of the original Castlevania, which was grounded so strongly in Dracula's apocalyptic grief - a motivation the audience is directed to find deeply understandable from minute one - that it gave the characters a solid thematic core to play off of. This let the writing stay pretty tight by letting Trevor serve as a foiling mirror for Dracula in their mutual disgust with the failures of human kindness, Sypha for Lisa in their altruistic use of their knowledge and their vilification for "witchcraft", and Alucard in the middle torn between worlds.

Nocturne is more loose and character-driven, but it still has a core theme - the argument over "the natural order" and how that plays into a fear of change from those currently on top. However, Richter doesn't really have a horse in that race, since his motivation starts and ends at Kill Vampires while everyone around him is more complex, trying to overthrow the aristocracy and free the enslaved and such. I think this makes Richter feel a little less important than Trevor was, narratively, because he sort of stands apart from the core philosophical debate at play. It took me a few episodes to get what his deal was and start caring about his self-actualization, and I think he's definitely got further to go. Possibly Alucard's presence in season 2 will give him more to play off of.

I think Nocturne has several independently interesting villains instead of one really good villain, which is a complaint I also saw about Castlevania season 4 - I liked Death just fine, but he really didn't work for everyone, and the secondary villains like Saint Germaine were much more interesting and complex. Nocturne does, however, pull off something Castlevania didn't as much, which is most of the characters acting on their own internal consistent motivation without cleanly falling into the "good guy" or "bad guy" box, causing them to slide into and out of conflicts and alliances depending on the circumstances.

I feel like Bathory is kind of a weak core villain with almost no human-level motivations or ideas beyond General Villainy, and the extent of her development being a darkest hour shonen villain powerup/frieza transformation doesn't help much, which is why I'm kind of holding out hope that they just bite the bullet and bring back Dracula. He's the nemesis from the Castlevania games, and while they gave him and Lisa a happy ending in Castlevania season 4, I don't think they need to keep him on the bench forever. It's been 300 years, Lisa is almost certainly long dead again and Dracula doesn't need to be full Mad With Vengeance Burn Down The World to still be a credible problem in need of a little Belmonting.

I had fun with season 1 of Nocturne with the understanding that the first four-episode "season" of Castlevania wasn't representative of the final shape of the story either. Sypha's character, for instance, was very flat before she and the gang went on their season 2 bonding adventure, not much more than some banter and infodumps. I think Nocturne did solid setup of the cast and the theme they'll be unpacking, and it has lots of room to explore these characters in interesting ways once they energy-ball-tennis Bathory out of the way first.