#also burning it would be horrible horrible irony

[two-hearts-beat]

just watched the movie 'the dinner' 😳 think I'm gonna have to burn the dvd

[thebiballerina]

I mostly concur with the above reblogger, but I wanted to add one thing:

I wouldn't say that anything you do will have zero impact. There are SOME things you can do that will have an impact, if you choose to put your time and energy into this issue. (Which you are not obligated to do, to be clear, unless you have some sort of role or job which implies that sort of responsibility.)

You aren't necessarily helpless. But subscribing to OP's mindset is a really good way to make yourself helpless.

I've seen that mindset, repeatedly. I had that mindset, at one point in time. You know what changed that, more than anything else? Becoming an actual activist.

The activists who hold on to the mindset that a mental health break is selfish? The ones that can't or won't emotionally distance themselves? The ones that don't acknowledge their right to care for themselves because someone, somewhere is suffering worse than them? They don't last, and they don't help.

The good ending for that road is to burn out, and then not be able to help anymore. The bad ending is to fall heavily into compassion fatigue, and then be so desensitized and unable to care that you cause real harm. Or there's the other bad ending, which is that you neglect yourself so thoroughly that you end up hurt, sick, or dead (and maybe hurt others while you are at it). You might even manage to do all three of these things.

If you want to make a real impact on more than a minuscule scale, you not only need to allow yourself mental health breaks (which, yes, sometimes include disengaging completely), you need to accept that they aren't selfish at all. They are sometimes the only way you'll be able to preserve your ability to help. Feeling personally affected by an issue is valid, and sometimes unavoidable, but it doesn't correlate to how much of a difference you make.

Hurting yourself doesn't automatically help others. Many of us have heard metaphor which references the airplane safety instruction to put on your oxygen mask before helping others do so. It's a good metaphor. A suffocating person isn't going to thank you for the valiant gesture of suffocating yourself alongside them, when you had the option to save the both of you.

I believe in sacrifice, in some cases. I believe in acknowledging my privilege. But sacrifice generally implies that you are giving something up to help someone else. If you are just giving something up… it's more suffering in the world, not less.

Do you want to actually help? I bet you there are activism campaigns that would love to have you, in a variety of forms and levels of commitment. Including entirely remote efforts, if you aren't in a position or location to engage in in-person efforts. That goes for any cause, not just this one.

And you'll make a lot more difference in that sphere if you prioritize your impact, instead of your devotion to the issue.

i think anyone who is genuinely worried about their mental health bc of the situation in gaza probably needs to reformat their way of thinking about it. the answer is not to take a “mental health break” where you pretend whats happening in gaza doesnt exist and stop being vocal and refuse to hear people around you who are vocal. the way to do that “mental health break” much more effectively and not selfishly would be to remove yourself from constant streams of idiotic and/or murderously evil people. stop watching tiktok debates. stop reading genocidal reddit comments and news articles from sources you KNOW want palestine dead. stop putting the focus on the murderers and keep your attention on sympathy and love for the murdered, on hope and optimism (even if naive) and activism to do your part in making things better. dont get me wrong the murderers still need to be dealt with but if you as an individual feel like you’re getting too overwhelmed with despair to be helpful, the answer is to shift your focus away from those causing the despair, not to ignore and abandon those who have to actually live through it.

[xveenusx]

Love

Paring(s): rafe cameron x fem!reader

Summary: in which two people come to terms with how dangerous their love is, but it's impossible to leave.

Author's note: Rafe on his knees is sending me. This is part two to Hate and is complete angst because I like to hurt my own feelings. ALSO, the GIFS depict exactly what's going to happen in this peice to help you visualize it better :)

Rating: ANGSTY, but kind of a good ending but not really bc they are horrible for each other

Warnings: v toxic relationship

Part 1: Hate

━━ ★ Masterlist

_____________________

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

My head hung against the cool tile in the shower, water pounding against my body as I fought against the urge to succumb to my pain.

You won't ever be over me

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Yet, it didn't work. I couldn't block out his words as they pistoled into my mind again and again. Slapping my hand against the tile, I groaned out loud and rubbed my eyes.

Memories of my mistake continue to stampede over every coherent thought I could form. It was embarrassing how easily I gave into him, but when he touched me, all sense went out the window.

He was the chink in my armor, because when he loved me, I mean really loved me, the sun shined brighter and the world went into focus. He could ask me anything and I would have told him in a heart beat. There was just this sense of security that finally gave me the ability to be myself. I felt like I was safe and solid ground for the first time in my life.

But as time went on, there were small slip ups that caught my attention. The hushed meetings with his father, his eagerness to be around my friends, the constant Q and A about gold.

I pushed passed the alarm bells ringing in my head because I didn’t want it to end. I caught him in lie after lie which always ended in a screaming match. I’d storm away but it always ended in us finding our way back to each other. Always.

Maybe it’s wrong to say this, but I was relieved that he needed me just as bad as I needed him. He couldn’t seem to leave me alone either.

The longer we were together, I couldn’t help but begin to question why he was really with me. The idea of there being an ulterior motive for loving me paralyzed me with fear.

Because, if that was true, I didn't think I'd survive it.

So like a junkie, in every sense of the word, I gave into the drug that was Rafe Cameron and gave him anything he wanted. I became an entirely different person that I didn't recognize.

I was so desperate to be loved by him that it almost killed me.

A familiar burning behind my eyes made me smile in irony. Tears usually accompanied anything that involved Rafe.

I slowly slid down the shower wall, bringing my knees to my chest, and set my chin on top. Closing my eyes, I attempted to focus on the pounding of the water but despite the noise, it couldn’t overpower the noise in my head.

Detoxing was nearly impossible. I'd take another dose, and then another, but when the high eventually wore of—because it always did—this is what was left:

A shell of me withered down in self loathing.

I hate you.

No, you don't.

The water eventually turned cold but I refused to move from my spot on the floor. I just couldn't face him, not yet.

It hurt to fucking look at him.

A fist pounded on the bathroom door but I chose to ignore it. I shivered slightly at the ice cold water but preferred this biting pain over what awaited me on the other side of that door.

"Open the door."

I turned my head away from the door and instead rested my cheek on the top of my knee and stared at the wall.

"I'm not fucking kidding. Open the door, why is this shit locked anyway?"

I rolled my eyes. The dramatics were unmatched.

"Go away." I croaked out, hoping for once in his god damn life that he listened. "I swear to god."

"I'm shaking in my boots, babe."

Jesus Christ.

"Rafe-"

"I can hear you crying from out here."

That shut me up. I thought I was being discreet. "I'm fine. Please go away."

He pounded on the door again. "Do you really think a locked door is gonna stop me?."

My eyes closed briefly at his words. The organ in my chest that refused to listen to reason began to beat a little harder.

"Rafe, please. I need a minute." My voice cracked at the end of my plea.

It was quiet for a few moments before I heard his feet shuffle away. I relaxed in relief at his departure and lifted my head directly under the water, hoping it will clear my mind.

"Fuck this." Was all I heard before a sharp crack echoed and the door busted open.

My gaze found his and it took all my strength to not shrink under his gaze. I'm sure I was a sight for sore eyes, curled up on the floor of the shower shivering.

Rafe let out a distressed noise before moving towards me but I scooted back, throwing my palm up. “Stop.”

He stopped in his tracks with narrowed eyes. “You have about five seconds.”

“Boundaries. We need boundaries.”

“Boundaries?” He repeated slowly, making it seem like the term was foreign to him. “What the fuck for?”

“Because I need a moment. Let me cry in peace.”

Rafe nodded his head and relief let me drop my shoulders.

“Well, I’m not leaving you alone when you cry, there, that’s my boundary.”

I open my mouth and close it. He couldn’t be serious?

He shut off the water while letting out a string of curses as he took in my shivering figure. Yanking a towel off the rack, I'm suddenly enveloped in warmth as he wrapped the towel around my body and picked me up.

His scent lured me in like an old friend. Exhaustion weighed on me heavily so I gave in yet again.

I shoved my face into his neck enjoying the warmth his body provided and the shivering slowly subsided. Rafe said nothing as he set me on the edge of the bed and softly began to dry me.

He was gentle despite the severe expression he wore.

“We should probably talk.” He uttered, running the towel along my legs.

I shook my head, the desire to sleep was overwhelming.

Rafe paused. “I can already feel you pulling back from me.”

He knew me all too well.

Arguing him was pointless. We’d both end up with our voices gone and nothing solved.

“I can’t do this with you right now. I just want this day to be over.” I spoke quietly, fiddling with my fingers.

Rafe doesn’t answer me, instead he grabs some satin set and slowly started to dress me. Lifting my arms, he pulled the thin tank over my head before kneeling down and doing the same with the bottoms.

It was moments like this that almost made me cave. Rafe Cameron, of figure eight, heir to a real estate empire, was down on his knees for a Pogue.

Pressing a gentle kiss to my inner knee, he stood up, towering over me with his hand cupping my face. His face was the picture of relaxed despite our current kidnapping, but I knew it was solely because we were together.

“This can’t happen again.” The words were out of my mouth in seconds.

He just smiled, humming softly to himself as he continued to stare.

So I tried again. “You can sleep on the floor.”

That made the smile drop fast.

“You want me to sleep on the floor?”

“Yes.”

“Like the actual floor?” Rafe asked slowly, his gaze moving down to the hard wooden floor in distaste.

“The fucking floor, Rafe.”

His eyes narrowed at my tone, “Why?”

“Because I said so.” Because, my panties will be off in seconds.

“Try again. I’ll argue with you all night until you tell me why.”

“Does this not hurt you as much as it hurts me? Looking at you fucking kills me.”

“I’m going to marry you. It might not be today, it might not be tomorrow. But I will marry you," He said the words so nonchalantly, you would think he was discussing the weather, "So no, it doesn’t hurt me to look at you, to be around you, because I know this is never going to end. I'm going to spend the rest of my life with you."

I waited, for what seemed like forever, to hear him say these words. Yet, now that he did, I simply didn't believe it. Too much has happened. His words no longer held the weight that they used to and for a brief moment I felt a twisted sense of relief because that meant I was one step closer to being free of the shackles that chained me to him.

My brows furrowed as I tried to think of something to say, but nothing came out.

I shook my head and crawled towards the front of the bed, tugging the sheets down and burrowing myself into a cocoon. "Go to sleep, Rafe."

He muttered something under his breath as he walked over to the makeshift bed on the floor. I heared some shuffling before a heavy sigh echoed in our room and I knew he finally settled.

It was for the best. My sanity needed to remain intact and this was the only way. That didn't stop me from missing the warm embrace of his body that always lulled me to sleep.

Rolling onto my side, I peaked over the side of the bed and saw his head already turned in my direction. A faint smirk tugged at the coner of his lips and his eyes sparkled with amusement.

"You still want me on the floor?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes." No.

Rafe let out a chuckle before silence enveloped us and the only thing I could hear was the sound of our steady breathing. All trace of humor left his face and we stared at each other, his eyes never leaving mine. It almost appeared like he was commiting my face to memory.

"You're safe. You can go to sleep," Rafe murmured, "I won't let anything happen to you."

A familar rush of affection slammed into my chest and I forced myself to break eye contact first. I couldn't let him see the expression that adorned my face. He was embedded deeply into my soul.

"I-" I love you.

Rafe cut me off, "I know."

Curled on my side with the sheets pulled up to my neck, I closed my eyes and whispered painfully, "I wish I didn't."

I could feel his gaze burning holes into my back, but I knew better than to turn around. Sleep, I told myself, everything will be better tomorrow.

Minutes passed and I knew he wasn't going to answer.

"I know that too." Was all I heard before I embraced the darkness with open arms.

_______________

Disoriented.

That's how I woke up. My eyes felt heavy and my head drummed against my skull. This pain comparable to only being severely hungover. Yet, I barley had anything at all. It was simply the Rafe effect, also known as extreme emotional distress.

I rubbed the sleepiness from eyes while my mind betrayed me with replays of the last 24 hours. Peering over the edge of the bed, Rafe is sprawled out awkwardly on the ground sleeping. His bare chest slowly rising up and down, his necklace gleaming from the morning light that seeped into the room.

It hurt to look at him, but when I looked away, it hurt even more. The fear of forgetting what he looked like or how he sounded when he laughed consumed me. What if everything faded?

Love and hate were more similar than one would think.

As if sensing I was was awake, Rafe shifted onto his side and opened his eyes slowly. I watched as his eyes took in our surroundings before last 24 hours finally hit him.

Instantly, his eyes find mine and his body relaxes, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

He got up from his spot on the floor and made his way over to me. Sleepiness still present in his eyes, but his face was content. The bed dips and a warm hand pushed my hair out of my eyes before tracing my nose then the outline of my lips.

"Good morning." The low raspy timber of his voice had me clenching my thighs together.

I allowed myself these few seconds to bask under the glow of his attention. Swallowing down the lump in my throat at what I'm about to do, I steel the storm of emotions that brew inside me.

Moving my face out of his grasp, I shifted my body into a sitting positon, placing a slight distance between us. "I meant what I said last night. This will not happen again."

The words burned coming out my mouth.

"Can we just skip this part?"

I shot him a blank look. "What part?"

He heaves out a sigh, his large hand rubbing against his buzzed head. "Aren't you tired?"

Did he hit his head? Confused filled me as I glanced at the unmade bed. "Tired? I just slept-"

Rafe barked out a bitter laugh. "Of running. Aren't you tired of running?"

My fingers gripped my satin top in an attempt to control my anger. He would choose this exact moment to bait me. Maybe six months ago I would have taken the bait, but I was drained.

He always chose the hard way.

"Really? You want to have this conversation now?" Keep calm. Breathe.

Rafe searched my face with a serious expression, then his lips tipped. "I don't know if you remember, but we have all the time in the world."

I rolled my eyes. Despite my very weak attemps at pushing him away, Rafe never seemed discouraged. He only appeared mildly annoyed at my desperate attempts to kick him out of my life.

"You're about 6 months late on your right to have this conversation. Now, get off of my bed." I tried to shove him off. Nothing.

Blue eyes narrowed. Good, I hope he was mad. He'll finally understand what it was like to be me the past couple months.

"If you're trying to piss me off, it's working. So stop." Was all he said, with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Stop doing what, Rafe? There is nothing left to talk about."

"Stop acting like you don't care."

Rafe's determined attitude was exhausting.

And somehow, despite everything, I still felt myself drawn to him, even after how poorly he's treated me.

"Acting like I don't care is all I have left." My stomach tightened at my honesty.

His cold blue eyes grew distant, clearly not liking my truth.

"You have me."

The conviction in his voice would make anyone believe him, but I wasn't going to fall for his pretty words again, no matter how badly I wished they were true.

"No, I don't. I never did so this entire conversation is pointless." I stated a matter-of-factly. "Do yourself a favor and walk away."

Clicking his tongue, Rafe shook his head at me. "There you go again, telling me what I can and cannot do."

I had to hurt him to just get the distance I needed. He'd leave me alone if I hurt him.

"What are you gonna do? Tell your dad on me?" The minute the words flew out of my mouth, I regretted them.

Artic eyes narrowed into slits and his entire demeanor shifted, his shoulders tense and face hard. "Don't talk about him."

"Got daddy issues, do you?" My mouth would not stop.

I could see that I was successfully hitting my target, but it only made my heart ache. It needed to be done though.

Rafe's expression shut off, a familiar cold look settling in his eyes. "Tread fucking lightly."

My heart thudded dangerously as I debated my next words. "I might not hate you today or tomorrow, but I will hate you. Because, hating you is better than loving you."

The words tasted like vinegar coming out of my mouth, but they had their desired effect.

Agony briefly flickers on his face, but he schooled his expression. His eyes seemed to bore through me, our stare off so intense, that I had to look away.

If I believed he could change, even if there was a slight chance, then I would have fought for us. But, I knew him like the back of my hand and Rafe was who he was—unapologetically. I didn't have any fight left.

"I know what you're doing." His voice trembled, dark and on the verge of breaking.

I closed my eyes in defeat. Of course he did. I couldn't even hurt him without him seeing straight through me.

"You want to make me the bad guy? Fine. I'm the bad guy, bad Rafe Cameron. But don't pretend for one second that I'm not under your skin just as bad."

"You are, you are and it's exhausting," I grimaced. "Does knowing that make you feel better?"

"Yes, it does because I'm not the only one feeling like this."

My throat clogged. "How much longer can we keep doing this?"

"As long as it takes for you to give in." Rafe stroked a strand of hair behind my ear, the clouds of his eyes gleaming with twisted adortion.

Frustration bubbled up the surface. He was relentless in his pursuit, not caring if he hurt me in the process. As long as I was his, nothing else matterd, even my pain.

"This isn't a game. I am not a game." I stated harshly, shoving his hand away. "I'm a person--a person who has feelings."

His expression reamined unreadable. "A person with feelings for me."

I was losing. Badly. Talking to Rafe was like talking to a brick wall.

"I've had to put myself together three times, Rafe. Three times!" I screamed, my voice cracking in despair. "Each time harder than the last."

"I finally glued myself together again and you're already pulling away the pieces. For how long am I yours this time? A week?" I pushed. "A month?"

"You've moved on before so do it again. Let me do the same." I cleared my throat to push back tears.

"You think I haven't tried?" He asked incrediously, throwing his hands up in the air in utter disbelief.

Rafe stalked over to me, his eyes brewing with anger as he pointed to the veins in his arms. "You're in so deep, I can't get you out of my system."

I knew the feeling all too well. I am not going to cry.

"'You're right here. Right fucking here and you won't go away." He reached for my hand and placed it directly on his heart which pounded wildy under my touch.

My resolve was breaking and my previous anger easing away like a silent wave. He didn't have any peace either.

The heavy weight on my chest had me leaning forward, resting my forehead against his pec, my hand still in his grasp, pressed tightly against his heart.

"Loving you almost ruined my life." Rafe was a cliff. One that I threw myself over again and again, expecting to fly only to be met with cold hard concrete.

"Again with the meladrama?" Spell broken once more. Another peice being peeled away from me.

A joke, this was all a joke to him.

"You're not listening to me. You never listen to me." I shouted directly into his face, pointing to myself, needing him to finally fucking see me.

Tears finally fell from my eyes as I stared at him with pathetic hoplessness.

"How is what I did any worse than what you did?" The world stopped spinning as his words hit my chest. Something inside me broke.

I shook my head in utter diesbelief at his words. I pushed to my feet, my hands collided with his chest as I shoved him with all my strength.

I headed straight towards the bedroom door, slamming my fists against the door in an attempt to get the guards attention. I was slowly suffocating in this room. He always managed to do this to me.

I should've known better. I mean really known better. Rafe was a mindfuck.

"Run away one more time and I swear to god-" Rafe advaced toward me, his hands reaching out for me.

No, he needed to keep his hands to himself.

"Don't talk to me." I spat, holding my hand up. Facing the door once again, I pound several more times with no response before accepting defeat.

Slumping against the door with my forehead resting against the cool wood, I pleaded, "I can't be in here any more. I just can't."

Once again, no answer.

"We're talking about this. You don't get to avoid this conversation anymore."

"Want to try that again-stop!" Rafe bent down and tossed my body over his shoulder. Anger burned through my veins as I struggled against his grip, but it did nothing to deeter him as he stalked us over to the bed.

Dropping my body roughly on the bed, he towered over me and met my gaze, warning clear in his eyes.

Swallowing my pride, I dug my nails into the soft flesh of my palms. "You can't compare our actions. They aren't even on the same playing field, Rafe,"

"I can and I am comparing them, because believe it or not baby, it's the same damn thing."

Rafe was standing directly in front of me, his large thighs caging my dainty figure in. My chest heaved up and down in anger.

"Is that what you tell yourself so you don't have to deal with the fact that you're a shitty person? I'm not listening to this." My gaze was frantic as I tried to figure out an escape plan.

"I've clearly been too nice. You don't have a fucking choice. "

"Rafe, stop it."

"No, you stop it. Why are you acting like you expected me to be a nice guy? I'm not and never will be. So, you're going to sit here and listen to what I have to say." He tone harsh and unnegotiable, grasping my chin in between his fingers.

I glared, meeting his harshness with mine. Fingers threaded into my hair as he forced my head back to stare at him.

"You knew exactly who I was when you met me. You saw the good, bad, and the ugly and still chose to fucking love me," He snarled, his hand slammed against his chest, "to love me."

Oh god. Was he right? He was.

"Then you leave me for being who you fell in love with?" Rafe's body was shaking as he jerked my head back towards his face when I tried to look away. "Knowing who I am and loving me anyway, just for you to walk away. Am I that easy to walk away from? "

His gaze was expectant but he already knew the answer. No, he wasn't easy to walk away from. It almost killed me each and every time.

"No." I answered, my voice so low it came out as a whisper.

"How is that any more cruel than what I did to you?" I couldn't answer becuase he was right. My heart bled at this point as I tried to scramble some coherent thought. I wanted to say something, anything to counter his statements but fell short.

A sob caught the back of my throat.

"So get the fuck off your high horse. I beat up Pope on figure 8 and guess who kept my bed warm after that?" He mused, his fingers brushing against my knees forcing them open more. "I shot and killed Sheriff Peterkin and you consoled me."

I gulped for air but it seemed like nothing was reaching my lungs. He was right. We were so inextricably linked that his darkness became my own. It was so easy for me to excuse all of his horrible actions simply because I love him.

The laugh he let out sent shivers down my spine. "Fuck, I almost drowned Sarah and you still opened your legs for me. Still loved me, didn't you?"

Horror filled every cell in body. I curled my arms into myself as pain slashed through my heart while my hands and arms shook.

"So which one of us is really fucked up?" Me. Him. Both.

Rafe pulled his lip into his mouth as he regarded me with dark eyes. Leaning over me, he brought his mouth to my ear, the ghost of his breath causing shivers to wrack down my spine. "The answer is between your legs."

I stopped breathing. Wetness seeped onto the silk bottoms leaving an obvious stain on my pants. I tried to close my legs, but Rafe let out a little tisk.

I thought I had a chance to save myself before I got stuck in the trecherous storm that was Rafe Cameron. I was doomed the moment I met him.

He smiled at me almost as though he knew I reached the same conclusion as he did.

Rafe lowered to his knees, resting directly in between mine, with his hands raised up. I stare down at him with broken eyes, my handsome monster kneeling on the ground for only me.

When he saw I made no point to move, his large calloused hand covered my shaking ones while the other softly grazed the damn spot in between my legs causing me to visibly tremble.

"Do you get it now? There is no after for us. There is and always will be an us." The words were spoken softly, but firm. Though his eyes weren't on me, and in stead were in between my lefs. His hold on my hands being the only thing anchoring me.

I did. I hated that I loved him. I hated how he'd never leave. I especially hated how I couldn't leave. I hated my body's gross reaction to him and his filthy words.

"I love you."

My head jerked up, eyes wide with surprise at his confession.

"I do. That's why I wear the necklace and the cufflinks." He answered my question. He finally answered my question.

Before I could respond, a soldier bursted into the room with narrowed eyes. He took in the scene before him before relaxing but my body was snapped with tension.

Rafe looked down at our hands before standing up slowly and letting go. "Trust me."

He was asking in the only way he knew how, by demanding. He'd broken so many promises before that the trust between us was in shards. I found myself nodding anyways.

I'd already been broken before, what was once more?

In seconds, Rafe lunged toward the solider with his hands fisting along the shoulders of the man's bulletproof vest. Slamming his body hard to the ground, Rafe climbed on top before lifting the man's body and slamming it against the floor again and again.

He dragged his fist back before slashing it with quick and brute force against the soldier's face. Blood splattered against the white tiled floors as the man groaned in pain.

Rafe didn't stop. His knuckles becoming a marred mess due to them being split open. He didn't even wince.

"Get the gun." A loud ringing noise echoed in my ears as I stared at the unconcious man on the floor who's face was unrecognizable.

"Baby, get the gun." The term of endearment pulled my out of my head. Rafe's electric eyes stared at me with urgency and darted to the side.

I moved my head in the direction of his stare and see a black gun several feet away. My brain shut off and body felt numb as I picked it up with trembling hands.

My steps were timid and hestitant as I walked back over to him. He held out his hand, the rings shining in the light. "Bring it here."

For a second, a brief second, the thought of shooting him crossed my mind. I could be free of him. I could do it.

No, I couldn't. I loved him. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

I rested the heavy pistol in his hand and watched as he dug through the man's pocket and grabbed a phone. "We're getting out of here. I have my boat parked somewhere here on the island. We get to it and we can go wherever you want. Just me and you."

Rafe stood and stepped towards me, determination in his eyes, with his hand held out for me to grab.

I took a sharp intake of breath. My blood rushed loudly in my ears as I decided what I was about to do. My friends, my life, were they worth losing for him?

His necklace sparkling against the sun and those cuflinks shining against his shirt caught my attention.

Our souls were wired together, infused. I was a monster. Just like him.

Loving Rafe was a death sentence. Little did I know—I was already dead.

I reached for his hand.

_________________

Psycho toxic rafe is the man of my dreams but also my nightmares :) They are both crazy though clearly and need help.

Let me know what you think! Next up is Conrad fucking Fisher and I assure you, your heart will be broken.

Tag list: @narcissuspetal @valeriedelevingne @harrys-humble-housewife @mrs-dasilvasantoss @yoonki-bored @maybankslover @blazebreaker @thepopcultureaddict @cartiiwannagotoplutoo @imawhoreforu @jj-pls-give-me-a-chance @summer-may

[shithowdy]

Strange question, but I feel like you are the go-to person for this. Is there any official lore to how lolthsworn drow treat transness? I imagine it would be very terf-y, like amabs arent allowed to transition into a matriarchal caste, and afabs would be disgraced for transitioning to male.

Oh gosh I love drow stuff but I don't think I would even remotely consider myself an expert on their lore, I've only read wikis and scraped the surface of the books. I might page @rukafais though!!

I know there are some trans drow characters, though the only one I can think of right now is Fel'rekt, but as a Bregan D'aerthe member he's more sworn to that than Lolth.

It has always been my personal impression, and thus what I reflect in my RP (my bg3 tav is a trans woman "lolthsworn" who started the game looking masc and as the game progressed became more her desired self), that Lolthite society is very rigid with its gender rules and bioessentialism. Their entire social structure hinges on the matriarchs and priestesses maintaining power, and there's an entire book series about how Fucked Up And Weird they get if anything happens that threatens that order (and the irony of living by such strict order while worshipping "chaos" is lost on them). Much like gender expression being a threat to fascist ideals in real life, I think they would see any kind of gender fluidity as antithetical to their ideals. If men could just suddenly call themselves women, what's stopping all the mages from doing that? What kind of message does it send if one of the matriarchs decides to become a "patriarch"? Where would "agender" fall on the power structure? No. None of that. You are whatever we guess you are based on anatomy at birth.

Additionally, Lolth's hatred of Corellon, an elven god that straddles masculine and feminine, is burning. Elves blessed by Corellon are able to change their physical gender at will; it stands to reason that a goddess determined to be their opposite would revoke such freedoms in her society. She also loves suffering snd giving her own people more reasons to feel at odds with one another.

I think there's room for nuance in individual characters, but from a baseline worldbuilding standpoint I can't imagine lolthite societies being anything but horribly misandrist and by extension against anything that loosens the definition of "man" and "woman".

[dallasgallant]

Dawn goes down- Vamp au lore post

This is organized the best I could think of as it’s more of a universe than a story (there’s so much that could be done with it). I’ve drawn some aspects and others will be more explained. Will treat this like a master post so it will be updated as lore is talked about!

Long post ahead!

If you want to make anything for it (or any of my aus, headcanons etc.) go ahead! Might be my ego talking, but fjdndmdmd

Base story-

The gang are a group of nomadic vampires, they go from town to town feeding, wreaking havoc and moving on before there’s any danger to them. There’s small pockets of fun but it’s a taxing existence… they’re surviving more than they’re living. 1967 they decide to settle in Tulsa for longer than a normal stay, which means more subtlety than their usual chaos and law running.

It’s a rocky start for them as not even the oldest of them has done the “traditional” Dracula method of slow feeding over a period of time off of people. As you can imagine this starts out horribly (imagine two-bit just hanging off your ceiling like a lizard. It went BAD lmao) until Dally found Buck. The two quickly entered an arrangement where Buck finds and sends food the gangs way.

As the gang becomes more settled they get more free time, Pony still loves movies. He and Johnny spend one morning out to late, confused by the darkness of the movie house — run ins with Dawn and the sun aren’t anything new to them. Except this time, Johnny gets burned badly and the two of them have to take refuge under the porch of one Cherry Valance while the gang has no idea where they are.

The vampires-

The term to refer to a group of vampires would be a “Brood” and a more permanent place they’d stay instead of motels and RVs would be a vampire “nest” -> they’ve currently taken up residence in the long abandoned Curtis house.

They’d also never use the term vampire themselves, for multiple reasons, they’d instead say: Wanderers, drifters etc.

Vamprism isn’t easy, in fact it has more constraints than it does freedoms— it seems that way some nights anyway. Darry views it as “just how it is” there’s no way out and you just have to live with it… that’s what he tells Ponyboy anyway. Darry views things as just fine as long as they all stay together. [ au is simultaneously a fun time with vampires while also slightly vampirsm serves as metaphorical towards poverty/being an outsider. ]

The gang has had countless close calls with sunlight, either with shotty sun protection jobs, traveling to long or plain forgetting. Short exposure like this hurts but it won’t scar permanent unless a tad longer/precise or an incident like Dallas and his former St. Christopher.

However, the most important thing when it comes to the gang is that… Johnny Cade is the head vampire. It is a wonderful bit of irony that the short, scared looking Johnny is the most powerful/originator of the bunch. Him being so assuming is actually quite protective of the entire gang, and while he is the head and that earns him a certain respect and attention he isn’t exactly the leader. That role has been given over to Darry similar to canon.

Vampires don’t age… physically or mentally! While there’s room for personal growth, change and wisdom vampires would maintain the hardwiring of their age at the time of their death. While pony is well beyond the age of 14 he still deals with bouts of irrationality/excess angst and confusion someone at the age would have.

The gang-

Johnny: Oldest of the gang and the head vampire. Takes a lower spot out of choice, despite his strength he’s scared and often quite similar to canon. After some talks he and Pony try and only eat “bad people.”

Dally: The first turned by Johnny sometime in the 1870s, he was a member of a Wild West show left for dead by a former partner. Johnny was lonely and saved his life by taking it, unknowingly Dally had on his pendant when turned leaving him scarred. Has an even greater disregard for law than he does in canon and is one of the ones to ‘clean up’ for the gang. Carries a knife and gun.

Pony: Turned second by Johnny, was met further down the line and they became unlikely friends as Pony just thought him to be sick. (Whether their friendship was genuine or through accidental hypnosis is unknown and forgotten). Still a quiet and thoughtful boy though a bit disruptive and quick to anger… he’s been 14 for a long time and that starts to wear on you. Carries a knife.

Two-bit: Third turned, this time by Dally! Met one night at some saloon (remember this is 19th century) and decided to turn him to keep him around. It was a bit of a botch job but it did work, Two isn’t mad about it as he’d probably get caught cheating and die anyway… this is more fun. Also one of the wilder of the gang who ‘cleans up’. Has two guns.

Soda: Turned fourth by Pony, Soda is his favorite person in the world and he wouldn’t live forever without him. It took a lot out of pony to do this and nearly scared Soda into a second death. It took him the longest adjustment period to get used to everything and ok with it. He likes the fun he gets to have and the lack of rules. Carries a gun and a knife.

Steve: Turned fifth by Johnny for soda, who had similar reasons to pony but saw what it took out of him and wasn’t about to risk it. Steve’s the designated driver of the group often whipping the RV or whatever vehicle they find down the highway, wears driving gloves and tinted goggles as they often cut it close with sunrise. Will swap with Dally when he needs a break. Carries a knife.

Darry: Served briefly as a loosely informed daytime protector (human guardian) until it got to risky. Turned sixth by Johnny for Pony, who wasn’t going to have it happen again. While he was turned last he took to it the quickest, whatever it took to keep the brothers together (especially considering the state of late 19th century boy homes). Leads the gang, critical on sticking together, clean up and finding a place to stay. Carries a gun and a knife.

Pony is in a bit of a weird state with it all, he likes the gang and likes his brothers but he hates the way they have to live and how desperate it all is. They’ll be nights where he’s out on his own where he just goes to see movies or read etc instead of taking time to feed… which worries Darry with how he keeps accidentally starving himself. He’ll either end up feeding him or bringing a cup or two. Since settling down things have gotten slightly better.

Humans -

Cherry : she’s relatively the same to how she is in canon apart from having vampires take temporary refuge under her front porch. Will they be gone before she discovers them?

Buck: While he was fed off once, he’s not a ‘thrall’/protector in a traditional sense though the gang will call him ‘Renfield’ as a joke. He’s under no spell (but thinks he is) they’re just friends, he sends unruly customers, cops and competition their way occasionally as long as they bring no buzz his way.

Sandy: Soda’s past sweetheart when he was alive who he had to leave behind. She was never fully aware what happened, just that his little brother got sick and not long after all three of them disappeared. Since the brothers were turned the latest, there’s a possibility of her still being alive but extremely old.

Bob and Randy: Like Cherry they’re relatively the same to their canon selves. Randy is more observant of illness and disappearances in town and Bob has horror movies on the brain, he’d never suggest vampires — lest he be seen of as insane but he has thought about it. (Unlike cherry there’s not a lot of direct involvement)

[dotthings]

Appointment in Samarra is a banger of an episode.

Let's talk about the fallacy of "Dean only cares about Sam he would let the whole world burn bleep blop bloop"--a fallacy often used by a certain standom faction.

Canon events:

Dean shows his self-sacrificial inclinations and he is doing it for Sam's sake, and lets himself be killed for 6 minutes so he can talk to Death, to get Sam's soul back, but the rest of the episode--and later episodes of the series--will show Sam isn't the only one Dean is willing to make sacrifices for, including the part where Dean temp kills himself to help the ghost of a child for one example, and is even more willing to go there because of his grief over Cas. Loss and grief often drives Dean. In S6, he is grieving Sam, because Sam's soul is gone

Dean's intent isn't to do this only for Sam, and he asks for both Sam's soul and Adam to be lifted from the cage

Death, who has had it up to here with Winchester shenanigans forces Dean to choose between the brother he's known his entire life and the half-brother he barely knows. It's not because Dean doesn't care about Adam, because Dean asked to save Adam not just Sam. There's nothing twisted or unhinged about Dean choosing Sam's soul, when Death plays hardball at him. But if the other person was someone Dean knows well and loves dearly...it isn't so simple. He also cares about people.

Death makes a deal with Dean to get Sam's soul back where Dean has to be Death for 24 hours and if Dean gives up, if he takes off the ring, he loses and the deal is off (This is one of my favorite Dean-focused episodes btw)

It starts out simple for Dean. A robber. An adult man having a heart attack enabled by his own junk food habits. Dean knows things aren't this simple but in this ep he's initially letting himself whistle past the graveyard that this will be a cakewalk...innocents don't die. Only crooks and people who don't take proper care of their bodies, right? The irony doesn't escape me that Dean himself is a junk food enthusiast himself. As is Death.

But it's not so simple. There's a 12 year old girl with a weak heart. Dean can't endure killing her and mis-uses some high-minded ideas about free will and defying fate to justify his refusal to do his job as Death in this one instance. The ripple effect causes the death of another innocent, the nurse who would have assisted in the little girl's surgery, but it was cancelled due to her miraculous recovery, the nurse heads home, and therefore winds up in a horrible car accident that takes her life, and she dies because the heart surgeon doesn't return to the hospital in time, because he went home as well due to the little girl's miraculous recovery

Dean then witnesses the grief of the husband of the nurse, raw and large and he identifies with it and his regrets are increasing

Dean then acts to save the husband, who in a drunk fit of grief, almost drives his car into a busload of people.

To save an entire busload of people and the grieving husband, Dean takes off the ring. He loses the bet. He willingly relinquishes that chance to save Sam's soul to save others.

He returns to the little girl to set things right, because if he doesn't, the ripple effect will follow her the rest of her life and people will keep dying because Dean as Death couldn't bear to kill her.

Meanwhile soulless Sam is off the chain, there's the confirmation he regards Sam as an other, and himself a separate being. He has to kill Bobby for the spell to protect him from having Sam's soul jammed back into him and attacks Bobby.

The reason Dean gets to the point where he realizes he'll have to kill soulless Sam is because soulless Sam tried to kill Bobby. (Note fallacy B, Dean doesn't really care about Cas because he's willing to kill Godstiel, when soulless Sam and Godstiel are parallel situations and Dean was ready to kill soulless Sam). You can see the exact moment where soulless Sam realizes Dean is ready to kill him, the realization from both of them.

Having put Dean through the wringer and gotten him to understand his ripple effect of his actions on the natural order, Death then decides to get Sam's soul back after all.

This is not due to the deal Dean made. Dean did not save Sam's soul. Death handed it over after Dean blew the deal. Death has his own agendas and wants Dean to be detective and look into what's going on with the souls. And maybe he does have a soft spot for Dean. Cosmic beings often seem to.

Canon is canon is canon is canon, Dean's love is not finite, Dean's heroism isn't limited, Dean never ever only cares about Sam, even in S2 when he was in a drunk griefrage yelling at Bobby, he was speaking from a place of deep hurt but he would never have actually let the world end for it, Dean's capacity to care is vast, and far far more than a certain fandom faction ever has the ability to comprehend and grasp. It's their loss entirely.

[goldensunset]

i think forever and ever so much about the sheer Irony (™️) in black and white. just the way that n’s whole mission is to liberate pokémon from the oppression of evil abusive humans. but most people are actually good and fine and the actual most evil people in the region are right next to him. and he doesn’t even see it (or tries to pretend not to see it bc the consequences for betraying them would be dire for him and also it’s just really hard to admit when your entire life has been a lie). like he wasn’t even entirely wrong; some trainers are awful people who don’t deserve their pokémon. the game is about proving him wrong but i would’ve loved if they’d elaborated more on the ways in which he was right. like reshiram wouldn’t have recognized him in white if he was completely misguided right

namely i’d have loved to see him react more to ghetsis and his pokémon who hate him. that max frustration hydreigon… kyurem’s suffering... it would’ve been absolutely horrible for him to see the abuse he’d been fighting against his whole life unfold right in front of him, and coming from his own father who claimed to want to stop it. but at the same time honestly? in n’s lowest moment of both material and ideological defeat… it would’ve been so vindicating knowing some part of your long-held beliefs were completely spot on. your father was right in what he taught you, but he himself is the guy he warned you about. to be able to redirect it at a new target instead of having to completely fold and say you were wrong despite how much you had seen and heard with your own eyes and ears

basically i want more righteous anger from n. more n and reshiram more firmly-held truth that will burn down evil and hatred and deception etc etc. more going after people who legitimately are abusive, but just doing his activism on a case by case basis instead of trying to paint the entire region with a broad brush. but alas he is too busy being a gentle soul by nature who also still is desperate for parental love and a place to belong despite everything. like he’s busy unpacking years of abuse and manipulation he himself suffered he’s trying to fix himself first

[neyswxrld]

stormy weather

Echo, no pairing

summary: Echo has a low and is in a lot of pain after his physical therapy. Wrecker is there to help. Set after TCW S7 E1-4.

warnings: derpessed feelings, hopelessness, phantom pain

words: ~1400

a/n: hello everyone! here's another fic for @summer-of-bad-batch! this time i could even bring in three different prompts: "you're a bad liar.", battle scars and the bonus prompt light in the darkness. it's been a long time since i wrote something for echo, i hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

Physical therapy was horrible.

He hated it with all his guts.

His legs hurt, they burned, and he felt like they were going to fall off. But the worst thing was: he couldn't make it feel better.

Hell, he didn't have those legs anymore and still they made his life so much more painful.

Pump, the physical therapist, tried to help him a lot and even though his tips and advice sometimes did wonders, he still hurt.

Then there was his stomach - he had problems adjusting to the amount of food he needed. When he was on Skako Minor, he was mostly fed with fluids. Now he needed to chew his food again, taste the grossness of it, and just swallow down the weird consistency.

Also - his muscles hurt. Pump always said he needed to build them up, so he can be fast and strong again. And he knew he had to. He really wanted to. But on some days, he just felt like he couldn't.

Today was a day like that.

Pump made him do some exercises with an odd looking thing. He never did those exercises before. Not even in ARC training. And even though he tried so hard, at some point he just couldn't do it anymore.

He felt like a failure. Like he wasn't good enough. How would he ever be able to keep up with everyone? Especially with the Batch? He could learn all their crazy plans, but how could he contribute anything, when he just wasn't strong, fast and persistent enough?

Pump had tried to cheer up him up, but Echo almost fled out of the training room.

He needed to get away. At the same time, he already felt the embarrassment creep up his neck. He felt like a shiny, on his first day on a Venator-class Star Destroyer, where everything was just overwhelming even though they already learned how it would be like on the inside. In theory, at least.

He was stumbling along the walls, trying to find his way to the Batch's barracks.

He just wanted to be alone and sulk in his hammock, until he felt better about his sorry self. He was so disappointed in himself and his lack of ability.

When he reached their barracks, he slipped inside. Relieved, he realized that he was alone. The others seemed to have training, or were up to something else.

He sighed once, before making his way over to his sleeping place, not bothering to turn the lights on.

From outside, he could hear thunder. The rain rattled against the large windows, and not for the first time he could laugh about the irony of Kamino. He felt like the weather was mirroring his conflicted and sad feelings. The storm outside was just as unpredictable and unhinged as the one inside him.

He curled up into a small ball, trying to disappear in himself.

When his hands... His hand touched his metal knees, and his scomp made a small 'clink' noise, he sighed a second time.

Never did he expect to turn out... like this, when he finally passed his final test, such a long time ago. With Fives, Hevy, Cutup and Droidbait.

He knew it was practically hopeless, but he still always imagined how all of them made it out of the war alive. Together. He liked to daydream about what would happen after all of it. After all the pain, and fear, and grief. He was sure Droidbaid would start a bakery one day. Cutup and Hevy would open a gym, just to train like maniacs themselves. And Fives probably would have traveled a lot. He always wanted to try and see new things. Just about his own future, Echo wasn't sure. But he soon realized, it wouldn't matter anyway.

After Rishi, after Hevy's, Droidbait's and Cutup's death, he realized that all their dreams and hopes were indeed meaningless.

He always thought he would during the war.

He was so sure he would, when that shuttle exploded on Lola Sayu.

He never knew what life would have brought for him, but he never would have guessed to turn out as a cyborg.

He almost didn't hear how the door opened behind him. Just when Wrecker's face appeared in his sight, he realized that he had company.

"Hey, Echo. Back again already?" the brawler asked and grinned down at him.

Echo looked back with big eyes. "Yeah," he nodded.

"So soon, too? Thought it would take another half an hour at least. How was it?" Wrecker started to talk to him, patting the side of his hammock.

Echo blinked a few times.

"Yeah... I-... Pump decided we should take a break. It was... great," he murmured and looked around, just not to meet Wrecker's eyes.

Wrecker stared at him for a few seconds, not moving an inch.

"Are you feeling okay?" he then decided to ask.

"I? Y-Yeah. I'm fine," he tried to assure his new brother, and forced a light smile on his face. It didn't reach his eyes. He knew that.

Wrecker knew, too: "You’re a bad liar."

He sighed again. "I know," he whispered.

Wrecker carefully stepped over and took a seat next to Echo, making the hammock swing back and forwards a few times.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked and put a hand on Echo's metallic calf. He couldn't feel the warmth of Wrecker's fingers, couldn't really feel the pressure. It was almost as if they weren't there at all.

Echo looked at Wrecker. At his younger, bigger brother, who seemed so happy and joyful all the time. He was so strong and gentle at the same time. And when Echo looked into Wrecker's face, at the scar and his milky eye, he just knew he could talk to him. When someone could understand what he was going through, even just in a slight way, it was Wrecker.

"It's just hard... Adjusting and stuff," he almost whispered.

He saw how Wrecker's thumb was moving up and down, swallowed, and took another breath.

"Physical therapy feels like torture. I can't- I just can't really do anything like I could before. I'm weak, and exhausted so fast. And I know it takes time, but it just takes... so long," he started to play around with his scomp, "and everything hurts."

Wrecker nodded, with an understanding look in his eyes.

"I know it's hard. And it's never going to be like before again. But we can try. We can try to make it easier. To make it better. And to make everything feel okay again," Wrecker said. "Healing isn't easy. It's hard and it's exhausting. And it's not just a straight line up. It's like a road full of holes and bumps and stones. But you have to try to jump over them, Echo."

Echo looked up at him with teary eyes. Wrecker's expression was so honest and genuine, that he didn't doubt a word he said.

"I know it's hard, but you have to keep going. I know you can. And if you need help, we're always here for you," Wrecker ended.

Echo nodded. He knew, but everything just seemed so hopeless sometimes.

"What helped you the most?" the former ARC-Trooper wanted to know.

A small smile appeared on his brother's lips.

"My brothers. The Batch," he said, and his smile grew even bigger.

"Every time I felt like I was at the bottom and couldn't do it anymore, they were there. And they pulled me up again. I couldn't have done it without them," he confessed, and Echo's heart warmed a bit by that.

He smiled at Wrecker, and he realized that everything just felt a little lighter.

The storm in him seemed to calm down a little. The clouds made space for a small ray of sunlight.

He still had aches everywhere, and he still was way too exhausted. But at least he felt a little spark of hope in him, like a light in the darkness. Warm and cozy, and ready to get even brighter.

Wrecker's words felt good, and he knew he could seek out the others whenever he needed them. Even Crosshair.

He knew everything would be going to be okay again. He knew he could do it. He knew he would be up and kicking again, even if it would take some time.

Sometimes he just needed a little heads up.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST

@isthereanechoinhere96 @trixie2023 @freesia-writes

[solsticewytch]

Okay, I had a crackpot idea, not even a theory (it is by the end of this post btw) just an idea, that I need to put out in the ether.

So, I recently came across a post from @vertigala who theorized that RedCanary might be the new host for Protocolverse!Jonah Magnus. And I thought, if they were to ever show up in person it sure would be fun horrible if RedCanary was someone we know from TMA. So... I'm trying to work out who would make more sense be absolutely gut-wrenching when it hits me. What if, just IF, because the likelihood of this is, like, zero, I'm sure, but JUST WHAT IF... RedCanary is Protocolverse!Jonathan Sims?

I mean just think about the potential in that. The moment we first hear this universe's Jon talking in TMAGP, sounding "awfully happy" or something, bringing a fleeting sense of joy, knowing that at least in one universe he's not so devastatingly miserable, but it slowly dawns on us, and on Jon if he's the one/one of who's listening, that it's not him, that that bastard wins again, that utter, truly next-level defeat, that heartache! And then for however long Jonah would be an active threat in TMAGP we'd have to hear him through Jon's own voice, see him in his body, all the while TMA!Jon, trapped in the 'puters (with TMA!Jonah nonetheless), using the last remnants of his own agency, all of his remaining consciousness, is actively trying to stop him (and/or this world's horrors), as the only people being vaguely aware of him are a paranoid IT guy who is actively conspiring againts him and a woman from his own world who has every reason not just to never trust Jon but also (imo) wanting to work againts him given the chance.

On top of all of this there's the several layers deep irony to all of it. Jon being the one who reads out that case, either out of his own choice or being forced to do so, the implication of him specifically chosing this case to deter Sam from or leading him directly towards the Magnus Institue, or someone else using Jon for that. Then there's the idea of this universe's Jon willingly seeking out spooky abandoned locations for fun and then meeting a gory demise from exploring the burned down ruins of the Magnus Institute, becoming a mistery known only to the mostly oblivious staff of an organization that specifically looks for these eldritch monsters to recruit, reducing his experience to little more than random numbers in a database that nobody uses anymore.

Even though RedCanary doesn't particularly strike me as a likely candidate for Protocolverse!Jon based on the wording of their comments alone, plus they also suggest they're from Manchester and their dad is still alive, I still think it would make some weird, karmic sense for them to be this universe's Jon. By not growing up in Bournemouth or, more importantly, not being raised by his grandmother, who'd carelessly buy any random cheap book on clearance for him to read, he could have avoided making any significant connection to the supernatural in childhood and therefore avoiding geting on the radar of the Magnus Institute prior to their destruction in '99, despite now being much closer to it. This being Jon, I think he would still have that Eye-aligned thirst for knowledge, secrets, uncaring for the dangers he'd be exposed to while looking for them, so with the Institute gone he finds another way to satiate that thirst and developes a liking for exploring abadoned places. Which then leads him back to the Magnus Institute, striking his interest, publically at least, with it being "cleared", "explored to death", holding no more secrets, yet not having any pictures to show it, not having any concrete information on it. So he goes to explore, not being deterred by the state of the building, being careless, expects piles of papers, the renmants of the knowledge that place once held, having the sense of doors shutting behind him, seeing grafiti on the wall and wanting to know more about it, trying to document all of it and failing to do so due to photographic distortions, having to resort to older technology, taking something they're weren't supposed to, not just in a supernatural sense, but the place they're discussing all of this is also against it, the rising paranoia that leads to the brutal mutalation of their eyes, the sight of which makes the forum freak out and remove the only photo that found its way to the internet, the only real evidence of what happened to them. All of it is there, narratively speaking, for the audience of TMA entering this new world, this new story, serving as a red thread from one world to another, basically summarising the entirity of TMA without spoilers. But how thematically fitting it would be that after being welcomed in this new world by the remnants of Martin, who's pained sob was the last thing the tapes supposedly recorded before entering the Protocolverse, telling us a tale reminisent of his own feelings and his, Jon's and Jonah's state of being at the moment ("Some of him") the person who then basically introduces us not just to this world's Magnus Institute and the danger it still holds but also theslightly changed rules of the Fears, warning us not to / beckoning us to investigate further, to be this world's Jon, appearing only through a thematically fitting username in a tale told to us by the remnants of the original world's Jon. Once used by Jonah to be the vessel through which all the fears entered the world, now possessed entirely by Jonah, allowing him to enter the world even after being defeated and do as he pleases.

(...Okay, I know it all started as a sleep deprived mind's musing on a bittersweet scene that was likely never to happen but I'm lowkey totally sold on this idea now.)

[darklinaforever]

I literally saw in the tag dedicated to Darklina... that the Darkling (who is neither a rapist nor a pedophile) is apparently worse for girls than Aegon II.

Aegon II who I remind you is a canonical alcoholic rapist and pedophile in Fire and Blood. And a canonical alcoholic rapist in HOTD. You must have a serious problem in your head to fucking say that...

Oh and the post also insinuated that the Darkling was worse than Aemond... You know, the other canonical rapist from Fire and Blood who exterminated all the members of House Strong and burned down the Riverlands for fun with his dragon Vaghar...

I still remind you that the Darkling is a gray character that the author herself refuses to categorize as a villain, leader of a minority who has been persecuted for centuries and centuries, namely the Grisha. And that the Darkling himself has suffered centuries of suffering at the hands of his own mother, the grisha among whom he is also unique with his mother, and the shitty society in which he lives which does not like the grisha and he strives to try to change. So, compare him to these two other characters (Aegon II and Aemond from Fire and Blood) canonically villains, and also princes who grew up with a silver spoon in their mouth with the added idea that they could have everything under the pretext that they were men and then become pure horrible people, astounds me to no end... Even if for now, it's mainly saying that the Darkling would be worse for girls than Aegon II, without any irony whatsoever...

[umbran6]

What if... Leo Became a God?

Okay, but what if Leo literally burnt away his mortality during Blood of Olympus while fighting Gaea?

Now, before you go ahead and bring out the sledgehammers and pitchforks, or think I'm just doing it as a joke, this is a possibility that I'm being very sincere in considering this. And it is a possibility, because this isn't the first time this has happened in myth - Heracles did it first. So if burning himself alive in a freaking pyre was all Heracles needed to ascend to godhood, Leo literally burning himself alive using his own flames to kill a Primordial should be more than enough. Plus there's the whole Hera mimicking what Demeter did with Demophon, so we could say he's nearly there. Him burning himself alive is just that final push he needed to become a god, burning away his own mortality.

I mean, think about it. The prophecy always said, an oath to hold with a final breath, but it never meant Leo had to get close to perma-dead. Riordan did it just fine with the Physician's Cure, having Leo achieve apotheosis to do so would also be a way to circumvent the loophole in the prophecy. The phrasing is vague in that 'final breath' could be interpreted in multiple ways, such as 'one's final breath as a mortal.'

Oh the irony. We all thought Leo was going to die, then bam! Boy ends up with a permanent lease on life by literally burning himself alive, a lot more power than he could ever imagine getting, and a lot of freedom he never had as a mortal. He's lucky demigod #3 to ascend to godhood without divine patronage, right after Heracles and Dionysus. When he returns to Camp Half-Blood, it isn't on Festus, but him straight-up materializing in the middle of his funeral. Nearly every Greek and Roman but especially Nico mentally screams WTF as they realize that the funeral hasn't even ended, and Leo's shroud is basically his first offering.

His friends reactions to seeing him - and realizing the truth of what he has become. Jason and Piper are in shock, realizing that their friend is now going to stay young and will eventually watch them die and have to move on. Frank and Hazel are bewildered, because Leo's plan to burn himself alive to defeat Gaea had gone horribly right and now they have to deal with the fact that they had a hand in Leo's apotheosis. Percy and Annabeth are bewildered and shocked at the fact that Leo just straight up became a god - and the now very real reality that one of them may eventually do so (cough cough Percy).

When Leo goes to free Calypso, she literally has to process the fact that the boy she may have liked is now a god - the very beings she despises for imprisoning her in Ogygia. That eventually Leo may most likely move on to someone else and dump her. This crashes especially hard when she gets out of that island and realizes that she's become mortal. The dynamics between them have completely changed and Leo isn't aware of it, and Calypso doesn't know how to process that.

Hera is the one to explain exactly is going on to Leo, because she knows she had a hand in Leo becoming a god. She owes him at the very least to guide Leo in his new reality, and both the positive and negative benefits that are associated with ascension to godhood. Hephaestus doesn't know how to handle Leo now basically being just there forever, because none of his children ever became gods unless they were the children of him and a god. Nemesis marvels at the irony of Leo becoming a god while stealing Gaea's life, noting that this was a rather marvelous way that Leo rained his vengeance upon her. Apollo's just friendly because now he has a new friend to be with him in Olympus.

But this ending - for Heroes of Olympus as a whole - would be more poetic and a parallel to The Last Olympian. Percy was satisfied with who he was, protecting the world to save those he loves and he's happy with that. Leo is one who ascends to the heavens in his feat to avenge those he loves and destroying those who tried to destroy him.

But... there's one thing they have in common.

Leo's first act as a god isn't to rescue Calypso. It isn't to appear before the Seven and let them know he's alive. Leo appears in the Underworld and requests for only a single soul to be allowed a second chance at life. The single soul that he loves the most.

Esperanza Valdez is brought out of the underworld, and Leo freezes. The boy on fire who became a god turns back into a boy of eight years old as he finally gets back the mom he lost so long ago as he hugs her as best as he can. He hadn't expected to be a god. He didn't know what would happen next. But this - this is one of the few times things actually feel right. They've both been given a new lease on life - one longer than the other, but they can finally keep moving forward.

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

Fundamentally, I think this:

Betty's story is in Adventure Time. Ergo, any problems I have with Betty's portrayal is with Adventure Time. Like it could have been deeply ironic and sadly funny if Betty had like a realization that went:

"Why didn't I stop Simon from getting that Crown? Why did I just let him do whatever he wanted? Why didn't I speak up about what I wanted? This whole thing might have never happened!!"

But then, after she almost realizes that her obsession made her complacent and if she had just played a more active role in the relationship, she would have kept Simon from the Crown.

Except, and here comes the irony, then she would just double down. "My problem before was being too obsessed about Simon so that helped him get the Crown. Obviously, the solution is to be EVEN MORE obsessed with Simon so he can be freed from the Crown."

We almost, almost had it in the "Elements" saga, because like here:

she talks about stopping Simon from finding the Crown but she never tells us that it would have been as easy as speaking up about the things she wanted to do

her obsession was a blindspot for both of them, and adventure time kiiiinda points it out, but if fionna and cake gets to spoonfeed us Simon's problems in their relationship (as is its right), then adventure time should have also spoonfed us what betty could have done to save their relationship - like addressing her deep, deep insecurities that led to her codependency tendencies

like adventure time was betty's story because simon was trapped and couldnt speak so it was naturally the Prime Time for betty to shape the view of their relationship - and she did, according to her, they were both perfect and their relationship never had anything wrong

except that shes so obsessed with him

adventure time doesnt talk about how she was obsessed with him from day 0, day -1 even, which we should have!!

Temple of Mars was so close. Everyone was so close to getting her to figure out "GURL, STOP LETTING SIMON TAKE OVER YOUR WHOLE LIFE", and then she just goes, "OKAY BUT ONE LAST TIME I PROMISE"

fucking wild

so its not like she also didnt get her fair share of criticism for obsessing over simon - but fionna and cake literally spelled it out for simon and betty's criticism isnt as drawn out - like fucking imagine if Betty got the casper and nova treatment, and betty just kept choosing casper's option, like show her about to take the trip or about to write the love letter and but she never chooses the option to balance her love life with her normal life, then in the end, casper gets horribly doomed

ofc betty's entire reaction in that scenario would have been to... burn the casper and nova book...

Gurl please... we were trying to help you!!! your ass didnt listen!!!!

[aita-blorbos]

[OC AITA (anon so hopefully no one finds all those spoilers)]

Content Warning: cults, fictional religion, religious fanaticism, burning alive, asphyxiation mention, drug mentions, also this is a horror story

AITA for burning down a cult? Literally?

So, I (adult, F) was part of a religious cult that believed that there was a God in a realm between minds, I was there since I was little until around 17-18 when I did the "event".

This mind realm can be accessed through a powder that is sniffed (and is NOT cocaine before anyone assumes this) and kinda "deactivate" your senses, allowing you to go there, which is something all the cult members did at least once.

Their leader, which I'm gonna call Mask (adult, ??) cause Mask never showed their face, told the members that only those who are "pure" (like the Christian Inquisition meaning + never killing anyone) can talk to this God and live with it on the realm after death. And apparently only Mask and a few people ever got to, but Mask "decided to stay and spread the word".

But, when someone find they're "impure", the only act of redemption they can do is getting into the cult's gas chamber with a fire and burn themselves to death, a point that'll be important later.

Anyways, context aside, around 17-18 I started discovering secrets that Mask has hidden from the other members about the other few people that got to "ascend" as they call it. Their bodies were rotting in a hidden room with no life in their eyes, like they were stuck in the mind realm, but they could still talk and all I could hear is "get me outta here".

When I brought this up to my friends C and B (minors at the time, adults now, both M), they both were in denial that Mask would do anything like this, which I expected from them since they're part of Mask's family, but C changed his mind after going to see it by himself.

Me and C made a plan to tell this to the other members but we were caught and sent to the gas chamber for "conspiracy against Mask" which was never a rule since no one had attempted this before. B was still denying and didn't make part of the plan but got sent to the chamber too for knowing about the plan and not telling anything.

Since they would only open the chamber once there was an explosion or if there was no sound after some hours (died by asphyxiation), I put the gas in one side of the room flapping a sheet of paper and exploded it, giving some burns but nothing fatal. Once the door opened, we ran out of the room, but the gas kept leaking (guess they forgot to close it). I picked a torch to keep the guards away, and when we escaped, I threw the torch, unintentionally exploding the "house" and burning everyone inside.

I... I know this was years ago and it was a horrible thing to do, even accidentally but... I don't feel any remorse for it. The way they treated and threatened and traumatized me, C, B and other people is something I can't and won't forget, and I can't help but laugh at the irony of Mask dying the same way their cult "indirectly" (in their view) killed so many others.

But... since I reunited with C and B, I wonder if I was in the wrong here, at least in involving them. C still shivers at the mention of that day, though he did move on, but B has nightmares about that day and still hears Mask's voice in his head...

And... I feel like I'm no better than that cult, having traumatized B and C so much. So, AITA?

[saehaerys]

About Laugh and Forget (1)

Sooo unfortunately I have to work overtime the second day of work. And most of that time I need to be waiting... for experiment to run, so I feel like I could be writing a bit about how Laugh and Forget, Laugh and Forget! came about.

A bit under a year ago, one day in February, I had a horrible idea that Jaehaerys had coveted Saera and in his terrible covetousness he messed it all up, sending her away for cold repentance, and she fled from his face in mischief and utter disillusionment of their bond. It became increasingly unbearable for me to regard this passage of faux history. What if Saera intuited his intent for her, which he himself had yet recognized in its full monstrosity, and pressed her golden head into the burning window of the house of conflagration... Since the first day this has been a story coloured in gold. Gold as in the Era of Reconciliation, as in the people's colouring, as every emotion at play, as how she's thought by many, her siblings even to be best conditioned for his tyranny. I have certainly abused gold in symbolism in the words I churned out so far. It's blatant irony I know. I was under the same influence when I chose the name of the series, Ketoret, a sweet incense burnt on the God's golden altar, over the temple's blood reek of slaughtered sacrifice.

When I started this story, I wrote with whims and only had a very vague plan for where this shall go - I mean, the ending is already written :/ And I think it would hardly end any differently, whether Saera approached Jaehaerys or not. Worse case scenario is that his monster arose and he caged her for life, having crafted a more cunning gaol for her out of half-dignity and ardor, to keep her within his reach. As I proceed, the inconsistency or rather evolution of stylistic things started to disconcert me. Same happened for Saera's characterization, and till now I can't be sure whether her recollection of earlier fantasy of Jaehaerys makes sense when placed next to Ch2, but let's see if as story unfurls.

In Ch1 Alyssa tracked her down. Alyssa is a funny character. She was "bawdy as a barmaid" but there's no scandal of hers along the same vein as Saera's. She wanted of her own accord, to birth many children for Baelon. She and Baelon in many ways are the true golden children of their era, the mini Jaelysanne that they are. She taught Vaegon o the bully of Daella a good lesson, making her a very dutiful big sister with a welcome sense of righteousness. Saera and Alyssa share quite a few things in common. Perhaps exactly because of Alyssa's attachment to Baelon did she manage to evade Jaehaerys's undue favour. The two siblings are too complete together. In loving remembrance to his marriage with Alyssa, Jaehaerys never saw Alyssa in the complex light he saw Saera: doting, pitiful, worried, pained. Had Alyssa been alive, she would've taken on the duty of searching for Saera in her naive conscience despite being so much her parents' daughter.

The title of the story, Laugh and Forget, Laugh and Forget! is self-explanatory as it moves forward. Saera sat down with Alyssa who strove for an answer and had only seen hints of what had transpired when Saera was at court, and told the story between her and her father, which inspired no laughter unless who listened was cruel, and which could hardly be forgotten unless occurred to one heartless. Saera does have one though. But if gods were merciful, perhaps she does not remember what Jaehaerys looked like anymore as years went by, only the vague image of a very calm man who promised her confusion and hell.

Oh also! Stir The Blood by The Bravery is entirely my musical inspiration for anything saehaerys.

[thegrunkiest]

Lucien Lachance x Antoinetta Marie Headcanons: The Great Treachery of Cheydinhal

As I mentioned in my first headcanon post, I have a whole headcanon scenario for how I believe this pairing would be affected by the Dark Brotherhood questline. Far more angst and tragedy in this one so buckle up!

Antoinetta and Lucien's relationship grows strained as the Great Treachery of Cheydinhal rears its ugly head. It began as the rumblings of a potential traitor saw Lucien far busier than usual, their trysts growing even farther apart. Then it's deduced that it's the Cheydinhal Sanctuary that has bred the traitor.

Lucien is paranoid about what this means of he and Antoinetta. He attempts to calculate dates and times, any evidence that could support the idea SHE did not commit the treachery. Nothing is substantial.

The downward spiral begins. He is livid. Had he truly been sleeping with the enemy? In letting his guard down, letting her in, has he helped damn his Brotherhood? The mere idea feels like a betrayal, and though a part of him trusts her, knows her enough to understand her loyalty to the Brotherhood is sincere and unshakable, there is no option to act upon the instinct of the heart and rule her out.

The idea festers in him, and he grows taciturn and distant to Antoinetta. After all he cannot fully trust her now. More than that... if he separates himself enough, the sting of the wound that is bound to be inflicted may burn less.

Antoinetta, distraught by their sudden strain, seeks him out in private; little does she know this is the time Lucien's recieved the order for Purification. Try as she may to plead for an explanation he shuts her down, tells her they are finished. Knowing to flee from a fight she cannot win, Antoinetta retreats back to the Sanctuary more confused and upset than when she first sought him out. She just... doesn't understand what happened between them! And she's determined not to lose this - but it's obvious a face-to-face discussion didn't work, so she takes to brainstorming other gestures that may convince Lucien to reconsider...

(You can actually find this letter in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. I headcanon this is an unsent letter Antoinetta wrote for Lucien because I enjoy pain.)

Antoinetta laments on when she should deliver this letter to Lucien. She decides to wait awhile; perhaps whatever is troubling him will settle down by then and he will be more agreeable. She looks over her work as she takes a bite of an apple on the table.

It's poisoned.

Antoinetta has a horrible epiphany as she is dying. Lucien ordered for her death. The man who had once given her a second chance at life has also just taken it away. What twisted irony. She might even chance one last chuckle at it, were she able to breath...

After Lucien sees his newly appointed Silencer off on their way, he begins the messy work of cleaning up the Purified Sanctuary. When he gets to Antoinetta... he numbs himself to the sight. What sick luck it is for his new Silencer to utilize the poisoned apples he'd given them, only for Antoinetta to take one? He sees the letter left on the table near her body, and reads it. It is full of sentiments he dare not process right now. He pockets it.

The next few weeks are a lonesome existence for Lucien. He contemplates why his Silencer has recently gone inactive after Lucien's initial contracts, and struggles with plans to rebuild the Cheydinhal Sanctuary as he copes with his losses. That is to say he scarcely copes at all; I personally headcanon Lucien is... well... Emotionally Constipated for lack of a better term. He does not allow himself a good cry. His venting is channeled through bursts of rage. He's frustrated his composure is spiraling down in the sewers. This whole arc going on behind the scenes is him basically going

And Lucien realizes he can't really let go either, of Antoinetta in particular. He's sometimes compelled to reread her letter - the last words he'll ever have from her. He had cut off a portion of her shrouded armor's shawl before burying her and keeps it until her scent of cooking seasoning and dead things fade. Sithis, he even occasionally has dreams of their old trysts. Wait... he loved this woman and is dealing with... remorse? The audacity!

Then he discovers his Silencer has been severing the Black Hand; the Treachery didn't die with his Sanctuary. Lucien snaps. That crazed, livid Lucien we see during A Kiss Before Dying is the result of this revelation and all the accumulated anger and remorse he's bottled up over the Purification. And of course - we all know what happens afterwards...

Antoinetta and Lucien meet again in the Void. It's a bittersweet reunion. Antoinetta is hurt over his mistrust of her. Lucien apologizes - no pomp or excuses - and leaves it in her hands to decide whether or not she wants to forgive him for robbing her of a fuller life. They both mull over the circumstances of their deaths... what was and what could have been... but in the end they are bonded. Joined through the powers of the Void.

[proxylynn]

Do you think Angel Dust really wants to change or is he just wanna stay away from Val?

[Oh! My chance to go off on sinners and lack of understanding sin, been waiting for this. Give me a quick moment to download my brain.

*insert jeopardy music*

Angel Dust aka Anthony Anthony was born on April 1st alongside his twin sister, Molly, and died in his 30s in 1947 of a drug overdose. Angel comes from an extended mob family, who are all "horrible people", and are mostly also all in Hell. They all appear as spider-based demons due to their "web of crime", with the majority of Angel's immediate family having drug-themed names (though I'm unsure of what drug Arackniss is tied to other than maybe crack). Angel was from New York when he was alive. Angel was of Italian heritage when he was alive. Angel got into sex work pretty early upon arriving in Hell, rejecting his family's mob dealings, something that Vivziepop plans to explore in the show.

Before I get sidetracked I'll answer you vaguely...Maybe. Because humans are complicated things and change is hard for us to do (see all of history for that example). But with his character growth so far, he's showing signs of positive change and that's happening so long as he's away from Val. Val is a drug, a poison, and the longer under Val he is the worse he is gonna get. So is Angel just using this to get away from Val? Yes, but he's getting the help he needs regardless of his intent originally just to have a free room, and now he is there because he WANTS to be there.

Now the hard part, does he want to change...That's iffy. Because he's used to living a certain way and dealing with things in his own way which is countered by change. I can't begin to imagine the life of a drug-toting mob family in New York following the era of prohibition, let alone being gay while doing so in a time where being gay would get you killed (we never learn). But! One thing I do know and understand is action/reasoning behind intent which is the fundamental flaw Heaven has when it comes to sin.

Stealing is a sin. But...Is it a sin to take if you have no other choice and it's to help others than just yourself? Is it still a sin when you have no choice and it's the only option you have? Situational sin is something I hope gets brought up in the show because it would further show the hypocrisy of good and evil. Is the man who killed another worthy of burning in Hell or should he have not shot the guy that broke into his home high off his ass swinging a machete? Context and situations matter. A woman who sells her body for money is a sinner to some yet maybe that's the only way she can support her family and survive, which is fucked up because not only is it sad but Jesus hung out with Mary Magdalene! A prostitute who is now canonized as a saint. How can one be okay but the other not?

Am I ranting? Probably. Am I saying Angel had a situation where context could be argued to help alleviate some of his sins? Maybe...some, not all. I mean, his mother and sister were a part of the "family" but they ended up in Heaven. Maybe their involvement wasn't so much as the men but still that doesn't mean they don't have dirty hands too. Intent matters too and that's where free will blurs that line. You can intend to get high and have a good time...what you didn't intend was for the drugs to be bad and you broke into someone's home in the middle of the night with a machete completely naked which got you shot before you overdosed. (this wild example shows how from Florida I am) But I'll cut myself off before this gets out of hand.

My point is, we as humans are flawed and change is fundamental to anything trying to grow/evolve in this world. The message of the show is that anyone can change their lives for the better, even when at their lowest point, so long as they try. And that's the honest truth. The irony of Hell preaching to be better people is not lost on me.]