#I’ll keep y’all updated on her trauma as we go

[jageshemashftw]

So… I’m actually rewatching RWBY from the beginning with my Mom because she actually wanted to get into it after hearing me talk about it so much.

We’re a couple episodes into Volume 2 and she’s legitimately actually loving it! She loves the characters, loves the world, she loves the whole fairy tale angle. (It’s actually become kind of a game for us to have her try and guess each character’s inspiration)

I already told her I planned on recording her reaction to Volume 3, and…..

Oh my good golly God, I cannot wait to subject her to Volume 9.

You guys, I am going to make my Mom cry so hard.

[bibluebutterfly]

(Edited January 21, 2024. This got a bit outdated so I'm fixing it to keep the main point.)

Since Hazbin Hotel is coming nearer I feel like I should give a heads up:

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: NOBODY IN HAZBIN HOTEL WILL BE A GOOD PERSON EXCEPT FOR CHARLIE AND MAYBE Vaggie.

Alastor is a sadistic blood thirsty cannibalistic serial killer.

Angel Dust is a selfish druggie murderer who gets into gang violence for funsies, and sexually harasses people to cope with his own trauma.

Nifty is almost DEFINITELY a crazy killer when it comes down to it.

Husk is a dead beat drunk who cares for almost nothing.

We already know about Val’s deal. (Even his most prominent fans want to see this man SUFFER, so that says enough.)

Vox enables him, participates in the abuse to SOME degree, and has DEFINITELY screwed a ton of people over to get where he is now. (Getting real tired of the poor baby Vox allegations.)

Not much on Vel but she’s part of the Vees so she’s basically guaranteed to be a bitch. (Updated: Yeah she's definitely a bitch. But I love her.)

Yes. Some of them may be able to be redeemed but they all got in Hell for a REASON. And it wasn’t by being the uwu babies that some of y’all truly believe they are.

These characters are going to be entertaining, but they will also be awful. At least for the start of the series.

You may love them as these poor victims who were screwed over by life, but they’re ALL adults who made their choices and are now living with the consequences.

So just be ready for that when the show comes out, and they have their downright asshole moments or (in the Vees case) just turn out to be plain evil.

[romanarose]

"If I'm Being Honest"

Lie #2: "Your Hair is Stupid"

Alpha!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

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Summary: You meet more of the residents of the x-mansion

Warnings: Currently nothing? Will update as I go, but everyone's canon trauma is liable to be discussed.

2.0k words

Reblogs are the only way to really spread works here, tumblr does not have an algorithm. Every single like is loved and appreciated, comments mean the whole world and keep me writing, but reblogs are how we share on here and create community.

Support artists, reblog works.

Multiple alternating POVs

graphics by the amazing @sister-lucifer !!! nothing but w's with these dividers!

Lie #2: Your hair is stupid.

5 minutes later, Jean and Scott had given you their spiel. The X-men, introductions, other mutants, etc. Great. Wonderful. Unfortunately for them, you just wanted to leave.

“You’re concussed.” Jean explains. “Moderate concussion, you were unconscious for a while. I think it’s best you stay for a few days. You’re more than welcome here, we have everything you-”

“Are you keeping me here?!” Alarm pricked up the hair on your body. If they were trying to keep you, they’d be in for a rude awakening. But Scott surprised you.

“No, not at all.”

“Good, because I’ll walk all the way to town, I don’t care.”

“I don’t doubt you would.” Scott chuckled, and you glared at him. It had an air of condecension you could not fucking stand. “But if you really want to leave, we’ll drive you into town, wherever you’re staying, although… I doubt the roadside motel would miss you too much.”

Logan smacked the back of Scotts head. “He’s being a dick. He gets like that when he’s sleepy. Like a 5–year-old.”

You consider their offer. “Well, do have a motel for the night. After that, it’s just me and my bike.”

Jean’s eyes were begging. “I really don’t want to send you off to ride a motorbike. All I’ll be thinking about for a week is if your head took another hit. We can send people in the morning to get your things and your bike. Really, we’d love for you to stay. There’s always so much to learn from other mutants.

Thinking hard on it for a moment, you didn’t think it would be too bad an idea to stay for a week or something… save you a few nights motels, and maybe the place has a halfway decent bed.

“Fine, but I’m going with y’all to get my shit from the hotel. You,” You point to Logan. “Are not touching my shit, panty sniffer.”

You waltz out the door of the med room. Only stopping when you realize you don’t actually know where you’re going.

*

Logan watched you leave, trying to NOT watch your ass, but he was only a man.

“Panty sniffer, huh?”

Logan rolled his eyes, turning back to the couple. “Shut up, Scott.”

Jean sighs and rolls her eyes, beginning to close up her equipment. “You two need to do better at welcoming new guests.”

“Me?!” Both answered in unison, nearly identical offense.

“Yes, both of you!” She points to Logan. “You scare people. And you.” She points to Scott. “Got in a pissing match with Logan your first conversation.”

“He started it.”

“Children! Both of you are children!” She took his hand, about to head back to bed when you opened the door.

“Hey I uhhhhh realized I dunno where my bed is.”

*

Jean walked you to your room, her nightgown fluttering around her. Fucking hell, she was a sight. Tall and hell (6 foot maybe?), beautiful red hair and bright green eyes. “Bathroom is down the hall. Fair warning, don’t go in after Remy. I don’t know how he looks like that when he eats like he does, but even his healing factor does not keep up with his IBS.”

“Oh great, I share a bathroom? I always wanted to go to college.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is the free room and board and medical care not enough?”

“I literally did not ask to be here, or for the attitude but okay.”

You heard her sigh, stopping at a door. “It’s a good thing you rejected Logan. I could not take the two of you together. This will be yours. If you need anything,” She pointed to the door across from you. “Remy and Marie are your best bet. To their right is Hank, but he’s rarely here, usually in his lab, but very nice if he is home. Next to you is Morph. They’re uhhhhh. They’re something. Anyway, drawers are stocked up, we get a lot of surprise guests. Tooth brush, clothes, all that. I put some snacks in the top right drawer if you’re hungry.” Jean yawned. “Anything else you need?”

You say no, mumbling a small thanks and get acquainted with the space. It was nice, spacious, a lot like a studio with a small kitchen and even a table, couch, and tv in addition to the bed. Who the hell is bankrolling this place? And what the fuck is it? It wasn’t unheard of for mutants to band together in little groups, but you often found yourself on the outs. 

For whatever reason, mutants were way more likely to be alphas and omegas, something crazy like 98% of mutants were. You, on the other hand, were a beta, which no one seemed to really have interest in. In the human world, beta’s were 75% of the population, so no one cared. To the mutants, you were lesser. How strange it is to be a minority group and STILL find reasons to discriminate within your own group. Typical.

You’d been on your own since your early teens when your mutation manifested, but you found when the secondary sex characteristic never showed no one really wanted you. On the outside of the humans, on the outside of the mutants. Great.

The people here seemed nice, but you were certain they wouldn’t want you to stay longer than needed to heal if they knew you were a beta. Oh well, not like you wanted to stay anyway. Vagabond lifestyle was working for you. Sure, you were hungry and stressed and sometimes scared, but you got by.

Still, crawling into a nice warm bed with a full stomach from the snacks and feeling really truly scrubbed down and clean…. You had to admit it was nice.

*

“But why do I have to get her? Can’t you?”

“I’m cooking.” Jean was baking a quiche. God, what a woman.

“Why can’t Scott?”

“I’m supervising.”

“And Kurt?”

They turn to Kurt, laying on the count where Scott is scratching between his ears as the older man sips coffee.

“He’s soooooooo comfy Logan. Look at him. Don’t make him get up.”

Kurt looked at him with big yellow eyes and pouty lip. Logan grumbled and went to find you.

When you open the door, your blue hue is gone. You looked… normal.

He scoffs, leaning against the doorframe. “Coward.”

“Oh, you don’t like this?” You gesture to yourself. “It was good enough to try and sleep with last night.”

Logan laughs at that. “Honey I’ll be real, that doesn’t take much for me.”

“A man of standards, I see.” You glance up to the top of his head. “Except in your hair.”

Logan tries not to seem offended, but his hand involuntarily went to where it stuck up.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” It was too early for this.

“Oh nothing!” You laugh. “You just look like a gamer girl with kitten ear headphones ready to sell her bathwater is all.”

“Say the chick with blue hair.” But he couldn’t get it out confidently enough. “C’mon, breakfast is almost ready. Jean’s a helluva cook.” He was already walking down the hall as you scurry after him. He threw a look back at you. “You can go back to the blue. Your the third all blue mutant we got here, and that’s not even counting the whole mystique business.”

“Oh, did you try to sleep with her too?”

“Well, yes, but also no.”

“Hm.”

*

The food DID smell good. And Logan was right, there was what looked like a giant blue cat on the counter. When you walked in and the conversation stopped, the creature sat up and oh, that’s not a cat, but a catholic? A crucifix hung from his neck, and a cross earring. 

Scott approached you as Logan left your side, hovering over Jean’s baked dish. “How did you sleep?” He handed you a coffee and you took it. 

“Fine, I guess.” You sleep fully through the night for the first time in months, but he didn’t need to know that. Bastard still smirked.

“Good. Let me introduce you to a few other teachers here. This is Kurt.” The blue mutant waved at you, flashing a friendly smile before teleporting right in front of you.

“It eez so nice to meet you!” He took your hand, shaking eagerly until you pulled away. “Logam tells me you are blue too? Ah! What a trio we shall make! Soon, we shall out number the none blue here and take over!”

“Whoa there, Elf, planning a mutiny, are we?”

Kurt teleported in a poof of smoke right in front of him, pinching the gruff man’s cheeks “Look at me. I am your captain now.”

Scott continued. “That’s Warren, Bobby, and Kitty over there. Jean-Paul is stuffing his face with Trix cereal instead of waiting for an actual meal, and my brother, Alex, is the one putting an empty milk carton back in the fridge.”

“How the hell do you see so well with that stupid fucking visor! You weren’t even looking!”

“I fucking know you! Am I wrong?”

When the fridge door shuts and the sound of a milk cartoon swishing in the trash his his eyes, Scott smiles. You wonder what it’s like to be this correct all the time.

“Ah, and here come our love birds.”

Giggling fills the air as the prettiest woman you’ve ever seen enters the room. Big, bouncing curls and bouncing tits, followed at the hell by a grinning man who gave her as a smack before telling her to sit down. 

“I’ll get you a plate, mon ami.”

Cajun or french, you couldn’t quite tell from the one sentence. When he finally seems to notice you after staring far too long and too obviously at the woman’s ass, he flashes a bright smile. His eyes are black pools with red in the iris. Striking.

“Oh hello there, cherie, and just what pleasurable events have made us fortunate enough to be in your presence?”

Logan hollers from where Kurt and him sit on the counter. “Your girl is two feet away, cajun!”

“That she is, and she’s wondering the same thing.”

You peak around the cajun, seeing the woman give you a warm smile and wave. “Sorry about my beau, sug. Ahm Marie, that’s my husband Remy. He’s just like that, hope he don’t make yuh uncomfortable.”

“Trust me, ‘sug’, if he made me  uncomfortable, he’d be knocked out on the floor right now.”

She giggled. “That wouldn’t help things ahm ‘fraid. He’d like that.”

Scott groaned. “Every day, I learn things about you people.”

You can hear Logan laugh in the back of the kitchen. And damn if Jean’s food isn’t amazing.

*

For some unknown, godforsaken reason, you ended up sat next to Logan. Again. The quiche was incredible, and you want

Kurt called your name. “Vill you be teaching here this fall?” And you would have laughed at the prospect and him if he wasn’t so adorably sincere.

“No, just until Jean clears me of this concussion, then I’m on my way.”

His shoulders drop and you almost feel bad. “Ah, I see, vell, I look forward to getting to know you, short time as it may be.”

He sounded like he meant it. You wouldn’t mind spending some time with the strange guy with a German accent. You bet he had fun stories, as did you.

You shovel another piece into your mouth. Fuck, you were starving, you hadn’t had a proper meal in ages. You don’t miss how Jean, seated to your left, subtly served up another large piece of the baked dish onto your plate. She was so smooth with it, it didn’t seem anyone noticed. Maybe they were too polite to look or mention it, or maybe they’d seen enough starving mutants pass through to know to just let them eat.

You keep talking to the young man. “I’m not hardly qualified to teach anything anyway.”

Remy nudged his fork at the ball of hair next to you. “Logan doesn’t remember like 150 years of his life and they still let him teach history for some reason.”

Logan catapulted a sausage chunk right onto Remy’s face.

here chapter 2!!! I have so much fun writing this lolol its nice to have something so much more... lighthearted?

also just assume everyone is bisexual its easier that way haha. Also other ships might come up, as well as sexual activity not between logan and reader. We're going with the flow!

please let me know your thoughts!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @miraclesabound

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ i thought about this plot over and over, and I hesitated publishing it since i don’t want to deviate so much from everything but i said fuck it, so now ere i am, greeting y’all with ‘wassup villain’

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker @depresssedcowboy @shuna-boin

⚠️ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⚠️ Mommy issues, mention of death,, profane language, plot progression. Pronouns keep shifting bc Miles thinks you’re a guy. A bit confusing? Anyways, congrats with your debut. I’ve got uh.. A little surprise? Enjoy.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

"Park behind the building B, McLaren. I’ll have to deal with a separate matter, for now, call backup."

"Yes, miss."

Ring. Ring.

Your head pivots at the sound of your phone’s ringing, eagerly answering the call without having to look into the ID, knowing a thing or two about a certain someone’s timing.

“What’s going on so early in the morning?” Your father haggardly asks. You could already smell the stench of his morning breath from the car.

“We have trespassers in the Warehouse.” You start. “Two of them, partners. The duo we know as the Prowlers.”

“What?” You hear the morning grogginess laced in his voice. “Who leaked the information?”

“I’ve updated Morrison and he’s currently investigating the black market. I suspect a traitor.”

“Evidence?”

“There’d been no reports of outsiders entering the vicinity. All employees have been given fake addresses and all of their gadgets have been monitored— and so far, no one’s been flagged, so my guess is.. A higher up who’s sold us out.”

There you go.

“… I’ll look into it.” Your father mumbles. “Make sure that nothing is released into the media. The election is coming soon, we don’t want to do anything that’ll stir the public.”

“Understood.”

And the call ends just like that.

You blankly look at the road ahead of you, skin itching from the tightness and texture of your leather coat. Laid before your lap was a flat screen, in it were nine boxes— each playing a variety of scenes brought to you by the hidden cameras. Across every box, two swift figures maneuvered past the rooms with incredible ease. Several workers and scientists were sprawled across the jagged floors, motionless like corpses. You grimaced at the possibility of them being dead, but after seeing the thick gas emanating throughout every crevice of the building, you safely assumed that they were simply knocked out.

The Warehouse housed one of your father's investments; an Oscorp-Alchemax experiment funded by the elites, done underground and tested on prisoners to find some sort of super serum. When the new money folks thrusted themselves into the world of High society, most of the higher elites came to applaud the idea of one man.

Harry Osborn.

As a kid, you grew up aspiring to be like Harry. Always so friendly and approachable to anyone and everyone he’s ever met.

He did it so effortlessly that you recognized his niceness as a talent.

Harry came from second generation money— hailing this scientific empire called Oscorp. Having been brought up by his father, Norman, who was an industrialist, Harry was all things sciencey.

After his father's death, Harry sought out a blueprint of his father's past works, finding a journal containing the records of several hypotheses in regard to a variety of drugs. A sort of instruction to turn into a superhuman being, he claims, that his father had put into mind but never really practiced.

A handful of the higher-ups adored the impressionable idea, one of its primary investors being your father. You never really understood his reasons, but when the drug seemingly began showing fruitful results, your father set you up under Antonne's name to supervise Warehouse 317 after Harry entrusted your family to house the experiment.

So at that moment, you weren't you.

And Miles wasn't Miles.

He didn’t know what he was doing here. But he never bothered to really ask since his Uncle seemed tense all throughout the journey.

When Aaron told him to strap up for a sudden mission, he wasn't expecting a raid— nor was he expecting him to bring him to a hidden laboratory containing all these alien-like fuckeries. From glass beakers to drums filled to the brim with some sort of neon liquid, it all varied in levels of strangeness. Everywhere he looked, he could find the same circular, yellow warning sticker staring right back at him. Behind his digital mask, he skims past the unconscious workers— checking every crevice to see if anyone had escaped the incapacitating agent.

“According to the drive, the stuff are located in the north building.” His uncle’s voice snaps him out of the haze. “I’ll be heading there. I’m sure you can fend for yourself?”

“F’course I can,” Miles answered. “I can knock a bitch or two out with these.” He grinned while unfoldding his claw.

“You kiss your mama with that mouth? Watch yo tongue.”

“Yes, sir.”

Aaron pats his shoulder. “Record the evidence, I’ll go find the blueprints.”

With a single nod, Miles sets off with his mission in mind. When the holographic interface materializes from his wrist-mounted control panel, he activates the scanner with a light tap. The digitalized purple light cascades over the room, gathering physical data with each passing step.

He prided in his cut-edge tech— developed into great usage by his and his uncle’s hands. In a way, it reassured him that he had epically great potential, despite the current crisis going on in the city. But of course, his greatest pride was the fact that you liked the idea of the Prowler. That alone harbored him confidence he never knew he had.

Miles never initially thought of himself as a hero, no matter how much he’s worked to save the lower class of New York. Heroes existed in the confines of comic books and kids’ TV shows. He wasn’t super, and he wasn’t a hero either. The term was black and white. Narcissistic, as you would put it.

But he liked playing along to the idea of being a superhero to you.

He wanted you to gawk and admire his vigilante identity. He wanted you to look at the TV early in the morning with a mug of coffee in your hands, pointing at the screen with a squeal, ‘It’s the Prowler!’

Most of all, he wanted you to know about it eventually.

When he passes by the computers, Miles heads straight for the manila folders, unraveling his gauntlet just to grasp the files better.

[ 11 | 10 | 2020 ]

•[𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝: #𝟷𝟷𝟹𝟸] 𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝟻𝟼

𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎. 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚡𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗.

𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝. 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.

With the slightest jolt of his palm, the paper crumbles, and behind it sat another file. He peers through it diligently, only to find a name signed at the bottom.

And it crumples from the clamp of his fist.

Anthony Primo-Chávez.

The surname, Primo-Chávez, was the household name of the family who owns the Primm Hotel, and a single mention of it alone only reignited the anger he was sparing for the upcoming plans. All of the rage he kept to himself was seeping out the cracks of his still-grieving heart, and the grief remained a permanent scar.

And with a whisper of the wind, the warehouse falls into darkness.

There was this chill crawling up his back, and it haunted him. And in the silence that surrounded him, he calls out for his uncle.

And it echoes, and echoes. No one replies. Only the silence answered to his desperate calls. At that point, all that he could hear was the sound of his own heart beating out of his chest— a sort of morbid reminder that he was still alive. It made him wonder if that was all his father heard when he was trapped beneath the fallen carcass all those years ago. Just like that carcass, in the midst of all that darkness, screams begin to bellow.

Oh. One of the scientists have woken up.

But all Miles could picture was all what could’ve happened that night, when everything fell apart. Did they scream like this? Call out for help like this? Did his father struggle to breathe like this?

A lone light shines above the metal rails— a watch window, large and square, gleaming in this daunt violent that flickered and flickered. There was a figure there, dark, willowy, and invasive in the way it stared.

Unmoving, watching. A gaze that lingered like the chill running down his back.

What did they do in here?

Like a croak, the question bubbles up his throat and releases.

“Who are you?”

Like a growl, the voice changer emits the query a too many tones lower. At that question, the being tilts its head.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Velvety, low, exhausted— and it oozed from the broadcaster mic like a tease. You stared at the Prowler, almost amused by his size. From above, he seemed much tinier, like less of a threat. You feel your breath cascade against the lenses of your gas mask, sweat sticking to the leather of your gloves. There, you see the digitalized magenta and the gleam of his steel claws, as though he meant to intimidate. You stood partially befuddled at the fact that the vigilante everyone revered and loathed was likely a teenager.

“… You don’t know what this place is, don’t you?”

Ｂ　Ｏ　Ｏ　Ｍ.

The wall beside him crumbles into dust.

Miles shields himself from the impact, the cement’s fumes blinding his sights. Upon the activation of his night vision, he searches in behind the violet screen, finding only his uncle emerging from the smoke and debris, rushing with a USB in his hands. Behind him, a flock of guards came rushing in with their ray guns— flames of red bursting into a shower as the man signaled him to run.

Miles casts a quick glance at the window above.

No one’s there.

“ＥＶＡＣＵＡＴＥ ＡＬＬ ＥＭＰＬＯＹＥＥＳ

ＩＭ ＭＥＤＩＡＴＥＬＹ. ＩＭ ＭＥＤＩＡＴＥＬＹ.”

The digital voice commands along with a blaring alarm.

The warehouse that housed this elaborate labyrinth, it continued on and on like a maze. Bland green tiles and white walls, glass screens— like a pattern he immediately grew to dislike. It all went on and on like a fever dream, but Miles’ head was ringing with the sight of the man he saw up the window.

And he lays it all out in his mind, trying to piece it altogether.

Ｂ　Ｏ　Ｏ　Ｍ．

The walls click and collapse, and the floors shake, but Miles doesn’t look back. The sound of the guards’ heavy stomps cease though, eventually replaced with a sort of screech that irked his ears.

It was unfamiliar to him. He’s faced over a hundred bad people, but only the sight of that being unsettled him more than the rest.

“Up ahead!”

He watches as his Uncle heads right out the window with a fall, the shards ricocheting behind him like specs of snow as he throws a carabiner right back at Miles to snatch. His fingers thinly reach for the cord when he’s suddenly assaulted to the ground with a powerful force.

Ｃ　Ｒ　Ａ　Ｓ　Ｈ.

“Agh!” He grumbles in pain, rolling down to the ground. But even then, it wasn’t the pain that made every hair on his limb stand, it was the sound of your heeled boots clicking against the tiles, and the sound of your metal blade scraping against the wall.

“Mornin’, Prowler.”

Exhaustion made the delivery deeper. He senses it in you, and you sense it him. Though he was unaware of what your head was actually filled of, I’ve got a lecture at nine, I still have to do my literature essay, and I want to sleep. Miles wasn’t all that interested at all in what your mind bore. To be fair, from where he was, Miles only saw this figure towering over him with a long knife poking out its sleeve. Some gas mask, and a black leather coat. Even then as you stood above him, he could only watch as you fixed your gloves, pulling farther beneath your sleeve.

“It’s an honor to meet you like this.”

Fwip. With a crisp cut, the cord that connected him to his partner was severed. You throw it out the window along with the metal piece. “I’m not so usually cruel, but you’re trespassing my family’s property—“

“So this is your family’s property.” He stands back up, hands aching to fight. “Primo-Chávez. As I recognized.”

He claws at you, but instead, the metal meets the end of your unsheathed blade with a clink!

“You’re smart.” And when you pull away, he stumbles backward. “Let’s see if that’ll save you.”

Crack! The walls quivered as Miles narrowly avoided the blade aimed for his neck. He raises his gauntlets, lunging right at you with swift punches, to which you countered gracefully with quick blocks. Eventually, he manages to take hold of your shoulders, shoving you back with feet tangled like knots. You lower down and hook your heel over his ankle, pulling with force as he falters.

You crack your neck, pressing your heel over his shoulder to keep him down. “I’ll be honest with you, I think you’re awfully underwhelming.” You lean down to his level, musing yourself in the way he heaved.

“But I can forgive all that.” Your fingers fiddle with the strap of his backpack. “You’re useful in a way—“

With a gauntlet over your neck, he slams you against the wall.

“I ain’t working for nobody,” He churned. “And I definitely won’t be fucking working for people like you.”

“I never said you had to work for me.” You calmly replied despite his grip. “You just have to make better decisions from now on.”

“Fuck you mean by that?”

From the ache your neck bore, you knew it was gonna leave a bruise.

“Aren’t you supposed to be smart?”

He furrows his brows at that statement, holding himself back as he taunts. “… I wonder how your father is going to abandon you once I set this little investment of his on fire.”

Rather than the silence or panic he hoped, Miles heard you laugh.

“Do it.” You playfully suggest. “Do it, and kill all the other interns, employees, and guards in here.” Despite your façade, he could still sense the smirk creeping up your lips. “Then think to yourself, ask yourself; are you any better than my family?”

That alone catches him by surprise.

“… You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“What do you m—“ Before he could even finish off his sentence, a powerful strike ricochets into his stomach, sending him off to the other wall. A loud grunt emanates from his lips, hands gripping the lower of his belly as you set your foot down. “The next time we meet, do promise me that you’ll be much more of a promising opponent. Today was.. Eventless.” Your gaze sets sights on the camera hidden in the corner.

“For now, I’ll have to let someone else do the job.”

As though on cue, you see his partner rush in with the broken cord in his hand. The same broken cord you’d thrown out. Without another word, he lunges at you with lightning speed, and the way you collide with the glass wall sends ripples across the corridor.

“You goddamn son of a bitch.”

“Long time no see.”

Ｃ　Ｒ　Ａ　Ｓ　Ｈ.

And from then on, Miles watches as this figure and his uncle battled amidst the labyrinth. But your words struck him hard, ‘Long time no see’— what did that mean? Did his uncle have a sort of connection to the elites, or has he worked for the upper class before?

With how his punches flew, Miles sensed this sort of undying rage that crackled with the quiver of his Uncle’s fist.

Why did this battle seem so natural? Like the two of them know each other’s moves too well.

“I see you’ve resigned.” You curtly brought up, grunting as he mercilessly charges at you. “And seems like you’ve brought a little something with you.” Upon the mention of Miles, Aaron struck back with a blow, feigning ignorance at your words. Despite your state, you managed to put up a great fight. “Why did you bring him here? He doesn’t seem fit for the job—“

“Stop the small talk, Antonne.”

Antonne.

Anthony Primo-Chávez.

“I’m simply being polite,” You grinned. “It’s been a while, don’t you think so too?”

With that alone, Miles somehow confirmed that the figure was the heir of the hotel in the flesh. The man responsible for the deaths of many— the man responsible for the death of his father. But something felt wrong, like a sense that was gnawing at his guts.

He couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly.

Just of now, Miles realizes that he had no place here, at least, not yet. But he was just as confused as the other guy, why did his uncle bring him here if it was too dangerous?

“Is your sister also a piece of shit like you?”

Sister?

“She’s a little more pacifist than all of us.”

You lie so naturally, it was like second-nature to you— as though it was your second, utterly ridiculous hobby next to scheming. To play the part of Antonne was excruciating enough, but it was enjoyable in a way. You haven’t seen the Prowler for about four years— last seeing him when you were twelve, when he worked for the Fisks until his abrupt resignation. Next thing you and the elite knew, the mercenary who once worked for the high-class was now a vigilante working against them.

No one particularly knew the reason why. You somewhat guessed what it was.

And when the both of you crashed past the danger zone, you knew that the situation was way beyond your grasps from this point on, and the best you could hope for was a perfect gamble.

The man grabs all that he could in his anger, from glass beakers to steel rods, he figures splashing you with whatever thing he could find can help in making you perish from his sights.

You fight back, without the usage of anything else except the blade, only until Aaron repeatedly smashes your head inside a closed-off frozen cage. The two of you fall right in, breaking some sort of container in the process.

“What the fuck?”

Like a flame, it sears your skin— causing you to panic and recklessly pat away at the tar-like substance enveloping you in its sticky embrace. Without even a shriek, it consumes your system entirely, sending you down on your knees.

And the next thing you know, everything else fades into black.

Aaron pulls away, in shock of the dark matter unveiling before him. Immediately, he places a hand over Miles’ eyes, ushering him away.

From afar, they could hear the police sirens coming.

“Let’s— let’s go.” Aaron hurriedly commands.

“Uncle Aaron.”

Miles exhaustively calls out to him.

“Uncle Aaron!”

As his mask unfolds, Miles squints as the sunlight seeping from the tall trees welcomes him, shielding his face with his hands while trudging across the stones to meet his Uncle’s steps. Aaron pauses for a moment, taking only one look back.

“Why’d you bring me there?” Miles directly starts. “I wasn’t strong enough to be there— who was that guy? How- How did you suddenly know about the location of the warehouse, how did— I don’t— I-I have school in three hours, I don’t get why you had to bring me along—“

“That girl you’re seeing,” Aaron intervenes without a waste of breath. “What’s her last name?”

Miles takes a step back, furrowing his brows.

“[L/n].”

Aaron nods. “… It’s the same as the file.”

“What?”

“Bring her to dinner.”

Now everything further confused him, what did you have to do with all of this?

“I-I can’t bring her to dinner yet— what do you mean part of the f— we haven’t even gone on a date yet!”

The date set for tomorrow. The trick-or-treating date Miles had always longed for. Aaron tosses his hand upward. “Just make it quick and let me meet her.” He commands in a rush, pacing his steps faster. “We’ve got to get moving before they find us.”

“But— I don’t get it. What does [Y/n] have to do with all of this?"

Aaron stops for a moment, looking up before heaving a long, jagged sigh.

“… I got a file last night. Sent by an anonymous number. Someone managed to take a picture of you and your girl earlier when you were walking her home.”

Hearing this, a bundle of worries begin to churn in Miles’ mind. This whole night enough was messy for him, and he couldn’t understand why things were getting so complicated. Like what Antonne said earlier, it was ingrained into his mind, Aren’t you supposed to be smart?

“Along with the pictures, I got sent a file. [Y/n] [L/n], is..” Aaron consequently looks into his nephew’s eyes, a sort of hesitation imbued in his system. “Somewhat connected to the Primos.”

Miles halts entirely, and over and over, like how he’s always asked for the last hour. “What?”

“I.. I’ll just tell you when we get home.”

It was many years ago, when your mother endowed this habit of sitting you down by her vanity just to comb your hair and fix you up like a doll.

At that time, you were a tiny little girl with tiny little legs that were unable to reach the floor, instead opting to dangle them with light kicks from your seat— thinking you were some kind of mermaid. During those times, you could only spot at least the whole of your head staring right back at you, but rather than yourself, you marveled at the sight of your mother and her clothes.

The colors she wore were patterned in dates. Mauve, pink, white, and sometimes vermilion in special occasions. Those were the days she used to pick out your clothes for you, and whenever you complained about the color being too bright or dull, your mother would claim that she'd know your colors the best.

As you got older, and when you started dressing for yourself, in the colors you liked, and in the sort of mauve and pink that suited you, you watched as your mother would stare at you from afar with an irate frown, and silently, you'd think to yourself.

Even in the way I rebel against you, you still see yourself in me, because when you look at me, you see only a mirror of your younger self grimacing in disgust. You'd come so far to convince yourself that you're at the height of your being, but your daughter and your child-self only sees mediocrity.

…

“Miss?”

A flurry of people. Lots of talking. You despised that.

“Miss, are you awake?”

“[Y/n], wake up this instant!”

And at your father’s instruction, your eyes peel open almost immediately. You’re greeted with the sight of the ceiling, and your skin covered in warmth. You look at yourself, finding bruises all over your arms, still wearing your white dress shirt and formal pants. Silently, you force yourself to sit up despite the ache you felt, wincing as you spot several faces surrounding you. There was your father, pacing back and forth, certainly distressed about something; Antonne, with his arms crossed, sitting by the edge of your bed; some physician, silently standing by the side with her hands clasped together; and Harry Osborn standing alongside her.

“What’s going on in here?” You haphazardly asked.

“You almost died.” Antonne stirs the silence. “The Warehouse was set on fire, and you were still inside.”

“The warehouse was set on fire!?” You jolt up, only now realizing the dirty looks from your father. “That’s impossible, how could—“

“There were traces of gasoline.” Emerging from the doors, your father approaches you with a sort of chagrin in his glare. “Since you failed to capture or at least slow down the perpetrators, that happened.”

“… You’re placing the blame on me?” You ask, hardly believing your ears.

“We’re not—“ Just as Harry’s about to speak, your father intervenes. “Yes, we are. Because of your incompetence, we lost millions worth of money in damages!”

“Sir, calm down.”

“Father, this is what I’ve been telling you about.” Antonne pinches the bridge of his nose. “She’s sixteen! How could she have possibly fought against a mercenary!?”

“I did better than you.” Poison spewed from your lips, losing all sort of rationality. “This has never happened before. Whenever there was something any of you asked me to do, I did my very best. How could I possibly perform my best when I lacked sleep and I was dependent on coffee!?”

“Your brother is right.”

Hearing that alone was a nightmare.

“Although you’re talented in upkeep and information, you’re too young to fight against an ex-assassin.”

You helplessly scramble off the bed. “Daddy, you’re being unfair.”

Daddy. It’s like you were a ten-year-old fighting for his attention once again. You looked at Antonne, and then your father, shifting in complacency. “I worked for three years, ceaselessly. Even if it meant giving up my weekends and studying so hard that it made my nose bleed. I got the job done, even if no one paid me or thanked me, I still did everything.”

“We’ve lost a lot of resources,” Harry begins. “And we’ve been brought back to square one because of the fire.”

Before Harry could even finish off his explanation, you lift a finger and point at him accusingly. “This is because one of your people decided to leak information—“ In between your rant, Antonne attempts to soothe you. “Had it not been for the fact that you decided to let untrusted people into the faction, we wouldn— stop it, Antonne— we wouldn’t be dealing with this sort of thing. Mother warned you about it, and you brushed off her every warning— STOP IT, ANTONNE!” You finally yelled out. Your brother ceases, lifting his hands off of you after he sees that you’re shaking.

What’s wrong with me?

Why am I being more emotional than usual?

The way the rage consumed you left you in dismay. At a short moment of epiphany, you run your hands across your face and, like a switch, all of your emotions reboot.

“I apologize. I spoke out of line.”

That line alone was chilling.

“I’m sorry, [Y/n].” The tender way Harry called out your name was unfathomable. “I know it’s upsetting that your job is being taken away from you, and you have every right to get upset. However, for your sake and your health, you can pass on these responsibilities to Montrell for now.”

“Montrell’s in London.” You add. “He can’t possibly take over—“

“He’s not in London.” Antonne confesses. You furrowed your brows, shaking your head. “What are you talking about?”

“… It was going to be a surprise but..”

Oh no.

“Oh,” You blankly state, your mind rioting. “I see.”

“It’s an unplanned decision, really,” Your father explains. “Montrell also has no idea that you’ve taken Antonne’s place in taking care of the hotel for the last three years. It’d be better for you, as well, to take a break.”

You wanted to scream, break down, curse at everyone.

“I’m sorry for being too harsh on you, [Y/n].” Harry eases, placing a hand over your shoulder. “However, you have to understand that it’s also for the best.”

“I understand.” Fuck you, and fuck all of you.

“We’ll leave you to rest for now.” Yeah, leave me the fuck alone before I melt the fuck down.

As they step out, all the tension in the room leave along with the squeak of their fine, leather dress shoes. You’re left with the silent physician, whose presence you’d completely forgotten despite the wildness of her dark curls. She shifts uncomfortably, parting her lips to speak, only to find that she didn’t know what to say.

“What is it?” You ask, lowering your voice so as to not intimidate. Prompting to break the silence in her place.

The woman blinks at you, somewhat relieved by your words.

“Can I be direct, Miss?” She sternly asks.

“It’ll be better off that way, frankly.”

She leans a little closer, tugging on the sleeve of your arm. “When you first got here, your body was riddled with cuts, bruises, and broken bones around— oh, can I touch you?”

You squirm. “I’m not a relic.”

“Sorry ‘bout that. Most of the rich people I’ve worked with were usually snobby douches who think their skin shed gold.” She subtly laughs, raising the fabric up higher. “Initially, I believed you were exactly that kind of rich kid, but after seeing what happened, you don’t seem like anything they say.”

You raise a brow. “.. Have we met each other before?”

She looked at you as though you’d just insulted her, her eyes about to pop off her thick-rimmed glasses.

“.. I work at Alchemax. I’m the head of the research team in the particle accelerator project— we’ve spoken many, many times before.”

“.. You’re not my physician?”

Her lips tighten into a line. “I take what I said back. You’re exactly like all those other rich kids.”

“W-well, I’m sorry.” You grumbled. “I work with a hundred different people almost every single day, my mind usually shuts down when I’m at work.”

“Well, your father did just drag me out of the line and forced me to fix you up since they didn’t want to risk calling for a doctor who doesn’t know that you’re parading as your brother.” She spoke so quickly, it made you rethink what she just said three times. “Anyways— I needed to tell you that under my observations, you’ve healed yourself in a supernaturally fast rate that it’s groundbreaking.”

“What?”

“Six hours ago, you had broken bones in here,” She points her fingers at your shoulder. “Here,” Followed by your thigh. “And here.” Then your calf. “But after seeing your little drama session with your father, you were able to move yourself without any sort of pain. Initially, I concluded that you must’ve had some very high pain tolerance, but I noticed that so many of your cuts and bruises have all been healed, and that,” Her fingers trace a line over your neck. “That was red as hell just moments ago. Now, it’s gone.”

Oh, the mark you got from Prowler Jr after he choked the hell out of you.

You liked calling him that. Prowler Jr— a smaller, rustier protégée of the Prowler you grew up with.

“.. I wonder why so.”

There was a wily grin on her face that unsettled you tremendously.

“Well, without your father looking, I ran a test on you.”

“You what?”

Without even a single second to lose, the woman takes out few samples from her bag, laying them all out before you with a couple of handwritten documents.

“Here.” She states so proudly.

You marveled at all that she’s written— unfortunately for you, her handwriting was so messily done that you couldn’t understand a single damn thing.

“… You could get sued for this, you know that?”

“Your father wouldn’t. Unlike his children, he can’t find a replacement for me.”

Your mouth hung in disbelief at what you just heard. Rather than acknowledging the insult, however, she plucks out a print of what you assumed were tiny splotches of black tar on a petri dish.

“What the hell is that?”

“I got that swabbed out of your mouth.”

“Oh fuck, I thought I’d dieted enough for the performance!”

“It’s not sweets, sweetheart.” She answered defeatedly, clearly full of your unsure-weaponized-incompetence. “It’s a mysterious symbiote that we’ve recently caught hold of four months ago, and during your fight with the Prowler, it forged itself into your system.” Her fingers trace down your arm, grasping the center of your wrist while grinning. “And it can make you do this.”

As she squeezes your hand, a black matter ejects from your palm. You jolt away, slapping her hand off as you curse.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?”

“The symbiote.” She casually replies. “Isn’t it amazing?”

It retreats like a slimey being, pushing itself back into your skin as though it’d all been a mere hallucination.

“You mean to tell me there’s some alien slime living inside my body!?”

“Well, yes—“

“GET IT OUT OF ME!”

She winces at the loudness of your voice, moving back an inch away. “That’ll take a while for me to dissect. You have to come to my lab tomorrow if you want me to find a way to pull that away from you.”

“I can’t go tomorrow.” You had a date with Miles, and that alone was reasonable enough to miss anything and everything else. “I-I have practice for the fundraiser on Sunday, and I’m still the hostess, so I have to make sure that the preparations are seamless.”

“… I have a comment, but I’m not sure if you’ll like it since you probably hear it all the time.”

“What? That I’m just like my mother?”

She scrunches her nose. “I was going to say that you’re too young to be acting so old.” The woman turns away, beginning to pack up her things again. “You’re sixteen. You should be going out to parties, creating fake IDs, sneaking out to make out with your boyfriend— whatever other shit girls your age like to do.”

You try your hardest not to react at the last mention, since that was definitely what you just did a few hours before. You begin to rub your hands, the friction warming you up as your shoulders shrug.

“Well, as much as I want to do all that, I’ve got too much to do.”

“You won’t be sixteen forever, Miss.” She tosses the bag over her shoulder. “Take that from me. I’m forty-six, and I’ve went through a lot. I’d give everything to be your age again.”

As you watch her head for the door, you call out to her one last time.

“.. Call me [Y/n]. I don’t like it when people way older than me call me ‘miss’.”

She raised her brows. “Alright then, [Y/n].” Your name rolls off her tongue gently.

“How about you? What do I call you?”

With a hand over the knob, the woman beamed.

“.. I’m Olivia Octavius, but you can call me Liv.”

[thebabblingbabs]

Since y’all liked my last post, I thought I’d give y’all a summery of this project!

So The Hunchback of Notre Dame is my FAVORITE movie of all time and was also the first movie I ever saw! (I was 2 yo and it was in theatres) I’ve been obsessed ever since.

Well as you all know, there is already a direct to DVD sequel which is……an affront to mankind imo, so I decided at the age of 12 that I would remedy this issue and create my own sequel!

Skip about 17 years later and here we are! My skills have honed enough that I feel comfortable actually working on this!

-

Story summary: It has been 10 years since the events of the first film, and Quasimodo is still adjusting to his new life. He can go outside whenever he likes and even helps the citizens with woodworking and other things. Phoebus has been working as the place holder judge while he waits for the King to find a proper replacement, and Esmeralda is helping Quasi learn more about her people while also raising two children.

Esmeralda really wants Quasi to leave the cathedral and start a life of his own outside of the place he was hidden for so long, but Quasi is still dealing with trauma and is very hesitant….When suddenly the circus comes to town! Madame Rousseau’s Magnificent Miraculum!

Quasimodo and his friends are excited to see the circus, but things aren’t as wonderful as they seem…

-

So yeah! I’ll try and keep y’all updated on this comic project :3 I have a good amount of characters designed so stay tuned!!

[kinnsporsche]

where i’ve been: an explanation

some of y’all might have noticed my activity on this site has been dwindling over the last few weeks and i’ve only really been posting from a queue, i’ll be putting a proper explanation on things under the cut for people who are interested but the tldr is that uh

my uncle was murdered under very suspicious circumstances

none of my family have seen my uncle for years, and i haven’t seen him since i was a little kid - we only know he’d died because my mum was listed as his next of kin which is weird considering that they hadn’t spoken in years and also that uh. most of her brothers (not the uncle in question) beat the shit out of her when she was a kid.

they found his body in the desert in arizona, we think somewhere in pinal county (we weren’t given specifics 🙄) which is, in itself, hella sus. we have no family in america, and they told us that he wasn’t a US citizen, which means he was either a tourist or maybe an illegal immigrant? they didn’t tell us who found him, all they told us is that he was found sitting under a tree somewhere deep enough in the desert that it would have been impossible to walk to given the death date and rate of decomposition, and all he had on him was his passport (how they found my mom) and a ticket to universal. there were no signs of cars around and no abandoned vechicles anywhere in the vicinity. 

we got the coroner’s report back recently and he had no drugs or alcohol in his system, no visible trauma, the rate of decomposition was elevated and his skin was like leather so they listed his cause of death as undetermined and told us that their best guess was that he dehydrated and died. which all just. makes no sense. they told us his body was in an area deep enough he couldn’t walk to, so how did he even get there let alone dead under a tree? 

so now, where we’re at, is that they want us to deal with his body, and to get a body sent back to the UK costs like £4000 which is impossible (my mum’s brothers already said they’re not helping lmao), or the option to bury him in what we would call a paupers grave i guess? so he’d probably be listed as an unclaimed body, but then we lose access to everything - to his body, to information, to closure. so we’re stuck at a standstill pretty much, and it’s just back and forth between my mom and the consulate they assigned to us.

obviously all of this has been really hard on my mum, especially because he was her youngest brother, he was the baby of the family and the thought that he died somewhere out in the middle of the desert alone and afraid is heartbreaking for her and it destroys her whenever she thinks about it too much, so im mostly just taking care of her at the moment. 

all we have now is more questions than answers, and every explanation we come up with just gives us more questions. it’s unlikely we’ll ever find out what happened to him, pinal county seems content to let it go unanswered despite the fact it’s suspicious as hell and there’s hardly anything we can do because we’re in a whole different country (UK) and can’t keep pushing as easily. we really want to know when he entered the country so we can figure out what he was doing there but, at the moment, we literally dont know a thing about him. if we find out, i will keep updated.

whatever happened to him, i hope he’s found some semblance of peace. 😔

[goldenrdkin]

Rewriting D:TNR

Okay, before I start... I love this entire franchise. And not just because I’m HTTYD-sourced, I genuinely love all of it, ever since I was little and watching the first movie. It has been a joy to be apart of HTTYD, even as a fan and fictionkin.

Now... saying this, I have grown a horrible distaste towards The Nine Realms. It feels... so offensive to hardcore fans like myself. The story makes no sense, the character designs are just... 🤢... and so far, the plot hasn’t gone ANYWHERE. It’s so obviously a cash-grab, I’m surprised Dreamworks didn’t just come out and say “hey, we want your money. Give it.” (Side-note: I’m not referring to the people who actually worked on the show. Animators, designers, VAs, etc... they aren’t to blame, they tried their damn hardest. It’s the higher ups we should be mad at, the ones calling the shots.)

So, in honor of the burning pit of vengeance in my heart, I’m rewriting The Nine Realms. You heard me. I’m going to rewrite it and just TRY to heal myself from the torture and trauma this series has brought me.

Just for a sneak peak, here’s what I’ve written for Tom so far (yes, I’ll be redrawing them too, I haven’t gotten to it just yet!).

(I’ll leave a text-only version below the “Read more”) Any details are still subject to change, but I want to keep this as... “authentic” as possible. While I hate The Nine Realms we have now, I want to make a version that doesn’t suck as much while still being recognizable. 

But for now, this is gonna be a long road. Hopefully I don’t get burnt out right after this... I’ll be sure to keep y’all thoroughly updated (if I remember, heh-).

-- TEXT-ONLY VERSION --

Tom Kullersen Nicknames: Tommy Gender: Male (he/him) Age: 14 Ethnicity: European Relations: Olivia Kullersen (mother)

His Dragon: Thunder Interests: Animals Personality: Reckless, impulsive

Backstory Tom was raised alone by his mother, after his unnamed father left them without return. He has no recollection of his father, and he doesn’t care to see him. His mother was (and still is) a world renowned geologist, and struggled to stay actively involved in Tom’s life. At a young age, Tom was fascinated with animals, even finding himself crawling into a polar bear exhibit which he’s still reminded of to this day.

Knowing his passion for wildlife, Olivia brought Tom with her to Project Icarus in hopes of indulging and developing his passion into a career. Here, he will meet his future team and friends — D’Angelo, Alexandra, and Jun — while (unexpectedly) uncovering the biggest discovery in zoology right below Project Icarus.

[freddiesaysalright]

Part of Your World - Chapter 3

Ben!Prince Eric x Mermaid!Reader

Summary: Prince Ben is trying to escape an arranged marriage. A young mermaid wants to escape the sea. Their paths cross and they may just be what the other is looking for.

Word Count: 4.2K

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks​, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @the-moving-finger-writes​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @rose-writes-prose​, @queenlover05​, @26-7-49​, @drowsebaby​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @queen-paladin​, @rogerina-owns-me, @mirkwoodshewolf​, @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​, @radiob-l-a-hblah​, @xviiarez​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: I’m sorry these chapters are taking so long, y’all. I have just been having a rough time. I hope y’all enjoy this update, though :D

Warning(s): None :)

Moodboard

Chapter 1  Chapter 2

Chapter 3 here we go!!!

“You were waiting for me?” you questioned.

She snickered humorlessly. “Of course, princess. I keep track of all things going on in the ocean. I hoped you would consult me for help.”

You squared your shoulders. “I’ve heard rumors about you, Sycoria. Your help always comes with a price.”

“Well of course it does, darling,” she practically sang back. “All things have a price, not just my services. How would the world be if you could just get something from nothing?”

She began to slink around you, circling you, her eyes hungrily searching your form. You were apprehensive about this. But you had come this far. And you had to see Ben again.

“So, what is it you know about my desires?” you asked. 

“You want the human prince,” she answered. “In order to get him, you’ll have to become human.”

You blinked. “Is that something you’re capable of?”

“Oh, my dear,” she chuckled. “I can do anything.”

“And...and what would it cost me?” you asked.

She stopped in front of you and examined your face. 

“There will be two things,” she said. “One for each leg. The first, that pretty ring on your finger.”

“But -”

“It costs what it costs, darling,” she cut across you. “No haggling.”

You remained silent.

“That’s a good girl,” she praised sarcastically. “And get used to that. The second thing I want is your voice.”

“My voice?” you questioned. “But won’t I need my voice to get to know him?”

“Who needs all that?” she returned. “You’re beautiful! What else does he need to know about you?”

“I just think we should have some common interests and -”

She cut you off again. “Listen, girl. Men on the surface are not interested in a woman’s opinion or interests. You’re better off using that pretty face of yours.”

You frowned. That didn’t sound right to you. There was no way Ben had that view and tolerated Behati at the same time. Even if human society in general felt it, that was not Ben. But, that probably wasn’t relevant to Sycoria. You decided not to argue the point any further. Besides, who needed a voice when your souls had already met? You could find a way to communicate.

“Okay,” you said. “So, what’s the catch?”

“I’ll give you seven days to get the prince to fall in love with you,” she said with a sneer. “And he has to kiss you - true love’s kiss. If it happens, you will be a human permanently, and go on your merry way.”

“But if I don’t?”

“If you don’t,” she said. “I turn you into sea foam.”

You gasped and your stomach dropped. That was a rather harsh alternative! Conflict stirred within you. If you accomplished this, you would have all you ever wanted. But if you didn’t, there was a horrifying existence awaiting. Either way, there was no returning to your old life. The only way to do that was to swim away now. But your heart ached at the thought of missing out on your chance for Ben. So that wasn’t really an option. 

Sycoria extended her hand.

“Is it a deal?” she pressed.

You observed her outstretched palm and hesitated. Your heart was hammering against your chest. There was no turning back now. No matter what happened, your life would never be the same. And you didn’t want it to be.

“It’s a deal.”

She let out a wicked cackle as she took your hand. A gold thread appeared above your arms and wrapped itself around your clasped hands. It tightened on you and it felt warm against your skin. Sycoria waved her free hand above it and began to chant in a language you did not understand. 

Ben’s ring floated off your hand and slid itself onto Sycoria’s finger. Water began to swirl around the fins at the bottom of your tail. The whirlpool rose up around you, except for the hand still attached to the sea witch’s. 

Your tail began to heat up. You looked down and saw it glowing the same gold as the string that sealed your agreement. You watched as the fins and scales twisted up and deformed. Magically, your tail began to split in half. It wasn’t painful, but you did feel an odd ache as your scales disappeared and smooth skin took its place. Suddenly, you had thighs, knees, ankles, feet! You almost gasped, but you couldn’t. Not with fully human lungs.

Sycoria released your hand. The whirlpool began to shoot upwards, taking you with it. It pushed you all the way out of her cave, and then rocketed away. It moved so fast your vision was blurry. That might have also been from struggling to breathe. But you were abruptly far away from her lair, nothing around you for miles. Then, you began a projection upward. You hurtled toward the surface, desperate for air.

When you finally broke through, you gulped it in. Fresh air. It had never felt so precious to you. The whirlpool slowly brought you to the nearby shoreline. Then you felt it. Warm sand. Dazed, winded, exhausted, and alone, you collapsed into it. 

***

“There’s an island up ahead where we can stop,” Behati said, checking her map. “We’ve been there before.”

“Are there supplies there?” Ben asked.

“There are no people, but plenty of animals,” she explained. “Wild turkeys and the like. Plus, fresh fruits. We stocked up in your harbor, but I’d like some more things. Plus, we can give the girls some time off the ship.”

He shot her a sympathetic look. She smiled.

“Don’t feel sorry for me, little prince,” she said. “Soon enough, I will find Sycoria and break this curse. Until then, I won’t deprive my girls.”

“I want to help,” he told her. “With finding the sea witch.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in it,” she replied.

“Well, it’s coming from you,” he said. “You’re the most honest person I’ve ever met.”

“That really is saying something, considering I’m a pirate,” she teased.

He chuckled. “I trust you, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m flattered, but we agreed that this was temporary,” she said. “Finding Sycoria could take years, and you won’t want to be here that long.”

“Sure I will!” he protested.

She shook her head. “No, you won’t. Remember that girl that saved your life? Don’t you want to find her?”

“Well, yes, but she might not even be real,” he said. 

“How could you imagine a woman rescuing you?” she challenged. “I appreciate you, Ben, but you have your own journey. And I have mine.”

“Maybe I could help you first, and then you could help me,” he suggested.

She grinned. “They are too different, little prince.”

She began to walk away. He frowned.

“Why do you call me ‘little prince’ all the time?” he asked. “I’m not that much younger than you.”

She turned to face him with a smirk. “I may not look it, but I’m actually old enough to be your mother.”

“That old?”

With astonishing speed, she whipped around, removed her boot, and hurled it at him, hitting him square in the chest. He took the impact with a soft “oof” and caught the shoe before it fell to the deck. He could already feel a bruise forming.

“Shut up and get ready to anchor, porky mouth,” she said with a scowl. 

He chuckled again and tossed her shoe back to her. She shoved her foot into it and stomped away, slamming the door to her quarters. He laughed.

“I wouldn’t be so amused, Ben,” Ari said. “She may leave you on the island for that one.”

He stopped laughing. “Are you serious?”

She shrugged. Then she moved along to prepare to go to the island.

Before getting on the rowboat, Ben was assured he would be allowed to return to the ship. He joined Kay and Ari in their boat as the crew lowered it down. It hit the water with a soft splash and then the three of them - with two other boats - began to row toward the shore.

The water was smooth, with few waves, so their oars cut through it easily. They were able to reach the shore within minutes. 

As they all climbed out and hit the sand, Ben noticed something that made his brows draw together. It appeared to be...footprints. Footprints leading into the woods. He nudged Ari with his elbow as she finished throwing her oar down. She faced him.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Look,” he said, pointing.

She followed his finger and saw it too. She whistled and everyone looked at her.

“Ben just pointed out something we all should be aware of,” she said. “Someone else has been on the island.”

They all exchanged a nervous look.

“You’ll see just over there, footprints leading into the foliage,” she went on. “Keep your weapons up and your senses sharp. We don’t know who this person is or what they’re capable of.”

“Couldn’t it be someone in need?” asked Sharna, another crew member. “If they’re alone, they might be a victim of a shipwreck.”

Ben had not considered that. He looked at Ari.

“That might be true,” she agreed. “But if that’s the case, they may be as defensive and guarded as we are. If they’ve been through trauma, they’ll be jumpy. We still have to have the utmost caution.”

They all nodded. Several of them drew daggers, while Ari retrieved her pistol. They all crouched low and started toward the tree line.

You were just heading back to the beach, hoping to see any sign of Behati’s ship. But before that, you needed water and to eat something. You’d found a creek in the jungle, and drank from it to ease your parched throat. On several of the bushes, you found berries. You plucked them from the branches and headed back to the sand to enjoy them. 

Walking was proving to be a bit of a challenge. You had to carefully consider each step, and parts of the path were painful against your feet. It didn’t occur to you how much the plant life could prick and poke at you. 

Legs were a lot wobblier than a tail. In the water, you didn’t really need balance. But the sturdiness of the ground beneath you was jarring. To have your surroundings be so rigid and unmoving was something you were really going to have to adjust to.

As you approached the beach and the tree line thinned out, you saw that there was already a group of people there. Your eyes immediately found Ben, but you noticed that all of them were on edge as they came toward the trees. They had their weapons drawn and were all staying close together. They hadn’t seen you yet.

You crouched behind a bush, feeling an odd stretch in your muscles. Knees and ankles were strange and not nearly as strong as you had hoped. You had to put down the fruit and use your hands to stay balanced.

Ben took a deep breath as he and the girls stopped just before the trees. He looked carefully among the thick green branches but couldn’t see anything or anyone. It set him even more on edge. Ari was looking back toward the tracks in the sand, brow furrowed. Ben followed her gaze.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“It looks like….whoever this was had trouble walking,” she said. “There are drag marks in the sand too, and places where it looks like they fell. I think Sharna’s right, this is probably someone in trouble.”

“If they’re struggling to walk, they can’t have gone far,” Ben pointed out. “Should we call out so we don’t startle them?”

Ari hesitated. “I’m not sure. They could still be dangerous. I don’t want any of us at risk, either.”

You heard their hushed conversation despite their efforts. Now that their shoulders had relaxed and their weapons had lowered, you felt like now was the time to meet them. You were only a few feet away. Slowly, you pushed yourself up.

Ben and Behati’s crew jumped back when they heard the bush rustle and you rose to your full height. They watched in awe as you appeared before them. It struck you suddenly that they were clothed and you were not. Humans covered themselves. It was a mystery to you as to why, but you stood out enough to feel embarrassed.

Ben had never seen a woman so beautiful. You felt familiar to him, like he had met you before, only he couldn’t place where it was. Something about your eyes gave him the feeling. You held his gaze with such a knowing look, he was certain you felt it too.

“It’s you!” he gasped. 

“What?” Ari questioned.

He stepped forward, ignoring her, and he approached you.

“Have we met before?” he asked.

You nodded, beaming. 

“You’re the one I’ve been looking for!” he cried.

He reached out for you, and you took his offered hand. To touch him sent such a thrill through your body, you nearly forgot that the others were there.

“Please, you’ve got to tell me your name,” he said. 

You started to say it, but no sound came from your throat. In your excitement, you forgot that your voice was gone. You thought for a moment about what to do. Then you decided to try something crazy. 

My name is Y/N, you signed to him.

His face fell. The disappointed expression that claimed it broke your heart.

“Oh, I must be mistaken,” he said. “The woman who saved me spoke to me.”

You tried to stay optimistic.

You know sign language? You asked.

He nodded. “Yes. My mother is deaf, so I learned it young.”

That made you smile. He offered a small one in return.

“D’you need help?” he asked.

You nodded your head. He looked you over, realizing just now that you were naked. Your hair covered your chest, the bush you hid behind blocked you from the waist down, but his cheeks still went pink. He shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“There,” he said, then turned to Ari. “Should we bring her to the ship?”

“Well, she’s a woman in need, Captain Behati will be happy to help her,” she said. “What did she say her name was?”

“Y/N,” Ben said, looking back at you. “That’s rather pretty.”

Thank you, you signed, your own face heating up now.

“Come on, Y/N,” Ari said. “Ben and I will take you to the ship while the rest of the girls do some hunting and gathering.”

Her smile was gentle. You immediately trusted her. Still holding Ben’s hand, you came out from behind the bush. You stumbled when you moved, and you fell right into Ben’s chest. He caught you in strong arms, with a soft laugh. You looked up at him apologetically.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You’ve really been through something, haven’t you?”

You nodded slowly. He helped you steady yourself, and the three of you headed back down the beach toward the row boat. He had to assist you into it, but you didn’t mind at all. You settled onto the little bench seat, wrapping his coat tighter around your shoulders. It smelled so nice. Something you didn’t notice the last time you were close to him. 

“I’ll row,” Ari said, picking up the oar before Ben could. “You need to be resting that arm.”

“It’s fine,” he protested, but she shook her head. “At least let me help push it.”

“Fine,” she said. “But nothing more after that. You really want to have to get it sewn up again?”

“God, no,” he sighed. “You can row.”

“That’s a good lad,” she said.

You smiled at their friendly exchange. It felt a bit odd once you were on the water to be floating in the boat. You had never noticed how much the water actually moved before. The rocking motion made your stomach churn. 

“So, Y/N, how’d you end up on the island?” Ben asked.

Shipwreck, you signed. 

You didn’t like to lie, but the truth was too unbelievable. 

“A shipwreck, eh?” he continued. “It must have been some journey for you. I didn’t see any debris.”

You blinked, surprised by this observation, but slid quickly back to a neutral expression.

I’m not sure how it happened or where, you signed. There was an explosion, and the next thing I knew, I was on the island.

“That’s scary,” he said. “I’m sorry you went through all that.”

Thank you, you signed. 

He put his hand on top of yours and you felt warm.

It didn’t take long to reach the ship. Ben had to help you again, since you struggled to stand up in the rocking boat. However, this time when you climbed up, there was a rope ladder. It was much easier without a tail. Ari came up behind you, and Ben climbed up last. Ari helped you over the edge, and you planted your feet on the ship. 

Behati emerged from her quarters when she heard the noise. Your jaw dropped when you saw her. She was so tall, and her skin was so dark and beautiful. She was a living legend, right in front of you.

Then you remembered that she had seen you for that fleeting moment after you rescued Ben. You saw the recognition in her eyes - as well as some confusion at your new appearance - and you shot her a pleading look. She gave you a curt nod. She would not reveal you.

“Captain, this is Y/N,” Ari said. “We found her on the island. Apparently there was a shipwreck.”

“I see,” Behati said. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. But we’re happy to help you.”

“She got on a lot easier than I did,” Ben joked.

“She is not a man,” she returned with a chuckle.

“Well, she can’t speak,” he explained. “But she knows sign language.”

“You know sign language?” Behati questioned, eyebrows raising.

“Yeah, my mother’s deaf,” he said again. “I was raised with it. I’m surprised you know it.”

“I meet all kinds of people, little prince,” she said. “I thought it would be useful to know. There are a few other crew members who know it as well.”

That’s a relief, you signed. 

“I bet,” she teased. “Can you imagine only being able to talk to Ben?”

“Hey!” he said with playful indignance. 

Their banter made you worry a bit. Could it be possible that Ben and the captain were already attached to each other? You were so certain that you had felt something after rescuing him, but what if it was only gratitude? What if you were doomed to Sycoria’s fate because he already loved another? 

 “Come,” Behati said. “We’ll get you some fresh clothes and some water, yeah?”

You nodded and followed her to her quarters. 

Ben watched you go, feeling an unfamiliar longing in his chest. The way your hair fell down your back and swished when you walked was mesmerizing. The way your hands moved so delicately when you signed charmed him. And your eyes were absolutely captivating. 

“How sweet,” Ari joked. “Ben’s got a crush.”

“I do not,” he returned, rolling his eyes.

Inside with Behati, she addressed the elephant in the room.

“So, last time we met, you were a mermaid,” she said. “Although, we weren’t properly introduced.”

You looked uncomfortably at the floor. She pushed some clothes into your arms, then cupped your chin to make you look at her.

“I won’t ask what made you do this, it’s not my business,” she said. “But there’s only one being I know with the power to make such a transformation….Sycoria.”

You held her gaze and nodded.

“Do you know how to find her?” she asked.

You shook your head before you signed, After she transformed me, she sent me away so fast, I was disoriented. I’m not sure how far away the island is from her lair.

“So, she’s in a lair somewhere,” Behati said. “It can’t be too far from here. What do you remember of it?”

Purple, you signed. It glows purple.

“Well, it’s a start,” she said. “Welcome aboard, Y/N. I’ll let you get dressed.”

She started to leave, but you grabbed her arm. She faced you.

Are you and Ben...together? You asked.

It was such an awkward thing. But you had to know now if you were wasting your time. She threw her head back and cackled.

“Oh, sweet sea child,” she wheezed, wiping her eyes. “The only one interested in Ben on this ship is you.”

Your brow furrowed.

“I’ve never wanted a man,” she said. “Nor will I. I have only ever loved women.”

And your crew? They’re all like you?

She nodded. “There are a few of us who enjoy men as well. But most of us don’t.”

I never thought that human attraction was as varied as the merpeople, you signed. We have many couples of varied genders.

“Humans are fascinating creatures, Y/N,” she told you. “I just hope they don’t disappoint you.”

You raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Never mind,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll leave you to it now.”

You took her arm again. Now - a little embarrassed - you signed, I don’t know how to put them on.

She chuckled. “I’ll help you, then. No worries.”

You thanked her and she showed you how to wear everything. They were simple clothes, and she taught you the words for everything - pants, shirt, boots, et cetera. Human garments were surprisingly comfortable, but Behati explained that most human women wore dresses, underneath which were these things called corsets. They sounded horrible to you, so you were grateful to be where you were.

“And one last thing,” Behati said, grabbing a hat and placing it on your head. “Protect that pretty skin from the sun.”

You smiled again at her. 

“We’ll need to do something about that hair,” she said. “I can braid it for you if you want.”

You nodded eagerly and plopped yourself down in her chair. She laughed and took her place behind you. You had extremely long hair, and just the few moments you spent on deck showed you the wind was going to be a problem. Thankfully, Behati twisted your hair into two beautiful braids, and you were ready to join the crew.

When you stepped out, Ben and Ari were waiting. 

“How does she look?” Behati asked, twirling you.

“Great!” Ben said, enthusiastically. “Although, she looks much too sweet to be a member of a pirate crew.”

Your face flushed and you toyed with one of your braids. He felt his heart skip a beat at your display of bashfulness. He thought you were...cute. Very cute.

“I agree,” Behati said. “But luckily, it’s not permanent. Perhaps we’ll find something more suitable for her at our next stop.”

“When’s that?” Ben wondered.

“Not far from here is a harbor town called Henrietta,” she told him. “We’re going to stop there to pick up things like clothes and weapons. Plus, there’s someone there I’d like Y/N to meet.”

You shot her a quizzical look. 

“Not to worry,” she said. “Ben will go with you.”

She explained nothing else, but returned to her quarters. 

She’s so mysterious, you signed.

“She is,” he agreed. “But she’s got a big heart.”

You nodded. 

So, you began. Was your mother born deaf or did she become deaf later in life?

“She was born deaf,” he said. “Were you born mute?”

You shook your head sadly. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

It’s alright, you signed. It was sort of my choice. But that’s a long story. 

“Well, I’d love to hear it someday,” he said kindly.

I want to know more about you, you replied. What’s your mother’s name?

“Asenora,” he said. “My father’s name is James. They’re the king and queen.”

Tell me more.

You coaxed as much information as you could out of Ben before the crew returned from the island. It was nearly two hours of getting to know him. He told you a bit about his childhood and the way he ended up with Behati - since he was unaware you knew the story from your eavesdropping. 

“You’re a very easy person to talk to, Y/N,” Ben said. 

Probably because I’m not able to interrupt, you joked.

He chuckled. “Well, you said it.”

Not technically, you continued.

He full on laughed. “Look, the girls are coming back. But why don’t we continue this later? It’s been really lovely to have someone to chat to.”

You nodded. 

Absolutely, you signed. How can I help?

“Ari and I can show you,” he said.

He took your hand and led you over to her. As the small team returned, it was time to get ready to hoist the anchor and move again. And dinner had to be prepared. Ari showed you how to help, and you were eager to prove you could. As you helped her wind up a rope, you looked over at Ben, who was helping Behati sort the food and game they had collected on the island. He caught your eye and smiled. 

What you had felt after your rescue was still there, that much you knew. The only obstacle was getting to a place where you could explain everything to Ben. You just hoped he would believe you. But as you grinned at each other, you were as hopeful as you’d ever been.

[highqueenofelfhame]

acowar reread thread

so i think i’ll update this post every few chapters unless anything super major happens that i want to immediately react to, that way you get my commentary but i’m not totally flooding and flooding and flooding your feed with a super super long post. i think i’m going to edit it under the cut and reblog it every time it gets updated and i’ll also number every update so it’s easy to find where i left off. if you guys prefer the other way i’ll transition back to the other way for acofas.) this is super fun i’ll start doing this for more books if you’re interested, including books i read for the first time. (after acofas, crescent city is next and it’ll be my first time reading it!)

UPDATES UNDER THE CUT.

1) chapters 1-5 I’ve read up through chapter five and so far my favorite thing is just how DONE feyre is with literally everyone in the spring court. the amount of times she’s had to like look away and not roll her eyes is just hilarious, her dry inner monologue, she just made a comment about having to remind herself to laugh and not strangle tamlin while they were dancing at the summer solstice and it just is so funny to me. 

i miss rhys. but the few times they’ve spoken through the bond is enough to tide me over. he told her he loved her once and i sighed out loud. i’m such trash for this bitch. 

feyre hijacking the summer solstice ceremony is COMEDIC GOLD. like you kNOW ianthe was fuming and furious and trying to save face the best she could but like hats off to feyre man. her character development from book one to where we’re at in book three is fantastic. she’s not a simpering little girl anymore, she’s a bad bitch and she kNOWS she’s a bad bitch and it’s just.. fucking great. 

i also, as much as i don’t want to, feel for lucien A LOT. i think a lot of his behavior is heavily influenced by how he’s been treated by tamlin for most of his life and i feel genuine remorse from him and the fact that he can like tell something is up but isn’t saying anything just shows, to me anyway, how much remorse he’s genuinely feeling. 

also alis knowing that something is up is just a testament to how attentive she is as a faerie and a friend and i really love that about her.

“I was the nightmare” YAS BITCH. FUCKIN YAASSS.

2) chapters 6-10 feyre is so goddamn clever. the entire time she’s bringing down the spring court she’s witty and fierce and clever and really just iS THAT BITCH, HUH? 

i don’t like jurian but the fact that he still has compassion within himself for his kind despite being literally insane for being just AWAKE and aware for like 500 years is... nice and pleasantly surprising because i feel like you wouldn’t think that of him being that he’s siding with hybern so that he thanked feyre when she tried to get the children of the blessed out of there... i don’t know why i’m bringing this up, it’s just something that stuck out to me and that jurian also vouches (to feyre) about rhysand’s character and how decent of a person he found him to be. it’s just very interesting and i feel like speaks leaps and bounds about rhysand as a person. 

feyre pushing tamlin to explode again... just CHEF KISS. like she really thought of everything. she thought of everything to internally make his sentries doubt him and then completely hate them by orchestrating the ianthe vs sentry debacle. she made herself seem very compassionate and kind and and showed tamlin and ianthe for what they were by doing genuinely so little. like all she did was make them show their true colors on their own and it didn’t take tOO much manipulation. idk feyre is just incredible in the spring court. 

forcing ianthe to hurt herself and molding her mind to make her think she’s always afraid is so much better than just outright killing her.. (if i remember from my last read, it doesn’t hold up, but the thought is there and it’s genius) I also think that this shows a lot about feyre and her character because despite everything she couldn’t just leave lucien alone with ianthe and the unwanted advances. she stayed and fought for her friend (and by extension her mate) even when lucien wouldn’t really fight for her and so feyre is just a fuckin real one like... she’s the kind of friend that you want in your corner. 

killing the hybern twins: glorious. such badassery from lucien and feyre both. 

and i think it’s nice that she let lucien come along with her on her journey back to the night court despite maybe not wanting to but i also think that she knew if she left him behind he could get in serious trouble or wind up dead and so again, i think it says a lot about her character as a person. 

3) chapters 11-15 i’m kind of reading and recapping every 50 pages or so which typically ends up being 4-5 chapters and it’s a good system so far so we’re gonna keep it up! 

the first thing of like, real substance to comment on is lucien saying his father will kill feyre for wielding his power but feyre just responding with “he can get in line.” like her sass is sO GOOD In this book, especially in the spring court chapters.

uhhh big fuck you to eris, i don’t know why people want him to have a redemption arc, he is literally a fat sack of shit that deserves to burn and i’m not sorry for saying so. he’s abusive and cruel and doesn’t deserve like, anything at all. although i will say good on him for balking a bit when feyre revealed she’s high lady. 

CASSIAN AND AZRIEL SUPERHERO LANDING ON THE ICE AND KICKING ASS!! I remember vividly the relief i felt when cassian showed up and was able to fly and i still felt so much victory when it happened again. it’s one of my favorite moments of the book so far and just really gets me. also feyre just dropping the “I’m high lady of the night court” bomb is DELICIOUS and i can’t get enough. i read it like six times. because you know as soon as the illyrians yielded to her that the autumn bitches were like “shit.”

“My love.” kILLS ME. you guys, i’ve only read this book once but i’ve reread their reuniting multiple times because it’s just so soft. rhys is so goddamn soft. he loves her so fucking much. i want rhys to call me my love and lick my tears away. goddamn. 

something i think about a lot is how in acotar when tamlin had feyre alone after months of torture he just tried to fuck her despite knowing things weren’t safe. however, knowing she was home and safe, rhys didn’t try for that immediately. like yes, they kissed, but there was so much conversation before they fucked that it just, says a lot about their relationship. tamlin also always demanded to know everything about feyre’s visits as soon as she was back, not even bothering to kiss her hello but rhys was like ‘that shit can wait’ AND THEY’RE ABOUT TO GO TO WAR. rhys loves her so wholly that he wanted to make sure she was okay before he ever bothered to ask about the spring court and how everything unfolded the last few weeks. idk i’m trash for rhysand, y’all. let’s make that a shirt.

the way that rhys threatens lucien, “i won’t bother to explain it again, and i will rip out your fucking throat.” is so sexy. like how casual it was, so sexy.#ripmythroatoutrhysand

amren being a bedtime story but irl is just a cranky aunt lmao.

nesta’s ferocity is, yes, frustrating, but also so heartbreaking to me. for a very long time i had a really rough relationship with my sister and i can see my own sister in nesta (who, by the way, would murder me if she found out i said this so, kara, if u see this, i love u endlessly and i love nesta with my whole heart) especially nesta’s behavior more so in acofas which i’ll talk more about when we get there. but i just, i feel for her man. she’s been traumatized and life as she knows it has been ripped away from her and some people respond to trauma with bite. and i know it doesn’t make it right or okay but it still just makes me feel for her.

cassian and nesta’s banter just gODDAMMIT SLAYS ME. i cannot wait for an entire fucking book of this shit and an entire book of their back and forth. i think nesta loves him and doesn’t know what to do with it because she’s scared so she’s acting like a cornered animal. like nesta is a snake that will strike when cornered and threatened and i just god i can’t wait for their book. 

elain... broke my heart a lot more than i remembered. as someone in the midst of my worst depression i find myself able to relate to that hollow and empty feeling like...all too well and it struck a cord and i almost cried at how empty she was. 

4) chapters 16-29 there is the whole meeting at amren’s apartment and cassian defends nesta, saying that he understands her actions, her snark, why she is the way she is, and it just honestly reinforces my love for cassian. i don’t have much to say about it but that i just really love the respect that he has for others. more cassian things: feyre brings up again how even broken and literally bleeding out and on the ground with his wings completely shredded he was still crawling toward nesta and reaching for her and trying to get to her. “because i can’t stay away.” fucking cracks my heart open every time. 

i love everything about the first family dinner back together. i love all the banter, i love that nesta sat in and even contributed to dinner conversation a little bit. lucien being so uncertain of the dynamic is hilarious. amren like opening herself up in a way to nesta and telling her that they’re the same, and to make sure her eruption is felt across worlds, i love it. i’m marking a lot more from amren than i thought i would. cassian at one point, he points to az and says “don’t try to blend into the shadows” and it actually made me chuckle to myself because hE DOES THAT. and it’s funny that cassian calls him on it. 

i don’t think nesta gets enough credit (for like anything, we all been knew i’m a slut for her and stan her with my life) but even as broken and angry as she was she did still offer to help explore magic that she doesn’t want and got as a result of trauma so that she can try to help. she isn’t completely useless. and i like that she has backbone and isn’t just a pushover little bitch. (that isn’t directed toward elain. like i previously mentioned, i’m finding that i relate a lot to her in her current state.) i just mean that i’m glad she sticks up for herself and doesn’t just like, do what people tell her to do. ya know?

rhys being so open to feyre pushing back on him about things like, again man. tamlin erupted and got angry, rhys is like “hell, i deserved it.” just, the differences in their relationships and the toxicity that comes from tamlin and the devotion rhys has for feyre is (say it with me) DELICIOUS.

i also like that just because feyre is high lady that the IC doesn’t just like flop over and bend down and take shit (i’m looking at you, spring court.) like cassian isn’t afraid to be like “you pissed me off by sacrificing yourself.” because he cares. LIKE, AGAIN WITH HIS DEVOTION. his loyalty is just so pure. it isn’t blind but it is pure and i just, god i love it. 

also everyone forgets that azriel has a dry ass sense of humor and i don’t see any of y’all writing it into your fics. “In order to fly, you’ll need wings” he said drily. IT’S DELICIOUS. dry humor is some of the best. and i like that feyre is learning more and getting to spend more time with him. 

5) chapter 20-27 this one will be a bit of a dump because i accidentally read too much today so far to try to catch up from my lack of reading yesterday so... oops. 

“Let’s see what names you call me when my head is between your legs, Feyre darling.” ugh. i wish a mans would say that to me. not really. i wish rhys would say that to me and only rhys. maybe rowan. or aaron warner. or cassian. or -- you get it. 

amren is SO FUCKING FUNNY without doing it on purpose. like genuinely hilarious. “she’s fine. stubborn as an ass, but as you’re related, i’m not surprised.” rOAST THEM. also amren makes nesta almost smile and she makes her laugh all in the span of like ten seconds AND nesta almost smiles when amren brings up cassian. coincidencE? i tHINK NOT.

again with rhys soothing her nightmares. like god it’s so good i dont even have to say anything else abt it.

feyre realizing that the bone carver is her and rhysand’s son. SO GOOD. like SERIOUSLY SO GOOD. and this doesn’t matter at all rn but i think that rhysand’s son has the potential to be more powerful than even him but that’s a thing to get into for another time.

EVERYTHING THE BONE CARVER SAYS ABOUT NESTA. also that it’s directed at cassian is very interesting and i think the bone carver knows they’re mates. like i wonder if cassian is seeing what feyre sees: his own son. WOULDN’T THAT BE INTERESTING. “How she calls to you.” also the comment about “what did you wake that day in hybern, prince of bastards?” what did cassian wake. the wording here is interesting and i have... a lot of questions. does anyone else just also really fucking enjoy the bone carver as a character? like he’s excellent i’ve never read anything quite like him.

“nothing about nesta could frighten me” UGH MY NESSIAN HEART CAN’T FUCKING TAKE IT.

also cassian stepping it later when nesta is furious with rhysand about the flying. like, one when he sighs and says she’ll never fly again is just... funny and adorable but how nesta was charging for rhys and he casually stepped in front of her and he talked her down. “It was amren’s fault, of course, but no one believed me. and no on dare banish her.” like just babbling a bit to bring her back down to earth. absolutely fascinating and delicious that it worked, wouldn’t you agree? ;)

court of nightmares is always a pleasure. fuck eris. 

also later at the town house when amren and mor and rhys are kinda going at it a bit and cassian gets nesta’s attention and nesta sidles over to him without questioning it... like. god if they aren’t endgame i’ll never read an SJM book ever again and i wholeheartedly mean that.

so i’ve seen the posts about amren being an angel i’m not sure if you guys have but yeah i think that’s a really solid theory. i think she very well could be a biblical angel because she mentioned that according to some they were perfect, that they laid waste to twin cities (sodom & gamorrah if this theory is correct) and she also mentioned yielding her grace and that she would fall. she also says she was a messenger and soldier assassin for a wrathful god ruling a young world and all of that, in my opinion, lines up with a lot of what is in the bible and what christians believe to be true. so i really really like this theory, i doubt it will ever be outright confirmed, but i think this is going to be my canon tbh. 

elain is.... out of her mind. it’s fucking weird everything she says is so cryptic and odd. like it’s just weird. i don’t think she’s insane and i can’t remember exactly where elain’s storyline goes in this book but like... rn it’s just weird and cryptic and a little unsettling and also interesting that she only really responds directly to azriel because everyone else she kinda ignores but she talks to him. interesting. 

6) chapters 28-49 clearly i accidentally read A LOT so we have a lOT Of ground to cover. 

NESTA WAS TOTALLY CHECKING CASSIAN OUT AND THAT’S ALL I HAVE TO SAY ABOUT THAT.

azriel has fucking jokes, man. page 303 (hardcover us edition)  “That pine tree wasn’t there a moment ago.” “Judging by its size, i’d say it’s been there for ... two hundred years at least.” feyre even notes that he has a dry sense of humor and it comes out more when they’re alone. i can’t get enough of it. i wish he talked more. 

“Cassian finished the muffin, licking his fingers. I could have sworn nesta watched the entire thing with a sidelong glance. He grinned at her as if he knew it too.” i just love nessian so much i’m going to point out all of their cute reactions this is turning more into a nessian reaction thread SUE ME.

I think that nesta has a lot of regret and guilt over her life.over how she treated feyre because it comes out when nesta brings up to feyre that she didn’t know she couldn’t read (and again at the high lords meeting when she says they would have starved if it wasn’t for her.) i think she feels deeply and just doesn’t know what to do with it, doesn’t know how to express it. 

When they almost get taken in the library, and cassian gets there and nesta “launches herself at him.” my heart. she was scared and she didn’t care she was just so relieved. like fuck me up that’s the shit i like.

nesta asking where cassian is the moment they get back from the battle in adriata and she was worried and scared for him. later when she does see him i think this is when the mating bond clicks into place. it’s page 398 and she says “You didn’t come to -” and then cuts herself off. they have a really fucking intense moment. cassian takes her hand and laces their fingers and they don’t really say anything for a beat until he says “Next time, emissary, i’ll come say hello.” but his voice is low and rough when he says it. “The world seemed to go utterly still at that interrupted sentence, nothing and no one more so than cassian.” i think this is when it clicks for him. maybe not for nesta but definitely for cassian. 

RHYSAND RIPPING TAMLIN’S ABILITY TO SPEAK AWAY LIKE YES WE STAN A MOTHERFUCKING KING. fuck tamlin. fuck eris. and fuck beron. also nesta defending cassian in the high lords meeting (page 438, because beron calls him a bastard.) again, i’m just saying, she’s defending her fucking mate i can’t deal. feyre also exploding in the meeting and rhys just being like “You’ve proved your point, my love.” SO DELICIOUS. “I made her high lady because i love her. her power was the last thing i considered.” like fucking hELL that is how you treat your woman.

after the meeting, helion being like “You handing eris’s ass to him will be my new fantasy at night, by the way.” DELICIOUS. fucking hilarious. 10/10 recommend helion as a high lord and a mans we love to see it. 

also cassian being so concerned when nesta starts to have that feeling about the cauldron being used before the wall gets shattered.he didn’t doubt her feelings for a second, i mean no one did, but he was completely unyielding when he sensed her fear and immediately looked for any sign of an immediate threat.

nesta saying she’s never worn pants and cassian saying “i have no doubt you’d start a riot if you did.” he’s thinking bout that ass. also cassian giving her a quick lesson in defense before they yeet off to the human lands to see graysen and his family. IDK I REALLY LOVE NESSIAN OKAY?!

7) chapter 50-the end. i accidentally finished the book. oops. 

super intersted in nesta’s powers and if she is a witch. i can’t remember acofas at all and if nesta’s powers manifest in that book but i’m eager to see if the fracturing of the cauldron didn’t effect whatever powers she took from it. i think that could also be part of what ultimately is wrong with her on top of all the trauma. 

nesta helping cassian after that first battle when his wrist is hurt. she didn’t take no for an answer and helped him and it was just really soft until mor showed up and cassian pulled his hand away. i’m conflicted about what it means to be totally honest. what it means for his feelings for nesta and what it means where mor is concerned. i don’t love how morrigan treats nesta and cassian’s... relationship? but i don’t dislike mor. i think she’s dealing and coping and has her reasons that we will likely find out about. 

“Only you can decide what breaks you” is something i’d like to get tattooed. i dont really have anything else to add to it. 

i was sobbing during rhys’s battle speech to everyone. i dont rlly have anything else to say about it other than i’m emo. 

nesta saving cassian. again i don’t have shit to say about it other than like it makes me so emotional.  she just started blinding screaming, hoping that he would come. i can’t even begin to think what his death would have done to her.

the bone carver smiling at feyre before he did hits a very specific piece of my heart and i’m not sure why or what but i had chills all over my body. 

cassian telling rhys to let him return the favor/repay the debt. HURT. another thing i cried over. like shut the fuck cassian AIN’T NOBODY DYIN TODAY. 

tHE Nessian moment to end all nessian moments when they would die together. like big fucking wow. you can’t tell me they’re not mates. that they don’t love each other despite how complicated all of it is. like cassian is so soft in the most unique way for her because he knows she bites and he lets her and he bites back and i just think it’s what he needs.

“tell the high lord to leave out a cup for me” AMREN SHUT UP. like fucking christ i teared up then too because i really really love her character. she’s unique and funny and dry and cranky and i just love her so much. 

i’m tired of rhys sacrificing himself. there, i said it. i cried like a fucking baby and of course he woke up being a snarky little shit.

i love the end of this book. i don’t know what i’ll do with myself until january when the next one comes out. i’ll probably go back to the other format for my next read through because it’s easier and less longwinded and i think you guys liked the other way better. anywho, thank you for coming along on this lil journey!!

[goddessofthundathighs]

X. REVELATION

Word Count: 2.9K

*taps mic* Is this thing on? Aight, I know I said that I’d update CS every 3-5 business months, but life happened for both me & @hearteyes-for-killmonger. Let me just tell y’all how many times I wanted to completely scrap this book, simply because for a second, I fell out of love with it. I also thought that you guys were no longer interested. For our loyal readers, thank you for sticking with us! This chapter is fairly short, but MAJOR progression is made!

It’s also late, so this is un-beta’d. Any errors will be corrected in the morning.

************

Skylar’s face turned up in a wide grin as O’Shea came downstairs with her latest flower arrangement. If Oya wasn’t good at anything else, she was a professional at wooing her. The bright yellow of the freshly picked sunflowers was a beautiful contrast to the deep red hue of the roses. She’d forgotten that she’d mentioned that they were her favorites.

“With love, from Bae,” O’Shea read teasingly, only making the smile on Skylar’s face stretch wider. “And again I ask, why aren’t the two of you officially a thing? The mutual attraction is obvious and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this wide. Like you’re really flashing all 32 right now,” she asked, placing the vase on the corner of Sky’s desk.

“Because it’s not that easy, Shea. I have walls that need to be broken down and we both have issues that we need to work through. This is why SPT is so important. I have to understand exactly who I’m dealing with before we take things to the next level.”

O’Shea nodded. She hadn’t really thought about their situation like that. She’d just assumed that Sky was still working through ridding herself of Monica and was afraid of being heartbroken again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask about that. So is she Erik’s client now?”

“Yes. He’ll be her official therapist and draw up our plan of action as far as treatment.”

“Why does she feel like she needs treatment? She doesn’t seem to struggle sexually.”

“Looks can be deceiving, Shea. Behavior is also an indication that there may be underlying issues. Most of the clients that Erik and I treat are fully functioning. Look at you, for example.” Shea pulls a face. It was entirely too early in the workday for Skylar to be coming for her edges. She hadn’t even finished her acai breakfast bowl. “Aye, we not talking about me,” she fussed, placing her hands on her hips.

“But you fit the example. Personally, I think her excessive need to be sexual is a cover for something deeper, I just have to get her to tell me what it is.”

Sky couldn’t deny the soft spot she had for Oya. Even if things didn’t work out on the personal side of their relationship, she still cared for her and wanted to ensure she received the best treatment. Regardless of past situations, everybody deserved to be loved and accepted for who they truly are.

**

A pregnant silence engulfed Erik’s office as Oya and Skylar waited for him to speak. For the last 45 minutes he had been busy typing away at his computer, only pausing briefly to think before starting again. Once finished, he leans back in the Italian leather chair, stroking his beard as he gives the therapy plan a final onceover.

“Alright, before we begin, we first need to get to the root of the problem. Oya, why do you feel you need SPT and what do you hope to gain from it, other than my business partner as a mate?”

Ouch.

Oya recoiled slightly at his brashness. She hadn’t expected to be put on front street so quickly, nor was she prepared to discuss her history so soon. She suddenly felt bare, like she had been stripped of all of her clothing in front of a crowded high school auditorium and her anxiety was spiking. Skylar took notice of how withdrawn she’d become and placed a comforting hand on her thigh.

“It’s okay, Oya. You don’t have to explain in detail just yet, we just need a general idea of what we’re dealing with so that we approach it in the best way,” Skylar explained, the gentleness of her voice causing Oya to return her soft smile.

While she knew that there wasn’t a logical reason to be afraid of Erik or his opinion, her brain had been conditioned to be critical of men ever since that fateful night in her uncle’s basement. Still, having Skylar there was comforting. Her presence made it easier to generate a Spark Notes version of her past.

“I was abused and shunned as a child and as a result, became overtly sexual. While I know that sex can’t fill the void that was left from that experience, it’s the only way to silence the voices in my head. I started looking into SPT because I saw that abuse survivors can benefit from it.”

Erik’s face softened from its usual hard line. While he’d assumed this girl had been through the ringer, his mind couldn’t begin to fathom just how deep her trauma ran.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” he started. “Since it’s obvious that you’re a lot more comfortable speaking to Sky about this, how about the two of you do dinner. If not tonight, then later this week. During dinner, Oya, I need you to be as transparent as possible. I need you to go into full detail of what happened and then Skylar will report back to me. The two of us will formulate a comprehensive 8-week therapy plan, which will be implemented starting next week. Are you okay with doing this?”

Oya nodded, finally allowing herself to completely relax.

“We’re gonna get you right, Ms. Ramirez. Over the next 8 weeks you’ll watch yourself become a new woman, I guarantee it,” Erik smiles, offering her his hand to shake.

She accepts the invitation, returning his smile in the most infectious way before turning to Skylar.

“I know SPT doesn’t always require sex, but we can still implement some BDSM therapy, right?”

Sky laughs in response. Leave it to Oya to bring sexual humor into an otherwise serious situation.

“Baby steps, Ms. Ramirez.”

**

Oya's salmon arrived on the table and she licked her chops, having been out all day without eating. Why Sky had inquired about her level of hunger, Oya stated that her radiant smile was enough to fill her, however, the angry cry of her stomach told a different tale.

The pair opted for a Friday evening dinner, an excuse for Skylar to have a drink or two and not worry about having to work the following day. She sips her Hendricks and tonic slowly, savoring the crisp taste of the cucumbers she requested be added to the concoction.

Oya slammed face first into her plate effectively scaring the shit out of Sky who was currently rethinking a few things in regard to diet based on Oya's uncouth and grizzly attack on her fish. 

"Well. She eats fish like I eat pussy," Sky sighed, brushing it off. Still, she found herself keeping her eyes down to her own plate.

"I wasn't that hungry," Oya belched, wiping her mouth with her stained paper napkin. "I'll take another one still."

After her second fish, Sky was appalled at the way Oya had violated those salmon. She decided that she would also train Oya to eat like a human being and they would practice on a sushi date, since they require smaller bites.

“Alright fish murderer,” Sky finally chirps. “You’ve avoided the inevitable long enough, it’s time to talk.” Oya lifts her head slowly, much like a dog who has just been scolded for peeing on fresh carpet.

“Do we really have to talk about this? Like is it honestly necessary?”

“Yes, Oya. With all due respect, we can’t treat you if we don’t know what we’re treating. You gotta give us something.”

“I gave you something earlier,” she snaps defensively.

“Yes, but that’s not enough. There are several forms of abuse, Oya. Just saying you were abused doesn’t really tell us anything. We can’t use verbal abuse treatment methods to treat a victim of physical abuse. You understand that, right?” Sky asks incredulously.

Oya pinches the bridge of her nose in annoyance. She was beginning to regret even bringing up the whole thing. While she thought she was ready to expose this part of her life, fear and her anxiety were getting the best of her. She was beginning to close up again.

Just tell her, her psyche coaxes. 

“I was raped by my mother’s brother when I was ten. It happened nearly everyday for 6 months. It took everything in me to say something to my mother about it, but when I finally did, she accused me of lying.”

A lone tear slid down Oya’s cheek at the memory.

“From that point on, I haven’t been able to trust or fully commit to a man. Which is why I couldn’t talk to Dr. Stevens earlier. I know he means well, but --”

“It’s a work in progress, I understand,” Skylar interjects.

“To this day, she refuses to acknowledge what that man did to me, even though he’s currently serving a 20-year prison sentence for pedophilia. From that point on, sex was my escape. I know it sounds oxymoronic, but it helped fill the void and silence the pain. Even if the gratification was short lived.

Skylar takes her hand, offering a napkin to wipe the fresh tears that slid down her face.

“I think we should start slow. I’ll get with Erik, but I feel like our first few sessions should be meditation and sensate focus. I want you to be comfortable with touching and being touched in a nonsexual manner before we move onto more advanced methods. Are you ok with that?”

“I think so,” Oya admits. “I’ve been using sex to run from my demons for majority of my life. I don’t want to hide anymore.”

“And when this is all over, you won’t have to,” Skylar smiles.

“I still wanna be your sex slave at some point, though,” Oya jokes.

“Check please!” Sky laughs.

**

After several back and forth debates as to where the session should be held, the doctors finally decided that Oya’s house would be best.

“It’s somewhere that she feels comfortable, and therefore, it should be easier for her to open up,” Erik said once the final decision was made. Sky nods her agreement, texting Oya to alert her of the plan.

Sky: Instead of coming to my office, we’ll be doing the session at your house. Is that ok?

Oya: Ooh, I get the good doctor all to myself. Say less. Here’s my address

Skylar chuckles at her eagerness, adding the address to her Maps app for later access.

“She seems excited,” she tells Erik, pocketing her phone.

“For now,” he says, sliding a manila folder towards her. “She’s flighty, so her nervousness can come back at any moment. Make sure you keep her relaxed the entire time.”

“Why you talking to me like she’s my first patient?”

“Just making sure your head is in the right place. You’re typically behind the scenes. Patients like Oya can be tricky.”

“I got this, dad,” Sky groans, swinging her bag over her shoulder as she stands to leave.

“You better stop. You ain’t called a nigga Daddy in a minute, Nola.” 

“Goodbye, Stevens! I’ll let you know how things go.”

“Text me. I promised the baby brat we’d go to the carnival later. She’s been dying for a funnel cake and a new stuffie.”

“Aww, how sweet,” Sky beams, armed with new ammunition to tease Shea with once they were back in the office. After reading through the therapy plan for herself, she rests the folder and her bag in the passenger seat and heads home. She would need the rest of the night to prepare for the next day’s session.

**

The California sun beamed brightly as Skylar made her way to Oya’s apartment. It was a beautiful three bedroom, three bath unit in Playa Vista, not far from the beach. Skylar was immediately drawn to the brightness of the space, the white walls with soft marble and gold accents adding to the feminine charm.

“I was thinking we could do this in my meditation room,” Oya said once Sky was done with her exploration.

“Ooh meditation room,” Skylar squealed, following her into what would become her favorite room in the entire unit. Behind the curtain of strung selenite crystals lay a spiritual oasis. Two black Buddah statues sat on both sides of the entrance while pink, orange, and yellow pillows decorated the floor. They looked to be from Bali or some other spiritual region. On the east and western walls were sun and moon appliques, subtle nods to the orishas Yemoja and Oshun, while chakra posters and decorations line the southern wall. On an inverted bookshelf near the front facing wall lay her crystals, sage, and a small altar Sky could tell had been used recently.

“Okay, I already loved the rest of the house, but this room is a whole vibe,” Skylar compliments, pulling out her notebook and video camera. “It’s standard practice that these sessions are recorded, but if you’re uncomfortable being on film, I have a tape recorder.”

“No, the camera is fine,” Oya assured, taking a seat on the pink pillow. She sat Indian style with her palms resting on her knees. Skylar placed her camera between two rose quartz cathedrals, taking a few test shots to ensure the angle was perfect. Once done, she mimicked Oya’s stance on the yellow pillow across from her.

“It is the third day of March and the time is 3:33 pm,” Skylar says, beginning the recording.

“I see you, Universe,” Oya muses to herself, allowing herself to be consumed by the feeling of divine protection.

“We’re going to start with simple breathing exercises to get you relaxed and comfortable, okay?” Oya nods in response. “First I need you to sit up straight, but keep your shoulders and neck relaxed.”

Oya complies, rolling her neck to the sides to release some apparent tension.

“Now, close your eyes and visualize your happy place. It could be the beach or your bed, just wherever makes you feel the happiest,” Sky instructs, doing the same. “Now, breathe in deep through your nose, hold it for about five seconds, then release through your mouth.”

The two repeat these steps about five times before Oya is finally allowed to open her eyes. Skylar makes note of the sated look in her eyes.

“How do you feel?” she asks softly.

“Surprisingly, I feel really good. I do breathing exercises often, but I don’t think I’ve ever been this relaxed before.” “Good, that’s what we want. Now, we’ll move into sensate touching. I’ll need you to remove your jewelry and as much clothing as you’re comfortable with.”

Oya’s face turns up into a sly smirk.

“Are you getting fresh with me, Dr. Greene,” she teases, slowly removing the white Nike crop top.

Sky chuckles before answering.

“Quite the opposite, Ms. Ramirez. In sensate touching, participants are typically nude and free from jewelry. The method we’ll be practicing this afternoon is non-genital sensate touching, which means that I will touch every single part of your body except your breasts and your vagina. While sensate touching may cause arousal, it is important that you remain professional and focus only on your own sensations while being touched, understood?” 

“Aye, aye, captain,” Oya responds, saluting for emphasis. This makes Skylar giggle.

“I can already tell you’re not going to make this easy for me, Ms. Ramirez.” “I promise to be a good girl, Dr. Greene. You have my word.”

“Alright. This first session will be strictly me touching you with my hands. If this goes well, then we can introduce other elements, such as feathers, scarves, and even oils. If at any point you feel uncomfortable or sleepy, let me know and we can continue another time.”

“I’m not allowed to fall asleep?” Oya questions.

“No. It’s important that you remain awake and conscious through the entire experience,” Sky responds, positioning herself behind Oya. Slowly and deliberately, Skylar rubs her hands up Oya’s arms, starting with just her palms. She moves up to her shoulders and neck, alternating between firm and subtle pressure to the pressure points there.

“Mmm,” Oya moans softly. “You should consider massage therapy,” she coos, allowing her head to fall slightly.

“You think so?” Sky asks with a grin. “Yes ma’am. Your touch is very relaxing, Dr. Greene,” Oya shudders as Skylar’s fingertips dance up and down her back.

“Well I’m glad you think so, Ms. Ramirez.”

The session continues for exactly 33 minutes before Oya’s eyes start to droop. “Okay, I think we need to stop, otherwise, I’m gonna be asleep in your arms,” Oya says, her voice audibly more soft and relaxed than when they first began.

Skylar shuts the camera off and makes a few more notes in her notebook before putting her things away. Without thinking, she sits down beside Oya, pulling her so that she was cradled against her supple bosom.

“I don’t think I’d object to that much,” she beams.

Oya bites her lip softly before staring up into Sky’s big green eyes. She could see herself getting lost in them for days.

“You think you’re capable of fixing me? I’m damaged goods, Dr. Greene.” Her voice came out just above a whisper, her tone laced with vulnerability. Skylar smoothed her hair, tucking a stray curl behind her ear before delivering her heartfelt response. 

“A smushed Reese’s cup is still a Reese’s cup, Ms. Ramirez. And I happen to really like Reese’s cups.”

Oya’s smile spread across her whole face, a soft twinkle dancing in her eyes.

“I’ll be your Reese’s cup.”

**

@vikkidc @thadelightfulone @sydneebleu @blktinkerbell @madamslayyy @chaneajoyyy @jozigrrl @thehomierobbstark @ @iamrheaspeaks @mareethequeen @forbeautyandlife @whatmoredoyouwantamericaa @blowmymbackout @wakanda-inspired @yaachtynoboat711 @nickidub718 @heyauntieeee @princessstevens @bakarilennox @xaviera108 @alexundefined @raysunshine78 @dameshaemonique @laketaj24 @youreadthatright @theogbadbitch @bugngiz @amirra88 @post-woke @im5ftbutmythroat66 @blackpinup22 @maya-leche @blessyd-bthyname @unholyxcumbucket @eclecticblkgirl @kissmyafropuff @rick-sosa @jennajai @allhailqueennel @killmongersbaby @eye-raq @thickemadame @soulfulbeauty19 -

[rpbetter]

Hey there, check out this pinned post first!

Thanks for visiting Roleplay Better, where I believe that you can fucking do better! That kind of language, however, is why it is important for you to read this post before proceeding.

This blog and its posts are meant for an adult RPing audience; be over legal, adult age in the USA, 18+. Do not interact by submitting, asking, reblogging, commenting, or liking unless you are over eighteen years of age. By interacting with RPB or me, Vespertine, you are assumed to be following this rule. If you are breaking this rule, you will be blocked.

I have that rule because this blog can/will/does address topics inappropriate for a younger audience. Those can include, but are not limited to:

not safe for work - violence, injury, sexual language, smut, substance use

“dark topics” and themes like violence, unhealthy relationships, mental illness, trauma, graphic injury, dubious consent, substance use, and so forth addressed realistically

foul, sexual, and otherwise “Adult” language

 unpopular opinions and approaches about writing, RP, fandoms

“negativity” since literally anything can be, and my whole point here isn’t about holding back; it is likely that, at some point, in some post or another, a shoe will fit you-you need to be mature enough to handle that without taking it as a personal attack on you

images and links that may contain things inappropriate for a younger audience

this blog is founded upon the idea that fiction has reflections in reality, but that fiction does not utterly equate to reality. You should write with realism, your characters should be people in their own right, and you should absolutely be addressing many popular topics responsibly, which is to say realistically. I do not support or otherwise condone purity culture, so while realism is a big deal here, fiction = reality arguments are a no

seriously, you have no idea how fucking salty I am! I try to be fair, reasonable, and mellow with everyone, but it can and does come out.

This blog tags for common, major triggers, but it is not for those easily triggered or particularly sensitive. By proceeding, you take responsibility for yourself...like a mature adult. I expect you to utilize blacklist, unfollow, and block. Tag format is simple, it is literally just the word in most cases, with “cw” and “tw” added to particularly common things. Example, a post containing a breakdown of forms of dubcon will be tagged #dubcon #dubious consent. If that was specifically of a sexual nature, since tumblr is unfriendly to using Not Safe For Work now, I will be using #notsafe for sexual topics. In the event that this needs to change, it will be posted about, the previous tag left intact, so that you may update your blacklist.

You are always welcome to send me an ask or private message requesting a particular trigger be tagged for you. I try to check blogs I see following, especially if I follow back, so that I can tag what you require. However, I’m a person, I’m an ND, ill, busy person though, I do make mistakes!

If you find yourself desirous of telling me to tag in a hateful way, don’t. You will not be responded to with an apology and kindness. Do not be rude, it’s uncalled for when informing someone of a problem or making a request.

I will run the blog largely on a queue, and will not be following many people back. This is not personal! I just like to try to provide content at many different times, have a life elsewhere, and I am so happy that you love your fandom, but it might not be something I’ve enough interest in to have on my dash.

Don’t tumblr message me. Use the inbox or submit.

Due to recent events, I am changing this rule. It’s hard for me to receive messages unexpectedly, and I hate to imply that I’ll be able to get to these quicker because it isn’t the truth. Quicker, better responses come from the inbox. However, there have been too many incidents lately in which people needed to speak privately and had to make that a request. If you’re having a problem and need to vent, request sensitive advice, etc.? It’s alright, go ahead and drop me a PM, y’all. I’ll get back to you as soon as I am able. Please, do not be angry with me if I respond to inbox things or my queue is running! You’re important to me, I just might not have the requisite social cognition and energy you deserve at that time.

Aggressive inbox messages will be responded to in kind. I don’t care if you are on anon or not, if you haven’t an ounce of polite communication skills, I won’t have them either. This is not a “we don’t publish anon hate” blog.

I highly encourage asks and submissions on any and all RP topics, and it’s perfectly alright to be salty as fuck in them, you can totally vent here, but don’t take out your frustration on me or be demanding of me. I am always happy to help with information, advice, or just a response to your venting-it’s important to know someone is listening. However, it may take me a few days to a week to get to you, be patient. 

If you are going to vent, leave out usernames. This isn’t a callout or burnbook blog. It’s fine to state characters and fandoms, but if this becomes a problem, it’ll have to change. I don’t want this becoming a salt blog for one or two fandoms I very likely can’t even stand. Practice the fine art of alluding to things, its good experience for your writing! Besides, RPC problems are RPC problems, I promise. It might feel like it’s just your fandom, but there is something relatable in all corners.

I will not overly police comments. Keep the slurs and shit out of it, though. If there is an issue going on pertaining to a serious instance of hate speech, or behavior I, personally, deem as too inappropriate and/or immature to be taking place on my post, I will step in. Otherwise, I expect everyone to be adults in the comments and reblogs too. If you want to argue with each other, that’s your business. If you want to argue with me, I’m not sorry in advance.

Addition to the above: this is not a blog in which it will be tolerated that commentators or those submitting with the URLS are targeted for callouts, shaming, or other instances of bullying. No, I cannot make those people stop bothering you by blocking them, but the least I can do is address that by shutting down their access to this blog and it’s posts by blocking on the URLs I have for them. And I will. Fuck that “we can’t be responsible for” shit. It’s my blog, it’s my content I’m putting out there, I’m not going to just ignore shit like what went down over on COAR, thanks. Not. Cool.

This is definitely not a place for:

people who think giving muses labels, including top/bottom “dynamics,” is a good substitute for character traits, personality, and development

those with no reading comprehension skills

folks dependent upon aesthetics and aesthetics-based purple prose as filler for actual writing

anti-original character/just wants to fuck a FC or canon character club, get the fuck out immediately

y’all who see writing as an obstacle to getting down to action, be that smut, drama, or fight scenes...it’s literally a writing hobby

politics, any manner of phobe or ism, violent/non-inclusive feminists, purity/rpc/fandom/content police of any manner, and exactly any manner of racism, sexism, or religious intolerance - I give not a shit if it’s popular to hate the straights, for example, I neither believe in nor tolerate reactionary classifying of any group as blanket-statement evil

people who are going to tack onto my posts shit like, “it’s okay, OP, you can say x character.” Trust me, if I were talking about one character, I fucking would name drop them, don’t bring me into your fandom drama, I doubt I know or want to know who that anime guy is who looks like 12 other anime guys to me.

About Vespertine

You can call me that, Vespertine. I’d rather you didn’t go with Vesper, but as it is unfortunately so likely to happen, I won’t feed you to the dogs over it either. RPB Mun is also acceptable.

I’m alright with either she/her or he/him, they/them is also fine. Apparently, that was big enough clue-in for the poor reading comp crowd, so while I feel it is not of importance, I’m nonbinary, yes.

Late 30′s, chronically ill but still working adult with neurodivergence. I’m both busy and Busy, and always sick. This limits my brain power and ability to be here. I have an active RP blog that I won’t be sharing to keep responsible distance. That is always going to be my priority, it is my primary hobby.

Please, don’t tumblr message me totally random things if we don’t have that kind of relationship! I’m too ill and busy, and it really fucks my nerves to have a bunch of messages/have to suddenly interact socially with people. Don’t do it. Use my inbox, use the submit, comment on posts. I cannot do random messages of “hey” and so forth.

I only do written RP, don’t expect me to understand much of anything from tabletop. I’ve RPed for the last 23 years consistently, on every platform from AOL chats to forums to messengers and here. I also don’t do RP in discord, so I’m sorry, but I can’t advise you much on anything with a word count, except to stop it for serious RP. Other than that, I promise you that I’ve seen the trends, the drama, the fandoms. I can give a lot of advice and perspective on a wide range of topics, situations, and characters! When I don’t have a clue at all, I’ll try to do enough research to give you an answer.

Do I come off as a horrible, strict asshole? I do! I’m not going to say that I am just a shy bean who is more scared of you than you are me. I’m not. I’m honestly feral, but have common decency, compassion, and sense. All of which are lacking in the general RPC. So, if you can inbox/common/otherwise interact with anyone else on this site, you can totally handle me!

Honesty and openness are policies.

And in the spirit of that, I repeat; you can fucking do better, tumblr RPC!

[notgonnarememberthis]

find your way (back to me) - chapter six

Happy New Year!! Hope y’all are starting off the new year with health and safety for you and your families. Less than 2 weeks away from season 2 and I’m so fucking excited/anxious. Weird note, this chapter is actually the first thing I wrote for the entire story. I had the first part stuck in my head for a little over a month and threw out the concept to my best friend Em. They encouraged me to build the story and so far I’ve been so pleased with it and the reactions y’all have given. Thank you so much for reading and commenting. It really means the world to me.

Three days wears on the psyche, Gil notes in yet another confrontation report. It’d been three days since they’d found the car with Jessica’s phone inside and no sign of her except for her blood on the back window. Malcolm was quickly unraveling, it’s not hard to see. He’d slammed a reporter up against a wall for even suggesting that maybe the world was better off with another Whitly gone. With him visiting Martin the reporter got too close. It didn’t take much more for Malcolm to throw a punch.

He has two of his best cops tailing her children, taking much needed focus away. JT took on Ainsley almost immediately, after her snap with Endicott it’d become an unspoken agreement that she be kept an eye on. He has to bury his feelings every time he sees Malcolm’s hand shake uncontrollably, or when Ainsley comes back from the bathroom with her makeup absolutely perfect but her eyes still red and puffy from the tears she shed in private. It takes all of his power not to go to them and hold them close to his chest.

Every part of him aches.

Two bodies dropped since Jessica’s disappearance. Both had gunshot wounds to the back of the head. Malcolm had made the connection with the information from Martin, thank god. It didn’t take much more to connect the dots after that. They’re lucky Colette even considered it, but they were all desperate. Their time frame was 48 hours. They’re now at 56.

God, where is she?

“Oh my god!” He’s on immediate alert when he hears Ainsley’s scream followed by shouts of other officers. With his hand on his gun he races to where he’d left her and Malcolm earlier.

The room is in absolute chaos, JT is barely holding back Ainsley, her face red while she screams in protest. Several officers have their weapons drawn, Dani included. In the center of it all Malcolm stands with his hands extended, as if reaching for something.

And then he sees her. Her hair is disheveled; dirt and blood are smeared across her face. She’s barefoot, she likely lost her heels long ago. Her once white blouse is also caked in muck and grime. There’s a cloth wrapped around her thigh and one hand is cradling her side. Most startling, though, in her other hand is a knife stained crimson.

“Where is he?” She shouts, her eyes are wild. Gil’s not all that certain she even knows where she is.

“Mom, it’s me.” Malcolm steps a little closer.

“Bright, stand down.” Dani’s voice is a warning.

“It’s ok. She’s not gonna hurt me.” He breathes out slowly, as if trying to calm the entire room at once. “Give me the knife and I’ll find Gil for you. Okay?”

“No!” She springs back and the shouts erupt again.

“Lower your weapons.” Gil barks above the noise. All eyes turn to him, even Jessica’s. They’re reluctant but they obey.

“Mom.” Malcolm steps closer again, drawing her attention back to him. Her face crumples, truly seeing him now for the first time.

“Malcolm.” She sobs, the knife clattering to the floor. She pulls him into a tight hug, her voice barely carrying, “You’re ok. Thank god you’re ok.” 

“I’m ok?” Malcolm chuckles humorlessly. The hug is enough for all of the weight that had been on him to crash all at once. He buries his face into her shoulder his whole frame now shaking with the sorrow he kept so tightly wrapped for days. 

Once the knife is removed and bagged as evidence JT releases Ainsley and she crashes into the hug too. “Ainsley, baby.” Jessica’s voice carries as she recognizes the touch of her daughter. Her crimson stained fingers tangle in the blonde curls. He puts his gun back in his belt allowing himself to relax. He aches to join the embrace. Jessica lifts her chin and meets his eyes feeling his gaze upon them. Her face slackens, and he realizes just how pale she looks.

“Mom?” His heart drops at Ainsley’s tone, the two younger Whitly’s stumbling backwards with sudden weight. He’s on them in seconds, helping to settle Jessica gently onto the ground. The spot where she had been cradling with her free hand was spreading quickly staining her blouse red. In the embrace the cloth the she’d been holding to her fell as well. 

“Call a paramedic.” He orders shucking his coat off to press against the wound. She groans in pain, eyes widening. “I’m sorry, I know.”

“What’s happening?” Malcolm’s arms come around Ainsley, stopping her from coming closer. His hands shake, he’s closed himself off again holding him and his sister together at once. His eyes are glued to his mother, his face as red as Ainsley’s.

“Where is he?” Jessica asks again, this time pleading. His eyes flash to Malcolm, confused. “Please Gil you have to find him. I tried to get him out, I tried.” He shushes her trying to get her to relax.

“Who Jess?” Her fingers grip the front of his sweater, looking around terrified. “Hey, focus. Jess, who do I need to find?” It was too late, however, her eyes slid shut and her body slumped completely against him. He holds his breath until he feels her pulse against his fingertips, strong and steady.

“She just passed out.” Malcolm assures his sister after he likely saw the look of relief cross Gil’s face. The precinct seems to remain still until the paramedics arrive and take her away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“We collected three different sources of blood on Ms. Whitly.” Edrisa remarks, though slowly, her eyes on Malcolm the entire time. She’s worried about him being there, they all are. His insistence was to stay. With Jessica in surgery, it would be a few hours before she was released. “Her own, obviously being the first. But the spots on her face and blouse were of our fourth and fifth victims, Tommy Moore and Andrew Rankin. She was likely sitting in front of them when…”

“What about the knife?” Dani asks, she’s biting the inside of her cheek, almost regretting having to ask the question. Malcolm shifts, Gil knows all too well the scene flashing through his memory.

“The blood on the knife was Ms. Whitly’s. With the help of Dr. Garcia, who is the trauma surgeon who I met in the hospital, we determined a loose thread of events.” She looks to Gil and he nods for her to continue. “We are aware of the wreck, Ms. Whitly was showing signs of a concussion upon arrival at the station and in the hospital when she briefly regained consciousness before being sedated. She likely hit her head off the window during the wreck. This is conducive with the bruising and dried blood on her right temple.” Edrisa turns back to the board she was using to present her information swallowing. 

It wasn’t often that she presented the injuries of a victim who survived but after the events of today he’s exercising caution. He makes a brief note to check on her and maybe buy her lunch for her work. He knows none of this is easy but Edrisa is close to Malcolm. She understands him in a way that doesn’t quite make sense to the rest of them. She deserves to know that she’s appreciated.

“Then there’s the gunshot wound. It was likely received two days ago but opened up again when she escaped.” Gil bites the inside of his cheek thinking privately to himself. She’s lucky she didn’t bleed out. The old stab would on his own abdomen aches with the sympathy of that pain. One he wishes she never knew. “Next we have some yellowed bruising across her cheekbone and under her left eye. It suggests that she was hit. With the scrape on her cheek I would assume the perpetrator wore a ring when doing so.” She checks her notes again adjusting the glasses that slid down the bridge of her nose. “The large bruise on her forehead suggests that she hit her attacker. With her wrists and legs bound I would assume she headbutt him.”

Malcolm’s laugh catches them all by surprise. He shouldn’t get as much glee out of the moment as he does; but imagining prim and proper Jessica Whitly slamming her head against her captor is more satisfying than anything. “Sorry.” He mutters muffling a further laugh with his palm.

Edrisa relaxes slightly at that. “Finally we have the wound in her leg. She was stabbed, obviously. But the wound pattern along with some small cuts on her wrist suggest that she pulled it out herself.”

“She saw her opportunity. Her captor left the knife and she cut the ties around her wrists and ankles to escape.” Malcolm nods in agreement with Edrisa’s assessment.

“Holy shit.” JT mutters. “How the hell did she get back here without anyone taking her to the hospital or calling the cops?”

“That we won’t know. The doctors have my mother under sedation, for now. She’s undergoing her second surgery now, she’s severely dehydrated, and was delirious when she woke up in the hospital.”

“Shouldn’t you be with Ainsley?” Dani asks slowly. “Your mom needs you.”

“My mother needs me to find who did this to her before he strikes again.” Malcolm snaps. Dani grits her teeth but nods.

“What about the guy Ms. Whitly was talking about before she lost consciousness?” JT shifts, eyes combing over the file in front of him. “Do we have any idea who it could be?”

“We can only assume it is another missing person. Until she’s coherent enough to talk to us, we won’t know for certainty. Until we find the guys we are looking for I want detail on all of the Whitly’s until further notice. With her reaction earlier we can only assume that Malcolm and Ainsley were the next targets if Jess didn’t participate in what the killers wanted.” He turns to Edrisa, “Thank you Dr. Tanaka. Keep us updated if Dr. Garcia contacts you with any more information.”

“Yes sir.”

“Colette and her team are canvassing the area now. She couldn’t have made it far without being noticed by a concerned stranger. Dani, I want you and JT looking through missing persons. See if there’s any new disappearances that could be our missing man.”

“What do you want me to do?” Malcolm sits up straight, alert.

“We’re going back to the hospital.” He holds up his hand when Malcolm stammers to protest. “Ainsley needs you right now, more than anything. Not to mention once your mother wakes up she’ll need a face she can trust. Something scared her into coming here with a knife. I have a bad feeling.” Malcolm nods in agreement, though he still doesn’t look too pleased with the information.

He can’t shake the feeling in his gut that they’re missing some key information. He only hopes that Jessica will wake and tell them before it is too late.

[girlofmanyfandoms]

The Angel and The Siren

A/n: Based off of anon prompt that I’ll post separately so y’all can see that! Ily anon, that prompt was just *chef’s kiss*. Also I got a lotta stuff to do, so idk if this is good or not (it’s not)-

Word count: 2000

Warnings: idk mate, executive dysfunction kicked in and this happened

Writing taglist: @everyonehasthoughts @imaramennoodle @bookwyrminspiration @holesinmyfalseconfidence @percabetn @an-absolute-travesty  @linhamon-roll @holesinmyfalseconfidence @linhamon2 @a-lonely-tatertot @loverofallthingssmart @vibing-in-the-void @clearlykeefitz

Linh dozed off to the side before jolting back to life. Marella shot her a concerned look, but she waved it off to the side. She had to fight through this. Sophie’s lips were moving, but all she heard was the distant calls of the wind mixing with the cries of dawn. Off in the distance, she saw a flareodon glide from the forest to the ocean, it’s beak gracing the water just enough to cause a beautiful rippling effect. Yet still, the colors blended and blended together, the world nothing but a watercolor painting fading away.

“Linh!” 

“I’m alive,” she blurted out. 

“Yeah, I almost couldn’t tell,” Tam muttered, grunting as he helped her up from her near-fall. “You nearly passed out.”

“I’m fine,” Linh reassured him, putting a great deal of her weight on her brother’s shoulder. “I just... need a breath of fresh air.”

“You should probably head home,” Tam suggested, though it was obvious he was restraining himself. “I’ll update you when I get there.” 

Linh had an amused look playing on her face. “Tam, I’ll be alright, I’m just tired. I’ll take a walk and see how I feel, okay?” 

“But-”

“I’ll go with her,” Marella offered eagerly. She flushed, and began to correct herself. “Just to make sure she’s safe.” 

Linh’s face lit up and she grabbed her hand, grinning from ear to ear. Her guardian angel had arrived. “We’ll be safe!” Marella called before dragging Linh out of the house and down the porch of the vacation home.

They drew closer together, Linh examining Marella’s features in full. Oh, she was an angel alright. Her eyes held a sort of fiery determination that dared anyone to approach her, yet showed the upmost sympathy for those who struggled like her. For those who were weak and beaten down before they were strong and built up. Sunlight cascaded onto her, making her blonde locks swirl through the air like flames from a newly made campfire, warming everyone around her. Like a halo. 

Marella blushed and glanced to the side. “Is there something on my face?” Linh shook her head and leaned on her a bit, pulling her into a side hug as they approached the shoreline of the tropical island hideout. “You just have a pretty one.”

Marella scoffed. “You’re talking?”

“Yeah, I am.” Linh waded into the water, letting the tides bring her underwater, just to the point where her face was above water level, hair floating around her like thin sheets of sea foam. She sat up slowly, and started swimming farther from shore, stopping to beckon Marella. Follow me, the gesture called. The beautiful siren waited patiently, a strand of hair in her face with her head at a slight tilt making her look both shy and innocent, and sly but deadly. The angel was entranced, so she kicked off her boots and followed without hesitation.  

When Marella got close enough, Linh held her by the waist, ordering the water to surround them like walls. She pulled Marella close and guided her in a sort of slow dance, letting the tides carry them. Linh’s movement were fluid, and Marella followed her lead, trying to focus on mimicking her movements rather than her heart threatening to explode in her chest. 

Deep breaths, she thought to herself. She’s just doing this to keep Tam and the others off her back. Linh hummed, resting her forehead on Marella’s shoulder. “I wish there was something we could do about this.”

Marella panicked. She couldn’t have meant what she thought, or rather hoped, she meant. “This meaning...”

She broke their link, bobbing up and down with the waves, gesturing around her in a vague, fragmented manner. “All of this. The Neverseen, the Treaty with the other Intelligent Species, my parents, the matchmaking system. Everything. I didn’t ask for this. I just wanted to live my life, just like everyone else. But now the adults are cowards and force a group of teenagers, two of which were banished from their society for years, to save the world. I just-” She paused, her voice cracking as she looked towards the sky to blink back tears. “I just want to be a kid. Is that too much to ask?”

Even Linh, with her sweet and innocent front, was breaking. She was crushed, and broken, and in pain, and it tore Marella’s heart into pieces. “I’m so sorry. I-if you don’t mind me asking, what was that like? Like, what happened before you got banished?”

“I was a kid,” Linh smiles sadly in reminiscence. “An unhappy one, but a kid nevertheless. But when I got to Exillium... I became a monster.”

“You’re no monster.” Marella frowned. “And didn’t the group say that they feared ‘The Shade’ because he was protecting ‘The Hydrokinetic’?”

She chuckled in response. “That’s what they wanted you to think. The others were scared of Tam, definitely, but not before they were scared of me, and not for the same reason.”

Marella raised her eyebrows, daring to swim a little closer and lean on her a bit. “Care to elaborate?”

“I guess it would help to let something out.” Linh bit her lip in thought. “And... if there’s anyone I would want to tell first, it’d be you.”

She breathed for a moment, her action syncing with the swells of the ocean. “I got banished a week after the floods. We were going to Councillor Terik to see if there was any potential that would ‘save us from our fate.’ Terik said that he wanted us to meet with Quinlin and Livvy first, to view our records and check if we had any medical issues. We also had to go shopping for clothes, makeup, accessories, anything to make the two of us look different, like we were born separately. But since we both manifested relatively young, and we hadn’t gotten into Foxfire yet, we couldn’t control ourselves.”

“And that’s when the flood happened?”

“No,” she laughed. “If it were that simple, we wouldn’t have been banished. No, what happened was a combination of neglect, stress, panic, and misfortune.”

“So...”

“So something wasn’t supposed to be there, and we freaked out, and our powers crashed together and ripped the barrier open even further than it was getting.”

“It was already breaking?” Marella asked.

“It was old,” Linh shrugged, though from the way she was examining her damp clothes for lint, it was clear that the siren had told a white lie. She crossed her arms and looked down, presumably in guilt and shame, though most likely to fight off the wisps of pain and trauma that clung to her with a vengeance, like a ghost of who she once was. 

The angel was conflicted, but decided to take up her own strategy. She extended her hand. “Let’s get farther away from here. See what the jungle has to offer.”

Linh hesitantly accepted it, the walls descending slowly, soon at peace with the rest of their surroundings. A pulsing of emotions ran through her, a symphony from a past life. It confused her, but despite the vapor clouding her mind, she was able to make one clear thought.

Her hands fit perfectly in mine. Linh shook her head vigorously to clear it of those irrational ideas. She’d learned the hard way what getting close to someone cost. “What are you thinking then?”

“You said you’re stressed, right? Like you can’t be free?”

She nodded, eyes narrowing.

“Let me show you what freedom looks like.” Marella let Linh guide the two of them to shore, releasing all of the water trapped in their clothes and hair back into the environment. Doing an awkward hop to get her boots back on, she raced into the jungle, using her momentum to launch herself onto the nearest tree, managing to get her arms around the lowest branch. She swung her body up and let one arm hold her, using her other hand to aid her in letting out an ear-piercing summoning whistle. 

In a moment, the flareodon that had been circling the island landed on Marella’s arm like a hawk. Marella waved Linh over as it preened. “See? He’s free to go wherever he likes and do whatever he likes when he wants to do it; he’s got no calls of the sea binding him to a workbench and no looming duties of the hearth to dedicate his life to. And what does that make him?”

“A freelancer.”

“Free, Linh. That’s the key word. He’s free. And you will be too. You just have to have faith.”

“I wish I had that.” She sunk down against the tree opposite to hers, fiddling with a ridiculously large leaf that had fallen from a nearby plant. “And maybe there is some for you. But I’m a twin, and a previously banished one at that, and my life will be dictated by some stupid matchmaker trying to match me up with a stupid ‘powerful’ man that I’ll never love!”

The flareodon was startled by the quick escalation of her volume and took off. Marella, however, drew closer. “Is there a reason you know that you’ll never love that man?”

Quit the wishful thinking Marella! But still, her heart held hope.

“It’s based purely off of genetics,” she whispered, her voice betraying her.

“Linh, come on, I know it’s something deeper,” Marella insisted, bringing the girl to her feet. She diverted her eyes, refusing to even look up. “Answer me, please.”

“You know, you’ve got a lot of fire in your soul, Mare,” Linh murmured. “It’s admirable. But I think back and I analyze and there’s not a single thing like that about me. All I do is pretend to be an innocent little girl just to drag people down with me. There’s nothing admirable about that.”

“Hey, no one talks about my Linh like that, got it?”

My Linh? their minds screamed in unison. On one end, Marella’s cringe scorched at the edges of her mind. On the other, Linh was drowning in the overwhelming feeling she never dared to feel. Hope. Yet again, in the distance, she heard the wind throwing itself upon the raging waves. Though they weren’t raging anymore. They were systematically crashing together, a docile beat not so foreign to her combining with the whistling of the tree leaves to form the melody she longed to sing all along. Home. This is it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”

Linh tossed her leaf to the side, standing up with newfound confidence. “You didn’t. You don’t have to apologize for anything. In fact, I should thank you.”

Marella laughed nervously. “There’s nothing to thank me for.” She looked around for a change of topic. “It’s getting late, you should head home. Tam said he’d check up on you, he’ll get worried if you’re not there.”

“Tam worries no matter what.” Linh shook it off. “And besides, I don’t want to go home alone. I like... being around you.”

“I like being around you too,” Marella flushed. She glanced to the side and picked up a fallen hibiscus that was still intact, quickly braiding it into Linh’s hair. “There. Now you can have a piece of me wherever you go.”

Linh smiled sweetly, pulling Marella’s collar towards her and pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “I think I’d rather have all of you,” she breathed softly, before stepping back and holding her crystal up to the Sun.

“Thanks, babe!” she called, a smirk proving her pride as she stepped into the light.

Marella touched her cheek, in shock from the confession, as goosebumps travelled up her arms. Her other hand frantically searched her pockets for her leaping crystal. Biting her lip, she glanced to the side, having to squint as the sun began its journey to the other side of the world. Surely the crew wouldn’t mind if she slipped away too. Besides, there was something more important. The siren called. 

[doc-pickles]

Omg could you please write a one shot about Jo being involved in a school shooting? Set in the same universe as it’s nothing fun just to talk. You are officially my new favorite jolex author!!! Your stories are amazing!!!

AHHHHHHHHH!! I read this and screamed out loud and then wrote this in an embarrassingly short amount of time while ignoring all of my other responsibilities….. i’m really enjoying using prompts that y’all send in to further my INFJTT canon world because my brain is FRIED

i’m also trying to make AU! jolex’s life as dramatic as canon! jolex’s life clearly

Anyways, enjoy!! (also thank u for the compliment, it warmed my heart)

ALSO I HATE TO SAY IT BUT I GUESS I LOVE SEEING JO IN PAIN?? I PROMISE MY NEXT ONE WILL BE FLUFFY AND NICE TO THESE TWO

Aaaaaand if it wasn’t clear: TW// violence, injuries to minors, & blood 

"Did you say it? 'I love you. I don't ever want to live without you. You changed my life.' Did you say it? Make a plan, set a goal, work toward it. But every now and then, drink it in. Cause this is it."

Tuesday 10:56 AM

I love you, Alex. So much. 

“Doctor Karev, you’re being paged to the ER,” Alex looked from his phone to the nurse in front of him. He pocketed the phone quickly, not bothering to respond to the text from over an hour ago. “Doctor Hunt said he needs as much of the peds staff as possible.”

“Did he say why? I can’t really send my whole department down there.”

“No, sorry. It sounded urgent though.”

Alex groaned, picking up his chart and heading downstairs to talk with Hunt before he went and grabbed his whole team. It wasn’t even noon and Alex was done with the day. The last thing he wanted to deal with today was Owen.

“Hunt!”

Owen turned around at the sound of his name, a solemn look on his face. Alex could tell that whatever he was needed for was not a happy occasion. He sidled up next to the trauma surgeon, making sure he had his game face on for when Owen tried to get his whole damn team down here.

“What could you possibly need the whole peds team for?”

“For that,” Owen pointed at the television set behind Alex, prompting the younger man to turn and watch the news report playing on screen. 

“Reports are coming in that there’s an active shooter situation at Golden Hill Elementary. The school year started three weeks ago for Seattle Unified, a horrifying way to start off the year. We have at least three confirmed deaths and ten confirmed injuries, but no word on whether these are students or teachers. We’ll keep you updated as we hear more news.”

The chart in Alex’s hand clattered to the floor, his eyes glued to the television screen in front of him. His heart was beating erratically, eyes watching in horror as the news report continued on. 

Golden Hill Elementary. 

His mind flicked to this morning as Jo got dressed, brushed her hair, and walked out the door to work like it was any other day. Had he kissed her goodbye? Told her he loved her?

When was the last time he had kissed his wife? 

“Page Avery,” Owen didn't move at the request, prompting Alex to turn and repeat his words. “Page Avery! I will get your damn peds team if you page Avery down here right now.” 

Owen ran off, leaving Alex alone standing in the middle of the ER. He pulled his phone out, looking over his texts from Jo and almost losing it. 

Tuesday 8:15 AM

I want tacos for dinner

from the place downtown

with the really good green salsa???

You got it babe. I’ll grab it on my way home. 

you’re the best

love you

Love you too. 

Tuesday 9:42 AM

mmm pretty sure they’re putting us on a lockdown drill 

great I love wrangling third graders 

Tuesday 10:56 AM

I love you, Alex. So much. 

“Alex,” Jackson was running down the hallway, eyes wide with fear as he approached Alex. It was evident he had heard about what was happening and was probably just as scared as Alex. “Have you heard from Jo?”

Alex shook his head, Jackson confirming that he hadn’t heard from April either. Alex asked the nurse’s station to page the entire peds department down to the ER, doctors from other specialties filtering into the trauma bay with a sense of urgency that made Alex feel sick.

“First rig is three minutes out,” Owen yelled as he walked through the crowded trauma bay. “Bailey and Grey, I need you to triage. Avery, get any parents or spouses that show up out of the way. O’Malley, Karev, and all available interns, you’re unloading rigs with me. And someone call the blood bank!”

The team donned trauma gowns, each running off to where Owen had directed them. Jackson and Alex shared one last look with each other, unspoken promises floating between the two of them before Alex followed Owen out to the ambulance bay. George stood at his left and Owen at his right, both silent as the sound of sirens grew louder.

“Worrying won’t do you any good,” George mused as he settled one hand on Alex’s shoulder. His friend's presence was mildly comforting, knowing that if Jo was standing next to him he would be saying the same thing. “She’ll be here sooner or later, then you can worry. For now, just breathe and let’s do our job.” The first rig pulled in the bay, a little boy being unloaded and rushed into the ER. Alex watched as four more rigs came through, each carrying a child who seemed too small to have such big wounds. He helped direct the interns on where each patient should go, his mind working on auto pilot as he unloaded child after child.

Finally, an ambulance came in with one of the teachers, someone Alex had met before. He swallowed the sick feeling in his chest, his hand moving to grab Maggie’s as she looked up at him with a half smile.

“Hey,” Maggie’s voice was quiet as she struggled to breathe, an obvious gunshot wound in her right shoulder bleeding onto the gurney. “Tell Jackson April is fine, she’s triaging at the school. I haven’t seen Jo yet, I’m sorry.” Alex nodded, sending one intern to find Jackson and another in with Maggie as he let her hand go. The news that April was okay made Alex feel better, hoping that if she made it out then maybe so did Jo. Their classrooms were right next to each other, that was a good thing right? “Karev!” 

Alex watches the scene before him in slow motion. An EMT is running to the back of the rig, filling Owen in on details that Alex can’t quite hear. Owen pulls a gurney from the ambulance. The first thing he sees are the bloodied sneakers, now red but normally a bright white. He should know, he had bought the shoes last Christmas. The dark jeans and floral top come into view before he can see her face, eyes frantically searching for him.

“Alex!”

The world speeds up and goes back to a normal pace as Alex races forward, grabbing Jo’s hand and following her into the ER. He notes that the silky top she had complained about barely fitting this morning is now covered with blood and stuck to her protruding stomach. The sight makes Alex’s heart come up to sit in his throat, uncomfortable and jarring as he stares down at his wife. He barely registers Owen nodding to him, releasing Alex to be with Jo as they head into the ER.

“I’m fine, I promise,” Jo assures Alex as she’s rolled towards an empty triage bed. “April loaded me into the damn ambulance. This isn’t my blood… I’m fine, I’m not injured, I promise.”

Alex dismisses the intern with them, promising that if they have issues he’ll go to Meredith. He draws the curtain around the area they’re in and turns back to Jo, whose fingers are fiddling with her wedding rings. The silver bands are bloodied now, prompting Alex to grab Jo’s hand with his own and tilt her head up to look at him. 

“Are you really okay?”

There was silence for a moment before Jo shook her head and began to cry into Alex’s embrace. 

“My classroom was safe but there was a little boy in the hallway and he just… I went out after the drill lifted and he was barely breathing. I picked him up and I held him and...,” Jo sobbed, one hand coming to rest on her bulging stomach. “I watched a child die and I was grateful it wasn’t me or our daughter. What’s wrong with me?”

“You’re a human being, you’re allowed to have feelings,” Alex brushed his hand against Jo’s hair, his fingers running through the locks. “I’m relieved too, that you’re here in my arms and that our baby is okay. And it’s hard to think about what happened to everyone else, but you have to look at the bright side sometimes. You’re here and you’re okay and that’s enough for today.”

Jo curled into Alex’s side, arms wrapping around him tightly as he rubbed circles into her back. Nothing was okay, it probably wouldn’t be for awhile, but Jo had Alex and a healthy baby to go home to. She had survived a shooting, kept her class safe, and walked 24 third graders outside their parents. So some things were enough for Jo, just for today at least.

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

California

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x OC

Warnings: PTSD

A/N:  We’re coming out of the angst mood and this will be the last wholly flashback chapter.  We return to present day in Part 8.  Doesn’t mean there won’t be flashbacks, but the action is now moving forward!

And I can’t believe the number of people who have followed this blog in the last week or so (has it only been that long?) and the people who are liking the posts.  Y’all know how to make a girl feel good. :)

Reminder: I haven’t seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, so I’m just using the Wikia, IMDB.com, some gifs, and my own weird ass brain to make up this whole ass story.

Tag List:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @tarrevizslas , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1]  [PART 2]  [PART 3]  [PART 4]  [PART 5] [PART 6]

Part 7 

Road to Recovery

It was the sharp yelp and half sob that startled nurse Cider at her desk. Looking up she realized the sound came from her only occupied bay.  She got up and walked into the room to find Sirah laying awkwardly in the bed, tears trickling down her face.

“You tried to move again, didn’t you?” the nurse asked.  She didn’t need an answer, she already knew it.  She was just being polite.  Sirah gave a slight nod.  She’d been fully conscious for only forty-eight hours, but every moment of it was a cycle of pain and then calmness as the drugs kicked in.  She was in the pain portion of the cycle.

“It’s so hard to breathe, Cider.  I just can’t seem to breathe.”

“I know, honey. Let me get you more comfortable and see if that helps a bit.” Cider stepped out and waved over another nurse.  They came into the room and each grabbed Sirah under her arms to pull her gently up. But something about the way they held her made their patient go rigid with fear.

“NO!” She cried out.  “NO, don’t take me!”

For a moment, she wasn’t in the med bay, instead her mind was suddenly back in California and trapped in the fear she felt while captured.  She started shaking violently and both nurses dropped their hands.  Cider reached out and touched Sirah’s forehead gently, calling to her.

“Sirah, honey, it’s okay.  It’s okay. It’s just me and Tea.  We’re here to help you, it’s okay.”  Cider rubbed her palm on the woman’s forehead while grasping her hand with the other.  After a moment, Sirah’s eyes looked over at the nurse and seemed to refocus.

“Good, honey.  Good.” She kept her voice calm and even. “Tea and I are going to help you move, remember?  We’re going to put our hands back under your arms and under your legs.  And you’re going to be more comfortable.  Yeah?”

Sirah nodded and this time, while keeping her eyes focused on Cider, she let the nurses move her.  Soon she was shifted higher and suddenly she felt as if she could breathe again.  The nurses tucked her back in, took a few vitals, and patted her hand before they left.  While they worked, in the shadows outside the room stood Champ.  As the nurses passed him, he paused before entering the room.  Looking at the ceiling, he took a deep breath and willed the tears from his eyes before walking in.

Normally, the man was larger than life, standing taller than most of his agents physically and bigger than everyone else through his personality. But when Sirah laid eyes on him, she noted he looked smaller, older even.  He sat down next to her bed and took her hand, cradling it to his cheek.  She let the tears stream down her own as his warmth seeped into her hand and then into her heart.  She was home again.

---***---

She had been in a coma for several weeks as the med team worked to fix what they could, but once she woke up, the reality of what happened to her began to set in for the team.  The trauma of her experience wasn’t something she had been trained to handle and she spiraled deeply into this scary new world as the days passed.  Soon the personality that inspired Tequila’s Shirley Temple nickname was gone and in its place was a woman full of fear.

One day after Ginger had visited for some time, Sirah cried pitifully when her friend left.  She curled into herself the best she could, thinking her friend was never coming back.  The abandonment compounded everything.  

Champ and Dr. Licuados consulted daily with the in-house therapy center about the situation.  A therapist was assigned to her, code named Orange, but in the early days there wasn’t much either doctor could do to ease the pain and fear.  The three watch as Sirah nearly become a ghost of herself.

Her friends were sick to their stomachs at the change and tried to do whatever they could within their power to help her through it.  After the event with Ginger, the four of them agreed to take turns being with her.  Just being in the same room was often enough for Sirah most days, so they’d bring work or field reports or even just books to pass the time.  

Ginger took the mornings, Tequila took the afternoon shift, and Champ stayed by her side in the early evenings.  But Jack was the one to stay with her at night.  Seeing his sleeping form on the couch next to her brought her immense comfort and often, she would reach out and touch his hand with hers.  Every time, even dead asleep, he grasped hers in return and never let go.

---***---

A month after she woke from the coma, the doctors agreed to move her to a private therapy bay to continue her recovery.  Her cuts had scarred over, her burns were stable, and the breaks and fractures were just about healed.  She was able to begin the next phase of her healing and the days took on more structure. 

Physical therapy in the morning with Tequila there as her own personal cheerleader and sometimes Ginger when he was out on assignment. Regular therapy with Dr. Orange in the afternoons, and in the evenings, Jack came “home” to stay with her.  Champ made it a special order to have lunch with her daily and sometimes his wife would join them.

Her recovery probably wouldn’t had gone as well as it had were it not for her friends.  The love and support they provided guided her through the dark moments.  One night, after she had been cleared to take a shower, Sirah stood beneath the water, relishing the feeling of being clean. Without thinking, she turned her face upwards into the spray and immediately her brain was flooded with the memory of her water boarding.  

She pulled back, gasping and cried out before she fell against the shower wall in terror.  Immediately, Jack rushed into the bathroom, calling her name.  He pulled back the shower curtain and found her sitting on the floor, crying and shaking with the memory.  He turned off the water and dropped to his knees.  He wrapped her in his arms and held her against him. Nothing he could say could reach through to her, so instead he rocked her body as she cried.  It cut him to the core and broke his heart into a million pieces. Soon she quieted down, and her arms snaked around his waist.

“Moonshine, let’s get you cleaned up.”  She nodded and was patient while he soaped up a rag and gently cleaned her.  He rinsed and dried her off before helping her dress.  When he got her settled in bed, he texted Tequila to come take his place. When he arrived, Jack outlined what had happened and said he needed to step out.  Tequila clapped a hand on his shoulder before sitting down on the couch. If Jack needed a minute, then dammit, he was getting one.

Jack ran down to the training room and turned on the lights.  He rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles as he walked over to the punching bag.  He took a deep breath and threw out his right arm.  The contact stung but it didn’t stop him.  He took the rest of his anger and grief out on the bag.  He eventually collapsed against it, exhausted, but calmer.

---***---

“Orange. . . can I talk about that night?”  Sirah sounded hesitant, but the therapist gave her a reassuring smile. Half a year had passed since California and Sirah now found herself curled on the end of her couch, wrapped in a blanket. The therapist sat at the other end, leg drawn up and facing her.

“Needles.”  Sirah looked out the window.  “I could smell the needles of the redwoods as I laid there. . .”  Their talk continued and several times, Sirah broke down.  She cried for Malbec and Sherry, the agents who were her friends.  She cried for herself.  She just cried all the tears she couldn’t while captured.  And then she talked some more.  

After nearly three hours, she felt exhausted, but lighter.  Facing California was hard, but each day seemed to get easier.  Dr. Orange told her to sleep a bit and left the apartment.  But for the first time in weeks she didn’t dream of pain or of fire or even of a dead woman’s eyes.  Instead she dreamed of New York City.

“Jack, are we sure this is correct?” Sirah looked at the notes sent from HQ regarding the case.  They sat in his New York office reviewing files and she scribbled notes in the margins.

“I’m sure moonshine, I don’t think Tequila would send us incorrect notes.”  Jack flipped through the file in front of him before turning back to the computer.  He updated a few things and went back to the file. Sirah picked up the notes she made and gathered a few more items.

“I’ll be right back. . . .” her voice faltered as she looked out the window.  He turned to see what captured her attention.  Blocks away from where they were at, fireworks lit up the sky.  She walked over to the window in a sort of trance, mesmerized by the beauty of the scene – the brightly colored fireworks against the dark sky and the surrounding glow of the city.  Jack walked up behind her to watch, too.

Without thinking about it, he laid his hands on her shoulders and his chin on her head.  She sighed and leaned back into him, eyes still on the display.  He dragged his hands down her arms and wrapped her close against him.  She melted into him and they stood in comfortable repose until the display ended. The sky darkened again, and the sounds of the city were no longer muffled.

She turned in his arms and pressed her face against his chest.  Her arms came up around his waist and she clung to him.  He shifted and kissed the top of her head.  She smiled into his chest and sighed again, this one even more contented than before.  She eventually moved out of his arms, dragging her hand across his chest as she walked around him.  He caught the smile on her face, and one grew on his own.

“I’ll be in the library for a bit.  I want to check up on some things.  Can you wait a few hours until I have more information?”  She looked at him.

“Moonshine, I’ll always wait for you.”  She beamed at him and slightly nodded her head before taking her items and walking out the door.

He’d wait a lifetime for her if he needed to.

---***---

She woke up from the dream with a contented smile on her face, an event that hadn’t happened since before California.  As she became more alert, she realized she was alone.  Everyone worked to keep a similar schedule as before even after she moved back into her home and when she looked at the clock, she noticed it was close to dinner time.  She asked Champ to come to dinner and as if her mind conjured him, he walked through the door, knocking as he entered.

She smiled as he sat down and laid out the dinner his wife made.  He also handed her a lumpy package that had her name scrawled across it.  She opened it and while he went to get plates, she pulled out a beautifully thick navy sweater.  It was oversized and the sleeves were longer than normal.  

Once she was cleared to wear regular clothing, Sirah had taken to completely covering herself.  She was self-conscious about the scars all over her body and while the logical part of her brain said no one would care, she still did it anyway.  Champ’s wife was a quiet woman, but she was observant and smart as hell.  Champ wouldn’t have married her if she wasn’t.  The sweater was something that would give Sirah the cover she wanted with much comfort.

“Champ, can we talk for a moment?”  She sounded serious as he returned and sat down next to her.

“Of course, honey.  What do you need?”  The voice was kind and she found herself feeling ever grateful she had such love around her.  It’s why she knew she’d get passed this.

“Don’t call me Sirah anymore.”

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep8: Magic Mai

So fun fact, I was out of town around this Thanksgiving and I grabbed a laptop from my Dad’s stack of machinery he’s sort of collected over the years and lo and behold--he put Linux on it.

Like I dunno if you all can relate to this problem, but everything he touches turns into Linux and he’s trying to live this Windows free/Mac free lifestyle, and I get it, I’m friends with so many vegetarians, but like I hate this laptop. I'm using Gimp to make these screenshots...So I can re-do them later in Photoshop because...it just doesn’t feel right to put Papyrus on this computer. It already has Linux. This poor machine has suffered enough. Long story short, this’ll be a small update because right clicking on linux is ass.

Also, because I was on a laptop and realized how small my blog is for the first time--I don’t have control over the size of pictures in text posts, tumblr does, and in this particular theme it’s not allowing me to change the size, and so do me a favor. Click ctrl and + at the same time a couple times (I’m assuming most of you are on firefox). There. the pictures are the right size now. If you hated that, you can click ctrl and - but like lets be real, my font is occasionally...tiny.

Anyway, we start discussing this episode on the confusing legs of the last one, where Mai is evil now, and it’s really not entirely clear if she’s possessed or if she’s just always been this way, or if she just FEELS like it.

And that’s all this episode is about, start to finish--is this Mai’s choice or was this not Mai’s choice? The answer is the same as it would be for a normal person: it’s complicated. Maybe it’s everybody’s choice. Maybe it was because no one did anything that Mai went completely haywire? Maybe it was because Mai hid how she was feeling so no one had any idea she needed help? Or, overall, maybe Mai is kind of a toxic person and wanted to be this way? Especially while she’s on children’s cartoon card drugs?

(read more under the cut)

So to start off, a weird thing happened at the beginning of this episode. After about 4 seasons, someone finally mentioned this:

How many seasons has Yugi been talking to himself? Like, out loud. In front of everyone and Kaiba? This whole time, right? Like Valon just dashed my headcanon where I figured Yugi was smart enough to think his thoughts instead of speak his thoughts. He’s just not that smart, unfortunately.

Meanwhile, Mai has managed to attract this other (teenager?) guy and like...to go worse than Joey so quickly is kind of shocking. Mai just seems embarrassed by the amount of very young boys in love with her. And she’s not even a cougar about it, she doesn’t really seem to want this to happen but it keeps on happening.

And although he is essentially the card form of a drug pusher, Valon has this soft spot for a girl I guess to give him some sort of redeemable flaw. However, she only wears tube tops and minis and spends like hundreds of dollars on her hair, so it doesn’t really make him seem any less shallow, tbh.

PS I’m surprised, that unlike all the other characters on Yugioh, I can’t just type in Valon’s name into Google and get his age and weight. No idea what his age is, and if you know, feel free to tell me but he just seems...exactly the same age as Joey. He seems very 17. Maybe it’s the obsession with motorcycles and children’s playing cards? Maybe it’s his big ol childlike eyes? He just seems young and niave like how a teenager who just fell in love with a very angry older woman would.

Joey tries to remind everyone, multiple times, that this game is the worst idea ever since it requires one of them to super die, but Mai is on card drugs so I don't know why they bothered. Also, why is Joey still surprised by this after 4 seasons of this?

Yo it’s S4 and Mai witnesses magic non-stop but still has basically no idea how it works. She really did say “I have no soul” and it was like...I’m 90% certain she literally thinks she has no soul right now. Which I guess, statistically speaking, is rare to actually have a still intact soul after hanging out with the main villain, with the way this show typically goes.

Meanwhile, last episode it really sounded like Duke Devlin was driving to Pegasus’ company building. It really sounded like he would have gone directly there, since Weevil and Rex told him that Yugi was going to Pegasus.

Remember that Duke Devlin works for Pegasus and probably has his own parking spot.

So where did he go instead?

You know how there’s only one gas station in the entirety of America?

I can’t believe it blew up.

Y’all what is the red splotch in the middle of the pile ps? That is legitimately a pile of blood, right? I didn’t shop that in. There’s just a red puddle in this kid’s show.

Y’all what is that? Like was there a scene with a red handkerchief that I missed? Is that a red handkerchief?

But to move past the mysterious pool of blood that confirms those bikers are so hella dead, I have no idea why Duke was here, I have no idea how he got the tip off that Yugi visited this place, but then he turned around and went back to SF so like...I guess he’ll arrive 3 days from now because again, they are in Arizona. They keep telling me this is right outside SF but like--Mesas. There’s Mesas.

And then this happened.

That one guy on the writing staff who just stans Seto Kaiba so hard got into the drawing room, I see.

PS someone had to pose for this shot for them to draw this shot from this angle.

Meanwhile, lets see why Mai turned evil. Ah, because it is Yugioh, the biggest reason is that she has no friends (probably because she’s got the most acidic personality known to man) and isn’t card popular enough and got super bitter and jealous.

Speaking as an artist who is online, I can understand the frustration here. Sometimes (99% of the time) you work really hard and no one cares and you get like 2 notes. And honestly, why should they? Like, why do you do it in the first place?

Mai echoes a lot of the issues of Seto last season, where she wants so badly to be the absolute best to prove herself to the ghosts of her past who really don’t care any more.

But, since Mai was in a coma when Seto got through all of that, I guess she never got the memo and still seems stuck on just wanting to be the best with no other reason than “to be the best” which again, sounds so much like art school problems. This is everyone who has ever had an interest in animation. We all go through that phase.

Generally we don’t take peoples souls as a reaction to that type of discouragement, but then Mai made sure to mention in almost a foot note that she did spend like an entire season and a half trapped in Marik's shadow realm. And that kind of effed her up in a really big way.

Thanks, Marik.

Really feels like Marik should be dealing with this problem--really feels like maybe Marik is the only person that we can actually point to and say “Oh yeah, that guy is to blame for Mai right now” And he is the only person that Mai does not actively go out and try to kill.

And I’ll have you know I just deleted like a 15 K word rant about the difference between character assassination and your character just--evolving into a jackass, and how it’s OK to have your character change into a jackass, especially after trauma. I felt this need to really have to defend this ancient writing technique that people have been using since about as long as stories have been around.

Then I remembered “Oh yeah, I’m just making this point because a few number of very loud idiots on the internet want to have very lukewarm hot-takes about popular characters solely because they enjoy baiting people on twitter into getting into week-long arguments that don’t go anywhere.” and I just...let it go. I let it just...go into the ether. Ah. The peace that comes when you already know you’re right.

But anyway, back to Yugioh, which thankfully doesn’t take a stance on this nuanced subject, and only presents this very serious problem without actually offering a solution (because there isn’t a one fit’s all solution to falling off the deep end and getting into drugs and murder), Mai decides to just go and blame this decision she made on anyone else. Because, why take responsibility for your actions, when you can pin it on people who were on the other side of the freakin planet when it happened?

Like, I just want to remind y’all that she was in ATLANTIS.

I wonder how good the cell reception is in ATLANTIS.

I just...Mai is like in her mid twenties maybe thirty’s. She’s so arbitrarily old that she plays Yugi’s Mom in the video game spinoff where they’re reincarnations of medieval times. That’s how old she is.

Imagine if you made some epically BAD decisions because you were jealous of some teenager’s success and didn’t want to be weak anymore, and then you confronted those teens, and said “This is all your fault.”

Imagine looking someone as dysfunctional as Joey Wheeler and telling him “You made me like this” because lollllllll

And I present this as a joke but like basically this happens all freakin time. We’ve all had a friend like Mai. Past tense of course, because it’s really hard to keep a friend like Mai for very long. (One of my friend’s who went Mai destroyed my apartment one summer and then literally blamed it on me for going to California for 2 months and leaving her unattended.) But like...don’t let Mai’s do it to you. They can get better, but only if it’s their choice, really. You can’t force them to save themselves.

But, as Mai was finally ready to give up cards and probably improve her quality of life by a huge degree, unfortunately, she got sucked right back into the trap.

Bro note: being a serial murderer cultist is basically working at McDonald's in this universe so maybe this wasn’t even that weird?

But that aside, this is alllllmost like a dark version of “Mai got into an abusive relationship to fill the void in her heart” except she’s not even really dating this guy? Like she hates this guy? He’s just kinda there?

Y’all I really can’t tell if Valon is in an abusive relationship with Mai who is using him for power or if she’s in an abusive relationship with him because he only wants her pretty face and wants to kill Joey because Joey liked her once--and maybe it’s both? Maybe both of these people are just...really bad for each other?

Overall Joey is kind of tossed into this not-a-love-triangle and I’m like

“Hey show? show? Am I supposed to....were any these people ever dating? Is there supposed to be an implied history? Am I supposed to get attached to this?” because I mean...the only character who was able to get some actual physical romance on this show was Pegasus when he macked the ghost of his dead wife because, again, Pegasus is the freakin king of this entire show. Of course HE can do it.

But have this show clarify what the hell is happening between Valon and Mai? I’m gonna take a bet that we will never get to see it beyond Valon being like “Ain’t she a beaut!” Like Steve Irwin talking to an alligator, and Mai just pretending he doesn’t exist. Yugioh romances are so completely one way every single time. If something more than that happens, I’ll be

shook.

Anyway, as all the children on the show keep repeating over and over again, they haven’t had any contact with Mai since she left the freakin country and they went back to High School.

And so someone threatens to kill himself, as is Yugioh tradition, and someone else barks at him to NOT kill himself, as is also tradition, and they decide to play real cards next episode.

This whole entire episode, PS, Joey went out of his way to just...not play cards. that was this whole episode. Way to draw out a card game over three episodes, I guess.

Anyway if you want to read these from the start you can do so by clicking the link here