#call me a coward but I value my sanity

[abba-enthusiast]

Taking the bus in the morning is one of the bravest thing a girl can do

[mineofilms]

voluptas indignationis

This all stems from a series of bulletins posted on the social media platform SpaceHey.com where I was attacked by multiple people; doxed and also they went after a family member. Not okay…

"Passive-Aggression: An infuriating behavior where people express hostility indirectly, leaving you puzzled and annoyed. They cloak their resentment in subtle sarcasm or backhanded compliments, making you question your sanity. It's a maddening dance of veiled hostility that drives you up the wall." -ChatGBT (Joe Rogan Persona master prompt).

"Believing Their Feelings Come Before Common Sense, Critical Thinking and Logic."

That one line is what I am being attacked for, as far as Snarky and Heath are concerned.

"Why Are Conservatives the Biggest Snowflakes of Them All?" Passive Aggressive title to a bulletin by Heath ‘the brief’ - [SpaceHey Conservatives Are Weird] - Blanket Statement, he means ALL and shows no actual examples or even explains himself in an articulate way...

He uses passive aggressive tendencies using words/phrases like “a 'certain someone,'" where "certain someone" is a link to my profile. Again more Passive Aggression. Heath ‘the brief’ says he is a chill dude, doesn't start trouble. Yet, talks about people in a condescending way, but really means me personally in the negative. Doesn't call me out by name, but then says ‘a certain someone’ with a link to me in it. Could be sarcasm, but to me this is a prime example of being a petty beta male practicing all they know in the form of passive-aggression and for a man to be "this much" on the passive-aggressive scale is just such a Pussy-FK'n-move. Like no testicular fortitude whatsoever...

Testicular Fortitude: A metaphorical term praising bravery and courage, traditionally associated with male resilience. It signifies inner strength and fearlessness in the face of challenges. It's not about physical attributes, but the boldness to persevere despite adversity.

Heath ‘the brief’ does not practice any of this from his ramblings about me. Even girls that like me never pay me this much goddamn attention, Jesus LOL…

I did try to have a civilized conversation about all this, which I could have handled better, but I was pissed all to hell. We did have some dialog, but Heath ‘the brief’ is an under handing little coward that talks to me from a position of "who, me, what did I do?" I have my opinions. I over explain these opinions to such a level of a degree that if someone wants to challenge me on them, one is gonna have to match the energies, intelligence, logic, time, patience and research I put into those efforts. Heath ‘the brief’ cannot do this, so he takes to the bulletins and starts all this madness that later becomes hostile when a misogynistic SpaceHey user named RILLO posted my home address on the platform, all while Heath shrugs his shoulders and is all coy about it.

He says I blocked him. I do not believe I did, as we are messaging, but I actually do not know if I did physically block him from before or not. I doubt it since he was able to comment on another thread where this all started. He did start this. He just cannot handle it and had to have a comment about it and now we are here. Again, he commented on my comment, then I told him off and he throws a fit on his bulletin about it. He literally states this: "He's exactly the kind of riff-faff that should have stayed on Facebook and left us alone." ~Heath ‘the brief’

HUH? He commented on my comment and then went and wrote a bulletin about it. Leave you alone? What? All he has to do is leave me alone and poof, done... Yet, he calls me all these things, but I am not leaving him alone? At what point is it NOT okay to defend myself, my character, my conceptual value here? Especially, when my reasoning for my words is embedded in nearly 8 years of writing, research and development of these blogs… At no time has anyone here on the SpaceHey every paraphrased my exact words and then come to me and tell me these things. It is always some half ass insult with no evidence, no breakdown, no nothing. Just a Twitter-like insult.

I was never blocked, I did remove him as a friend not long before this because of his radical concepts of equality and no explanation at all outside of: agree or be called a bigot, again with no explanation that defines his reasoning on the subject. Hence the name Heath ‘the brief,’ because he only talks in little tweets and cannot have big-boy conversations with some articulation behind it. He tells me to go back to Twitter. Yet, his whole persona is that of a ‘tweaker’ (Twitter addict). He will play the game like he can, but then say hateful shit to justify why he cannot. I wonder what he is trying to cover up by that lack of personal resolve?

That is how they operate, no debate, no dialog. I am too brash, I too toxic. I am too masculine. I get that. However, brash or not you cannot turn logic upside down and tell people up is now the new down and if you do not except that, we'll get you...

A Handful of Concepts That Were Shared in This Bashing of My Character: 

Snarky Brewster: Hates anti-pedos…

Snarky hates me for something so petty. I removed her and blocked her for not using a real pic of herself and basically being a Karen. Oh look at how she does her business and you tell me if this isn’t a Karen? She really took my rejection of her to heart to spy on me for over a year using an alternative profile or friends like Heath, RILLO and Tooterz.

I absolutely do not support adults that prey on children for sexual gratification whatsoever, is what pedophilia is. I also distrust and loathe the extreme opposite of that and chose a really bad word to describe what I meant, which I have explained a few times now, but will explain it again.

I am not perfect. I make mistakes all the time. Especially, in grammar and word choice…

I hate the anti-pedos on SpaceHey, specifically, the adults pretending to be kids, pretending to be an adult, reverting back to a kid to attempt to trap people into having sexually charged conversations with minors. Not Okay...

Especially when these adults are not targeting potential pedos but rather targeting people with conservative-leaning, opposing viewpoints. Again, NOT okay...

I do not have a problem with people gatekeeping to protect children as long as their goal, mission, core belief is to actually catch pedos on this platform. However, to target people who have a healthy sexual appetite, loves to talk to women, younger, but adult women should not be the target of these often radical thinking gatekeepers who say they are trying to protect the innocence of children on here but really just want me and people like me, gone. They want my voice gone. My Points-of-View gone. I do not hate liberals in general. However, those radical, WOKE liberals that live online in these INTERNET subcultures that do not actually believe in equality, but yet, preach a version of it that caters to radical thinking minorities, the weak minded, the attention whores of the social spaces we call equal, but really should be called “shut up and obey.” They will look for anything in my writing style that they find could be a loophole to get me into trouble with the Admins on here and in every instance they have been shutdown. Because for all their efforts all they have to stand on is made up stuff and opinion, which is NOT evidence of bigotry, racism or even me having inappropriate conversations with females on here.

SpaceHey should be now titled “Eggshells…”

SpaceHey caters to these weird INTERNET-subcultures. One cannot just be celibate without being a cel of some sort. One cannot be just Trans without parading around like an idiot and yelling it to the world. One cannot enjoy the nostalgia of SpaceHey without calling themselves ‘a scene kid.’ 40+ year old scene kids? Really??? ALL the trans/gay people I know do not do this. They actually do not do anything to show their pride. It is pride month and all and the dozen or so LGBTQ people I am close with, do not celebrate this. Their pride is their life. Their pride is being able to live in a free country where they can be this way. Real LGBTQ people are not glory hounds, desperately seeking attention for their efforts. Most of them just want to exist with their partner. Go do stuff within both their living community and their specialized community of people in LGBTQ. What I am saying is real LGBTQ people do not ALL except the LGBTQIAA+/- community as a community that is looking out for them.

If I were Gay or even Trans and I saw some straight people parading around, mocking our lives, pretending to be trans, yell, scream, cry, hold up traffic, clog our social medias, invade our safe spaces, take our sponsorships, pollute our American grown businesses and do it all on the LGBTQIAA+/-‘s behalf, I'd tell them ALL to go FK themselves and find their own group to belong to. Most people that are real LGBTQ like this do not feel the LGBTQ community actually cares about the community. Just like BLM doesn’t actually care about Black Lives Mattering at all, but all about money, money and distraction. It is a FK'n scam for bizarre INTERNET-subcultures to exist in the first place.

“People are addicts… The real problem with a lot of what's going on –on Twitter. There's a bunch of people that I follow on Twitter that don't have anything to do with me they're just negative people and I don't even follow them follow them. I bookmark their page and then I go visit them because they're so FK’n crazy and I see them 12, 13 hours-a-day tweeting. It's straight Madness and it's 100% an addiction and the amount of interactions that they have that are negative. The amount of expressions they have that are negative are overwhelming; that is an addiction. It's an outrage addiction they're addicted to recreational outrage and the response to their recreational outrage. It's constant and consistent it doesn't vary. They're not learning anything. They're not growing… They're not expanding the way they communicate with me, with people, and becoming better human beings and more –more-kind human beings…” Joe Rogan

That above Joe Rogan quote summarizes what is happening here to my account on SpaceHey to the letter. Heath/Snarky/Rillo are the literal translation of this:

• Defined as "Outrage Addicts" - They're addicted to recreational outrage and the response to their recreational outrage.

• People I have nothing to do with.

• People I do not follow or have blocked or have me blocked on here.

• I do not visit their page or care about what they have to say. Besides the doxing and going after family members.

• The amount of interactions that they have that are negative? Be interesting to know wouldn’t it…

• They are addicted to being angry with people with opposing viewpoints.

The key thing isn't the response from these people. They are free to do so and should be responsive. However, how do they respond most of the time? "Believing their feelings come before common sense, critical thinking and logic." That one line is what I am being attacked for, as far as Snarky and Heath are concerned.

Snarky also makes another comment to a mutual friend where she says I was never doxed and that it was never there. Rillo is also claiming the same thing. However, why am I looking at a screenshot with the [a href="link to my home addressDOTcom" target="_blank" – “meet his brother that lives in the same house” /a] tag. If you all know some HTML coding, you know what this rough texting code is. In the photo the direct link is not expressed, but it is in the meta tag. The text is slightly blue, meaning it is a LINK and I have that link handy and it goes directly to my home address. That is doxing. Posting the direct quotes here, along with links to their page is not. I have it, it is here. Snarky boldly and openly lied and not just that, she did it knowing she was lying about it and still tries to sound innocent. That is the sort of broadcel she is. Haha, Broad-cel.

Broadcel – A middle aged Karen that lived in the days when men called women broads.

‘She was a skanky broad.’

–example. Snarky “Karen” is an UNDERSTATEMENT…

Tooterz - is RILLO's mate and her mental health issues are a lot of the reasons RILLO/Tooterz/Snarky are so well hated on this platform and on discord and they actually are... Just their little cel club of people think they are neat and cool... I have been messaged by so many people over the last year talking about these 3 people, specifically…

Others That Jumped In to Have Their Ignorant Say:

Matt – “This guy blocked me months ago, he's a racist and a sexist. He's against anyone that questions what he likes, and he's against anyone who wants the world to change. He's happy with the state of America and thinks anyone that wants it to change is wrong.”

Andy Anarchy - Says I use words like “WOKE to hide my bigotry.” He also likes Volbeat.

Where exactly do I NOT properly define the concept and word WOKE in my blogs? How do I hide any concept in my writings? Find the phrases where I demonstrate I am a racist and a sexist and it isn’t a sarcastic joke... Find the phrases in my writings where I am against opposing viewpoints? Show me where I say I am happy with the state of America and think anyone that wants it to change is wrong? Find the exact wording. Oh, wait, you won't find it. I Wonder Why That Is???

BECAUSE IT DOESN'T FK'N EXIST...

“WOKE is both a Subculture and Internet Subculture that attempts to make minority issues displayed as majority issues and those issues be labeled as normal and/or everyday ‘FACTS…’” I love when these TROLLS make these claims, but cannot ever actually define where/when I stated these things... Amazing... Yes, FK, I love OLDER Volbeat before the radio got to them. Must be a crime... Head check, not…

My BLOG can be seen, free, on my website: mineofilms.me/blogs anyone can go there anytime and find my words with the full context laid out. Any of those people, at any time can go there and look for themselves and they will never find that stuff because it isn’t there…

Please report these 3 accounts for slander and doxing. Thank You for all that still support me and listen to reason…

RILLO - https://spacehey.com/darkstar_ Tooterz – https://spacehey.com/q2tr Snarky Brewster - https://spacehey.com/SnarkyBrewster

  voluptas indignationis (Latin for recreational outrage) by David-Angelo Mineo 6/10/2023 2,526 Words

[http-tokki]

Hange's observation and report detailing the unanswered question: Is Levi Ackerman in love?

~ levi ackerman x fem!reader ~ tags/cw: fluff, friends to lovers-ish, third person from hange's pov, canonverse, sweet little moments, suggestive themes, hange's pronouns are they/them,reader is called Honey as a replacement for y/n. ~ wc: 1.7k

There was something different about Levi. Something so incredibly unlike him, so out of the ordinary that Hange had noticed. There weren't any conspicuous changes in his demeanour, but enough minor modifications in his daily routines that his longest and frankly closest friend had picked up on. From the meticulous perusal of each and every written command placed on his desk to the careful and calculated order in which he strapped himself into his gear. Was there some reason he valued his life more now than before? Had something or perhaps someone given him a new view on life and death? But for what, or more compelling option; for who? 

After two weeks of unwavering surveillance, Hange had found their answer. Striding into the dining hall, leather-bound and wax-sealed log book under their arm, they slammed the papers on the wooden table with an almighty boom. A startled gasp echoed around the nearly empty cafeteria; a handful of newbies scurrying out of the mess hall, chittering about the deranged look in their captain's eyes, but Hange was focused on the seniors before her. Muffled questions were thrown out, half-finished sentences lingered in the air as Hange turned over the documents and pointed at the title in big, bold capital letters. 

Is Captain Levi in love? A detailed report by Hange Zoe.

Protests rose for the table members, some even going as far as to stand up and attempt to walk away, wanting no part of this in fear of Levi's reaction, but as Hange started to weave the tale of their speculation, the cowards returned to their seats. 

There was no particular order to Hange's notes other than the order of the dates, and if anyone else had created this document, there would be a question of their sanity, but with Hange, there was a method to their rambling madness. Each date had a description of their findings, authors' notes and evidence backing the claim, and if this had been a scientific paper presented to the board, there would have been awards and accolades. Unfortunately for the scientist, the only ones interested in the love life of Levi Ackerman were the scouts sitting before them.  

The notes begin with:

-4/3: Night. 2130. Entry One:

 Levi is seen with Honey after dinner. They are walking together (just side by side, no hand-holding. Just two friends walking back from dinner). As they reach the end of the hallway, I fear I may have been spotted, but they are too engrossed in their conversation to notice me hiding in the shadows. I hear the words' sunset' and 'meadow'. What could that mean? I expect Honey to turn left and go to her room, but she doesn't! She turns right and walks towards Levi's quarters. Lovers? Friends? Lovers AND friends? They enter just after 2130 (2134 to be exact). I wait till 2230, but Honey still has yet to leave. I would stay longer, but my knees are starting to ache, so I will end this note here and return in the morning. 

- 5/3: morning. 0645. Entry two: 

 I have returned to my post and only have to wait a few moments before witnessing Honey and Levi leave his room together just before 0700. Honey is still wearing the clothes from yesterday (though she looks well-rested and not at all like she had stayed up all night filing and working). Levi is in his casual clothes (looking equally as rested). Perhaps they had been working and decided to call it a night; Levi does have a cot in his office (it is very uncomfortable, I speak from experience). Still no hard evidence, but I will figure out the truth! Until next time!

-6/3. Mid Day. 1150. Entry Three:

Honey brings Levi tea mid-way through a meeting. She knocks on the door and calls out to him with his professional title of Captain Ackerman. Interesting that it is not Levi or a pet name. I watch Levi's face for any hint of emotion, but there is nothing. No smirk or hint of a smile; he continues to read his papers as he calls her in. Perhaps they are just friends. But ho! how wrong I am! Honey walks into the room, holding a tray with a teapot, cup and saucer, and a small scone (None for Erwin or me, I might add, though maybe she was unaware we were here). There is a small piece of paper beneath the saucer. A love note? My guess is correct! As Erwin calls attention to a particular paragraph in a document and Levi confirms I am no longer focused on the two of them, he reads the note, smiles, and then turns to smile at Honey. I cannot catch a glimpse of the contents of the letter. Levi has folded it and slipped it into his pocket far too quickly. Levi then drinks the tea without complaint, even asking for another (something I have never seen him do. What is going on between them?) 

-10/4: Afternoon. 1520. Entry Four:

There have been a few interactions that could be viewed as purely platonic, but having known Levi as long as I have, I know that there is something more. During a quiet afternoon of desk duties, Honey makes a bold move. It is just the three of us in the small office on the fourth floor (maybe she forgot I was there, but I do not mind, just more evidence to add to my notes). Anyhow, Honey comes up behind Levi and places a hand on his shoulder to lean over and read the letter on the desk. Levi does not stiffen up or brush her off or move over, but rather, he leans in. It is a very minor movement, but I see the shift in his spine as he ever so slightly bends towards her. I do not move, do not breathe, I don't even blink until Honey moves away to grab a letter across the desk. Levi's eyes follow her as she crosses the office. I feel dirty, as if they had just taken off their clothes and mated right in front of me. I feel as if I have witnessed something so private I might get arrested, but I will keep watching because I need to know more. 

-12/4. Evening. 1905. Entry Five:

 Levi comforts Honey after a meeting regarding the latest casualties. Honey had begun to tear up as the list of names was read aloud. (most of the names had been kids she had trained, grown attached to, and grown to care for) Levi notices her quiet sniffle and takes a step towards her, but there is a quick shake of Honey's head that has him stopping and returning to his spot against the wall. The meeting ends a few minutes after that, and Levi and Honey hang back until everyone else has gone, and only then does he comfort her. Levi takes Honey in his arms as she starts to sob into his chest. Her arms wrap around his waist as she cries. Levi pets her hair and whispers something (they're too far away for me to hear). This could be platonic, though his kisses against her forehead suggest differently. Honey pulls back from his chest, looking up at him with watery eyes and a quivering bottom lip. Levi cradles her face in his hands and wipes her tears with his thumb before pressing a soft kiss on her nose. I'm assuming the gesture is supposed to make Honey smile, but it only prompts more tears, yielding more hugs and tender kisses. This interaction has their friendship bordering on something more. 

15/4. Mid Day. 1310. Entry Six:

Contrary to her solemn behaviour a few days ago, Honey is in good spirits as she bids Levi goodbye before he enters a meeting. As she hands him spare papers, she presses up on her toes and kisses Levi on the cheek (Honey is ever so slightly shorter than Levi, which he seems to enjoy). Levi smiles at the kiss and grabs her waist, pulling her against him for a kiss. A PROPER KISS! MOUTH ON MOUTH KISS! Levi presses his lips to hers for the briefest of seconds before pulling back to whisper something. I must have missed something as I wrote these notes because as I looked back up, it was just Honey walking down the hallway. The smile on her face is almost contagious. 

15/4: Late Night. 2320. Continuation of Entry Six: 

 BIG UPDATE!!! Possibly venturing into stalker territory, but I must know! It is after hours in the kitchen (2335), and I almost walk in on Honey and Levi. (thankfully, I stopped just before they noticed me, and now I sit in the shadows of the hall, watching and waiting) Honey is sitting on the counter as she watches the kettle boil. Levi stands across from her, two empty mugs on the table behind him. They are talking about something in whispers. Honey reaches out for Levi, opening her arms to welcome him in for a hug, which he accepts! He crosses the small gap and enters Honey's embrace. I cannot share many details as it is far too graphic, and I fled the scene before anything got too amorous, but what I saw last was Levi pushing Honey's legs apart and what I can only assume was her unbuckling his belt. (Authors note: get runts to double clean the kitchen) 

26/4: Morning. 0815. Entry Seven:

 I caught the two LEAVING Levi's room in the morning. When confronted and questioned, Honey mentions bringing Levi his morning tea, but after further investigation, no one had seen Honey in the kitchen. (nor were there any traces of tea in Levi's room) 

It is with this evidence, these documented findings, that I present the idea that Captain Levi Ackerman is in a relationship with Honey and not just a relationship but in LOVE with the other Captain. I will not be taking critiques, nor am I open to discussion on the validity of the subject. I have the proof, and I am one, if not the only, friend of Captain Levi. 

Yours scientifically, 

Hange Zoe. 

Hange's hypothesis was indeed correct. 

a/n: updated and edited. version 3.0 hehe

[eolewyn1010]

Jonathan starts out with a banger once again: "God preserve my sanity" - honey, that ship has sailed. He's developing some Stockholm syndrome regarding Dracula and still talking about how in the room where he slept "of old, ladies had sat and sung and lived sweet lives" plus some chauvi bullshit about how lost these women were without their men when we know by now 1st, that he has met ladies in this room this very day, so stop raving about the hypothetical middle ages, dude, and 2nd, they aren't exactly aching for Dracula to be around. There's a lot to unpack here, but I'll try not to overdo my usual brevity too much.

The ladies in question don't cast a shadow. Has Jonathan mentioned that only now? I'm not sure he ever noticed that about the Count.

The three women are nowhere called "brides" of Dracula. Do they have a sexual and/or romantic relationship with him at all? For all we know, they might just be his roomies.

With Jonathan noting that two of them have features similar to Dracula's, it's implied they are his relatives.

Is the brides thing on the table still? I mean, Stoker wants Dracula to be this xenophobic caricature of a sexually depraved oriental, so it wouldn't surprise me if incest is also on the table. *sigh* Stoker...

The gorgeous blonde is of course in command over the aquiline, dark, not-so-Aryan women. *grumble* Stoker...

Of course, he is a coward, because if he would have leaned fully into his uptight Victorian values, he could have made the "sexual depravity" the most explicit by having Dracula overtake the seductive part himself. Because for all Jonathan describes the ladies' looks in the same terms as the Count's, he definitely has the hots for these women. I'll leave that to the shippers.

Jonathan's spontaneous boner causes him brief conscience pangs because of Mina, but, eh, I think she's undressing by the fire with Lucy in the meantime. Things are also getting spicy in Castle Dracula - really, this scene is... erotic, but not in a comfortable way. Then of course, Dracula comes in and throws a jealous tantrum because that's his new boytoy, dammit! Seriously, he's all "how dare you touch him!" and "this man belongs to me!", and I'm sure we have left the subtext of queer dreams now. It's text; Dracula says to them he too can love, as they should know from the past (so they are his ex-girlfriends, yes? I'm a little lost in this half of the polycule). So, like, why bother with the additional, acceptable-to-be-sexually-desired characters at all when he says right there that he loves Jonathan? He even carries him to bed when the dumbass passes out. And undresses him. Anyway.

Dracula gives the three women a little child to eat instead of the fully-grown man snack they wanted, which I'm sure is not as nutritious, and also a scene that's farewell to all leftover comedy. It is a horror novel after all. Belatedly, our Victorian himbo comes to the conclusion that those were "awful women". Oh, really? And who was thirsting for them to suck you dry earlier on?

For the first time, I'm actually glad that there'll be a day break in-between. This chapter was... a lot.

[p-antomime]

dawn addiction.

— minors don't interact.

— wc: 3,3K

content + warnings: 18+, including: car sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, public sex (kinda of), unprotected sex, tummy bulge, pet names (dabi actually calls the reader "princess"), virginity loss (only mentioned), i bit of fluff bye

pairings: no quirk!dabi x fem!reader

— song: Press Your Number; by TAEMIN

After waking up alone one dark night without you sleeping next to him in the spacious bed placed in the middle of his room, Dabi catches himself thinking about you and feeling strange without having your warm body next to his in the bed. Thinking about Y/N was becoming a vicious habit for him and it was the kind of addiction that the more he fed, the more it seemed to swallow his sanity. However, he didn't blame you for not wanting to be seen or related to him, in a small town like the two of you Touya was the delinquent that people avoided interacting with lest they be excluded from that closed society.

He stretches to the side in order to get his own phone from the small table placed on the side of his bed and finds himself standing there for a few seconds feeling the smell of your body that permeated the pillow next to him. After taking a deep inhale, Dabi unlocks his cell phone to try to call you, but there is no answer, after all, it was past 1:00 AM in the dawn and Y/N was now probably lying in her own bed in her house trying to sleep.

The dark haired man lets out an impatient grunt before dropping the cell phone on the bed. He was deeply rooted in you and, because of that, feeling like an insane madman who was insisting on something that couldn't be his. But what could he do but fall in love with you after kissing your lips countless times and spreading your legs dangerously wide for him before claiming your virginity as his?

And the end of that night, just like all the others where you would finish fucking and you would shamefully put on your clothes to go home, would be filled by him masturbating with the thought of your naked body running through his mind.

Touya could feel the warm temperature of yours with little mental effort with his own fingers and would cling to the fading memories of the few non-sexual moments you had shared over the past few months.

That night, Dabi slept when the sun was already up, but Y/N, on the other hand, didn't even sleep a wink. She couldn't even take a lousy nap, because her eyes were glued to her cell phone screen waiting to see if he would call her again because on the first call of the night she wasn't brave enough to answer knowing that her parents were half a wall away. A coward? Yes, that's what she was. But there was a perfect daughter demeanor that she needed to maintain, especially if she wanted to continue to nurture her father's idea of letting her start studying at a university in the metropolitan area of the country.

Y/N would turn twenty a week from today — and if her father's promise to give you a car came true, her plan was already halfway done — and she didn't want to be stuck in that small, rural town forever. She had big dreams, and, ironically, in most of them the fulminating image of Dabi was present beside her. What if she was the only one there who wanted to leave that life? What if he didn't want to leave with her? But more importantly, at what point had their relationship become so deep?

It was now 7 o'clock in the morning, which meant that in about two hours your parents would wake up to go to work. You took a deep breath and reached out to grab the cell phone lying next to you on the bed, and then began to type a message as brief and vague as possible to your lover:

"Pack up all your stuff by next Friday. Take everything that you think is important or of value to you, pack it up, and meet me on the other side of the bridge that leads to the avenue out of town, the side that has the rusty 'Welcome to our town' sign. At two o'clock in the morning. No delays. And please try not to draw too much attention, wear the most decent, neutral clothes you have in your closet. Oh, and bring documents."

And all week long you could barely look your parents in the face without feeling guilty for wanting to break free from their protective arms, but you just couldn't take it anymore. You hated that small town, and you also hated being forced to go to church every Thursday and Sunday with your mother because she said that God would "bless you with all your dreams come true," so why didn't he just indirectly help you leave that town behind? Literally, the only thing holding you back in that town was Touya and you wanted to take him with you outside the boundaries of that town that looked more like a village forgotten by the rest of the world.

Y/N's favorite place to be was Dabi's lips, and even then, the girl's replies to him by messages and short calls that didn't last more than 5 minutes started to decrease drastically. The useless monologues continue to increase inside her mind. Until the Thursday before her birthday when Y/N was about to fall asleep after standing for almost 2 hours listening to the local church mass hoping that her mother would not notice her slouching and irritable posture, suddenly a sound of something banging against her bedroom window was heard. And initially she didn't bother to get up to find out what had caused the noise, until she heard it twice more and frowned as she got out of bed after seeing that it was almost two o'clock in the dawn.

You drew the curtains in front of the window, opened it and stuck your head out, looking down and suddenly feeling your cheeks heat up violently. And there was Touya looking at you with a look of sorrow and animosity. He pointed in the direction of the hidden backyard behind your house where the two of you in the beginning of your relationship used to hide just to spend some time together or have a make-out session that ended up leaving both of you sexually frustrated because neither of you had the courage to have sex in that place where anyone could see you if you made too much noise. However, Dabi was the devil in your life worth sinning for.

— What the fuck are you doing here? — Y/N asked almost desperately as she felt Touya wrap one of his arms around her waist to glue their bodies together.

— What? Can't a man miss his beloved and want to go see her? — He asked, holding her face with his free hand. — You barely answer my messages.

— I told you we were going to meet tomorrow, on Friday. — You rested your hands on his chest to move away just enough to look him in the face.

— And about that, you're killing me with curiosity, princess. What are you thinking of doing tomorrow? It's your birthday. — Dabi commented, running his thumb along her bottom lip affectionately.

— I-I know. — You replied, looking away. — I was planning on... going out... with you. — You just didn't say it was going to be an out-of-town trip with no intention of coming back.

— What are you hiding? — He asked, leaning down to place a simple, tender kiss on her lips.

— Would you follow me wherever I went?

— I would follow you to the ends of hell if you asked me to. — Dabi answered, and instinctively you grabbed his face to place your lips back on theirs in a kiss deeper than the one before in a frenzy of feeling.

— Then do it. — Y/N whispered against his lips staring into his beautiful turquoise eyes. — For my birthday the only thing I ask from you is to always be by my side, I don't need material gifts.

Seconds after you finished speaking, the sound of footsteps inside your house could be heard, and a shiver ran down your back as your hands desperately pushed Dabi away in the direction of the very door through which the two of you had entered the yard.

— Damn, not even at dawn I... — Touya began to complain as he walked briskly away from you and disappeared into the darkness of the night to return to his house.

— Shhh, shut up. I'll see you at dawn. Two o'clock, don't forget. — You whispered loud enough for him to hear you as you turned back and faced the back door of your house slowly opening to reveal to you the sleepy figure of your father.

— Honey? — He asked, and you gasped as if you were distracted by something while you could hear your heart beating rapidly. — What are you doing out here? It's late? and cold, you might catch cold.

— I... — Y/N looked around just to make sure there was no more sign of Dabi. — I heard a noise here when I went down to get some water and just wanted to come down and see if it wasn't an animal or something. But it was nothing, I guess it was just my mind playing with me. — It was a good enough lie considering that it wasn't hard to wake up during the night to go to the bathroom or eat something from the fridge.

And then your father called you inside and you promptly went. As the day went on, not even your father's birthday present with the car seemed to quell the anxiety inside you of going to see Dabi in the middle of the night with no intention of coming home. Y/N packed three backpacks and after watching your parents go to sleep, put them all on the back seats of the car after grabbing the keys that your father had left on top of the coffee table in the living room, and also grabbing some money from your father's safe that was in a secluded room in the residence.

After writing a short, albeit long, letter explaining to her mother that she was going to the metropolitan city — but without saying with whom — to try a new life there and that you would be fine because "there were friends waiting for you there" — which was a big lie, but she didn't need to know that — Y/N put on a sweatshirt and ran out of her now former home. Remembering all the various driving lessons her mother had made her take last year, you put the key in the ignition and made sure that your license and other documents were in one of the pockets of the three backpacks on the back seats. And you set off across town to reach the end of the bridge that served as both a gateway into and out of the city, parking exactly beside the welcome sign.

After about fifteen minutes, you watched a silhouette approach through the darkness, and if you didn't recognize the blue-toned sweatshirt with white details that Dabi usually wore when he didn't want to attract attention, you would surely lock yourself inside your car for fear that it was some sexual predator. Before he could finish approaching you at the agreed upon spot and open his mouth to vocalize something, you ran toward him to jump into his arms and kiss him fervently like you hadn't done in almost two weeks. He didn't fight your grip and responded to your display of affection instantly, he missed your touch more than he would admit.

— Where are we going? — He asked, analyzing her new car as he watched you open the back seat door and gestured for him to put his own belongings inside.

— To the big city. — You answered unlocking the door next to the driver's seat after hearing Dabi choke on his own saliva looking at you as if he hadn't heard you correctly. — Come in. — Your head swiveled inward.

— What do you mean we're going to the city? What about your parents? You have a loving family here, I have nothing to lose, but you? — Dabi put one hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently.

— I want to go to the city. I want to live with you. — Y/N replied feeling her cheeks heat up and looking at him expectantly. — You said you would go anywhere with me, to the ends of hell.

— And I will, but this decision... — You interrupted him.

— Please. For once in my life I want to do things my way. Without having to hide you from anyone, without having anyone judge me for being with you. Let's go to another city, live together, we'll figure it out when we get there. — You put one hand on his forearm, squeezing it gently.

Touya took a few seconds to process the information and after looking from you to the car, he said:

— Where are the keys? — You waved them in front of him, flashing an amused smile. — So get in the car, doll face. I'll drive. — He gave you a light slap on the butt before pushing you toward the driver's seat, getting into the car and putting the key in the ignition. — How long until we reach the city?

— About six hours, we can get there in the morning.

— Great. — Dabi started the car and began to drive along the deserted road while resting one hand on Y/N’s covered thigh and occasionally giving the area a gentle squeeze.

After about an hour of driving, you became distracted by fiddling with your cell phone until you noticed his long fingers sneaking up and over your thighs until they came dangerously close to Dabi's real intended destination. Her eyes cast a serious countenance at him as if she were silently saying: "Don't you dare" and in response his lips parted in a defiant smile as his hand on the steering wheel slowed and eventually brought the car to a full stop.

— C'mon. It's been almost two weeks since we had sex. — He said, lowering the two seats you were sitting on and pulling you to sit on his lap with your back against the steering wheel.

— And the best place you could find to have sex was inside my new car? — Despite your complaint, you didn't try to restrain his hands from reaching into your sweatshirt to grab and squeeze your breasts, nor did you object to the feeling of his knee pressing against the middle of your legs.

Touya lifts your arms and pulls up your sweatshirt and then concentrates on removing the simple tank top and lacy bra you were wearing, shortly after which he leans over your body to take one of your nipples between his lips to begin stimulating it. In response, you rub your hips against his leg as your hands grip his dark hair as a way to relieve the growing tension settling through your body. His hands slowly slid down your back, past your waist and into your pants, while his right hand also invaded your panties to run his fingers over your pussy lips and his left was busy opening the buttons of that garment.

Y/N put her hands on the hem of his sweatshirt, pulled it up, and was not surprised to see him with nothing underneath. Strangely enough, his skin was naturally too warm and it was not hard to believe that even with the low temperature outside the car he would only need a casual sweatshirt to not feel cold. And that was exactly why you liked so much to run your hands along his body exploring him calmly to make your touches last longer.

Dabi turned his body so that you were lying on the passenger seat and stood over you with a smug smile as his hands dug in and squeezed the skin of your legs after he finished getting rid of your pants with some difficulty because of the tight space.

— Keep your legs open for me or I won't let you cum, princess. — He whispered, sliding his mouth down her torso to her pelvis and pulling her hips up as high as possible before burying his fingers inside her pussy and enveloping her clit with his lips.

Y/N's hands gripped Touya's now messy hair and pushed his face against her hip in search of more of that mind-blowing pleasure she had missed for the few days she had been avoiding him. Suddenly the car became extremely hot, almost to the point where you both felt suffocated and ironically neither of you cared about that, not when Dabi was curving his fingers and sucking your clit in the way that always made your vision cloud and too loud moans escape your mouth. But, you didn't want to cum in his mouth, so your hands moved his face away from your hips and pulled his body up.

— Please, Touya, I need you inside me. — Her voice was slurred by her rapid breathing.

Dabi didn't need you to say anything else, he just stepped back briefly to get rid of the clothes that were still covering his lower body, adjusted your hips to his, leaned on the car door behind your body and guided his cock to the entrance of your pussy. As you felt him fill and enlarge you completely with his tip rubbing against your cervix, you groaned, leaning on his shoulders to face him and watching the small rise against your belly that was always present when that black haired man penetrated you.

Touya slid one hand down your neck and closed his fingers around your neck applying just the right amount of pressure to make waves of pleasure run through your body and not to hurt you. He began to move and Y/N passed her legs around his waist moving her body downward every time Dabi moved upward, occasionally he would take her lips on his just because he liked to feel her moans against his mouth and the rhythm of his hips gradually began to get harder and faster.

— I should cum inside you, hmm? — Touya asked, keeping eye contact with you every moment he thrust inside you again and making you clench your walls around his length without you even realizing it. — Damn, I love you so much, you have no idea what I would do for you.

— So show me. — You grabbed the wrist of his hand that was still resting on your neck and squeezed it without too much force. — Make me your girl.

With a smug and satisfied smile, he continued thrusting himself against her insides to the point where her hips began to ache just seconds before she reached her own orgasm with her nails digging into the skin of Touya's arm and her back arching as spasms coursed through her entire body at a high rate of speed. He gave a few thrusts against your pussy until the white streaks of cum painted your insides and slowly pulled out of you, wanting to prolong the feeling of having you squeeze him some more.

Dabi let his tired body fall back against the driver's seat and concentrated on stabilizing his breathing while you did the same as you looked up at him with the following thought running through your mind: "This is definitely the man I want to be with forever". The thought made your cheeks burn and it didn't go unnoticed by him:

— What? — One of his eyebrows arched.

— Nothing, I was just thinking... about you, about us. — You answered, starting to look around the car for your clothes, and an amused laugh came from Touya's mouth, who looked at you tenderly.

— So I'm always on your mind?

— More than you think, yes. — Y/N answered, leaning over to place a tender kiss at the corner of his lips. — Now get ready, get your clothes, let's get back on the road.

— Can we fuck again before we get to the city again? — Her eyes narrowed in disapproval.

— Shut up, you idiot.

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

#5: The One With Astruc's Self-Insert

In my introductory post, I said the main inspiration for this blog was @hypocrisyofandrewdobson​. For those who don't know, Andrew Dobson is an infamous webcomic artist known for drawing webcomics that tend to demonize people he's come across in public or people who disagree with him online (either critical of his art or his political views), while portraying himself as the victim or wise man calling them out on their differing beliefs.

If you want to learn more about this guy who I consider to be far worse than Astruc, check out the blog in question. And no, I don't know why he draws himself as a blue bear.

Why am I talking about this? It's one thing for some schmuck on the internet to use his work to respond to criticism, but the creator of a popular animated series dedicating an entire episode to attacking his critics and trying to get others to feel bad for him is another story.

The second episode of Miraculous Ladybug's third season, “Animaestro” served as a wake-up call for fans (myself included) to make them realize how immature Astruc could be. The plot centers around the premiere of a movie about Ladybug and Cat Noir directed by Thomas Astruc, who voices himself in the original French dub.

And this isn't just a brief cameo like what Stan Lee did in the MCU. Astruc is the Akumatized person this episode, so there's naturally a lot of focus on him. Throughout the first half of the episode, Astruc portrays himself as this timid man who nobody recognizes or respects, like this idiot who doesn't know what animation is.

Doorman: This is a private event, sir.

Astruc: Huh? Excuse me? I'm Thomas Astruc, the movie director.

Doorman: You filmed Cat Noir and Ladybug? What are they like in real life?

Astruc: Er, it's an animated movie. It's all cartoon characters. We don't actually film anyone. See, there's this whole team that draw the chara—

Doorman: Whatever. Who would want to see Ladybug and Cat Noir as cartoon characters?

Get it? Wasn't that meta joke hilarious? This is how much I was laughing:

And Astruc continues to get about as much respect as Rodney Dangerfield when he interacts with other characters like Jagged Stone and Chloe.

Jagged Stone: Ladybug is one of my best buds! I can't wait to see her movie!

Astruc: Well I—I'm the director, so actually it's more my movie, so to speak.

Jagged Stone: Oh, so you're the one who created the story?

Astruc: Well, technically the screen writers wrote the story, inspired by Ladybug's exploits.

Jagged Stone: Oh, okay. So you did all the drawings?

Thomas: No, no. The animators do all the drawings.  

Jagged Stone: So what do you do then?

(Later on...)

Chloe: So you're the one responsible for this movie?

Astruc: Yes, yes! Exactly! That's me!

Chloe: Then you were the one who left Queen Bee out of the trailer. You're lame, utterly lame.

I can't believe Astruc had a scene where he interacted with Chloe and didn't insult her at all.

The episode is determined to make the audience feel bad for Astruc. Nobody respects him and what he does. Isn't that saaaaaad? Nobody cares about animated film directors like Walt Disney or Tex Avery anyway. Not even these stupid children understand how hard Astruc works.

Several Children: Ladybug! Where's Ladybug?

Astruc: Hey there, kids!

Teacher: Ladybug isn't here children. We came here to meet the director of the movie. Children: (frowning in disappointment) Aww.

(Astruc looks visibly disappointed.)

Way to insult your primary demographic, Astruc. I thought you said kids have a better understanding of these stories when people criticized the writing of a certain episode (It's that scene in “Puppeteer 2” if you're curious/don't value your sanity).

It's almost like you're using that as an excuse to half-ass your work while still getting to claim this show is so groundbreaking.

In case you can't tell, “Animaestro” is one of those episodes. The ones where the showrunners decide to dedicate an entire episode to attacking critics of the show in a blunt fashion. Whenever a show addresses criticism, they either create an obvious strawman character to parrot the opinions of fans who don't like their work, or have someone defend the show and insult the critics directly.

The problem isn't that they're ignoring criticism. It's their show, and they aren't obligated to listen to critics or fans who don't like the direction the show is taking. On the other hand, they aren't obligated to fight back like this and treat their audience like crap. Any show that does something like the three clips I showed you usually comes off as petty and immature because they dedicate so much time to insulting the critics. 

Even during the Akuma fight, Astruc has to call out Ladybug for having problems with his movie in-universe, obviously representing critics of the show Astruc claims have no right to criticize the show while it's still airing.

Ladybug: What's with that trailer too? I am not scared of cats, at all.

Astruc/Animaestro: You haven't even seen the movie and you're already slamming it?

Cat Noir: He does have a point, you know.

Ladybug: I wasn't slamming it. It's called constructive criticism!

Yeah, how dare Ladybug be angry that this movie is portraying her as a powerless coward dependent on Cat Noir as opposed to a confident and brave superhero. She just doesn't understand the genius of Thomas Astruc!

And of course the character Astruc claims is “perfect” is the one to take his side.

And that's another problem with this episode, the metatextual references. Before he gets akumatized, Astuc says he spent three years of his life working on his movie. I get that time in this show is weird (we somehow had episodes taking place on the first day of school, Christmas, Valentine's Day, and the first day of Summer), but how did Astruc's self-insert work on a movie based on a superhero who has only been active for a year? Meta-wise, it's an obvious reference to the scorn Astruc has gotten from fans after working so hard on his show, but the only people who would get that reference are the ones who are aware of Astruc's reputation online.

Self-Insert aside, I actually think the titular Animaestro is one of the more visually impressive Akumas featured on the show. Animaestro takes on several forms based off several different forms and eras of animation, like flash, anime, rubber hose, and they all stand out. Granted, some of them are obvious parodies of other characters like Goku or Sailor Moon, but the actual Akuma fight is fun to watch. According to the Mexican Miraculous Ladybug Twitter account, this episode took two and a half years to create, and it shows. It's too bad the story behind it is completely insufferable, almost like the cartoon equidistant to Pixels.

But then comes the part that honestly makes the episode worth it, mainly for how unintentionally hilarious it is. Do you want to know what Animaestro's weakness is? Do you really want to know?

Animaestro is physically incapable of moving unless someone is watching him. I am not making this up.

Ladybug and Cat Noir literally defeat Animaestro by getting everyone to stop paying attention to him.

I could make so many jokes with this, but I can guarantee you're already thinking of something just as good, if not better, than whatever I write.

And there's the end where Astruc gives Marinette his ticket to the movie, which prompts Marinette to kiss up to him for no real reason.

Astruc: Sorry, I guess you don't know who I am either.

Marinette: Of course do. You're Thomas Astruc, the movie director!

Astruc: She recognized me. Somebody actually recognized me!

Nothing happened to make her change her opinion on the Ladybug movie, she didn't really say anything to him earlier in the episode that connects to this exchange, and outside of a few lines Animaestro said, she doesn't even know why he got akumatized (even though ironically she and Chloe accidentally contributed to it because of the awful subplot involving Kagami I talked about last time). If anything, it comes off less like she actually appreciates Astruc's work, and more like she's stroking his ego just to keep him from getting akumatized again.

So yeah, this episode is awful, and the fact that it came out right after the controversial “Chameleon” only proved to show what kind of direction the show was taking this season.

But honestly, even if Astruc still wanted to make about how he doesn't get enough respect the episode could have potentially. All he had to do was make a simple change: Instead of making it about validation for Astruc as a creator, make it about validation for animation in general.

It's a common misconception that animation is only used for shows and movies aimed at children, so the episode could reflect it. Instead of the huge turnout where several celebrities appear at the premiere, instead, the turnout could be a lot smaller, with the media dismissing it as some stupid kiddie flick. Instead of getting akumatized because he gets humiliated in public/getting no respect from anyone else, Astruc gets akumatized because he sees the audience didn't go wild for the movie after the premiere. All he can hear them say is that it's just “kids stuff”.

So when Astruc is Animaestro, he goes on about how important animation is. How it's helped produce propaganda since World War II. How it helped improve special effects in big blockbusters. How the medium is used to create movies that simply can't be filmed on a physical set.

After defeating Animaestro, Ladybug shows up to talk to him. She had seen the movie earlier, and actually enjoyed it. She had a few problems with the story, but they were just minor nitpicks and inaccuracies Astruc wouldn't know about, and she was blown away by the animation. She tells Astruc not to be deterred by his critics, and continue to do what he does. As a designer in her civilian life, Ladybug knows the joy creating brings her, and both she and Astruc want to spread that joy through their work.

Back at the premiere, Astruc thinks about what Ladybug said to him when he sees some kids reenacting a scene from the movie. Astruc walks over to them and asks what they thought of the movie. They said they loved it and how energetic it was. When he tells them he is the director, the kids' faces light up and they say they want to do what he does when they grow up, bringing a smile to Astruc's face.

Isn't that a much more humble approach instead of what we got? It would have helped Astruc come across as more sympathetic, especially with animation fans. But instead, we got an entire episode of Astruc whining about how misunderstood he is.

And you know the footage used for the movie at the beginning? Remember that, because I have a huge rant about it saved for a later post.

For now, here’s an example of a creator appearing in his work done right.

[anerdquemoraaolado]

So, I'm really reaching my sanity limits here, and this is the safer place I know in the moment, so what I'm doing is seeking some Christian help for a big Christian problem

So, I'm in the same church for 12 years. In the past few years, me and my family had some problems with the pastor. The thing is, my father is his main assistant, a co-pastor, as we say in Brazil, and my father's efforts hadn't value to the chief pastor. Also the chief pastor has been, arrogant, selfish, being very rude to people in his sermons, some of his sermoms are very weird and not biblical-like and with all that, his clothes are very tight, the ones he uses to go to church, and he has a clearly worry with his physical appearance (going to gym and all that, that's not a sin by the way) the thing is he is very vain.

Most people of my chuch sees him as a god and worship him as one (really, I'm not kidding).

In this current COVID-19 crisis, he claims isolation and quarentine are ways to get people afraid, he doesn't understand the situation's gravity and most people in church believes in him so easily.

So, I'm keyboardist in one of the church's band and the band's leader is obsessed with the chief pastor. We have a rehearsal for the next weekend and I'm seriously thinking on what people will think of me because I'm not going to the rehearsal, not at all.

The chief pastor calls people cowards for being afraid of the virus. I really don't know what to do, if it's better go to another church, but in the same time I don't want to leave the band and people calling me a traitor behind my back. Please, if you're a Christian and is willing to talk to me about it I'll be very grateful.

[migleefulmoments]

Le Sign, Abby

Anonymous asked: this is funny, C posted a photo of beard, D posted photos with the beard. Almost like they were sitting next to each other and saying “ok ok I will say this” (and it isn’t like EVERY Halloween Darren and Chris post their costumes for their fans)

 ajw720 answered:

The only difference, C controls his SM and the bearding, D does not, (that isn’t true but I know you need to believe it or your world comes tumbling down). but they knew the Halloween post was coming when C posted his belated b-day wishes (not that he acknowledged they were late).  

It really is, if you can remove the very human, tragic element, like a script for a really bad D Movie.  C posts “Happy Birthday, Babe!” a day after the man’s actual b-day and “D” praises his fake bride for MAKING TEN costumes (let me stop you right there, Darren was actually APPRECIATING Mia for putting together 10 costumes while he was too busy to help. He was praising her for thinking of and executing 10 costumes. He was honoring her for being as into Halloween as he is and playing along. He was praising her because he loves her. If he wanted to praise her for shopping he would have use the word shopping. Your reductive shopping tirades- which you turned it into a full day of nonsense intended to bully Mia- misses the point of his Tweet entirely. At the end of the day, he appreciates her. If your lover appreciates you AND is sensitive enough to care about your feelings they should write something about you on social media..if they aren’t, then it sucks to be you but shut up because the shopping straw man silly makes you look petty, obtuse, unappreciated, mean girls who are so jealous you can’t see straight.  Yes, a lot of their costumes this year were mass-produced and purchased this year-so what? Who cares? Is the bar of Halloween costumes that they are all couture? In the past they have used costume designers- they never made their own costumes entirely from scratch themselves. But that doesn’t mean that coordinating 10 costumes isn’t time consuming and clearly Darren didn’t care -he appreciated her.) Sure praise her if she actually designed them and sat with her sewing machine  No, she went online and ordered things (I doubt she even went to a store) (Why would that matter? You really have no idea what she did do you? You’re just grasping because you're so pissed that Darren mentioned Mia and now you are stuck erasing that history...AGAIN. Darren is always doing things with- and saying things about- his wife that prove time and time again that they are a couple and he loves her...it infuriates you because you have to erase it or "debunk” it. ) and 3 couple costumes were cheap frankly (Again, why would that matter but also at $50+ per costume, I wouldn't call that “cheap”?).  The only thought was how narcissistic she could be (What did she do? I didn’t see her social media...what did she say? Oh, right, you didn’t see her social media.  You're just pissed that Darren mentioned one nice word about her. Your the one who blew it up into Armageddon and gave her so much attention) in their execution (as @flowersintheattic254 pointed out even the Mario costume had  a reason, it was a reminder of Japan and the fake encagement by referring to the ad that paid for their trip there) (Huh? You're insane.  That’s suuuucccchhhhhh a stretch- but then you cannot stop thinking about that trip. I just don’t understand who the person you believe ccDarren is.  Is he such a coward that he lets Mia walk all over him and hurt him over and over? Why would he agree to be a dog hurt by CDV or make fun of the place they g to engaged if ccMia was ruining his life? Nobody is that much of a wuss ass twit.  The rest of us on planet sanity know that a the real reason they wore that costume was because Mario wins when he rescues Peach).

And seriously how are people not questioning that she spent the entirety of her month picking TEN costumes? (Because it isn’t our place to question that. I don’t get your beef? Is it because she isn’t stuck working 9-5 in a cubicle like you are? Is it because she both a successful business and a wealthy spouse so she has more freedom than you do?)  Who has time for this?  I know, i know, a person whose only role in life is to play fake plus one.(You come off as so jealous every time you bring this up-and god how many times can you bring it up? How other people live shouldn’t concern you. It just spins up your anxiety and you have no control over it. Couples make decisions about their roles and their work schedules and nobody else gets a say and nothing is “normal” or “abnormal”.) 

I am just so tired by D in particular being utterly dragged down by the useless dead weight by his side and his team’s sole ambition to promote her and make her sound like a decent person. (Here’s the harsh reality Abby- Darren posted his Halloween costumes and gave Mia a simple mentioned and you have written or reposted 23 posts about it just today. It has consumed your blog and your life. The ONLY person pushing and promoting Mia is YOU and your ilk. Mia is a decent person with lots and lots of friends-but even if she was the world’s worst person-even if she sat all day stalking and cyber-bulling strangers - you still have no say in who Darren marries and loves. That you don’t like her- or that you 

If they wanted to praise her, maybe they should have forced her to participate in the zero waste initiative instead of sitting drinking by the pool or have her volunteer to help young girls who have been kicked out of their homes, or have been raped.  (This entire paragraph is rich-talk about moving the goalposts- if he had put her in the video-which wasn't under his control since it wasn’t his project, he was just the host- you would have lost your shit over her being in the video raging about her lack of worth  she isn’t famous, she’s a slut, blah blah blah...like please please have enough self respect to recognize that you would have been livid if she was in the project). Or pick any cause and truly volunteer her time to promote it (you have NO idea what she does with her time or money because she doesn’t post it on social media. If she did, you would be raging that she was looking for attention- so please stop. What do YOU do to help the world?).  If she is not going to actually get a job and pursue a career (SHE OWNS A BUSINESS!!!!! Just like your boss... and you know she does. Your refusal to accept that is an ad hominom logical fallacy) please force her to do something that is actually of value and contribute something good to the world. But to praise her for picking TEN costumes? (Le sigh.)   

Praise that comes from a man who this year alone won three awards, is starring in a show he created and wrote the music for, has his first big movie premiere this week, is exec producer and star of a huge show on N/etflix, just announced his starring role with 2 A++ lists actors next spring on Broadway, celebrated the 5th anniversary of the festival he created, volunteered his time for the zero waste initiative, performed at several charity events, and was just yesterday name limited series actor of the decade.  Where is the praise for him from his “bride”? (Abby, come on, just because she doesn’t have public sm doesn’t mean she isn’t praising him in real life -or on her private sm-in fact, she has praised him on her social media that has been reblogged and you bitch about that. She was bragging about him speaking Tagalog at a dinner and your bitched and moaned that she didn’t know the language his mom speaks-forgive me for not believing you know more than she does). He at least deserves it. (Why does he deserve it? Because he’s famous and he’s a good actor? People are more than the value of their celebrity. You sure buy into the celebrity-obsessed culture don’t you? Pathetic. A husband thanking his wife for doing something for him is not something you can argue about-It is what it is. You have no say. There is no argument, no straw man, no gaslighting, and no erasing it). 

(here is where it gets intense)

How do they not see how ridiculous it is for someone with D’s accomplishments in 2019 alone praise a person for purchasing TEN costumes for Halloween? (SMH because one has nothing to do with other. Comparing them is another logical fallacy-your entire post is full of them. It’s like saying that if I am honored for my work saving kids’ lives, you can’t be honored for your work because your work in corporate immigration isn’t as important as mine is). And stans, how do you accept that this is right or normal. (I just don’t get why you continue to ask us WHY and then outright refuse to learn from what we say.  A life without learning is a wasted a life, Abby. To answer your question-because there is no “right" or “normal” when it comes to a stranger’s life. Darren’s life is Darren’s life and he can marry a Rhode’s Scholar or high school drop out with a low IQ. He can marry someone who never wanted to work or someone who wants to own the world. He can marry a humanitarian or Kim Kardashian.  It’s his choice..not yours...you have no say whatsoever.)  You really know nothing about him and have such little respect for him as a person if you continue to accept the character his idiotic team has created on his behalf.  It is so far from the person he is and that he generally holds himself out to be when given the opportunity. (oooh someone has been reading my blooogggggg. No, Abby, YOU have no clue who Darren is.  When I read Darren’s words or hear him in an interview, I take in what he says and I simply add that info into my internal “who is Darren” file. This is how we learn about the personality of anyone and everyone we know. We hear what they say about themselves and we take in how they act and what they care about, what they don’t care about, what they think is important, and what they do with their life at work and outside of work and we form a persona in our minds. You, on the other hand, have decided Darren is a very specific persona that you only see on rare occasions and looks far more like Blaine than he does like the real Darren.  So instead of listening and learning, you immediately set about to rewrite his words, change the meaning, and debase their value and intent because you have already formulated your version of Darren and it’s static. You won’t accept anything he does or says as “real” if it doesn’t meet that fantasy Darren. But this isn’t how it works in real life. We don’t label someone and then expect them to fit that model at all times or we get angry and scream “this isn’t normal”.  Everyone we know is growing and learning and changing al the time and we simply take in that information and store it away as part of their personality. You spend so much time being so angry about Darren’s life  because you haven’t actually seen much of your ccDarren since Glee ended. And you know that at some level because you just said “It is so far from the person he is and that he generally holds himself out to be when given the opportunity” That is the key here- the Darren you love is never around because that Darren ceased to exist when Blaine went away. The Real Darren is the one you see every single day- he’s a multifaceted guy-just like all of us- who can be prim and proper when he wants to but can be bawdy and crude and sexual. They are all Darren Criss). 

This isn’t about being a “gay fetishist” or “hating woman” this is about wanting for D to be fairly and accurately represented and no longer forced to participate in this stupid, life sucking game to promote a person that contributes absolutely nothing to the world.  (No, you're right, this isn’t about being a gay fetishist or misogynist- you are those as well- but this right here is about you not liking the person Darren Criss is in real life and demanding he adopt the persona of a character you fell in love with on Glee.    Darren was never Blaine. Yes, he can act like Blaine in an occasional Tweet or during an interview- usually on the red carpet when he doesn’t know the interviewer. But that doesn’t mean he is that person.  Think about it, you have never once seen the Darren you believe he is outside of Glee events, interviews, your favorite 3 Tweets (the Met Gala coat, the granddaughter of his Midway character and Bradley Cooper)  and the conversations you imagine he has with his family and Chris. It isn't reasonable to believe that the Darren you see every single day isn’t the real Darren. People are who they are, they aren’t who we want them to be- that goes for your favorite celebs, your parents, your best friends, your lovers, your coworkers and even your children (which is a very hard lesson for some parents). You’re suggesting that he is acting like someone else because you don’t like what you see. That isn’t  healthy, period. As for promoting a person who contributes nothing to this world- judging someone based entirely on other people’s social media mentions of her is frankly fucked up. It’s another logical fallacy to believe you know what Mia does for the world. She owns an entertainment venue and Darren is an entertainer. Just because Darren has more fame than she does, doesn’t make him more valuable. It’s really pathetic and sad that you see the world that way.)  If you want to have a strong female role model, there are so many, i’ve talked about a few in the past few days (thus far Nancy, Lea, and Phoebe)  and will continue to do so, but please stop worshiping a person whose sole reason you are speaking about her is her connection to D, even if you refuse to accept it is fake.  (Abby, Darren loves Mia. He married her, IDK what it takes for you to understand that you have no say in his life and bitching and moaning and demonizing Mia says nothing about Mia, but it does say everything about you. You're petty, cruel, a bully, and you are losing sight of reality- please get some help. As for role models- I had to ask because I couldn't’ imagine that Lea was Lea Michele-it’s funny how your opinion of her changed after you saw more of the real Lea on LM/DC tour. Maybe you should learn from that.  Nancy Pelosi-I mean yes but are you suggesting Darren marry Nancy? And Phoebe? Phoebe who? I don’t understand this argument at all. First of all it false presumes that everyone looks to Mia as a role model. None of us know her. The only people obsessing about others looking to Mia as a role model are you and the tinhats. I’m 50 years old, the only younger people I look to as role models are people who are doing something to change the world we are living in -fighting corruption, hate, and climate change. I don’t look to Lea, Darren or Mia as role models .  I enjoy them as entertainers and I think Mia is kick ass but it ends there.   We can all look to Nancy as a role model, but what the hell doe she have to do with Darren and Mia? My celebrity crush on Darren has nothing to do with looking for strong female role models nor does it have anything to do with who he is married to). 

[thanidiel]

Black Shield

[Before the Battle of Havenport]

“...My intention is to do what I usually do when the time comes.”

“I have no faith in any of them.”

"What about your faith here?"

"What do you mean by that? What about my faith? My faith in what?"

“You have no faith in most of them. What about the commanders here? Or I?”

"Are you trying to get me to stroke your ego? To tell you that I have faith in only you?"

"I'm not that romantic. If you have doubts, I ought to know them. For the sole fact you're working with us if nothing else.”

"I have my doubts about everyone in this war. Everyone.”

"Ah?"

"Others are not used to this sort of war. They'll act stupid and emotionally. They'll be naive. They'll panic. You and the others have too much faith in yourselves. I don't think you will doubt yourself enough."

"I doubt what I'm doing. I just don't tell them. If I tell them, it breaks everything. They need to see that I'm a callous asshole that pulls victories out of my ass like a magic trick. Because that's the type of figure they're going to fall into line behind… you think I didn't have my doubts about this? We're planning to kill thousands like diseased cattle.”

"I think you doubt that. I don't think you doubt your plans and calls."

"... I trust others to put me into line when it's a tad too suicidal."

“They won't if you make them think you never doubt yourself. They won't if you scare them.”

“I don't scare them. They hate me, rather.”

"They hate you. Why?"

“They think I don't care about protecting our own.”

“And do you? Moreso than winning the overall war?”

“I do. I don't throw myself into the thick of everything, where no one else dares to tread, because I'm interested in seeing other people die or throw their lives away. I'm not supposed to make the choice that values the lives of one region over another. I can only make the choice that means more people overall walk away from it all. People are short-sighted. I strike how I do because it removes others from the situation entirely. It means they aren't in the situation in the first place, where I need to throw myself in front of them.”

"Does it bother you if they think that you are dishonorable from your decisions so far? Your duel, for instance?"

“No. If I didn't do that, then we'd have had to fight our way through. People would die, and then die some more, because we wouldn't have enough strength to conquer the rest of their forces afterwards. I panicked the Alliance by breaking the rules for the first time, and now we're nestled in their most vulnerable of positions. What bothers me is when they think I'm doing it because I don’t care if everyone else burns. It's either we fight Stormwind now, or Stormwind pours south and kills more, on top of situations like the Dawnspire. I'm minimising casualties.”

"Others will be bothered. So bothered that they won't do what needs to be done."

“Then they can reinforce the least threatened positions, like Dawnspire and the Southwest. And I'll do what I usually do. And break the rules. And win it.

"But you can't win this war singlehandedly either."

The other is asleep.

She always falls asleep first, and wakes up after.

Most of the time, it stirred a little marble of irritation within Thanidiel, that traveled down pathways. from her head to her feet, to roll across the floorboards and disappear off into the night to be found in the morning. If only because she had a way of trapping in the Sunspear with her unconscious weight.

This time, she found a solace of sorts in it. It allows the soldier her thoughts. The ones to be kept away from the wind, and remain seated within the realm of secrecy. She had not expressed the whole of it to the other, and thus, it has to be mulled over now or there will be no peace to her night.

When she shared those words: that she would tread where no one else will - beyond the bounds of everyone else’s footsteps, where everyone else’s sanities, and everyone else’s mortalities, cowered at the edges of the darkness and refused to push on - that was not the implied suicidal bravery that she had forged her name upon, to strike and take victory before those behind her would come to true harm.

It was, it is, her fear, her terror.

That, she would not so-easily admit to the woman at her side. That she isn’t a soldier; more a coward with a victory streak.

Yes, it is something protective, and endurant, in her soul that yawns its great maw and tosses its great head when threat, for what is her’s, scents on the horizon.

No, it is not quite as assertive and blisteringly forthright as the biography reads.

She doesn’t…

She…

I—…

Her hand reaches out to fill the silence, with the loss her mind wanders within. Both looking, and unlooking, her blind touch still follows (be gentle) the outline of the other from shoulder, along flank and belly to rest upon the highest point of the hip’s crest, as precisely perfect as her training in this has built.

Sluggish, her sight reorients and focuses back to matters of reality, even through the misty, heavy, pangs rolling through the muscles of her stomache.

Hair.

Thick tresses of hair.

As always.

(What colour was this again?)

            Brown.                                                                      White.

                                                        Black.

                              Red.                                                   Blonde.

              White.                                Brown.                                          White.

                                   Black.                                    Red.

                                                            Blonde.

                 Brown.                                                                   White.

                                        Blonde.                     Black.

                   Red.                   White.                    Red.                   Red.

Red.                Red.                Red.                Black.               Red.               Red.

         Red.                  Red.                   Red.                   Red.                   Blonde.

   Brown.            Red.            Red.             Red.            Red.          Red.         Red.

            Red.            Red.           Red.            BlRED            RED.            RED.

RED.RED.RED.RED.RED.RED.RED.RED.RED.RED.RED.RED.RED.REBLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD. BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD. BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD. BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD. BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD. BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD. BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOOD.BLOODBLOODBLOOD.BLOOD.BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD.BLOOD.BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD.BLOOD.BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD.BLOOD.BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD.BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD.BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD.BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD.BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD.BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOOD—

                                                   B R E A T H E .

                                                             …

                                                             …

                                                             …

                                                             …

                                                             …

…………………………………………………………………………………………….............

(breathe.)

She looks at the other again. Black hair and all.

…

…

…

She is a coward.

And she isn’t ready to spell out the W H Y of that to herself tonight.

“Bri?”

“...mm?”

“I’m going to win this.”

(The more I bound ahead, the less that comes everyone else’s way.)

[ @jessipalooza @thesunguardmg ]

[jenggala]

A Letter (That Never Sent) To My Mother

Mah--as I was told to call you “Mamah” since my earliest days--I’m sorry it took more than 20 years to understand of the realization that you’re just like me, a person, who is learning continually, instead just a mother to this body. You were once young, have a full past, and I was trying too hard to change your present state into my idealization how a mother should be. To this point, I’m glad to be raised as a person, as a feminist, as myself, by you and all your best effort. Even though I’m still mad about the “no-brainer” mockery you drawn upon me that still lingers through my veins, because I still remember those feelings exactly. How often my best rationality says, “everyone we encounter is a mirror, reflecting us back to ourselves.”, I still can’t forgive you for that easily because remembering the fact that you’re my mother. You don’t have to worry, that is totally my responsibility to go peace with it, for now I just need time and myself.

Our relationship is far from perfect, neither my hopes. To these days, to all the survived days, the only thing that could make me feel part of something is the ugliness that is so natural to humankind but somehow our society busily trying to fade it away. I belong to the ugliness, Mah, until I was blinded to see it as my kind of beauty. I often worried because you often look down on yourself for being fatter, older, and non-productive. You don’t have to grow old ‘gracefully’, we all never been at peace with time. You just have to be yourself and step back from all the silly entitlements of someone’s wife, mother, or friend. You’ve been busy taking care of others’ lives until you forget yours.

Sometimes, I feel I’m too coward for this world where all my best thought to solve my problems is to go really far away from it, until I got no place to go except blaming and punishing myself for being such a reckless girl. The cycle continues until now. As much as I look through your eyes, how you view the world and most important thing, how you ‘do’ love, as much as I understand where this cycle rooted from. I don’t blame you at all. I blame the sick system, the one who made a women like you being forced to take more responsibilities than a man should. Of course you must be felt overwhelmed and your avoidance is a survival mechanism you’ve learned since childhood. Back then, I was going to kill myself because of this cancerous society, Mah, but thankfully someone has helped me through it. I still got no power to defeat them, all I can do is to make my own bubble, for the sake of my sanity. Right now, I do worship sanity above all. It means I have to deconstruct all the values, stigmas, and dogmas that I’ve been exposed to, one-by-one, including what you and Papah have taught me. You will bet that is wasted. Somehow, I believe there’s some blockages hindering myself to be the best version of myself that I don’t even know what those are. I’m in no rush to shedding my skin. I will just flow with how the Universe works.

There are still so much more than ‘things’ that I want to write to you. But, I guess you don’t like to read that much, so I will keep this letter as short as possible.

Take care. Please stay sane and stay healthy.

Love, Your Wildest One.

[obviouslyelementary]

Send me an angel

Suggested to be read while playing “Send me an angel” by Scorpions. 

I really, really love Hank and Connor.

Also @vicmonn again

-----------

He remembered it everyday. Ever since his world had turned to shit, he remembered everything as if he could see it in front of his very eyes. Perhaps that was why he turned to drinking. At least for a few hours, he forgot everything.

That numb state was the nicest he could find himself in.

Hank remembered screaming into the dark city around him. He remembered climbing abandoned buildings, punching the life out of walls and glasses and everything else he found on his way. He remembered second guessing himself, standing too close to the edge and looking down, at the infinite choices he had.

He never had courage enough to make the jump.

Or pull the trigger.

Or push the chair.

Not only an asshole, alcoholic prick, but also a coward.

Cole would be so disappointed in him.

His father, a fucked up. Lost his son for a stupid car crash, a stupid android and a doctor filled with toxins inside their veins. Lost his sanity drinking his ass off in cheap bars, spending all his salary in slow ways of killing himself, jokingly playing Russian roulette almost every night next to his dog, whom by now seemed completely unaffected by anything Hank did.

Sure, he would be scared of the shot sound, but then again, he would recover.

Or at least that was what Hank thought about every time he pulled the trigger and the gun didn't come.

Sometimes he wondered if he even put a bullet inside the gun at all, or if he was just so beyond repair that he was beginning to fool himself.

It didn't matter. Cole was probably already ashamed, hating him wherever he was.

At least he never had a chance to fuck it up as a father.

He also never had the courage to return to the graveyard after the burying.

The casket, so small, being put under the many feet of dirty, the stone saying kind words about a child that had lived nothing. That had learned so much, and that had made Hank love and hate himself all over again.

It had been three years since Cole's death when Hank had the courage to return to the graveyard.

He brought flowers, of course, and some child toys. Something he hoped Cole would like, even though he could be completely wrong.

He would never truly know.

Hank kneeled in front of the stone, sighing and touching the ground, over the snow that covered the dirt. He sighed, weakly, and placed the toys and flowers next to the stone, touching it lightly and then moving back once more.

He didn't believe in God. He was skeptical when he was younger, but now he was sure the almighty bitch didn't exist. Not when he had taken his son like this. Someone so cruel couldn't be waiting for anyone in any type of heaven.

Even so, his most desperate human thought, something his mother had thought him when he was very little, took over his body, and he rested his forehead against the stone, letting a sob leave his mouth as he began crying for what felt like the first time since Cole had died.

"Please..." he whispered against the stone, as if someone was listening, as if someone would know. "Please... I will do anything..."

And he would. Just for a day. Just to take Cole's place. Anything. Anything...

But nothing happened. And nothing would ever happen. No one would bring his son back, no one would let him see his son one last time. He would have to do what he had been planning to do, but he had no courage.

So, he cried. He cried during the entire night, and in the back of his mind, he begged with all his strength.

Not for Cole, or for himself, but for something.

Someone.

Anything.

  "God damn it Connor" Hank growled as he turned his car in another street, looking around everywhere to where that fucking android could be.

There had been a bit more than an year since they had met, a little less than an year since Hank had basically adopted the android into his home, and now, in mere October of 2039, suddenly he had decided to vanish from earth with no explanation.

Honestly, October 11 was not a date Hank was willing to get out of his house and do anything. Really. All he wanted to do was to drown himself in the strongest whiskey he had available and enter an alcohol induced coma until he was free of all concerns in the world and was already October 12.

But no. Connor had disappeared from the house without a trace, and for a few hours it was fine, since Hank woke up around 2 pm and he knew Connor would probably go to work even if Hank didn't.

But now, it was 10 pm and there was no sign of the fucking bastard. He hadn't called, reported in, returned, Fowler hadn't warned him of anything, and when he called the station, around 9:30, it all became worst, because they said Connor hadn't shown up the entire day.

So there were only two possibilities: either Connor was really fucking with him really badly, or those Cyberlife bastards had done something to his kid and he was going to find them and destroy them one by one with his bare hands.

He had requested a small team of cops to go ahead and search with him, and Fowler had agreed with barely no hesitation. And Hank couldn't be more thankful, because losing two kids in the same day was a bit too much, even for him.

When that thought came up, Hank suddenly lost his breath. He parked on the nearest parking spot, and rubbed his face, trying to take the thought away.

No. Connor was fine. Wherever he was, he was probably after... someone, maybe a culprit, or maybe... maybe Markus had called him in for a task? Kara could have called him for some tea...

In every scenario he imagined, he could only think of the most horrible things, and considering he was thinking about Connor, they were all very likely. The guy had no value for his life, would get himself in the worst situations possible, no matter what it was.

He had to stop thinking about a dead Connor before he got a panic attack from it.

Suddenly, his phone rang, and he grabbed immediately, looking down and accepting the call without even checking who it was.

"Found your plastic prick" Gavin's voice said, clear as day, and Hank felt his soul leaving his body with relief. He had never been happier hearing Reed's voice before.

"Fuck... is he alive?" he asked, wincing internally at how he had to ask if the boy was alive or not. Gavin chuckled at his comment, and it did sound sarcastic, but there was a weird kind of softness to it.

Something very unlike Gavin.

"Yeah, he is fine. Though I believe you should come check for yourself. I don't want to disturb it" gavin said simply, and Hank furrowed his eyebrows, confused. "I'll send you the address"

"Alright" Hank answered, and turned the call off before looking down, the address quickly showing up.

He frowned deeply at it, and then sighed shakily, putting his phone away and starting the car once more.

Whatever Connor was doing there... he was going to kill him.

 "Good luck" Gavin told him as he arrived, a weird, but somehow calm composure for him. He tapped Hank's shoulder and left to his car, and Hank shook his head, looking forward and sighing to himself.

He could do this.

Hank stepped inside the graveyard, slowly, pushing the gates open and then closing them behind himself. He sighed, looking around at the badly lit place, and began walking, checking all graves, trying to find Connor.

He knew very well where the android was, but he hoped he wouldn't have to go all the way down there.

Slowly, he reached the correct block, and saw the android kneeled in front of a stone, right in the middle of the block of many dead people. Hank couldn't see exactly what he had around him, it was very dark where the stone stood. But slowly, he walked towards Connor, and everything became a little clearer.

Connor was kneeling to the side of the stone, as if he was afraid of stepping over the empty dirty where the supposed casket should be. Hank knew very well that caskets and bodies were removed after a while, and he knew Connor probably knew that as well, but it was a sign that the kid had some form of respect for the dead.

Then, he noticed the surroundings. There was a vase with white poppies and lavender pieces next to the stone. In front of the vase, a little card, that Hank couldn't really see fully.

The whole image in front of him was already too much, but upon closer inspection, he could see some dried tears on Connor's cheeks.

For some reason, Hank knew he had to be the strong one here.

"You don't have to mourn him for me, kid"

That was... a shitty thing to say. But it was true.

He didn't need Connor to come visit Cole in the date of his death.

"The employees said you only came here once throughout these five years" Connor said, his voice calm and collected, as it usually was. Brought some peace to Hank, he didn't think he could hear Connor's crying voice at that moment. "Why?"

"Because I was a coward" Hank said, honestly, and Connor's eyes finally left the stone, turning slowly to look at Hank, who shrugged. "Because I only had the courage to face him once"

"I'm sorry Hank" Connor said, softly, but Hank could hear the hitch in it, the tremble. "If I could exchange my life for his, I would"

"Connor..." Hank sighed, and looked up at the sky for a second to gain strength before he looked down at the android again, walking towards him and placing his hand on his shoulder. "I wouldn't want you to"

"You told me once yo-"

"Connor" Hank said firmly, but softly, before he squeezed his shoulder. "It is the past. It is done. Finished. Nothing can bring him back. And nothing can bring you back anymore either"

"Wouldn't you rather have Cole back?"

Hank felt a harsh pain in his chest, and he looked down at the stone, sighing deeply and then looking back at Connor.

"That is a question with no answer Connor. I can't have him back. No matter what you do" he said softly, before he slowly kneeled down next to the android, standing face to face with him.

His eyes were shining so bright, fresh tears rising to fill them up, hands holding tight onto his pants, curled up into fists. He looked so much like a lost kid, trying to understand the world, death, and all cruelest concepts of 'being alive'.

"I had to come here" Connor mumbled, drifting his eyes back to the ground, and Hank stared at him, curious to listen. "Humans... humans say that talking to the diseased, or at least their image, helps them understand their path. I... I was wondering if Cole could help me"

"And did he?" Hank asked softly, hand sliding to Connor's upper back, and Connor looked up at the stone, hands tightening around his trousers as he frowned, clearly frustrated.

"N-no" Connor mumbled, his voice breaking, and Hank felt his own heart break. This was just too much. "He showed me nothing..."

Hank smiled weakly. Yeah, he knew that feeling. It was just like that time, two years before. When he had come to the graveyard seeking guidance, and found only more pain and suffering.

"What were you wondering to him? Perhaps I could help" Hank offered, shrugging lightly and wrapping his arm around Connor's shoulders, and he leaned on Hank's hold, sighing weakly before wiping his tears.

"I... I came here to ask him... something selfish" Connor mumbled, looking away despite of still leaning towards Hank. His LED flashed light yellow, and somehow Hank knew he was ashamed. "I shouldn't have come here..."

"Come on son, spill it out" Hank said, squeezing his arm, and his voice was soft and calm, but still a bit playful. "Nothing you do can be as horrible as you think it is"

Connor sighed, and wiped his eyes again, before turning towards Hank, looking at his eyes with his eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

"I came here to ask him... how I could be a good son to you. How I could make you proud. How to make you think of me as you think of him" Connor said, softly, but firm, before he looked down again.

"I know I will never be Cole. Or... or replace him. But I... I want to" he sniffed, suddenly, LED flashing yellow again as he wiped his eyes furiously.

Hank...

Hank was speechless.

"I just want to make you stop suffering!" Connor said, loudly, now unable to control his tears as they slid down his cheeks, his fists hitting his thighs in frustration, eyes and head turned away from Hank as he let his feelings out as he had never before. "But I... I can't! I don't know how! Everything I try seems useless and I thought... I thought..." he sniffled, his rage being taken over by sadness, guilt. "I thought Cole could help me... but he couldn’t..."

Hank felt his world fall apart.

Then, he felt all pieces being glued together oh so perfectly, it almost felt like the entire universe was spinning on the right direction for once.

His heart squeezed tight, and he turned Connor around, an ashamed Connor, that didn't dare to look at him, who had his LED flashing yellow, who still had tears sliding down his cheeks.

His Connor.

His kid.

His son.

Hank let out a weak chuckle, filled with feeling, his eyes tearing up for the first time since he had visited Cole's stone all those years ago, and quickly pulled Connor for the tightest hug he could, feeling when the android tensed up, before gripping onto Hank like a lifeline.

He wanted to laugh, to cry, to say that Connor had twisted all truths, but he couldn't. he couldn't, because he was too busy feeling as if he could finally be happy for once.

He felt complete for once.

And Hank held him, tight and secure, and gently kissed the top of his head, despite the snow and cold, and he felt when Connor melt into his arms, face finding a secure spot against Hank's chest, dug up in his many coats, like a child scared of the dark, afraid of monsters and finally safe against someone they trusted.

"You are all that I could ask for, son" he whispered, against Connor's head, and chuckled through his tears when he felt Connor squeezing him tighter.

And in return of that night three years before, he thanked whoever was around them or up there in heaven.

They gave him what he requested, in the form of the most human android they could find.

A child that would last him forever.

An angel.

[justfangstvdto]

Knight in Bloody Armor

A/N: This is my toss217 secret santa gift for @thegoddessofvampire . Surprise!! Sorry for the delay, and I hope this little oneshot is as you imagined!! (Also I am technically still on writing hiatus atm, so sorry if it sucks! And I choose to go off book with my usual format, I hope that´s okay)

Characters: Kol x Vampire!Reader

Plot: The reader and Kol had a fight and the reader storms out, only to be shanghaied by an unknown group. Kol, of course, swoops in and saves his darling.

Warnings: kidnapping, typical TO violence

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You and Kol are passionate people. Very passionate. And this passion reflects in your fighting as well, because you fight as hard as you love. And you love each other. There is no doubt about it.

You don´t even remember what you´re were fighting about this time or who started the screaming match, but you smashing the door back in its lock, storming out of your shared apartment certainly ended it.

And the unknown hand around your neck breaking the delicate bones washed away any ounce of anger left in your body and replaced it with fear.

Meanwhile, Kol searched heaven and hell for you after the usual anger phase ended.  He searched the Compound, your favourite places in town and he even asked his brothers to keep an eye out.  But no dice. You have vanished from the face of the earth.

Something must have happened. He knows it. It is unlike you to disappear for hours on end without a word. He gotta find you. No matter what.

Luckily he knows just the person to help him. His sister Freya and her witch powers.

The room is barely lid and echoey, the faintest cold winter breeze pressing through the cracks of the abandoned warehouse. Your eyes flutter open and you quickly look around, ready to fight anyone who comes your way, but the burning vervain ropes around your wrists prevent you from doing so.

“Rise and shine!” A deep, raspy voice calls out from behind, the man's steps echoing through the spacious room.

“What the hell do you want from me?” You ask him once he rounds the concrete wall he has bound you on.

“From you? Nothing.” He shrugs, his disgusting cigarette breath hitting your nose “From your boyfriend on the other hand -”

“Whatever you want from him, I'm not going to help you.” You stare him down, your stellar expression outright terrifying  “If that isn't obvious already.”

“You already are, Y/N. You are the key to your boyfriend's demise. And his family.”

“You´re so wrong, you have no idea. Kol will be your demise, pal. Not the other way around."

“I wouldn't be so sure.” He brings his finger to his mouth and whistles  “Come in here boys, let's show our guest what we're made of.”

The squeaky door opens and a dozen men enter the warehouse, armed to the teeth with guns and wooden stakes. Clearly vampire hunters.

“Are you serious?” You scoff at him and his attack dogs “You think you can take on an original with a few vampire hunters? What are you gonna do, tickle him with your ridiculous stakes? Please. Soon enough Kol will blast through here, decorating these walls in a lovely blood red.”

“That I will.” Kol steps out of the shadows, a smirk plastered on his face “You know me so well, Y/N.”

“See? There he is.” You smirk at your kidnappers, knowing that in a matter of seconds, every single one of these men will be nothing more but a lifeless shell.

The first two men lunge at him simultaneously, but Kol easily breaks their necks without effort, their non-white oak stakes opposing no threat. The other men follow, including their leader, all of them lunging at him at the same time.  

But even that is a walk in the park for your boyfriend. He skillfully evades their pathetic attacks with either his strong arms or his fangs, leaving the floor covered with striking red blood.

One remaining hunter turns your way, a wooden stake in his hands ready to plunge it into your undead heart. But he doesn't get far. You use your legs to push him away and he falls back before crawling over to his dropped stake right near your legs. Once he is near enough you snake your legs around his neck and break it with the pressure of your thighs.

Kol has been watching from afar, blood splattered from top to bottom,  knowing that you can handle yourself once these cowards got close enough  “Extra points for style”

“Well, I have the best teacher after all.”

“But not the best boyfriend lately.” He rips open the ropes, the vervain burning his skin briefly “And I apologize for that, Y/N.”Kol helps you to your feet and pulls you into a hug. “Can you forgive me?”

“Of course I forgive you.” You pull back slightly to place a kiss on his lips, accepting his apology, even though you were both fighting about nothing important “We were both wrong, you know? Fighting just to fight. I guess we just make an explosive team.”

“Clearly.” He glances over the quite explosive mess you two caused “But I wouldn't have it any other way.” He steals a kiss himself before intertwining his hand with yours, leading you out of the cold warehouse with every intention to make up for the fighting in every way possible….

Masterlist | Taglists

Tags:

Forevers: @laitalianax3 @shadyladyperfection @imnoaingeal @christinalibertymikaelson @maliae14 @akshi8278 @5-seconds-of-animals @fanobsessed @givemesomehybrid @laserchick101 @bbycastiel1 @bonniebird @originalbish98  @relmi-llorrac @piercethepottorff @captain-amelia-bradley @lauren-novak @drkplum @zayn-baby  @onlygodcanjudgeme-sh @hellhoundlover @not-that-kinda-gurl08 @whatshernamemaria @jaib2-blog @fandomsandotherstuff @hanzas01  @all-hail-supernatural @itsbubbaog@marvel-is-my-job @supernatural-lover-teamfreewill @wendydarling24601 @truelobster @sassymcgonagal1651 @buckysummers @sanity-is-overratedxp

Kol´s Darlings:  @acourtofhopeanddreams@tvmoviegeek3807 @ogstydiashipper @sandyclaws  @vbiggs03  @newurleans @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers  @umlvk

[kivrinengle]

One for Sorrow

one for sorrow

Sorrow is too small a word for it - for the tragedy that devours his family in one terrible night, leaving only Percival, the last sad remnant of what had once been a family. Tragedy, they call it, in hushed whispers: so sad, what happened to those poor people. Sorrow is an insult, a thing too small to stand in the face of murder and destruction and the end of the world.

But sorrow is a beast with teeth of iron, and they rip at his mind and his soul until there is little left of humanity or even sanity. It screams in his head, echoes of all that he has lost - family, home, safety, future - until all that is left is Percy, last sad remnant of what had once been a person. Sometimes, he is not even certain that much remains.

two for mirth

It strikes him, as he is dragged away from his target by armed guards, that this is probably exactly how his family would have expected his attempt at revenge to go. There had always been a fond, gentle mockery of his tendency to mess things up because he was so deeply buried in his studies or his work. He had been known to walk into walls or fall into ingenious practical jokes set by his younger siblings. Mother would have shaken her head, hiding a smile, and Father would have taken him aside for a quick speech on the need to keep a clear focus on the things that were in front of him. They wouldn’t have been surprised by his latest failure.

It is simply typical of him, he muses, strangely absent from himself as he is unceremoniously hauled toward a building that can only be a prison. And that is a startling reassurance, and one that he had not even looked for - that something of who he was Before has survived.

He laughs at that - a bitter, broken thing, creaking with disuse. He has not laughed in months - years - decades? - not since the end of his world. There is nothing amusing in any of it. There might be nothing amusing left in all of Exandria. But Percy laughs, and thinks it is possible that he might still exist.

three for a death

He has seen so much death that sometimes he is not sure he will ever get the smell of it out of his nostrils. He has been up close and personal with death several times since the first time it came calling, and he imagines he is now immune to it. The deaths of sailors at sea had never broken through the fog that surrounded him - not the almost-friend who fell overboard in a storm, nor the cook, dying slowly of infection from a bad burn. Even the sudden, sharp loss of a tiny cabin boy who ought never to have been aloft passed over him like mist before the bow of a ship, and he breathed through it and felt nothing. Death had come too close, and bore him no terrors, now.

Or so he thinks.

But there is a cat in the dank prison into which he is thrown, and somehow, Percy becomes almost fond of the battered old thing. It creeps through the bars of his cell to attend to the vermin, and sometimes he wakes from fitful slumber to find it curled up against him, the one spot of warmth against the chill of stone and iron chains. He hardly remembers warmth or softness. The rumble of the cat’s purr does something inside his chest, and Percy finds himself saving bits from his horrid rations to try and tempt the cat back, to ensure one more moment of warmth and connection.

And when he wakes one bitter morning to find the old cat curled up in his lap, cold and still, Percy realizes that Death is not through with him. He pets the tiny, stiff corpse with absent fingers, and lets the tears spill down his cheeks. He wouldn’t mind if death came for him now, but for the revenge he had promised himself on his family’s murderers. He is not afraid of it.

He still weeps.

four for a birth

Percy had been almost present at the births of all of his younger siblings. He had waited a few rooms away, keeping pace with his father’s anxious pacing, and had gone away and made pompous notes in his pompous diary about the event after the fact. The only birth he did not remember was his own - which was as it should be, of course. No-one ought to remember their own birth.

He prayed, in the end, in that prison cell - for something, anything, to give him guidance, to show him a way forward. Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III had never held with deities, or faith in anything other than what he could see and touch. The shattered fragment that remains of him is no longer certain of anything, and addresses a prayer to parties unknown.

Something happens.

His new life rushes in on him before he is prepared for it, all violence and blood and noise and chaos. He seems to find himself yanked from the familiar surroundings of his cell with hardly more than a word (though that seems unlikely, when he thinks back on it later. His new companions never do anything without talking it over to the point of absurdity.) A huge, terrifying someone claps him hard on the back, knocking him to his knees as his legs tremble from hunger and disuse, and someone else pulls him back up and urges him forward, wrapping a warm cloak around his shoulders.

“Don’t worry,” one of the newcomers says soothingly. “It’s all much worse than it seems. You’ll be regretting meeting us in no time.”

And Percy is dragged forward into a new life, a new family, in the strangest sort of rebirth that he could imagine. He hates to imagine which of the deities might be responsible.

five for silver

“Yes, you’ve explained about the weapon,” one of the dark-haired twins tells him patiently, some time after they’ve escaped his prison. He doesn’t know how long it’s been. He’s better now, truly he is, but he still loses time, or finds himself in places without knowing how he got there. It’s not his biggest problem. “We get it. It’s very important, and we shouldn’t touch. But you’re not answering the question.”

The other one pops up, and Percy spends some time wondering if this is, perhaps, his mind playing tricks on him. That happens sometimes, too. Are there really two of them? “Yes, darling,” this one says, more wariness than warmth in the tone. “We’re not asking anything difficult - just your name.”

They have no idea how difficult that is. His name was something, once - almost something of importance. Now, it is the only thing of value he has left. He is likely the only person remaining in the world who even knows it. He’d gone by something on the ship - not his real name, he knows - but he cannot remember what it had been. It hadn’t mattered.

His hand slips to the weapon at his side, finger tracing over the names engraved in five of the six barrels. Names have power, he knows; he doesn’t trust any of these people.

A tiny figure is by his side when he blinks his way back from thought, and the face of the little gnome is serious. She doesn’t try to touch him. He appreciates that.

“You don’t need to give us anything,” she murmurs, the words almost lost in the chatter of the group. “Not if it matters to you. But we kind of need something to call you.”

“I could name ‘im,” the goliath puts in cheerfully. “I’m really good at names.” The gnome gives Percy a wide-eyed look that tells him he doesn’t want to take the goliath up on this offer.

Percy stands up, not without effort, and wanders across the campsite. They all give him space, watching him warily; they do not know what they have brought into their midst. He makes his way slowly to the nearby stream, lowering himself to his knees at it’s edge. He feels like an old man these days, battered by a weary life. As he leans over the water, still and clear here in a tiny pool that has collected by one bank, he doesn’t know the face that looks back at him.

His hair is a singular shock of silver, standing up at odd angles, looking nothing like the boy who had stared at him from his mirror back at Whitestone so many years before. He hadn’t seen his reflection much since; had gotten good at shaving without benefit of a mirror aboard ship, like the other sailors. The pale, silvery ghost who looked up at him from the water looked right, though. This was what the last survivor of Whitestone ought to look like.

But he didn’t look like Percival.

“Just-” he muttered, shaking his head when he realized several of the group were standing around staring at him again. He’d probably lost time again, off in his own head while his hands shook and his body stayed frozen. “Just call me Percy.”

six for gold

Vex is a light, golden and glorious. She is the first one he trusts - as much as he trusts anyone, now. She is brutally honest from the start, and he thinks that he loves her for that; he wonders if he even remembers what that word once meant.

“So,” she says, coming up beside him as he stares into the flames of their little campfire late that first night. He’s said that he would take the midnight watch, but he doesn’t blame her for sitting up with him. He wouldn’t trust any of them to watch his back, either; he will lie awake all night, and likely for some time to come. “Percy.”

“Yes? Hello?” he tries awkwardly after a moment passes, and nothing more is said.

“This is a bit awkward,” she says, stretching out the words in an unnatural sing-song. “And nobody else wants to bring it up, because they’re all cowards, so I sort of have to.”

“You want me to leave,” he says flatly. That makes sense, after all. He nods, already thinking of what he needs to bring when he leaves in the morning.

“No! No, no, no,” she says quickly, flapping her hands at him. “Well, Vax does, but only because he’s a suspicious bastard. I’m just…not sure that we’re the best fit for you, perhaps?” Her voice trails away, gone high and vague, and Percy frowns at her.

“How do you mean?”

She sighs, dragging her hands down her face. “Well, it’s just…” She stops, and starts again. “You seem a bit … sickly. Which is fine, don’t get me wrong! But we’re a band of mercenaries who aren’t always good at actually getting paid, you understand. And as soon as we do get a bit of gold, I barely get my hands on it before everyone’s rushing off to spend it!” Vex is so comically over-annoyed by this that Percy wishes he remembered how to smile like a person. “Anyway,” she says, breathing long and deep. “I’m only saying that we’re all going to feel really bad if you up and die on us because we couldn’t afford to look after you, so maybe you want us to take you to a village and set you up somewhere that you can rest peacefully?”

He watches her for a long moment, trying to figure out her angle, the threat she poses, the danger lurking in the shadows - and then he gives up. He is tired, and she is so honest right now that it almost hurts. He reaches into the bag at his side and pulls out his leather money bag, tossing it to her without breaking eye contact. She catches it on reflex, gasping as she glances inside it.

“I didn’t mean you needed to pay us!” Vex shoves it back at him, some strange mixture of offended and already grieving the loss. “We may be mercenaries, but we’re a bit above beating up dying prisoners for their gold, thank you!”

“I’m not dying,” he protests mildly. He gathers up the bag and holds it out to her, pleased that his hands aren’t shaking now. “I have gold. I don’t need it, I don’t want it, and I don’t know how to look after it. That was-” he breaks off. That was Vesper’s job, from the moment she turned twelve and had insisted on Father letting her take over from the bookkeeper who had been skimming money from the family accounts. “I want you to have it,” he says again after a moment. “I’ll tell you when I need some of it for my work, and you can do what you like with the rest.”

She watches him for a long time, but he knows she will take the offer, if only from the way her fingers keep twitching toward the bag. “Fine,” she says in the end, taking the bag from him gently, now. “But if I get to decide what to do with it, the first thing we’re doing is buying you some clothes that aren’t rags. Also, food. Lots of it.” She frowns at his skinny wrists, and the bag disappears somewhere about her person.

Percy stares back at the fire, and thinks he can remember how to smile if he gives it a bit of thought. He is lighter without the weight of the gold.

seven for a secret never to be told

Honest people didn’t keep secrets, Mother had told him time and again. The de Rolos had an obligation to be honest with their people, or they stood to do nothing but damage to those who relied on them. Percival had been a bit of a secretive child, though, and kept his more dangerous tinkering experiments to himself, though not without a rush of guilt when Mother looked at him knowingly.

But someone had been keeping a secret, he has decided over time. Something about Whitestone, some secret he had never been privy to, had been the downfall of his entire house. He isn’t certain whether he wishes he had known the secret or not. If he’d known, he would have blurted it out under Ripley’s cunning hands; but, then, if he’d known anything of value, there would at least have been a purpose to torturing him. As it is, he bears the scars of someone else’s secrets. He doesn’t even bother pretending he hasn’t got secrets of his own, now.

Trust grows slowly between Percy and the other members of their little band, but somehow he blinks, and it has been nearly half a year, and he has seven other people whom he trusts with his life, and who trust him with theirs. He is never going to take that responsibility lightly.

He makes himself a mental list of all of the secrets that might pose a threat to them, ranking and ordering them, and tries to work out whether he can divest himself of any of them. The difficulty is, though, that for all their prowess at magic and fighting, Percy is sometimes shocked to realize just how foolhearty and juvenile their group can be. They call themselves Vox Machina now, but the SHITS had been more honest.

How can he let them know about the Briarwoods, when Grog and Scanlan are as likely to be using their heads as battering rams to see whose cracks first as they are to be thinking? How can he share the dangerous truth of his own full identity, while he watches Keyleth and Pike get so drunk they can’t stand up, howling all their secrets to the sky in great laughing gusts of careless joy?

How can he tell anyone the secret that truly scares him - the dark monster that haunts his dreams - when Vax and Vex change moods on a dime, weaving through unpredictable extremes of emotion faster than he can keep up?

Percy burns his mental list, consigning it all to his own memory, and vows to keep his secrets.

(Two weeks later, they will encounter a haughty government employee who seeks to stand between them and the information they need, and Percy will burst out with his whole name, every aristocratic syllable of it tinged with scornful disdain that accomplishes his goals. He won’t even remember that he meant to keep it from them forever. After all, they’ll never get it right.)

eight for a wish

Cassandra had used to wish on stars. Percy remembers this sometimes, on night watches when the stars are very bright, though the skies lack the crisp, cold clarity of Whitestone nights. She had used to bully him into standing witness for her wishes, insisting on the proper form of the thing. He cannot remember any of those little-girl wishes now - just the solemn intensity of her, staring up with the determination to make the universe itself bend to her will.

Percy does not make wishes. He has learned, so well, that he is not a person who should be allowed to want things. His choices throw that up to him at every turn, his failures showing in stark relief what happens when Percy de Rolo wants things beyond his reach. He cannot protect his family, cannot kill Anna Ripley, cannot seek vengeance on those who destroyed his life. These are not things he can want - not without dark and terrible consequences.

But he cannot help but make one wish, a small, pitiful thing in the unending gloom of the Underdark, when it seems they will never find their way out again. He thinks of Cassandra, under the clear skies, and closes his eyes, and wishes to see the stars again.

Surely that is a small enough thing for him to wish.

nine for a kiss

It isn’t until both of the twins have kissed him that Percy actually pays any attention.

Vax’s jubilant embrace in the Underdark had been nothing more than wild delight at the prospect of escape, and had been mostly lost in the chaos of that flight.

When Vex kisses him, too, his brain sits up and pays attention.

Thinking is hard, sometimes. Keeping track of time, especially in the foggy bits before he met Vox Machina, is often beyond Percy. He is very certain, though, that it has been years since he made any sort of direct physical contact with another being. Certainly, people had attacked and beaten him, or dragged him around; there had been fleeting touches of healing magic or brushes in the middle of combat. He’d been hit by just about every sort of weapon imaginable.

But Vax and Vex have both kissed him, and Percy has to sit down and think about that. And Keyleth has leaned over his shoulders, and Grog has slapped him on the back until he fell over, and, and, and…

He has to put his face in his hands and breathe deeply for a while. Somehow, while he wasn’t looking, Percy has become a part of this strange, broken little family - welcomed, integrated, loved. Somehow, his defences fell so low that he hadn’t even noticed he was past the boundaries of propriety and familiarity.

Vax cuffs him fondly on the head as he passes, ruffling Percy’s hair. “Don’t think too hard, there,” he says with a smirk that Percy can just hear. “I don’t want to be responsible for cleaning up when that brain of yours explodes.”

And Percy reaches a hand up to touch where Vax had pressed his hand, awed almost past the point of thought.

He is one of them. He is someone whom they like, and trust, and rely on. They laugh and cry and eat and sleep and fight together - as though Percy is a real person, as though he is something more than human wreckage, than mere flotsam from the wreck of his life. He has anchors, now. Connections.

Family.

ten for a bird you must not miss

And there he is, standing in front of Silas Briarwood, gun burning in his shaking hands. He doesn’t dare blink, or breathe, or think too hard. There is Silas, teeth gleaming in the moonlight, and his hateful wife not ten paces away. They haven’t aged a day, even as Percy has gone white-haired and taken scar upon scar, wiping away the image of the boy they had once met.

There is Silas in his gunsights, turning to look at him with a look of sheer contempt. Had he looked at Father that way, before murdering him? Had Lady Briarwood worn such a cool expression as his little siblings fell, victims of secrets they had never known? The fuzzy darkness tugs at the back of Percy’s head, temptingly. He could fall into it, escaping this confrontation he was in no way ready for. Something was growling in the back of his mind, a feeling darker and more powerful than he was ready to handle.

But there was a shape at Silas’ feet - a dark pile of rags, hardly moving, and Vax had called them for help, and it wasn’t hard to put facts together. And if Vax was down, and the rest of them were converging on this courtyard together, Percy knew with cold certainty that his chances of losing another family tonight were too high to bear. They were not unarmed children now: but there was Vax, down and still, and Silas looming over him like oncoming death, and Percy swallowed and breathed deep to scream out his hatred to the sky

And he took a breath and steadied his aim

And pushed aside all thoughts of Death, coming to visit him again, and breathed again, until he only had room for one thought:

You must not miss.

And Percy took his shot.

[creaturecosmo]

I came. I saw. I conquered.

Do you ever feel like you’re discredited for all the effort you put into someone? All the sweat you put into making things work and making sure no one gets hurt, and they throw it away like it meant nothing. Maybe it’s their way of coping, maybe it’s their way of moving on. That doesn’t mean I have to be a part of it. I can watch from a distance, I can have a wish to reach out and help them. I can feel the pain of losing them. I can feel the pain of watching them suffer and knowing it’s at my hand. I can feel the pain of their words that demean the past we shared. I can feel the pain of them throwing it away, treating me like nothing ever happened and nothing mattered. I cannot change their feelings. I cannot change their actions. I cannot change their destiny, their mindset, their choices they make regarding myself or others. I can only watch. I can only watch from a distance and know they are suffering and there’s nothing I can safely do to help. The end result will never be worth it. I have learned this the hard way. 

I have learned what it is to be called names. I have been called a coward, worthless, and reckless. I have learned what it is like to be conditioned. I have been conditioned to fight, be submissive under his word, rely on him for everything. I have learned what it is like to be restrained. I have been restrained by his arms, by his voice, by his choices that he’s made without my consent. I have come. I have seen. I have learned. I have lived. I have changed. I have conquered.

I came. I arrived unknowing what the future held for me. I arrived willing to throw myself into him and lose myself. I arrived in a broken state. I arrived into a relationship I thought would be good for me. I arrived into a friendship I valued above all else. I arrived into a new world.

I saw. I witnessed the way he treated others. I witnessed the way he ordered her around. I witnessed the anger he felt towards others. I witnessed the way was able to order those around him without giving direct commands. I saw his power.

I learned. I learned to be dismissive of my feelings. I learned to hold him in the highest respect. I learned to obey. I learned to follow without question. I learned to become blind to his wordless attack on my mind. I learned to shut down and accept what was given. I learned to believe I deserved what he was gifting me with. I learned I was truly beneath him.

I lived. I survived his cold days. I survived his silence. I survived his ignorance, his arrogance. I survived the dreaded months without him. I survived bruises and biting. I survived mental coercion and manipulation. I survived the two years in his control. 

I have changed. I no longer see him as a god. I no longer believe him to be above me, nor myself below him. I no longer believe that I am worthless and cowardly. I no longer see myself and wish I were different. I no longer desire to please him at the expense of my safety and sanity. I no longer desire to be his servant.

I have conquered. I have overcome the harsh words. I have overcome the sullen silence. I have overcome the ache in my heart. I have overcome the paranoia of loneliness. I have overcome the need to always be at his beck and call. I have conquered the desires to be by his side at all times, ready to please, ready to sacrifice. I have overcome his haze.

[bunksun]

10-31-19 / Body Confiscated

I use to fantasize about Heroes a lot, it was my favorite show when I was in middle school, and I wanted Sylar to say all of these things because I had a crush on Zachary Quinto. I hoped he was a good person on the inside and just a victim of circumstance. He got really creepy in the last season though. Something else private I don’t even want to discuss. They’re basically making me say these things and it must be a coincidence I sound like him, but I wasn’t this aware of my situation when I was a kid. I was being abused and I was traumatized and not able to deal with it the way I wanted to. I feel like my inner child is dead because of this constant re-animating of my private thoughts by strangers. I don’t want to live like this ever again. I don’t want to go through this trauma anymore.

*I don’t represent filmmakers and a bunch of actors and actresses. I don’t even think it’s art sometimes. I want to provide real representation for all different sides of life to people who don’t feel like they fit into the spaces that were supposedly reserved for them. (It’s not a competition, these are just my goals. Ew.)*

Nobody knows what kind of boy I am. I have barely even been able to come out. I don’t feel like a citizen. Maybe I just wanted to date Zach in a discreet way or have a normal adult relationship. Why should I have to disclose our every conversation with “yeah, I had a crush on him when I was a kid.” That’s not my personality ! I still don’t know where he is. There’s nothing he doesn’t know, he has the information he needs to make a decision. I don’t want to be living in the presence of this hate either. If everyone knows, and knows that I’m just a random, innocent person, why is there no advocacy of my rights and why is no one breaking the rules to make sure I’m safe? There are no rules. Guilty people made up rules to create a context for harassment and stalking. I don’t want to take responsibility for that - it’s their fault and I need to seek legal reparations with as many guilty people as I can. Maybe everyone will face consequences, and if they don’t maybe we can come up with a disclaimer system so that anybody who realized what a sh*t choice they made can be identified, even though I’m sure they don’t think that’s a good idea! No questions here, only concerns.

It’s not activism to run around saying “don’t commit suicide,” or use your social media to talk about triggering stuff like that without warning. That’s not weird, that’s cruel. Especially to imply it with no emotion and with no confrontation. People need context for their emotions, not reasons to feel bad. It’s like they think any random stranger’s presence will help and that’s just not true. It’s even more insulting because they think they’re entitled to my psychology that way. Just no. This honestly doesn’t even feel like any of my business because they have ignored my struggle and what could be more degrading than that? It was fully their choice and it’s not my responsibility, it will never make sense to me, and not making sense = not being able to live with it. 

Mental health is important. I’m already traumatized and dealing with pre-existing issues. That entire part of my life is private because of the danger that it represents. Not because I’m trying to lie for anyone. That is so obvious by now it’s unacceptable and blatant violence for people to use my own life as leverage against me - and for what? I haven’t done anything wrong and this is all that I can do to help myself. Not just people either - famous people and professional people who should know better than to exploit someone. Definitely not someone like me, ever, and it just gets worse with time. I’m innocent and smart and I’ve earned everyone’s respect. I deserve boundaries and rights even to the most lowly coward. They’ve even confiscated my original blog, tried to offend me through insults, sexual references, etc. threats, sexually harassed me in public, followed me, discriminated against me. They’re putting me in danger, too, more than they already have. It’s disgusting. 

I never would have cared about the hype, Instagram, popular celebrities, whatever - before when it didn’t involve me, because I wasn’t famous, and I had my own experiences to draw from and those things informed my values and opinions. It was hard to come out that way and I think that I learned that celeb support does help people learn about themselves because it’s dignified representation. (Unless it’s not, so, let’s not manipulate people anymore?) I don’t think that this is what acceptable inclusion looks like and that would be the only thing to gain. If they want to interview criminals about what makes them judge victims of abuse or something, they need to do that on their own time and leave me out of it. I want nothing to do with those crude ideas. They shouldn’t be using me as a medium for their morbid interests - it’s already happened, I can see that. Stop making it worse. There’s no way they thought they were helping me and now they know they’re not. Misogyny is gross. I never saw a reason for us to fight, and I would have never protested that way and they’re basically just calling me weak which is pathetic. I’m desperate, so, it’s not like there’s no context for it which only means I’m still vulnerable. Not a crime. It’s not right to test people like that/about any of this. I’m traumatized yet their choices are senseless and cruel.

I don’t want to be in any relationship where I’m threatened and hated. Why is that complicated? I actually know why, so there’s a lot of my existence that’s being extorted and beaten up for no reason. It’s not going to become art and it’s not going to be entertainment. You are shunned.

Also at this point to have to wonder if anyone who cares/knows is actually concerned or not? That isn’t right and it’s been like that the entire time. I don’t know what this is contributing to because I’m not being respected or represented as an artist and activist. That makes drawing from the evidence a devastating process. That’s something I have to do for my sanity and for the sake of justice. Everybody does this when they go through something awful. I don’t know why no one will empathize with me, but I feel empathy and I feel pain and I can’t justify human torture.

If you were that stupid that you wanted to hate me for trying to be in the moment, I hope you’re embarrassed/ashamed and I think you’re an idiot, but it doesn’t change that I’m alone and traumatized and I don’t want to abandon my life and this could mean you. You can’t put terms and conditions on your relationship with someone out of judgment and fear when those are not real concerns because of that person. I don’t know why you would project your problems onto your only trusted friend, and someone who represents progress, equality and respect. Don’t be a thief. 

I need to recover and I want to be around people who support me and feel like I can be a part of society again. I might have PTSD but I’m not a fragile or violent person. Nothing about this has re-introduced me to society or anything similar. That’s the intention I feel with optimism, and it’s confusing. I know there’s nothing wrong with me. The entire motivation is dirty and weird and I want people to be transparent about everything. I feel isolated and abused. These people around me are gross. They are stalking me, there is no grey area and I don’t know why you would commit a crime and live in voluntary silence. I’m worried not just about what you’re doing, but what you want to represent and why you made the choices you did. The fact that this would privately validate anyone in some way is disturbing and not normal or healthy. Due process should have been a part of this! I didn’t deserve to be stalked and harassed, there is no excuse or justification, even that I can’t seek justice. WOW that is redundant and scary. These people are fear mongers and cowards. They’re perverts and they need to be identified. 

I’m not a hateful person and I don’t live for making judgments about others. These were serious crimes and trespasses against my rights/boundaries that I won’t recover from by complaining and I don’t want to live the pain because I have so, so extensively. I can’t describe it, I’m crippled by it. These are kids on college campuses, business-owners, blue collar-workers, they could be anyone and everyone in their lives is at risk and they are aware of the threat that represents as well. They’ve invaded my privacy and committed a crime and they’re justifying it to themselves every day, somehow. That’s not of interest to me - that’s an abuse of my human rights. I’m not an object or a puppet and I refuse to let my private information be open to interpretation and re-imagination by prejudiced bigots who have too much - and I have refused to let my body be used as a medium for sex abuse and violence. They don’t care. That’s a problem, not a conflict of interest. Unless these college students want to be represented by a rapist, they’re guilty of sexual violence, and not only should all of these people be facing consequences, these kids shouldn’t be allowed to finish school and they have no place invading others’ privacy, safety and manipulating everyone’s experience of life. I have not done this. I’m advocating for myself, I’m not guilty of anything conspiratorial or anything violent. Being victimized does not make me feel innocent, it makes me feel burdened. This is not what responsibility looks like - I am just a responsible person. It’s not a soapbox for people to express their opinions on. It needs to be over with!!!

[callmenickk]

All The Things She Said

Remember in elemetary when our teacher required us to write an essay? This feels more like it. Not that I have nothing to write (God, no); There is just too much to tell. So how do I even begin.

Right now I sit by a room unfinished. This was where I left off. I don't have to leave now. I'll stay...to this blank space I can finally work my magic on — play my sound, paint my visions, read and reread, rewrite the chapters I was too caught up to finish and just...break through.

I really wish people had to stop judging me. Not at all times that I have to be on the pedestal. Trust me, I already have enough criticisms to my self. But some people just don't have the empathy no matter how hard I look — and that is how I'm willing to drop it off.

I can do errands; I can surely follow orders. I can even buy coffee and photocopy papers if no one else will. But I am done settling for a monotonous routine. Living in the city without motivation did sap out my whole being that I forgot what was it that use to fuel the fire that burns within. So I became side-tracked. And it was depressing so it had to end.

I am and will not be a mediocre.

I really had a great year coming through — 2018 was the awesomest! That is why it is so important that I dump all the bad of it behind. Maybe just one big dumping. And i'll be over.

T H E  L A W  B U I L D I N G

I've been walking around the street near a law building now for three years. It never came across my mind to take up such degree.  But every so often, someone somewhere is aggravated, an unorganized community satisfyingly settles to an old, more familiar routine, and the cowards refuse to come out of their despicable, vile shells. I can't blame them. But quite frankly, do they ever not get tired? Continuing as it is? Cause I am. To be in a place where I have my constraints because anything I do, disgraceful or proper, lawful or not, chains back to my dear family from unapologetic people who're sharp to my lapses! I don't have to prove it. You can never tell a (highly) intuitive woman wrong.

Fire your guns to your rightful targets, why am I taking the bullet?

This goes far beyond to how I value harmony to where I am and who I'm with — and that maybe wanting it badly means having to put yourself dirty in the mud, too. So this year, I had to step it up a little. Baby steps. Just baby steps. Law is the dream. On a more technical view, I am going to need a harsh warm-up cause its been awhile from school. Major reading and catching up current events! Plus, leveling up the EQ because this is usually where my level of sanity skips itself from yield limit to rupture. Reference that from Stress- strain diagram. (My engineering is not at lost.)

Anyway, while I can't have it yet I'll have my own little ways; and I am so done just sitting at a corner.

Courage, don't you fail me now.

T H E  B A B Y

And then there is this. (I'm over the bad now...all too quick just like that)

Do you ever believe in prophecies? I don't want to be sure, I never am. But I think that God might have blessed me with it, too. I've had significant dreams before that played an important factor to my surroundings. And that at some point, my alternate subconscious intellect is just overpowering. We can't dismiss it. Dreams have their own power, too. Which leads me to.

T H E  O N E

Almost, but not quite.

Do you have a boyfriend, they ask. None, I said. Always a face of doubt. Always. The kind of look that says Liar. Okay, I am not lying. You have the wrong question to ask ergo you never get the answer you want to hear. I don't have a boyfriend, but I have someone that I love. And lest it gets down that serious lane, I am forever playing the dare-you-not-mention-his-name. I don't wanna be deleting him on my feed in time (its a millennial ordeal hahaha secondly, we argue too).

So, why? Okay, why.

This is an era for the millennials. Wake up, darling. Natapos na ang kapanahunan ng harana (so I'll learn my keyboard instead). I may be looking for an 'extinct' man now. So, yah.

But he's bit different.

I need to find a potential in a man. Not just anyone who'll only want to get under your skin (what is happening with the world), no, I don't want that. I want something real. And more than anything, I don't have to fight for love, I don't have to deal with the wrong. I can be certain, the one that God meant for me will come along. Now, baby, that is called patience.

Moreover, my travels and constant soul searching pushes me to make a difference in this world. (Shoutout to awesome Bali & Iloilo humans) I will continually be a good influnce for those who look up to me esp the kids. And one day when it will be time, I can teach my lessons and show good things to my children.

T H E   R E W I N D

Wounds have healed. It has been years, for Pete's sake. I know I'm okay now. When my estranged old friends and I crossed our paths a month ago, I didn't feel bad anymore. I was sorry. They needed that closure too and I will not begrudge that from them. Can't help but miss the memories though. After all, we shared a lot of ourselves before things got bad. But maybe it is true when they say you just miss the memories...and not the people. All is well.

T H E  N E W  O N E S

I met a few good people I could keep forever this year. Isn't it ironic how things take up a turn when you're all ready to leave?

Before I started working in the city, I promised myself it won't be long. Just had to find the right time to leave and had three attempts. For the last one it had to be final.

I really can't quite decipher my God of what He wants to happen in my life. (Praying is imperative.) Is this just a trial, Lord? Cause I'm constantly enduring but I give in to that button too. I give up. Tell me it is okay to give up when the going gets tough.

I'm so sorry if I had to say goodbye. I didn't mean for them to feel bad. No amount of advice and comforting will change the fact that I hurt them still. But this really is life. If you get a hello, you get a goodbye. Learn to juggle the good and the bad, cause this is what life is all about.

I feel especially responsible for Yolie, cause I will not be around for the year to come. But this girl is tough. And I'll just be around watching her, guiding her. She will be loved.

T H E   C O N C L U S I O N

To the one reading this, everything that I just said was very personal. It is like taking a piece of me throwing it out on the open for angry wolves to devour — not even knowing if it'll be worth it or not. But every bit of my vulnerability is your vulnerability, too. This world doesn't always have to be a place of strong, guarded faces. Knowing that you took your time to read this makes a connection somehow. Isn't that amazing? For one bit, I impact your life. It may sound trite but it is true. You have it within you to impact others something good as well. I hope and pray that you will embrace uncertainties too as much as how you have your life figured. Acknowledge your fears wholeheartedly cause I feel like you too are holding it back. Take it from a good marvel quote I know by heart (from Doctor Strange movie),

We never lose our demons, Mordo. We only learn to live above them. — The Ancient One

Well, ready or not, it isn't an endgame yet, that's for sure. Cheers to an awesome year ahead. Claim it and it will be yours!🎄✨