#but then even with context I'm just kinda. Lost. ^^;

[legionofpotatoes]

everyone hates crunch and everyone wants the new dragon age to have 4x the scope with 8x the quantum content

[wispythreads]

Finally watching some form of the minecraft youtuber fandom stuff is an experience because at least as an outsider who gets first introduced to it there’s always like. These fantastic dramatic art pieces, animations, fan fiction, all about intense subjects such as the fragility of interconnections, the horror of either a completely blindsided or expected, doomed betrayal, the trauma of war and constant fighting that can completely change the entire being of a person, the tiny soft moments of warmth and light and companionship that get instantly snuffed out by the overarching weight of desperation and despair. And then you watch the videos that inspired all of this and its just two goobers trying to build a wall around an entire desert biome thinking somehow they’re going to impose a monopoly on sand in a server with like. Maybe five other people. A player/character ends up having to go into his evil murder arc due to modified hard core mode game mechanics because he accidentally fell off a cliff while he was so happy singing a little song to himself about science buddies.

[lorebird]

The mainline pokemon games' poor writing is very frustrating 75% of the time because it's either close to being good or just a complete waste of potential. However the other 25% of the time I fucking love that nothing is fleshed out because then I can hit it with Autism Blast and do whatever the fuck I want

[l-in-the-light]

Trafalgar Law on touching and being touched

It won't be a perverted post despite the title lol. But I won't stop your imagination, be free!

There's this funny theme going on with Law and Luffy in particular that picked my interest.

Luffy touched him first.

And he later returned the gesture, much more awkwardly.

Again, Luffy grabbed him angrily first.

Law made sure to return the gesture. (btw he also does it with Zoro, who was the first one to wrap an arm around him at post-Dressrosa feast. In Wano Law has no problem grabbing Zoro and shouts at him angrily. Again, it was Zoro who initiated the touch first).

Law grabbing Luffy to teleport them makes Luffy react in a curious way, you wanna know why?

Because it totally feels like this moment. Both Law and Ace, right after getting uncuffed, grabbed Luffy in same way to get him to a safer place. Ace-Law parallel in relation to Luffy kills me. The whole Dressrosa arc's plotline between Luffy and Law is just Marineford Went Well This Time. Ngl I kinda hated Oda at first for that. Now i dig it.

He didn't seem to like that. Luffy says "Let's all get along well!", but Law thinks alliances don't have to "get along".

Mistranslation here. What Law says here, being so surprised, is "nakayoshi ka?!" which means "you two get along?!" or "you two are buddy-buddies?!". It's a callback to Luffy declaring that Law and Strawhats crew should get along (he uses same word then, nakayoku-get along), Law learns here that Luffy's crew indeed "gets along well". You can interpret it whatever way you wish, but I will use it this time to put this scene into context:

The same gesture Luffy did to him before, but Law didn't return it to Luffy - that's because they're not crewmates. But he takes the lesson to heart and "gets along" with his own crew. Omg I can't believe i'm writing it, I make Law sound like this completely awkward adult who doesn't know how to be friends with people.

But bear with me, the shit is only starting. If you don't want to have feels I reccommend you just laugh at it and stop reading here. I digged up a feels landmine by accident. In-depth study starts below!

It's also a possible callback to the "reassurance" Law got from Cora-san. "I'm counting on you to escape" and Law did. He counts for his crew to steer the submarine well in similar manner.

Law's family didn't seem very touchy-feely, so please keep that in mind as well. He's got limited experience with touches and the few touches he did get familiar with were either taken away from him or brutalized.

Law getting patted on the head lovingly by his parent.

Next time this loving gesture happens, he gets thrown from like two-floor building into a pile of garbage.

And then he gets lied to that everything will be fine. We all know it wasn't.

Do you still wonder why he hates being touched on the head?

The sister touches his face gently while showing child Law support and compassion, reminding him not to despair, someone kind will help him.

Corazon doing the same gentle touch to the face while crying for him, thinking of all the pain Law had to experience. Indeed, the world sent Law someone kind. And Law lost him and blames himself for that.

Law holding Lammy's hand while lying to her that it will be alright. He never does that gesture again to anyone.

The sister holding Law's hand.

"Don't come closer! Don't touch us! We will get infected!" even doing the barrier gesture (I guess that's why Law doesn't get along with Bartolomeo). I used only few examples, there is much more, I just couldn't bear posting them all. Anyway, Law's got the message, his touch is unwanted. The body and mind remembers this.

Similar shit said at the auction in Sabaody about Fishmen, we don't see Law's reaction to that, but we can guess already that it was for sure triggering. Those people talking are sitting not that far away from him.

Ever wondered why Law throws people when teleporting? Besides the fact he avoids making contact with anyone unless they initiate it first, because that trauma is still strong in him ("Stay away! Don't come closer!"), there is one other possible reason:

Wonder no more! He does it to people because that's how people treated him as well, even people who apparently loved him.

Now that I have ruined the "Law is just an awkward unsocial nerd" joke for you, let me offer something to warm your heart a bit in exchange:

Corazon made sure to touch Law a lot and hold him in his arms, despite being often clumsy about it. I think he understood Law's trauma about being touched and his fear to touch or approach anyone, and tried to help him overcome it.

Being hugged and trying to return the gesture. Corazon's efforts did bring some results! But it only works for very few people, Law is still wary of people he doesn't know well. He expects to be unwanted and acts uneccessarily cold, distant and unapproachable because of that. But if you scroll back to the beginning of this post, you can see that he is trying his best to overcome it as well, one step at a time. Some things just can't be rushed.

And hey, at least he seems to be actually relaxed and almost like he *enjoys* being carried around. You think it makes him look uncool? Definitely. But suddenly it feels like Something Important, kinda intimate in a way and not just a silly comedy moment. It's a sign Law relies on people when he lets them carry him and that's why he doesn't protest.

Sanji is like "Why are you relaxing like that?! Get off!!" Finally, it makes sense why Law makes such a sour face here. Sanji should be grateful for the rare privileage after all! Anyway, this is anime-only extension, in manga Sanji actually doesn't tell Traffy to get off and Law chooses to scramble by himself, which doesn't taint the fragile trust those two just shared.

For those who made it to the end of this post, have I ruined Law's comedy moments for you forever? Because I sure just did that for myself.

I could also add one more cute thing from One Piece World Seeker Law's dlc, but I will let those interested to discover it by themselves!

I'm also amazed by the consistency of this theme. Both manga and anime never forget that touch is seemingly a big deal for Law.

[spidybaby]

Footnote | Part Two

Summary: After you close the chapter of him in your life, he will open your chapter to keep writing on it, hoping you would let him do it.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of surgery, asshole!gavi (kinda)

A/N: Hi, I want to apologize for the time I took to write this, something happened and I wasn't in the best mood to write. But I hope that you like it <3

Part one | Part three

"Papi, can you help me?"

You walked downstairs with your computer in hand. You wanted him to critique your most recent paper.

You've been working on it for a month. It was worth a big portion of your grade, and you needed it to be perfect.

Your father reads it carefully, making sure to think about the inside context of your work. He finishes way too quick for your liking.

"It's good." He smiles.

You frown. Looking at your laptop and back at him. "Just good?" You smile.

"I mean, I kinda got lost halfway through it, but it's good, princess."

You take a deep breath, you needed more than just > it's good < you needed someone to tell you every little mistake without caring if it was going to make you mad.

You needed someone who would help you give you an idea or a suggestion to get the paper better.

You close your laptop, roll your eyes, and thank him for the help. You were back on square one. You needed to trust your intuition and check it one more time on your own.

"What?" He asks.

"Nothing, thank you." You say, walking away.

"Then what's up with the eyes rolling?"

"Dad, I need more than just an >it's good<. I need you to read it and give me your thoughts, give me your honest opinion on what you like and dislike, what you find confusing and what you feel needs to change."

"I think it's good, isn't that enough?" He asks. You roll your eyes again, walking past him to get out of his office. "Well, I'm sorry, I'm not Pablo." He shouts as you walk upstairs.

You shut your door angry. He was right. He's not him.

He was the one you would trust your work, he would give you his honest opinion, and you trusted him with your heart.

He was your safe space.

"No entiendo cuál es el problema, dáselo!" (I don't get what's the problem, just give it to her) Aurora says, confused look on her face.

"Joder, no quieres que también me arrodille a pedirle que sea mi esposa?" (don't you want me to get in one knee and ask her to marry me?) Pablo says, rolling her eyes at his sister's proposal.

He got the tickets for the Ballon D'or Ceremony, he was getting the golden boy award. Originally, he was getting a ticket for his parents, his sister and for you.

But since you are not part of that equation anymore, he has to give somebody the ticket left.

Aurora rolled her eyes and told him to give it to Paula, since he seems to favors her over you. Pablo immediately declined. Paula was not even on the options list.

"She doesn't get me like Y/n did" he says, sad eyes.

Aurora then suggested him to talk to you. To mend things and to get you to go with them to Paris. He again declined the idea, he didn't felt ready to do so.

"Then I'm not sure what else to say" she throws a pillow at him. "You were the one who fucked things up, Pablo."

Pablo turns his face to her, mouth open to the point its hurting. "I did not" he shouts.

Aurora laughed, she heard both Pablo's point of view and her brother's. She was mortified when you told her what happened. She wanted to kill Pablo with a pillow.

"You did." she says, smiling at him. "You literally rejected her over some girl who you don't even find attractive, just funny."

Pablo can't defend himself. He did fucked up.

"If you don't find Paula someone attractive, then why are you with her?" she asked, not understanding her brother. "You had the chance to be with the girl you know and who knows you, every flaw, every picky thing, every little detail."

Pablo shakes his head, not feeling like having the conversation with Aurora. He can't even open his gallery without feeling like crying at how much he misses you.

"Okay, one more smile and we are good" the photographer says, pointing the camera back at you.

You smile, holding the glass trophy in your hands. After the flash shoots at you, you stopped smiling. You didn't feel happiness or proudness.

You got a trophy and a honorary mention in your College Magazine. That magazine is read by a lot of local poets and important writers. The teachers and the head of the college Magazine congratulate you.

They all were proud of you for the amazing work you did with the poem of "Footnote."

To you it was just a mask, you didn't feel happy about winning with that one work. It was just a dump of your feelings about the Pablo situation, it wasn't meant to be a prestigious thing.

You walked upstairs with your trophy in hand. Your mom noticed you were quiet and lost, so she follows you to your room.

You throw the trophy in the garbage bin near your bed, you don't want to see anything that reminds you of Pablo, and that included that poem.

"What are you doing?" you mom asks, walking inside and picking the award, reading it. "You won an award?"

You nod, changing and getting into bed, you wanted to sleep and to have some time for yourself. Your parents were worried about you, so their plan was to make you as much company as possible.

"Y/n, I'm talking to you." she says, stern tone. "Why did you threw this?"

"Mom, I'm tired." you whine, you cover yourself with the blanket, avoiding the conversation. "Go away, find someone else to bother."

But she wasn't having it, she threw the cover off of you. The look on her face is making you regret saying that. "Cuál es tu problema?" (what is your problem?) she asks, tired of your attitude.

"I don't have a problem, I just want to sleep."

"Well, you are not." she grabs your arm, pulling it up and making you sit. "Why did you threw this?" she asks again.

You don't want to cry again.

You already cry enough for a lifetime, enough for the next ten heartbreaks. Enough for the rest of your failed love life.

"Y/n, mija" she seats in bed with you. "I know this is hard for you, but you have to stop with this mentality, this won't be beneficial for you. You need to get a grip, put on some makeup, and just get better. As harsh as that sounds, that's necessary for you. You need this."

You nod, wiping your tears.

"I just miss him so much." you confess.

"I know, and I would love to take your pain away, but Pablo made his choice, and you need to accept that even if that choice hurst you, you need to keep going. You can't just be a bed bug and live you life trying to escape someone. You are not that girl."

You nod, smiling at her and giving her a hug. "Thank you, mami."

"Now, get some rest. I'm taking you out to celebrate your award." She kisses your temple, getting up and walking to the door. "Don't worry, Honey. It will all go away."

"It will all go away" you repeat, nodding and smiling.

"Joder, que ya voy" Pablo yells, walking quickly to the door.

The knocks are consistent and very desperates, he feels like someone is being murdered on the other side.

"Paula?" he asks, confused on what the girl is doing at his house. "Why are you here?"

She scuff, rolling her eyes and walking inside. She takes a seat on his couch, looking at him while he close the door and walks very slowly to where she is.

"Well?"

"Pablo, tell me what you asked me two days ago?"

"Qué?" he's more confused now, what is she even talking about? "How am I supposed t-"

"You asked me." She interrupts him. "Hey, want to get some coffee? I said yes, you then said, Let's meet at this place I like, see you there at 3 o'clock on Wednesday."

He then remembers, he did asked her to go out, but he was so busy with his own mind that he forgot about her. He feels bad because she doesn't deserve that, but at the same times it's a mistake, shit happens, right?

"That still doesn't answer why are you here." he says, very careless about what she just told him.

"Gavi!" she whines, "You left me there, by myself."

"Okay?"

"For more than an hour." she yells.

He then looks at the clock, it was almost five.

"Sorry, I guess."

"Oh, you guess?" she laughs. "Don't tell me you are still crying over her."

He frowns. "What are you talking about?"

He hopes she says that she got confused and that it was nothing. But she didn't, she looked at him with this dirty look of hers, eyes roaming around the room while trying to get the right words.

"Your friends told me that you and Y/n are not friends anymore, and after the party you have been so distant and just so out of your mind, if it's not that, then what is?"

Pablo clench his jaw, he doesn't want to talk about you with his own family, and he won't start doing it with her. He knows Paula is just doing that to get a reaction out of him.

"Please leave. I don't feel good, sorry that I forgot."

That was a first with her.

But it wasn't the end.

"So you are not coming to my birthday party?" she asks, mad at the boy in front of her. "Gavi, you promised."

He rolls his eyes, tired of her whining. He regrets even inviting giving her a follow back after the party. Feeling tired of how she always pressure him into doing things he never like.

It was all so different with you.

You were one to stop him if you see he was about to do something he didn't feel comfortable with, if you noticed he was not in a good mood you would do things to make him feel better. You were his happiness on a grey day.

Now his grey days were just that, grey.

"I can't. I have to work."

She scuffs. "If I was Y/n, you would've call in sick."

He feels the shivers run down his spine. He can't lose his cool with her. He has to be patient and understand that she feels like the second girl in his life.

"That's not true, I can't miss this." He sighs, taking her hand. "I'll make it up to you." He smiles at her.

She just nods, cuddling into his arm. Pablo doesn't feel comfortable, he feels weird, why can't he feel the same way he did with you? That level of comfort.

He craves that.

When the movie is done Pablo feels lighter, he doesn't have to spend much time with Paula because she was going home. That bright up his mode.

"Do you want to order take out?" She asks.

"I shouldn't, I'm getting weighted soon." he pouts, looking at her.

"We can order some salads. I know a place that serves the best cesar, really healthy."

"It's getting late, maybe you should go home."

Pablo can tell that what he just said didn't sit right with her. Her eyes got glossy. But he can't be bothered by that. He doesn't react to that.

"I'll call you when I'm free." he stands up and walks to the kitchen to get some water.

He hears her closing the door. He then noticed a bad that was the exact one you have, in the same colour and everything. He then grab it, going after her.

He doesn't understand what happened, but his brain was in auto mode with the bag, thinking it was yours he calls your name.

Paula who was opening her car door, turns looking at him in disbelief. He called her by your name. He didn't even flinch or thought about it, he just said your name out loud.

"What did you just call me?"

Pablo then reacts, "Paula, sorry. Paula." he says her name twice to get it tru his head. "Your bag, you forgot it."

Paula snatch her bag out of his hands. "Don't ever call me by her name again, because last time I checked, I'm here and she's not. So stop it." she warns him.

That all it takes to make Pablo mad. He won't allow her to talk about you in that way, as if she knows you or knows anything about the relationship you two had.

"You are wrong there." he smiles.

"Qué?"

"Because you are not here, not anymore." he smirks. "I don't want to see you again. Block my number or something. I don't want you to talk about Y/n in any way. She might not be here right now, but to me, she's something you would never be. Important."

With that Pablo turns and closes the door of his home. Not having to worry about dealing with someone he doesn't want to see anymore.

"Mom, I don't feel good." you say, walking downstairs. "Can I stay here today?"

Your mom puts her hand on your forehead, feeling how warm you are. "I think it's best if we schedule a doctor's appointment."

Your dad calls for you, asking for an emergency appointment. You text your teacher that you will be absent and that you will turn in the doctor's note later.

"I'll go to the store and get some things for a soup, that would make you feel better." She says, kissing your hair. "I'll be right back."

While you feel like trash and curl in a ball on your couch. Pablo is searching for the ingredients Aurora requested him to take home. She was making him some food to celebrate his goals on the recent match.

He was texting everything he picked to his sister, trying to not make a mistake. He was looking at some spices when he saw your mom. He smile, he loves her, and she loves him.

He pokes her side, making her turn to see him. "Hola, mami." he jokes with her. He calls her mom from time to time. Always feeling like a part of the family.

"Pablito." She says happily. "Baby, how are you?"

"Been better." He pouts. Making her frown. "I miss you, I really do."

Your mom understands, she can't be mad at Pablo. To her, he was like a son. "Let's finish with our shopping and then we can go to the café down the street to talk, deal?"

He nods, happy that he can talk with someone he trust. He helps her finishing with picking her things. And she does the same for him. Pablo's demeanor changed, you can tell he's happy now. Not the sad puppy eyes he had when he first say hello.

He order for both your mom and himself, he knows her order since he was a kid. The usual for him. You know his mother's favorite things. Her favorite food, her favorite drink, the burger she would order. Everything.

"Want to tell me why you have those sad eyes?" She asks, hand over Pablos cheek. He melted into her touch, missing that motherly touch she has with him.

"I'm sure at this point you already know what happened between Y/n and me." he looks down. "I feel like my life is not the same since then."

She nods, understanding Pablo.

As much as she felt mad or angry with him when you told her the story. She can't be mad with him for long. Pablo was her other baby, and she knows he made a mistake.

"I know," She smiles. "But I need you to tell me your side of the story so I can understand you."

Pablo takes a deep breath, not sure on where to start. The party? The kiss? The other kiss? Where?

"My friends dared me to kiss someone named Paula, I said no, because I didn't wanted her to feel like I was interested. Then they told me to just kiss someone, and Y/n walked into the room. It was like a natural thing to think of her."

He won't keep anything inside, he wants someone to give him an honest point of view.

"We kissed, she asked me to take her home and I did. But-" he think for a second, not sure how to say to your mom > Hey, I kissed you daughter not once, but twice <

"But she kissed you again in the car." she finished the sentence for him, making him blush. "It's okay, don't keep anything."

"Then that happened, and I think after that the way I showed her affection was confusing for her. I didn't knew she had feelings for me. I think, I'm so used to being like that with her that I didn't think it enough."

"Do you have feelings for her?"

"I think I don't." he says, not sure of his own words. "I just think what we did after the kiss was something we always did. The hugs, the nicknames, the cuddling. It was all normal for us."

But was it?

"And when she found out I kissed her because of a dare. She confessed to me that she had feelings. I chicken out, I didn't wanted to lose my best friend. I didn't wanted to lose the only thing that was normal in my life." he sighs, eyes glossy at the feelings. "I regret hurting her like I did. I really do."

Your mom hugs him. Letting him feel the support he needed to feel. He needs to stop feeling guilty, he needs to stop thinking he's the bad guy of the story.

"Can I talk to her? I really need to do it. I want her back, my life it's not the same without her." he begs.

You mom smiles, noticing how all you two need is some serious guidance. You need you stop thinking like kids, and think a little more mature for situations like this.

"I don't think she's ready, Pablo." She shakes her head no. "She's not over the hurt feelings, and like that she won't talk with you. Let's wait a little more."

He nods, hugging her. He understand that you need your time. He can't be impulsive over your feelings like he was. You need to get over your grieve, and he will respect that.

You throw up again, feeling dizzy at how hot the room was. You don't have the energy to move back to bed. You want to call your mom, but your voice came as a whisper.

You lay down, trying to get the feeling of dizziness and the pain on your side. The bathroom floor is cold, making you feel a little better. You crawl back to your room, picking your phone from the nightstand and calling your father.

pablogavi

Liked by pedri, and 3,240,734 others

pablogavi ¡Estamos en la final! ¡Vamos @fcbarcelona ! 💙❤️

Your father was looking at his phone, waiting for you to wake up after your surgery. He was happy for Pablo and for the team. You all are Culers.

"Papi." You whisper, looking at him on the chair next to the hospital bed. "Where am I?"

"Hola, mi amor. You are in the hospital." he whispers too, combing your hair with his fingers. "You had an appendix emergency surgery."

You were still over the anesthesia, not fully understanding what was going on, and why were you there if you were just in pain. You just nod at him.

"Where's mom?"

"She's at home, taking a shower and grabbing some of your things, like your toothbrush and your hairbrush."

You just nod again. Feeling sleepy and tired, you touch gently your side, the covered wound making you shiver.

"Papi, where's Pablo?" you ask, confused on why isn't your friend there. "Can you call him? I want him here." you pout.

Your father looks at you with a frown, not understanding why you were asking to see Pablo when just a few nights ago you asked him to stop asking about him and the team.

"Are you sure you want me to call him?" he asks, just to make sure.

"Si." you whisper. "I want him here, please call him."

He search Pablo's number, dialing it and calling him. He walks out of the room to have a better voice to talk.

"Hello?"

"Pablo, son." he greets him. "Hope you are doing well."

"Hola, Sir." he greets. "I am, just got home from training, how are you? everything good?"

"Si, all good." he lies a little. "Just one small thing I need to ask you."

"Everything you want." he chuckles.

Your father sighs, not sure how to ask the guy you been trying not to talk to, to come visit you at the hospital.

"Y/n had a surgery, and she's fine!" he laughs, nervous. "And she asked me to call you, she says she wants you here."

Pablo got in alarm mode. Surgery? For what? Why?

"Si, please send me the address and I'll be there as soon as possible." He says, picking his sweater and his keys. Walking back into his car. "Do you need anything from your home? I can pick anything for you? Did you ate?"

Your father feels happy to hear the worried boy he missed. It was like a piece of normality for him. Something nobody asked, but he missed.

"No, Pablito. I'm fine. I ate." he smiles. "Just drive safe, please."

Pablo hangs up, trying not to press the gas and get there in no time. He has to drive safe and carefully as he promised your dad.

"Hey." He knocks on the door. "How is she?"

"She's fine." Your father says. "Come here, I missed you, kid."

Pablo hugs your father with a smile on his face. He missed his jokes, his fatherly advice, he missed going home and talking about football with someone. He missed feeling like having a father near him when his wasn't. He missed your family, he missed you.

They talk for a little, updating each other with their lives. Pablo felt a little piece of normality, it felt nice. It was like a few months ago. When he had you, when he had your family as his.

"I'll run real quick home, I need to get a quick shower and I'll be back." He says, patting Pablo's back. "My wife will be here before me."

He nods, telling him not to worry and to take his time. He was staying till they come back. He was staying until you told him not to. He needed you to see that he was there like you asked.

You were waking up, the anesthesia not as present as before. You can even feel your wound, not a very nice feeling.

You turn to see which parent was there with you. To your surprise, you see those brown locks you have memorized by heart. Pablo was doing something on his phone, not paying attention at you.

You want to call his attention, but you don't. You enjoy a few more minutes of his company. A few more breaths with his now more noticeable cologne.

You turn your face to him. His eyes found yours. "Hey, princesa."

"Hey." You whisper. "What are you doing here?"

"Your dad called me. He told me you had surgery."

"Oh, okay."

"Do you want me to leave?" he asks, sad eyes. "I'll understand if you want that."

You don't want to fight with him. You made peace with his decision, feeling better about the whole thing.

"Stay." You smile at him. "You didn't miss training, right?"

He shakes his head no, smiling. "How are you feeling?"

"It hurts." You joke.

He laughs, shaking his head. "Bet it does." he keeps combing your hair. "I got so scared when your dad told me you were here. Even if it was just a simple thing."

"I'm okay, I'll live, that's what they say."

Pablo kisses your forehead, he can't think of a lifetime where you are not there for him. Even when you two are apart.

"I'm sorry I've been so distant." he says, hands caressing your face. "I miss you, you are one of the few people I care about in this life. I'm sorry I fucked up with what I said."

"Te quiero, mi princesa." he says, smiling at you. "Do you want to eat something or drink? I can ask the nurse to bring you your food."

"I'm okay, don't worry." You grab his hand. "But a little bit of water sounds amazing."

He calls the nurse, they checked you and changed the pad from your wound. He was looking at you the whole time. The was happy he was there with you, like the old times.

After that day, Pablo went every day after practice. He was taking care of you and helping you.

You were in the hospital for ten days after surgery, you since your appendix bursted, they needed to make sure you were okay.

"I'll be okay, don't worry. Go to work and bring me one lollipop." You say on the phone.

Your parents were busy with work, or so they say. They planned this so you and Pablo could talk when you get home.

You told them you wanted to talk with him. Stablish some things in order for your friendship to work again.

"Si, Pablo is here. We are leaving now, bye." You laugh, hanging up the phone at turning to where he is. "Dad says hi, and thank you for doing this."

Pablo was happy you accepted him back into your life. You had your conditions, yet to tell them to him.

The drive home was calm, you relax and smell the cologne he uses. He drove to Dunkin donuts, getting you something light as the doctor allowed you to have one drink. Nothing with milk or yogurt.

"Okay, careful with that step." he says, holding your waist as you walk upstairs to your room.

You sit on your bed, feeling happy that you are home and not at the hospital anymore. You feel more relaxed.

You see Pablo bring your things, you have to talk with him. You have to tell him your boundaries.

"Can you sit down with me. We need to talk."

He feels nervous. "Oh, okay." he sits on the edge. Looking at you in the eyes. "Tell me."

You sigh. "I know I said it was okay for you to stay, and I'm really thankful for your help these days." You ramble to him. "But I want us to change how we talk to each other. I don't mind some nicknames, but the hugs, the kisses and the way you threat me it's not going to work. Please, let's not do it."

He understands what you mean. He doesn't want to lose you, so he would work with your terms and conditions.

"Si, I'm fine with that." he smiles.

Pablo had to adapt to not calling you all the nicknames on the books. He just named you preciosa or your name.

He spent his afternoons with you. After training he would visit you with flowers, drinks.

To you it was like going back in time but with changes. You had someone to help you with your writing, someone who talks with you about everything and nothing.

You were able to start to go back to your life. You love working on coffee shops. It was more relaxing than working at the library or at home. The smell of coffee is amazing.

You work at the same coffee three times a week. Always finding some people you know and making conversation with them.

You were working while drinking matcha, you sent a snip of your work to Pablo. He was home, waiting for a call from the social media team.

"Y/n?" You hear. You turn to find Paula, she was smiling at you. "How are you? I heard you were at the hospital. Are you okay?"

You smile. You don't dislike Paula, but she's not your cup of tea. "Hola, I'm fine, just an appendicitis."

"Cool, nice to hear you are fine." she smiles. "Can I sit? We can chat."

Before you can say no, she takes a seat at the table. You close your laptop, not really feeling like talking.

She was telling you about her life. You don't really pay attention, you were lost in your own mind, just smiling and nodding.

"And I felt bad at first, I'm not going to lie." she sighs, drinking a little of her coffee. "But I'm not going to lie, I don't blame Pablo for having feeling for you. You are so beautiful, and you guys are perfect for each other."

You then pay attention. Looking at her, looking at her eyes, was she lying?

"I'm sorry, Pablo what?" You laugh, not understanding her.

"I mean, that's what all his friend say. I think he even told them that the last time he saw them." She say, frowning.

You feel nauseous, why would all his friends think that? Did he really told them that? Why now? Why after what he did to you?

"Paula, it's nice to see you." You smile, picking your things up. "But my mom is waiting for me, and I just realized that I'm late."

You wave her goodbye. Walking outside the coffee shop and rushing home. You need to talk to your mom.

"Mom!" You shout. "MAMÁ!"

"Uno!" You yell, smiling and doing a happy dance. "I won."

"You haven't, sit down." Pablo laughs.

You two finish playing your uno game and finishing the food you ordered. "I won so I pick the movie."

You grab the remote, searching for > How to lose a guy in 10 days < that was your favorite romcom.

Pablo seats next to you. Bringing the just made popcorn. You pull him by his shoulders, making him lay down on your chest while combing his hair.

You missed doing this, and even when you asked him not to do it. You wanted to do it just like the old times.

You loved the movie, you love Matthew, you love Kate, you love the dog. You loved the part of the dress.

"If I ever get married, I want that yellow dress for my party." You say, daydreaming with wearing that day. "But my husband better look at me like Matthew looks at Kate."

Pablo hears you talking, daydreaming of you. You would look so amazing on that dress. "I can get you that dress. Let me ask my manager to ask D&G for one."

You laugh. "That would be too much to ask." You mess up his hair. "I'll wait for my future husband to get it for me."

Pablo can't help but think about you on a wedding dress, how fucking amazing you would look with that yellow dress while dancing with him.

With him.

"Do you want kids?" He asks.

You think for a little bit. "Maybe two." You smile, kissing his head. "what about you?"

"Maybe two." He says, repeating your words.

"Our kids would be friends!" You say, happily. "Best friends, like mommy and daddy."

> They would be siblings < He thinks.

The movie finishes, you pick your the empty bowls and cups. Pablo observes your movements, still daydreaming about you.

He helps you clean, washing the dishes while you save the food that was left. You finish ordering the things in the refrigerator.

"I have to go home." You say, checking your phone. "Mom is moody and I don't want to deal with that."

He needs to do it.

Do it, Pablo!

"Can I talk to you?" he clears his throat. "It's really important."

You look at him. "Are you okay?" You ask, worried about his nervous state.

He takes a deep breath. "I need to tell you something. Let's get out off the kitchen."

You two walk to the living room, Pablo was taking deep breaths, eyes not able to find your from how nervous he was.

"Pablo, you are making me nervous." You say, grabbing his hands. "Are you okay? You know you can tell me anything." You encourage him.

He sighs, squishing your hands. "I know you allowed me to be back into your life, and you and I are now back with your conditions."

You frown, not understanding his rambling. "Are you not okay with our agreement?" You say, sad tone. "Wh-"

"No, it's not that, preciosa." he replies quickly. "I just, I need to confess something to you."

Your body tense, you think the worst. You think he would tell you that he doesn't want to keep with the friendship because he's not comfortable with the things you established.

"You can tell me anything." You smile.

"After the party." he began. You make a face because of the mention of the party. "I know I was really rude when I told you I liked Paula. The reality is that I don't think I ever liked Paula. I think she was just my confort answer in case the thoughts in my head and in my heart were wrong."

"Your heart? What?" You let go of his hands. You already know where this is going. "What are you talking about?"

"Y/n, I like you. I always felt that way. I was a stupid little kid who fell in love with his best friend. But then you had your boyfriends and I knew you didn't felt the same." he confess. "and I accept that, becuause-"

"You like me?" You say, feeling breathless.

"I love you." he whines.

"Then why did you rejected me when I told you I liked you." You question him.

"I was afraid." he shouts. "I was so afraid that we would fuck things up, and I didn't wanted to lose you." he tries to get close to you, but you back off. "I don't want to lose you."

You don't know how to organize your feelings, you feel everything at once. Betrayal, happiness, sadness. But this is the moment.

"Pablo." You say, eyes finding his shiny ones.

He smiles, he knows this is the time he was waiting for since he first felt those feelings at 10 years old.

"You already lost me."

✨✨✨

🏷️: @htpssgavi @rikfkf @gadriezmannsgirl @coco657 @cinderellawithashoe @pabl0andm3 @vscabarca @alexis1taylorr @anythingforourjoonie @nightmoon22

[howtofightwrite]

I'm writing a scene where character A gets ambushed by an assassin. A gets injured and starts bleeding out. B swoops in to save them in the nick of time, but A starts fading in and out of consciousness. B transports A using a horse-drawn carriage (setting is 1890's London, so no cars) to a safe place for medical attention. Would the carriage be safe enough for transportation or make things worse? Also, any ideas where the wound could plausibly be located on A? (Stab/cut, no guns.)

Okay, so this is a good news/bad news situation.

The good news is that blood loss is really easy to understand. If someone pokes a hole in you, and you start leaking, you'll generally keep leaking at a pretty consistent rate until you manage to stop the leak, or until you start getting additional holes poked in you.

Now, joking aside, moving around, and staying active can accelerate bleed out. Especially if you're engaging in activity that keeps your heart rate up. For example: Running, or fighting. But, normally, you're going to keep losing blood at a fairly consistent rate. (Now, it's worth noting, as you lose blood, your body will actually increase your heart rate to keep oxygen going to your brain. This means that the rate of loss isn't completely consistent. You'll also start hyperventilating.)

The fun part about blood loss is it can actually turn into a math problem. If you know the volume lost per interval, you can calculate roughly how long it will take to die. Just take 2,000, then divide that by the blood lost in milliliters per interval (so, for example, minutes), and then you will know how many minutes your character has before they bleed to death. (Technically you can go over that two liters lost a little bit. (In sloppy napkin math, this means that you'll slightly overestimate how long the character will last.)

Here's the problem.

Hypovolemic shock has four recognized stages. These stages are bracketed by how much blood you've lost. Stage one is up to 15%, Stage two is 15-30%, Stage 3 is 30-40%, and Stage 4 is 40% or more. You might know that the human body has roughly five liters of blood in it, and if you were paying attention you'll notice that two liters is 40% of five liters.

As a quick aside, Stage 1's only symptom is that you'll be a little paler than usual. Otherwise you're basically fine (even if you don't feel particularly great.) To put this in context, you can (almost) lose a liquor bottle's worth of blood without serious side effects.

Once you hit stage 2 and 3, you'll see some mental issues. Anxiety and restlessness at Stage 2, confusion and impaired reasoning at stage 3.

Loss of consciousness (and comas) are symptoms of stage 4 blood loss.

This is the bad news. If you are losing consciousness from loss of blood, you have already lost so much blood that your body (and possibly your brain) are already dying. Humans can lose a frightening amount of blood before it incapacitates them. And, that fun little math problem earlier, the time to death that you're calculating, is also the time to loss of consciousness, because there's a tiny margin between, you bled to the point that you're drifting in and out of consciousness, and, you have bled to death.

There's still some hope here, but it's not great. First aid for hypovolemic shock is to stop the bleeding. It kinda makes sense, because if you don't, they'll bleed to death and after that, it won't really matter. That means, if you're swooping in to the rescue, the first thing you need to do is stop the bleeding, as best you can. When you're already looking at someone in stage 3 or 4, you're not going to stop it in the field, and the best you can do is buy time. But that is a critical step.

This leads to a really important question. How long did it take your character to lose two liters of blood?

Because, if they lost that much blood duringthe fight (which is, actually possible with some arterial hits), there is no medical science that would keep them alive long enough to get them to a surgeon. Not in 1890, and even in 2024 it'd be touch and go with modern emergency trauma packs.

This is a mortal wound.

Now, if you slow it down, and they're bleeding out over the course of the ride, that's entirely feasible. You'll probably want to read up on the exact stages of hypovolemic shock, keep in mind that the stages do transition from one into the next. And, keep in mind that, “slipping in and out of consciousness,” is basically the end. At that point they're about to die. Immediate surgical attention could still save their life, but they need a hospital. This is beyond the scope of what a back alley clinic could reasonably deal with.

I know I didn't address it earlier, but, “where,” could be pretty much wherever. So long as it didn't sever an artery, because at that point they would be dead. Arterial nicks could result in serious bleeding over time. Really, any serious, persistent blood loss that refuses to clot could create a situation like this. Deep tissue penetration, particularly when it damages internal organs, can be pretty nasty, and surprisingly hard to stop a bleed. If someone is hemorrhaging internally, that's going to require surgical attention to keep them alive, and any effort to stop the bleed will really be wasted effort (because they'll continue bleeding into the chest cavity), though, unless your characters have a pretty solid grasp of anatomy, they're unlikely to know that.

The real issue here, from a practical application, is just the, “swooping in at the last minute.” If you're really coming in at the last minute, you've got a minute to make peace with their death, and move on. If you get there sooner, you have more of a scene. You have more options to spool out the drama, and subvert expectations.

Consider, alternately: Your character comes in to disrupt the assassin, and the pair make their escape. While escaping, the character who's been injured discovers they're bleeding. Leading their rescuer to realize that the situation is much worse than they initially thought, and having to change route to a hospital, while the injured character starts to become less coherent.

In this alternative, you can carefully track how quickly the character is bleeding out, so that they're getting into the hospital right around the time it's starting to become touch and go. With a real possibility that they'll die, either before or during surgery. (Also, with added stress that now your character needs to keep them safe in a public space, while that assassin is still on the loose, and they can't move the injured character to someplace more secure.)

So, you've got options, and now you've got a math problem you can play with to figure out how quickly your characters will expire after you poke new holes in them.

-Starke

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[krypticcafe]

Can please get fic where young reader almost gets r-word.. like! What happened to ellie on 'the last of us' like make it into that situation, reader kills the rapist and flees away and runs into the 141 team, and their like in this state of like panic, but they calm them down and they explain what happened they are beyond livid so they just reck hell on the people who was with the man who tried to r-word reader.

(this a platonic relationship between reader and the team)

Me and the Devil

rating: mature

pairing(s): platonic 141 x gn!reader

warning(s): no use of y/n, dead dove do not eat, non-explicit attempted r*pe, emotional and physical trauma, sexual physical and mental violence, canon-typical graphic violence, comfort

wordcount: ~3.8k

a/n: i'm not exactly sure what anon meant by young, but for context, reader is probably 20-22, I'm just not comfortable writing this kinda stuff for teen or child reader, I hope you don't mind. also, huge, HUGE emphasis on the warnings. though nothing is explicit and there are no sexual graphic terms, the descriptions and actions alone are still very disturbing and uncomfortable! and the violence is a little uncomfy for those not used to it, too. title is from 'Me and the Devil' - Soap&Skin

synopsis: You can see it. The devil. It laughs, and laughs, and laughs, mocks you for your childish stupidity and naivete. To think the angels would come marching in, that you'd make it out with any semblance of sanity. You can't fight it, you can't even hide from it. All you can do is lie in your grave.

Just hours ago, you were alongside the 141, cleaning up and wiping out an enemy base, a typical Tuesday on a summer afternoon. You should've known things would go downhill with how smoothly it was all going. Even Price commented on it with an air of wariness and suspicion. After all, it was a saying that if the fight starts getting too easy, then it's an ambush. And an ambush it was. You want to tell yourself that it was nothing, easy as pie compared to what you've been through. You wanted to say that it was a success and you turned the tables on your enemies. You wanted to say that it ended within a matter of minutes and that you were on your way back to base with your boys, ready for a night of banter at the pub. You'd join Ghost in watching Soap and Gaz try their hand at poker, taking a shot each time Soap's dogshit luck lost him another couple of euros while Price would pry Roach from having another cocktail and piss himself ('it was one time!' he slurs).

But instead, you're here. Locked in a room, bag over your head, tied to a chair, a stereotypical hostage situation but that didn't make it any less tolerable. Though having a potato sack over your head was nowhere near as embarrassing as the reason why you were captured. You tried your best to hold onto the jeep, honestly, you did. Until some ankle-biter decided to latch onto you and sink his teeth into your flesh, causing your grip to loosen and send you tumbling into the dirt. Your bodies slammed into the ground, kicking up dust and your opponent taking most of the fall damage for you. How thoughtful.

Seething at the audacity he had to chomp on your leg like some feral mutt, you gave him a piece of your mind and made sure he'd never bite another ankle again. His friends caught up the moment you were done. They dragged you back down to the coarse dirt and sand of the earth, making you taste and choke on dust. You looked at the lifeless figure in the sand, briefly wondering if you'd be wishing you were him before a bag was slipped over your head and tied like a collar. It didn't help that the sand on the roof of your mouth combined with your ineffective attempts to ration your breathing made for a burn worse than any hard liquor down your throat. Thrashing and shouting like a madman, you cursed them like some teenager who discovered swearing as they tossed you into the back of a truck, rolling you forth with the heels of their boots. Not your finest moment.

Once you were loaded and the rest of them climbed on, the truck shot forward without slowing down for a second, taking you to your own personal hell for the next few days. Knowing the 141, they were probably at the safehouse, planning their next move to retrieve you. In the time between interrogations and routine attempts to break you, you could imagine Soap and Roach pacing around the room, Ghost brandishing a knife with a dark look in his eyes, and Price looming over a map and pulling up contacts with Gaz at his side. While you hated to burden them with your own mistakes, thinking about them all gnawing their teeth in comical anger at your expense brought you momentary comfort, eliciting a small chuckle.

"Something funny?" Much to your ire, all your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of several people shuffling into the room. You could only expect so much privacy in a place like this. The man who spoke up seemed to carry himself like a leader, considering how he spoke above all others and you could hear him carrying out demands every now and then, checking up on you as if he actually gave a shit. And currently, he was on the top of your "to kill" list, along with every other cunt in this prison.

"What'll it be today, more screaming or more silence? You know, you can only stay quiet for so long." He sighed. Judging by the sound of metal screeching on concrete, he pulled up a front-row seat. With a single yank, you were again temporarily freed of the confines of the bag on your face, glaring at the man with a look of ferocity that seemed as if it were etched on your face permanently. His clothes were disturbingly clean-cut and polished despite the blood he spilled for the past few days. Your blood he spilled. "Come now... you know you'll only make things more difficult. Face it, kid, they're not coming, it's been days."

When you felt gloved fingers touch your jaw you snapped, pulling away like an animal restrained by a leash. Your captor let out a taunting "Oooh", and your skin crawled at how he heckled and laughed like some adolescent boy poking a rabid animal with a stick through its cage. "So it bites."

"Fuck you." You rasped.

"And it talks." The humiliation of their nonchalant attitudes made you seethe, you knew it was a tactic to get under your skin and you just wouldn't have it, turning your head away from the men.

"Uh-uh, eyes on me. How is such a fresh thing like you out fighting wars with men like them?" He hummed, gripping your jaw with a strength that took you by surprise and had you wincing. Even though his hands were gloved, it felt as if he were trying to dig into your skin. With no other choice, you were forced to look into his eyes, the pyres of unimaginable anger burning in yours.

However, it was then that you felt it. Something was off. Something was horribly off about him. The several times he'd come in here to either coax you with gentle words or have his men beat you within an inch of your life, he either had some faux kindness or gleeful malice painted across his face. But this time, his eyes were alight with slimy delight. You hated it, Hated how it made you feel small, cornered, pulling on your leash so that you couldn't be yanked from the one place that made you feel safe. You hated how it didn't feel like he was trying to get under your skin, or sink into your bones but instead your mind as if to violate it. You hated how it seemed like he had something more in mind, something that you couldn't predict like a kick to the ribs or a carefully worded reassurance that you'd be in "good hands". It was the one thing you felt like you had control over, knowing what was next, and now you didn't.

With a wave of his hand, his men all filed out of the room, leaving just him and you alone. One came back with a bowl in their hands and you felt yourself doubt your worries. Were you already beginning to lose it in here? "Hungry?" He smiled, taking the bowl and dismissing the soldier. It looked and smelled like a stew, potatoes, and beef, not scraps of stale bread or lukewarm, half-empty beer cans.

"I asked them to make something special today for you, isn't that nice? I suppose even someone like you has a taste for the finer things in life and wouldn't say yes to leftovers." No answer came but it was to be expected as he mixed the stew with a spoon. Your eyes were trained on his face instead, expecting some kind of strings attached. He entertained that expectation by—to your disgust—spitting into the stew, mixing it more, and bringing up a spoonful to your face. "Consider that the cost of being so picky. Open wide, soldier. Surely you won't make a fuss again, now will you?"

There was a pause, you leaned forward, lips ghosting the tip of the spoon before you roughly shoved his chair away from you with your boot. The bowl fell from his hands onto the ground, pooling between the two of you. He could go to hell with his stupid fucking soup.

He let out a scowl of disapproval, his self-satisfied smirk replaced with disgust and irritation like a parent to their troublemaking child. Fine with you, you didn't need that asshole's approval. He stood, grabbing a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiping his hands and the small splatters on his uniform. "Should've known better that the government's pets would act like such animals. I gave you a chance, I tried to make this easy for you." He snarled, tossing his handkerchief aside and grabbing you by the collar, "But no, you just had to be a fucking brat, huh? Fine, be one. I can work with that. Either way, you'll be put in your place soon enough."

Before you could comprehend what he was implying, he slashed the ropes that binded you to your chair with a combat knife and shoved you to the floor, your head throbbing as it hit concrete, along with the rest of your aching muscles. Vision blurred, you sat up and tried to make out what he was doing, falling back when he roughly grabbed your hair and shoved your head back down into the ground. Like an alarm, every single flight or fight response went off in your body and yet you couldn't figure out what he was trying, you just knew that this was something worse and that you were a fool to let your guard down for a single second.

A twisted smile broke across his lips, "You know, you have a very lovely voice. You sing the loveliest songs."

Your brows furrowed, confusion flashing across your face until you let out a yelp of pain when he pressed into your stomach, already bruised from previous matters. He let out a sigh that made you shudder and you felt bile creep up your throat, moving your face to the side in fear that you'd choke on it.

"Eyes. On. Me." He snapped, his voice sounding so much louder than it actually was, his hand twisting your jaw back to look up at him while his fingers proceeded to dig themselves into whatever spots got you hissing and squirming away. That's all it took for your resolve to break, the blaze in your eyes fizzling out and replace with genuine fear and utter shock as you watched him straddle you and stare with a piercing gaze that trapped you. It forced your attention to stay on him, daring you to look anywhere else but him when that was all you could focus on. Him.

You couldn't even scream, paralyzed when you heard the sound of metal clinking against metal and the brushing of fabric, raw horror setting itself alight in your bones at how he loomed over you. At that moment, you swore you could see the devil itself laughing, cackling, mocking you in his eyes.

It was like you were seven again.

Scared, cornered in your room because you swore, you swore and sobbed and cried that you saw it, a monster in your closet. A dark, shadowy figure that'd taunt you merely with its existence and prayed on your downfall, drinking the fat tears you spilled and listening to your high-pitched cries as if they were music, eyes that you couldn't see but they could see you.

Others tried to convince you that it wasn't real, opened the doors, and closed them again, showing that there was nothing but cleanly folded clothes and hung-up jackets lined neatly along a rack. Every time, you'd feel a little more silly about your fears but anxious that they'd come back for more.

At some point, you nearly forgot about the monster altogether. It ceased to exist in your closet, but never your mind.

"Damn it, what now?!"

Pulled back into the present, you heard muffled speech with loud, obtrusive noises and more screaming and cursing from the man above you. He was faced with the still-closed door, talking to a soldier behind it. Instead of trying to catch up with what happened, your mind raced to its defensive instincts. Finding the spoon dropped from earlier, you reached for it with a strained grunt which caught his attention. Yet with a swift grab and thrust of your hand, you jammed the blunt handle of the spoon into his throat and screamed at him, your vocal cords ripping in deliriously satisfying pain.

Barely giving him a second to let out a final gasp for air, you flipped him over underneath you and yanked the spoon out, blood erupting out of the gash. Fire ignited in your veins and you balled your fists, giving him a taste of the rage of a caged beast with nothing left to lose, just the desperation to survive for more. It was a symphony of grotesque crunches of bone and ligament, and you yelled, screamed, and cursed with each impact at him, at the entire organization, at a godless world for making you live through hell. A pitiful yet gruesomely satisfying attempt to reclaim what sanity and control you lost in that room.

Blood and flesh coated your fingers like warm syrup, and you were sure your knuckles were split. Crimson red was a good look on a sterile uniform, you thought to yourself. The sight of your work made you realize it wasn't the devil in his eyes was laughing at you, but rather its reflection from over your shoulder, still gleefully singing and squealing with delight as it watched you indulge in pure, unadulterated wrath. Its tail wrapped around your neck, strangling you with delirium and bloodthirst, guiding you in your ear as you beat an already dead man to a pulp.

Taking a stand, its whispers remained in your ear, praising you and yet you felt sick looking at what was left of what you had done, of what was left of the man's face. His blood pooled around his shoulders, mixing with the stew into an unholy concoction, evidence that was a testimony to your suffering and to your sin. Using his combat knife, you cut through the ropes around your wrists, skin scratched raw and bleeding. Without a second glance, you took his gun and left the room.

To this day, you tell yourself that you crawled out of hell that day.

"Any signs of the hostage?" Gaz shouted over comms, holding off a room of enemies alongside Price.

The moment they had all seen your fingers slip from the jeep and saw you tumble away that afternoon was the moment they knew they wouldn't be coming back to base for a long time. Roach had watched in despair as he was so damn close to grabbing your hand, swearing that had he'd been a little quicker, you wouldn't be here. Soap had yelled for Price to go back but Gaz and Ghost both knew his hand wasn't going to turn that wheel anytime soon. All of them knew. They couldn't turn back, and you wouldn't have wanted them to either, not unless the entire team and mission were to be jeopardized. However, that didn't stop them from doing whatever it takes to get you back safe again.

"Negative." Ghost answered over the line, standing with Soap in a hallway painted with the blood of the opposition, bodies scattered like lifeless bags of flesh with no greater purpose than to rot.

"I have eyes on them, they escaped from captivity. Currently pursuing them!" Roach responded. He'd seen your figure run down a hall at an alarming speed, and when he followed you, he had a glimpse of the room and the spectacle you left behind, "The leader is terminated, too. Jesus, can someone get over here?! They're gunning it for the west exit and I can barely keep up!"

You were in fact, bolting for the exits, panicking the more you got lost and running so fast that you probably could've broken a record on base. Distant gunfire and blasts snapped at your heels like a pack of dogs, reminding you that if you didn't keep running, you'd be dead, you'd be torn apart and beaten just like their leader and fed to the wolves. Boots trampled the ground behind you like drums of death, the yelling of men ringing in your ears, a requiem to the inevitable. Run, just run, it's all you could do in this frenzied state. If you didn't you'd be helpless, you'd be put down like a rabid fucking animal. Run, even if your bones shook from the pain, even if flames licked at your torn muscles, even if it meant dying of exhaustion because anything was better than dying at the hands of those animals.

At last, you found the light of an exit, finally an escape from this asylum. Your heart felt lighter when sunlight kissed your skin only to be weighed down by getting slammed into, grabbed into a relentless hold. You screeched, shrieked, snapped, and sneered while the voices seemed relieved, almost happy at your capture.

"Don't fucking touch me-!" You screamed with animosity, practically frothing at the mouth, "Don't fucking touch me I'll fucking kill you! I'll fucking—"

"Friendly, friendly!"

Still growling under your breath, confusion flickered over your eyes. Why did it sound like... like...

"Captain?"

"You're safe kid," Price panted, as if he'd been running to chase you. He was chasing you. In all your hysteria, you hadn't realized that the group had been running after you for past minute or so, trying to call for you, get you to slow down. The only thing that worked was to just grab to and hopefully knock some sense into you or knock you out. "It's just us, see?"

Your gaze softened, taking in the features of the man before you. Despite the crossfire and fighting, somehow he still had such a kind look on him, puppy eyes that pitied you and kept you grounded. Turning your head, you saw the rest of the men watching you in concern, all tired but overjoyed nonetheless that you were finally back.

You were safe.

It was like a weight finally lifted off your chest, a pile of restrained misery and relief washing over you, and you wept without a thought to pride. Price whispered your name in a way that felt so comfortingly familiar, tucking your head into his shoulder and letting you muffle your sobs into his uniform. It was painful to hear your wails, the relief and the instability shaking off of you in waves. A part of you expected to be scolded, to be teased for messing up so badly with a simple mistake as letting go of the jeep but they didn't.

"You're in good hands,"

"We've got them covered,"

"They can't hurt you anymore, love."

"Do you have any major injuries?" Gaz asked, but you couldn't say a thing, clinging onto Price's jacket and crying like you were four years old and found by your parents after getting lost. Slowly and gently, Price pulled you from him to examine you, and that's when he saw it. It didn't take long for the others to notice as well. Your clothes were torn and belt undone. While no physical harm was visible, knowing what happened was enough to make Price tick.

"Roach, get them to the car and give them some spares ASAP. Everyone else with me, we're cleaning out the place." Everyone else had the same dark look in their eyes, one that sent shivers down your spine but encouraged you once more you were secure now. While Roach escorted you away, you peeked back to see them disappear back into the building. After you changed in the car, you could hear the distant gunfire and screams, shutting your eyes closed tight, making an effort to drown out the thoughts.

"You okay?" Roach frowned. he had apologized to you a dozen times over on your way to the car and explained all that happened after you were taken, which you appreciated him for and insisted it wasn't his fault. But he was sweet and stubborn, bandaging your wounds and telling you he'd make it up by giving you his dessert for the next month, a gesture that made you smile for once in a while.

"Yeah, yeah just... hope they're safe." You breathed, sinking into your seat with the rest of your thoughts. Though you cried once more, quietly this time and on Roach's shoulder. He was cautious not to initiate too much physical contact, holding your hand only when you asked for it.

The building was silent, not a single soul left to be reaped by the 141. They all regrouped around a body that was beaten beyond belief, to the point where the face was unrecognizable. Regardless, they knew who it was.

Gaz broke the silence, "You think they did this?" They all looked at each other, not wanting to imagine what happened to lead to this point.

Ghost nodded, a confirmation of something they already knew but wanted to mutually agree on. "No one else could've made this much of a bloody mess. HQ's going to have a field day with this. Can't say that he didn't have it coming for him, though."

"And well deserved, too." Soap spat. Price continued to look down on the figure on the floor without any thought to it. Not anger, disappointment, or spite, just disregard. Headquarters would be interested to hear what happened, but he could care less about the report. All that mattered was that loose ends were tied.

Minutes later, the men all piled up in the car again, setting for the road back. You woke from your half-asleep state, rubbing your eyes. You were met with a soft smile from Soap, who ruffled your hair. "You alright there, sleepin' beauty?"

Humming in acknowledgment, you nodded and glanced out the window to see the road whizzing by, the building growing smaller and smaller in the distance. Some dingy warehouse. So that was the hellhole you were stuck in for a near week.

"Dinnae think 'bout it too much," He followed your gaze and nudged your boot with his, "When we said they can't hurt ye anymore, we meant it."

"Yeah," You quietly mumbled, leaning back on Roach, who had fallen asleep and leaned on Gaz for support. "Can smell it on you guys."

That got a rumbling laugh out of Soap and even a little headshake from Ghost who sat in the passenger seat. Looking at the rearview mirror, Price was looking right back at you, eyes flickering to the road occasionally, "Get some rest. It'll be a long ride home."

You nodded like a little kid with a mumbled "yessir" and drifted off once more. For the first time in forever, you feel like you can breathe and ground yourself, no punishment, no torture, nothing to haunt in this rare bit of calm. You didn't feel the pain of your sore muscles, you didn't feel that your body was filthy, you didn't feel small and scared, not anymore. Just surrounded by nothing but a familiar feeling of safety and lulled to sleep by the sound of the engine that took you home.

a/n pt.2: had a tough time writing this one but hey, I think I managed! to be honest, though, I'm not super confident about the ending and proofread this while half-asleep, but I'd love to hear some thoughts about it. shoutout to the people who noticed any reoccurring themes.

[project-sonadow]

My [15M] rival [15/50M] has been weirdly aggressive towards me ever since he lost his memories for the second(?) time. Should I be worried about him trying to kill me again?

Summary

A post on r/relationship_advice by u/Chili_Dog1991

EDIT 1: Stop saying I'm Sonic I'm not.

EDIT 2: Okay I am Sonic. I don't see how that matters.

EDIT 3: Stop trying to figure out which of my rivals this is.

EDIT 4: Stop telling me to contact the police about his attempts to murder me or his age. It's complicated in regards to his age but he's essentially 15 and I can already defend myself way better than the police can in regards to his murder attempts. Also the police would probably try to arrest me too because they're either useless or make things actively worse.

EDIT 5: Stop DMing me to ask how murder attempts can be fun. I shouldn't have to explain this.

EDIT 6: Stop implying I'm a masochist.

EDIT 7: Stop implying I'm an adrenaline junkie. If I just wanted adrenaline I've got tons of other people who could give me that.

EDIT 8: To everyone who actually responded with advice, thank you. I attempted to talk to him about it, we fought again, and it turns out he's been acting aggressive because he doesn't know how to show affection so he just defaults to violence. We ended up holding hands after we physically couldn't fight anymore. It was a great night and I think we're together now.

EDIT 9: Which of you motherfuckers sent this to Tails.

ORIGINAL POST

Hi everyone, using a throwaway account to make this post because my little brother knows my main and the embarrassment would kill me if he ever saw this. 

So for context, I've known this guy for a while now, at least in the context of my life. I've got a pretty hectic life and I'm a traveler, so I've met a lot of people and he's one of the few that's been able to keep up with me. Our first meeting was during a bit of a stressful time because he kind of inadvertently framed me for thievery (we look kinda alike and the police are stupid, it's not his fault but I was pretty pissed at the time) and got me arrested, so we ended up fighting about it in the middle of the street. I'm used to fighting and pretty good at it, so it was a surprise when he turned out to be basically my equal at it, which is pretty rare even among my other rivals. He got the upper hand on me for long enough that the police were able to arrest me again. I was pretty mad but also impressed. Our second meeting was even more stressful because I had just got out of jail after being arrested for the second time, and I was still angry about it so we fought again. I was about to win but then it turned out we were both in danger along with some friends of mine so we both left as fast as we could. Both of these times I could tell he was taking the fight seriously, but I could also tell he wasn't trying to KILL ME kill me. Y'know?

Anyway, in our next meeting he was definitely trying to kill me. Outright said it to my face. I won that fight thankfully, and I'm not even angry about it because a lot of people have tried to kill me over the years and also he has some kind of goal I was getting in the way of, and he didn't even succeed. He ended up changing his mind about that goal though, and when we next saw each other we were on the same side trying to deal with a mutual threat. 

And it was at that point I kind of realized I was in love. I've never really wanted a relationship because I thought it would get in the way of my lifestyle, but with this guy specifically it wouldn't be a problem. I would have told him about it, but then I thought he died and I didn't see him for a while. I wasn't too broken up about it because we only knew each other for a couple days, but I was still sadder than I thought I would have been.

He ended up coming back to life though, and he had lost his memories for the second time in his life (long story I'm not gonna get into) and he didn't really remember me anymore. I know from a mutual friend of ours that he remembered me well enough to be annoyed by my name, which made me irrationally happy, and I think he did end up getting his memories back, but when we first saw each other he definitely didn't know who I was. We fought again, it was a tie, and then we ended up teaming up to take down a mutual enemy again. 

Things have been a bit less chaotic since then. We've fought a couple more times but nothing serious, he's saved my life, I've saved his, you know how it goes. We haven't really talked about anything that happened, but that's fine because neither of us have ever been much for verbal communication and we understand each other just fine. I've tried getting over my crush on him, but that's never really worked because we see each other a lot due to our lifestyles and we have some mutual friends in common, and I like spending time with him anyways, even if we're just beating each other up most of the time.

Personality wise, he's basically my polar opposite, but we get on pretty well despite that. I think aside from my general attraction to danger and his ability to match me in a fight and a race that might be the main thing that draws me to him. I've got a lot of friends, but never one so different from me and yet so similar. He's just always been special to me.

But the main reason I'm making this post is because despite all we've been through, he still acts like we're enemies at worst and temporary allies at best. We fight almost every time we meet unless something less serious is going on, and he's pretty grumpy and mean to me all the time. I like this about him, but it does make me question if he even sees me as anything more than a rival, and I don't know how to ask him because we don't talk about weird emotional stuff. I also think that asking him directly could maybe lead to another murder attempt, which would be fun, but it's not what I'm looking for anymore. I don't mind all the fighting, but just once I'd like to kiss him on the mouth instead of punching his teeth in, y'know?

[thelordfool]

HELP ME PLEASE!!!!!

Long story short: I'm unemployed and will not, unlike what I originally thought, qualify for unemployment benefits.

Please read the readmore for additional context on why I'm unemployed. This post is basically a continuation/update/redo of this post. I'm suffering a sickness with no medicine the past week, applied for almost 100 jobs the last two weeks, am disabled/queer/nonbinary/tired of ebegging. I'm also in the negatives in my bank account because my car payment came out, so I need to get that covered.

pp/vm/ca

$250/$1151.51

i need at least $511.51 of this by the first. please spread if you're financially unable to help, every person this reaches helps! here's the breakdown of the costs: $640 - car payment + late fees $380 - rent $131.51 - negative amount in bank currently

Oh hey thanks for stopping by to read this annoying tale of woe and being angry at capitalism. Prepare for wall of text.

I once had two jobs. The first job, at a chain restaurant, was a bit of a clique-y experience where I was working my damndest to be the best bartender they ever had. I still have all the cocktails memorized. However, I continually faced discrimination in the form of severe misgendering, no matter how often I corrected them. I was also set up for failure. Usually, when someone gets hired for a position, there's some amount of training to be done, no matter how experienced they are, right? I was going in nearly entirely inexperienced into the role. I knew how to make cocktails, sure, and was and still am very good with people and selling. But I was trained for two days. Two. Then, on my first night alone (a Friday), I was watched by one of the bigwigs at corporate who saw every little flub and failure. This caused a demotion-ish. I was demoted to barback but was allowed the same privileges. Until their next visit. That upset the hell out of me - I was well trained by that point and could do it all, with one hand tied behind my back. I digress. It was about 2 months following my demotion when i finally walked out. A new bartender had been hired and she thought I was being a total creep by looking at a ticket that had just come in. She stormed off to report me to the manager who, even after hearing my side where I had asked her if there was anything on the ticket that I could grab, said that I "needed to communicate better," and "you should be learning from her," and "you're a grown man, you should know better." I don't think I need to explain why that was so upsetting.

But I didn't report them, because I just wanted to be done with it. I was also working another bartending job, and everythign was literally perfect other than the hours, honestly. I loved the product the distillery made, I loved the people I worked with, and most of all: I had my own regulars. Last month, they hired a new hospitality director, who announced there would be some restructuring, including getting rid of servers while also making a full dinner menu to serve alongside drinks. I said nothing of it, despite my disagreements, and she assured us all that no one would lose their jobs, but just moved into different roles. We all kinda grumbled about it, and I told her that under no circumstances would I work back of house. Easy peasy. Till it wasn't, and I came home to a voicemail while on break with my partner that I'd been let go due to the restructuring. So much for no one losing their jobs, right? I hadn't been the only victim of this. I have my suspicions as to why the new hospitality director did these things, but I've no energy to throw around conspiracies. All I know is that I was shafted by both of these places and I'm tired of being broke. I'm applying, still going to fight, and... sigh.

tl;dr (why did you click the readmore?): i left a job due to discrimination and lost another due to company restructuring and i'm tired and sad and aaaaa.

[ethanhuntfemmefatale]

@interropunct some emotional trauma for you

just discovered the image of jim with his hand on the back of ethan's neck. i have completely manageable emotions about this

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Hi!! I love your writing!! Would it be possible for your thoughts on Ford/stan with a girlfriend who is a therapist or psychiatrist? (I’m studying psychology so this is a totally self indulgent ask!) thank you!! 🫶🏼

A/n: Ok! I'm sorry these took long

Stan/Ford pines x therapist!reader

Ford Pines:

Ford is instantly intrigued by your profession. He’s always been interested in how the human brain works, and having a girlfriend who understands the mind on such a deep level excites his curiosity.

He loves asking you questions about psychology, sometimes treating your discussions like he’s learning from a textbook.

“So, if someone were to experience prolonged exposure to isolation, how do you think that would affect their psyche?”

Ford absolutely loves to hear your insights on everything from mental health to obscure psychological theories, often adding his own knowledge of psychology.

Ford greatly values your calming presence. As someone who has gone through trauma from his interdimensional travels, Ford finds comfort in how you can guide him through his anxieties and ground him during his moments of overthinking. It’s not that he’s asking for therapy, but the way you talk and listen to him brings him a lot of peace.

Sometimes Ford gets lost in his head, overanalyzing everything or diving too deep into his research, and you’re the one who pulls him back. You know just how to approach his worries without invalidating them, and he’s beyond grateful for that.

“You always know exactly what to say to bring me back to reality. How do you do it?”

He’s particularly interested in your take on the psychological impact of interdimensional travel or exposure to anomalous phenomena.

He’ll often turn to you for discussions about the mind’s adaptability and resilience. You’ve become his go-to person for talking about the human condition in the context of the strange.

Ford is also incredibly supportive of your career and education. If you’re studying or need quiet time to work, he’ll make sure you have the perfect environment to focus. He’s always ready to offer encouragement when you’re feeling stressed.

“I know it’s a lot, but if anyone can do this, it’s you. I’ve never seen someone so dedicated to understanding the complexities of the mind.”

Ford loves sharing intellectual moments with you, like reading papers or discussing recent psychological studies. Sometimes, he even helps you with your work by giving you unique perspectives from his travels, and in turn, you help him manage the more stressful parts of his past.

Stan Pines:

Stan doesn’t fully get what a therapist or psychiatrist does at first (he’s used to handling things by “toughing it out”) but he quickly comes to appreciate how insightful you are.

“So, you talk to people about their problems? Gotta hand it to ya, you’ve got a lot of patience. I can barely deal with the customers.”

Stan is amazed at how you can listen to other people’s issues all day and still come home well. He’s constantly in awe of how much you care for others and how you help people through their darkest moments.

“You’ve gotta be some kinda saint to listen to people’s problems all day and not go crazy yourself.”

He loves that you don’t push him to talk, but when he does, you listen attentively. You’ve taught him that it’s okay to share his feelings without making him feel weak. Sometimes he’s caught off guard by how much better he feels after talking to you.

“Huh, I guess it’s not so bad… all this feelings stuff. You really know how to make a guy feel better.”

Stan appreciates your ability to see through his tough-guy act. You can read him like a book, and while it’s a little intimidating, it’s also a relief. You pick up on the small things, like when he’s more stressed than usual or when something’s bothering him.

“How do you always know what’s goin’ on in my head? It’s like you’re a mind reader or somethin’. Say how bout we put that to use in the shack? I'm joking, unless you want to.”

He loves to brag about your career, even if he doesn’t always understand it.

“Yeah, my girl’s a therapist. Helps people sort out their problems. She’s smart as hell. I dunno how she does it, but it’s pretty impressive.”

If you’re ever feeling overwhelmed by your work, Stan is the first to encourage you to take a break. He might not know all the details of your job, but he knows how important it is for you to recharge. He’ll pull you away from your books or laptop and suggest watching a movie or doing something fun together.

“You’ve been workin’ hard all day. Come on, let’s kick back and relax. You deserve it.”

He’s a little protective of you, especially if you’ve had a rough day. If you come home stressed after dealing with a difficult client, Stan will be there to comfort you in his own way, whether that’s making you laugh, cooking a simple meal, or just sitting beside you.

Stan will occasionally ask for advice, though he’ll frame it casually. “So, let’s say someone I know has a lotta stuff from their past they don’t like talkin’ about. What’d you say to help ‘em out?” He trusts you more than he’ll admit and values your wisdom, even if he’s not always ready to face his own feelings head-on.

A/n: you give them therapy they need, the end ^^

[thefirstlioveyou]

what's with all those people walking passed our screens at rink o mania/the airport??

a initially believed these people were used just to distract us from mike and el's moment at the airport. i thought it was so weird that people were just covering the kiss. wouldn't you want us to see that? i guess they don't want us to care!

then i realized these people KEEP covering my damn view even after their kiss, and it continued even at rink o mania. it had to be a pattern.. and then i noticed. these people are only passing on shots that focus on mike. given all the evidence mike is being watched through the camera work, i believe these are just more evidence of so.

these people aren't being used to block out mike and el or block out anybody - they're there to single out somebody. something's watching mike at rink o mania and the airport.

(i'm gonna mostly provide ss because the scenes are obviously too long. here's what i've collected)

this specific shot (below) is so creepy. mike is the focal point, with his back turned to us - to the stalker. mike has no idea he's actively being watched as he's trying to be someone he's not - a shitty knockoff if you will lol. he thinks he's fooling everybody. but whoever or whatever it is that's watching, they ain't fooled at all. they're seeing it ALL.

these people continue to pass the camera even when they get to rink o mania

ah. yet again - mike is dead center. this is obviously love triangle imagery. but since we're starting to understand these are also stalker shots thanks to the walking people, this also represents as the stalker's main focus - mike.

and here too. we know he is the focal point of the shot here because the camera follows him and his pace. (also his bright ass fucking shirt is kinda hard to miss lmfao. which makes me think... could another reason why his shirt was yellow was to highlight/single him out for these shots?)

then we get the people during byler's fight - where mike also happens to unnecessarily clarify they're platonic and only platonic - as well. however this time it is more of an overall observation of the both of them

"but they're in public. it's just there to add to the environment and make it feel alive."

well.. yes. extras can be included to make the scene feel more alive. but all these people walking passed the screen is too distracting for it to just be there to liven the scene. there's more creative intent beyond that here. when you have said extras walking past your camera and blocking out your actors - and consistently on top of that - it's meant to inflict an emotion or tell you something. what emotion is all dependent on the context.

it can be used to create a feeling of being lost or making your audience feel crowded along with the character on screen. but obviously, here we aren't meant to feel either way. with the combination of the extras walking passed our screen and the focus on mike casually reuniting/having personal conversations, there's a feeling of intrusion here. what's happening isn't any of our business, yet we are still watching - something's still watching and it's watching with a target and goal in mind. It's looking for information.

we also know it isn't a coincidence because it's a reoccuring pattern with mike. we constantly see shots of him from weird angles and weird distances that make it seem as if he's being watched by something. this is just another piece of evidence to add to the folder.

[watermelonlovershigh]

i seen a trend online where the girl pretends to have a tampon stuck in her and asks her boyfriend if he's get it out. do you think you could write something like that with harry in it?

-🌼

TikTok Prank on Harry /blurb/

AN: i think that trend is very telling on what kind of partner these women have lol. love that trend but some of them i feel are staged. anyways i hope you enjoyed this and make sure to leave your feedback.

This story contains: mentions of a stuck tampon, mentions of blood, fluff, inuidos of sex at the end

{ husband!harry - softrry - no kids - current harry era }

word count: 662

You decide to do the viral tiktok trend on Harry where you tell him you got your tampon stuck and need his help removing it to see his reaction.

"Harry," you call from the bathroom, "can you come here for a second?" You'd seen this trend on TikTok where these women were pranking their boyfriends or husbands into thinking they got a tampon stuck inside of them to see if their partner would help them retrieve it or not. So of course you had to try this prank out on your husband.

A minute later the bathroom door creaks open and Harry asks, "Yeah?" once he steps fully inside. His view is of you wrapped in a towel, sitting on the closed toilet seat because you were about to take a shower. He thinks you look beautiful right now, but you'd be even more beautiful without that white fluffy towel you have wrapped around your torso.

Looking up innocently at your sweet, sweet husband, you fib, "So um, I kinda have a problem. You see, before my shower I was gonna remove my old tampon but I can't find it."

Harry looks at you with a confused expression. "What'd you mean you can't find it?"

Dragging the lie on, you continue, "The string, Harry. I went to pull it out but the string is gone. It must have went up too far inside me or something."

Now looking concerned, Harry starts, "So...." He's still slightly confused as to what you're needing him to do about your situation.

Huffing out of fake annoyance, you finally ask, "Can you help me? Like see if you can pull it out?" You're not gonna lie, you are kind of scared to know his reaction. He could be one of the sweet and generous partners you see in those videos where he's fully up for helping. Or he could be one of those partners who is disgusted by the idea of helping with that problem.

Without second thoughts, Harry steps closer to you and says, "Oh yeah, of course. Just gonna need you to tell me how far I need to reach my fingers up there." Okay, its confirmed. You did marry the perfect man. He begins to kneel in front of you and pulls his right sleeve up because he really thinks he's needing to help fish out your bloody tampon.

"Baby, baby, baby." you repeat over and over again, looking down with love in your eyes. You've got to stop the lie before it goes too far.

"What? M'gonna help you but you're gonna need to drop the towel and spread your legs." Though it sounds dirty out of context, you know Harry meant that with pure and innocent intent.

You reach forward and place your hands on his shoulders. "Baby, I was kidding. It was a prank. I don't actually have a tampon stuck inside me. I just wanted to tell you that to see if you'd actually help me if I really did have one stuck or not."

Relief washes over Harry's features because though he'd help you in a flash, he also wasn't excited about having to pull out your lost, bloody tampon. "Well of course I would've helped, love. How else would you've gotten it out, besides a trip to the doctors. I'd do anything for you."

You lean over and press a kiss to his lips which accidently makes your towel fall off your body. Harry grabs your hips to stabilize his squatting position and once the kiss turns into something more heated, you pull away and request, "Come get in the shower with me. I'm not actually on my period either."

Without much thinking, Harry quickly stands up and starts to shed his clothes off. He's never gonna pass up the offer of showering with his wife. "My love, I would have gotten in the shower with you even if you were on your period, you know." And when he's fully naked, you stand up from the toilet seat and walk hand in hand into the walk-in shower where your heated kisses continue and much, much more begins.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

[tainbocuailnge]

Another thing that's... kinda odd about the English translation is in the DRK quests, Myste says "A reckoning will not be postponed indefinitely", which is a big line in basically a secret route of the browser game Fallen London. and yeah, it is a cool line and neat to hear it in FF14... it also doesn't really work for Myste? In it's original context, it's about the remains of a dead demi-god-like being, which was cast into a well, seeking a reckoning and leading the player down a route which will irreversibly destroy their character in pursuit of dark secrets.

Which is not what the Myste sections of DRK were about at all, lol.

oh I could rant for hours about dark knight translations. that questline is actually why I first went to scope out the german script, because I heard drk wildly differs between english and japanese and that german generally stays closer to japanese than english does. I translated some of the fray parts here actually, though you'll note I'm a lot more forgiving of the english script in that one because i hadn't reached sidurgu's parts yet löl

german fray and myste are just completely different characters from english. german myste is upbeat and energetic. he loves people who help others and feels a strong urge to help them in turn. he spawned from the dark knight crystal in response to the loneliness of countless dark knights stored within it so he could console them and be their friend, he's basically the will of the soul crystal itself. he tries to alleviate that loneliness by facilitating reunions with lost loved ones but grows frustrated that this only leads to more partings, so he tries to expand his powers to maintain his illusions forever, because more than anything he just doesn't want to leave his dear friends the dark knights alone. he represents the childish wish at the core of every dark knight for a world where nobody has to lose anyone again.

in the part of the quests where you take myste to the sea of clouds there's this bit where in english he talks about his guilt complex and lets slip that this is also your guilt. in german he tells you that he was always with these people who fight hard for others, watching from the sides, until one day he heard a cry of loneliness and since then he's been trying his best to help people too. that's the moment that for me really hammered it in that these languages fundamentally disagree on what it even means to be a dark knight.

in english myste is desperate to atone for everything he's ever done and fray is your self preservation instinct who is kinda mad that you let it get this far, but they have to forgive him because you're all you have as you walk this lonely and bloody path that you have to believe is right. in german myste is your ideal, the desire to comfort those who have no-one else, crying that maybe it's better to forget altogether if partings can't be avoided and fray is your human heart who agrees that parting will always hurt but that is exactly where you find the strength to continue the fight, because it is worthwhile even if it never ends, and the path may be lonely but you will never walk it alone when there are people who came before you and who will come after you who all share this same dream of a kinder world. of course you won't have to leave us, you're our ideal, you're what we do it all for, as long as we remain dark knights you'll be with us. this all flows very naturally into drk-as-shadowbringers-class and ardbert's deal too but since I haven't reached shb in german yet I don't want to say anything extensive about it yet

i still think english drk was cooking with even your repressed feelings being repressed + the part of yourself that wants to protect itself obviously trying to protect itself and thus not wanting to show vulnerability so en fray postures as the stronger one who will protect you instead, and that fray writing in the journal (and only being able to be honest in a place where you're unlikely to look unless you don't know where to go) is incredibly clever. but in the context of how english treats sidurgu and just the way they handle the entire rest of the game really i also don't think that they were intentionally going for this kind of subtlety, it feels to me more like they just thought sincerity is cringe like usual and decided to make everyone cool and edgy (and thus needlessly mean to each other) instead.

and yeah english fucking loves to just yoink lines from other media whether it's appropriate or not. they turned zenos' final words to wol into a hamilton reference in english, "my first friend, my enemy" is a hamilton line, he doesn't ever call you his enemy in any other language (in german he calls you his hunter though which yes is incredibly horny of him). I'll admit I'm not in a good position to judge whatever epic references the german script makes because I'm unfamiliar with german language popular media so I won't spot them unless someone else points them out but I do know that when german fray quotes fight club it just enhances their characterisation as trying to sound cool and intimidating but failing because they're really kind of lame and awkward and can't hide how stoked they are to hang out with you.

[hannigramislife]

Saw your thoughts on dazai ships and wanted to hear about your take on akutagawa ships.

Entrapta voice: You're asking me about my theories?? I've waited years for someone to ask me about my theories!

Hello friend! Thanks for the ask! I love talking about Akutagawa, he is my heart and soul, so this will be fun! I will take the chance to also thank you about your interaction with my posts, it makes my day ^^

Now, let's get into it!

Shin Soukoku (Akutagawa/Atsushi) - This is everything to me. Absolutely everything. They're in love. They're soulmates. They were created by the same ring of laughter. An angel lost its wings and they both fell in Yokohama, waiting to be reunited. Sskk is the definition of "whatever souls are made of, his and mine were the same." I cannot accurately describe how happy they make me. I can't even give a coherent and objective reasoning as to why they're the best ship ever, they just are. "Just the two of us? / Do we need any more?" WHY ARE YOU RECITING YOUR WEDDING VOWS NOW, GOD–! Anyways. 1 billion/10.

Chuuaku (Chuuya/Akutagawa) - Similarly to my other post, I don't get people who have a problem with this ship. It's cute, it's beautiful, it makes me happy. I talked to my friend about this issue once; like, why is multishipping not a thing in this fandom?? Maybe I want to jump around dynamics??? Can skk give me friends to lovers?? No?? Great, Kunizai it is. Like, why can't we let people ship other shit than skk and sskk?? Anyways, Chuuya and Akutagawa care for each other, there is mutual respect, they would be a great comfort to one another. I say valid, 10/10 ship.

AkuHigu (Akutagawa/Higuchi) - I love, love, love this ship. Love them. They're so cute?? Like, I'm a die-hard sskk fan until I die, but I would LOVE to see more of this ship. The scene where Higuchi goes to save him?? Where Akutagawa gains consciousness and the first thing he does, before he can properly gather his senses, is apologize to Higuchi?? Also, the whole episode where she's stalking Gin because she thinks she's dating Akutagawa?? Their interactions in Wan?? I actually fucking love them. Every time the focus is on them, I feel like I'm watching a shoujo anime. Higuchi makes me think that Akutagawa would be a romantic. I need more of theeeeeem. Literally they're born to shoujo and forced to shounen. 10/10.

Dazaku (Dazai/Akutagawa) - Since I expressed my frustration with the fandom regarding this in the Dazai ships post, I will focus on my opinions about this ship. Honestly, it makes me feel kinda awkward? When I think of them in a romantic manner? Feels just a little bit like missing a step. However, it's an interpretation I would be open to if I could be convinced that Dazai actually, you know, likes Akutagawa? Like, you know that one scene in Lady Bird that's like "I wish you liked me / You know I love you / But do you like me?" That's how I feel the dynamic is between these two. Yes, Dazai is hoping Atsushi will be good for Akutagawa, and yes, he is happy Akutagawa stopped killing, and God knows what his plans are for the future – but do you like me? Valid ship context wise, neutral territory, I just need a little more from Dazai before I can make a final ruling.

TaniAku (Tanizaki/Akutagawa) - LISTEN GUYS. LISTEN. I BLAME BEAST FOR THIS, BUT THESE TWO ARE SO, SO, SO IMPORTANT TO MEEEE. I unironically love them. I don't care that Beast is the only canon I have to work with for this ship; it's so good. Like, the way Beast Tanizaki understood Akutagawa?? The way he supported his revenge mission from the get go?? The way he stormed the Mafia HQs and fucking held an assassin hostage just so he could help Akutagawa?? Ride or die. That bitch. I would actually die if I saw them interact in canon. Like, that's your bestie in another life. 100/10. I need them. It is a need.

TachiAku (Tachihara/Akutagawa) - I have no serious thoughts about this, to be honest. I think it would be lowkey hilarious. I haven't had nearly enough interactions between them for me to get attached to this ship in any way. Plus, now that we know more about Tachihara's...real self, I would love to see more of these two! I am going to allow this ship, and hope to see these two at least fight by each other's side in the future!

I think that's it for the most popular ones, please let me know if I forgot any ships!

[theconstantsidekick]

i'm here as a hater.

i watched red white and royal blue and i'm here to be a hater.

i was having such a great time on tumblr, looking over people's posts and then i went to letterboxd to leave a review and my fucking god. why are there so many people bashing this film for being a bad adaptation. worse yet, why are they queer?

i understand, trust me, i completely understand loving a piece of media and waiting impatiently with bated breath to watch the adaptation of it into another recognisable medium. i'm a mortal instruments girlie, i'm a last of us girlie, i'm a fault in our stars girlie, i'm a watchmen girlie. i get it. i do. sometimes maybe good, sometimes maybe shit.

but bruv, i am also a person who works in the film industry and you have no fucking clue the amount of effort it takes to make a film let alone a film that's an adaptation of a pre-existing, utterly loved piece of fiction that is revered by so many. and this movie goes one step further. this is a cheesy, cutesy rom-com about a queer couple. how many of those do we even have? no. really. how many hopeful, easy-going, cheesy queer rom-coms have you watched? can you count them on one hand? do you need a google search to remind yourself of them?

this film is a rare commodity and fine, maybe that's not a good enough reason for you to be 'lenient' to it... but it kinda is. no adaptation will be perfect, not really, not for everyone. every piece of media has it's flaws but adaptations most of all. but this film does something that you cannot dismiss simply because your favourite scene wasn't in it. personally i so miss alex's speech before the election results are announced. i miss ellen's powerful and amazing speech when she does win. i miss june, i miss raphael and i miss leo, and the powerpoint presentations and i miss cornbread knowing alex's sins.

but none of that will ever take away from the beauty of being able to sit in front of my laptop and watch the most intimate queer love scene i have ever laid my eyes on. it just won't.

anyway.... i'm rambling. the point that i was trying to make before i got lost in all this, was that you are obviously allowed to hate on the movie but like... be kinder about it? don't hate it because it's not a straight up remake of the book. don't hate it because it's cheesy. idk man, just hate kindly, if possible.

this is a huge step for us.

i don't want the response to this film to seem negative in a way that gives the (already reluctant) studious more reason to not make queer media for queer people, you know?

there will come a time in this life where we can hate and critique queer media without worrying about all this context but we're not there yet?

so i guess, like henry, i'm also asking for y'all patience.

however, whoever fucking said that nick and taylor don't have chemistry can suck my huge ugly metaphorical dick. fuck you. they made me week in the knees.