#My first choice used to be “put up with the abuse and make myself as sick as possible until someone notices and rescues me”

[nyenyel]

Just here to happily announce that I feel less trapped and less useless and less weak and I might actually find a way to get away from my abuser!!

[miley1442111]

thank god for dr. spencer reid

a/n: this was written with a fem!reader in mind but imagine what you want, reader has a period (same girl) :) spencer us such a cutie in this :)))))))

summary: your shitty family is in town and spencer is away, what will you do?

pairing: spencerreid x reader

warnings: heavy family issues, mentions of stress and sickness, very brief mention of abuse (litch not talked about just referenced dw), kinda cursing (just realised i've never warned this before... opps) and i might've missed some!

My eyes are glued to the screen with a perpetual frown playing on my lips. It’s hard to try to care about my job when I have this looming feeling of dread hanging over me like a cloud. Spencer has been MIA for days now. He left in a hurry on Monday night for a case. It’s Saturday now and he hasn’t been responding to my calls. On top of that, I have dinner with my mother and father. Both of them make it abundantly clear that they’re disappointed in my career choice, which is ridiculous because I’m a lawyer. Not the right kind of lawyer they constantly say. I’m an environmental lawyer and I make good money. The only way to satiate their insufferable whining is with Spencer. They love him. They probably love him more than me at this point. Alas, I will just have to deal with them alone tonight. And today has already been one hell of a day. First, Morgan called me,asking where Spencer was, telling me that they finished and that they should be home soon. He had not come home yet. Secondly, I feel like shit, an allergic reaction, my period and some random nausea all add up to making me feel itchy, gross, and practically vile all over. Thirdly, a huge pimple has decided to pop up on my face and  just know my mother will comment on it. My mother is one of those women who look effortlessly put-together 24/7. I am not one of those women. She does not like women who don’t look effortlessly put together. Aka, she barely tolerates me. 

I sigh and close my laptop screen, unable to reread the same few sentences again and again, hoping that they would get into my brain. I’m defending a client, one of my firm's biggest clients, in court next week. They were accused of illegal dumping (dumping they did not commit) and now they’re being sued for 2 million dollars. I slump out of my desk chair and out of my home office, locking it behind me for the weekend ahead. If I have court next week and Spencer is coming home after a difficult case, then we’ll need a day or rest and relaxation together. That is, if he even bothers to come home. I busy myself with getting ready and try to push those thoughts out of my head. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last hour of my life has been 60 minutes of absolute misery. Why did I ever accept this invite? My mother excuses herself to the bathroom and my father excuses himself for a cigarette, I nod along. Then it hits me… my dad doesn’t smoke anymore. I stare at the door and before I can stop myself my face contorts into a frown once again. Amelia, my sister. The sister that I haven't seen in years. The sister that bullied and abused me throughout our teenage years. Fuck. 

“Amelia?” I question, looking at the blonde woman who looks… different. She’s obviously older than I remember, and a bit more… I don’t know how to put it. Her blonde hair surpasses her waist and she seems to be pregnant? Her blue eyes seem dull and lack a certain vividness they used to sparkle with. She’s the typical peaking in high-school mean girl who became a nurse girl. I honestly can’t believe I used to look up to her. 

“It’s so good to see you!” She smiles, one of her fake-bitchy smiles and I grimace as she tries to hug me. “I just wanted to know how you’re doing, especially with the baby on the way, I’ll need all the help I can get!”

My heart drops. “Oh!” Is all I can manage. She sits in the seat beside me and I instinctively move further away. Just as I think this stupid dinner can’t get any worse, her pervy fiancé, Johnny, walks in.

“No Spencer?” He smirks. “What? Did you two break up? He was always too vanilla for you, you need a real man-” 

“No, sorry. I was just late. I had to come straight from the jet,” Spencer smiles from behind him. My parents' eyes light up, as Amelia and Johnny’s faces fall. I smile appreciatively at him as he hands the flowers he brought over to my parents and sits beside me, a comforting hand on my thigh. 

“How’s work, Spencer?” My father asks, his undivided attention on Spencer.

“It’s good, strenuous but good. Our cases recently haven’t been too difficult- though there was one that had a puzzle I thought you might enjoy…”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I walk inside our house behind him, a million thoughts at once flowing through my head. We walk to the kitchen, he sits me down and takes off my shoes for me, a true gentleman. 

He presses a kiss to my cheek and smiles. “You look beautiful.”

I just nod back, a small smile on my lips. 

“Is everything alright?” He asks, turning to me, his hands resting on my waist. 

“Fine,” I tiredly smile. “Just… you know, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You know, saying that makes me worry more, right?:” He smiles softly, though we both know he’s serious. 

“I just… I can’t believe she just showed up, like 7 years  of not seeing her and she just shows up? Like it’s casual? And then asks for our help with her baby? Like she did nothing to me? Like she-” I stop myself, determined not to cry right now. 

“Angel, it’s ok, let it out,” he soothes, a hand on my back, rubbing comforting circles. 

“I don’t want to cry though, they’re not worth crying over.”

“Then how about we get ready for bed, yeah angel?” He offers, a tired look in his eyes. I nod and press a soft to his perfect lips. He smiles against my mouth, his hands finding the sides of my face. I run a hand through his hair. He pulls away softly, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I smile. “Thank you for coming, my knight in shining armour.” 

“I enjoyed it. Watching your father fail to solve a simple puzzle was amusing.” He smirks, a mischievous glint in his eye as I roll my eyes. 

“We’re not all geniuses,” I remind him. 

“You are.”

“And how am I a genius?” I chuckle.

“You’re dating me, you clearly have superior taste and intelligence,” he says matter-of-factly. I gigle at his antics and kiss him again. He pulls away and grabs my hand, leading me into our room. We both opt out of brushing our teeth and washing our faces, a makeup wipe sufficing for removing my makeup. He pulls me into bed with him, and finally, after a long week, I finally lie down in bed with him, his arms around me in a bear-hug of sorts. This is heaven. He’s my knight in shining armour. Thank God for Dr. Spencer Reid. 

[fellthemarvelous]

Aziraphale hate makes my brain hurt.

Like let's be really fuckin' for real here.

Neurodivergent fans have repeatedly said that Aziraphale is autistic coded. I agree with them. I have never been diagnosed but I wonder about myself. If only I could get a doctor to take me seriously enough to test me for it, but alas, I'm a 43-year-old woman living in the good ole US of A.

Those with religious trauma have repeatedly said that they identify with him as well. I'm one of those people. I endured 12 years of Catholic schools and just as much time being taught a very black and white view of things that I've had to spend more than 20 goddamn fucking years working to unlearn.

I find that my views as a survivor of religious abuse are often dismissed because people keep wanting to say "Aziraphale doesn't have religious trauma." Yes, thank you, I get that, but unless you've been indoctrinated and brainwashed into a very black and white view of the world, you probably don't understand the kind of feelings Aziraphale's onscreen experiences evoke in so many of us. Heaven might not be real, but the feelings of "God is always watching" still stick with me today even though I no longer believe in God. I have entirely denounced Christianity because of my own personal experience, and I refuse to allow people to try and guilt me or shame me for trauma that I didn't ask for. I wasn't given a choice.

As a child I was told that God was real and always watching everything you do (just like Santa Claus) and can hear everything you say and knows everything you are thinking. Do you know what I learned to do in order to cope with this overwhelming and anxiety-inducing information as a small child? I learned to censor my thoughts. I never spoke up, and I have always felt like I was putting on a show for people because I had to be who I was told to be or I would get into trouble.

Aziraphale said "poverty is a virtue" during The Resurrectionists, and as someone who grew up in the Bible belt and went to private schools, I was taught this very same shit by the Catholic church. He learned in that very same episode that "poverty is a virtue" is actually a tool of oppression to keep the poor poor and the wealthy wealthy. I know we all watched the episode. He went into that episode believing what he said, but by the end of it he knew it was actually utter bullshit. Aziraphale is not ignorant. He's highly intelligent, and he has never been too proud to admit when he has been wrong. He accepts that the information he learned before is not matching up with reality.

And it's so obvious some of you have zero experience with that type of indoctrination because of how very little empathy you show Aziraphale for his "mistake" of "choosing Heaven over Crowley" and "making Crowley sad" so clearly Aziraphale must somehow be "abusive" and "manipulative" and "selfish" and "self-centered" because he didn't choose to run away with Crowley at the end of season two.

First of all.

FIRST OF ALL...

Aziraphale has a mind of his own.

Aziraphale is always going to try and do what is right.

Aziraphale is an angel. He's a being of love. And the reason he's so "bad" at being an angel is because he actually wants to protect humanity. He has always loved humanity. He repeatedly has to contend with what is "right" versus what is "good" and "wrong" versus "evil". Yeah, he has flaws. He's an angel, not a goddamn fucking saint. He has lived on Earth for more than 6,000 years. He has seen everything. He loves doing human things.

He's obsessed with magic. It makes him so happy. He's not very good at it...well not when he's trying to put on a show for Crowley.

He chose to learn French the hard way, so even though he knows every single language in the world, he chooses to be mediocre at French. Something that annoys and amuses Crowley at the same time.

He loves to dance even though angels aren't supposed to dance, and dancing with Crowley was what he wanted the most.

He owns a bookshop and refuses to sell any of his books because they are books he's had for as long as there have been books. He will chase customers away from his collection, and Crowley understands how much they mean to Aziraphale because he refuses to sell any when Aziraphale leaves him in charge.

He and Crowley have been speaking to each other in coded language for more than 6,000 years. They have to be very careful about what they say because Heaven and Hell are always watching.

Heaven has photographs of Crowley and Aziraphale sitting or standing together throughout history. Hell had one photo of Crowley and Aziraphale actually working together and it was Aziraphale's quick thinking and how good he actually is at sleight of hand tricks that managed to get that photo out of Furfur's hands so he wouldn't be able to turn Crowley over to the Dark Council.

Aziraphale saved Crowley from being taken to Hell again. He wasn't able to save Crowley from Hell in Edinburgh, but he sure as heck managed to save Crowley from Hell during WWII. He took Crowley to his bookshop and showed Crowley that he stole the picture from Furfur. He saved Crowley.

You get that, right?

Aziraphale SAVED Crowley.

People always talk about how it's "always Crowley saving Aziraphale" because apparently heroic acts are only heroic when they are grand gestures. The sleight of hand wasn't heroic at all, am I right? It wasn't sparkly and showy. It wasn't interesting enough, therefore not heroic. At least that's all I'm hearing when people start with their "blah Aziraphale deserves to suffer because I have no imagination or ability to understand the media in front of me blah", and all these reasons he deserves to suffer is because Crowley almost got hurt.

Aziraphale did that without flinching and I watch that part closely every single time. He's not scared for himself. He's scared for Crowley, and he managed to hold onto that photograph. He did not fail Crowley. He protected Crowley.

And so here's another thing that we like to point out. The way that Aziraphale, an angel who is effeminate and male presenting, an angel who is soft and full of love, an angel who is kind and forgiving because he has empathy and compassion, is somehow painted as abusive and manipulative. He's not violent, but he could easily fuck up your world. He doesn't use his powers. We have no idea how powerful he is because we only ever see him do small acts. He's used to hiding. It's the only way he has ever been able to protect Crowley.

And I'm not saying that Aziraphale has actually saved Crowley before means that Crowley hasn't also saved Aziraphale. Like, you get that those are not mutually exclusive and their relationship is not transactional, right? They have spent their entire existence protecting each other but never actually getting to be together because Heaven and Hell are always watching.

Yeah, Crowley fell. We all know this. We are aware of this. He was the serpent of Eden. He gave humanity the knowledge of free will.

But what we don't talk about is what Aziraphale gave humanity.

What did he give them?

We all know what it is!

Let's say it together!

He gave Adam and Eve his flaming sword because it was dangerous outside the garden and Eve was pregnant and she was already having a really bad day. He showed them compassion and gave them his extremely powerful angelic weapon so they would stand a chance on the outside of the garden. He gave humanity the gift of compassion. It's just unfortunate that his flaming sword became a weapon of War.

And then what did he do after that?

Ooooh, yeah, that's right.

God asked him about it and he straight up lied to her and pretended he had no idea where he'd managed to misplace it. She didn't say anything after that. He told Crowley the truth though. He told Crowley the truth even though Crowley fell.

Yeah, we know Aziraphale has done some really fucking questionable things. He and Crowley both suck at passing for human in front of observant people like Nina. They're not human. They are still learning, but they managed to experience human history together despite being on opposite sides and their experiences with humanity are what has shaped them into the compassionate and loving duo they are now. One of them is not better from the other.

This, my friends, is what we call meeting in the middle. It's why shades of gray is so important. Aziraphale constantly breaks the rules. Crowley refused to play by Heaven's rules. It's the reason he fell. He doesn't play by Hell's rules either. These two dorks figured out how to cancel each others' miracles out throughout human history in order to have more time learning about humanity and each other because working all day every day sucks when there are so many new things to learn and experience with the people you love.

We know Crowley and Aziraphale both love each other. Neither of them are good at hiding the hearts stars in their eyes.

But here's what's really fucking annoying about the Aziraphale hate.

Aziraphale was already crying when Crowley grabbed him and kissed him. Aziraphale is trying so very hard to do the right thing. He loves Crowley. He does. But he also has a duty to humanity, and he has taken that job very seriously since the creation of Adam and Eve. He sent them out into the world with a flaming sword so they would have a chance at surviving beyond the walls of the garden.

And he knows that Something Terrible is going to happen and he spent all of second season trying to figure out what that Something Terrible was while trying to have some sort of more honest and open relationship with Crowley, but again, they aren't human, they are a demon and an angel approaching life from opposite sides who met in the middle and fell in love with humanity together.

He wants more than anything to tell Crowley how he feels about him, but he wants to do something grand for Crowley because Crowley has always been grand and dramatic and sexy and a little bit scary.

Crowley is impulsive and has a temper and sometimes says the wrong thing but he has always trusted Aziraphale because Aziraphale gave him a chance even after he fell. Aziraphale chose to shelter him instead of smiting him while they stood on top of that wall. He knew he was supposed to kill Crowley, but oops, he gave his sword away to the humans so he didn't really have anything to kill him with and Crowley is the one who created nebulas. The Pillars of Creation is Crowley's work and Aziraphale was there to witness that, but he watched Crowley more than he watched the nebula. He witnessed the pure joy on Crowley's face when he said "let there be light" as a nebula full of colors exploded before their eyes. He was fascinated by Crowley.

But Aziraphale is going back to Heaven even though he has made it perfectly clear he absolutely has no desire to go back to Heaven. He told the Metatron this during their conversation. He spoke these words out loud. They exist.

But then The Metatron said this....

The Metatron. The very same angel who told Aziraphale in season one "to speak to me is to speak to the Almighty." He's the boss. He's the big guy. He's used to existing as a giant head and he had to give himself a body so he wouldn't stand out on Earth. And he knows that Aziraphale and Crowley have been working together since the beginning. He knows they worked together to prevent Armageddon in season one, and now he's made it clear he knows they were working together long before that. And let's face it, Aziraphale really wants to know what this Something Terrible is that Gabriel is running from so he can try to prevent it from happening.

It makes sense that he would want to take Crowley to Heaven with him because he would be able to keep Hell from getting their hands on him again. Aziraphale hates it in Heaven. He doesn't want to go, but Something Terrible is happening and Metatron isn't taking no for an answer, and maybe Heaven won't be so bad if Crowley is there with him. At least they can fix Heaven together.

But Crowley can't go back. We all get that. We don't blame him for saying no. It doesn't change anything.

Something Terrible is about to happen and Aziraphale has to figure out what it is. He wants to change Heaven.

He is fully aware that Heaven sucks. He still has faith in God. His faith isn't in Heaven. He deserted his platoon in season one and threw himself back to Earth so he could figure out how to make sure the war between Heaven and Hell doesn't happen.

But see, here's the thing. Heaven is at the top. Heaven has all the resources. Heaven is responsible for the creation of Hell. Heaven is empty and Hell is overpopulated. Aziraphale knows this. Crowley knows this. It's obvious every time we see either place. Both sides are desperate to go to war and will not hesitate to destroy humanity in the process. This is the opposite of what Crowley and Aziraphale want for humanity. If anyone can change Heaven, it's Aziraphale. He's the only one up there who gives a shit about humanity as far as we know. No one else is going to speak on humanity's behalf.

Some of us are so busy getting mad at Aziraphale for going back to Heaven and giving Crowley a Big Sad. Newsflash: Crowley is not the main character of Good Omens. Aziraphale and Crowley are equals, yet we wanna hold Aziraphale to higher standards because he's an angel, and when he makes mistakes it's proof that he's the bad guy.

Holy mother of all things that trigger my religious trauma, let me tell you. I spent my entire life hating myself every time I made mistakes. I've had to teach myself that just because I mess up sometimes doesn't mean I'm bad. It means I'm human. I still struggle with it. I probably always will. So when you say that Aziraphale deserves to be punished for breaking Crowley's heart, you not only ignore that Aziraphale's heart is also broken, you're saying he deserves to be punished for doing what he thinks is right.

Wanting to change Heaven for the better is not a bad thing.

And some of y'all wanna see him suffer for going back into the lion's den that is Heaven, knowing that he is already an outcast, that they have already tried to kill him once, knowing that he is a deserter, that he has been lying to Heaven about a lot of things, and you still think he's blinded by Heaven? You think he's just so naive and that's the only reason he's going back. He doesn't show his emotions the same way Crowley does so it means he doesn't care as much. He's expected to consider Crowley's feelings over his own when making choices. Like holy shit if all of that hasn't defined my experience as a woman with religious trauma in this fucking society. He's expected to be subservient to Crowley and if he doesn't do what Crowley wants then he's being unreasonable and illogical.

What the actual fuck, y'all.

Like seriously.

I'm sick of this bullshit. I had to step away from this fandom because of how toxic some people in this fandom are. It's not chasing me away, but the fact that I chose to hang out in a a more toxic fandom that is already notorious for being really toxic over a fandom that claims to be more open-minded and welcoming should probably tell you something.

It gave me a lot of perspective, and yeah, I'm still gonna speak up against the bullshit Aziraphale hate.

People are entitled to their opinions, but the Aziraphale hate isn't an opinion. It's just ableist, misogynistic garbage. At this point we all know y'all say these extreme things about Aziraphale because y'all get more joy out of the harm and alienation it is causing others.

Keep being loudly wrong, but if you think I'm not entitled to challenge shitty-ass, harmful, hateful discourse, bite my ass.

I'm not the one who lost the plot in this fandom.

[drdemonprince]

I was in the car with a new friend recently and he was fuming about stress at work, and his rent going up, and I was sympathetic and bummed for him, and then he started yelling about traffic and freaking out any time a car took more than a millisecond to get moving and it freaked me out and I fell silent. I guess he could sense the energy changing in the air.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Am I bothering you?"

"It's okay," I said instinctively, unconvincingly, trying to convince myself to get over it, to not make him feel bad, to not make things about my feelings. I searched for a justification as to why my reaction was wrong. "I guess I forget what it's like to drive a car."

I used to get screamed at for moving too slowly. I exasperated my parents taking so long finding the momentum to get up and do things. I was spacey. Everything was always happening so quick. Where I wanted to put my attention was never where the world wanted me to. They needed me to care about car routes and traffic and appointment times instead of smooth pebbles on the sidewalk or birds. And my dad was always so furious in the car. Certain he was the authority on what made a good driver and that everyone else was not up to his standards. Ranting and yelling and flipping out so badly it made me cry and then put on a big smile to reassure him. I almost gave up learning to drive as a teen because my slow, plunking movements and insecurity on the road sent him into such a rage.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the evening," my friend said.

"You didn't," I reassured him.

I didn't want him to think I had a problem with him complaining about his life. That is what friends are for. It was the road rage that touched an unaged part of me, and brough that part forward so strongly I couldn't hide it. I couldn't fix my face. I almost started to cry.

It was the first time in a very long time that I've been well and truly triggered. Certain experiences in the present can make old parts of me reverberate; there's a ringing that you get inside when someone's shampoo smells like a bad old boyfriend or somebody touches you the wrong way without meaning to and you briefly go a little dead. That's manageable. It's a useful cue that something needs to change quickly before you freak out. I thank those triggers for existing. But this one. It caused an actual emotional phase shift straight to the past. Freeze up and then fawn it off, play along, make up for your own reaction.

It's crazy how unsafe I genuinely felt for a moment! And I tend to critique people who abuse the language of "feeling unsafe" for manipulative and white supremacist ends, so it is useful for me to get that reminder of just how reality-bending an acute state of triggeredness is. I tell people to use their words and regulate their distress and there I was, unable to.

I had forgotten one of the major reasons that I hate cars! That is how long I have been away from my dad and car-dependent culture and intense, mean impatience. I have made a lot of the right choices to protect me over the years, or else this upset would not be so unfamiliar.

[pearlescent-poppies]

I’m sick and tired of the Flower Husbands discourse. Like really truly it is just making me so upset now. They are my comfort ship. They are. My first tattoo is a poppy with the ESMP1 quote. I want to hold them in my hands and give them all of the good things in the world. When I see people calling them toxic and abusive, it really hurts me. And there’s not a tag to filter out all of it, not all of them tag “toxic flower husbands”. I get it, okay? I do. I get why you might see them like that. But if anything? If we’re going to see Flower Husbands as the most toxic duo, take a look at every other relationship Jimmy has in the Life Series (with the exception of Tango) and you’ll find the same thing. He’s the butt of the joke. He’s the canary they all poke fun of in his cage. He doesn’t care. But Scott does care. If Desert Duo never left the desert, Scott never stopped crying at Jimmy’s grave. Did you watch his series all the way through? Did you see his ideal afterlife? That Jimmy welcomed him home because that is what they had together? Did you hear the way Scott’s voice got sad talking about how quiet and weird it was not to have Jimmy with him? Have you not watched as Scott uses every single opportunity possible to bring up Flower Husbands? He misses Jimmy with every fiber of his being. Jimmy misses Scott too. Did you watch Last Life? Do you know what Martyn did to make Jimmy give him back the life? He promised a life together, Martyn says it himself! That it was all romantic promising to run away just the two of them. How Jimmy was so hopeful. So naive because this was the beginning, he’s not got all of the hope anymore. Jimmy has had to move on. Jimmy made himself move on. 30 seconds. Do you not imagine him turning away from that interaction resigned to his choice a single tear rolling down his face before he rejoins his boys in their shenanigans? Cause I do. That was a man he had devoted his life to. And yeah, maybe it was because of a joke and a silly a poppy. But do you know what a poppy means? Remembrance, dreams, death, and hope for a peaceful future. Do you know what the white daisy, blue cornflower, and red tulip meant at Jimmy’s grave? Purity, life, reanimation, hope, and true feelings. Do you think a character who conveys a message like that capable of the abuse you accuse him of? Scott’s general air of cattiness is just his character. Hard edges that once you’ve chipped away at, reveal someone who is extremely dedicated and fiercely loyal even and especially to his own detriment. Scott will make jokes about finally being free once his husband dies to the war, but I really think that’s just him preparing for the inevitable. Jimmy was going to die. Canary or not. They all were. So why not make a joke out of being lambs in a slaughterhouse. Isn’t that one of the main ways people cope? Scott loved his husband. Still does and will continue too. Jimmy is the same. But he let go. Had to. He would never have forgiven himself for dragging Scott down with him. How many times do you think that man apologised to Tango for dying first. How many times do you think that man apologised to Tango for dying first before they even lost their third life in the first place? I honestly think Scott himself sums this up best: “I don’t always put myself first and sure I’ve made plenty of mistakes and I’ve hurt people. But I’ve always done my best.”

So next time you wanna call them toxic, rewatch the series and think about this post.

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

Ever since October 7th, the amount of misinformation and disinformation about Jews, Israel, Judaism, and even just like, basic facts about reality have been so intense that it's really dredging up a lot of my gaslighting trauma.

(No, not in the memic sense that it's been distorted into, but the kind of gaslighting that leads you to detransition and think it was your choice despite drowning in dysphoria, the kind that warps and changes and erases memories, and makes it so that you dissociate for literal months at a time to escape the pain. That kind.)

And I recognized this because I keep finding myself arguing facts and trying to reason with people who say that they're part of the compassionate left and care about working on antisemitism but yet spew the kind of antisemitism that would be totally at home on Stormfront.

It's that first arguing stage of gaslighting, where the abuser keeps saying outrageous, untrue things and you're still fighting to try and get them to empathize with you and seek mutual understanding. This:

A gaslighter does not simply need to be right. He or she also needs for you to believe that they are right. In stage 1, you know that they are being ridiculous, but you argue anyways. You argue for hours, without resolution. You argue over things that shouldn’t be up for debate — your feelings, your opinions, your experience of the world. You argue because you need to be right, you need to be understood, or you need to get their approval. In stage 1, you still believe yourself, but you also unwittingly put that belief up for debate.

(bolding mine) (source)

This is a pattern I recognize in myself in personal relationships and even within communities, but what's happening right now is a lot bigger and more diffuse. It's not one abuser or even a shitty cohort of abusive people who are monopolizing a community space. This is being encouraged in a frighteningly large number of non-Jewish progressive spaces. In the same way that stochastic terrorism adds up very quickly, this type of cultural gaslighting and stochastic emotional abuse feels like a deluge.

But if you look at history, this is not new, for Jews. This is but the latest version of a very long game of Why Won't You Just Give Up and Assimilate or Die that Jews have thus far prevailed on at great cost to ourselves.

Anyway I'm done arguing with goyim about things that absolutely should not be up for debate: Jewish history, Jewish culture, what certain religious concepts in Judaism mean, Jewish lived experiences, what is and isn't antisemitism. If you aren't willing to engage in a genuine way that seeks mutual understanding, I'm not interested. I'm done.

You are engaging in violent behavior and lying to yourself about it and calling it activism. Well I am no longer going to participate. You can lie to yourself all you want, but you are a bad person and I don't forgive you, and you can do that alone.

You are acting from a mob mentality and a mob cannot be reasoned with. You are drunk on your tiny bit of power and social capital, and years down the line you'll lie to yourself and pretend that you cared about us.

You didn't. And deep down you know it, too.

Instead of arguing with people who refuse to see facts or reason and put our experiences up for debate, I am going to work on compiling a resource for people who want to actually learn.

Everyone else can fuck off.

[i-cant-sing]

Okay okay, time for me to word vomit an idea:

So imagine that after Dabi does his whole vengeful arc, kills dozens of people and publicly calls out Enji's abusive ass, my man just gets caught by the cops and he's like put in a psychiatric hospital (because obviously Enji pulled some strings to save his son from death row to ease his own guilt).

Anyways, Dabi is like majorly depressed obviously and he's like "well, I've done everything I wanted to, so I might as well off myself" and cue reader's entry.

So basically, reader could be a nurse/doctor(NOT A PSYCHIATRIST) and she's all warm and fuzzy and a literal Ray of sunshine and Dabi hates her, but he doesn't give a crap atm.

And like everytime Dabi tries to kill himself, reader is there to stop him. It obviously started with "nooo, please don't kill yourself🥺 you are precious🥺🥺" to reader just swooping in and foiling his plans like "can you not die during my shift? I need an early night off🥱". Dabi is actively trying to kill himself, like he's standing on the ledge to jump, and reader is tackling him down and then punching him for making you run all the way up to the roof.

And like reader is bandaging him up with great gentleness and care and Dabi is staring at her being all close to him (he is mesmerised), and he goes-

"I'll be successful in my suicide one day."

And you just smile and shake your head. "Not as long as I'm praying." And at first, Dabi is super annoyed because he's think you're into the whole religious mumbo jumbo, but he actually caught you one day praying (insert whatever religion) and he's bewitched by the sincerity you pray for his (and others) well being. As if you believed with your whole heart that someone up there is listening to you.

He doesn't know what or when exactly he fell for you, but he did. And he decides that he'll confess to you after he gets out of psychiatric hospital (after tugging at Rei's and Enji's heart strings and them using money and influence to free their menace son). After spending 6 years in the hospital, 6 years where you were the only one who truly cared for him, he'll finally confess to you.

But then you don't come. Not even the next day, or the week after that. Turns out, you left your job.

Out of the blue? Dabi's suspicions rose.

He got out of the hospital and began doing his own research on you until he found your address and well... he sort of came in unannounced (look he knocked, you didn't answer, so he melted the lock and let himself in. At least he came in bearing flowers and wine).

He wasn't expecting you to be at home, but there you were, lying in your bed, a little too still for someone to be asleep.

He throws the covers off you, eyes narrowing on the red stains on your sheet before moving to your bleeding wrists.

Dabi's world stops, every cell in his body stops before every fiber in his being screams and makes him move. He doesn't check for pulse, doesn't check if you're still breathing, perhaps he'd die himself if he didn't like the answer he found. He picks you up and immeadiately goes to the nearest hospital, which fortunately was near.

While you were being operated on, Dabi sat outside, heart thumping as he prayed to whatever deity you did.

Please... not yet.

His prayers were answered as tge doctors told him that you're going to be alright... physically that is. Mentally? Well, Dabi is about to figure it out.

He sat by your side waiting for you to wake up. When you finally did, he saw how different you looked. Obviously he had noticed that you were physically weak, but your eyes... they lost their shine.

Your eyes turned to confusion when you looked at him. "D-Dabi? What are you-"

"I found you." That was enough for you to put together what he meant. You turned your eyes away from him, ashamed.

"Why?" He asks in a quiet tone. "What made you do it?"

"My choices." You whispered. "Bad decisions in the past."

Dabi wanted to pry more out of you, but he knew you wouldn't explain more. So, he takes matter into his own hands and leaves the hospital, telling you that he needs to run some errands, but he's actually going back to your apartment and starts rummaging through your stuff to find some clues as to what exactly caused you to do this.

He didn't have to look around too much because he found your phone and snooped through your messages. Someone was blackmailing you. They had some explicit pictures of you, seems like a toxic ex who was threatening to share these photos with your family and social circle.

So Dabi pays a visit to your ex, takes care of him and the pictures he had,making sure to get rid of all the copies too. All in a day!

By night he had returned to the hospital, you were asleep. He slept there too, in the uncomfortable hospital chair, heart at peace as he watched your chest rise and fall steadily.

Next morning, when it was time for you to leave, Dabi helped you and took you home. You thanked him for everything, and Dabi made sure to tell you that he'll be picking you up for lunch later. You agreed hesitantly. And at lunch, he finally revealed that he came to you because he wanted to ask you out.

You look surprised, more so when he reveals that he had fancied you for a while and that he understands that relationships might not be a priority for you at the moment but-

"I understand if dating is not a priority for you right now but if you ever do consider falling in love, know that I've been on the top of your wait list for the past 6 years and will wait another lifetime if that's all the time you need."

You're in tears at his words, and you have a hard time not breaking down as he takes your hands in his, his thumbs carefully tracing over your bandaged wrists as he promises to wait by your side, that he'll always be there to help you with anything, that if you gave him a chance, he'll spend the rest of his life trying to make you happy.

"Dabi, i- I am not good for you." You say, voice wobbly. "My past, it'll always haunt me and I care too much about you to let it haunt you as well."

"Your ex? His pictures?" He asked watching shock appear on your face. "You won't ever have to worry about him, Y/n."

You shook off your surprise. "That's not it. It's not the only problem I have!"

"Then tell me. I'll fix all of your problems." Dabi promises with such sincerity that you're compelled to believe him.

You don't tell him obviously, saying that it is your burden, your mess to deal with. Dabi doesn't push more, only because he knows he'll figure it out later anyways. Hey, he may be a criminal but he was once the son of the top hero who trained him, so Dabi's IQ is through the fucking roof.

And a man in love has no limitations.

Had a DUI? He deals with it. Parents disowned you? He'll make them regret it. Killed someone? He'll make sure you have an alibi to prove your innocence. Cheated off a test in grade 2? He'll make sure there are no witnesses alive. He'll burn the world- burn himself if it means keeping you warm.

You don't wanna date a criminal? Fine, he's working a cooperate job and since he's so smart, he'll be a fucking CEO in no time and have enough money and time to spend on you. Youre crying because you feel ugly when you see your scars? Dabi makes sure to kiss them every day and pulls out his turtleneck (aka the trademark Todoroki fit) for you, while he buys the best treatment money can buy for your scars. Mental health is going down? He's taking you to the best therapist in town. You're sad he's an atheist because it means you won't be with him in heaven? Damn, he's a convert now.

I just adore men in love :(

Okay but I don't think we're focusing on how scary smart Dabi actually is😳😳😳 I just know it, I KNOW he's super smart but he downplays it all the time because he's depressed or whatever.

[hadesoftheladies]

I find it very unfortunate that most people have a very romantic, heroic and “male” view of revolution or activism. Most people imagine it as sudden, loud, violent, glorious, public sacrifice and bleeding in the street. You think of protest and you think of destruction of property, bonfires and gas masks. It is sometimes, big and large donations. These can lead to change, but they oftentimes risk being performative.

Revolution and protest, I think, are actually very quiet affairs. Revolution is reading and learning to deconstruct culture and human behavior. Your own mind, where the colonization happens. I think Revolution happens in the daily choices of what we choose to consume. When people live their lives as protest rather than wait for a big moment. I think boycotting shouldn’t simply be about getting companies to bend the knee. It should be about divesting from an entire industry of exploitation. Our way of life should change. Revolution is us changing. Changing our minds and choices. And living in such a way that we create a community, however small, of different living. Where we buy each other’s soaps and wooden spoons and rely on each other’s expertise instead of buying a subscription (and I’m generalizing here I am aware bc activism must be intersectional to be effective). It is far more impactful that I stop consuming dairy for a lifetime than that I starve myself for a month in protest. It is far more costly to these corporations and to the status quo that I alter my life.

Men’s idea of glory is dying for their beliefs. That is the predominant narrative of heroism. Everyone dies. But living in accordance to your principles? Living as radically as possible? That’s rare and that takes a whole lot of work. An entire lifetime of boycotting is far more destructive to these systems than simply punishing yourself or putting pressure on others in the heat of a mob. It is far more revolutionary to think the forbidden thoughts and so do the uncommon thing. By living this way, we open a door for a new way of living for others. And when we create a new system of living as a community, we set up pillars here and there that will eventually hold up the future we are trying to build. It takes longer. The best works of art take longer. Quality takes more time and focus than quantity, and too many of us are worried about the quantity (how many people can we get to post the black square) rather than quality (how do my decisions impact those around me and how can I use that?).

I think that’s why so many of you look down on things like separatism and veganism. It is less sensational and more (at least in perception) inconvenient. But I have contributed to the environment way more by not eating meat than I would by donating thousands of dollars to green charities. And the reason I am vegan is because other vegans helped me integrate into that lifestyle. They “socialized” me so to speak. Separatism socializes women and men, too. Women separating socializes future policy makers and little girls that would have otherwise (likely) ended up in abusive relationships. It’s not glamorous: does that make it less impactful?

I think revolutionaries are not the ones that merely give a nice speech for the newspapers or volunteer (I am NOT saying volunteering is not worthy or valuable activism). Rather I think revolutionaries are the ones who are willing to change how they think and how they live first. I think the greatest thing a person can give to their causes is their entire life. Not money. Not suffering. Not a few days in the soup kitchen. Their entire way of living. Their consumption habits and their civic activities. Their intentionality in interpersonal relationships.

I think that’s how anything’s ever gotten better in the first place.

[ashtheketchum]

A new family {Daryl Dixon X Reader} Part 1

A/N: In this chapter, the reader already has a child! I came up with this idea while rewatching the first season and I liked it :3 Have fun!

(D/N) = Daughter name

Warnings: fem.Reader, Reader already has a child, Merle is an asshole, mentions of abuse, insults (slut, bitch, etc.)

Picture is from Pinterest!

Masterlist!

____________________________________________________

PoV (Y/N):

My daughter (D/N) and I were brought to camp by Glenn and Andrea while they were looking for something to eat. We were very lucky, our supplies were running out and we couldn't defend ourselves. Their leader, Shane, accepted us, but only after Lori and Dale talked him into it. (D/N) and I settled in well, we were given a tent, some food and tasks to do during the day.

I was supposed to take care of the laundry and the kids while (D/N) had to do study work and keep watch with Dale. Actually, they were just watching birds, but they still enjoyed it. But there were also two people who didn't play well with us. The Dixon brothers, Merle and Daryl. Merle was Daryl's big brother and they were more alone. It wouldn't actually bother me if Merle didn't constantly make comments and Daryl looked after him like his lap dog. Once Merle whistled at me because I was wearing shorts.

When I tried to contradict him, Daryl immediately jumped between us and drove me away. "Go awa´, ya damn bitch!" He screamed the whole time. However, I didn't leave because Daryl scared me, but because (D/N) was coming towards us. After that day, I had avoided the Dixon brothers and I forbade (D/N) to be near them.

One day (D/N) made a necklace with a small stone hanging on it. The stone looked almost like a heart and she had it attached to one of her shoelaces. "She looks great, darling." I said proudly. (D/N) grinned widely at me before looking around. Apparently she was looking for someone, but I couldn't figure out who she was looking for. "Mom, where is Daryl?" Her question stole all color and emotion from me.

I looked around uncertainly before kneeling down next to her. "Honey, we talked about it… you're not going to them, not even to Daryl." I said, a little more sternly. (D/N) just pouted before putting the necklace away and sitting next to a tree. I felt bad about giving her so little choice, but there was no other option. At least she could still play with Carl and Sophia while I started doing the laundry.

PoV Daryl:

I sat by a tree and cleaned my arrows from my crossbow. Merle had gone deeper into the woods to take a piss, so I waited for him, but at a safe distance. "Daryl!" I suddenly heard someone scream. I immediately looked in the direction from which I was being called.

It was that stupid bitch's daughter. She looked at me brightly as she ran toward me. You'd think she wouldn't understand the current situation, the way she sometimes ran around and laughed. I stood up and sighed in annoyance. "Wha´ do ya wan´?" I asked harshly.

(D/N), that was her name, stopped in front of me and held out a necklace. It was a shoelace with a strangely shaped stone attached to it. I briefly looked at the necklace in confusion, then at the little girl. "Wha´?" I didn't understand what she wanted. "I did that! For you!” she then said. I knelt down so that I was eye level with her. Then I snatched the necklace from her hand and I looked at the necklace.

,, Wha´ is tha´? An a-…” I stopped when I realized she was only 8 years old. I cleared my throat briefly before speaking up again. "… A-an apple…?" I then corrected myself. (D/N) laughed briefly before shaking her head and tracing the outline with her finger. "That's a heart! Mom and I found it!” she explained. "Ah…" I said before putting the necklace in my pocket. "I won´t wear tha… it'll break while I'm huntin´…" I just lied.

Merle would just laugh at me if he saw the necklace and I wasn't in the mood for that. But (D/N) nodded in understanding and opened her mouth again to say something, but a more aggressive voice made her stop. "Daryl, what are ya doing? Leave tha´ kid alone!” Merle shouted. I immediately turned around to Merle. (D/N) looked scared and she hid slightly, behind me. Merle walked up to her and grabbed her arm roughly. "He, little one… my brotha is too old for ya!" Merle said. (D/N) whimpered loudly and tears gathered in her eyes. I stayed silent for a while before I spoke up. "Merle, tha's enough… I was just ´bout to send her awa´." I said. "Oh yeh? Then why is tha´ stupid brat still here? Go to yar slutty motha.” Merle then shouted loudly.

(D/N) cried loudly before he let go of her and she ran away. Grinning, Merle stood up again before looking at me. I looked after the little girl before I could no longer see her. "Wha´?" I suddenly heard Merle's voice. "Nothin´…" is all I said before we retreated into the forest.

PoV (Y/N):

I chatted with Carol while we hung out the laundry together. Her husband, Ed, stared at us the whole time. When Carol and I were alone, I told her what my husband had done to me and my daughter. Carol was in the same situation I was in, except I killed my husband. So I understood her. “Mom!” I suddenly heard (D/N) scream loudly. I immediately threw the clothes on the floor and ran to my daughter, who was crying and sobbing. I hugged her tightly and tried to calm her down.

"Honey, what happened!? Why are you crying!?" I asked her as I checked her for injuries. But I didn't find any, luckily. "I-I…! D-daryl-! Merle…!” She stuttered around random words. But I understood enough to let my anger rise. Even though I told her to stay away from the Dixon brothers, I didn't want to yell at her right now. Apparently the brothers had already done it. "Everything is fine…! I will talk to them…” I promised her. But (D/N) immediately shook her head and clutched my shirt tightly. "M-merle called you a slut…! He’s just like daddy!” she cried loudly. My eyes filled with anger and I carried (D/N) to Lori, who was cutting Carl's hair.

She immediately looked at me confused while (D/N) was still breathing heavily. "What happened?" Lori asked. Carl also looked at (D/N) while I sat her down next to him. "Dixon happened." I said simply before turning around and running towards the brothers. They could hear something from me.

Next Chaper!

[animebw]

I've seen Kimi ni Todoke get pigeonholed a lot as a sweet, fluffy series that's nothing but good vibes. And to be sure, this show is sugary sweet to a truly dangerous level. Every second I spend with Sawako and Kazehaya feels like I'm putting myself at risk of some yet undiscovered Type 3 Diabetes. But reducing Kimi ni Todoke to its fluffiness leaves out just how wrenching it can be. It may not be as raw an emotional wound as Fruits Basket's exploration of abuse, but there is a deep, aching agony at the heart of this show just as palpable as its sweeter moments. And it comes from understanding one very basic fact: the greatest sources of happiness in our lives are able to cause us even greater pain.

Throughout this story, Sawako's most painful moments don't come as a result of bullies or tragic strokes of fate. They come because she cares about someone so deeply that the thought of losing them- or worse, hurting them with her mistakes- becomes impossible to bear. Not just with Kazehaya, but with Chizu and Ayane in the first arc when their budding friendship is almost shattered and they realize how much they've come to love each other that the thought of losing each other hurts this much. Same for Kurumi's feelings for Kazehaya, or Chizu's feelings for Ryu's brother, and all the other crushes that go unspoken for so long. To love someone in Kimi ni Todoke means to leave yourself vulnerable, to accept the possibility that things will go wrong and this thing that's so special to you will shatter like glass in your hands. To love is to open yourself to agony; to agonize is proof that it's love at all. It's a pain the characters risk again and again, because the connections they've forged are too precious to give up on.

And nowhere is that idea more strongly expressed than Ryu and Chizu's backstory. Seeing how deeply entwined their lives have been, how tragedy and suffering have shaped them, how they've both actively chosen again and again to be there for each other through thick and thin... god, I don't think this show's ever made me cry this hard before. Just the image of Chizu making rice balls for Ryu over and over again to try and replace the hole his mother's death left was enough to make me lose my shit. Never mind seeing Ryu actually cry for the first time. Time and again, the only option they have is hurt with each other, to sink into suffering together and carry each other to the other side. But they make that choice regardless, because they will be fucked if they leave the other to drown alone. Their bond is more than a childhood friendship, or even a burgeoning romantic relationship. It's a connection as essential a part of their lives as eating and breathing, a fundamental truth of their shared existence that they willed into being.

And it's no wonder that Chizu is terrified of losing that after Ryu confesses. How dare he stab a spike through everything they've been through? How dare he shatter their status quo and leave them unable to return to that part of their lives? But once again, all that is just Ryu choosing, once again, to face the pain that comes with loving someone head first, accepting the risk that things will never be the same... in hopes that something entirety new can still be born from its ashes. It's him putting his faith in what he and Chizu have together, trusting that no matter what, they are too important to each other to let go even in waters this stormy. It is, quite frankly, as powerful and honorable an expression of love as I've seen in a very long time.

This show is really fucking good, you guys.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

they managed to massacre Aang's character and all the struggle and importance of his choice in the finale in a SINGLE page, and yet there are people who think the comics are good

and of course Katara's would have nothing to say on the matter, toootally in-character

Not to mention: yes, Zuko is right that a lifetime of indoctrination won't magically stop affecting him just because he's aware of it now, but the way the comics really said "If you're not perfect, you deserve to die. Not rehabilitation, not even incarceration despite it being an option, just straight to violent, lethal punishment" is horrying.

And lets not forget the blatant abuse apologism of having Zuko, the kid who was told by his abusive parent that his disfigurement and banishment was "for his own good" after he made one "mistake", turning to his closest friends and asking them to be his "safety net" by MURDERING HIM IF EVER STEPS OUT OF LINE - and said friends then agree to it.

Are you fucking kidding me? The real Aang would have double-down on the "You're NOT your father" bit, and the entire friend group would have been super concerned about Zuko because a victim of abuse saying they're as bad as their abuser thus deserve to die is one hell of a red flag as to how their mental health is going.

Speaking of mental health: I talk a lot about how Azula was constantly being abused by the supposed heroes in the comics, and how the justification of it is rooted in ableism, but this nonsense with Zuko asking to be put down like a dog is also peak victim blaming, and one of the few moments in which one can actually feel bad for comics!Zuko.

And it ties into a disturbing pattern I noticed among Avatar fans - and mainly Zuko fans. They don't truly understand that what Ozai put his children through was wrong, they simply think he chose the wrong kid as the escapegoat. They think Azula should have been the one that is constantly punished just for existing, while Zuko is the golden child that can do no wrong - or else.

This moment right here? With the people that he trusts agreeing to inflict violence on him if he ever makes a mistake? This is that "or else". This is literally the same mentality that led to Azula's breakdown because NO ONE CAN SURVIVE UNDER THAT MUCH PRESSURE.

And that leads us to the main reason why the comcis suck: Yang was using Zuko as a self-insert.

"Zuko‘s relationship with Ozai is something we – Mike, Brian, Dark Horse, Nickelodeon, and I – talked about extensively when we first started working together. There’s this strange thing that happens to people in power. The pressures of power often blur the lines between enemies. That’s part of what happens to Zuko here. Ozai is the only one who knows what it’s like to be Fire Lord, the only one who has the wisdom of experience. I also looked at my own life. I used to clash with my dad quite a bit when I was a teenager. However, as I grew up and found myself in roles that he used to have, I began to understand more and more of his decisions. My father isn't thoroughly evil, of course, but I imagine Zuko feels a little of the same pull."

Yang. My guy. My dude. The words "Ozai" and "wisdom" should NEVER be in the same sentence. Every single action of Ozai's as Fire Lord was based on him being an abusive piece of shit that finally got access to absolute power. He is not a stern dad, he is abusive. He's not misunderstood, he needed to be stopped and locked away. He is a human being with feelings and motivations, yes, but he is WRONG ABOUT LITERALLY EVERYTHING EVER. He NEVER had a point. Zuko has nothing to learn from him except what NOT to do. That's why he looks like an older, unscarred Zuko. A version of Zuko that never changed.

This is the core issue of the comics, and why it had so many moments of unintentional abuse apologism: they say Ozai is a villain, but they're going out of their way to constantly make the characters come dangerously close to saying "Maybe he had a point." That's why they have Zuko turn to Ozai for advice despite claiming he wants to avoid becoming like him - because the guy writting them couldn't understand that the bad guy was, in fact, bad and in the wrong and has no wisdom to offer to anyone.

Avatar, the series, is about the world moving past from the sick mentality people like Ozai had, and about his son realizing that he did not deserve to be abused. The Avatar Comics are about telling Zuko (and others) "Ozai isn't wrong actually, you'll understand when you're older."

No, Yang, they won't. Because there's nothing to "understand" here other than THE GUY THAT ABUSED HIS CHILDREN AND COMMITED GENOCIDE WAS WRONG ABOUT EVERYTHING, YOU DUMBASS!

Saying "the villain had a point" does not make a story better unless it is true - and in Ozai's case, it simply isn't. Insisting otherwise doesn't make the story and characters more mature, it just means you couldn't understand a cartoon aimed at 7-year-olds despite being a grown-ass man.

And I won't even get into Bryke approving of this bullshit otherwise I'll start tearing my hair out in rage at how badly they seem to have lost touch with the message of their best work, so let me just use a simple statemet to make everyone understand just how much of a disaster this is:

Even M. Night Shyamalan didn't misunderstand ATLA to the point of thinking Ozai wasn't actually wrong, but Bryan, Mike and Yang did. The comics understand the show less than M. Night Shyamalan did.

I rest my fucking case.

[bwaybwaycwaycway]

Quick rant about Authority in Disco Elysium

I'm writing this because I had someone rightly call me out at work for second-guessing myself for not trusting in an answer I gave. Specifically, I was asked to identify a type of fire extinguisher from a distance, and even though I was correct, I wanted to check my answer by going up and reading the label. It reminded me about internal confidence in yourself and the things you say.

Authority is an underrated skill in Disco Elysium.

I get why people dislike it. Whenever Authority gets a failure, it has extremely violent, sociopathic responses to the situation at hand, like telling you to hurt people or, in a very famous scene, put a loaded pistol in your mouth. This kind of behavior upsets Kim, who serves as the moral compass for most players, so you stop taking risky Authority checks and don't bother wearing clothing that boosts the skill. You eventually think of Authority as a skill used by people who want to go the Fascist Cop route.

And then you get to the Tribunal. At the end, only one skill will save Kim. Authority. It isn't even you giving him a real order, it's mostly asserting that there is danger and that Kim must respond to it, and ignore your broken half-dead body. It seems like a weird choice that Esprit de Corps isn't doing this, as it's the cop-related skill, or Suggestion, as it is the skill best used to convince others.

No, only Authority will snap Kim out of his panic and make sure he survives the fight without serious injury. And that's because Authority is a skill that, when it succeeds a check, is about personal confidence in your ability as a police officer, and a human being living their life in Revachol.

Authority sure does get you into bad situations, and if you choose to go down the path of the Honour Cop, suggests thumb-fucking yourself to display said honour. But when it succeeds, Authority is barely there, just reminding you that you've got this. You know what to do, you've known all along. You're confident in your actions and accept responsibility for them when Authority is taking lead.

People don't trust cops with low Authority. Sorry Cops, as Kim says, are actively harmful to the reputation of the RCM. Apologizing and second-guessing yourself makes people lose faith in the government you represent and in your ability to solve the case or help them live their lives. A lot of negative modifiers are due to you appearing weak or lacking confidence when you first meet people, as they don't think of you as a trustworthy cop who can fix things.

Finally, the confrontation with Kim over asking him to share a secret about his past, involving the Eyebrow Off, shows that Authority is something that isn't abusive when used right. Kim uses his Authority to convince you to drop the question when you fail, but if you succeed, he share a little fact about his childhood that's of no consequence except it's slightly embarrassing to him. You learn on a failure though that Kim's Authority is immense, and it shows through his confidence in himself and his job as a cop.

Authority is about showing other people, sometimes even falsely presenting, confidence in yourself and what you're doing. When it fails, it pushes you to assert this confidence again, especially in the face of someone trying to assert their Authority over you. It wants you to be a good cop, but has such a narrow way of thinking that it can get you or other people killed multiple times.

[bosinclairsgff]

It’s been ages since I’ve requested any sort of thing but do you think you could do something where the reader finds a way to break out of the firefly house which leads to a whole chase scene with Otis? Love some dark stuff.

I loveeeee this!! Thanks so much for requesting!

I hope you enjoy what I did with this request! I tried my best, it’s maybe longer than you had hope but I was hanging fun haha! Much love xoxo ✨🫶🏻

Warnings : typical Rob Zombie violence, cussing, abuse

I had been trapped in the firefly house for over a month. The things I have seen and been put through are absolutely horrific. While being here Otis, as I’ve come to know him, and his sister Baby brought back a group of friends. They turned one of the men into a fish man hybrid. They made me watch as they brutally tortured him and murdered him. From what I could tell Halloween had come and passed in my time being with them. Baby had brought me candy one night when she had gotten back from somewhere. She and mama were the only ones to treat me sort of normal. Otis on the other hand, he made me sit in his room for days just watching him work on his “art” and listen to him rant about everything. Sometimes he’d forget to feed me and I’d starve for days. It’d take a yelling from Baby for him to remember. I don’t know why they haven’t killed me yet. I mean sure, they mentally and even sometimes physically abuse me. If I don’t say the exact thing Otis wants to hear he’ll take a razor and cut my arm or leg. I’m always getting yelled and or hit.

I’ve spent my whole time being here trying to find away to just get away from these people. Sometimes, Otis will untie me to go hangout with Baby or even to use the bathroom. He’d watch me use the bathroom but when I saw Baby it was just her and I. Depending on what time of day Otis let’s me go see her, sometimes she’ll fall asleep as I sit in her room. I knew that was my only chance. So, I waited, I waited until he was in a good mood and let me visit her one night. “Do you want to visit Baby tonight? I think you deserve a little vacation.” He chuckled at his wording choice. “Yes please Otis.” I whisper timidly. Otis nods in response, satisfied with my answer. It was only about 6pm when he asked me, I knew it was to early, and plus baby wasn’t even home yet. It was around 10pm when Baby got home, she clearly had been drinking. “Y/n!!! I hear we get to hangout tonight sugar. We should watch..um..a movie! Yes, a movie! A scary movie!!” She says stumbling around the room. Otis walks over to me, rolling his eyes. He unties me from the chair I was bond to. “I don’t want her to spend the night in there Baby, bring her back in a few hours, got it?” He barks at her. “Yes, yes okay whatever you say.” Baby respond while grabbing my hand to pull me away to her room.

She immediately sits me down on the floor and she takes the bed. Baby turns on the tv and finds a movie she’s satisfied with. Normally she’d let me sit on the bed and she’d brush and style my hair, tonight though she seemed exhausted. We sat there for about 20 minutes just watching the movie. When I looked up I found her fast asleep. I knew this was my chance. “Baby” I whispered slightly. I got no response. I slowly got myself up off the floor, I know I don’t have the best strength considering I’m starved most of the time. I just assumed adrenaline would kick in and get me out of this hell hole. I make my way quickly but quietly out of Baby’s room, down the hall and to the steps. I check my surroundings, making sure no one had noticed me lurking about. I take a my first step on the stairs, no sound, I take my next step, quiet creek. The third step I take gives everything away. I put my full weight down and a loud creek rings through the whole house. I can hear Otis’s footsteps getting close to opening his bedroom door. “Baby, is that you? What the hell are you doing. Don’t take her downstairs.” Otis yells. I waste no more time and book it down the remaining steps. I can hear Otis kick open his door and start running after me. “Get your sorry ass back here right now y/n!” He’s screaming through the house. I ignore his words and make it out the front door, it’s very late and I can barely see where I’m going. I just keep running as tears fly down my cheeks. “Run rabbit, run rabbit, run!” I can hear Otis not far behind me. I can feel him getting closer and I can feel myself getting extremely tired. If I can just keep going a little longer maybe I can escape him. Suddenly that thought is erased from becoming reality as Otis tackles me to the ground, I let out a loud scream. I immediately try to fight him off of me, kicking and hitting him as hard as I can. He struggles to hold my arms down but eventually he does. Both my arms are above my head being held down with what feels like all his weight. Otis’s legs are on either side of my hips. “You dumb fucking cunt. I let you leave the room and this is what you do in return. You are such a fucking idiot. I should have killed you the day I brought you here.” With that being said he takes one hand away from holing my hands above my head and reaches to his belt where he keeps his huge hunting knife. My blood immediately runs cold. Is this where it all ends? I was so close to freedom and now I’m going to be gutted alive. Before I can imagine even more awful ways he could kill me he has the knife to my throat. “I was starting to think maybe, just maybe, I could keep you around as my little pet. What a dumb fucking thought I’ll admit. You stupid bunny.” He smirks. “Please…please…Otis I’m sorry..I’m so sorry. I swear on my life I won’t try to run again. Just don’t kill me please.” I say as I feel the hot tears run down my face. He pushes the knife harder against my neck. Hard enough to draw blood, I wince and shut my eyes. “Look at me y/n.” Otis growls. I quickly open my eyes. “Please…” I whisper. He leans closer to me until our faces are pressed to each other, I can feel his breath on my lips. He smells like alcohol. “I’m so sorry” I whisper again. He gets back up and frees my arms, only to take his hand and slap it harshly across my face. I let out a loud shriek. Otis was still holding the knife to my throat, which cut my neck even more when he hit me. “You ever pull some stupid god damn stunt like this again y/n…and I’ll hang you up like a pig and skin you alive. You got that bitch?” He says while tilting his head to the side. I let out a soft sob and respond. “Yes! Yes I do Otis, I won’t ever do it again I swear. I’ll be so good I promise. Thank you.” I say just above a whisper. He’s satisfied and takes the knife from my throat. Otis stands up and reaches down to yank me up with him. It was a long walk back to the house. He dragged me by the hair the whole way. When we made it “home” he brought me back to the room and threw me on the floor. “Stay right fucking there.” He shouts.

Otis is gone for a few moments but comes back with a bottle of whisky and a bandage. “Lay down on the fucking floor and don’t make a sound. If I hear a peep I swear to god you’ll wish you were dead.” He states sternly. I do as he says laying on the dirty floor, I hadn’t noticed but my neck had been bleeding quite a bit. Without any warning he pours the whisky on my neck, I bite my lip until it bleeds as to not make a sound. He wastes no time wiping away the blood and whisky. When he’s happy with the cleanliness he wraps my neck securely. I can feel the tears once again falling like a waterfall. Ripping me from my pity party, Otis pulls me up from the hair putting me back in my dreaded chair. Tying my hands the tightest he possibly could. “Dumb fucking bunny.” He whispers in my ear.

[mrsevans90]

Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 10

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller 

Warnings: smut (oral/m receiving), talks of period intercourse, detailed PTSD flashback, graphic death of character discussed, self-deprecating talk, language

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own. 

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading! 

Author's Note: This is a heavy chapter--- Big time PTSD flashback so consider yourself warned! Also, I purposely chose to not use characters in the flashback from the movie Sand Castle. I just didn’t want to kill off anyone’s fave character, so we are going to pretend this flashback was another mission from another deployment right before Sy retired not related to the movie. It was just easier for my conscious to write it that way. 

Part 9

All night long I have nightmares about the war. I wake and try to reset myself like the therapist taught me with deep breathing, water, change of environment, etc.; but nothing is working. I maybe only get about 2 hours of sleep total and I’m exhausted. I still go on my run to try and exhaust myself even more so that maybe tonight I will pass out into a dreamless sleep. I try to fake enthusiasm for whatever Nana is rambling on about in her phone call to me on the way to work but I’m sure she can tell that I’m starting to spiral. Alex can tell that today is one of those days so he asks me if I’m good and when I grunt at him he keeps his distance. God, I’m an ass but I’m obviously not good and I just can’t talk to him about it. Nobody really understands except the boys that I was with when it happened and several of them are dead now. I’m supposed to be their leader and I feel like I should have my shit together. My nightmares continue to worsen throughout the week and I feel like I overcompensate by working harder or exerting myself in more difficult physical pursuits in hopes of tiring my body and my brain out. I forced myself to run four additional miles on Friday even though my leg quickly protested. I focused on pushing through the pain and ended up having to ice my leg after work.

Friday evening finally rolls around, and Emma shows up at the house as planned with a little overnight bag in tow and homemade banana pudding. I’m cooking us some chicken and veggies out back on the grill when she arrives and I feel like I calm a bit just being in her presence. She still looks absolutely adorable as she shows up wearing comfortable clothes-a tank top and soft shorts. I love that she’s feeling relaxed enough with me to just be her most authentic self. After we eat, I fill my belly up with her decadent dessert and I swear I see stars. She’s quite the chef; as if she needed any more of a direct line to my belly or my heart. Assuming she’s still on her period, I ask her if she’s feeling alright and she nods but doesn’t offer more. I suggest we get in bed and watch a movie and she gleefully agreed. We get all cozied up in bed and she chooses a rom-com to put on. Not my first choice, but I’ll do anything to make her smile like that. It’s nice having someone other than myself warm my bed. We fall asleep easily tangled in each other and I’m relieved that I have no nightmares. Maybe Emma is the cure to my nightmares? Or did I really succeed in tiring myself out enough that I slept too hard to dream. Either way, I’m not complaining.

Saturday morning. I wake up at my usual time and smile to myself at finally getting a decent night of sleep. I lay in bed watching my girl dream before I decide to get up and go for a run. If it’s the exercise that helped me sleep last night, I’m not going to miss the opportunity to do it again. I leave a little note on Emma’s nightstand and decide to only run two miles today so I don’t fuck up my leg more than I probably already have. When I get back home, Emma is still a mess of hair and sheets and I can tell that she never missed me. Her hair is halfway across her face, one of her breasts is almost spilling out of her twisted tank top, and the covers are tangled all in her legs which brings a smile to my face. For someone so effortlessly beautiful, she’s kind of a mess when she sleeps and I can’t help but find that to be one of the most endearing things ever. I attempt to take a quick shower and am surprised when ice cold hands wrap around my stomach as my eyes are closed under the spray of the water and I jump like a cat. 

“Damn woman! Your hands are ice cubes.” I say as she laughs uncontrollably.

“Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She says as she hugs me from behind. 

“I woke up and heard the shower running so I figured you wouldn’t mind if I joined you.” 

“Always, join me Sugar. My favorite showers are the ones with you.” I tell her as I turn around to see her. She’s got her beautiful hair tied up in a bun on top of her head and I shift her so that the water runs down her body to warm her up. I spy her adjust the temperature higher and I can’t help myself.

“What is it with women taking showers equivalent to the heat of lava?” She smiles.

“We are colder than you are. Gotta warm up somehow.” She presses a sweet kiss to my lips before turning around and washing her body. I can’t help but stand there like a creep watching her but I’ll never turn down an opportunity to see her wet and soapy.

“I hope you don’t mind that I hijacked your shower.” She smiled sweetly.

“Darlin’, I was done anyway. Now I’m just here for the show.” I arch my eyebrow at her as she spies my obvious erection.

“Let me help you.” She seductively suggests.

“I can help us both.” I offer but she shakes her head.

“Still on my period.” She replies without making eye contact.

“So?”

“We can’t have sex when I’m on my period!” She looks completely shocked.

“Says who? You know, sex actually helps relieves cramps.”  

“But..I might get blood on your…”

“Dick? What’s your point?”

“Isn’t that gross?” 

“Sugar, I told ya, I’m a man. A little blood isn’t going to scare me off. Now if you’re not interested because you don’t feel well or you just don’t want too, I have no problem with that. But, if you’re not interested because you think I’m going to be grossed out or something, I promise I won’t be. You can have me anytime you want, Sweetness. There’s no pressure either way. If you’re uncomfortable with it, I won’t mention it again.”

“Maybe give me some time to come around to the idea of it. I’ve never really considered it as an option.”

“Sure thing, babygirl.”

“You are something else, Bear. You mean it when you said I can have you anytime I want?”

“Mmhmm.” I say as her fingertips trail down my abdomen and she wraps her hand around my throbbing cock.

“Can I taste you?”

“Always, but don’t feel like you have too. I’ll be alright if not.”

“I want too.” She says before pushing me towards the shower bench and taking me in her mouth. In no time at all, I’m coming down her throat after receiving one of the best blowjobs of my life. She has my legs trembling from the stimulation and I can’t help but caress her cheek and kiss her gently when I come back to reality.

“my EmKay.” I whisper as I kiss her tenderly.

“Your EmKay?” She asks. 

“Mmhmm.” 

“Funny, I don’t remember being asked to be yours.” She haughtily replies.

“Ya’ ain’t going to make this easy on me, are ya?” Shit, what am I doing. I should have thought this through. She shouldn't want to be with me. The unreal blowjob has me not thinking clearly.

“Now why would I do that?” She retorts with a smile. I palm her cheek so that she’s looking right at me.

“Will you be my woman?” I ask seriously. Fuck it. Why not?

“Only if you’re my man.” 

“Well, I’ve been told that I’m a bear, but I’ll be your man too.” I joke before pressing my lips against Emma’s in a feverish kiss.

As the water gets cold, we finally climb out and get dressed for the day. I decide to take Emma out for breakfast at the diner in town before we go in search of furniture for her guest bedroom. Her parents are arriving next weekend and it was adorable when she shyly asked me if I’d be willing to meet them. I assured her that I’d be happy too and to just let me know when.

We spend a few hours at the furniture store where Emma purchases a matching bedroom set before going to a mattress store and trying out all of the mattresses to determine which would be a good purchase for her guest bedroom. They are able to deliver it same day which is nice so we pick a time for it to arrive that afternoon. We then head to a department store so she can pick out curtains, bed linens, and other odds and ends that I’m told a room requires like lamps and decorations. Being a single man for the majority of my adulthood that was mostly away in the military, I didn’t realize how much work women put into buying all of this shit. Why does she need the guest bath towels to match the hand towel in the bathroom? Or all of the little knick-knack items she bought to go on the dresser? I’m even more confused when she was discussing bed trains? No bed skirts. I’ve slept on friends couches without even a blanket but she’s really rolling out the red carpet for her parents. It’s a bit concerning if they are expecting all of this from their daughter who has lived here for under two months. Maybe they don’t expect it and she’s just trying to show them that she’s a capable adult who plans on settling here. I watch as she spends a small fortune trying to get everything in order for their visit. It’s obvious that she values their opinions. What if they don’t like me? I’m certainly different from the preppy type of guy that they’re used to seeing her with. I’m kind of rough around the edges and although I think I’m pretty smart, I certainly don’t hold advanced degrees. I’m broken from my thoughts when Emma asks my opinion about curtains. It’s sweet that she wants my opinion but I’m a fish out of water when it comes to decorating.

We load up all of the stuff and head back to Emma’s house where I get started hanging curtains as we wait on the furniture and mattress delivery. Emma orders us pizza and we munch on pizza and beer for a while. I’m regretting all of my additional workouts after I finally get the bed put together and the mattress put on it. Emma tried to help but she’s so little I didn’t want her to hurt herself so I ended up just man-handling it myself. She had washed the new bedding and put everything together before we took a look at it and she dove across the top of the bed. Emma patted the space beside her and I laid down next to her on top of the comforter. 

“I’m fucking exhausted and I didn’t even lift the heavy stuff.” She exhaled.

“I didn’t realize it was so much work to put together a bedroom. You sure know what you’re doing though.”

“Thank you. I just pick what I like. I couldn’t have done it all without you though, so thank you, baby. I can’t wait to have them visit and see that I’ve got my shit together here. That I’m not some dumb kid who needs rescuing. I’m able to handle myself.” Ahh, so I was right about that. It’s about proving herself to her parents.

“I think they’ll be impressed, Sugar. I know I am.” I smile at her before yawning.

She kisses my lips before scratching my beard gently. 

“Can we go back to yours, shower and then go to sleep? I’m dead on my feet.” She asks as she stands up and fluffs the new pillows. Why are there like 5 pillows that will just get thrown on the floor? Seems wasteful.

“You still want to come back to mine with me?”

She nods. “I want to be with you and the pups. Since they are at yours, it wouldn’t make sense to get them and come back here. I always sleep really good with you…Unless you’re too tired for a sleep over.” She says sheepishly and I wrap my arms around her.

“Nothing could be better than having my girl in my bed with me.” I tell her because I’m beginning to believe it’s the truth. “Let’s go.” 

We turn out all of the lights and lock up before heading back to mine. Emma’s car is still parked out front from where she left it and it makes me happy that she wants to be here with me. There’s a summer storm approaching and the wind has picked up which has Emma’s hair twirling in the breeze. I pull the patio cushions inside when I let the dogs out to do their business. After a quick shower because we are both too tired to do anything but clean ourselves, we do our nighttime routines before climbing into bed. Emma snuggles next to me with her head on my chest and I’m confident that it’s going to be a good night as we drift off to sleep.

It’s hot, but more than just hot. It’s sweltering. I can feel the sweat rolling down my chest and my back. It’s the type of unbearable heat that has your clothes sticking to your skin the instant you walk out of the mess hall. Then you add your gear, and the added weight from your gear plus your sweat soaked clothes is a certain feeling that I’ll never forget. I smell the smoke of an explosion further in the distance. We have our orders and it’s my job to lead our special forces team in to execute our orders exactly like planned. The problem with that is that most things never go as planned. It would be easy for this to be a cookie cutter mission where we get in and out and go back to base and fuck around for the rest of the afternoon. No, this will require me thinking on my feet at every turn. It’s what I’m trained for, hell, I’m the best which is why I’m the captain. I’ve got seven men with me whose lives rely on me assessing our situation and giving correct orders. They are sons, husbands, fathers, brothers, and friends who have people waiting on them at home. Each order I give is weighted by the knowledge that I’m responsible for them. We’re crouched in different positions behind the old dilapidated building that the informant said our guy would be in. The sun is glaring across our faces but we’re in the best position we could be in for this mission. We’ve been after this specific hostile for months and never been this close to him before. We can hear men inside the building, yelling in Arabic and moving around so we must remain completely silent. If we can hear them, they could hear us. We are ghosts that can’t be seen or heard but must work as a team for this to go smoothly. If one person spots us, it will turn into a close-range gun fight that I can’t imagine we will all win. I inhale deeply and even though there is dust on every inch of myself and the ground, I try to focus my thoughts. 

As I am about to give orders to direct my guys to move on to the next step of our plan, I hear the tell-tale whistle of a bullet zipping through the air. I swivel to the left with my gun and look for the insurgent. I can’t see anyone but the bullet buries itself in the left shoulder of Waites across the way from me. We were fucking set up. I swing my gun back around and that’s when it happens, I hear the bullet and feel it explode into my lower left thigh at the same time blood spews from my friend, Goodwin’s head who had crouched beside me when I stood to look for the shooter. My leg gives out and I instantly drop down into the dirt to where I’m level with Goodwin’s face and it’s obvious, he was killed instantly. His eyes are still opened and he has a massive wound to the head. Anthony. Fuck. His girlfriend is expecting a baby girl in a few months. My leg is burning from the inside out but my adrenaline spike helps me ignore the pain and I grab my gun and instantly start shooting towards the rooftop where I believe the sniper might be. I hear Brown screaming before I realize he’s got Waites against the building and is yelling into the radio for help. I watch as insurgents start coming out of the building we were casing and I start taking them out. Lowell goes down. Setas is either hurt or attempting to provide aid to Lowell. I can’t tell but I never stop shooting. Ramirez is also trying to find the source of the ambush with his own gun. Bullets are flying, many from my own gun as I empty the clip into the only building the sniper could have been on, Browns pleas for backup, along with Waites heavy gurgling breaths fill my ears. I feel a hand on my arm and flinch.

            “Austin! Captain…Captain Syverson. Look at me.” Two hands on either side of my face help me focus in. “St..Stand down. You are safe, the threat has been eliminated. Your superiors have given orders to return to base for further instruction. Do you understand?” 

I blink against the water that’s dripping down my face. Emma?

“My men. The injured men in my unit. Where?”

“They are at base getting medical. Captain, I need you to confirm that you understand me.”

I blink and then nod slowly. “Roger that.” I mutter distractedly. I look around. I’m in the backyard of my house, leaning against the brick exterior in my underwear. I have my pistol tucked in the back of the waistband of my boxers and I’m wearing the boots I leave by the back door. In my hands I’m clutching my old hunting rifle that I keep on the top shelf of my closet. Shit. I’ve done it again. I’ve had a PTSD nightmare, but this is so much worse because Emma is here to witness it. I look over at her. She’s crouching on her knees in front of me wearing nothing but my water-soaked t-shirt and panties while she’s barefoot in the mud. Water is dripping from the ends of her hair from the rain that’s pouring down on us. She looks terrified and concerned. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” My throat aches either from unshed tears or maybe I was yelling earlier.

“Austin, baby, are you back?”

I nod. “Emma, I’m so sorry.” I mutter as tears mix with the rain that drips down my face. This is what I was afraid would happen if I got close to her. If I let her in. I would relax and then my past would quite literally present itself.

“Baby, don’t be. You’re okay, we’re okay.” She tells me as she reaches towards my face that’s now aimed at the ground.

“Aika?” 

“I left her inside. I know you said she could help but I wasn’t able to tell if your rifle was loaded and I didn’t want her startling you and there being an accident.” 

Jesus. She was afraid I’d shoot my own dog, because she’s right, I was nowhere near my right mind. Here we are over six months since my last flashback yet this was the most involved PTSD episode I’ve ever had. Thank fuck I keep my ammunition locked and separate from my guns for situations like this. 

She stands and reaches to help me up but I can’t let her help me stand. My leg feels as though it has been shot just yesterday but that could be a result of me crouching on my knees in freezing rain outside in the middle of the night, not just the psychological pain from my flashback. 

“Come on baby.” She takes the rifle from my hand and I don’t protest. I follow her silently back to the house. The air conditioning on our soaked skin has both of our bodies covered in goose bumps. Aika bounds to me whining and crying and I sit down in a chair from the table and run my hands through her thick fur. I bury my face into her back and focus on breathing. My palm clutches my leg that’s radiating phantom pain from where I got shot. Emma appears next to me with a towel but hesitates. 

“Can I help you clean up a bit?” She gestures with the towel.

I nod and she leans down and starts wiping the mud off of my legs. 

“Sugar, I…”

“Baby, nothing needs to be said. I’m okay, and you are going to be. Would you take a warm shower with me?” I look at her and want to just burst into tears. How is she so kind and understanding after what I just did? After what I could have done?

“Please?” She urges and I nod. I follow her to the master bathroom and watch as she turns the water on. Aika stays close and sits down behind me in the bathroom floor. I have no idea what time it is in the night or early morning or how long she’s been awake dealing with me. Emma pulls out two fresh towels for us and then whips the sodden shirt off of her torso before removing her panties. She looks at me and then slowly and gently eases my soaked boxer briefs down my legs before taking my hand and pulling for me to get in the shower. Once I step in, steam surrounds me and I take a deep breath. I’m exhausted, flashbacks always take the energy out of me and it’s not like I’ve been sleeping great this past week. Emma begins lathering a wash cloth with soap and gently starts cleaning me. I stand there perfectly still and let her do what she wants as I attempt to think of anything that I could say to make this situation better. I’m aching with embarrassment. Once she washes me, she quickly washes herself before turning around and caressing her hand on my cheek. She leans down and picks up my wrists that were laying limp by my sides and wraps them around her waist before putting her own around my neck. My eyes are aimed down focusing on the suds swirling around the shower drain.

“Baby, look at me.” She says with the sincerest and worried look on her face and that’s when my resolve breaks. I bury my face into her neck as the hot tears stream from my eyes. I can’t seem to stop them and I ache when I hear myself let out a sob that sounds so painful and broken even to my own ears. Emma tightens her arms around me and guides me back to the bench that we once used for a much different form of intimacy. Emma curls herself around me and holds me tightly while I fully break down. Once my breath starts to come easier, I carefully pull my head from her shoulder and try to clean my face up.

“Let’s dry off and lay down.” She says as she turns off the water and starts toweling me off. I gently take the towel from her, not wanting to be babied but not wanting to seem ungrateful. Once we dry off, Emma hands me some boxers and she tosses on a dry shirt and panties on before we sit on the bed. It’s silent and I feel like I have to say something.

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you must be thinkin’ but I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I woke you, scared you and I’m sorry I’m so fucked up. I completely understand if this is the last time I see you.” I say quietly and she looks shocked.

“Austin, I’m not going anywhere. This is what relationships are about. Holding each other through the good and bad. I’m not scared and you’re not fucked up. You’re haunted and although I don’t know the details of it, I want to help you through it. Even if you don’t want my help, I’m not leaving you.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I should be better. I survived, Damnit! I shouldn’t have any problems. Goodwin, Lowell, Waites, they are the ones who died. I just got shot in my stupid fucking leg after leading them to their deaths!” I sob.

“You are allowed to have problems. Their deaths are hard on you but you are not responsible for it. I don’t know what happened, but I know it’s not your fault.”

“The informant set us up, we were ambushed. Goodwin, God. Goodwin got shot right in front of me. I watched the life drain from his eyes. He has a little girl that he’s never met. If I had questioned the mission from my superiors or done more digging on the informant, they would all be alive right now. I had to look at their family members at their funerals and I’ll never forget the grief from their loved ones. Goodwin’s pregnant girlfriend, Lowell’s widow, Waites’ mom. I still see them sobbing over their caskets in my mind. I didn’t deserve to live when they didn’t get too.” I finally say out loud. I take deep breaths attempting to calm my body from going into another spiral.

“Bear.” Emma reaches for me.

“It’s been years and I still get like this. Hell, it might be getting worse. I don’t think this is something I’ll just get over. I’m too fucked up, Emma. You deserve someone who doesn’t have these types of demons.” My eyes blink heavily.

“You are not fucked up. I deserve you because you treat me better than I’ve ever been treated before.” My eyes droop and I know it’s a result of the flashback. When I have them, my body goes through the trauma all over again so when the adrenaline finally stops coursing through my body, I basically crash.

“Love, you look exhausted. Can you try to sleep for me?” She asks and gently pushes for me to lay down. My head is resting between her breasts as she lays back on her back. We’ve never laid like this before but it’s comforting.

“I’m right here, I’m not leaving. Aika’s here and so is Mills.” She tells me while caressing my head but my eyes are already closed, too heavy to fight staying open longer. I wrap my arm around her waist and within moments, I’m deeply asleep soothed by the steady rhythm of Emma’s heartbeat as she caresses my scalp.

Part 11

Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood

[evilwickedme]

I just. Ugh. Oh my God. The fucking PARALLELS this season of Good Omens. Y'all know I'm an absolute fool for a good parallel, so to get so many? I'm so well fed today

Crowley and Azira are like, the definition of soulmates of the kind that are made, you know? Like there is no one single other being in the whole of Creation that shares even a fraction of the same experiences. Six thousand years in the making, this ship is - even more according to this season !!! And YET, they are absolutely brand new. They've never been in a romantic relationship - not with each other, not with anyone - and as Crowley pointed out, they've essentially just gotten out of toxic relationships with Heaven and Hell. Except like, not really? Because we see Crowley really got out Heaven so heavily traumatized he never really put all that much stock into Hell. Yeah, Hell might've still been abusive, but Crowley was halfway out the door the whole time. Azira, tho... He still buys into all of it. He's technically out the door, but he hasn't done any of the deprogramming you need to do in order to move on (I feel like I'm mixing my metaphors a little by using cult-related languages, but also abusive relationships are essentially two person cults, so)

And this season sets this dynamic up so perfectly with Nina and Maggie!!!!! And we're supposed to think that Nina is Crowley because she's dark and broody and Maggie is Azira cause she's frankly precious but really it's the other way around and it's Nina who finishes the season being like "I can't be in a relationship right now because I still need to work on myself having just ended an incredibly toxic relationship" and it's just. Nina and Maggie don't end the season together because that's not what they need right now and bc of that they might still be able to be together later, but Crowley and Azira hold onto each other SO DAMN HARD that they end up losing each other SPECIFICALLY BECAUSE AZIRA CAN'T DO THAT SAME THING OF UNPACKING HIS BASE ASSUMPTIONS it's like leaving a cult cause they were mean to you once but still buying into the new agey stuff they used to love bomb you into joining the cult in the first place

And so that's the relationship part of things but also we've got like soo many parallels showing how broken the system is in the first place and obviously ineffable bureaucracy is what stands out here because of the literal lines coming out of various characters' mouths during this plotline but can we talk about how heavily brainwashed Muriel is and how clearly they're supposed to be exactly like a young Aziraphale, one who doesn't "have" Crowley yet!!! Like tell me that if you gave Muriel a fiery sword and told them to watch over the first ever pregnant couple in history they wouldn't give them that Goddamn sword. Nobody on either side is capable of questioning their position in life without exposure to Something Else, but it doesn't have to be like, the being you're going to run off to alpha centauri with. It could very much be a copy of The Crow Road

(sidenote, has anybody read this book? It seems like an incredibly deliberate choice but I've never heard of it! I think I might send in an ask to Neil Gaiman himself if I don't see any meta soon)

Anyway yeah um. I don't know how to end this. Parallels and shadow selves fuck (double entendre)

[sugar-plum-writer]

The Serene Peony Of Winter

Paring: Sukuna!King of Curses x Fem!Geisha Reader

Tags: Slight! mention of violence; Fem!reader; Sukuna!imagines; will be 18+ as more chapters come; slow!burn, [I want to have a good build up!], an ancient Japan romance through time with darling reader~

[If you all like it, please heart and reblog the post! to know you want to read more~ and follow for chapter updates! or leave a comment to tag you when I put out new chapters~ I will do my best to roll out UPDATES ASAP!] New Chapter! @naoyagasm @janeaugustine @teonawrites @periwinkless-universe @rosemaydone321 @may-machin @annoyingstrawberryballoon

CHAPTER - 5

Orange, red, and brown lights emerged and merged with- the soil- the trees- and the sky. Blending- melting- drowning like the sun. Walking barefoot down the mountains, carrying a bamboo basket with firewood as the sun set. You were walking until- a big hand covered your mouth from behind choking you.

You kicked, screamed, and yelled but no voice came out. With a thud your body was knocked out cold and unconscious on the ground.

"Wake up!" a sharp piercing voice echoed "W-where am I?", looking up, your dirt-covered face as blood trickled down the corner of your mouth "Hmm…not bad you found quality goods", a lady puffed her pipe gazing at you

"Girl"

Leaning in she grabbed you by the jaw "You are no longer who you were, your parents have sold you for money- from now on…I own you you will call me Oka-san", you coughed as the scent of herbs entered your nostrils.

Tears trickled down as you felt your reality shatter- many girls in your village were given away it was common whenever famine broke out, they had no choice, - life was worse than death.

Your whole past was stripped away- you were trained to be the perfect Geisha. From tea-making to smiling, everything, even your hand movements. Having to suppress your emotions, dealing with men, and your family trauma. But all you were told-

"At least you are not a street whore, abused and thrown away abandoned. Be grateful, not to be living like that", with a snicker as the Oka-san puffed her pipe.

Many times you dissociated- and imagined stabbing, ripping everyone to shreds as you brewed tea, you needed an outlet, but none existed- as you danced under the blood moon, with ghouls and corpses consuming your mind. Reality distorted, bleeding from your brain came out insects of darkness creeping and crawling all over your skin eating your hollow body.

"Erase myself from existence"

With that thought you separated yourself from reality living in a third-person perspective, and were used for all your worth by all.

Lost

"What?", the atmosphere was very gloomy, the creepy crawling cruses that hung all over the room previously - could not even be seen

"They did all of this to you? Used you, betrayed you, sold you, and threw you away?", The sharpness in his tone and voice made you lower your head further

"Yes, it was-", you nodded as you felt tears trickle down your eyes emerging from your heart down to your soul, "My life before though was dire at least I had my parents- but- they are all dead now, first years in the Okiya house- were worse than a nightmare", you curled up as memories of past stained the ground rolling down your eyes.

Without another word, he threw a scroll toward you

"Write"

"Wh-What? What should I write?", opening the scroll you looked at him bewildered as tears filled your eyes.

"Y/n, the names of people who hurt you, don't ask too many questions", rather than a menacing look, it was chilling cold- so much anger that rather than throwing hands- he threw you an executioners list.

"What- what are you going to do to them!?", feeling your heart sink you couldn't help but lash out. Throwing the scroll away, "It's not like I can get justice!?"

He burst out laughing

"Honey, I am justice", looking into your eyes with a smirk, "Whatever I do and say itself is justice", he leaned in with a grin and whispered breathily near your ears-

"I will drag justice from the depths of the Earth and Heaven- dropping it in your lap"

Stunned you looked at him lips parted in shock- not knowing why- but for the first time in years- you felt a sense of adrenaline and thrill, your brain and body elated- all shackles gone.

"What is the price ?", your hands holding onto the scroll nervously as you looked at him biting your lips

"You Y/n, give yourself to me, and those who make you wail, I will erase them all "

That night the Sanzu River descended onto the Earth, making Higanbana bloom and it became your resting place- under the blood moon as it rained blood.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Sitting as you gazed out from your window, hair flowing down, still- peaceful like a painting. So serene, so red, eyes holding whispers of the devil. Screams of people echoed around you as dead bodies littered the ground, some chopped, others limbs and bones ripped out with guts on fire.

Tap

"You are not asleep yet?", with a grin he walked in

"No, it's too noisy"

"Shall I rip their mouths out then?", wrapping his hands around your waist, he snickered

"Or their throats, your pick Y/n", he caressed your thighs

"Both sound, horrible, how about none", turning around you gazed at him

"Then…shall I drown out the noise?"

"I ask…one question"

"Still you have more questions?", he rolled his eyes

"Why…do you love me? If you were not the King of curses or see curses, would you still be able to see my pain?", looking him in the eyes as you took in a shaky breath

"Why? it's simple, I love you Y/n, do I need a reason? whatever gives me pleasure is mine", pressing his body against yours- leaning in he kissed your neck with a bite

"As for pain, even if you were blind, just your shadow is enough for me to know your soul"

His body was the Sanzu river to drown yourself in, a still water to rest in, his eyes guiding you to afterlife and heaven- his hands being the home for your existence "So tell me, does my answer satisfy you? Will you touch yourself for me Y/n?"

Footnotes: The Sanzu river is part of Japanese Mythology, the Japanese believe that before reaching the afterlife, the souls of the deceased must cross the river by one of three crossing points: a bridge, a ford, or a stretch of deep, snake-infested waters. The weight of one's offenses while alive determines which path an individual must take. Footnote: Check out masterlist for all chapters!