#but my ex is actually demented

[your-local-mom-whore]

Can a girl just obsess and hyperfixate on her little fictional men in peace???

[mrdrhenwardhykle]

PLEASE ASK FOR PERMISSION AND CREDIT ME TO USE

[violation72089]

the finale of season 1 gave me genuine trauma. they dressed up Loki’s sad ending this time with season 2… so at least i can laugh it off now, right? right…? :’)

The Onion + Loki (12/?)

[xxblairexxss]

Jealousy (part 4)

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Angst / fluff

The end! Thank you for loving the short series. I think this might be my best one yet because I didn’t limit myself to include everything but it was longer than my usual ones. Apologies it long fics are not your thing!

Your week went by with no more phone calls. Charles didn’t ask for another chance to speak to you and you were so glad he didn’t because you weren’t sure if you were gonna find it appealing or irritating. Deep down, you knew there was still an enraged flame in your heart that you couldn’t ignore regardless of your feelings for him.

You stopped replying to his texts too but you still read it from the notifications bar. He would tell you about what he did on the day, would ask you if you had eaten, how was your day but none of his questions were answered. He went to Maranello right away and stayed there until the next race so you were glad you didn’t have to meet him.

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Charles was demented with worry. He knew he was hoping too much when you unblocked his number but he never thought you would stop replying to his texts. He didn’t know what you were up to and that made him agitated.

Y/F/N has added to their story

You hadn’t unblock him on his Instagram but he would still be able to see your friend’s. He saw pictures of you on your friend’s Instagram story, all smiles and grinning ear to ear. He missed you a lot. He would stare at his phone every night before he went to sleep, anticipating your name popping up in his notification or phone call but none of it actually came. He was disappointed, of course, but he knew he deserved this.

But he still hadn’t lose you, had he?

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You had declined Charles’s offer to join him on his private flight to Mexico because you still had things to do at work on Friday so you had to miss practice rounds. You even forced Y/F/N to come with you so you wouldn’t be left alone with Charles because you didn’t know how to act and what to say around him. As if he wasn’t your boyfriend for 2 years.

“Please come with me! Please please please!”

Y/F/N rolled her eyes and shook her head, turning her back on you to which earned her a pillow threw at her head. “No, thank you. Hey!” She then sat up and threw it back at you and chortled at the face you made.

“I need you there! I can’t be with him alone!”

“He was your boyfriend for 2 years. Why are you acting as if you haven’t done anything nasty with him.” You stopped peeking inside your closet and glared at her.

“That was so unrelated.”

“You get what I mean! If you don’t want to be left alone then just ignore him! Plus, he’s gonna be so busy he won’t have time to chase after you.” Y/F/N shook her head at the navy top you showed her and you placed it back into the rows of clothes.

“I know but he even asked me to go to the after party. You know what happened the last time I went to a social event.” You picked another top and earned a yes from Y/F/N so you folded it into your small luggage.

“There’s a party?” You heard her sounded intrigued. You should have known this better. She would never say no to parties. The conversations could have been a plain sailing one if only you mentioned this topic first.

“Yeah. There’ll be hot guys everywhere. It’s a shame you couldn’t come.” You packed another pair of pants and saw in the corner of your eyes Y/F/N scrammed away, leaving the room.

“Wait for me!”

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You arrived at the hotel early in the morning and Charles had arranged everything. Y/F/N was passed out as soon as you guys checked in while you immediately gotten ready to go to the paddock before the qualifying round started.

Once you arrived, there were still a lot of people waiting at the entrance meanwhile the paddock was already packed with a few interviews being done at every spots. You only took a few steps when you heard your phone rang.

“Hi.”

You looked up from your phone and saw your boyfriend, or ex boyfriend, whichever you preferred walking towards you and you hated yourself for feeling this way. You felt like a kid who bumped into their crush at a school hallway. That silly, giddy with excitement as if it was your first time meeting him. Your heart was throbbing so loud that if he told you he could hear your heartbeat, you would have believed him right away. The butterflies in your stomach went wild and it made your knees weak. You smiled back at him and he took your hand in his, clasping it as he turned and walked back to the entrance. The sound of the fans around the paddock area screaming his name turned into a mumble as you kept your eyes on his back.

You were so glad you didn’t get to see and talk to him that much throughout the rest of the qualifying round. You didn’t even stay until the end though he offered you a ride back to the hotel.

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“How was it?”

“It was okay?”

Y/F/N mocked your face and you squinted your eyes at her. “What?”

“Tell me more! Did he say anything? Did he hug you? Tried to kiss you maybe?”

“No! He just held my hand. It’s not like he had any free time to even talk about us.” You took off your earrings and tied your hair in a bun.

“Such an asshole, isn’t he? When is he gonna apologise? Is he even gonna say sorry? Does he know how to say sorry?” You heard her blabbered with a mouth full of chips.

“We are not talking about this anymore. I’m gonna take a bath.”

As you started shampooing your roots, you heard the doorbell ring and thought it was just another room service that your best friend might had ordered.

“Hi, can I talk to Y/N?”

“She’s busy. We’re busy.” Y/F/N looked at the guy up and down and was going to close the door on him when he propelled it back.

“Wait! Please, I just want to give her something.”

Y/F/N stretched her arm forward and Charles blinked in confusion. “Give it to me. I’ll pass it to her.”

“Can I see her instead?”

“No. Either you pass it to me to you can go back to your room.” She replied sternly to which made him obediently handed the paper bags to her and walked away.

“Look,” Charles stopped in his trail when he heard her broke the silence.

“I’m not mad at you. Wait, I am mad at you. I’m pissed off, actually. But as much as I want her to leave your ass, she still loves you and I think that’s more than enough confirmation you need. I’ll give you a space to talk to her tomorrow so do whatever you need to do.” Charles was going to say something but the door slammed on his face faster than he could even blink.

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“Who was that? Did you order room service?” You walked out the bathroom in robes with wet hair, gasping when you saw boxes of pizza and doughnuts on the coffee table. “This is a lot! When did you buy them? Oh, this is my favourite!”

“I didn’t. The delivery guy came all the way to our room to deliver these.” You saw the displeased face on her and frowned in confusion.

“He also left you that. I don’t know what you told him but you could open a Dior pop-up shop with those stuffs.”

You looked to the side and saw a Dior paper bag full of different shades of the new lip gloss. It was the one you briefly mentioned in your last phone call with him. There was also a small note written on it. “I might forgot or had missed you said your favourite shade during our last call so I got them all. And I don’t think you have eaten anything after the qualifying round today so enjoy the food.”

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The race ended with Charles getting P3, letting him to get the podium spot again after missing it a few races. Y/F/N has asked you to head back early because she needed hours to make sure she looked hot to flirt all the guys at the afterparty. It always made you wonder how both of you ended up being best friends even with all those contrasts in your personalities.

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You arrived with Y/F/N a few minutes late so it was already crowded with people. As much as it made you feel nervous, Y/F/N was thrilled.

“You look beautiful, angel.”

“Oh?” You turned around and was greeted with Charles, hands in his pocket, a few steps away from you. You opened your mouth to reply to the compliment, but Y/F/N cut you off.

“Right? Too beautiful to be treated like a shit.”

You nudged her on her waist and glowered. “Okay, this is not the time!”

“I’m off! Charles, she’s yours.” Y/F/N fixed your hair before leaving both of you, too fast that you couldn’t even catch her arm to force her to stay with you.

“Thank you..” You awkwardly smiled, your hands were clasp together, trying not to look at his green eyes that much.

“Thank you?”

“For yesterday. You really didn’t have to, but , thank you.”

“Oh, it’s nothing compared to what you actually deserved. Anyway, do you want to—“ Charles turned around and saw one of his friends calling out to him. You looked at the source of the voice and saw his group of friends standing at the end of the room.

“You should go with them.”

“No, come with me.” He was going to seize your hand when you stepped back in defence.

“It’s fine, I’ll be somewhere else.”

“Y/F/N will kill me if she finds you alone. I know you hate me and you don’t want to be left alone with me but stay with me this time. Please?”

You felt his hand gently taking yours in his as he looked into your eyes, as if he was asking for consent and you gave in. Sure, you despised him a lot but the moment he held your hand, feeling his thumb stroking your knuckles, it reminded you that he had always been your solace in life. It took everything in you to not embrace him right there and then.

He introduced you to the rest of the groups and immediately engaged in a full conversations. His hand never left yours. You were just standing by his side, playing around with your heels when you were greeted with Y/F/N and a few people with her. She would always brought her group of friends with you at any party just to introduce you, her best friends with her new friends. Charles turned around when he felt you accidentally tugged on his hand.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You were so glad for Y/F/N and was simply amazed with her social skills. Though you had a hard time engaging in a conversation and preferred to just listened, she kept on pulling you into the conversation by constantly asking you series of questions.

“That’s the worse. Right, Y/N?”

“Isn’t Y/N so pretty? I did her hair.”

“Y/N is very good at mix and match her clothes. Right, Y/N? But she still needed my help.”

Throughout the conversations, Charles still kept your hand in his but then it got uncomfortable when your hand started sweating so you ended up holding his pinky finger, occasionally fiddled with his fingers since you didn’t have your ring on. You thought he would pull away but he didn’t. He didn’t even budge.

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“Do you wanna go back to the hotel?”

“Can we?”

“Of course, angel. Let’s go.”

Charles had took you back to the hotel but it was only when you had arrived in front of your room when you realised you didn’t have your access card with you. He had asked you to stay in his room first until Y/F/N called.

It had been a while since the last time you were with him in a small space. As soon as you walked in, you were greeted with his smell, the mixture of scent between the different collection of his perfumes, the smell of his shower gels it was all too overwhelming it made your eyes teared up instantly.

“Sit down, silly. Why are you standing?”

You let out a sob, looking down and he stoop down to look at your face, sounding all worried and anxious. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Y/N?”

You continued to sob uncontrollably and he enfolded you in his arms, one hand around the back of your head and another one wrapped on your waist. “It’s okay, angel. I got you.”

“I hate you.”

His arms around your figure tighten when your body shook and he planted a kiss on the side of your head. “It’s okay, I hate myself too.”

“But I miss you so much, I miss your touch, your kiss, your voice, everything about you. I tried so hard to ignore you because maybe it would be easier for me to end everything, to end us but it was so hard.” The silent tears kept on running down your cheeks that you were so sure his shirt was already soaked.

Charles’s blood ran cold when you mentioned about ending things. Both of you had always been so optimistic with the relationship. You would always talked about how you would grow old together and he would have to assure you that he would always find you beautiful or you would have sulk.

He pulled away and crouched down to hold your cheeks in his hands and level his eyes with yours. “No, please, no. Please don’t leave me. Please, angel. I know I fucked up but give me another chance to be better. To fix this. I know it makes me selfish but I can’t see you with anyone else. Please.”

You didn’t reply but kept on wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, harshly, because of how frustrating everything was.

“I’ll kneel down if you want. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. I can’t lose you. I really, really can’t.” His eyes were red from holding his tears and it smashed your heart. He looked so broken with compunction it made you cry even more.

“I’m sorry for what I did. I should have listened to you. I just got so mad when I saw you with other guys when I should have known better. I was too blinded with jealousy.” He took a shaky breath and wrapped you back in his arms so you wouldn’t see him cry.

“And when I saw what happened to you that night, I was just so furious at myself for being so stupid and allowing that to happen to you so I just blew up at you when all you needed was just my commiseration and assurance.” He left a few lingering kisses to the crown of your head and mumbled against your hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, angel.”

“Do you miss me?”

You felt his chest quivered as he tittered to your silly question. Had you got a glimpse of his life during the absence of you, you would have seen how miserable he actually was. “I don’t think the words I miss you is enough to express how much I long for you.”

You were no longer hugging his middle but your body was flushed against him as you stroke his cheek, feeling it damp from the tears that he tried to hide from you.

His arms left your waist briefly as he unhooked the necklace around his neck, pulling the end of it so the ring would slip out into his palm. “Do you… accept my apology?”

“I’ll think about it.” You giggled when he looked taken aback. “You are forgiven, Charles.”

“Can I put this back on you?” He looked nervous, as if he was going through every words he was about to say, too scared if you would slip off his fingers again.

“Are you proposing to me?”

“Not yet but I will. Mark my words.” He slid the ring back into your ring finger and lifted your hand to peck on it. Your arms circled around his neck as he locked you in his embrace. Your face was just an inch away from him that your nose would collide into his every time you moved your head a little. “I love you, Y/N.”

“And I love you more, Charles.” He dipped his head down and pressed his lips to yours, his arms cinching you to him as you kissed him back, your hands feeling the silken strands of his hair against your fingers.

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“Hello?” Charles squinted his eyes and put the phone to his ear, slightly whispering to not wake up the sleeping beauty in his arms.

“Charles? Do you happened to know where Y/N is? I just realised she’s not in the room.”

He laid his head back on the pillow and yawned. “Go to sleep, Y/F/N.”

“Where’s Y/N, you dick!”

“My girlfriend’s here with me. All safe and sound. You don’t have to worry.” His hand ran up and down against your back,when he felt you stirred on his chest.

“Oh, okay. I thought she was kidnapped or something. Break her heart again and I’ll make sure you won’t get any podium in your entire career. I mean it.”

You tilted your head a little to look at him, your eyes barely open. “Who was it?”

“It was just your guardian angel making sure I don’t fuck things up again. Let’s go back to sleep, baby.”

✧.* tags! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @buendiabebeta @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @ironmaiden1313 @teenagedreams-cl @sheslikeacurse @love4lando @charli123456789 @ru-kru @httpspedri26 @honey6578 @sealsu @shyartisanvoidwagon @changetyre @aundercover

Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added in the tag list!

[mynameisjag]

Because I gotta.

Give me the feral man, give me the beastie who has probably been avoiding human contact as much as possible except to get drunk off his ass. This man has no idea of his own universe's tech, you think he has a chance understanding the one he has been kidnapped into? No. Bastard stinky man, feral, sad looking fucker…I adore him.

He needs to be more animalistic.

One would think by now, Wade would have experienced and seen what the multiverse had to offer.

Working with people over seeing different timelines did that.

So did being aware of the ‘audience’ and their many eyes.

Still, watching an almost naked knockoff werewolf scuttled across the room on all fours with what appeared to be a bloody carcass of some kind of animal in his mouth while growling like a demented cat, it was surprising.

“Well, chat, can I ask, what is this r rated looney tunes bullshit? Hey, Tasmanian Devil’s estranged cousin, you better be cleaning this up soon! We just got these floors!”

And Logan was already in the bedroom with his catch, probably hunkered down in his hammock and going to town some poor innocent creature’s remains.

“Whatever, I do cocaine, I have no room to judge.”

Sure enough, stepping over the trail of blood and pushing the door open revealed what he already expected to find. The crunch of bones and squelching of raw meat being chewed on, blown out brown eyes were glaring at him and a gutteral snarl giving warning.

“Easy there, boy, just checking up on ya, seems you brought home dinner for yourself tonight, didn’t even get me anything?”

The snarling stopped and the bloody remains were held out to him, the little head tilt would be cute if not for the smear of gore across his concerned face.

Actually it was still cute.

“Awe, thank you! But I’m good…and he’s going back to eating that, well…I’m going to go throw up now and contemplate the merits of becoming a vegetarian…so…how about a time skip for everyone's sake?”

With a time skip activated, cleaned floors appearing and a still half naked Logan chilling on the couch scratching Mary Puppins behind the ears as she chewed on bone with drool going everywhere.

Some of that drool might be Wade’s but who could blame him, but he had to pull himself together and not be distracted by the feast for the eyes and focus on the feast of the flesh that happened in the bedroom and not the fun type.

“Hey, honey, can we take a minute away from the,” he glanced at the show, “huh, didn’t think that was still going…no, focus Wade…right, Logan, my little murder puppy…the fuck did I just witness?”

“Got hungry, went hunting, ate.”

“Right, and the, not that I’m complaining about the view because I should be taking pictures, but why were you half dressed on all fours, should I be concerned?”

“Easier to hunt…comfortable…”

“Alright…”

Okay, let’s give the big guy a moment…

Shrugging before plopping down nearly on top of the man, Wade just grinned at the sharp look sent his way as Dogpool jumped down and carried her prize off somewhere.

It took two episodes in before Logan huffed, voice barely audible over the TV as he finally spoke.

“…people hated me back home…when they hate you…you tend to be unwelcomed in most if not every place…hotels…bars…stores…”, bare hands were flexing, dark fingernails just slightly pointed and severely cracked, “you get used to the surviving…you get used to avoiding those places…”

Wade reached over to grab one of the hands, flipping it over to trace a pattern in the rough palm, “but they don’t hate you here? You can go in and if they try to stop you or have anything to say about it…then they won’t have a choice in the matter after I visit them.”

The smirk he sent to the ex X-man, wasn’t that a strange combination of words, was met with huff.

“…it’s the crowd of people, the smells, the sounds…it brings back the memories…but staying inside is like a slow torture…hunting and losing myself made it easier to cope.”

“Trust me, if anyone knows anything of trying to make yourself disappear using whatever is available for just a moment of not having to think of what kind of shit haunts you…its me…”

“Hmm…”

“So if being the feral little man you are makes you feel better, just little heads up next time, your hammock is still dripping blood on our new floors.”

[queenlua]

okay let's make tibarn/naesala happen

let's enumerate every possible way to make them work. for funsies. because i am normal and have normal 3am hobbies:

option 1: reyson and leanne both die tragically somehow; tibarn and naesala have weird sex about it

pros: ngl this is my Default Option for like 80% of my ships for a reason. it's just fundamentally neat when ppl are sad about their dead former lover and think about them constantly even whilst they are flinging themselves into the arms of a new one. if you can get TWO people doing that simultaneously? with each other?? hell yes

cons: honestly...,,, both of these boys seem enormously terrible at providing anything remotely resembling comfort. like, i feel like they try to have weird angsting-over-reyson-and-leanne sex, but then they just have normal-ish, boring, wham-bam-thank-you-m'am, vaguely-unsatisfying sex, so then you're not even getting Demented Catharsis out of it, and then WHAT IS THE POINT. like have you ever known a dude who takes up jogging to try and get over his ex? and then he quits after a couple weeks when he remembers Wait Cardio Is Boring As Fuck? it's like that. i think they try it for a bit and it's blah and all purely physical and then they're done. i'm just not quite seeing it here!

option 2: naesala's the weird skrunky sometimes-third-wheel sometimes-third-partner to reyson/tibarn

pros: i think this meshes best with all their personalities as presented in canon. tibarn & reyson keep letting naesala off easy because, y'know, he's more useful to keep around and guilt-trippable, but also because he's pretty fun to drag into bed sometimes, right

cons: this is avoiding the tricky bit, right? i specifically said naesala/tibarn because i want to figure out how to emulsify these oil-n-water bitches together. if you let reyson be the glue between them, you're taking the easymode way out!

option 3: do you think love can bloom even on a battlefield

(aka, naesala and tibarn both murder the hell out of some senator who dicked both of them over, and they look into each other's eyes and realize that despite all their differences they do both find Murderous Justice very hot, deep down. and maybe also each other? like it's hot that this guy also Gets It right)

pros: ok, come to think of it, you could make this one really funny. like, suppose Reyson's been kidnapped or something, right, and Tibarn's like I Will Do Anything (Even Ally With Naesala) To Get Him Back

and so Tibarn fights Through Hell And High Water to rescue his twinky boyfriend

and they SUCCEED, and Reyson's super-unconscious but safe, and in that moment he looks into Naesala's eyes and... they get supremely frisky, and it feels incredible and right in the moment but boy that's gonna be awkward the second Reyson actually wakes up lmao

cons: dissolves the second reyson wakes up, alas. like the Weirdness hangs around after, that's still fun, but.

option 4: naesala has a little bit too much fun being the powerful one for a change

i'm pretty sure naesala would Literally Die rather than ask tibarn for help, ever. but tibarn? tibarn might in fact get desperate enough to call on naesala for help. you could probably spin some toxic yaoi out from there, right. tibarn very much trying to hold onto a sense of self and telling himself he's just doing this for instrumental reasons, but also having his sense of self lowkey fucked up by having to play second fiddle to naesala. naesala very much enjoying stringing this guy along. that kind of deal

pros: wasn't thorki big for a while or something. i feel like we get thorki vibes out of this. can i steal some MCU ppl away to spur on a Second Great Awakening Of Tellius...

cons: this would require me to have a good Theory Of Mind for Tibarn in particular, which i do not, alas!

anyway god i should get some sleep. further options welcome

[cinamun]

I think the people who think Bishop may care in a sick, demented way and people that think he’s doing this for his benefit…. are both right.

Lemme explain, y’all and don’t jump me! But I do think he does care. A lot of abusers (speaking from personal experience, my ex made me a victim of DV) care about their victims. The problem is That’s often why they seek out controlling and hurting the ones they love. They may love them, but they either don’t have the tools to love someone and treat em right, or they just don’t want to.

When Mercy held that knife to Bishop’s neck, I don’t think he was jus saying shit to say shit. He’s right, he was behind bars for 30 years and being controlled by others. Ion know much about his childhood or pre prison, but even just those thirty years should be enough to truly fucking rewire this guys brain. Control and Bishop go hand in hand, and there could be a deep, innate fear in him that if he doesn’t control - he gets controlled. Especially present in high emotional situations, such as finding a woman and possibly caring/having emotions towards her. Now I can’t say I like Bishop, I kinda wish Mercy cut his ass up when she had the chance - I just don’t know if I think he’s nothing but a stone cold psychopath, partly because of your tendency to very detailed, very nuanced takes on the human psyche, and partly because Most abusers are not jus….joe goldbergs or ted bundys.

I really am curious about Bishop’s childhood in more detail, and why he became this way - I think we need to be open to the fact that prison really did a number on this guy, y’all. That nonny that focused on the fact Bishop is the only one checking on this woman, making sure she eat, that’s true! Some of those behaviors could absolutely be this guy just tryna cover his tracks, but some of them are also….Ion know. I know someone said he may be covering his tracks because Jace know he’s at least abusive mentally, but I gotta point out this man successfully faked his own death and LITERALLY has a lair, y’all. This man would know better. I wonder if he ain’t leaving Mercy to die because he, himself, does not want her dead.

I think this is way more nuanced than just Bishop doing one or the other. I think the two sides have merged together to create the actions we see now, and I can’t wait to see where it goes further. I think he cares for Mercy, and that may be what’s actually triggering him to need to control her this badly. Either he’s scared of being controlled by her somehow, controlled by his emotions or… maybe he’s just fucking scared of losing the woman and it’s easier to control her than face the emotional worth he’s placed in her. It’s perfectly possible he cares for her in a sick, demented way (or at least shows it that way) AND calculates the risk and benefits of certain actions in terms of covering his own back. And PSA: even if prison reworked this man’s damn brain or whatever the case may be, it doesn’t make his actions any more forgivable - it does open the door to rehabilitation one day….possibly. Chile… anyways.

OOOHH WEEEE!!! Class has been in SESSION on this Holy Easter and Trans Visibility Day chile!!

[hallowgracie]

Origin of "Liberation of an Ex-Magical Girl"

Author's Note: The Liberation of an Ex-Magical Girl started as a short story opening assignment in my creative writing classes. Like the other creative writing projects that grew beyond their original parameters, the novella in the works is almost completely different from this original concept.

Still, I think it's been fun to share them, and these do establish some of the themes and ideas I intend to explore in the actual novella, and are ultimately the core of the project. I hope you enjoy this insight into the origins of one of my wips.

...

No one ever tells you what happens next, when you defeat the Big Evil. Everyone has opinions up to that point, and no problems telling you what they think you should be doing. But once the deed is done, the sword plunged through the heart and the world free of some meglomaniac in a cape? That’s when the quiet comes in.

It first came with her last breath, when she went still under the holy blade. My ears rang, and I couldn’t even hear my own heartbeat. It came with the end of spells ricocheting off of the lair’s walls, the breaking of glass and the crackling of fire. Even the screams in the city stopped, with the final wave of my wand.

Even he was quiet, I realized as I’d turned my back to what I’d done, to the broken skyscraper window over the city I’d saved. My knight in shining armor, my one true companion in this, the one who always had some terrible joke or witty passive-aggressive comment to keep us from really thinking about what we were doing—he was silent.

He just stood there like that, looking at me.

I looked down at myself—the mythic incarnation of evil or whatever didn’t leave any blood stains on my gloves or glittery magical girl gown. But I couldn’t shake the feeling, the illusion of it being there all the same.

I should have said something then. Some cheesy line, like we were in a kids’ cartoon or a Disney movie or my favorite manga.

“It’s done, it’s over. We did it, my love—let’s go home.”

But I was never the smooth-talker, the speech-giver. Unfortunately, he was. And even he was at a loss for words.

Well, I’d never been the protagonist-y type, and I wasn’t going to start then.

So I just kicked the ground and said, “I guess that’s it, then.”

Before he could say anything, I waved my wand. In a shower of pink petals and a tween girl’s idea of the best perfume, I was back in my own apartment.

And the quiet washed over me again, leaving me with only my own thoughts and that steady, faithful heartbeat.

The morning after I’d completed the mission I’d sacrificed my teen and tween years for, I decided to get a scrapbooking kit. 

...

The decision was made at 4 AM, when I’d finally had enough. I knew then that I wasn’t going to get any sleep, and this couldn’t happen again. So I did the only thing I could—I got up and started my morning routine to bide my time until the craft store two stops from the apartment opened for the day. 

I started with brewing a pot of extra-strong coffee. I made sure there was enough for my roommate—it would only be a few hours before Gwen would be up for her 8 AM class. Then it was time to hit the shower. I winced as I felt the hot water hit the parts of my body stained black and blue, hissing when it rushed over the cuts. I’d never gotten entirely used to it, after so many mornings of the same. I dabbled concealer over my under eye-bags and scar with all the artistry that eight years of practice provided.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom, Gwen was waiting for me. 

“What are you doing up so early?” She demanded, a mug of pitch-black coffee in her hand. 

“I’m taking the T down to the craft store.” I shrugged. “It opens at like, six, right?”

Her eyebrows shot into her bangs. “You’ve finally lost it. You’re crazy, you know that?”

“You’ve been saying that ever since I moved in.”

“Yeah, because you talk to yourself in squeaky voices, it’s demented,” she shot back. 

I winced. “I didn’t know you could hear that.”

“Obviously.” She sipped her coffee. “How do you do that, by the way? That voice is super grating.”

I couldn’t help it—I snorted. I’d long thought that Dwija’s voice was annoying. Or at least, ever since I passed puberty. 

“I don’t know.” I shrugged again. “It’s a talent, I guess.”

“It’s something,” Gwen muttered. “Well, wait for me, then.”

“Huh?” I adjusted a barrette in my hair, as it had been slowly sliding out over the course of our brief conversation. 

“Well, I’m not letting you go out like this alone,” she huffed. “After all, what if you snap and lose it on the T?”

It was my turn for raised eyebrows. “Talking to myself in silly voices and morning crafting impulses does not a serial killer make.”

“Whatever, just stay there until I’m at least decent enough for the T.” Gwen waved her miraculously already-empty coffee cup at me. 

“Okay.” I’d long learned not to fight my roommate on certain things. 

It somehow surprised me to see the sun still rose when we left the underground station. First, because I didn’t realize it was already doing it this early again. But also because it felt too normal, after all that had happened the night before. 

It shouldn’t have surprised me, that the world would go on turning like nothing ever happened. As far as anyone was concerned, nothing ever happened when it came to the magical girl. Lumina was a curiosity, a source of excitement, a local celebrity who rode on parade floats during St. Patrick’s Day. But everyone was careful to treat her as never truly real. That way, the threats she faced weren’t either. 

Because that would mean opening your mind up to a host of phenomena beyond heaven or earth, or whatever it was that Hamlet said to Horatio.

Which leads me back to scrapbooking. 

“I still don’t understand.” Gwen tilted her head as she followed me down the scrapbooking aisle. “What made you decide at four in the morning that you wanted to take up scrapbooking, of all things?”

I shrugged and filled my basket with scrapbook papers, stickers, and textured ribbons. “I just felt like doing something new.”

“But you’re always so busy!” She followed me to the end-cap, where discounted scrapbooks lay in a hastily-thrown together heap. “You never had time for anything but studying!”

I just scooped up a book and headed toward the cash register. “I’ve got some free time now. Might as well keep my mind occupied.”

It was better than facing the silence. 

Yet it was in silence that the cashier scanned the items. It wasn’t until we were walking out of the craft shop that Gwen spoke again.

“You’re going out with me on Friday night.” There was no room for argument. 

I still was going to try, until I was interrupted by the chime of my phone. Not the iPhone in my right pocket. 

“Go on ahead, I have to take this.”

She gave me a funny look, but continued down underground, apparently satisfied that I was only partially out of my mind. I waited until she was gone. Then I removed from my left pocket the pink shell of a cellphone from a prior era. 

It was a rounded device with bright buttons and glitter inlaid in the surface, the smaller screen like an obsidian mirror. It made chiming, musical noises that brought on a sense of nostalgia and alienness at the same time. I knew it wasn’t really a cellphone, but rather the gadget of the realm parallel our own, the main tool of Lumina. 

Iridescent runes appeared across the black mirror screen. 

My stomach sank. I knew the name, even if I’d never come to understand their language. 

Altalune.

I knew what he wanted. A part of me wanted to reach out, to hear his voice again, because I wanted it too. But that would be a moment of weakness. One that I couldn’t afford, and I was now realizing I never would. I slipped it back in my pocket. 

Sorry. 

...

The possibilities of the evening stretched endlessly before me. I was twelve years old, the last time I had freedom like this. No responsibilities, no immediate homework, no need to remove the cellphone from my left pocket and transform into the champion of the Lost Realm, the imitation of a warrior princess of long ago. 

Instead of high heels and a fluffy dress, it was booty shorts and flip-flops for me. My scrapbook lay open on the desktop, all my newfound supplies scattered around so I could see them. The sky was the limit, and my blood hummed at the idea of creating something. 

It would be an awesome scrapbook, a work of art as an autobiography. 

Now all I had to do was make it. 

Well, to start it off, I’d need to ask Mom for the hospital photos and a picture of the old little house where the first formative years of my childhood were spent. Then there would be elementary school pictures from Field Day and pool parties and the Natural Science Museum field trips. 

But what about after that?

There were less photographs of me at my parents’ house around middle school. Beyond a few sleepovers and vacations and every year’s school picture, there was little to have documented. I didn’t have time for clubs, or birthday parties. My friendships never lasted long, always cut off in fear of them discovering my secrets, getting too close. 

It was around high school when only the yearbook photos were left, when I pushed my parents away too. 

There were plenty of pictures of Lumina over the years. 

But this wasn’t about her. Or at least, I didn’t want it to be. But she had taken over my life, I was realizing as I stared down the blank pages. She’d come into my life and stolen several years, and for what? 

To avenge a kingdom I never knew? For the defeat of a primeval evil that still wouldn’t stop simple human greed and malice? 

How much of my life have I wasted?

Before I could have my mental breakdown in peace, a light pierced the warm darkness of my room, scattering sparks of glitter all over the paper. As the light faded, the shape of a rounded cat-like creature floated over my desk.

  I scowled and crossed my arms over my chest. “What do you want, Dwija?”

“Oh, don’t be like that!” I couldn’t help but wince as her high-pitched, tinny voice. “Dwija just wants to make sure you’re alright!”

I sighed. Getting mad at the little cat fey from the Lost Realm was like getting mad at a child. For all that she might be the reason I was in this mess, and how she’d conveniently left out a lot of things over the years, she was extremely sensitive. And she meant well. That still counted for something, even after all this time. 

“I’m as okay as I can be.” I pulled out the cellphone. “Are you back here looking for this?”

Dwija blinked at me, her eyes as big and shiny as a new Beanie Baby’s. “Dwija meant what Dwija said all those years ago. You used to be Princess Lumina, back in the Lost Realm. It belongs to you, even after the mission is done.”

“Fine.” I tossed it onto my desk—I didn’t care if it broke now. 

Dwija winced, even though it was fine. That thing had survived falling to the street at a height that would kill a person and then getting run over by a bus. A little tossing and throwing wasn’t going to be what did it in. 

“You’re not okay, are you?”

“No shit, Sherlock.” I closed my eyes and forced myself to exhale. “Sorry. But really, what was your first clue?”

Dwija tilted her head. “Dwija didn’t mean to make you angry. Dwija thought you would be really happy now! Delmore is defeated and the evil from the Lost Realm has been destroyed, meaning she has no hold over this world anymore.”

“The Lost Realm is still destroyed,” I reminded her. “Or at least, that’s what you told me. And it’s not like I can remember being Princess Lumina anyway. So who cares?”

“But Delmore was affecting your realm, forcing men to do bad things!” Dwija’s voice inched up an octave. “Don’t you care about that? Don’t you care that she was going to destroy this realm too?”

My stomach squirmed. “I guess I do. You didn’t tell me it would only end with me killing her, though.”

“Dwija doesn’t think of it as killing a person,” Dwija said. “Delmore wasn’t really a person, she was the incarnation of all the evil in peoples’s hearts in the Lost Realm. She was never really alive and you shouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“That’s the thing.” I was surprised at how soft and hoarse my own voice was. “She was still a person, on some level. And I wanted to stop her—but I never wanted to kill her. I never would have agreed to it, if that was the end.”

“Then Dwija is glad that Dwija never explained it.” Dwija’s tail flicked. It started to swish, casting magenta glitter all over my desk. “You had to do it to save this world and many others. Dwija is sorry that no one from the Old World will be able to remember it. But you can still have lots of fun and adventures now!”

She shifted position midair and took on a less chiding tone. “Besides, Dwija would have thought that you would be looking forward to seeing Altalune now.”

[exoticalmonde]

Two dogs with barely any HP harassing top RI operators while they can do nothing but heal themselves: 🤭

Everybody else on the map: 😔 "Too bad we can't go up there."

EX-8 experience is not that bad I mean the RNG that decides whether or not Ya summons dogs or defenders said that every second one should be a defender is a little loco but...

Hey, look out of 27 we have 22, 11 enemies left.

26/27! 8 enemies left!!

27/27, that means 2 enemies are left.

Saria: "Uh, Doctor, it doesn't add up like th-"

Me, the saddest creature you've ever seen slowly turning in her direction: "It doesn't... It never does... It just keeps going. It adds up. It adds up... It adds up hehehehahahahaahah......."

*Lumen puts a blanket over my shoulders and slowly takes me away like a demented old woman.*

Actually, forget that, I wish the funny little gray matter that would be helping with my thought processing didnt look like gum scraped off the bottom of a highschool chair now but instead not only did I spent way too much time and energy into finishing and fine-turning EX-6 CM I just didnt have enough sanity to keep trying EX-8 CM at all.

Dr. Pinkie left the conversation like a wrung out rag, Dr. Kryo finds me pitiful and Dr. Lundi has the best Mlynar in the West and a Ling/Poz, I hope she succeeds soon because time is ticking.

As for me, it's an endless cycle of failure after failure and wondering where did it go wrong. I don't remember which event it was but it also had a -1 condition to its challenge mode and I cried actual tears trying to figure out and time it.

I WILL get these medals or so god help me.

But hey, Chongyue, your payment check for becoming a lead operator and tactical adviser is almost available.

How do you feel about it?

Yeah, I know I'm your life's failure but I'm also your wife failure. That's a win however you look at it.

[insidethekaleidoscope]

Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

💖 What made you start writing?

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists? Oh man, I don't think I've ever published anything I'm embarrassed of. That said, I always look at older writing and see things that I would change. When I first started writing L&C I actually started writing a whole canon divergent au where Lucy sees Jessica's ghost and then her and George decide to wait to tell Lockwood until they've had a chance to investigate (and there was this whole plot where I basically put Rotwell's Aldbury Castle experiment in Marylebone). Reading back through it, the characterizations feel very off, so I guess I'm enough embarrassed of it that it's never gonna get published...

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh? From What Isn't Broken

The ghost was more odd than intimidating: a spindly old man who followed them around and kept bellowing ‘quarter turn to the left’ every few minutes broken up occasionally by an indignant ‘up yours!’. Lucy had spent a good chunk of time trying to discern a pattern, and just ended up feeling like she was playing a Dadaist version of hot and cold. 

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride? Hmmm... I think actually Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. It's the shortest of my fics, but there's quite a lot that happens in it, and it's a bit non-chronological, so it's pretty fast paced and the emotional impact to word count ratio is high.

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately? Often I don't actually. Sometimes I find it distracting. But I've done quite a bit of writing listening to the Sing the Delta album by Iris Dement.

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write? Ummm... well my brain prefers to write in the middle of the night... I would prefer if that were not the case

💖 What made you start writing? Initially compulsion. But generally I just find it satisfying.

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success? I mean I do get a lot of satisfaction just from the feeling that I've been able to capture some idea or feeling in a way that is compelling to me. But also the communication part of writing is still important (otherwise I wouldn't be publishing things...) so getting comments where it's clear that I've communicated what I set out to completely make my day.

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to? Grief, the mutability of memories, objects as vessels for memories, characters struggling with emotional vulnerability...

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)? I have a hard time with writing a compelling mystery. I have a hard time with anything that takes a lot of meticulous plotting

Thanks @itripandfallalot!

[mermaidsirennikita]

also now that rwarb was such a successful adaptation, which queer romances would you like to see them tackle next?

Weeeeelll if there were zero budgetary and casting restrictions in place, if I could just wave a magic wand and make great adaptations--

Heated Rivalry by Rachel Reid--SEEMS like one of the easiest options, comes built in with a sequel, and it's like. Along the same lines as RWARB, while being.... a lot more sexual and a good bit angstier because the stakes are arguably HIGHER (mostly I'm thinking of Ilya being a world-famous Russian athlete who's also like. Bi.). I feel like it's funny and swooningly romantic in a manner similar to RWARB, but it's the next level up in a sense re: maturity. I also think, again, they could actually do this... albeit with a lot of obstacles re: both sexual content and like, casting dudes who could be fake hockey players lol. And one of them has to either be Russian or miraculously do a bang-up Russian accent. Both of these things are challenges.

The Queer Principles of Kit Webb by Cat Sebastian--would be SUCH a good mini? A historical romcom with the soft bisexual former highwayman and the flashiest motherfucker who's ever walked into the tavern or whatever like "HELP ME ROB MY DAD... and I will consider letting you look at my ankles". And then he SWORDFIGHTS LMAO? Perfect perfect perfect. then you could have the Marian book as a sequel.

Something Fabulous/Something Spectacular by Alexis Hall--you begin with a mini on the ultimate m/m romcom roadtrip romance, then you transition to the equally funny but also deeply emotionally stirring book about two nonbinary characters falling in love? and one of them is BASICALLY a rockstar?

A Long Time Dead by Samara Breger--the sapphic Interview with the Vampire, incredibly good and wry and dark and funny and ROMANTIC

A Lady for a Duke by Alexis Hall--would be an amazing sweeping four part period drama; I just love the premise so much, with the heroine transitioning by faking her death at Waterloo and her best friend never emotionally getting over it and then meeting her again after her transition and not recognizing her until he realizes she has THE SAME FRECKLES??? JESUS. A full-stop ROMANCE romance.

The Secret Lives of Country Gentlemen by KJ Charles--JOSS DOOMSDAY and his gay exploits in the marsh! Blackmailing his old hookup to continue his smuggling operation and then following that old hookup home and going "so like... you down to fuck or....?"

This is completely impossible but I'm gonna pie in the sky and say Tiffany Reisz's Original Sinners would make the most demented borderline-impossible explicit TV series ever. Imagine the ongoing antics of a bisexual dominatrix, her ex-boyfriend except actually not except the love of her life who is a Catholic priest that gets sexual pleasure out of inflicting pain, a totally straight man (according to himself) who has nonetheless been in a 20+year off/on thing with a bisexual French guy who runs the kink underworld of New York City or something. And they all fuck together sometimes. Like at Christmas. Complete with a snowball moment! Because Christmas!

New Camelot Trilogy--will never happen, but in my wiiiiiiildest dreeeeeeams this would be like, a 10-episode miniseries (or more??? Like a full outlander-style 13 episode series..... or a three season deal with 8 episodes per season...). It's just one of my favorite romance series of all time, it does such a good job of melting from the simple love triangle to this complex menage a trois of possessive wounded messy people? And somehow two of them are the president and the vice president lmao??? Of course, in the same sense... I'd love a Thornchapel miniseries. Like, you'd get a m/m/f throuple, a f/f couple, and this one bi priest guy they all fuck with at points? But nobody wants me to have the Gothic polyamorous friend group romance I want.

[richardsphere]

Leverage Redemption Log: The Jackal Job

Name unlikely to refer to an actual jackal, an animal that is one of the most common aliases for fictional phantom-thief types (probably slightly after "cat" and before "fox" but i dont have any hard data) --- Episode starts, nice old lady is wondering why a man, presumably her son, or one of those court-apointed guardians is stealing her stuff. Fuck its going to be about Elderly Abuse.

As of right now, its not entirely clear as to wether he is an asshole who is exploiting a dementing relative, legitimately trying to take care of her but struggling financially because fuck the economy is just never gonna recover from the multiple financial collapses we've suffered or outright gasslighting her into believing she is suffering dementia. 2/3 options would make him evil and this is leverage so im not holding out hope for him being misunderstood. so like, probably evil with maybe a 2.5% chance of a "he's trying his best and just really shit at showing it". But yeah, this is leverage. He's a baddie, question is just if he's exploiting his mom, or feigning a relation so he can go to the judge and say "she's so far gone, she doesnt recognise her son (who i definitlly am)" --- Episode starts: Breanna is forced to do community service cause she was caught stealing something. (this is our "juror number 6" plot for Breanna.) Take your time, slow down, pay attention to details. Well nice to see Sophie give the crux of this episode away in her first 3 lines of the episode. and she just picked Breanna's pocket. She's an old thief. (wonder if she and Archie ever hung out...) Sophie spots the ring, then the Astonomers by Vermeer and realises instantly that she knows this woman. (also, does the son know that is the genuine Vermeer he's gonna sell, or does he think its one of those gift-store Mona Lisa's? Cause if he doesn't, he's in for the worst deal of a century) --- Alzheimer's... Well guess im going to be feeling a lot less witty writing this log then most. Thats not something i'd like to joke about too much. Ok, Hinkley is not his son, he's a professional guardian. --- just a side-note that we'd better end this episode with at least an alusion to Breanna having hacked whatever servers are tracking her community service, cause she's kind of about to build up a truancy on that stuff. Like i know that "caring for an elderly or disabled person" is the type of stuff that could be court appointed community service, but this was not the task she was court appointed

Sophie is pulling the "im your replacement" card. Jackal picks up quickly. --- Ok the team is all here now, You're being stupid. She's here because she fell in love with the mark, (who is probably but not guaranteed to be her power of attorney). Her last con was a failure or at least not a known success. Looking for the one thing that she stole that was never returned isnt gonna solve anything because she isnt known to have stolen it. --- Ok the little Edie con is working? Basically a violin-sale but Parker is the Violin. Breanna has experience with elderly Alzheimers patients (grandma) We're doing Leverage Crew-ified Flashbacks again... (this is gonna hurt on an emotional level)

Oh i can see where the twist is gonna happen: Josephine was the mark (bars real owner=safe's real owner=safe combination knower)... And Jo, former bar-owner, fled the country alongside her to escape her gangster ex and started a coffee shop in this town. Oops, Breanna just all-but confirmed the first half of my suspicions (which this early in the episode, means im wrong) --- Harry has a little conductors hat amongst his stuff... Oh look at that, he just said the judge gets first pick of his stolen goods... the judge has the gun (and a heck of a scandal it'd be if a judge was found in posession of stolen goods... and a stolen gun belonging to a founding father at that...) Lovely work on the tiny mirror-box (that she definitly hadnt arranged to be there in advance), Elbow bruises. (chances she didnt "donate" the gun cause it was used in the murder of a london gangster named Earl increasing rapidly) --- The painting, find the painting. "prefect never lasts forever"

they had a daughter.

and all was fine until the papertrail caught up to them. (the daughter... She might be our way out) --- get the judge (noted antiques lover) to overhear that the Turlington Pistol was amongst her posessions, divide and conquer. the money was in the car. (i was a bit suspicious when Jo said "its got a couple hundred worth of tips" when they were running away. But i justified it as her being too good a citisen to steal from Earl) --- Tip for showrunners: If you want to start a comercial block on a cliffhanger, dont have it be an attempted murder of our still-alive narrator. It sort of undermines the tense suspension.

so she shot earl (unsuprising.) Back in the modern day we're headed for a warehouse and Jackal is lifts the gun so we can frame Sophie for stealing the gun so they can steal a fake back from Sophie.

Ok not so much a fake (they didnt have time to prep one) as just placing a made in china sticker on the real and genuine article. (amazingly simple act of brilliance)

Parker's reputation is worth its weight in gold. (a personal favour from someone who started this season by stealing 8 Rembrandts in a single night in multiple museums across the entire United States, is worth a lot compared to a contract with a small-time purveyor of stolen goods. Whodathunk?)

Oh they did pull an entire switch with the gun. (honestly, after the little Made In China sticker reveal, the fact they pulled a genuine switch with a store-bought replica instead of a simple sticker-sleight-of-hand is suddenly quite disapointing, especially as we know the fence was on their side anyways.)

Im going to be honest and say that the Jo acress doesnt have the most convincing elderly wig. (also they kept the plushie) ---

[kateofthecanals]

I like to check my FYP every couple of days because it can often yield some generally interesting content which I might have otherwise missed on my (very carefully curated) dashboard. But on the other hand, it's a slippery slope to encountering some of the most breathtakingly bizarre and demented takes from certain dank, dark corners of the ASOIAF fandom, istg...

It's not even a matter of "have we even read the same books?" -- These people have basically RE-written the books entirely in their heads in order to conform to their own unhinged biases. And the saddest part is, it's usually in service to their ship of choice (more often than not, a non-canon ship). They are SO determined to justify why their ship is the "correct" one that they have completely warped and twisted the canon characteristics of any character that threatens their ship. And not only that, they have also INVENTED all of these perceived fandom slights against the characters they stan THAT JUST DO NOT EXIST!!! (Ex: Arya stans angrily claiming that D&D so "obviously" preferred Sansa over Arya.... lmao WHAT??)

And the worst part of it is how easy it is to spot which characters an OP stans just by who they're bashing, and how. Like it's become some unwritten rule that if you love X character, then you HAVE to hate Y and Z characters. And fans of Y and Z characters hate X character, and there's no nuance allowed. (i.e.: if you ship J*nerys, Sansa is basically the worst human who ever existed, period... even though Sansa has NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT SHIP, but because she is deemed a threat to that ship by a Certain Other Fandom, congrats, you are now obligated to build endless hate campaigns against her. You are also an Arya stan now too btw.)

And look, I'll be the first to admit that I have SanSan Tunnel Vision™, but it hasn't completely blinded me to the nuances of other characters and story aspects, lol. I cannot say the same for other stans, for whom ASOIAF is only about one or two characters and all others simply do not exist, and they will just casually assign traits to their faves that not only aren't a thing but actually ARE a thing, canonically, of other characters!!! I just sit and stare in disbelief.

And honestly? This won't end when/if TWOW comes out. These people's headcanons and delusions are so calcified by this point that anything George has to say will be met with mariah_carey_i_can't_read_suddenly.gif....

[papirouge]

Lepetitebabydoll is now hisbelovedangel. Trying to be a good Christian but still racist and trad while playing as a wife and not married yet. And picking fights with people who call out larping trad men 🥴 there’s something dark about her

Okay I gave in and scrolled her blog and I—

She admitted her fiancé was actually married when they met and that he divorced his wife to get with her😧 She also seemingly much younger than him which is a HUGE red flad.

As racist & demented she is, I lowkey like her (don't judge me, I have a thing for deranged terminally online churchy girls 💀) and I hope that for her own good she'll snap out of it ASAP. If she's getting trapped with a marriage + baby with that scrote, things might become very hard on her. Even her own followers are telling her she's in danger, but she won't listen.... :/

Also my intuition was right: she definitely have a thing against Black women bc her ex husband (!) was a Black man... Everything is coming around now, and that explains a lot (competitiveness against other women, her racist comments on beautiful Black models pics, etc.)

She admitted entertaining a very nasty energy lately and scrapped a bunch of things off her blog. IDK why she keeps saying people are photoshoping her posts to make her spout racist things though - the reblogs from her (documented ) ex URL are just here...💀

She definitely used the word "cunt" to diss women so why is she acting like the lolcow screenshot weren't her bc "that's not from her vocabulary"? 🤔 I mean, yeah, it might not be her, but why acting like words of your own vocabulary couldn't be yours because that's not how you speak?

[consequencesofargentdawn]

You've been a thorn in my side for a long, long, long time now CoAD. A few screenshots of some things said in jest won't be enough to bring me down. Your blog has done nothing in the past few months apart from cause a few weak willed members to flee like the rats they are. Even though you've been trying to get into Shewp's head, he is far more resilient than a cretin like you gives him credit for.

The PCU is a -legion- and members are loyal. For every person that has left, more people have joined. CoAD will be too cowardly to post this, but know that the PCU is still growing stronger despite the claims made here. I want you to know that -I- like many others will very much be going down with the ship if you ever did happen to succeed (which you will not). You will never drive us from this server and we won't bow down by choice.

It will only be a matter of time before we find out who you and your editors. We know you have agents within the PCU as well, both old and new - they are being hunted within renewed effort and will be discovered and blacklisted for abetting you. You have had nothing more than a few 'minor' victories CoAD - the war is on going and there is only room for one of us in the future of Argent Dawn.

Hold on, let us get the 'how to deal with an internet tough guy' textbook.

Firstly, how is losing five guilds in four months doing for you? We found it rather funny that even after Grim Gest, Cleft of Shadow and Ardent Pursuit merged with their opposite faction counterpart ( We thought neutral RP was bad! ) These guilds have continued to lose numbers rather than gain them.

More on the PCU census soon actually, keep an eye open sports fans.

The PCU is anything but legion and loyal. Considering a majority of our contributions come from members or ex members disaffected with what is happening. A failed vanity project with its founder now actively trying to pull people off WoW. Guild leaders and officers repeatedly shown to engage in threats of violence and being sex pests. "THREE HUNDRED MEMBERS STRONG" is now barely down to about 30 active members at any major PCU event, the size of a normal guild.

Twenty five failed guilds, of which twenty have gone dead since Perroy fell off the radar last year. Your guild leaders are insulating themselves or outright abandoning ship. Vitsaus nervously stops advertising his guild as PCU in trade chat, all of your elf guilds have imploded spectacularly. Talirei(Azure Dawn), Lunarglade(Eternal Sisterhood) have ran off to make pseudo-PCU guilds with their loyal followers (The Sunspear and House Bemoux respectively). Even the nominal leader of the PCU, Gruggosh has made an insurance guild on the Alliance as the Sword of Triumph.

We fully expect the likes of you (either Coalburnt or a Grim Gang stooge writing this) to go down with the ship in emulation of your primary inspiration. Der Untergang of the PCU is already inescapable at this point and the whole server knows, we're just watching and waiting for the last rants of the PCU 'Endsieg' to whimper out.

So please, do continue showing yourselves to be the biggest clown convention Argent Dawn has ever known, please do continue to bully and harass your own members for non-compliance and ideological impurity. Please do continue to try and fail miserably at identifying 'big bad CoAD' and showing how much we live rent free in your heads. You only show the rest of us what kind of sick and demented people exist inside the PCU, so obsessed with image and control and unable to fathom people enjoying their hobby in a way they dislike.

[anotherapostate]

Fairly long vent under the cut because I have Problems and I’m not entirely sure how to talk about it with the people in my life.

(featuring: wedding woes, conservative Christianity, dresses, an ex-gf, alcohol mention)

Before I was out (or even realized that I was a lesbian for that matter), I attended a four-year Christian college with the purpose of taking a ministerial position within my (conservative, evangelical) denomination. You can imagine how well that went. Once I graduated, I left the faith and lost contact with a lot of friends. This was my fault, but the shame I felt within those first six months was too much to bear, and I couldn’t face my peers who were still in the faith. The few friends I retained from that time mean a lot to me, even if our beliefs aren’t the same anymore. It’s hard to explain, but my experiences at that school seem so incomprehensible to others that weren't there with us (or didn't have a similar experience), that it’s like, “well, we believe different things, but at least I can talk to you about this very formative time in my life and feel understood. You don’t look at me like I have three heads.”

All that to say, my college roommate is getting married and I’m invited to the wedding, which I’m excited for. She’s still in the faith, but she’s always been more left-leaning than our peers. She knows I’m queer and still invited me to her wedding (just the thought makes me want to cry). I’ve already RSVP’ed to the shower/wedding, so it’s too late to back out now, but the more I think about this wedding, the more stressed I feel.

In the Bridal Shower invitation, the stated dress code is “fall/summer dresses.” Dear Reader, I have not worn a dress since my college graduation in 2019. I am a fat, hairy butch with an undercut and a dress-less wardrobe. But I don’t want to make a fuss on a day that isn’t mine, so I ordered a skirt online and figured I could Dyke It Up. But the idea of wearing this skirt makes me feel sick. Like I’m choosing to wear a costume to make others happy. Like I’m impersonating my former college self: closeted, afraid, shame-filled. And even taking the "college-self impersonation" out of the equation, I don't feel at home in traditionally feminine clothing anymore. I wish I had the language to express these feelings. Using vocabulary like “gender dysphoria” feels incorrect to describe my (cisgendered) experience, and I don’t want to misuse words meant to describe trans experiences. But god, this feeling has to be adjacent? A cousin or step-sibling? If the skirt don’t have pockets and I have to bring some sort of bag, I would rather fling myself into the Atlantic. The thought of bringing a purse is almost unbearable. Now, I know the obvious solution is to ask if I could wear pants, but again — it feels like I’m making my friend’s day about myself. I think my social anxiety would prefer me suffering in a skirt than being seen as the Dyke that needed Accommodation.

I will be wearing a jacket/pants for the actual day of the wedding. I’m less concerned about this. I know my peers (and maybe former professors if any are present?) will stare, but hey — half of them probably suspected I was gay in school anyway. Not much use in hiding now. What will be awkward is talking to people I haven’t spoken to in years and nod along with the Jesus talk.

I am 99.99% sure my ex from college will be there. We don’t talk, we aren’t friends, and I still have a grudge against her for reasons I won’t get into here. Which means that we’ve gone from “two queer women hiding our queer relationship from our peers” to “two queer women hiding our former queer relationship and current misgivings with one another from our peers.” Which is demented and stupid and probably a great plot for a fanfic if I wasn’t already living it. (If someone wants to write a fic about this, be my guest. Please give meaning to my very silly sufferings.) There is a chance that she will be at the head table/in the wedding party, in which case I won’t have to sit near her, but I know myself and I probably will feel petty about that too.

If this is a dry wedding (and there’s a good chance — my former denomination is dry) and I have to deal with all of the above, I will probably combust. Part of me want to bring a flask, but if others smell alcohol on me, that will put me in a worse light and give validity to the belief that I’m unhappy because I’m “living separate from God” (see: living as a lesbian).