#and i know that it will help a lot of people in dangerous situations

[zeyris-daydreams]

Imagine being chosen to become Mydei's wife. And it's not any ordinary thing either, as a chrysos heir he has lots of responsibilities on his plate, and so to help with that, the community tries to give back to the heroes.

Many people feel differently about chrysos heir and their influence over Amphoreus, but the facts remain undeniable; chrysos heir is necessary. And so, to show any gratitude, the community prepares a celebration.

You are dressed in their most flowy clothes as you stand near other brides, ready to be wed, and the nervousness eats at you like an eagle eating a titans liver. The women picked the best women for the heir, and you were dragged out of the comfort of your home to be here—and while it's not a general occurrence to have to take such mistreatment, it's not that general population is special like the heir is, either.

You've heard lots about Mydei, of his nature. They call him cruel.

The only kindness you've been given was one of the women informing you who you would be wed to. And you'd rather not know. Why not Aglaea? Why not Phainon?

The two young men entered the hall while bantering over something, and you had assumed they knew about all of this. Why would you be here otherwise? You clenched the white gowns in your hands as they looked over, you should feel honoured. And you should feel happy to be here.

Yet the bitterness in your chest was unmistakeable.

The ceremony was swift, merely a formality, before Mydei took you home. And you've long realised the tales weren't as true as they sounded. Mydei, once you arrived to his home, left you to your own devices.

And maybe you shouldn't be offended to be abandoned on your wedding night, and, well, all the nights that followed. But Mydei wasn't a bad person.

Something must've been wrong with you.

The part which brought you close wasn't a cliche of treating his wounds, or comforting him when he came home. It was when his exhausted self entered the kitchen after a long day of responsibilities, only to find you leaned over the counter, whisking something in a bowl. The flour was spread around, and the movements of your arm were hasty. You didn't notice him, you didn't look at him at all.

And Mydei didn't know how to feel about this, either. A sense of anger born from a strange feeling of affection, and he left the room before you could've realised.

—

The situation between you and Mydei escalated. It was all in his long gazes and off hand comments that to most would be dismissed as sarcasm.

But not you.

It was all in his little mannerisms and intricacies, and you found he was not only shy, but quite shielded as well. And if it wasn't for you taking all the steps forward, he'd linger in the background—but you were his wife.

Slowly but surely you took off his armour, one that he insisted on wearing even at home, exposing his emotional vulnerabilities as time passed on. Mydei allowed you to be close; never too close.

"You can't be serious" a scoff came from your lips, and he really did it this time. He knew it. But exposing himself to danger was something inevitable for a chrysos heir.

He knew he could die. That would hurt you.

"you can't behave recklessly like this!" You threw the rag on his bare chest, looking up at him from your stance. His body and height no longer intimidated you.

Mydei frowned. "I'm a chrysos heir, don't you know that's what I'm meant to be doing?"

"Not at the expense of your health—" you snapped sharply, and his eyes narrowed at you. "I am your wife, and-"

His hand grasped your jaw, and he leaned that much closer to meet your height, his nose nearly poking yours.

"You're my wife, not my commander, nor my doctor.

So act like it."

[qqueenofhades]

fwiw: a lot of people follow @roach-works who just reblogged yo ur comments on history, books, and authoritarian regimes' inability to indoctrinate entire populations.

I'm an ex classics major with a lot of history under my belt, who knows Rome sutmr under a corrupt oligarchy even when it coughed up a hairball like Nero or Commodus. (Of course, it helped that Rome worked on the pragmatic principle, "How can we keep society and infrastructure functioning, given that positions of power tend to be occupied by the rich & corrupt?" I like to joke that Western Rome never fell; it just became the mafia.)

At any rate, my tendency to see the US through the lens of Rome makes me a pessimist: I assume we'll manage even in a dystopia.

I'm working on expanding my knowledge of world history to counteract that, but it's great to check in with a sane historian who will help me resist crowdsourced panicmongering.

Look, as I have said, I 0% blame anyone for being scared. I'm scared. With no exaggeration or hyperbole, Shit Real Bad, and it's undoubtedly going to get worse, at least in some ways, before we have a chance to make it better. It was completely avoidable, but half of America decided they didn't want to avoid it, so here we are.

Nonetheless, as my last reblog also pointed out, there are still basic historical and critical-thinking skills that we can use here, and to acknowledge that even if it is obviously unprecedented to us, it is not unprecedented to others, and we can study those lessons and think about how to apply them to our own situation. Rome is the obvious model for a world empire brought down by corruption, oligarchy, imperialism, endless foreign wars, income inequality, economic upheaval, excessive militarism, etc etc, but it's not the only one, and the "fall of Rome and start of the Dark Ages" is one of those narratives that gets my premodern-historian rant especially exercised. By the time Rome "fell" in 476, the city of Rome wasn't even the capital of the Empire; the western capital was in Ravenna, northern Italy, and the eastern capital was in Constantinople, where it endured for another thousand years. Roman successor kingdoms were founded in Visigothic Spain, Merovingian Francia, etc., and often imported Roman law, religion, bureaucracy/administration, and nobility relatively unchanged, which is why Latin was the legal, ecclesiastical, and educational language of western Europe until as late as 1962 and Vatican II. The "Dark Ages" are likewise at best an extreme simplification and at worst exceedingly misleading imperial-nostalgia propaganda. Etc etc. I will restrain myself.

Rome dominated the (European/Near Eastern/north African) world in the way that the 19th-century British Empire dominated the actual world and American empire dominates now, at least for the moment, and thus we have to recognize that similar dynamics are at play here in a late-stage imperial decline. However, Rome did not just up and vanish in a puff of smoke one day and never appear again, and we also have to recognize that the end of empires is generally a good thing, historically speaking. Yes, absolutely a turbulent, dangerous, and traumatizing time, especially for those living within the imperial core, but still. There's also the blunt fact that America itself has been responsible for a lot (a LOT) of violent regime change, coups, overthrows, bombings, and other disastrous foreign policy interventions for almost the entirety of its existence, and we can't pretend that we are just the shining beacon of unproblematic truth, freedom, and faith that most conservatives, and a lot of saccharine American-exceptionalism liberals, tend to think. If that comes back to bite us and we have to experience the kind of political and social upheaval that we have arrantly and unrepentantly inflicted on other places in the name of our Superior Right... well.

As for the post about history books (here), that was another attempt to push back against the kind of broad-strokes fearmongering that is often prevalent right now. Again: for completely understandable reasons, but still. There is literally no way on earth that the practice of academic history, or the procession of human events, is going to be destroyed because an orange dumbass and his idiot followers took power in America for eight nonconsecutive years. Even if by some miracle he managed to do it in America and the only thing ever officially published was Heritage Foundation balderdash, a) historians in countries other than America would still be writing books about it, and b) again, literally impossible. To return to the history of Soviet totalitarianism that I was addressing in that post, I suggest that people look into the samizdat, the contraband news and literature widely shared in the USSR. They faced far more stringent conditions than we ever will: the KGB controlled access to all word processors and copiers, precisely because they could be used to spread non-regime-approved information, and dissidents had to write and circulate it by hand. If they were caught, they could be disappeared, sent to the gulag, confined in a psychiatric hospital, subject to intensive "state education," etc. But they still managed to pass it around and read it, and it would be literally impossible for this collection of Trumpster chucklefucks to exert even a fraction of this logistical and physical control, when every citizen already owns a laptop and a smartphone. The history books aren't going anywhere.

That all said, of course we are all hyper-alert and anxious and afraid, and we don't want to miss anything that might be important or dangerous or anything else. I get that, I completely do. But we still have to pace ourselves, we still have to apply critical thought and learn how to educate ourselves when something seems huge and scary and unstoppable, and I am attempting to do a small part of that on a niche blue hellsite that won the social media competition by literally doing nothing while its peers all fell face first into being corporate Nazis. The bar is low. But hey, I'm here, and you're here and you're reading it, and we will get through it. I promise.

Courage, etc.

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Buried Secrets Chapter 1: Demons of Deception

Buried Secrets Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Summary: After the harrowing events in South America, Frankie and the guys have returned home and opened their own private security business. They're eventually approached by an archeologist, named Mya, who is requesting their specialized services for an archeological expedition in the Amazonian jungle of southeastern Peru, hours away from where they stashed Lorea's money just over the border in the mountains of northern Chile.

Frankie is hesitant to accept the job, but with Pope's insistence this could be their cover to go back for the money, he relents. However, Frankie soon learns their new job assignment only further puts them and his new love interest in danger in an unexpected way as they set out to find the lost Incan city of Paititi.

Word Count: 6.2k

👉 Warnings: smut (MDNI), angst, mentions of mental health struggles and past drug use (it's Frankie), there are bad guys with weapons (gun violence, physical violence, death). Frankie Morales comes with his own warnings.

👉 Chapter Warnings: Badass OFC, there are bad guys with weapons (gun violence, physical violence, blood), a surprise appearance or two, brooding Frankie

Chapter Quote: “Why don’t you come a little closer so you can experience the adventure for yourself.”

Mya’s POV

I had been in a lot of tight spots in the past, but nothing could compare to this. The most infuriating thing about it all, it wasn’t because of something I did. I was left to take the fall by someone that I thought loved me.

When I came to, I found myself suspended from the ceiling by my shackled hands. My toes barely touched the floor, just enough to help take some of the weight off my aching shoulders and wrist that stretched above my head. The room was empty and dark, only small hints of sunlight sneaking in through the thick tattered curtains.

Looking around, I saw no way out of this. There was nothing I could use to my advantage and my restraints seemed secure. They had done their due diligence in making sure I couldn’t escape. That was the downside to being taken hostage by people who were familiar with your unusual skill sets.

I wasn’t sure how much time passed before the door creaked open, but it felt like hours. A very pissed off looking Miguel Collazo and one of his enforcers strode into the room, pausing several feet in front of me. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach because I could sense he was beyond reason.

He gave me a menacing glare as he spoke with his thick Spanish accent, “I never thought I would find myself in this kind of situation with you, Mya. You are one of my best collectors, so I am torn on what to do with you.”

I was seething, “How about you unlock these cuffs and let me go. I had nothing to do with this, and you know it.”

He tutted, “I do not believe you. You and Damien have always been inseparable, so I know you know where he is. I want my artifacts and money back.”

Collazo was a pudgy little man with a crooked nose and curly villain mustache that rivaled Dustin Hoffman in Hook. He had a perpetually smug expression that I really wanted to bitch slap off his face as he smirked up at me.

“I don’t know where he is. What would he have to gain from leaving me behind?”

He shrugged as he began to pace back and forth in front of me, “I do not know, to keep me off his trail? It does not make sense to me that he would not tell you his plan.”

I scoffed, “Well I haven’t done that now have I? I have no fucking idea where he is. He was gone when I got home…his phone has been disconnected. I have no way of reaching him.”

The door swung open with a little more force this time. Comandante Veracruz entered, moving to stand next to Collazo. I could see his scruffy angled jaw ticking as his dark eyes looked me over from head to toe. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, I could only hope he would take pity on me and talk Collazo off the ledge.

Veracruz was head of security for Collazo. Damien and I had gotten to know him well since we worked closely on several heists in the past. He had made his affections for me obvious but would never have acted on them because of Damien. Now that Damien was long gone, I hoped I could use his affections to my advantage.

“What are you thinking?” He asked Collazo in his Spanish accent.

Collazo smiled, “Still undecided…I am going to let Diego work his magic and see what happens. If she knows, she will break.”

Veracruz shifted his gaze to me. He looked conflicted, but didn’t say anything further. Collazo looked to Diego, nodding in my direction as he rasped out, “Comenzar.” (Begin.)

Diego stalked forward, then backhanded me across the cheek. I let out a threatening chuckle as I shook it off. “This isn’t gonna change my answer. I don’t know anything. All you’re doing is pissing me off.”

Collazo laughed, “Good thing we have you chained up then… Continuar, Diego.” (Continue, Diego.)

Diego gave me an empty stare before punching me in the gut, knocking the air out of my lungs. He went on like this for several minutes, punching and slapping. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I pushed through the pain. I refused to let them see how bad I was hurting, even as I felt my left eye swelling and blood running down the sides of my face. All the while Collazo continued to question me.

“Perhaps you could also fill me in on what happened at Lorea’s? Was Damien involved with that too? How much of my money does he actually have?”

I shook my head, “I don’t know anything about that. Maybe he was. If he’s capable of this, then why not? But I don’t know anything. He didn’t tell me.”

Collazo inched forward, causing Diego to momentarily pause his blows and face him as he awaited further instructions.

“Are you sure you do not have anything you wish to tell me, Mya?” Collazo asked.

Clearly, this was going nowhere. It didn’t matter what I said. He didn’t believe me. I spit out the blood that was pooling in my mouth toward his expensive looking white leather shoes, “Yeah, fuck you.”

He didn’t seem impressed, “Still not breaking…I’m shocked. You are stronger than I would have guessed. Hora de tu especialidad, Diego.” (Time for your specialty, Diego.)

My breath caught in my throat as I watched Diego reach for the knife at his belt. A sadistic smile curling on his lips as he nodded in affirmation to his boss. However, he had made a mistake, standing too closely to me with his back turned. I reacted before he even realized what was happening, kicking the knife from his hand and using the chain as leverage to lift myself so I could wrap my legs around his neck. The adrenaline pumping through my veins allowed me to push through the debilitating pain, but I wasn’t sure how long I could hold him. Every muscle and joint in my body was protesting, but I still managed to clamp down tightly around his throat as he clawed at my jean-clad legs. He fought it for a time but eventually passed out from lack of oxygen.

Veracruz stood in shock as he watched Diego fall to his knees. Collazo let out a boisterous laugh and clapped his hands in amusement, “It’s always an adventure with you, Mya.”

I loosened my hold on Diego, allowing him to drop the rest of the way to the ground. I gave Collazo the best sarcastic smile I could muster in my current state, “Yeah? Why don’t you come a little closer so you can experience the adventure for yourself then.”

Collazo chuckled, “I am going to miss your feistiness.”

Veracruz finally interjected, “Perhaps she is telling the truth. It does not make sense that he would leave her if she knew something. Maybe he is planning to return for her?”

Collazo weighed Veracruz’s words, his eyes eventually narrowing in suspicion. “Then he will find that she is missing and that you wait in her place…Acaba con ella, Comandante.” (Finish her, Comandante.)

Fuck. How do I get out of this one?

Veracruz gave a curt nod, taking a deep breath as he drew his pistol and walked toward me. He made sure to stay far enough away that he was out of my reach, but I could still see the nervous sweat forming on his brow and conflict burning in his eyes as he aimed at my face. He held the weapon there, his nostrils flaring and jaw flexing as he clearly struggled with his instructions. I held his gaze, my eyes silently pleading with him in hopes it might sway him to help me in some way. If he didn’t, I was fucked.

“What are you waiting for, Comandante? Finish her,” Collazo ordered again.

I sighed. I didn’t want to do this, but it was the only card I had left to play if Veracruz wasn’t going to help me. I knew it would stop Collazo in his tracks, but I hated myself for it before the words even left my mouth. The Comandante’s finger slowly moved to the trigger, but he was still hesitating.

I flinched away from the barrel of the gun. “WAIT! Wait…” I finally called out.

Collazo sneered as he twisted his stupid mustache with his fingertips, “Better make it good, Mya. This is your last chance.”

I could feel the fight leaving my body as I finally shared the news that I hoped would save my life - at least until I could come up with another way out. “I know the location of Paititi.”

Veracruz lowered his weapon, then turned to give Collazo a questioning look. Collazo’s brows pinched together in doubt, “You lie.”

I shook my head, “I would never…not about this.”

He scoffed, “How do I know you are not just saying this so I do not kill you?”

I huffed out a nervous laugh, “Well, that’s exactly why I’m saying it…but it doesn't make it any less true. I’ve seen the Vatican documents. I know where to look.”

Collazo smiled contemptuously, “That’s impossible. They are inaccessible...How?”

This was the tricky part that was probably going to get me shot, “I-I can’t tell you how…but just know, if you shoot me, the knowledge dies with me. No one else knows about this, not even Damien.”

Veracruz smirked in my direction, “Well…it seems the secrets run deep between both of you then.”

I let out a sardonic laugh, “Damien never believed in Paititi…he said it was a wasted effort…a myth. I kept a lot from him...”

Collazo came closer but made sure to keep Veracruz positioned between us. “What are you proposing, Mya? How can I trust you after this?”

“Let me prove my loyalty. Let me lead an expedition to find the lost city for you. All I ask is that you let me do it the right way, the legal way. I just need funding…”

He didn’t seem convinced, but I was still breathing, so it wasn’t a no. I changed tactics, now playing the role of a hurt and scorned lover, “I swear, I had no knowledge of what Damien was doing. IF he comes back for me, I’ll kill him myself. He betrayed me too. I’m here because of what he did. I can’t forgive him for that.”

Collazo sighed, “If you want to do this the legal way, you know you cannot have any known ties to me…”

I had him. Death would not be taking me today, but I had to think quickly so I could talk myself out of this mess.

“I’ll figure out the logistics…Maybe I set up a donation fund through the gallery…you can donate anonymously to fund the project. I’ll give you access to whatever I find first before I report the discovery.”

This was far from how I wanted to do things, especially since I was hellbent on getting out of my life of crime, but I saw no other way forward at the moment.

Veracruz turned to Collazo, “If you’re willing to chance it, I can keep an eye on her…”

Collazo met my gaze, “Fine. One wrong move though…and you are done. You understand?”

I nodded, “Yes, I understand.”

My eyes shifted to Veracruz, who visibly relaxed, realizing the threat had passed. Collazo turned to leave and tossed him the key, “Cuida sus heridas.” (Take care of her wounds.)

He watched Collazo exit and close the door before he turned to me, leaning in close to my ear as he worked to unlock the cuffs, “I really thought I was about to have to shoot up the place to get you out of here. That was clever…how long can you keep this ruse going?”

The cuffs loosened, I groaned at the ache in my joints as I lowered my arms and leaned into him for support, “It’s not a ruse…I was telling the truth…”

My words trailed off as I sucked in a sharp breath.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

I shook my head, my breath now shaky as the pain began to overtake me, “Fuck n-no. I-I think he cracked some ribs.”

He sighed, “I’m sorry. I should have done something more…”

I winced as we began to walk, “No, I get it. It probably just would have gotten us both killed. You did what you could in the moment.”

Veracruz did have a soft spot for me, but I wasn’t a fool. He would never sacrifice himself for me. He wasn’t that selfless. He would only help so long as it didn’t put him in the crosshairs. He was an unreliable ally in the best of circumstances, and I knew that. At least he cared enough to see that I was taken care of while I recovered.

I knew I would have to watch out for myself as I plotted and planned because there were demons of deception around every corner. I could put my trust in no one, not even the one person I thought was safe. I was quickly learning they would all betray me in the end, which is why I wanted out of this life. I wanted to walk the straight and narrow again. The money was not worth death. It was getting too dangerous to continue living this way.

Six Months Later…

Frankie’s POV

I awoke with a groan, squinting toward the window to find the sun was just beginning to rise. The reason for my sudden waking, my cell phone incessantly pinging from incoming text messages on the nightstand. I didn’t even need to look to know that it was Pope. I huffed, reaching for the device to see what the hell he wanted this early in the morning.

Pope: We still on for the range today? I know we had a late night, but I’m still going.

Pope: Will and Benny are out. Apparently, Benny is feeling last night’s fight. He 100% got his ass kicked.

Pope: Which means Will is being his bitch today.

Pope: So, that leaves us. You better not stand me up, pendejo.

I rolled my eyes. Why can’t he just put all of that in one fucking message? He texts like a teenage girl.

Frankie: Chill the fuck out, pendejo. I’ll be there.

Pope: 9AM. Don’t be late.

Frankie: 🖕

Pope: 🖕🖕

I dropped the phone beside me on the bed and sighed. Without Benny and Will there, I knew Pope would start badgering me about going back for Lorea’s money. He was becoming almost obsessive over the idea. Not that I could blame him, having a little extra cash on hand would be a huge help right now. Supporting two households wasn’t easy, even if the new private security business was doing well.

I palmed at my sleepy face, trying to wake up. My eyes finally blinked open and surveyed my near empty bedroom. The bareness of the place was a constant reminder of how I had fucked everything up and ended up alone. Starting over was never fun, but this was torture knowing that my now ex-fiancé, Maria, had given me every chance and I squandered them. Now she was moving on, my young daughter now spending time with a new man in their life and calling him Papi while I fought for unsupervised visitation.

I had no one to blame but myself. I was the one who fell off the wagon and started a slow coke spiral after we got back from South America. What we had gone through, losing Tom, it was too much and we did it for nothing. We left with nothing to show for it but the body of our Captain. We got messy. I got messy. And it broke me. I should have put my foot down about how much weight that bird could carry. If I had, we might be living completely different lives right now. Tom might still be here.

I puffed air out of my cheeks before slinging the blanket off so I could go make some coffee. After padding down the short hallway of my very modest two-bedroom fixer-upper, I loaded up the coffee machine. I stood, leaning against the counter, scanning the space while the sputtering drips began to fall into the pot. I really needed to do something to make the place look less like military barracks and more like a home. Especially if I was eventually going to have my kid here. The mere thought of all the work that needed to be done made my chest feel tight. I had to shake my head to push the never-ending checklist out of my mind and focus on something else before it put me in an even worse mood.

Once my coffee was ready, I decided to sit out on the front porch swing to enjoy the calm of the morning. After getting comfortable, I let my mind run through several things that needed to be taken care of at the office. I was thinking through some budget requests while watching two squirrels chase each other around the base of an old Oak tree when movement on the street caught my attention. A blacked-out SUV crept down the road, eventually speeding up and disappearing around the corner. It put me on edge. It was too nice of a vehicle to be driving through this neighborhood.

I was probably just being paranoid, but the fear of one of Lorea’s business partner’s finding out who stole some of their money and then torched the rest was a very real concern - for me at least. The rest of the guys seemed to think we were in the clear. I wasn’t completely convinced, and it constantly had me on alert.

I sat for a while, my eyes scanning the quaint neighborhood I had chosen to settle down in, looking for anything that seemed out of place. Finding nothing, I eventually scoffed at myself, thinking that perhaps I was being ridiculous about this whole thing as I stood to go get ready to meet Pope.

A short time later, I found myself pulling into the gun range parking lot. This had become sort of a weekend routine for us. It served as an escape, allowing me to have a taste of the military life that I was so accustomed to before retiring. It was the only time I found that my mind was completely empty. There was something freeing about it, helping me to relax - most days. Today, however, was another story. I could tell from the look on Pope’s face as soon as he stepped out of his vehicle that he was cooking up some kind of plan.

He smiled as I approached, clapping me on the back in greeting, “Hey, hermano. You get enough sleep?”

I gave him a tight smile, “Could have gotten a little more if you weren’t texting me at the asscrack of dawn.”

Pope grimaced, “Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to the time.”

I rolled my eyes at him, “Of course not... What did you book for us today?”

He turned to grab his duffel out of the backseat, “I got us two one-hundred-yard lanes. They only had one three-hundred open.”

I shook my head, “Figures. Alright, let’s go.”

The range was busy, for which I was thankful. It made it harder for Pope to get a word in. There was an eventual lull in the shooting, and he wasted no time in taking advantage of it. He leaned in closer, pulling one side of his earmuffs away as we worked to reload. I did the same so I could hear what he had to say.

“I think I can get us into Columbia, off the radar. I’ve got a contact…”

I held up my hand, “Stop. I don’t wanna hear it.”

I could see the frustration on his face as his jaw tensed, “Come on Fish, this could work. I’ll cover the cost again…get the documents…everything. No one knows where that money is except for us. We shouldn’t run into any problems. There wouldn’t be any contact with the cartel. It’s a quick in and out.”

After inserting a fresh magazine into the rifle and replacing my earmuff, my lips set into a tight line. I gave him a tense look before stepping to the firing line to discharge at the target. My non-answer seemed to end the conversation, for now.

I took the time to get lost in the target, giving it all my focus as I peppered it with bullet holes in and around the center. My mind was finally quiet, and I reveled in it, wishing it would stay that way for the rest of the day. I knew that was wishful thinking though. It never did.

Once that magazine was empty, I returned to the table that separated my lane from Pope’s so I could reload. He joined me, staring off in the distance, seemingly distracted by something before finally turning his attention to me and removing his right muff. I did the same as I gave him a warning with my eyes.

“How’s it going with Maria? Any headway?”

I shook my head, “Nope. If she has it her way, I’ll get zero visitation. She’s done with me…won’t listen to anything I have to say. She doesn’t believe I’ve cleaned up my act.”

Pope sighed as he gave me a sympathetic look, “Sorry, hermano. I hoped she would come around. Don’t let it get you down though. We’ve got your back. Whatever you need…”

I nodded, “Yeah, I appreciate it. I might need you guys as character witnesses if it gets to that point.”

He gave me a soft reassuring smile, “Consider it done.”

His eyes drifted again as a larger caliber rifle began to sound off from the far lane. He seemed intrigued as I raised a questioning eyebrow at him. He glanced over at me, jerking his chin upward indicating I should have a look. It didn’t take me long to figure out what had his attention, or who rather. There was a woman in the farthest three-hundred-yard lane, lying on her stomach, shooting the high caliber rifle that had ended our conversation. She was wearing army green fatigues that definitely did not fit like military issue pants as they hugged her curvy hips and ass just right. She was also wearing a black ribbed tank top, black military style boots, and a black SWAT hat pulled down low over her aviators. Her dark hair was tied back in a messy knot at the nape of her neck. I could see why she had his attention. Aside from her attractive form, this wasn’t a sight we saw here very often.

As she stood, she turned toward us. Her eyes hidden behind the dark glasses with her lips set into a tight line, giving nothing away. I glanced at Pope, who seemed smitten already. I rolled my eyes at him as I stepped back up to the firing line. Hot women were always his weakness. He would disagree, but we all knew it.

When I returned to the table, it was clear Pope was still distracted as he continued to glance her way. His eyes finally met mine. “You been out with anyone since you and Maria split?” he asked.

I gave him an admonishing look as I shook my head. I didn’t feel like that was the best idea right now. I had too much going on.

It was his turn to roll his eyes, “Not saying you need to step into anything serious, but you do need to lighten up. A one-nighter might do you some good and help with that.”

I glared at him, “I’m not doing that. It always turns into trouble.”

He snorted, “Well…maybe you should be worse at it, so they don’t come back for more.”

I could feel my cheeks warming from his words as I flashed my middle finger at him, “Fuck off.”

He jerked his chin toward the last lane as the woman got into position again, hitting the three-hundred-yard target dead center when she finally shot off a round.

“You should go ask her out.”

I scoffed, “No. I’m not…”

Pope jutted his hip out, putting his weight on one foot, “Come on… Maria’s moving on. It’s time you did too.”

I could feel my jaw flexing at the mention of that, “No. Just let it go.”

Pope chuckled, “Yeah, I don’t blame you. That looks like too much woman for you to handle anyway. She’d probably kick your ass…I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

I shook my head, giving him an exasperated look, “What the hell does that even mean?”

He gave me a mischievous smile as he shrugged, then turned toward the firing line to begin shooting again.

Fucker. I was half tempted to talk to her just to prove a point.

I suddenly felt like eyes were on me as I glanced back over at the woman. I couldn’t tell because of her glasses, but it appeared that she was looking directly at me with a small smirk on her full lips. One eyebrow raised slightly as she picked up another clip, returning to the rifle to reload it. Now I was intrigued.

By the time Pope and I finished off our last magazine, she was gone. As we walked to the parking lot, Pope was quietly berating himself for letting the opportunity pass before he asked if I thought she might be back again. I shrugged, somewhat amused over his new infatuation because I knew he would be distracted by someone else as soon as he stepped foot into the bar later this evening.

After our goodbyes, I made my way to the local auto parts store to pick up a couple of specialty tools that I needed for a restoration I was currently working on in my spare time. I had inherited my dad’s dark red 1970 Chevelle SS 454 when he passed away several years ago. We always said we would work together to fix it up, but it never happened. Instead, it sat idle in his garage for years. It did the same after I took over ownership of it, not having the time or the energy for it. Now that I was alone, I found myself with plenty of opportunities and the need to keep myself occupied. It was another one of those things that helped keep my mind distracted when I needed it most. I was actually thankful for it even though it was turning into an expensive project.

With the new tools in tow, I returned home. After making myself a quick sandwich and scarfing it down, I sequestered myself away in the dilapidated shack beside the house that was meant to serve as a garage. It quickly became my refuge, and I had zero complaints about it - even if it did have a leaky roof and shitty lighting. It got the job done and that was all that mattered.

I spent all afternoon working, attempting to keep my mind from drifting to thoughts of the large bags full of money hidden in the Andes mountains of Chile. After the cluster fuck we got into last time we were in South America, I was having a hard time reconciling the idea of going back. Pope was right, we had no reason to interact with the cartels this time. We could easily sneak in and collect the cash without anyone knowing, assuming it was still where we left it.

What we should do about the money was a constant internal battle for me. I didn’t know if I should accept Pope’s reasoning over mine. However, the fear of losing another team member acted as a grey cloud that hung over my head and kept me from going back. I couldn’t go through that again. It affected every decision I had made since we got back. I couldn’t shake it no matter how hard I tried. The risk was too high without guarantee of a reward.

While I respected Pope’s attempts, I still had to consider outside forces that we had no control over. He had all of the trust in the world for his ‘contacts,’ but I didn’t. It would only take one of them to tip off the cartel if they got wind of what we were doing. It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take. I had spent hours going through every angle, all the possible problems we could run into. All of his plans seemed too dangerous, leaving too many unknowns. He just needed to accept that as my final decision and stop trying to rope us into another one of his crazy plans.

That was my final thought on it - for today anyway.

Mya’s POV

I had been planning the expedition for six months, meticulously researching every detail. That’s how I ended up at the local gun range for the last three Saturdays, doing a little recon on the owner of the security firm I was looking to hire. Collazo offered to provide security, but I needed this to be as far removed from him as possible to protect the reputation of my Gallery and the Archaeology Preservation Foundation that I had set up to fund the dig. Veracruz would still be on site to keep an eye on things, but all other aspects of the project were up to me and that included keeping my team safe.

Delta 5 Security Solutions had been recommended to me by a number of high-profile locals. It was owned by a military veteran named Francisco Morales, who worked to keep other veterans employed. Because of this, Delta 5 Security Solutions seemed much more equipped to handle the dangers of the Peruvian jungle than other firms. Word on the street was that they even offered specialized air transport services, on occasion. I needed a couple of pilots, so they seemed to check all the boxes. It would save me from having to set up multiple contracts at least.

The more time I spent watching Francisco, the more I questioned if he was the right choice. He definitely didn’t have the brightest of personalities, often seeming frustrated and stressed when he arrived at the range - like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. I could, however, see his focus and determination as he fired at the targets. He was a good shot and exuded authority and control with his weapon. Sure, he came across as a little disheveled and scruffy, but there was something under the surface that intrigued me just enough to see where things went.

Like most Saturdays, Francisco wasn’t alone for his latest outing. He was accompanied by one of his employees, Santiago Garcia. Santiago seemed a lot more easy going and appeared to enjoy pushing Francisco’s buttons based on the serious side eye that was being thrown his way. From the intel I had gathered, these two, along with the Miller brothers, all served in the same military unit and seemed to be close friends in addition to running the security firm together. I had been watching all of them over the last several weeks to get a feel for their dynamic. I could see that they were loyal to each other and worked well together. It was almost for those reasons alone that I felt they would be a good fit. At least they understood loyalty and it left me wondering how loyal they could be to me if things took a turn.

However, I knew this all hinged on Francisco accepting the job. I had been warned that he wasn’t big on risks and wasn’t afraid to turn jobs down for that reason. He really was an enigma that I couldn’t figure out. Aside from his gruff demeanor, he seemed quiet and introspective - a reluctant leader, but the guy in charge, nonetheless. He also seemed to be having some life struggles but appeared to be on the upswing from those. I was concerned that it could serve as a distraction for him, but I still found myself wanting him and his team. I wouldn’t settle for anything less. My gut told me there was more to him than meets the eye and I wanted the opportunity to peel back those layers so I could find out who he really was as a person.

As I positioned myself on the ground to shoot the high caliber rifle that I had rented from the range, I could feel eyes on me. It probably wasn't the best choice since I hadn’t intended to draw attention to myself. There weren't a lot of women at the range, let alone any shooting a weapon like this at three-hundred yards. After hitting the target with multiple rounds, I stood, adjusting my aviators as I glanced toward the two men I was here to watch, realizing that I definitely had Santiago’s attention. Francisco gave me a brief glance before stepping up to shoot his own rifle. I had to give it to him; he didn’t allow for distractions. Santiago on the other hand, seemed to have at least one weakness. Women. I couldn’t help rolling my eyes over that realization as I packed up to leave.

After running home to shower and change into more professional attire, I headed toward my antiquities gallery to open for the day. Soon after opening, a well-dressed gentleman with dark hair and a beard entered, immediately asking to speak with the owner. The first thing I noticed were his kind eyes and submissive nature. He definitely had the tall, dark, and handsome thing going for him. Once I introduced myself, he got down to business with a polite smile.

“I apologize for showing up without an appointment, but I got a lead on this painting and wanted to follow up on it right away. I’m looking to purchase and pay cash if you have it…or can point me in the right direction.”

I returned his polite smile with one of my own, “If you can provide me with the details, I’d be happy to check our inventory for you.”

He pulled out his phone, tapping away to pull up a picture, “It's the Cazador (The Hunter), by Luis Magin…a 20th century Maya oil painting.”

I could feel my blood run cold as my body tensed. This was a missing painting listed in the National Stolen Art File. I was taken aback that this man would be asking for stolen artwork. He didn’t seem the type.

I laughed nervously, “Sir, I’m sorry…but we don’t sell stolen art. I’m not sure why you were sent here…”

He reached to pull a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and held it up, revealing Damien’s name scribbled on it. I could feel my breathing pick up as I fought to stay calm. Something felt wrong about this.

“I was told you could put me in contact with Damien Ravenwood…”

He seemed a little pushier now, like that name was supposed to magically solve the problem.

I shook my head, “I no longer associate with Damien Ravenwood…for obvious reasons. I don’t allow black market antiquities in my gallery.”

The man narrowed his eyes slightly, “My apologies. It must be a misunderstanding…”

His words trailed off as he reached inside the breast pocket of his suit jacket to pull out a business card, handing it over as he continued, “If he happens to show up…for any reason at all, please give me a call. I’d love to lock him down for a few minutes of his time.”

I glanced at the name on the card, Vincent Delacroix. It was obviously fake - a mashup of two famous painter’s names. There was nothing else on the card but a phone number. I gave him a tight-lipped smile as I waved the card in the air, “Yeah, sure, Mr. Delacroix. I’ll be sure to send him your way.”

There was something seriously off with this guy. I wasn’t sure if he was a black-market buyer or working undercover. Either way, I did not want to be in the middle of it. ‘Mr. Delacroix’ nodded and smiled before moving toward the exit. He paused halfway to the door, turning back in my direction, “I’m assuming you no longer have contact with Miguel Collazo either then? Or Persephone, by chance?

I could feel my jaw clench at the mention of Collazo and my black-market alias. I shook my head, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve had any dealings with those individuals.”

He gave me a charming smile in return, “Yeah, I thought that might be the case. Never hurts to ask...Thank you for your time, Miss Carnahan.”

He hesitated briefly, still smiling as he turned to leave. Once he finally exited the building, I let out the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.

I was startled from my thoughts when my archivist, Emily, appeared at my side. “Who was that?” she asked.

“Honestly, I have no idea…if he shows back up, come get me. No one else talks to him. Understood?”

She nodded in agreement.

The day was certainly taking a turn that I hadn’t expected. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about as it was, it felt like something else had just been added to the list.

Chapter 2: The Divine Source

✨If you would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to shoot me a DM or leave a comment.

A/N: SURPRISE! I know I said I wouldn’t start posting until Closed Position was complete, but it’s taking me for fucking ever to finish that one and I think I’ve made you wait long enough. Since I’ve got a decent start with this lovey adventure, I’ll go ahead and start posting. 😘

Now that we’ve gotten the first chapter out of the way, what are your thoughts? How are we feeling about Mya and Frankie? We definitely started with a bang (no pun intended).

I know I teased that Veracruz would be making an appearance. It turns out…he may have a slightly bigger role than I originally planned. We need a little extra tension with Frankie and I think Veracruz will serve as an excellent plot device for that. How do we feel about him so far? 🤭

We had another special appearance too. Anyone want to take a guess on who Mya’s surprise visitor is?

In the next chapter: Mya will drop in to visit the boys, Frankie has a decision to make, Mya accidentally gets a little nerdy on Frankie, and Frankie and Veracruz cross paths. Please do share your predictions. 😏

Tag group 1:

@2birdsofafeather @72scsuze @76bookworm76 @a-beautiful-but-sassy-world @almostfoxglove

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine @annalovesflorida @anniet852 @ashleyfilm @ashlovesdrpepper

@auteurdelabre @avastrasposts @biggetywitch @bitchwitch1981 @bluestar22x

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@ladyofmidlo72 @lizzie-cakes @madnessofadaydreamer @maggiemoo1892

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

the fog. l Joel Miller

Summary: something that happened made the memories come back

Warnings: angst, mentioning violence and death, two dead, blood and gore, lots of fear, Ellie and Tommy, vomiting, Reader is broken, allusions to sexual abuse and torture

A/N: maybe I shouldn't have added this part so quickly, but I had it in my head and I literally had a few free hours. I don't know when I'll be so lucky again. there are definitely a lot of mistakes here. please, be understanding. I meant well.

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

When you left Jackson with Sam and Anthony the weather had definitely turned bad. After a few days of beautiful sunshine and blue skies, dark clouds brought rain and everything became grey and gloomy. 

Joel tried to hide his anxiety as you watched with such enthusiasm as you packed your backpack, reassuring him once again that you had packed everything. Even the knife he had once given you was safely in your pocket. If it weren't for that damned hand, he would have gone instead of you, but he didn't want to burden you with his worries.

After the last expedition for supplies, after you snapped, you needed him more than ever. But now you had to get back on your feet again, on your own. He knew it had nothing to do with him, but he was still worried.

"See you in a few days," you said, kissing him fondly goodbye.

"Don't be late."

You smiled, squeezed his good hand, and set off with Sam and Anthony.

Three or four days. That's how long, according to Tommy's estimate, this expedition should take. You were supposed to get to a nearby town, it was abandoned and none of you had been there for some time. After everything that could be used had been taken away from there many times, there wasn't much to be found. However, for safety's sake, the area should be checked.

Joel couldn't sit in an empty house. He tried to keep himself occupied, he went to the stables a few times, but his thoughts began to wander into dangerous areas. So he spent time with Tommy and the others, looked at the map, wondered where you were and if everything was okay.

Ellie spent time with her friends, but whenever she saw Joel, or when they met at the house, she asked about you. He didn't have to answer her much. The important thing was that she didn't hear any bad news.

On the third day, it started to rain. Small drops, the ones you hated so much. Joel smiled, because he could already see your gloomy face when you came back soaked. However, the day passed and you were gone.

Four days. Tommy said it could be four days. He kept repeating it to himself, but when he met his brother, he saw the same anxiety in his eyes.

That night, Joel didn't sleep a wink. Along with the usual guard, he sat on the wall and stared at the horizon as if you were going to appear there at any moment. This was the second time you were late. But now you went there because he couldn't, so he felt an additional sense of guilt.

"They'll come back, they always come back." Tommy didn't sound too confident when he said it.

"If something happened..."

Tommy looked at his brother. He could only guess how hard it was for him, the fear of loss was so damn strong in him, and this situation didn't help.

The sixth day. From early morning in Jackson, people began preparing to go in search of you. A group of about ten men were ready to set off. Joel was furious when Tommy refused to let him go.

"You're in a sling! You can't fucking ride." and then he watched in horror as his brother freed his arm and, although wincing in pain, mounted the horse.

He couldn't fight him. He wouldn't stand a chance.

The road wasn't easy. The ground was damp and muddy, it was cold and unpleasant. The group didn't say much, they focused more on observation, to find some trace as soon as possible or to spot someone approaching them.

Joel tried not to focus on the unpleasant feeling that accompanied horseback riding. He guessed that the bone might have healed, but it was still very sensitive. However, his brain was focused only on you, the rest was not important.

With difficulty, he was convinced to stop. Night was approaching and there was no point in everyone risking it. If it weren't for Tommy and the others, Joel would probably have gone on alone. However, he stayed and as soon as the sun appeared on the horizon, he was already on his feet and driving everyone to continue their journey.

The fog engulfed the area, and the cold seeped into his jacket. Silence, only the sounds of horses and the forest. But, unexpectedly, something changed.

Tommy's horse twitched, startled by something, and right after that Joel felt his own move strangely too. Something must have been approaching them and the animals must have sensed it. He reached for his weapon and tried to peer into the nearby trees and undergrowth, to see some movement, maybe a figure or an animal.

Joel's heart stopped a second later.

You looked terrifying. He noticed immediately that something was wrong. He jumped off his horse and before Tommy could stop him, he was already running towards you. You tried to run too, as soon as you realized who you had met, but you were too tired. Your knees were buckling under you and tears were welling up in your eyes, and you couldn't hold them back anymore. When Joel grabbed you in his arms, you sank down onto the grass.

"Riders... There were riders." You whispered in a trembling voice.

More people surrounded you, but you were only staring into those brown eyes, the ones that were home and a symbol of safety.

"Are you hurt, baby?" he gasped, looking at you in horror.

Your clothes were covered in blood, as were your face and hands. He noticed the cut on your jacket, but the wound on your arm was no longer bleeding. Neither was your lip.

You shook your head. "Sam... Anthony... They're dead."

"How many are there? Were they in the city?" Tommy asked. You didn't even flinch. Your lips twisted, however, and after a moment you burst into tears.

"Sam and Anthony... I couldn't do anything..."

Familiar hands grabbed your face, pushing back your wet and dirty hair. A terrifying sob escaped your throat.

"Did they do something to you? Tell me!" Joel asked, maybe a little too nervously, but everything inside him was boiling.

You were too distraught, alternately sobbing and repeating the names of your companions, repeating that they were dead, talking about the Riders, and crying again.

Your fingers dug into the ground as hysteria slowly consumed you. Like you had been strong for too long and only now, with Joel before you, had all the dams given way. Your voice was incoherent, jumbled sobs and the same repeated words blending together.

Finally, Joel turned your face towards him, shook you as if he hoped it would bring you to your senses. For a moment he saw it in your eyes - total terror and brokenness.

"Tell me everything, please."

Somehow the words spilled from your lips.

Joel didn't remember how you got back to Jackson, or how you ended up at your house. Ellie's face showed complete fear when she saw you, but she quickly followed Joel's instructions.

She was the one who drew you a bath, and put your comfortable clothes on the counter by the sink. Without a word, she left the bedroom and closed the door behind her. 

Just like you had done a few days earlier, it was Joel who helped you take off your clothes. Layer by layer, all dirty and wet. You jumped like a startled animal when a sound like something heavy falling to the floor came from downstairs.

"It's nothing." Joel quickly tried to calm you down. "Ellie wants to make you some tea. She's just a little clumsy..."

You nodded, but the fear didn't leave your eyes. Finally, when he took off your underwear, he helped you get into the tub and you immersed yourself in the hot water. The scent of lavender reached your nostrils and the warmth began to envelop you, slowly permeating the layers of your frozen skin.

Seeing you like this always broke his heart. Yes, you were only human and you didn't have to be strong all the time. However, you carried wounds that clearly couldn't heal. Joel knew there was nothing he could do, but he would give anything to be able to take this burden off your shoulders, to take it upon himself so that it would be easier for you.

Carefully, with a wet towel, he washed your face and hands. He did it slowly, as if he could wash away the bad memories from you. It was only after several long minutes that you spoke. Almost a whisper, your voice was dead and alien. Joel listened, although he knew he might regret it later.

"I was part of a group that got out of one of the cities controlled by FEDRA. A few outcasts, a few who wanted to find their loved ones, a few who wanted to have adventures. And me. Maybe ten people, something like that. It was unwise, I know, but then..." you took a deep breath and wrapped your arms around your knees, letting Joel carefully clean the wound on your shoulder. "It was fine for a long time. A few broke away, went their own way. That's fine. I stayed, I didn't have a plan, I didn't have anyone close enough to look for or follow him. One guy was a Firefly, as was his girlfriend. I thought... Why not? I was good at what I did, but not good enough..."

You froze. Joel didn't say a word. He guessed what he might hear next.

"We met them when we entered some city, I don't even know what the sign at the entrance said. First a few infected, quick work. And then... It was a larger and well-organized group, and we were like ducks in a shooting gallery. I killed one or two of them and hid. I waited until nightfall, and they... I heard everything." Nails dug into your flesh, but you didn't react to it. Once you started, you couldn't finish talking. "I heard everything. What they did to those girls, how they slowly finished off the guys. It was a long night... I didn't dare go out in the morning. I waited again until nightfall. I was paralyzed. Only then did I get out of the city and hide in the forest. I don't remember how I got to Jackson, I sat there for a while, but I couldn't be around people. So I started hanging around the area again... Closer and further away. After a while, I came across you." Your eyes found him. Joel noticed how much sadness there was in them and how much it cost you to tell him all of this.

"Baby..." he said quietly "I'm so sorry you went through this..."

"On that patrol... I couldn't do anything. I didn't hide like I did then, but I couldn't do much and..." your breathing quickened, your eyes glazed over again and Joel grabbed your face trying to calm you down.

"No one blames you for this. Fuck! Baby, I should have been there, not you. It was me..."

"You could be dead already!" you interrupted him sharply "I don't want you to feel sorry for me, I don't want pity. I survived it and I would do it again if I had to. I did terrible things, but for you, for Ellie, for Tommy and Maria, I would do it all over again."

Joel understood that. He understood you really well and he felt that it was you who gave him strength at that moment, and not him giving it to you.

"Hi. I brought some soup. Maria made more, she thought you probably have other things on your mind right now."

Joel nodded and let Tommy in. It was dark. He'd only managed to convince you to go to bed an hour ago, and he was trying to find a place to sit and think.

Tommy put two jars of soup on the counter and leaned against it, folding his arms over his chest. "How is she?"

"Fine, if I may say so." Joel sighed, sitting down at the table. "Ellie is there. She's in bed with her so she can sleep."

Tommy nodded. "She was in terrible shape. God! Two days without sleep, food or water, in this condition..." Joel rubbed his forehead with his hand and closed his eyes for a moment, he still had your terrified face in front of him. "Did they? You know..."

He shook his head. "They didn't make it. She ran away when she had the chance."

“The scars and wounds will heal, but here…” Tommy touched his temple with a finger, and Joel nodded to show he understood. “A group will go tomorrow to see what happened there. She said there might have been ten of them, we’ll check it out.”

He noticed his brother straighten up, dark eyes looking at him carefully. "I'm going with them."

"Are you crazy!" Tommy snorted. "With your shoulder and when she's like this? Besides, she'd cut my balls off if she found out I let you go."

Joel stood up abruptly, slamming his hand on the table, anger written all over his face. "I have to find them. For what they did to her... Fuck! You didn't see her!"

The younger brother watched him carefully, but also with fear. He knew that in anger his brother could do terrible things, and although he wanted to get his hands on those men, he didn't want to risk him too. Finally he shook his head.

"No way. You should stay here. She needs you, more than ever."

"I can help you!" Joel hissed, already furious. "I can't wait here while they fucking torture her."

"No! I don't agree." Tommy continued. "This is a crazy idea."

"I don't fucking care! You don't know how I feel! I should be there, not her. I could have lost her too, do you understand?! I can't wait and do nothing!"

"But you will! Because she should be your priority right now, not revenge." He noticed that Joel's eyes were getting glassy, ​​he tried to hide it clumsily by looking away. "She's already saved my life, I'm grateful for that. So I can't let you risk yours, she wouldn't want that."

"You don't know what she wants." Joel snorted.

"She definitely wants you and Ellie to be safe. Listen..." he approached him and put his hand on his shoulder "We'll find those people. But you have to take care of her now and..."

The noise upstairs drew their attention. Quick footsteps, a slam of a door, and then another. Ellie's cry echoed downstairs.

"Joel! Quick!"

He and Tommy were upstairs in a flash, then burst into the bedroom. They saw a terrified Ellie, who pointed to the bathroom, and Joel guessed he'd find you there. When he entered, he saw you huddled by the toilet, spasms of retching racking your body, your shirt wet and stuck to your back.

"Baby..." he groaned, kneeling next to you and brushing your hair away.

You were unable to answer. Only Ellie, who slipped in behind them, spoke quietly.

"I don't know what happened. I must have fallen asleep... Suddenly she woke up screaming, jumped out of bed and... Joel, is she okay?" 

He didn't know what to answer. He saw Tommy's face, who was just as scared as he was.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again

[danadiadea]

I am pretty sure Severus didn't see Lily's face "twitching"? I mean, he was hanging upside down with his cloak covering his face, so it was not about that. I think it was mostly about James's attempt to emasculate him because he was defended "by a girl" (didn't they start calling him Sn*velus because Lily brought him out of conflict in the train, huh? i'm telling you, james potter loooves women), and quite possibly about the rejection of his friendship with a muggleborn he encountered in Slytherin, but also about the way Lily defended him.

I don't think Lily's attempts in defence were flirty (even though Rowling clearly assumes they are and fuck that sick misogynistic idea of romance), but they truly were half-hearted. I would have understood if Lily hadn't moved on to more serious actions, because her character was described as calm, gentle and not inclined to fight, but this is not the case for Lily. She chose to interfere, but not to stop them.If, while I was being physically and/or sexually assaulted, my friend instead of calling authorities (teachers) for help, disarming the aggressor, or at least helping me get back MY weapon, had just stood there and verbally shit on the abuser while they continued to endanger and assault me, I wouldn't have gone to apologize to them ever, I would actually expect apologies. Slurs are harmful, but if Severus had called Lily a fucker, I would have no complaints against him.

Lily had a solid right to end their friendship with Severus, of course, but that's not the same as leaving one alone when they are defenseless in front of a crowd of people who are determined to cause them serious harm. If Lily had made sure that nothing was threatening Sev's physical safety and then called him a complete idiot and ended their friendship, I would have no complaints against her either. I don't care if you are friends or not, I wouldn't leave the biggest scumbag in the world in a situation like that.

It seems to me that most of the hate that is Lily gets exists because she was extremely idealized (in quite a few parts of the fandom and in the books and the films and rowling interviews), and now this is the backlash. She actually is just a fifteen-year-old girl, she doesn't have to possess exceptional empathy, be extremely selfless or understanding beyond average. She wasn't an ideal friend to Severus, and Severus wasn't an ideal friend to her, because they were just messy teenagers in difficult circumstances. I mean, when Voldemort came to her house to kill her family, she literally started blocking up the door with boxes and a chair! Obviously, she's still just a teenager in a way. But when she is painted as an absolute saint, whose choices are the measure of moral goodness and impeccable logic, a lot of people look at this and see the incongruity and become pissy.

Oh, and regarding the werewolf prank, Lily didn't know what exactly had been that danger to Severus' life or how serious the situation was, because he couldn't tell her. Yes, she gaslighted him about his traumatic experiences, but she simply couldn't understand what Severus is going through, not only because she has not yet fully developed empathy and a lot of life experience, but also because Severus himself speaks sparingly about his problems, which we see when he talks about his father for example. Sev is admittedly not good in being vulnerable, and the environment didn't help. It's not Lily's fault that she can't fully understand him, nor is it Severus' fault.

However, I understand the fandom's desire for their favorite character to have a more reliable and supportive "perfect" friend to handle all his traumas, because can't we have that unrealistic shit at least in fiction?

for all that us snape fans say how we love his character because he is flawed and complex, i find it disappointing how many of us can't extend that line of thinking towards lily, while pretending that young severus was entirely innocent. i've noticed this a lot recently and it's been bothering me quite a bit so i've felt the need to defend lily, or to be exact, analyse the downfall of their relationship without basically giving her all the blame and instead looking at both characters and especially lily more critically.

so. let's talk about the conversation between her and severus after the werewolf prank. some snape fans harshly criticise her in this scene because she insists that james saved severus and doesn't acknowledge how serious this prank was, while insisting that at least the marauders don't use dark magic.

and i agree that she should have been more on severus' side in this case. after all he could have died or gotten seriously injured, turned into a werewolf etc and she downplays the severity of the situation and generally doesn't acknowledge how the marauders bullied severus very much. so yes, she could have been a better friend here.

but at the same time, from her perspective, she was already noticing that severus was spending more time with his housemates, all of them aspiring death eaters, how he had always looked up to lucius and was slowly heading down that same path. how he didn't truly disapprove of his housemates disgusting actions towards muggleborns - her own kind. even though it's not entirely logical, since we see through the marauders that light magic can be used to do harm aswell, this also explains her dislike of dark arts, which these (aspiring) death eaters all were fond of and using to do awful things to her friends (and hogwarts also pretty much teaches that dark magic is pure evil). by this point she had most likely also experienced discrimination at hogwarts for being muggleborn. she knew the situation in the wizarding world wasn't favourable for her, and now her best friend was starting to agree with those people?

the next notable event was of course snapes worst memory (sigh, here i go talking about it for the millionth time). and i really don't like how some people on our side of the fandom talk about lily in this scene (of course, this is not all of us).

first of all we saw that she initially smiled upon seeing severus be bullied, and yes, this was honestly quite disgusting. we know that severus saw this and was rightfull hurt, and this very well could be the reason why he snapped at her. but that is her only 'crime' in this scene. because she then does quickly turn against james and this entire crowd and defends severus. only for james to insult and threaten her, and severus to call her a 'filthy little mudblood'.

now, people say she should have done more to defend severus, that her attempt was quite half-hearted. i don't know. maybe she could have done more, but she did tell the marauders to stop, you can't say she didn't try. some say she should have hexed james herself or bring up her prefect role (although i'm not sure it's confirmed she was one at this time). but say she was a prefect, her job would be to stop fighting, which she tried to do, not to get involved in fights herself. and you can tell that james is entirely dismissive of her and clearly won't let her stop him no matter what, even threatening her in the process. lily also genuinely seems to still hate him at this point in time, she is described to have been disgusted with him to the point where even harry questions his parents marriage. so i don't believe it's fair to say she was just 'flirting' with james here.

furthermore, people believe she should have forgiven severus for being called a mudblood. i used to agree that it wasn't that serious, but i feel differently now. because it wasn't just a word, it wasn't a one time mistake or slip up or even the first time she noticed that he was slowly turning into a future death eater. that's why i brought up their conversation after the prank. lily knows that severus' descend into the death eaters arms had been going on for months, years even. being called - not even just mudblood, but hearing the words "i don't need help from a filthy little mudblood like her" out of the mouth of her former best friend was just the final nail in the coffin. it was her confirmation that severus was finally too far down that road, and she, as a muggleborn, could no longer justify surrounding herself with him. so she abandons him at the scene, and i can't blame her one bit.

of course this post is not meant to be severus bashing in any way, he is and always will be my favorite character, but i don't enjoy pretending he was completely innocent, even his younger self. this is also not to excuse the marauders, as their bullying never had anything to do with severus possibly being a death eater and was really just for fun and because they could, and because he was an easy victim. but i truly believe that lily deserves some grace and also to be analysed as a complex character like severus, rather than painting her as one dimensional, either fully good or fully bad.

severus becoming a death eater is the tragic result of his background and surroundings, and when we analyse him we factor all of this in. lily was wealthier, had a better family, was pretty, smart and popular and had a good support system in and out of hogwarts. she couldn't understand why severus made the choices he did. maybe as an adult she would have looked back and understood it all better. but as it was, she was just a teenage girl watching her best friend turn against people like her and not knowing what to do about that. and what's also important to me to point out is that it was not her job to try and stop this, to try and fix him or whatever. it was first and foremost the adults in severus' life who failed him over and over again, not lily.

finally a lot of us can't understand how lily ended up marrying her former friends abuser and use this as an argument against her, but i honestly don't want to go too deep into this topic. i personally strongly dislike this relationship, because james treated lily herself like shit too, aswell as other people. we have to believe that he truly did change, even if there is not much to prove this. even if he did, i personally wouldn't have been able to forgive him. but i don't believe that marrying james makes lily a bad person by extension or anything. ultimately, if she was able to find happiness, i'm happy for her.

[madelynhimegami]

Arle Nadja Guide

I've heard a couple people say that they feel like they don't really get a good feel for who Arle is. Dunno if this will change their minds any, but I hope it helps.

Arle Nadja is freewheeling and easy come, easy go girl.

She loves adventure and exploring. Especially when that prominantly involves dungeon crawling.

Helps that she's been doing it from age 4.

Arle is, in fact, so hooked on dungeon crawling that Ringo and Amitie had to actively prevent her from entering what she already knew was a trap made to look like a dungeon entrance.

In addition to the adventuring, Arle likes travel as a means to meet new people with different ways of living.

She's well aware that most of her friends (especially from her own world) are insane. But she loves them regardless.

Arle isn't materialistic. As long as she has a way to get her basic needs met, her interest in wealth is, at most, transient.

Similarly, she's not particularly interested in becoming powerful.

I think she still likes learning new stuff about magic, including new spells, but the power of the magic in question is inconsequential to her.

Arle acts and speaks very casually, regardless of where she is or who she's talking to. She doesn't really care for formality and dislikes being expected to act a certain way.

Consequently, she has no reason to really ever acknowledge or respect authority without them earning it.

She made fun of brick jesus and his decisions to his face (at least before learning she was dealing with a small child).

I feel like Arle tends to be pretty good at reading vibes of others. As in, she can generally tell if someone is dangerous, stupid, struggling, being forced to act a certain way, sincere, or manipulative.

If so, she doesn't use that skill very often, because she's encountered too many people she will never understand she prefers to live and let live.

Arle is always willing to lend a hand to those in need of one. In fact, she's not very good at refusing to help, if asked.

Arle doesn't plan ahead very much. She just goes with the flow of things and assume that it'll all end up working out for the better.

She's not particularly inclined to strategic thinking (though she is perfectly capable of it). Her preferred method of handling obstacles is to face them head-on.

Satan doing something stupid? Beat him up. Door blocking the way? Tear it off its hinges.

That said, Arle is quite flexible, able to work with rapidly-changing circumstances, plus she's good at imrovising solutions.

She also probably has plenty of survivalist skills. You don't survive 12+ years of dungeon crawling without having a good sense of knowing what will or won't kill you, and how to protect yourself from the latter.

(I hate that I have to say this, but that does include bathing. Not washing dungeon gunk off is how you get fun and exciting new diseases.)

Her spells reflect those priorities, as well. Most of her combat-oriented spells aren't for dealing direct damage, but for self-defense.

Even then, she's has a blasé attitude towards danger, and doesn't get threatened easily in the slightest.

This is a girl that got into multiple fights with an owlbear and won before she started kindergarten.

She's not reckless, however. She's very aware that she's not invincible or unstoppable, and has reliable risk assessment.

Tight situations where she's in more trouble than she was prepared for is where a lot of her improvisation skills shine.

Arle's really forgiving. She doesn't hold grudges or resentment, even if someone has reduced her to her last frazzled nerve.

Case in point, she became friends with a man that abducted her and subsequently tried to kill her. Despite his protests.

Her gregariousness tends to grow on people, making her pretty good at making friends (albeit not as good as Amitie).

However, her forgiving nature only extends to herself. Threaten or annoy her all you want, she'll let it slide. But if a friend of hers has a problem with you, so does Arle.

Arle has a very dry sense of humor. She can snark with the best of them.

She mostly employs sarcasm to tease her friends (mostly the ones from her world), but she'll use it in full force if something annoys her enough.

(These often overlap, especially when Satan's involved)

She also can and will verbally destroy you for your nonsense if pushed far enough.

While known to get annoyed, frustrated, or agitated, Arle very rarely (if ever) gets truly angry. I firmly believe attacking a friend with intent to seriously harm is one way to do it, however.

She tends to have more patience with anybody younger than her. Doubly so if she has reason to believe they're relying on her.

Arle is very stubborn. She dies hard and never gives up.

It also makes her strong-willed enough to resist possession. She's actually on the record for forcibly expelling Ecolo from her body by attacking herself.

Both the above tie into Arle's greatest fear: helplessness. She is terrified of being trapped in a situation where there is absolutely nothing she can do to affect it, even superficially.

Much like Ringo, I think Arle is, in theory, a perfectly capable cook. But unlike Ringo, where Arle goes off the deep end is her obsession with curry. She'd pretty much always prefer making that.

Although not a powerhouse, Arle isn't your typical squishy mage. She's fit and resilient enough to get by a lot of her situations. And she can throw a good punch if needed.

We don't see it very often anymore (which is a shame imo), but Arle is a capable staff wielder, and will use one as a magic focus if it's available.

I think Arle used to be more self-centered and interested in magic for her own gain, but changed after a certain incident while she was at magic school.

Because of the incident, she's decided that there is no knowledge, possession, or power that is more important than the lives of other people, especially those you care about.

That being said, she actually doesn't remember the incident very clearly.

Of note, even before this personal epiphany, Arle was against fighting lethally and made it a point to only leave those she fights unconscious. She's even begged her friends to not kill someone even if it would help her.

The epiphany is another reason why she's less materialistic, however.

Arle is a believer in the idea that it's the journey, not the destination, that matters. Several of her adventures end in disappointment or anti-climax, but she gets over it quickly.

No matter how an adventure ends, there's bound to be another one over the horizon.

Because of the above, and her aforementioned penchance for flexibility and adaptability, Arle doesn't let setbacks bother her. If she can stand back up, she can always keep going. And she will.

Although Arle isn't at all shy, she doesn't like to be made the center of attention or put on a pedastal. She's just a girl doing her thing, y'know? To her, that's not something she needs to be lauded for.

She's also doesn't really show signs of physical or romantic attraction of any kind. She can recognize a person as being handsome or beautiful, but only does so as a neutral descriptor.

Arle is the only one that can truly understand Carbuncle. She's fully fluent in gu, as well.

Somehow that lets her understand other mascot-like critters, on the rare occasions she comes across them.

[axolotlclown]

I watched Shubble's vod talking about abuse a few days ago and she said something that stuck with me. She told a story where her abuser bit her really hard in front of their friends. She yelped in pain and they laughed.

Men, when we see our friends make jokes about hurting women, don't laugh. Make it uncomfortable. It's not funny. This isn't a joke. You may not think your brothers and friends are abusers, but it doesn't mean that any of this is funny.

I'm certain their friends didn't think there was anything going on behind the scenes, but they should have. I could never even imagine joking about bringing harm to my partner. I'm sure most of them couldn't either. We need to stay vigilant and critical of the ways we carry ourselves around others. What does our laughter signal to the women around us?

My brothers, hurting women is not a joke. Don't laugh.

[turtleblogatlast]

“Haven’t You Noticed (I’m a Star)” from Steven Universe works so ridiculously well for Leo

[creekfiend]

I just really need ppl to integrate the fact that Jews being explicitly racialized and violently targeted for elimination under white supremacy is in fact the reason this is all happening to begin with so perhaps rhetoric which conflates is with the group of people who have been ethnically cleansing and genociding us for centuries is like, not the hottest thing to do idk

[yrlocalghost]

you know. i feel like chara is obviously a very complex character and has a lot of problems and a lot going on, but i always thought that the fact that the whole wanting to kill people from their village was like. not that bad. in and of itself.

[brick-van-dyke]

If there's one thing I've respectively noticed from Zionists and defenders of Israeli war crimes, it's that every source, argument and potential avenue to explore each explanation is riddled with cherry picking, moving the goalposts and mental gymnastics to explain why their conclusions, which typically are barely even related to the sources they use, somehow overshadow literal reality and what we see with our own eyes.

While scrolling, one example I came across was the repetitive misrepresentation of BLM, antifa and quotes from Martin Luther King Jr, as well as statistics, scholarly journal articles and government website information. These are all good sources, yet every single time they're mangled completely until the only possible "interpretation" of any of them is "well Israel is right to defend itself after shorting rockets beforehand because the retaliation was brutal and all Arabs are bad by default therefore". As if any of these sources are even about individual exceptions of Israel versus hatred towards Arabs.

I think what I find most absurd, as someone in the middle of their own studies, is how every bit of critical thinking and logic goes out the window as they do every single thing possible to do what professors worldwide say NOT to do when evaluating sources. It's like watching a race to see who can tangle and misconstrue scientific information to fit their world view the fastest. Then said people say "um actually I studied at university before so it's actually not wrong that I'm doing this exact this everyone is warned not to do because I have a permit". Ignorance I can forgive, but willful and arrogant manipulation? That's another thing entirely.

[abyssembraced]

What's Your Role in a Found Family Dynamic?

The Hermit Who Helps

At first, you were a resource for the established characters to turn to, but you quickly began to steal the show due to your personality, your usefulness, or your inherently interesting perspective on life. You were pretty much already able to provide for yourself, but the next thing you know, these people are growing on you. Instead of asking favors, it becomes an invitation to socialize. You find yourself sticking around for no apparent reason other than you like it here. The people are fun to watch, if nothing else, but ultimately they're just--oh no. Oh no, you care about them. You always thought you stayed away from this "relationship" stuff for a reason. It gets messy and isn't worth it unless it really works. For some reason, this group really works. These weirdos are now your weirdos, and if anything happens to them, there will be hell to pay. You were basically already looking after them before this, after all. Welcome to the family, hermit.

Tagged by: @distrxst (thank you!)

Tagging: @quillheel , @tazmilyxfamily (or your other blog!) , @bladesfromthedark , @pri-rp , @legalbrats (or your bug blog!) , @hopeful-hugz (or one of your other blogs!) , @musescfmusic (or one of your other blogs!) !

[princekirijo]

You know thinking about it Riku could also be a Lovers Arcana character. His story + arc very much revolves around his relationships with other characters (particularly his family and most importantly himself).

Captain is ultimately his arcana however because I feel like his stubbornness and his like willingness to keep going is what makes him a Chariot character (as Captain is an alternative to Chariot). He's also a very devoted/emotional character and I think that plays into it too!

[schoolhater]

answering a couple questions i got on this post since i realized ppl genuinely wanna know:

tl;dr:

israel lets very, very little aid get into gaza. even the UN can't get in as much as they want to. funding individual families, gazan led initiatives, and mutual aid collectives operating out of gaza ensures gazans can provide for themselves and pay for the extremely expensive aid that is available.

with all the civil infrastructure destroyed by israel, the situation on the ground has devolved into unrestricted capitalism, driving up the price of aid (that should be free!). this makes it more urgent for people to have funding for daily survival.

the post linked above has examples of how donating to individual families can help a lot. if you want to help more than one family at a time, there are many gazan-led initiatives focusing on rebuilding their infrastructure and distributing aid fairly that are worth donating to instead of large charities that already get the majority of donations.

as i mentioned in the last post: @/careforgaza on twitter is a nonprofit started by gazans, it's been endorsed by multiple palestinian journalists.

the sameer project is a collective organized by diaspora palestinians offering emergency shelter to gazans.

ele elna elak is a project aiming to bring water, food, shelter, etc. to gazans and has been promoted by bisan owda.

and the municipality of gaza itself is fundraising to rebuild water infrastructure.

all of these organizations are active inside gaza right now and are being run by gazans. if anyone knows of other gazan-led mutual aid projects, nonprofits or charities feel free to link them in the notes! hope this helped!

long answers under the cut!

if you wanna donate to a charity that's absolutely fine, but the thing is most charities (and even the UN!) are unable to make it into gaza in the first place, leaving aid rotting at the egyptian side of the border or subject to israeli settler attacks

not to mention, charities and nonprofits also maintain a paternalistic colonial relationship with the indigenous people they are trying to help, determining what aid they need for them instead of returning power to them and letting them make their own choices

i'm not here to say that one option is better than the other, just that they achieve different things and are equally legitimate. there's an attitude among people who question the legitimacy of these gofundme campaigns that somehow the people promoting them are telling them not to donate to charities. nobody is stopping you from donating to charities. we are just asking that you do not dehumanize the very real gazans in your inbox just because their method of asking for aid is more direct and risky.

unfortunately that's exactly what has happened. because israel destroyed all of gaza's more formalized infrastructure, it seems that organized crime and rampant inflation has taken its place. aid is supposed to be free, but in order to save for evacuation or the cost of living, people have started selling them at an inflated price. and aid that is truly free attracts intense, large crowds that are dangerous to navigate.

this was posted on abc a few days ago

it's pure, unrestrained capitalism. i've had multiple palestinians describe this situation to me confidence. that's why everything's so expensive now. why people have to rent out tiny plots of land for their tents to sit on, why my friend @siraj2024 still has to buy tarps to cover the broken windows of the overpriced bombed out apartment he rented, and why a bag of flour can cost a thousand bucks in the north.

even before israel closed and then bombed the rafah crossing, the egyptian hala travel agency was only allowing people to cross the border if they paid a hefty $5000 USD per adult / $2500 USD per child bribe. it denies doing this, but the hundreds of stories from palestinians say otherwise.

with regard to the economy, here in america we saw something similar happen in the wake of hurricane helene and milton. the podcaster margaret killjoy describes how she saw dual economies rise after asheville was fully cut off from the rest of the country - some people offered each other supplies for free in a sort of mutual aid honor system, and some people required payment when they lent supplies because they themselves needed to buy stuff for their families. these dual economies exist in gaza too. and this means they all still need money to survive.

[arovalentines]

but i'm not supposed to scratch

[omgthatdress]

Sooooo ummmmmmm this is something that's probably going to piss a lot of people off, but I feel like I really need to say it.

If you get a message from an account claiming to be a Palestinian fundraiser, it is a bot. It is a scam. You need to report & delete the message and encourage others to do the same.

I know because I get messages on this account DAILY. I have a very high follower count and I'm pretty active and I interact with my followers a lot, and apparently that all adds up to one big bot magnet.

Bots following and messaging this account was a MASSIVE problem before Tumblr fixed its new account policies. I used to spend literally hours blocking and reporting the hundreds of bots that I would get following me each day.

I learned a lot about bots and how to identify them. The easiest way is with no avatar, "untitled" in the blog description (BTW if your avatar is still set to default PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD change it because you run a substantial risk of being accidentally blocked & reported as a bot).

One of the dead give aways of a bot was what I call "word salad" names. Three seemingly random words strung together making no sense, always adjective, adjective or noun, noun. If you reported a lot of these bots, you'd notice the same words kept showing up.

Nowadays, I am bombarded with fundraiser requests and sometimes, they don't even bother to hide the fact that they're a bot. The avatar is default, the blog title is "untitled," and the blog name is a classic randomly-generated word salad.

However MOST of the requests I get come from at least semi-legit looking accounts. There are pictures, a name, a story. Never mind that I've gotten that message three times from different accounts.

Sometimes, they claim to be vetted, but the whole vetting system essentially adds up to "trust me bro." There is no way of guaranteeing that this account isn't just lying about being vetted, claiming to be vetted by a false person, or are using the identity of a real Palestinian to scam people.

Previously, I've seen a lot of people getting attacked for raising questions about these fundraisers and getting attacked for being racist or for harming Palestinian families in danger, like Tumblr isn't a website famous for its scams and the words "The Arkh Project" "All or Nothing" or "Miss Officer and Mr. Truffles" mean nothing to you.

I personally have been scammed by people claiming to be charities on Tumblr before, specifically, The Leelah Project which used the name of a trans teenager who died by suicide to swindle people out of their money.

Luckily, there are actual, respected charities out there you can give money to if you want to help the cause:

Palestinian Children's Relief Fund

Palestine Red Crescent Society

United Nations Relief Works Agency

Islamic Relief

World Central Kitchen

Médecins Sans Frontièrs

One of the hardest things to accept about the situation in Palestine is that realistically, there is very little that your average outsider can do to change it. However, these large, well-respected and trustworthy charities are out there doing the hard work to keep people alive, and should be where the donation money is going

These scam bots feed on people's naïvety and need to believe that they are making a difference, and even worse, feed on the fear that by ignoring them, it somehow makes you a racist doing direct harm to a refugee family, when in fact they are using the suffering of Palestinians to take away money from those in need.

As far as fundraisers that don't send out random asks for donations, I honestly don't know. You'll have to do the work yourself and approach with much caution.

Be careful out there.