#don’t post spoilers okay I’m still playing!
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heartburriedinvenice · 1 day ago
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the end is undeniably near (and i keep running towards it) - steve h.
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(steve harrington x hopper!reader)
a part of my phoebe challenge 🎞🪐💌🕯
based on the song "i know the end" by phoebe bridgers
in which you always wanted to escape hawkins, indiana, until you didn't anymore.
or
in which the billboard said "the end is near"
content warning post season 3 (SO SPOILERS), mild cursing (maybe), ANGST like the whole time, unhealthy coping, and hawkins being hawkins, reader is an implied theater kid (im sorry not sorry)
a / n i disappeared on y’all, I’m sorry!! you know life is getting weird when i randomly return to tumblr.  just dipping my toes back in the water of all this so i apologize if i am a little rusty. this is just a piece of a hopper!reader show rewrite that has been in the works for a while so if anyone likes it enough, lmk, I’d be be happy to start posting the whole thing,starting from season 1! any feedback would be awesome (and also requests cause I need inspo back). okay enjoy some angst!
No one ever got out of Hawkins, Indiana. Like the town was somehow enclosed within some heavy-duty bubble, only a few people ever got the nerves to squeeze through. Until you did, until you did the one thing you believed was impossible. You packed your bags, loaded up your car, and left hell. And you did it without a goodbye because the only way to do the impossible was without one. And deep down you knew you were a coward, even after fighting monsters and otherworldly creatures, you were a coward. You could not face what was left behind or allow yourself to acknowledge it.
And it ate away at you in a way you could have never imagined. Too busy pretending like it never crossed your mind, like Hawkins never existed in the first place. Still, it chipped at you piece by piece until the guilt of escaping Hawkins, Indiana finally caught up with you. Until one day that guilt would sneak up and trip you, sending you tumbling all the way back down a hill to only land right back at the gates of Hawkins, at its green sign, Welcome to Hawkins! That warm welcome, the warmest welcome, with its murders and second dimensions and its people. Those people. Those people who worked their way so deep into your heart before you could even realize it. So deep that leaving felt like removing deeply grown roots from a garden, so impossible, so hard to tell where they even stopped growing.  You weren’t sure entirely when they grew so deep, you don’t really remember at all how they got there. When you let them? Why did you let them? After everything, you should have known better. You shouldn’t have let them.
You were fifteen when you knew you could never live in Hawkins, Indiana your whole life. It never felt real, artificial, fake. Mass-produced nuclear families and white picket fence houses and stale dead-end jobs. 
And then Steve Harrington needed an extra art credit and found his way as the lead in Hawkins High’s production of Romeo and Juliet. When rehearsing turned into giving Steve girl advice and driving with him to drop off flowers. When running lines became swinging a bat of nails and finding an alien in a fridge. When the day before the play performance had turned into icing Steve's bruises on your couch as you ran lines back and forth because neither of you could sleep. When a whole group of middle schoolers sat in the front row and your dad sat center with a bouquet of flowers. They were your family. Your strange and messy family all pretending to be interested in the gibberish mess of Shakespeare on stage. Them watching with stifled laughs as Steve stumbled through lines, as the balcony scene turned into him and you having a staring contest trying to figure out whose lines were next. And though your director would have your heads later, the two of you sat giggling during intermission and had to hold the laughter again when your director asked why you didn’t have time to be memorized to perfection. Because you had all the time in the world, didn’t you?. 
Unbelievable as it was, you began to question what you at fifteen had promised you would do. Because you had found more than stale every day Hawkins. You had found their odd-balls who taught you to play Dungeons and Dragons in their basement, who reminded you so much of your sister. And you had found Steve Harrington, a pretty boy with a heart of gold, who risked his life for his Juliet that night at the mall. Who held you tight when it all got too much.
When you moved back to Hawkins, Indiana, after Sara, after your parents split, you were sure life would never be the same again. You needed a fresh start, to completely reconfigure your life and pretend none of what had happened had happened. That you never had a sister, that your dad hadn’t completely changed, burrowing himself under alcohol and late shifts. That your mom wasn’t actively trying to forget and build another life over the one that had been left abandoned in that New York apartment. You were so sure you would have to move on, cut it all out the minute you graduated from high school. You were sure you had to escape on your rickety old bike right out of town.
Then things happened and somehow you found yourself again, found your father again as you sat together for your first Christmas dinner in years. Celebrating the return of the young Will Byers and the return of something else, something more, something familiar and warm. It wasn’t perfect, far from it, but it was yours. You saw your father again for the first time in years that night, Christmas Eve, sitting on the porch as light snow fell and hit your heads, bundled in warm jackets, pretending the coffee you made was not mediocre at best. The police chief and his daughter, a messy duo. And that was perfect to you.
And then things happened again and again and again and finally everything just shattered.
And you left. You did what you had always hoped to do. But you didn’t feel the pride you had thought you would feel when you dreamed it at fifteen. You weren’t heading towards a new life, you were sitting in a stuffy apartment in the city. You were stuck again at what felt like the beginning. Unable to go with the Byers, you immediately made other plans, back at the apartment you had spent so many nights trying to forget. 
No one ever got out of Hawkins, Indiana. Like the town was somehow enclosed within some heavy-duty bubble, only a few people ever got the nerves to squeeze through. Until you did, until you did the one thing you believed was impossible. You packed your bags, loaded up your car, and left hell. And you did it without a goodbye because the only way to do the impossible was without one. And deep down you knew you were a coward, even after fighting monsters and otherworldly creatures, you were a coward. You could not face what was left behind or allow yourself to acknowledge it.
And it ate away at you in a way you could have never imagined or wanted to imagine. Too busy pretending like it never crossed your mind, like Hawkins never existed in the first place. Still, it chipped at you piece by piece until the guilt of escaping Hawkins, Indiana finally caught up with you. Until one day that guilt would sneak up and trip you, sending you tumbling all the way back down a hill to only land right back at the gates of Hawkins, at its green sign, Welcome to Hawkins! That warm welcome, the warmest welcome, with its murders and second dimensions and its people. Those people. Those people who worked their way so deep into your heart before you could even realize it. So deep that leaving felt like removing deeply grown roots from a garden, so impossible, so hard to tell where they even stopped growing.  You weren’t sure entirely when they grew so deep, you don’t really remember at all how they got there. When you let them? Why did you let them? After everything, you should have known better. You shouldn’t have let them.
You were fifteen when you knew you could never live in Hawkins, Indiana your whole life. It never felt real, artificial, fake. Mass-produced nuclear families and white picket fence houses and stale dead-end jobs. 
And then Steve Harrington needed an extra art credit and found his way as the lead in Hawkins High’s production of Romeo and Juliet. When rehearsing turned into giving Steve girl advice and driving with him to drop off flowers. When running lines became swinging a bat of nails and finding an alien in a fridge. Or jumping into a hole in the ground and lighting up never-ending tunnels of vines straight from those horror movies you used to watch with your sister. When the day before the play performance had turned into icing Steve's bruises on your couch as you ran lines back and forth because neither of you could sleep. When a whole group of middle schoolers sat in the front row and your dad sat center with a crumble bouquet of flowers. They were your family. Your strange and messy family all pretending to be interested in the gibberish mess of Shakespeare on stage. Them watching with stifled laughs as Steve stumbled through lines, as the balcony scene turned into him and you having a staring contest trying to figure out whose lines were next. And though your director would have your heads later, the two of you sat giggling during intermission and had to hold the laughter again when your director asked why you didn’t have time to be memorized to perfection. Because you had all the time in the world, didn’t you?. 
Unbelievable as it was, you began to question what you at fifteen had promised you would do. Because you had found more than stale every day Hawkins, you had found their odd-balls who taught you to play Dungeons and Dragons in their basement who reminded you so much of your sister. And you had found Steve Harrington, a pretty boy with a heart of gold, who risked his life for his Juliet that night at the mall, pulling you up when you twisted your ankle running up a flight of stairs and getting you out to paramedics when it was over. Icing your ankle and holding you when it all got too much. When you watched everyone exit the mall but the only real family you felt like you had left. When the police told you your fathers body couldn’t be found, buried under ash and grime in the mall fire. That he was the hero, that he saved your lives sacrificing himself. 
When you moved back to Hawkins, Indiana, after Sara, after your parents split, you were sure life would never be the same again. You needed a fresh start, to completely reconfigure your life and pretend none of what had happened had happened. That you never had a sister, that your dad hadn’t completely changed, burrowing himself under alcohol and late shifts. That your mom wasn’t actively trying to forget and build another life over the past one that had been left abandoned in that New York apartment, calling only for holidays and those important life events she was so sad she had to miss. You were so sure you would have to move on, cut it all out the minute you graduated from high school. You were sure you had to escape on your rickety old bike right out of town.
Then things happened and somehow you found yourself again, found your father again as you sat together for their first Christmas dinner in years. Celebrating the return of the young Will Byers and the return of something else, something more, something familiar and warm. It wasn’t perfect, far from it, but it was steps in a direction. You saw your father again for the first time in years that night, Christmas Eve, sitting on the porch as light snow fell and hit your heads, bundled in warm jackets, pretending the coffee you made was not mediocre at best. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something for the two of you. The police chief and his daughter, a messy duo. And that was perfect to you.
And then things happened again and again and again and finally everything just shattered.
And you left. You did what you had always hoped to do. But you didn’t feel the pride you had thought you would feel when you dreamed it at fifteen. You weren’t heading towards a new life, you were sitting in a stuffy apartment in the city. You were stuck again at what felt like the beginning. Unable to go with the Byers, you immediately made other plans, back at the apartment you had spent so many nights trying to forget. 
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Spring of 1986, the New York apartment was driving you insane. You felt like you might start running up the walls if you didn’t get out soon. At least that would be ten times more interesting than sitting and watching your Step-Dad watch golf—a sport you didn't understand. Seeing how bored you were, he tried to explain it, but you didn't process a single word he was saying.
You didn’t want to have something with him, you didn’t want a thing you bonded over and you especially didn’t want that thing to be golf.
You debated moving, you debated being drastic and dying your hair to make your mom upset but what good would that do other than feed the part in yourself that no longer cared, no longer wanted to care. Everything you cared about had slipped from your grasp, had disappeared, no matter how tightly you clutched it was gone.
Fuck.
You stared at the wallpaper, one you knew your mom had probably gushed over at the store and chosen. And you glanced at the patterned carpet, and the family picture you were not in. And even though they all reassured you that you were family, deep down you knew you had uprooted their whole routine. You especially saw it in your moms eyes when she looked at you a little too long, a constant reminder of what she had lost all those years ago.  
You listened to the busy city traffic below the apartment and the sound of wailing sirens you had completely become ignorant of after you lived in Hawkins so long. You glanced at the kitchen, the sink with no dishes and a fridge actually filled with food that wasn’t leftover take-out, mediocre pasta you had cooked, or boxes of Eggos. And you looked at the man beside you, silent, watching golf. It was all so different.
Every day it remained that way, your mom got home from work late, your stepfather came home before you got back from school, and then Liam, your step brother would come home.
He made it all a little more bearable. The littlest but only because he reminded you of home. He reminded you of Dungeons and Dragons in Mike Wheeler's basement, and your found sister, and the party that always had you on your toes. But even you could not warm up to the boy because he would never be them. And it was unfair. It was cruel of you to make comparisons between Hawkins and New York, to allow that to shut out the only family you now had. But it was one habit you could not seem to break no matter how hard you tried.
Hawkins, Indiana was quiet, it was small. Hawkins, Indiana was both a breath of fresh air and a tightening grip that had you gasping, clawing for a second to breathe. New York was loud, so loud that the sounds of sirens and blaring car horns became only white noise in your head. It was big, not big in the welcoming and warming way. Not big in the feeling of catching sight of a friend in a crowded room. It was big in the way you could not point out a single person at school that you had seen more than once.  It was big in a way similar to that of being alone in the middle of a large party. It was so big that being alone in a quiet, dark, empty room would feel the same as walking amidst the large crowds on the street.
And New York didn’t have Steve Harrington. New York didn’t have crazy kids and weird aliens, New York didn’t have Robin Buckley or Nancy Wheeler or Jonathan Byers, New York didn’t have comforting hugs from Joyce, and New York didn’t have your dad and it never would again. The thought of it was enough to make you sick, nausea filling every inch of your body, barely able to swallow down the fact. But you would swallow it down like you always did, like you did everything else.
Your mom would always tell you you could talk to her if you needed to, that no matter how long you were a part she still cared about you. But you still remember the look on her face when you had turned up at the apartment after all those years. Finally back together face to face, the only words she was able to muster was, “you grew up”. 
You kept busy filling the days with nothing. On a good day Liam would show you some project he did in class that day, him seemingly the most unbothered by your move-in. And your stepdad, Bill, would ask you how school was to which you would reply fine. It was fine, it would always be just fine.
And you would stare at the phone on the wall in the kitchen. Dialing and hanging up and dialing and hanging up, hearing him pick up and then slamming the phone down, falling back into the chair at the kitchen table. Sometimes he would call back, you knew he caught on, you would just listen as the phone rang, head in your hands. You couldn’t face it, it was all too much and answering that call, hearing that voice would only throw it all back at you at once. It would knock you down and hold you there as you tried to gain control of the emotions you had locked up so tight once again. You felt sick to your stomach once again and the feeling spread, it spread all throughout your body, all the way to your fingertips and toes. For the first time in your life, you begged your body to just throw up, hoping the feelings would go along with it, until the pit in your stomach was completely washed away. 
It was this sinking feeling every time you heard the phone ring and as much as you wanted to convince yourself otherwise, you weren’t sure if you would ever pick up. Maybe you would just forget about it all. But it was hard when your mind was plagued with images of creatures you could only describe as otherworldly and when every time you looked at yourself in the mirror before a shower your eyes would draw focus to the deep cut scars that littered your body. You would never truly escape Hawkins, Indiana, it was impossible, and it would follow you around until you finally gave up and went back. But you refused to allow it to have that control, until you picked up the phone…by accident.
It was late, a Saturday evening of all things. Your mother was working late that weekend, your step dad was asleep on the couch, and your step brother had abandoned his books on the table and gone to bed. And the phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing, over and over in repeated increments. One call, two minutes passed, another call, three minutes had passed, and a third call with three minutes passing and on and on and on-
“Will you turn the damn thing off!” Yelled the man on the couch, whose deep sleeping was even disturbed by your past trying to creep back in. 
And it worried you, as you apologized and turned back to the phone, head aching from the noise. It worried you because every time before, the phone would ring one, maybe two times before the line went silent. But tonight, you had lost track of just how many times you had slammed the phone down to stop the ringing.
You looked up at the phone again, quiet for much too long, longer than before and RING. RING. RING.
The grunt of your step father filled the empty room and without a second thought, not wanting another lecture from your mom about not getting along with him, you reached for the phone line. Slowly placing it against your ear, you instantly pulled it back as a voice blasted through, louder than the ringing of the phone itself. “Goddammit! please pick up the phone-”
“Hey,” was all you said, it was faint and quiet in contrast, laced with guilt that had piled up from months of avoidance and pretending Hawkins didn’t exist. But it was loud enough to stop the yelling as murmurs and whispers filled the background of wherever your caller was calling from. 
Your Steve Harrington, your Romeo who deserved answers. After everything you had been through he deserved something from you that you had failed to deliver.
“Oh thank god, you don’t know how happy I am to hear your voice,” and what you expected to be anger was anything but, rather the clearest sound of overwhelming relief. Relief that all came crashing down the minute he spoke his next words. “You need to get back here, like... like-“
The sound of struggling came from their end of the phone and your heart rate sped up in a panic, only realizing how tightly you were holding the phone to your ear.
Dustin’s voice quickly came through the line, a complaining Steve evident in the back, “like right now, like ASAP, like as soon as possible.”
Dustin’s voice, his tone did nothing to loosen your grip on the phone, nothing to ease your panic and you almost slammed the phone down again. Back home, back in the familiar, back to memories of people that haunted your every thought. You wondered if they had called the Byers, your sister, you wondered if she was there too. 
“We can pay your bus ticket, but I can’t really explain like this and we just, we need your help,” Dustin practically cried. “We all need you. We can’t let anyone get hurt again.”
That was all you needed. Hawkins had a pull on you, a force you tried to ignore but eventually pulled you back anyways. Steve was back on the line soon after, you already scribbling a note to your mom, phone pressed against your ear by your shoulder. And when you heard his voice again your breath caught in your throat…it seemed to always do that with him.
“Steve, I-”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“No, but, Steve I really, just…I don’t know where to start,” you tried to explain, losing any of the words you had planned to say while lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling. 
“You don’t have to,” he simply said. But you knew you would, you had too many words to speak. “Just show up, just be here. We need you, even if you don’t believe me. It’s getting crazy again.”
Hawkins would never not be.
“I will be,” you reassured, really reassured. “I will be, I promise.”
And if everyone in Hawkins knew something, you never broke a promise, never. You got close sometimes, sometimes it seemed like you would, but you always met your end of the bargain. You said you would be back in Hawkins, Indiana and you would be. Setting the phone down back on it's holder with a quiet click, you jumped from your chair in the kitchen, as the wood chair quietly screeched against the floor. Open and close, open and close, the drawers in the kitchen were opening and closing until you found a tape role, cutting away a piece. Grabbing your note off the counter, you secured the piece to it and stuck it against the fridge where it would be noticed by your mom.
She would know what it meant, you knew she knew all along, that New York hadn’t been your home in a long time. That Hawkins had grown into something much deeper than you could have ever anticipated. And even then, in that kitchen, in that busy city…you knew, the end was near
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alexis-royce · 1 month ago
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How’re those virtues coming along?
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thebearer · 7 months ago
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love me tomorrow |carmen berzatto x reader| part three
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prompt: after time apart, you and carmen meet up for the first time since the fight.
or part three and the final part of the devastation fic (spoiler- the resolution haha). part one and part two can be found here :)
contains: angst. hurt with comfort (finally lol). mentions of mean!carmen, past fighting. past trauma, family trauma. carmen's been to therapy (yay). language. mom!reader x dad!carmen. fluff at the end, i had to make it a little funny and end on a light note bc it felt so heavy lol. word count- 4.7k+
“He’s here,” Sugar announced, the chime of a doorbell following nearly cinematically. 
Your shoulders tightened, stomach twisting with an ache of nerves you tried to swallow. You were so nervous- why were you so nervous? He’d fucked up, not you. He was here to grovel and beg for forgiveness, not you. Still, you felt your hairline prick with heat, hands clammy when you heard the door opening downstairs. 
“Okay,” You tried to steady your voice, exhaling slowly out of your nose. “I’m almost done.” 
Sugar nodded, not leaving, keeping her post behind you. “You know you don’t have to do this.” Sugar looked at you through the mirror, arms folded over her chest, watching you carefully for a sign- anything that would give her a red flag, make her call this off. 
“I know,” You swallowed your buzzing nerves, jittery in the pit of your belly. 
“I’ll tell him to go away. You give me the word, and I’ll kick him out.” Sugar stood, pushing off the door frame and walking towards you. “Seriously. One wrong word, wrong look, anything, he’s gone. Say the word.” 
You gave a small smile. “I think I’ll be alright, but thank you.” You muttered, looking down at your bare ring finger. You still found yourself reaching for your ring, heart spiking in a panic when you’d see it was gone, only to sink when you remembered why- why you left it. 
“I feel like it’s time.” You admitted, trying to convince yourself more than Natalie. You were still unsure, so jarred and hurt by the last time you’d spoken to Carmen. The things he’d said, how he’d hurt you. “I think we have to figure something out.”
“You don’t have to do anything.” Sugar gave you a pointed look. “Trust me, if this was me, Pete would never live that down- never. He’d be at my mercy for the rest of his life, if I even let him back into it.” 
You knew Natalie wasn’t joking, that she would do just as she said, but that was also easy for her to say; when Pete could not fathom ever thinking those things about her, let alone saying them to her. Sometimes you wished Carmen could be softer, a little more like Pete in that way. 
“He’s been going to therapy,” Richie’s voice played in your mind. “He’s, uh, he’s doin’ good. Tryna get better for you, for both of you. He loves you, you know that, sweetheart. He’s just… He’s fucked up, y’know? We all are a little, but he’s workin’ on it.” 
You hoped that was true. For your marriage, for your baby. Sugar and Pete had been taking Teddy to see Carmen. You couldn't bring yourself to see him yet, but depriving him of Teddy felt cruel and inhumane. 
Downstairs, you could hear her gurgling, Carmen’s soft tone greeting her in hushed excitement. It soothed you, even for just a moment, it felt familiar- felt like home. What you’d missed so badly, what you longed for to have again. 
“Uncle Carm, why haven’t you been staying here too?” MJ’s tiny squeak of a voice rang up the stairs, greeting you as you quietly crept down them. 
“MJ,” Pete muttered, shaking his head gently. “C’mon, bud, you know Uncle Carm’s been on a business trip.” 
“Right, yeah.” Carmen nodded, his hand patting Teddy’s back gently, soothing her and him. Just feeling the weight of her back on his chest, it put him at ease. She was bigger now, longer than he remembered, but he tried not to think about that, nose pressing into her soft tufts of hair. 
MJ saw you first, his face falling into a pout. “Aw, does that mean you’re going home?” He whined, looking at you then back at Carmen. “Are you takin’ Anchovy and Teddy?” 
Anchovy skittered towards you, running up the stairs at the mention of his name. He’d been a trooper with MJ and Maggie, both kids enamored with the cat who was less than impressed with them. 
Carmen stiffened at the sight of you, spine rigid, heart skipping and falling in his chest. There was a pause of awkward uncertainty, neither of you sure what to say. “If you’re good,” Sugar stepped in. “Maybe your aunt and uncle will let you play with them a little longer while they go out.” She looked at you, shrugging gently at the suggestion. 
You looked at Carmen, eyes meeting him in a brief, unsure gaze, before nodding. “Yeah, that would be- that would be great, MJ.” You gave a soft smile to the boy. 
Carmen stood, passing Teddy off to Sugar with a quiet muttering of thanks. He met you in the doorway, hand reaching for yours, but stopping himself, pulling back hesitantly. Instead, he held the door open, letting you pass by him first. 
The car smelled like a mix of cleaning supply, masked with car fresheners he’d stuck in the vents. He’d been smoking, more than usual, you were sure of it. He’d gotten down to one a day after Teddy was born, paranoid that he’d give her asthma or a rash or something worse. 
“Um,” Carmen hesitated, his voice shaking in a way that he hadn’t since your first date. “I was… I was thinkin’ we could go somewhere t-to talk?” Carmen’s gaze met yours, lips pressing together, swallowing around the lump in his throat. 
You nodded, your hands clasped in your lap, both of you too rigid, too uncomfortable. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” You looked down at your nails. “We could go get coffee? Go to the one by the restaurant.” 
Carmen’s heart burned with a dull ache. The coffee shop a block from The Bear had been a staple in your relationship. When you’d first moved in together, to the shitty downtown apartment to be closer to the restaurant, Carmen would go every Sunday. Sometimes he’d pick up, other times you’d come with him, sit in the corner seat side by side in a booth- like the couples you used to roll your eyes at, lovesick. 
Someone was already sitting in that booth when you got there, so you settled for a small two seater in the back, secluded and empty. Carmen brought you your coffee without asking, he knew the order by heart now, etched into his mind permanently. 
“Thank you,” You muttered, accepting the paper cup, your eyes not meeting his, but your hands brushing. You didn’t pull away this time. 
Carmen sat across from you, a dread filled silence falling thick between the two of you. His knee bouncing under the table. “I, uh, I wanna talk first if-if that’s good with you.” Carmen’s eyes lifted under his ball cap, pulled low on his head, curls peaking out. 
You nodded, twisting the paper cup around on the table, too nervous to drink it. Carmen took a breath, trying to calm his racing mind. “Take a deep breath before you start. It’s ok to take a second to get your words in order, Carmen. Collect your thoughts.” Dr. Mullins’ words rang through his head. 
“I wanna start by saying that I’m sorry.” Carmen looked at you when he said it, eyes rounding in a pathetically sweet way. “I-I’m sorry and I…I didn’t mean anything I said. I would never- It wasn’t you.” 
You looked down at the table, the familiar heat burning in your nose and throat, a threat of tears already. “Hey,” Carmen said firmly, leaning forward. “C’mon, look at me. Please?” You look at him hesitantly, jaw clenching, trying to keep yourself from crying. 
Carmen held your gaze, his lips pressing together in a tight line to keep his own emotions in. “It wasn’t you.” His gaze was intense but soft all at once, holding yours. “It… It was all me. All of it. I-I was overwhelmed, I was stressed, I fucked up, a-and-” Carmen’s voice cracked, breaking at the end, his hand running over his face to try and calm himself. 
You felt your own eyes well with tears, chin ducking closer into yourself, leaning towards him. You wanted to reach out, to grab his hand that rested on the table, squeeze it in comfort like you always did. Instead, you looked at him, waiting for him to continue. 
“And I shouldn’t have said any of that shit because-because none of it was true.” Carmen continued, his voice strained. 
“So why’d you say it then?” You surprised yourself with the firmness in your tone, edging on a snap. 
Carmen blinked, surprised but not entirely shocked. His knee bounced faster and faster under the table. He took a second, holding his breath before exhaling, trying to keep the growing tightness in his chest to a minimum. 
“I was stressed. I was tired. I-I was overwhelmed, and… and I was an asshole.” Carmen admitted, but you still didn’t seem convinced. You knew him better than anyone, better than Dr. Mullins, better than even Fak or Richie or Sugar. 
“I… I was hurting. I was hurting an-and I was so fuckin’ angry. I don’t-I don’t even know why I was so angry.” Carmen admitted, nodding slowly, eyes flickering from your gaze to his hands nervously. “I just… I think I wanted someone to hurt like I was hurting. I just, I don’t know, I wanted someone else to feel like I was, an-and I should have- it was fuckin’ stupid, an-and selfish, and…” 
Your eyes were glassy with tears you tried to hide, blinking a tear that fell down your cheek, wiping it quickly. Carmen’s chest ached, burned with hurt at the sight of you. 
“And I’ve never regretted anything more in my life.” He looked at you sincerely. “I-I-I never said anything more untrue and fuckin’ stupid in my life.” 
“You…” You took a breath, your voice shaking with emotions. “You really hurt my feelings, Carmen.” You admitted looking at him. He nodded, jaw flexing, neck blossoming with splotches of emotion. 
“I just don’t really understand how-how you didn’t mean to say those things. I mean, clearly you-you’ve thought that before.” Your voice lifted higher and higher, climbing with a cry that threatened to break. “I know you’re saying you didn’t mean those things, and I get that, but my problem is you’ve thought them before-” 
“-No, no, I swear-” 
“-You have, Carmen. Clearly you have. You wouldn’t- You didn’t just come up with that shit out of nowhere.” Your voice was beginning to climb, trying to level it out in the cafe, keeping your composure. You took a breath, pinching the bridge of your nose, pad of your thumb swiping the corner of your eye to catch a stray tear. “Just… Just don’t lie to me.” 
Carmen pressed his hands together, trying hard to remember his breathing while his mind was racing. Sugar was right, it was uncomfortable, worse than he could have imagined. 
“You’re right,” Carmen admitted with a nod. There was no point in lying, not to you, you always knew better, knew him better. “I-I did, but not-not like that. Not,” Carmen’s breath hitched, chest tight with a wave of anxiety. 
“You know wh-when I was at the restaurant, and I… I would be ready to rip my fuckin’ hair out. Everything was just goin’ to shit, o-or we’d realize there was a critic on the books, or I’d forgot to order some shit, I’d be going fuckin’ crazy, ya know?” Carmen rambled, words spilling out in tumbles of jumbled truth.
 “I’d go to my office for a second, just to-just to take a fuckin’ breath, and… and I’d check my phone and I’d see a text from you.” His heart swelled at the memory. You’d text him updates through the day, knowing he’d seen him when he could. Baby Teddy in her crib, Anchovy in the bassinet, her outfit for the day, nap time- all the moments he missed at work because you wanted him to see. You had considered him. Carmen missed it more than words could describe the past days, checking his phone out of habit, hoping to see a little OOTD with a smiley face and a wrinkly baby Teddy attached- instead, he saw nothing. 
“I’d just… I don’t know. I was sittin’ there, just fuckin’ stressed o-or angry, and then I’d see that and I-I’d feel,” Carmen paused. Gather your thoughts, gather your thoughts. 
“I felt… I just felt weird about it?” Carmen’s brows pinched together, looking at you for help, unsure. Your face fell, his heart lurching with fear. 
“No, no, no, no. Not-Not like that. I- fuck, that’s not what- I love the pictures. Love them. I-I- They’re the only things that get me through the day, it-it’s not that-” Carmen stuttered out, head dropping into his hands in defeat. Way to go, Berzatto. 
“Felt weird?” You repeated, calm, your way of soothing him. Keeping your voice even, steady without any tones he could read into and spiral. It was second nature at this point. “Weird how?” 
“It made me feel like… like I was, I was missin’ out.” Carmen admitted, eyes shining bright and a little wide like they always did when he’d finally admit something. Wide eyed, scared, almost, like he shouldn’t have told the truth. 
“I felt like, I’m at work, an-and you were at home with Teddy, and…and I felt like I was bein’ a shitty dad. Like I was there too much, an-and I’d miss out on her, and then I’d miss you, I’d just…” Carmen threw his hands out lightly, cheeks puffing with a slow, shaky exhale. 
“I was jealous, maybe? Ma-Maybe that’s the word, but I just… I didn’t want to be there, and I know,” He lifted his voice before you could begin to speak. “I know I’m th-the boss, and-and I get that. And it’s not- it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault you’re home- I’m glad you’re home, I am, because you’re doin’ so much. You are, an-and I know that, I know. You’re-You’re doin’ the most important job in the fuckin’ world, I mean, you’re keepin’ ou-our baby alive.” 
Carmen laughed humorlessly, a scoff that turned into a sniffle, shaking his head. You sat quietly, listening to his words, taking them in with a slow nod. Carmen looked at you, trying to read you, taking in your expressions. Your shoulders less tense, tired, face neutral but he saw the way your lips twitched, holding back a cry. 
“Just sometimes when-when I’d be in the shit, I’d just want to be home.” Carmen admitted. “I’d want to be home, but… but I knew I couldn’t be. I knew I had to-to take care of things, take care of you an-and Teddy, and I don’t- fuck, I don’t mean it like a bad thing. I like doing it, I mean obviously I fuckin’ do, it’s just- it-it’s a lot sometimes and I get-” 
“-Carm,” You cut off his ramblings, reaching across the table, your hand sliding over the top of his, squeezing it gently. 
Carmen thought his lungs might have given out, his heart too, looking down at your hand in awe. Bolts of electricity shot through his body, tingling at his skin that touched yours with excitement. He’d missed this, missed your touch, missed you. It felt surreal, sitting here, feeling you, seeing you. 
“I’m sorry.” Carmen whispered, turning his hand to hold yours. Hands clammy, fingernails bitten to the quick. His fingers intertwined in yours, holding your hand so tightly your fingers tingles. He held your hand like he was scared to let go, like if he did he might never get to hold your hand again. 
“I’m sorry. It-It wasn’t fair. It..It’s not fair.” Carmen squeezed your hand, shaking his head lightly. “You didn’t… I don’t know how to say how much you mean to me.” Carmen looked at you, eyes glassy, red rimmed with tears that gathered at his water line. 
“I, uh, I-I tried to- Well, Richie’s thera- my therapist told me to, uh, to try an-and write out what I wanted to say to you. Take time and reflect and give it to you, but I, uh, I was up all night because I kept starting over.” Carmen rambled on. 
“Everything I was tryna write it just… it didn’t feel like enough. It didn’t do you justice.” Carmen looked up at you, thumb brushing over your knuckle gently. “I felt like it just wasn’t enough. They’re aren’t any words to describe you. To…To describe what you mean to me, an-and how much I love you.” 
You swallowed back a sob, looking into his eyes. An intensity you hadn’t seen since he said his vows, maybe more now. “I-I love you so much, and… and I don’t deserve you. I don’t fucking deserve you.” Carmen choked out, a sob slipping out between his confessions. 
“I-I’m a fuckin’ loser, an-and a psycho, and I-I’m a shitty dad and husband…And I-I’m fucked up, and you-you chose to love me anyways. An-And to marry me, and have a kid with me- start a family with me. And what do I do? I fuck it up, and I don’t deserve you. I never have, an-and I never will.” Carmen rambled, tears sliding down his cheeks freely, leaning towards you, shoulders stuttering with a choking of tears.
“Don’t say that.” You sniffle, shaking your head. “Don’t say that-” 
“-No, it’s true, it’s fuckin’ true-” 
“-No, it isn’t. Carmen, don’t say that.” You reach your free hand out, cupping his cheek across the table, thumb swiping over his cheek, wiping away a stray tear. You held him, feeling the heat in his cheeks, he turned into your touch, breath slowing. 
“You’re not a loser. You’re not a psycho. You’re not a bad dad, or-or a bad husband either.” You leaned forwards, closing in the gap between the two of you, the edge of the table digging into your stomach. “You made a mistake-” 
“-No, that’s-that’s- it’s worse than that. It’s so much fuckin’ worse than that. Don’t-” 
“-You made a mistake.” You said, firmer this time, cradling his cheek in your hand. 
Carmen took a breath, squeezing your hand in his, sniffing deep to keep his tears in. “I don’t… I don’t want to be like my parents.” He whispered, eyes rounding in a scared way. “I-I don’t want to fuck up you o-or Teddy or… I just don’t wanna end up like them. I wanna be different.” 
“You’re not gonna end up like them.” You shook your head softly. 
“No, I-I was actin’ just like them.” Carmen muttered. “Yellin’ at you a-and actin’ like a complete fuckin’ lunatic. Just like them, an-and I don’t wanna live like that.” 
“You won’t.” You reassured him gently, whispering across the table. He shook his head in protest. “Carm, listen to me. You’re… You’re not like them, ok?” 
You could feel Carmen start to shake, a trembling through his system that was a tell-tale sign of a panic attack. Your eyes scanned over the restaurant, filling up with the mid-afternoon rush. “Come on,” You nodded towards the door, pushing your chair back, hand still in his. “Let’s get some air.” 
Carmen didn’t argue, he wouldn’t- couldn’t even if he wanted to. Your hand in his, squeezing his gently, pulling him towards the car. Carmen pulled the keys out with shaky hands, unlocking the door. He reached for the passenger door, but you pulled the back door open instead, surprising him when you slipped in the backseat, nodding at him to follow you. You squeezed into the middle, Teddy’s car seat pressed to your back, Carmen pressed into your side, shutting the door.
“You’re not like them.” You broke the silence, turning yourself towards him. “You’re not.” 
Carmen leaned his head back against the seat, tears leaking out of his eyes. “You-You don’t have to do this, say that.” He shook his head. “I don’t deserve it.” 
“Carmen, you’re not like your parents.” You reached for his hand again. “The fact that you’re scared to be like them, scared and trying to stop it, that shows me you’re not like them.” 
Carmen’s chest stuttered, a hissing of a cry leaving his lungs. “You made a mistake.” You swallowed, your own heart aching. “But… But that doesn’t mean you’re as a whole a bad person. It just means you made a mistake, and if you learn from it and become better, then it’s ok. It’s a lesson learned.” 
Carmen nodded, eyes squeezing shut, tight like he was trying to keep everything in. “I just…I really fucking miss you.” Carmen admitted through a wobbly voice, eyes still closed. “I-I really miss you, and… and I want you to come home.” 
You shook your head, tears sliding down your cheeks. “I miss you too.” You whispered, squeezing his hand. “I missed you so much.” 
Carmen turned, arms wrapping around your body, pulling you tightly into him. His nose pressed into the top of your head, breathing in detergent that didn’t smell like what you used at home, shampoo, too. You held onto him, fingers digging into his shoulders, pushing him further and further into you until it felt like your bodies were meshing together, fusing into one. 
Whispered apologies shared through teary, wet sniffles filled the space. Carmen’s nose rubbing against yours, hesitating before he kissed you. You pulled him into you, finally soothing the aching longing that had built in your chest, your lips catching his, the two of you staying unmoving, wanting to feel the other. Clinging to each other, hands grabbing, lips parting, Carmen pressing you against the car seat, hand cradled on the back of your head. 
“I-I understand if you still don’t wanna come home.” Carmen muttered, breath hot over your cheek, nose rubbing against your skin. “But I really fuckin’ miss you.” 
“I miss you too.” You muttered, lips buzzing against his neck, tears hot and trickling onto the collar of his t-shirt. “I-I want to come home.” 
“A-Are you sure?” Carmen’s eyes lit up with hope, though he tried to hide it, the way he always did; too scared to let him get too excited, too hopeful because he always feared it would end. 
“Yeah,” You whispered, nodding gently, balling the back of his shirt between your fingers. 
“Yeah?” Carmen repeated, lips pressing together to keep his cry in, a different one this time. One of relief. For the first time in days, he felt like he could breathe, like his lungs weren’t constricting and on the brink of collapse. His mind didn’t race and cloud with delirious confusion. No, here and now, holding you, Carmen had clarity. 
The both of you stayed in the back of the car, holding the other, chest to chest until your heartbeat became the same, steady rhythm, matching the others. 
Carmen held your hand on the drive back, pressing wet kisses to your knuckles, trying to wipe his eyes of any tears. “Can’t let Pete see me cryin’ again.” He muttered. “That was a new fuckin’ low.” You had giggled softly, enough to have his heart fluttering. He’d never admit it out loud, not now, anyways, that he was thankful for Pete. How he’d taken care of you, of Teddy, of Anchovy. He’d stuck up for you, even if it was against Carmen, and that meant the world to Carmen. 
Pulling into Sugar and Pete’s house, Carmen shoved the gear shift into park, his hand still in yours, both of you sitting in each other's company for a minute longer. Just a little bit longer the two of you, before you had to face the others. 
“Oh, uh, one more thing.” Carmen’s thumb ran over your knuckles before he let go of your hand for a moment, raising up in the seat to dig into the front pocket of his jeans. 
“I, uh, I brought your rings back.” Carmen’s voice dropped, a shake in his words that matched the shake in his hands, pinching your wedding band and ring in between his fingers. 
You swallowed at the sight, Carmen holding the ring between his fingers, it took you back to years before when he’d proposed. Nearly as nervous as he was now, just as shaky, but for a different reason. 
“You don’t have to put them on or anything. I don’t- I’m not tryna make you do that, it’s your choice, obviously. I just,” Carmen took a breath, looking at you. “I thought you might want them back.” 
You paused for a moment, looking at the rings, the sting of the last time you saw them still burning and aching in your chest, but this time, it wasn’t as crushing. It was more of a dull ache, a tiredness that came with it instead of devastation. 
Reaching out, your fingertips tickled his palms, gathering the two rings in your hand. You looked at them, turning them over in your hands. “Thank you,” You mumbled, looking up at Carmen. He swallowed, giving a nod, trying to mask the hurt that you hadn’t put them back on- you didn’t miss it. 
“Do-” Your voice caught in your throat. “Will you put them back on?” You blinked at him, wide eyed, asking so sweet, Carmen thought his heart might give out entirely. 
You held the rings out towards him. “Will you put them back on for me? Please?” 
Carmen didn’t deserve you. The notion rang loud over and over in his head again, throat burning, welling up with tears. He didn’t deserve you. You were too good, too fuckin’ good for him. 
His hands trembled, holding yours and slipping the rings back onto your ring finger, back to their rightful place. Carmen twisted them, a deep breath of a sob that was threatening to break filling the space. His fingers intertwined with yours, free hand cupping your jaw, pulling you into a kiss over the console. 
Sugar looked out the window, peeking through the blinds. “What’re they doin’ out there?” Pete whispered behind her, like the two of you might hear them. “Do they look happy? Sad? You don’t think it went bad, do you? I mean, Carmen can be-” 
“-Pete,” Sugar snapped with a soft huff. “Look for yourself.” She moved, biting back a small grin. 
Pete slid in her place, pushing the blinds apart, sneakily looking out the side of them. He could see the two of you in the car, Carmen’s hands on the back of your head, holding you while you leaned across the console in a deep, passionate kiss. 
“Well, lookie there.” Pete grinned, letting the blinds fall. “I guess there was a happy ending after all.” 
Sugar rolled her eyes, lips twitching in a small smile. “He still has a lot to make up for. I hope she didn’t let him off the hook too easily.” She grumbled, crossing her arms. “But I am glad they made up. I would kill Carmen if he fucked things up with my favorite sister-in-law.” 
Pete let out a small laugh, looking out the window again. “The kids are gonna miss Teddy and Anchovy when they go back. MJ’s gonna be devastated they’re taking them.” Pete muttered, Sugar nodded. 
Pete paused for a moment, looking behind him with a soft frown. “Y’know, this is gonna sound crazy, Nat, but I’ll be kinda glad when Anchovy is gone.” Pete admitted in a hushed tone, like Anchovy might hear him. 
Sugar snorted lightly. “Yeah. Except MJ and Maggie will be begging for a cat of their own. They’ve already started and I told them-” 
“-No, I mean,” Pete turned, watching the orange cat slink around at the top of the stairs, Anchovy glaring down at Pete before disappearing to the guest room. “I don’t think that cat likes me.”
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trialsofthedas · 2 months ago
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SPOILERS FOR VEILGUARD —>
For those of you who have played and/or watched the scene that takes place after the dragon attack if you are a crow!rook who chose to save minrathous, you know this little line Viago throws at you?
“Because you always think of something. You always do. Except this time.”
Once again, I’m asking you guys to think about Lucanis having to tell Viago that rook is missing post-tearstone island. Because they don’t know where Rook is. They don’t even know if Rook is alive. All they know is they killed one of the gods, they did it, but the smoke cleared and solas is free but Rook is gone. and it’s WEEKS according to that Bellara romance scene.
Viago refuses to believe Rook is gone. Not Rook. Not the stubborn little idiot who had more lives than the feral street cats of treviso they so loved to pet. Not the little crow who spent years following Viago around with one hand always fisted in his cape until it was beat out of them to not show that kind of weakness. Not the little scrap of a being that succeeded for always being quick, but fell for their mouth that ran that much quicker. Not Rook, who he sent away to learn patience, to get them out of the hot seat and away from the other houses who wanted their head. Rook, who fought and won against gods and dragons and the blight. Not a crow who always completes their contract. Not Rook who was supposed to come home.
Not Rook. So Viago refuses to believe it. The first few days he clings so hard to the mantra. “Rook always thinks of something.” And they will come back and laugh and laugh and laugh at how worried Viago was and Viago will sigh and ring their neck and slip poison into their food to make sure they’ve been keeping up with their daily antivenoms— and Rook will be there.
But those days turn into a week, and then into two, and Viago hasn’t received any update from this so called ‘veilguard’ and all of the sudden “Rook always thinks of something.” is crumbling because what if this is the exception? this is the “except this time.” Because it is always until it’s not. and there is no time to truly mourn is there? there is still one god left to slay and very little time left to do it.
And Viago will fight. The loss of his… the loss to House de Riva is felt, but Viago is a professional. His wings are not clipped. ( his feathers are broken, hard shafts digging in and pulling blood from oozing cuts. they need clipped, groomed, removed. but his wings still work. they just hurt. ) He will finish this contract, in their name if nothing else.
But Viago let himself forget. “Rook always thinks of something.” And he let himself doubt and underestimate when he swore he would never be caught by those things again. but maybe this once, it’s okay. it’s okay because Rook stands in front of him, alive. Broken, but alive.
because a Crow always completes their contract, and a Rook will always come home to bother Viago.
Until they don’t
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pastabaguette · 4 months ago
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sorry for all the posts today, but this one is very important: alternian video game edits.
i actually have reasonings for all of their blood types, and a few classpects, so i'll dive into them here:
monika: i'm thinking that early in the game, during acts 1 and 2, she maybe masqueraded as a jadeblood or higher. only during act 3 does she reveal herself as a fuchsia to the protagonist.
gordon and alyx: gordon is probably a tealblood, or somewhere around there. fairly high, but not too high, i think. alyx is an olive, and eli is an indigo. azian was probably a gold. (or lime?) i did have to keep gordon’s orange HEV suit, though. surely you understand. okay, troll half life lore: i think on alternia, all the main characters in the half life franchise are like, olive or above. the rebels in follow freeman and the guards are all lowbloods, so that the player doesn't feel too bad about sacrificing them, or something like that. i think this would be something that would happen in an alternian video game, at least.
agent 47: 47 is actually a mutant, due to being manufactured in a lab. he's a weird ice-blue color. he's still got that piercing stare. i felt a little sad changing his iconic red tie, but i do have some thoughts on that as well. obviously, red in human culture tends to symbolize passion, among other things, and in this case, violence and aggression, because it's the color of blood. however, because trolls all have different blood colors, i think they might have different meanings attached to colors than humans typically do. i think that typically, the colors that would most commonly represent aggression in alternian culture would be blue (cobalt and indigo) and purple. now, i know that the sea dwellers exist, but since the vast majority of trolls are lowbloods, they would have a lot more contact with the land-dwelling highbloods, rather than the fish. so, 47’s tie is blue. (i also just think it looks cool matching his eyes)
chell: I made chell a bronzeblood. she’s a test subject, but not one of the special ones (astronauts, olympians, etc). she’s just another lab rat. (also, a lot of her outfit is orange…)
now for classpects! i only have two i’m sure of as of now:
gordon freeman is an heir of hope. this one is fairly obvious to me. a common belief is that heirs have the ability to become their aspect, in a way. in half life 2, gordon quickly becomes the main symbol of the resistance on earth. for the rebels, he himself IS hope.
agent 47 is a prince of life. again, it’s a common interpretation that princes are themselves void of their aspect, and they destroy that aspect in others. this is really literal, obviously, but as a hitman, 47 kills people. literally destroying life. as for his own lack of life in himself, it’s pretty simple as well. 47 is almost always described as entirely void of emotion and empathy. others often remark on his soulless stare, a lack of life behind his eyes. so, as a prince, he fulfills both criteria there.
holy hell, that was a lot of words. i didn’t intend to talk this much. feel free to add your own thoughts; i’d like to hear what others think. these descriptions were a bit rushed, and i don’t really consider myself to be very good at communicating my thoughts, so a lot of things may have been lost in translation. i’d be happy to try and elaborate on my reasonings for any of them.
(oh, also, please no alyx spoilers. i haven’t played it yet!)
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gemstone-roses · 9 months ago
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Please
Cooper Howard x fem reader
Summary: smut, pet names, praise kink, unprotected sex, choking , I know, I know, radiation poisoning? Hush, this is FICTION. Your on my blog and you’re surprised at this? No you’re not. minors be gone from here thankyou. 18+ only. It’s basically just smut. Mentions of a minor shoulder injury. No plot just smut. No spoilers.
Note: Not much background, I started this before I had surgery and wanted to get it posted, I watched most of this show whilst recovering from surgery and, off my tits on pain meds. I’m gonna preface this with it’s definitely not my best work, but when I feel bad I write, so please be kind as always 🥹Anyway. Enjoy. 🫡. Likes comments and reblogs much appreciated. I am not responsible for your media consumption.
I am in Spain without the s.
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You’re not friends. You tolerate each other. That’s it. He pushes your buttons and you irritate him just by being in his presence. Anyone looking from the outside would think the two of you were sworn enemies, that’s not right though. He always comes back for you. He insisted on doing this bounty alone, you insisted on going with him.
Now your clutching your shoulder trying to pretend your not in pain and he is seething.
you lean against the rotted wood in the decaying structure you’ve holed up in for the night. It crumbles behind you and you huff.
“I told you to stay behind on this one” he thumbs the rim of his hat, sighing as he takes in the state of you.
“yeah well, I’m fine”. You whisper, not wanting to look at him.
“Y’ not fine! Look at ya” he steps in front of you, encasing you.
“I’m okay, it’s just a little bruise” you say defiantly, looking to meet his gaze.
“ya coulda’ died sweetheart” his voice cracks slightly as he speaks, scarred hands hovering over the thin material of your t shirt, he presses his hand gently into your shoulder, rubbing his thumb across the skin.
Your breath hitches at the contact.
“don’t feel dislocated” he mutters, his fingers still gently probing your shoulder.
“Mm, told you I was fine” you say. His head snaps to yours, his hand gripping your jaw, he tilts his head down slightly, snarling.
“You ain’t half got a mouth on you sweetheart” he tuts, thumb swiping over your cracked lips.
His eyes meet yours again and you can see the internal debate he’s having in his head.
“There’s plenty more I can do with my mouth” you whisper. And that’s it, that does it for him, he brings your face closer to his and kisses you. His other arm pulls you into him, his erection pressing against you making your core throb. He’s got an iron grip on your jaw but the kiss is gentle, slow, testing. You open your mouth, inviting him to go further, his hand around your waist traces the curve of your ass as he kisses you, you moan into his mouth and he grips onto you tighter.
“Please” you breathe , your body flooding with need at his teasing touches.
“What honey?” He smirks, breaking the kiss as his hand travels up your waist. he slips his hand under your shirt, caressing your bare side slowly.
“Touch me” you choke out, failing to keep the desperation from your voice.
“Oh, I am touching you honey” his voice tinged with amusement. He waits, keeps caressing your side, never venturing further, he keeps your gaze, watching as his every movement has you silently pleading for more. Your lips parted slightly, chest heaving. He smirks, he can play the long game if needed, he wants to see how long you’ll wait before begging.
“Just this lil touch is driving you crazy huh” he mutters, splaying his hand across your stomach, hovering just above where you needed him most. You grit your teeth, raising your brows, and he tilts his head, a lazy smile across his face.
“You need me to touch you here?” His fingers press delicately over your underwear.
You nod, and whimper.
“I can’t hear you” he drawls, tapping his fingers lightly over your core, over the wet patch that’s formed.
you lean into him, head resting on his shoulder. “Yes, fuck, please” you beg, and he your underwear to the side and presses a finger into you. He curls it instantly, making your legs buckle slightly. His free arm wraps around you tight, pulling you into him as he pushes his finger in and out of you.
“Mm, you’re very wet honey, this all for me?” he teases , pushing another finger into you, and your pussy throbs at his words. He smiles, speeding up his movements while whispering praise into your ear. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, your orgasm building.
“Shit- m gonna” - you pant, and he stops. You whine at the emptiness, frown at him before he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.
“Mm” he groans. “As much as I’d love for you to come all over my fingers, I’d rather you came wrapped around my cock sweetheart”. You clench your legs together hoping for some relief.
“Lie down for me honey”. He instructs. You do, the wood beneath you creaks slightly, he takes off his jacket and tucks it behind your head. He hooks his fingers in the waist of your pants before pulling them down, slowly, he’s savouring this.
When he’s removed them he stands back, admires you.
“Well shit, your stunnin’” he sighs as he undoes his belt. You try and roll over to cover up, shy all of a sudden. “No no honey none of that” he tuts. Reaching for your neck he wraps his hand around it and squeezes slightly. He studies your face as your eyes blow wide, and he smirks. He removes his hand far too quickly for your liking though.
You watch, enthralled as he takes out his thick cock before kneeling in-between your legs. He taps the tip of his cock on your puffy clit a few times, making you jolt.
He chuckles. “Sorry honey, I like seeing ya writhe for me”. He leans in, steadying himself with one arm on the floor beside your head. The other wraps around his cock as he lines up with your hole. You tense as he begins pushing his cock into you.
“Deep breath sweetheart” he soothes, you relax slightly as you do and he buries his cock all the way inside you.
“Oh fuck” you choke, he’s not even moved yet and already pleasure is coursing through every inch of you.
He groans as he starts thrusting. His hand coming to cup your face, he runs a calloused thumb across your jaw as he watches your face contort with pleasure.
“That feel good sweetheart?” He pants, leaning in to nip at your ear. You respond with a moan, unable to form a proper word.
“Cooper” you whine, wrapping your arms around him, the rough of his skin adding to the pleasure he was making you feel. His cock twitches at the use of his name.
“Your squeezing my cock so damn good” he breathes, angling his hips so he hits deeper.
“mm fuck that - there- , don’t stop” you cry, the coil in your stomach building.
“Yeah? You gonna come honey?” He taunts, his mouth twitching, pleased.
“look at me” he growls, he holds your face as he stares into you, his eyes blown wide with lust as he thrusts his cock in and out of your dripping pussy.
“Keep, your eyes, on me” each word punctuated with a thrust of his hips. Your eyes roll back as tears prick the corner of your eyes, you cry out in pleasure as your orgasm starts to wash over you.
He leans into you again, his hot breath making you shiver as he whispers into your ear.
“Scream for me” he snarls, his hand snaking around your throat as he pushes into you harder, and squeezes the side of your throat just right as your pussy tightens around him, he chokes out a moan and spills inside you as you convulse around him.
You stay like that for what feels like hours. Him still inside you, his head lay on your chest as your fingers dance up and down his back comfortable silence broken every now and then of him whispering sweet words to you.
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the-bitter-ocean · 3 months ago
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( ISAT OPTIONAL ACHIEVEMENT SPOILERS) I finally get to post the writing I made for @sharkylass Isa looping au “In Repetition and Change” which is very cool and everyone should check it out! I wanted to try and make my own take on what the interactions for a memory of puns achievement would look like ^_^. Writing is under the cut:
[ You’re back here again. ]
[ Sif should be arriving right around…]
<| “Isa!!!”|>
[ …Now.]
[ Sif comes along to greet you at the start of every loop. ]
[ He makes a pun about the favor tree and the two of you banter- making each other laugh. ]
[ Every time afterwards, you think of reaching out to him… but you usually tend to chicken out before doing anything. ]
[ It’s cowardly behavior sure, but you’d rather play it safe than ruin anything.]
[ It’s a routine that has never deviated, at least not in any way that was notable to you. ]
<| “..Isa? Are you okay?”|>
[…?]
[ “Oh uh..sorry Sif! Didn’t mean to zone out like that!”]
[ Okay genius, think of something!! He’s getting worried about you!!]
[“..I was just lost in thought thinking about the Favor Tree! Isn’t it cool?”]
[ You make sure to smile. You hope that’s enough.]
<| Sif smiles back at you. |>
<| “..Yeah it is..!”|>
[ Siffrin has the look that they’d only make right before making a pun.]
<| “One could say it's a pretty..."|>
[ You get ready for it.]
[“Uh-huh?”]
<|"...TREE-mendous tree."|>
[ You do your best to laugh convincingly and focus on the information you’ve heard dozens of times before. ]
[“Right right, sleepover at the clock tower. Sounds like a ton of fun!”]
[ It’s not like you’d go anywhere else. ]
=> [ Do you need anything from me?]
=> [ Stop talking. ]
=> [ Stop talking. ]
[ You don’t really feel like talking anymore and you can’t think of anything new to say. ]
[ Sif looks at you and frowns a little. ]
<| “…?”|>
<| “..Alright that’s it..my turn!”|>
[…]
<| “…okay a good joke.. what’s a good joke to make-“|>
[ Did he not realize that you could hear them muttering? ]
[ You’ve done this a couple of times already but you find yourself still repeating your usual lines. ]
[ “..Huh? What for?”]
[ You tilt your head and do your best to act confused and unassuming. ]
[ It’s what you’re best at. ]
[ You already know the answer as to why Sif is doing all of this for you. ]
[ They told you a few loops ago.]
[ Sif did all of this to make you happy.. because the two of you are friends. ]
[ It’s awfully sweet of them isn’t it? ]
[ You really don’t deserve that kindness at all… but you keep those thoughts to yourself because you’re smart. ]
[ Besides it’s nice to hear it again even if you’ve heard it all before. ]
[It’s reassuring to hear someone say they care about you. ]
[ So you will sit here and listen through the same batch of jokes, like you always have. ]
<| “…!!!! Oh- well because you seemed sad. So I wanted to make you laugh! It might help you feel better.”|>
<|…?|>
[Sif looks around and their gaze focuses on the Clocktower in the distance. ]
<| “Ooh, I know! Why did the clock get kicked out of the library?”|>
[“.. I don’t know, why?”]
<| “Because It tocked too much!”|>
[…]
<| “..Oh so you must’ve heard that one already then huh?”|>
[…?!]
[ You forgot to laugh. ]
[ Sif waves his hands and laughs awkwardly. ]
<| “.. It’s okay! I have way more puns at my disposal, so I’ll just find a new one.”|>
[ While Sif is thinking of a new joke to make, you remind yourself to actually respond this time. ]
<| “How do clocks greet each other?”|>
<| “They say h-“|>
[“Hour you doing?”]
<|…!|>
[ Sif falters at your response for a second before recovering. ]
[He laughs awkwardly. ]
<| “..You knew that one too.. I must’ve told you earlier and forgot.. haha..”|>
<| “…Stars, I’m really off my game today arent I?”|>
[ When has acting like a know it all ever helped you? Why did you say that? ]
[ He clearly just wants to help you and all you ended up doing is making him upset instead! ]
[ No, you need to calm down. You can still salvage this. ]
[ Let’s try this again. ]
[ “Oh crab- I didn’t mean to take your joke, Sif!”]
[“If you have any more you’d like to share then I’d be happy to hear it, okay?”]
<| “..! Oh okay? If you say so, Isa.”|>
[ Siffrin nods and scrunches up their face. ]
[ It’s clear they’re trying extremely hard to think of a pun you haven’t already heard from them yet. ]
[ Siffrin mumbled to themselves again. This time it’s barely audible. ]
<| “..Please be funny please be funny please be funny...”|>
[…?]
<| “..! Okay I think I got it..”|>
<| “A fashion designer made a belt with clocks printed on it for a time traveller…”|>
[…? Oh, that’s a new one! ]
[ Sif noticed your brief look of surprise and smiles. ]
<| “Do you know what they called it, Isa?”|>
[ You shake your head no in response to the question and let Siffrin answer. ]
[“No, I don’t. What did they call it, Sif?”]
<| “A waist of time!”|>
[…?!]
[ Heh.]
[Ha..AHAHHAHAHAHAHA]
[ You laugh and laugh and laugh. You can’t seem to stop. ]
<| “Yes! I knew I still got it-“|>
[ The joke wasn’t even that funny but you feel tears start to prick at your eyes ]
<| “..?! Isa??”|>
[ Can’t you see that the joke is over now? ]
[ He’s going to think you’re being weird!!!]
[ You struggle at it, but you somehow manage to force yourself to take a deep breath in and out. ]
[ You smile and give a shaky thumbs up to Sif. ]
[ He hesitantly smiles at you back.]
[ “..Thank you Sif, I really needed that.”]
<| “..? Are you..”|>
[ Sif looked like they wanted to say something else but stopped himself. ]
<| “..Nevermind. I’m glad I could help cheer you up for a bit, Isa.”|>
<| “I’m going to go to the clocktower now!”|>
<| “Let me know if you need anything from me, okay?”|>
[ Siffrin waves goodbye and runs off. You watch him go.]
[[ You got a MEMORY OF PUNS. ]]
[ You will always remember this.]
[[ When Memory of Puns is equipped, your Dramaturgist will have a higher chance of landing a critical hit on an enemy.]]
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callsign-rogueone · 1 year ago
Text
what was I made for? - g.t.
Garrick Tavis x Marked!Pacifist!Reader (continuation of keep her safe) The aftermath of War Games has you questioning your purpose, and what your signet truly is. wc: 4.4k 🏷: FOURTH WING AND IRON FLAME SPOILERS (I have 50 pages left, but I just can’t do it. send help.) canon-level violence, injury, canon character death, self doubt, anxiety. oops, I made Dain tolerable again. angst, then happy, then more angst. I also skipped over a smut scene / just made a reference to it happening, so if anyone wants that as a separate post, lmk and I can make it happen 👀 thank you to everyone who liked/reblogged/commented on part 1! it means a lot to me 🫶
Riorson House is more your home than Basgiath ever has been, but it’s become foreign to you in the three years you’d spent at the college. It feels like you’re hallucinating as you wander the halls.
Maybe everything that’s happened in the last few days has been a hallucination -- it wouldn't be the first time Varrish or Carr had pushed you to delirium with the amount of pain you’d taken for others.
Maybe it’s a dream. That’s it. A really bad dream. Any moment now, you’re going to wake up in Garrick’s bed and get ready for morning formation, and you’ll forget the sight of Liam dying by breakfast, when you’re sitting across from him at the table like you always do. Violet’s screams of pain will stop playing in your ears, replaced by her laughter at one of Ridoc’s jokes.
But no matter how much you pinch at your skin, you aren’t waking up. This is reality.
“I hear you’re a mender, too,” someone says in a gentle voice, bringing you out of your daze. Violet’s brother, Brennan.
“Does it ever get easier?” You ask quietly. “Does it always hurt this much?”
“Mending becomes easier. Seeing that kind of stuff every day doesn’t,” he replies, and the exhausted look on his face tells you he’s being honest. “But it shouldn’t hurt. Tell me more about that.”
“The second person I mended was a scribe who’d fallen from a ladder in the library and broken her leg. I did everything right, the bone set properly, but my leg hurt for a week, right where she’d broken hers.”
Brennan is silent, letting you continue.
“They broke Garrick’s arm in RSC. I was able to fix it for him, and I took the pain, but they broke it again two hours later. I mended him and Xaden over and over until I collapsed. I didn’t wake for two days. They both still think it was just exhausting for me. They don’t know about the pain.”
The tears are coming openly now, dripping down your cheeks, and you bring a hand up to wipe them away with the sleeve of your flight jacket. “But it isn’t all bad. I couldn’t save Liam, but I was able to make him more comfortable in the end. I took his pain away, and let him go in peace.”
You don’t tell him what death feels like. No description you could give could adequately prepare anyone for the cold sensation that still lingers in your chest. It will likely remain there for the next few days.
“Hey,” he says softly, “We’ll figure this out, I promise. For now, just try to get some rest.” 
You nod quietly, looking back up at him. “Can someone please tell Garrick that I’m okay?” You ask in a small voice, folding your hands in your lap. You’d been heartbroken to realize that the rest of the squad had left for Basgiath before you woke, leaving you here alone.
You didn’t get to say goodbye to any of them, and you don’t know when you’ll see them again. Or if you’ll see them, you think, but you push the thought away quickly. They’ll survive. They have to.
Brennan cracks a smile - everyone in the rebel cause is aware of how deeply Garrick loves you. “Of course.”
———————————————————————
“Cadet Mairi died alongside his dragon, who was attacked by a drift of Gryphon riders. Cadet Avan attempted to mend them, and died trying,” Xaden says levelly, staring down the group of professors on the dais. “They both died honorable, but preventable deaths.”
Garrick knows Xaden is lying, knows you aren’t dead — or you hadn’t been when they left for Basgiath, at least, but his friend’s words have him on edge. Have you woken up yet? 
Chradh speaks into his mind, sending a wave of hot rage through him. “Relax.”
“Relax?” He echoes, irate. “You’re telling me to relax right now, when-”
Chradh doesn’t bother to argue with him. “She is safe under the care of the silver one’s brother, where she will remain until the moment is right. It is better this way. She won’t be in pain anymore.”
Chradh doesn’t elaborate further. Fucking dragons and their constant need to speak in riddles.
The rest of the quadrant spends the night drinking and congratulating themselves on surviving, but Garrick doesn’t touch a drop of alcohol. The three of you were supposed to do this together. It wouldn’t be right to celebrate without you.
———————————————————————
“We’re gonna start from square one, with something that can’t hurt you,” Brennan says, placing two halves of a cracked plate on the table in front of you.
It’s simple enough to make the pieces rise into the air, using the same magic required to make a pen write for you. You concentrate, willing the halves to fuse together. They touch, and you think you’ve done it, your heart leaping, only to fall as they crash back down to the table again, splitting into even more pieces.
Brennan touches one of the shards, and they glue themselves back together perfectly; no cracks, no trace of the plate ever having been broken. “That’s what I thought.”
“Let me keep trying,” you begin, heart pounding. Brennan can’t think you’re a failure, not this early.
“You could sit here with this plate all day and it wouldn’t change,” he says gently, confirming what you know deep down. “I don’t think you’re a mender. I think you’re something else entirely.”
You sit with the information for a moment.
“Signets take the form of our base need as a person,” he says. “We need to find out what that is for you.”
You already know. “I wake up every day grateful that Xaden bargained for our lives, but I have done too much harm in my time at Basgiath. The crown has done too much harm to Tyrrendor. All I’ve ever wished for is to fix that, to undo the pain.”
“To undo the pain, or to help move forward and grow?” He asks gently.
You aren’t sure.
———————————————————————
You go through your morning stretches, as always, focusing on your breath to distract from the pain in your side. 
“Your mate has returned.” Tab says, interrupting. “Thought you’d like to know.”
You bolt upright, running through the house toward the gates, bypassing Xaden to sprint straight toward Garrick.
He wraps you in a warm embrace, resting his chin on the top of your head. You still fit together like puzzle pieces, even after months apart.
“You’re alive,” you breathe. “Nobody would tell me anything, I was worried sick,”
“Of course I’m alive, angel. Had to come back to you.”
You trace the Lieutenant’s patch across his collarbone, memorizing the shape. It looks natural on him, like it’s always been there. It sounds good, too. Lieutenant Garrick Tavis.
“I need to tell you something,” you say quietly, “I haven’t been entirely honest with you about-“
Footsteps approach. “Sorry to break up the reunion,” Felix says, “but Avan, we need you.”
There’s something in his tone that has your heart pounding. Which of your friends is it going to be this time?
“Tell me later,” Garrick says. “Go. Do what you were made to do.”
You know he means well, but his words tie your stomach in a knot. What you were made to do. Were you truly made to endure the suffering of others?
———————————————————————
Every muscle in your body feels like it’s on fire as you slump into a chair, sitting down for the first time that day. If you’re lucky, you’ll be able to get some sleep before you’re needed again.
“There you are. I didn’t see you in battle brief.” Garrick says, relieved.
“Haven’t been going,” you mumble. “They need me here. Bren’s teaching now, so s’ just me and one other mender.”
He realizes no healers had come with the riot from Basgiath. You likely haven’t left the infirmary since they’d arrived.
“Come to bed,” he coaxes softly. “You need sleep. You can't pour from an empty cup.”
Yes, you can. You have been for months.
He takes your hand, not giving you a choice. You lean into him as he leads you up the grand staircase to a room near Xaden’s. Your muscles protest every step, but you keep quiet.
You haven’t been in here for years, not since you’d left for Basgiath as candidates, but it’s exactly the same as you remember; dark drapery, bookshelves, a neat display of the knives that he hadn’t taken to school with him.
The sight has you in tears.
“Whoa, hey,” he says softly, pulling you closer, and you whimper in pain at the pressure against your ribs. He lets go immediately. “Angel, I’m sorry — are you hurt?”
You sob, the dam finally breaking and grief flooding out of you. You haven’t seen each other since that horrible day, you haven’t seen anyone from the squad you went with to Resson, haven’t had anyone to talk about it with, until now. 
You shake your head, tears dripping down your cheeks. “I couldn’t save Liam. I tried, I really did. All I could do was take his pain away.”
So Xaden had told Basgiath the truth, to some degree: you tried to fix Liam, and couldn’t. The boy’s death had hurt you badly enough that Xaden wouldn’t let you return to the school.
“There was nothing else you could do. Nobody could save him, not after Deigh…”
“I know that, but it wasn’t just him. Everyone I’ve ever… fixed, I’ve taken the pain from their body into mine, and I can’t get rid of it for days.”
Garrick’s heart breaks. So that’s what Chradh meant when he said you wouldn’t be in pain anymore if you left Basgiath. Those eight-hour days of mending infantry may as well have been torture for you. 
Torture. RSC. You’d healed his wounds, Xaden’s, Bodhi’s, Violet’s, time and time again without complaint, and he knew it took a lot out of you, but not that it hurt. “Angel, why didn’t you tell me? If I’d known…”
“I wanted to,” you sniffle, “I wanted to tell you a year ago when it started happening. I thought it was normal, that I was just weak, until Brennan told me that this doesn’t happen to him. He just gets tired, like everyone else does when they use their signets too much.”
You try to steady your breathing, but the pain in your not-broken ribs is too overwhelming. “I’ve spent hours practicing and I can’t even fix a broken plate. I’m not a mender. I don’t know what I am. Nobody does, not even the professors. Brennan thinks it’s getting better, but I don’t have it in me to tell him that it isn’t.”
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. He wants to pull you into an embrace, wants to stroke your hair and tell you it’ll be okay, but he doesn’t want to hurt you any more than he already has.
“S’ not your fault.” You sniff.
“But it’s not yours, either,” he reminds you gently. “You’re so strong, angel. You crossed the parapet, ran the gauntlet, you bonded a dragon, and you’ve endured everything else. Please don’t ever think for a second that you’re weak.”
He takes your hand in his, watching your face carefully, but you don’t wince at the touch. “We’ll talk to Brennan tomorrow, together. For now, I just want you to get some sleep, okay?”
You nod silently, having run out of tears.
“Attagirl.”
As you settle into bed next to him, freshly showered and wearing one of his warm sweaters, you swear the pain has dimmed.
———————————————————————
When Garrick takes you to see Brennan the next morning, he isn’t alone. Your professors are seated beside him, along with some of the Tyrrish elders.
Devera speaks first. “We owe you an apology, Cadet Avan. The faculty was unaware that Carr and Varrish were using your signet as a method of punishment, or that it pains you to use it.”
“And I owe you an apology,” you say quietly. “I should have come back after the War Games.”
“That was my decision,” Xaden says firmly, “and I stand by it. She was in no condition to return to the school, much less to graduate and be stationed at an outpost across the continent from her support system, while still feeling the coldness of Cadet Mairi’s death.”
How does he know that you could feel it? Had you told him in your delirium? Had Brennan told him? Had you even told Brennan? 
“Your friends have effectively plead your case, and we agree that you have satisfied all the requirements for graduation from the Rider’s Quadrant.” Emeterrio says. “Congratulations, Lieutenant.”
Garrick slips your flight jacket onto your shoulders, and you notice the Lieutenant insignia has already been sewn on, to match his. When did he…? 
You accept the handshake Devera offers you, still a little dazed, but there’s one more order of business to address.
“May I rejoin my old squad?” You ask the table of professors quietly. “They are family to me. I would like to ride with them again, and aid them however I can.”
They exchange hesitant looks, and your heart sinks. Do they not think you’re good enough?
“I don’t see why not,” Brennan says firmly enough for everyone else to agree — he outranks the professors with the years he’s been part of the movement.
You exhale in relief.
Garrick cheers. “The dream team is back, baby!” He pulls you into a gentle embrace, knowing you’re still in pain, but wanting to hold you close.
You laugh, not minding the ache in your ribs.
Xaden is unimpressed. “When have we ever once called ourselves the dream team?”
“We haven’t, but I’m starting now. It’ll stick. I’ll have it embroidered on your flight jacket, Xay.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Xaden replies, setting off a brotherly argument behind you.
You look to the leadership once more, bowing your head in respect. “Thank you. For everything.”
Devera gives you a warm smile. “I am glad to see you have found your place here, Lieutenant. Remember that your empathy is a gift, even in times of war.”
Empathy.
“Am I dismissed?” You ask.
“Yes, Lieutenants, you are all dismissed,” Emeterrio answers dryly, looking over your shoulder at Garrick and Xaden. The latter has the former in a playful headlock, messing up his hair. 
“Human boys,” Tab says, exasperated. You laugh in agreement, leaving them in the Assembly room to sort themselves out.
It’s easy enough to find who you’re looking for — he’s the only person sitting completely alone in the mess, a textbook open in front of him that he isn’t reading. He’s gazing into the distance, eyes unfocused, but he looks up when he realizes you’re standing in front of him.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “about what I saw in Varrish’s office. I had no idea how much you all have endured. What we are taught in Navarre is only one side of the story, but you showed me the other.”
“I’m glad I could help change your mind.”
He reaches into the pocket of his flight jacket and extends a hand. Your protection rune sits in his palm, complete with a new leather cord. “A peace offering. I stole it back from Varrish, and Brennan mended it.”
You smile, taking it from him and slipping it back over your head. “You’re turning into quite the rule-breaker, Aetos. But thank you. It means a lot to me.”
You’re about to leave, but something compels you to impart a piece of advice. “I know how it feels when people don’t want to trust you because of your family history. It’ll take a while for some of them to warm up to you, but you can make it go a lot faster if you keep yourself out of trouble.”
———————————————————————
Your first flight back with your squad is supposed to be easy, a surveying flight with a small riot, just to check their perimeters, but you can’t seem to quell your anxiety as you take off.
“We will be fine, gentle one. We’re in strong company,” Tab reassures. He stays close to Chradh, knowing Garrick’s proximity will calm you. “How does it feel to be back?”
“Good. I’ve missed this.”
“You have always enjoyed being up this high,” he agrees. “Shall we review some of our basic maneuvers?”
“Sure.”  Maybe that will settle your nerves.
“Hold on.” Tab dips, practicing all the angles — banking right, left, up, down.
“Something is wrong,” you blurt, and Tab straightens his path immediately, falling back into the formation. Every nerve in your body pulses with a sensation you’ve never felt before, standing on end. “Something really bad is going to happen.”
You’re right.
“Wyvern,” Tab warns just as they come into your line of sight. They charge straight at the front of the riot, where Sgaeyl leads the pack. 
You’re outmatched, nearly two dozen of them and only ten of you. You’re going to die here. At least you’ll be with your best friends.
“That kind of thinking isn’t helpful!” Tab scolds, tightening the formation. 
One gets too close for comfort, spewing blue flame, and Chradh banks hard - too hard. You gasp in horror as Garrick is thrown from his seat down to the ground below.
“Dive!” You yell, and Tab follows without hesitation, making a near-vertical drop.
You’ve never been so grateful for the running landing they’d taught you last year. It had been excruciating to execute on top of the pain of unbroken bones, but it’s just manageable now after a few days off from the infirmary.
Clutching Failsafe for dear life, your only defense, you sprint toward Garrick’s limp body, ripping off your goggles.
His heart still beats, but multiple bones look broken, his breathing labored. Touching him is almost unbearable, which tells you he won’t last much longer if you don’t do something.
Deep breaths, like Brennan had taught you, to accept their pain as it entered your body, holding it before batting it away like a fly.
You still haven’t figured out how to make that work.
Hot tears roll down your cheeks, and you start to berate yourself; Why can’t you do this? Compose yourself. Garrick is going to die if you can’t pull it together. Garrick is going to die, just like Liam did, because you aren’t strong enough to fix a fucking plate.
Anger overcomes you for the first time since you’d watched your parents die six years ago. You scream, a sound like nothing you’ve ever heard before splitting the air. The pain dissipates almost instantly. For the first time in two years, your body isn’t aching, and you sob in relief.
Garrick bolts upright, gasping for breath as spring blooms across the snowy plain, trees with bare branches suddenly teeming with green leaves.
Tab roars in pride and the rest of the riot joins in, the cliffs shaking from the volume of their celebration. 
“Lifebringer!” He thunders into your mind. 
Your head snaps upward, and you realize that the ground is littered with motionless wyvern.
Garrick pulls you to your feet, brushing the tears from your cheeks. “Come on, angel,” he says, grinning, “we have a war to win.”
You’re still dazed as Tab brings you back to Riorson house, Garrick helping you dismount and leading you inside.
“We have a weapon,” Xaden says, actually smiling as he faces the assembly. “Something, someone, that can destroy wyvern in their tracks.”
Garrick keeps you glued to his side as Xaden tells the elders what happened, but it’s all in one ear, out the other.
You’re dismissed after a few minutes, heading back out to the mess, where your friends gather around one of the large tables in the library.
“Tab called me lifebringer,” you say, confused. “What is that?”
“I thought it was just folklore,” Violet says from a few rows down, scanning the shelves, and everyone turns to her, listening. “Lifebringers are said to influence healing and growth. In some cultures, they’ve been credited with ending famines by rejuvenating harvests, and saving the innocent from the grasp of Malek and his Death.”
“Wicked,” Ridoc appraises quietly.
“Aha.” Violet produces a thin volume, cracking it open to the right page. The illustration there looks uncannily like you.
“Only the purest of heart can be lifebringers, those who hold no malice toward their fellow man. The weapons they carry are sharp, but unused,” she reads aloud. “Garrick gave you Failsafe as just that — a failsafe. You never drew blood with it. You never hurt anyone except in challenges, when it was kill or be killed, and even then you held back.”
Bodhi speaks next. “With most signets, the stronger the wielder’s emotion, the more powerful the ability becomes. You feel empathy for the wounded, so you can fix them and ease their pain, but when you thought Garrick was going to die, that was another level of distress, and I guess it was enough to overcome the dark magic.” 
Garrick squeezes your shoulder in reassurance that he’s still very much alive beside you.
Violet closes the book, setting it down.
“I’m not in pain anymore,” you whisper, still dazed. You’ve almost forgotten what that feels like, having spent the last three years holding both your own and that of all your friends.
“You needed an outlet,” Xaden says. “Pain makes it harder to channel, and you were in pain 24/7, which is why the professors thought your signet was underdeveloped. Getting angry, and getting that energy out of your body allowed you to use the full extent of your power.”
“If I had known this earlier, do you think I could have…” you don’t finish the sentence. Everyone in this room knows how hard you’d tried to save Liam.
“Maybe,” Violet says quietly, “but that is not a path you want to go down. Trust me.”
———————————————————————
“Do you want to explain why the hallway was full of sunflowers when I went to bed last night?” Xaden asks slyly, dropping into a seat in front of you with a plate of eggs and bacon.
You burn with embarrassment.
Bodhi grins. “You see, cousin, when a man and a woman love each other very much, - ow, fuck!” He exclaims, rubbing the back of his head where Garrick had whacked him.
“At least they didn’t set the vale on fire,” another of your squadmates says, looking at Xaden and Violet pointedly. “You still owe me for putting that out, by the way.”
Your eyes widen as you connect the dots. “So all that dry lightning last year was you two…”
“Okay, changing the subject!” Brennan says loudly, not liking the way this conversation is headed. “We need to figure out how to use your signet without endangering Tavis’s life again.”
“Well, it sounds like they already found another way,” Ridoc says, grinning, but he squeaks out an apology as Garrick begins to rise from his chair.
You tug your boyfriend back into his seat by the sleeve, looking past him at Brennan. “I think I need to work a few days in the infirmary between flights,” you propose. “If I build up enough pain, I could probably-“
“NO,” the whole squad says at once, Tab included.
“Your healing is only to be used when absolutely necessary,” Xaden orders, and even though you’re on equal footing now, both newly-minted Lieutenants, you agree quietly without protest.
“See, that’s your problem,” Sloane says, and all eyes turn to her. “You defer to literally everyone. You’re an officer now. Act like it.”
“Pardon?” You ask, looking at her in disbelief.
“That’s exactly what she’s talking about,” Imogen cuts in. “Pardon? You can’t even discipline a first-year cadet. Do you really think any veteran rider will ever listen to what you have to say?”
“Enough,” you say firmly, your nails digging into the wood.
None of your friends intervene, not even Brennan. This has to be another nightmare. There’s no way they'd hang you out to dry like this. Right?
Sloane isn’t finished. “It’s a miracle you made it out of Basgiath alive. You’re too soft. If you won’t kill anyone, what are you going to do when it’s between your life or someone else’s? Their life or his?”
The mention of Garrick is your last straw. “That is enough from both of you, Cadets,” you reprimand. Thorny vines burst from the seams of the table, whipping out toward them, and they stagger back to avoid being cut.
You startle, your heart pounding against your ribs as you realize what you’ve done.
Sloane is the first to apologize. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean any of it. I just thought that provoking you might…” she doesn’t finish the sentence, looking down at the still-twitching vines covering the tabletop.
“We definitely took it too far,” Imogen adds, sounding genuinely remorseful. “That was a really fucked up thing for me to say. I’m sorry.”
Bodhi waves a hand, and the vines slither back into the table, as if they were never there. 
Your eyes widen at the blood on his cheeks — he’d been caught in the crossfire. You touch his face with a shaky hand, only brushing your fingertips across the skin, and the scratches disappear instantly, leaving no trace of the harm you’d done.
Somehow that makes you feel worse.
“Well,” Garrick says in his section-leader voice, “that was certainly informative, but none of you are to ever disrespect her like that again. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” both girls answer quietly, heads lowered in shame.
Your breathing has steadied enough to speak. “I understand why you did that, but I’m not going to tell you that it was okay, because it wasn’t.”
With that, you take your plate and leave. Nobody follows you.
———————————————————————
The balcony door slides open, soft footsteps approaching.
“I want to be alone, Gare,” you say quietly. 
“Not Garrick,” Xaden replies, settling down next to you on the stone floor, “and you may want to be alone right now, but you probably shouldn’t be.”
“I didn't mean to hurt anyone, Xay. You know that,” you whisper. You don’t move your gaze from the potted plant in front of you, as if you’re worried it will lash out at you — or him — if you turn away.
“I know, angel. I know.” He exhales deeply, a gentle cloud forming with the warmth of his breath. 
There’s a moment of quiet before he speaks again, just the sound of the cold wind over the valley and the distant footsteps of cadets running on the trail below. “Working through this is not going to be easy, but if anyone can do it, it’s you.”
You’ve come to hate that notion, everyone’s insistence that the pain you’ve been through has primed you for more pain, different pain. Why can’t it ever end?
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tenwhiteandalusians · 1 month ago
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olivia rodrigo get him back! dot mp3. so you’re telling me tenax ARRESTED his boyfriend while he was emotionally at his lowest for a trick they used to pull together in order to convince him to come back to him. it’s not like you could’ve just asked or anything.
and then no one said anything about the fact that if i watched ONE MORE episode tenax pulls a "i'm not angry i'm just disappointed i'm hurt" about scorpus signing with the white faction.
#‘for the sake of our old friendship’ WHAT KINDS OF ELABORATE FOREPLAY DO YOU ENGAGE IN#god. the pained little wait wait the brief SECOND of real anger and frustration tenax has when scorpus doesn’t immediately come back to him#and he can’t understand why. the smirk and the needling that all is right in the world when scorpus says yes and tenax says my friend#the FUNDAMENTAL MISUNDERSTANDING GOING ON HERE I COULD CHEW THROUGH STRAIGHT OBSIDIAN!!!!!!#can we also talk abt the MOTG speech tenax gave UGH perf. wish i could steal it that’s the vision/voice for him. at all times a lil smirk#having a real What Did I Know w/this one as well bc the breakdown he has @the senators? what if u got everything u wanted &nothing changed.#what if they still thought of u as lesser even tho u’d been raised quite literally 2 their level but a ft below. always 2little. not enough#WHAT A BEAUTIFUL PLOT TWIST SPOILER IF YOU DON’T KNOW BUT OF COURSE TENAX THE BASTARD OF A PATRICIAN OH I COULD DO SO MUCH DAMAGE WITH THAT#ON HIS POOR PSYCHEEEEE question everything about your life like hunh. are you a true stray if u killed your father (the ultimate roman sin#of patricide what a Guilt Complex) do you. are you a man of the people if you have the divine blood of the patricians do you even know what#they want and is what YOU want real or is it just the blood inside of you calling like to like. because even at your basest instincts#you know that you are only for yourself you have always been. and given the chance if they’d treated you equal you’d be just like them.#that’s what you wanted. isn’t it. if you admit it. is it really what anyone would do though? a true member of the masses which you’re not?#ALSO I SEE THE LESBIANS!! I SEE YOU HUNTRESS OF DIANA WITH YOUR HORN!!! OKAY WE WILL ALSO GET THERE!! WITH MY KWAME NARRATIVE I’M BUILDING!#i love that y'all get to watch me break down in semi-real time MONTHS after this show has been out.#i'm tagging spoiler for things you have known for like. a long time now. it's not news to you but it sure is to me!!!!!!#bc i drafted the post i am reblogging in AUGUST. & i just watched episode i am talking about on 12/16. uh. wasn't kidding abt the watch rat#never too late to enjoy things never too slow to watch and certainly not to start!!!! take your sweet old time rome wasn't built in a day!!#we are SO insanely back for the non-existent divorce fic. sometimes you DO have to put your partner in jail and make them suffer#true to form for the myths eh. but when i tell you the absolute whirring inside my brain when tenax didn't let him out like oh?#does he have to beg? are you coming back later with the key? is this a fun little game you divorced freaks play and make everyone witness?#AND THEN!!!! if i could bottle the exact way he says to scorpus “you're drunk” oh my god. scorpus hurt because THIS IS WHAT THEY DO#he's playing his role perfectly again but he doesn't know about the extortion he doesn't know what's going on because tenax won't tell him#and the quiet way he fades out and backs off yelling give me my money when tenax grips him then turns away oh. OH. the uncertainty of maybe#he thought wrong. maybe this is finally the time they don't do this anymore and tenax has given up he's found calla he sees the way he look#at her and she is better he knows that. he'd love her too. over him. and it's NOT THATTTTTT tenax can't tell him because he wants to protec#him that's what they've always done if no one knows you're safe. not too close to be a lover not an enemy someone would kill to gain favor-#a friend. an old friend. and he's shaking him by the shoulders bc if he wasn't drunk tenax would tell him now he needs him he NEEDS him#but instead he can't so he grips his shoulders & tries to say i don't have it he can't say it here in front of everyone he wants so badly#for him to understand. and scorpus of course does not. i love not-writing vague angst i don't have to clear up <3 between friends.
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inawickedlittletown · 4 months ago
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No Queerbaiting Here
A long time ago…I’m talking May of 2021, I wrote a meta post about queerbaiting. Essentially an essay. I wrote it right before the S4 finale of 9-1-1 aired because I was frustrated by Buddie fans calling Queerbait entirely like the boy that cried wolf. I still stand by it. Sort of. 
Now, even back then I was pretty clear about how 50/50 I was on Buddie ever going canon. (Maybe not in that post but certainly elsewhere) But, I shipped Buddie then and wrote a lot of fic and meta and participated in fandom. I never said it couldn’t happen…I just would never be bothered if it didn’t.
Where we stand now: It’s not going to happen. 
And where I stand now: fully immersed in Bucktommy. And what’s more, I am more than perfectly happy about Buck and Tommy staying together and going the long-run. Although I can still look at Buddie and think it’s a cute ship, I just don’t want it in canon. I would not be satisfied if the show went that way. But what’s more if Buck and Tommy don’t work out, that would be disappointing, but I’d be okay as long as they got to be happy. There is, after all, always fanfiction. 
So, I wanted to revisit this concept a bit now that Buck has been confirmed as Bisexual and now that he is in a relationship with a man. Not Eddie. Tommy. And somehow, some Buddie fans are still crying queerbait because their ship is not canon. That’s not how it works. Also…shipping works outside of canon, that’s the whole point of shipping. 
To reiterate from my original post on queerbaiting, here’s the definition from wikipedia:
“Queerbaiting is a marketing technique for fiction and entertainment in which creators hint at, but then do not actually depict, same-sex romance or other LGBTQ representation. They do so to attract a queer or straight ally audience with the suggestion of relationships or characters that appeal to them, while at the same time attempting to avoid alienating other consumers.” 
Here’s where I stand: Buddie was abandoned a long time ago. If it was ever a real possibility, we won’t ever know. What we do know is that Oliver was aware that at one point he had given them the go-ahead to make Buck Bi. Whether this was by putting Buck and Eddie together or having Buck realize this another way, we just don’t know that. We don’t have that information and nor will it probably ever be provided to us. Narratively, I know that a lot of fans figured the timing of it fit with S4 and that particular finale but we really just don’t know despite what happened in the finale.
I found that interesting looking back at my own post from back then and the discussion that followed where some fans felt that the way the finale went would determine if Buddie would be another queerbait ship. (I think most people agreed after the will scene that it wasn’t queerbait because it did leave a kernel of hope that Buddie might still happen). 
And yeah, I guess you could argue that the network deciding not to go the route of a queer storyline points to missed opportunity. That doesn’t then mean that any queerbaiting occurred or that any fans are owed anything just because something that was set up or that the writers were writing towards was then scrapped by the network. Is it a shame that it didn’t happen in whatever way they wanted to play it out, sure, but only because Buck would have been confirmed queer earlier. In the same vein isn’t it nice that we have a confirmed Bisexual Buck now? That the show managed to bring it back to that.
A Buck that is happy and free and that has realized something so monumental about himself? Isn’t it nice that all the queer coding that Buck as a character has received since the start of the show is actually finally not just queer coding but full on character development? That we can look back at the show and see all the things Buck did around other men for exactly what they were. 
When Tommy first returned to 9-1-1 in S7, I think a lot of us were excited by the spoilers about Buck and Tommy because of Bi Buck, but also because this was the thing that could lead to Buddie. 
And then…then Tommy was actually on my screen and I doubted it. I actually thought maybe the spoilers were wrong and this was about Eddie and Tommy? That episode flipped things in such an expertly way that by the time Tommy and Buck were sharing a kiss for the first time I was right there with Buck. On a second watch, it is all there. Buck was never jealous because his friend was ignoring him. He was jealous because his best friend had the attention of the guy whose attention he wanted for himself. The writing on that was perfect and no amount of twisting it can change what happened on screen. 
Buck was not jealous because of Eddie. Tommy was never interested in more than friendship with Eddie. And Buck and Tommy have nothing to do with Buddie. Tommy is not a stepping stone, a way for Buck to be ready to then embark on a relationship with Eddie. That’s both disrespectful to Tommy and Buck, but just not what the story being told on the show is doing. 
The storyline is monumental. Having a big strong guy, a firefighter, figure out his sexuality in his thirties is such good storytelling and add to that Tommy. Someone that we already know, who already works as a first responder, and who can show up and wow Buck in such a way that he realizes something about himself? This is what I’ve always wanted. Because guess what, Buck never questioned his sexuality before this. Not when he met Eddie and not when he met anyone else, not until Tommy. 
Going into the new season we know a few things and one of those is that Buck and Tommy are thriving. The media coverage talks about them as a solid couple, it talks about Buck having someone to turn to and complain to. It talks about how they are still in the getting to know each other phase and I love that for them. I love how they are being treated and described and I can’t wait to see what plays out for them and how much of the build up of their relationship we may get to actually see. 
Do you know what the media and the show never talked about outwardly like this? Buddie. Whenever it came up it was always brushed aside in a way that was respectful to fans and what they saw, but without ever confirming or hinting that the show would ever go there. They never queerbaited anyone with Buddie, what they have done is say “yeah…we know what you see” and then turned around and given us a Buck and Eddie friendship and Buck kissing Tommy, going on a date with Tommy, and thriving with Tommy. 
So, no queerbaiting here on the show where half of the major canon pairings are queer. It’s actually more like some fans baiting other fans with theories and headcanons that just don’t fit.
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sowrennie · 19 days ago
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Okay so I’m currently in Love and Deepspace hell and now it’s everyone’s problem. I may not entirely ever understand what’s going on, but that’s okay I’m still going to give my two cents on what Caleb may bring to the table. Please correct me if I’m wrong😭
LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MAINSTORY SPOILERS AHEAD!
1. Ties to EVER
Hear me out here. I know this is a common speculation but I want to delve into it and lay out the facts where I can see them. We kind of know what EVER’s goal is, we also— according to the notes we collect— know where their investments lie. They play a dominant role in biotechnological developments, aerospace, Evol energy, and international trade. We also know that Caleb works as a fighter pilot for the Deepspace Aviation Administration. He attended the Aerospace Academy in Skyhaven: an artificial floating island above Linkon. From what I gather, Skyhaven is powered by a protocore— and EVER is known for their involvement and use of protocores in modification/advancement. With what is made known to us it’s safe to conclude that Caleb is an affiliate. It’s hard to say whether or not he knows about the aether core, assuming he does though, he knows that upon the experiments— MC is basically immortal. She would be an asset to their research, and goal of extending lives. I wonder if Caleb feeds them this information, but at the same time— I’m just… not fully sure, seeing his particular niche and all. It does feel like they have their eyes on mc, though… I don’t entirely remember, but in awaited revelry, doesn’t Sylus imply that Josephine and Caleb have malicious intentions…? That being said—
2. Caleb’s return..?
I have a speculation that, like many cases we see (albeit some failed ones), he’ll be resuscitated via protocore; EVER can’t lose a valuable asset, after all. It fits thematically, and can further establish Caleb’s character as a character foil to Zayne (who despite his regrets, feels that death is a necessary part of the human existence.) An apple a day keeps the doctor away and all! This is the first ML we know that actively has interacted with another, and I genuinely can’t wait for what this means for Zayne’s story, even if EVER isn’t behind Caleb’s heavily implied return. He’s still facing what should be a dead man, and ugh. I KNOW his emotions are going to pile up. Staring directly at the Mt. Eternal anecdote. This could be a stretch, but— Carter, Xander Sciences trying to rope Zayne into their projects over and over— MC is the perfect bait, and bringing Caleb back may establish MC’s direct involvement and have Zayne be enticed by proxy. Caleb does play the role of the forbidden (potentially), and this could be how that motif comes into play.
3. Snake Motif…
Okay so I have yet to do my research on this entirely, but like— I just think it’s so interesting that they released Sylus during the year of the Dragon, and then potentially Caleb, during the year of the Snake. That aside, though— the clear biblical connection between the snake and the apple and potentially being that lure— what snakes generally symbolize (mystery, deceit…), and I saw this floating around somewhere, but apparently in CN he calls the MC ‘little tail’? I’m so interested in what this could mean symbolically with all his apparent affiliations, buuut that’s for us to see.
I’m looking forward to that livestream and tbh idk if anything here made sense but I’m so normal about this game (even if I likeee barely understand it.) What are you going to do Caleb. What’s happening. I know this is different from what I usually post here but I NEEDED to yap or else I might go insane idk
What are you hiding.
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paigegonerogue · 19 days ago
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New Trailer Analysis
This is just my job at this point. This is what I do. This isn’t including clips we’ve seen in previous trailers, so if you want to see my thoughts on those check my other trailer analysis’💖
(This is probably my best trailer analysis yet)
SPOILERS!!
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I loved the emphasis of the red and green in this trailer. It’s a pair of complimentary colors that don’t get used nearly enough, especially compared to the more stereotypical orange/teal. Also, this is definetly Abby’s POV of the hospital, which means we WILL be getting her backstory at some point in the season, so we almost definetly won’t be ending on the POV shift/following the exact structure of the game. Also, this makes me love the decision for Joel’s rampage to feel dissociative even more, since for him everything goes quiet and he rages through the halls, but for Abby she experiences the full horror of it.
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Abby’s gun from the game!
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Firefly pendant!
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I just love this shot. The colors and composition are so good, it brings to mind horror movies like Alien which really enforces Joel as this “force of nature” being during the hospital rampage.
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This is a Seraphite. You can tell by the outfit, as well as the weapon. This might be the first time Ellie meets them, since it appears to be in the forest with fire lighting. This may be the ritual.
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It’s edited to look like Isaac is part of the ritual, but the background colors and lighting don’t match up. This is almost definitely a sneaky edit.
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Ellie and Dina are wearing the same clothes from the early set photos. This is Ellie’s raincoat, which means this is probably Seattle day 1. They appear to be running from something, probably WLF?
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This is the dance scene, you can tell by the outfits and hairstyles. This reinforces the fact that they almost definitely won’t be telling the story in the same order. Also, Dina is wearing a bracelet with the Hand of Fatima (aka the Hamsa Hand or the Hand of Mary). This is a common icon in Jewish culture that’s used to ward off evil (my nana gave me a necklace just like this). However, it’s also commonly used in Peru (where Isabella Merced’s mom is from), so I like to think that this is paying respects to the characters original roots while also tying into to her current ones, rather than a confirmation that Dina will be played Jewish.
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JOELLLLLL!! This is probably around when he meets Abby, judging by the snow and general setting. My guess is he’s slamming the door against infected.
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More time in Jackson!! Judging by the level of Ellie’s level of intensity here, I think it’s very possible that this is after Joel’s death and she’s training for Seattle. Or possibly around the time of the firefly hospital, since this is definitely not young Ellie.
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God did I already say how much I loved the red lighting? Yes? Okay, the I’ll just say that judging by the background and the colors this is probably the subway station. This and the Jackson horde seem to be the big sequences of s2, like Endure and Survive in s1.
Also, in the v/o we hear Abby refer to herself as “someone with a code”, but I’m fairly certain that she, nor the WLF have a strict code to follow, so maybe that’s something to be added (or her just speaking in terms of general morals)
We didn’t get a ton of new stuff this trailer, and it wasn’t quite as character driven as the Future Days trailer, but I’m still hyped we got anything lmao
ALSO I WAS RIGHT!! CHECK MY POSTS!! APRIL!! GO ME!!
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wanderingaldecaldo · 5 months ago
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An open letter to the Cyberpunk fandom in general, and a few people in particular
It’s time to clear the air, and I want to take responsibility where appropriate.
Before we get into the recent drama, a history lesson is in order, both for the newer people in fandom and for those who have been around and just haven’t heard things from my side. This might be long with all the linked posts, so buckle up.
I don’t talk much to people about my experiences in fandom for several reasons — first, I don’t like to talk about others with people I don’t know; gossiping with friends is one thing, but otherwise it’s an undesirable trait. Because I’m human and fallible and absolutely capable of failing to meet my own standards, I have violated that rule, and it rarely does anything good. Second, even when I do share, people don’t tend to believe me because the responsible party, PinkyDude (PKD), has been “so nice” to them. “Surely there was a misunderstanding” is the most common response. 
No, there’s been no misunderstanding. He has harassed me repeatedly, both directly and indirectly, and has deleted most of the posts he’s made or reblogged from his friends/mutuals/followers that would serve as proof of this harassment. I could dig up old screenshots that people sent or I saved myself after being told of a post’s existence, but honestly I don’t want to go through that dreck again; my mental health is worth more to me than that. Instead I’ll present in my own words what happened to me over the last three years. I have spoken publicly about him three times before now — four if you count my response to the anon, which never referenced him or his ship. All of those posts are still visible and will be linked. I told you this would be a long read, but you need the context.
I joined Tumblr in spring/early 2021, back when I only wrote fic and played on console. PKD blocked me the first time I posted my fic, as is his right. As I was new to Tumblr, I didn’t understand the Tumblr app was actually telling me I was blocked whenever I clicked on the links on Discord, so I thought it was just bad software. Spoiler: it’s still bad software (affectionate). When I found out I was blocked, I was upset; I didn’t know about RSD at the time. I sent one anon asking why he blocked people; I was just a lowly AO3 author and he was the big, popular modder, and I was baffled and very upset and should have closed the browser, to be honest. He answered and explained why he blocked people (totally valid!! I will continue to emphasize that!) and shared how blocked people could still view his blog in a number of ways. Honestly, it was too much work for me to go through all of those steps, so I moved on with my life.
Not long after, he did unblock me for a few weeks and posted how someone had shown him how to filter posts. He messaged me to tell me I was unblocked, and we exchanged a few courteous messages. I believe I asked if it would be okay if I followed him. I know he expressed concern about me feeling discomfort at his ship. I don’t remember my exact response but I said I thought they were cute. That was the whole point of me joining fandom — I want to share love for blorbos! Things were civil, as far as I knew, though based on his comments later, it seems he and I had two completely different experiences. Where I believed I was polite and tried to be respectful to someone who had established boundaries, he accused me of being spiteful and vengeful. Soon after I started taking my own VP (with Mitch) he blocked me again. He sent a message to apologize that he needed to do it, and made a vague post that was directed to me, I assume, as it was something like “Sorry I tried” or whatever, and I moved on with my life, or tried. I still saw his Mitch pics in Discord servers when people shared them, though I saw fewer that were just Mitch alone.
The first time I spoke about PKD was Fall 2021, during the “not PKD approved” debacle, where someone (a follower of his! Not my follower! I cannot stress that enough!) reblogged a gif of Val and Mitch with the tag “not PKD approved.” I shared a screenshot with friends because, uh, that’s what you do, right? That’s what anyone would do — share a screenshot of an offensive tag with friends. One of those friends, a writer who had published Mitch/V on AO3 and also received anon hate on their Mitch fics, thought it was funny and used it for their Discord status. Someone shared that status with PKD, and he made vague accusations about who started the hashtag. 
I publicly defended a person who thought they were being accused, a friend at the time, and made the only statement about him that I regret and would take back — I commented on his propensity for reblogging posts that emphasize having the right to block people. I shouldn’t have said that, it wasn’t appropriate, and I apologize. Of course everyone has the right to block people for whatever reason they want. I disagree with what I said then and retract it now. 
Back to how I was targeted... Remember that it was my post that someone tagged with another person’s name; another person who had me blocked because of their jealousy about seeing anyone else with Mitch. I never named the person who tagged my post, yet I was deemed the perpetrator. Many months later, Zwei DMed me when we shared a small server to offer the most non-apology apology ever for telling people that I started the hashtag. Thanks, Zwei! Almost makes up for the other lies you told about me!
The second time was my response to the anon I got trying to “educate” me after the Pawel stream. I never referenced PKD or his ship. We’ll come back to this more in-depth later because it’s what PKD keeps using to harass me.
The third time I spoke publicly about PKD was when Silvay (sp?) posted first on Twitter, then later Tumblr. I posted a follow up the next day. I debated not saying anything. I’m an avoidant person. I don’t like conflict. I have a loud bark and no bite. My former team members can attest to this. But when I do... I don’t make public statements I’m not willing to defend, which is why everything I have linked is still published.
I do recommend stopping to read the posts linked here, and even the other posts I reblogged at the time from other people who shared their own experiences with PKD and the fandom. As I said, I don’t make public statements I won’t defend; or at least apologize and issue a public retraction. But, if you want to stay with the present and would rather have the TL;DR: I was regularly vagued about by PKD or his friends/followers, calling me transphobic and homophobic; one accused me of corrective rape; and I got tired of it.
I thought that posting publicly might bring some closure. It was cathartic to finally get it out and stop carrying that shame, and it was reassuring to hear from people who had similar experiences. At the same time, quite a few people made their own posts along the lines of “HE WAS ALWAYS NICE TO ME”. 
Oh, but he’s always been nice to me!
Look me in the eyes. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you truly believe he would be nice to you if you shipped with Mitch. Do you really believe he would? Do you think he would “block and move on” with you, unlike how he did with me?
None of those people shipped with Mitch, or other characters that people in his clique were protective over. A few months later he made a post saying not to tag me with him, and listed off every screenname I had used since I joined fandom, including the very first tumblr name I was assigned in 2021 and kept for several months because I thought it was funny. How’s that for a dog whistle? Want PKD’s attention? Better not tag wash!! [I’m sure there’s a screenshot somewhere but again, I didn’t have the energy to find it.]
By the way, why do I know all this? If I’m blocked, I shouldn’t see anything he posts without circumventing “the system”. We are mutually blocked and I don’t spy on him, or have my friends spy on him. I always knew what was going on because people were always quick to let me know anytime he was vaguing about me. “Friends” who were really concerned about the latest thing he said about me, or thought it was just terrible how people were always attacking my ship and wanted to share that feeling with me, but they only shared those thoughts in private. Slowly I separated myself from people who felt the need to keep me updated on drama, or some of them separated themselves from me and became friends with PKD, to the point that either nothing happened for some time or I just stopped seeing it, at least until last fall.
The last time I talked about him publicly was when I wrote about Fem V Friday in Fall 2023. Through the usual chain of vague posting about vague posts, a third person wrote a vague post and cast aspersions on the origin of Fem V Friday, suggesting it was created out of jealousy. PKD helpfully weighed in about a person named “W”  starting FVF from jealousy and spite, and implied he’s seen things I’ve said about him. I’d love to know what I’ve said, the context in which it was said, and the context in which he was told about what I said. 🤷
My post in response didn’t reference the vague post that spurred its creation, nor what PKD said about me, even though PKD must know my intentions and history better than me. I wrote about my love for Fem V and what drove my continued involvement week to week.
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Despite my attempts to keep to my own corner or defend my name, PKD continues to defame and harass me. He has repeatedly dragged other people into his drama, sometimes my friends, just as he did in May when he brought up my anon response again. 
It was over two years ago now that I received the anon to “educate” me on Mitch being gay. I have never believed PKD sent the anon, despite his implications, and I have certainly never told anyone that he did.
Two years ago, a coward came into my inbox on anon and tried to bully me, and instead of spending a day writing five thousand words on “death of the author” and what constitutes canon and refuting the argument that I didn’t want to have, I used that energy to write about my ship in my favorite genre (smut) and published a fic on AO3. Neither my fic nor my response on tumblr referenced Mitch being gay or PKD’s ship. Before we go further, I encourage you to watch the relevant clip from the Pawel stream. It’s only 30 seconds of your time, but those 30 seconds are what PKD and others have used to justify their harassment of me.
The transcript for anyone not inclined to watch:
PKD: Am I right to overanalyze every detail in every place like the gay romance novel in Mitch's tent? Is that intentional? Pawel: My friend, on this stream, you could have learned already that everything is intentional...
The “gay romance novel in Mitch’s tent” is 1000 Beats Per Minute, a shard found all across Night City, nay, the continent as the shard/prop can be found in such locations as All Foods just after you meet Dum Dum, the foot of V’s bed in A10, and So Mi’s Brooklyn apartment. 
The contents of the shard are worth reading, if only for recognizing that the narrator is an ungendered person named “Alex” who is experiencing love for a man for the first time. Is Alex a man or a woman or neither? Whoever they are, Alex is having a queer experience, and to insist that the shard can only be about gay men is to erase a lot of other queer experiences.
Back to my anon response, PKD once again called my response transphobic and homophobic, though I will give him credit for saying he wasn’t calling me trans/homophobic, which is an upgrade from previous posts. He claims that I used the smut that I wrote as my response because I referenced writing “the smuttiest pussy eating smut I could”. I said “pussy eating” not in relation to anything about the claim that Mitch is gay, but as response to the intentions of the anon, which were never good.
The full context of my words: 
Not entirely sure what you were trying to accomplish with this message, anon. Should I pack up my words and keyboard and go home? See if it's too late to return my gaming PC because I can't take screenshots of Mitch anymore? Whatever your goal was, you pushed me to write the smuttiest pussy eating smut I could imagine. You know who wins today? - I do, because I wrote a shitload of words in one day and finished a piece that didn't even exist 8hrs ago - people who want more Fem V/Mitch content do - my meat husband does bc damn, I wrote 1800 words of smut today - not you
PKD is claiming that my description of smut I wrote about my ship is trans/homophobic.
The description of the smut I wrote about a cis bisexual female (Val) whose pussy was eaten by her cis bisexual male partner (Mitch). 
The smut I wrote about my ship, in which no one is trans or gay. 
You cannot apply the lens of PKD’s ship and characters to my writing and call it transphobic or homophobic. That’s not how literary analysis works. That’s not how social justice works.
The truth is that PKD and his mutuals/friends used his ship and beliefs to harass me. 
If that were me and it were my beliefs being used to harass someone on anon, I would demand whoever it was to stop immediately, not only because harassing people over fictional characters is awful and wrong, but good lord, to use me as the excuse? I would be mortified! Instead, PKD and his mutuals/followers used it as evidence of my being a bad person, and after several months of that, I borrowed Silvay’s courage when he posted on Twitter, and shared my own experience.
Now that we have the full background, let’s move on to recent drama and address the Flat Chest body and the wearable pecs mod, and what part I played in the process and when. This next part is for motherherbivore. I wish you had talked to me first. I thought I’d rate high enough for a DM. 
A Brief History of The Flat Chest Body Under Curation of Wash
I reached out to Na in March about helping update the Flat Chest body. I specifically wanted to update it to dynamic to take advantage of AXL’s dynamic clothing and, more importantly to me, reduce the number of clothing overrides I had to install for Hilary; plus I wanted to add toggle feet so I could have better options for shoes. Also I had another OC I’d been kicking around in my head, Grem, that I wanted to make using the flat chest. Grem did debut recently, but he changed drastically from my original vision for him.
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Sharing the news with Kitty (shared with permission)
I started working on updating the mod in April but got stuck because I didn’t understand resource patching, even though I was sure it would be easy. :hidethepain: I tried adding the feet too, but everything I did resulted in a seam at the calves. As is all too common with my ADHD, I moved onto something else after getting stuck.
As I mentioned I was interested in dynamic AXL, and wanted to update my custom tee framework for Pride. With dynamic AXL, someone could generate all colors with all logos at once! (220, do not try this at home!) I included the dynamic version of the Flat Chest mesh in the upload to Nexus, even though the Flat Chest body wasn’t ready yet, but as a goal for me to also have it done in June.
I had the UV version working in early June, before the Angel body came out. I don’t remember if we already knew about the body’s existence at that point, but the community outcry against yet another unrealistic and fetishistic body mod sustained me in updating a mod that appealed to a small subset of fandom.
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The message I sent to Na the morning I got it working
I got the UV version working first, since that’s what Hilary uses, then took a look at toggle feet again. After further investigation using both UV and VTK bodies, I realized there would always be a seam because the bodies were drastically different from the current body; they were completely different meshes underneath, and the seams would never line up properly. 
At that point I decided to release the functioning dynamic version without toggle feet, as I wanted to get it out for Pride. I reached out to mhb to test, as had always been my intention. For me Sanctuary is the most iconic OC to use the Flat Chest. After some technical difficulties I figured out that she used the vanilla version, and came back a few days later with a functioning vanilla version. I released my update once I had assembled the necessary files and pics from the testers, mhb included.
Later when PKD released the refits for his pecs, someone commented that the vanilla refits worked for the Flat Chest body. That’s been my only interest in his pecs mod — because people who use the Flat Chest were interested in having more clothing options. The release of the so-called “Flat Chest Detector” meant that Flat Chest body users wouldn’t be able to use the clothing refit for his wearable pecs, because it required using his pecs, which clipped with tattoos and cyberware — as is expected because it’s not a body mod, as he himself said on the mod page.
As the representative for the Flat Chest body, I agreed when streetkid-named-desire (Rat) asked me to be involved in the conversation with Berdagon about adapting their “Flat Chest” detector to recognize the Flat Chest body. Rat drove this conversation. I don’t say this to dump responsibility on them. In fact, I visited them last weekend and we talked through the situation. I suggested to Rat that I could have urged them to slow down, but they refused to let me take that responsibility, and at the end of the day they’re right — I can only control my own actions.
I do have one regret and one opportunity where I could have acted differently: when Rat asked Berdagon about the original script, Rat very explicitly asked whether the script was commissioned by PKD, and if so, Rat stated they were willing to pay to make changes; Berdagon never answered the question, and I wish I had pushed for an answer. Perhaps that could have prevented the entire situation; we could have stopped right then. While Berdagon never mentioned payment, Rat was so excited by how quickly they implemented the requested changes that they tipped them for the work.
Berdagon, the original script writer, owed PKD the responsibility to check in before modifying something that PKD paid for. Yes, Berdagon does have responsibility here as a professional who took money for a commission. When they didn’t answer the question, I could have stopped the process and pushed for an answer. I would have stopped things immediately upon hearing the answer that the script had been commissioned by PKD. PKD could still have been outraged at Rat asking for changes, but there wouldn’t have been fandom-wide drama about a body that only a dozen people use.
That’s the responsibility I will take — I, as a professional who works with consultants and freelancers, could have taken steps to ensure that everyone was acting professionally, including the person who received money twice to work on the same script.
Because I feel the need to be thorough in my explanation, here’s a simplified timeline of the release of the Flat Chest mod compared to the wearable pecs:
Late March - I receive files from Na for Flat Chest
April - I get stuck, stop working on it
April-May - I figure out dynamic AXL and convert tee framework
June 3 - I have a working dynamic UV Flat Chest
In response to outcry over the Angel body, PKD makes a poll asking what body types people want refits for and excludes Flat Chest body as an option
In response to people commenting over why Flat Chest wasn’t included, PKD explains he won’t support the body and that he would support a different Flat Chest body if someone made it
June 10 - I share the UV version for testing with several people. Two of those people, including mhb, use vanilla. I didn’t realize that, and because I didn’t name the file `UV` it took a long time to troubleshoot why things weren’t working
PKD releases the pecs
I share vanilla for testing
I post Flat Chest 2.0 before the end of June
I didn’t use you, mhb. I asked you to test because, like I said above and on Nexus, Sanctuary is the Flat Chest character for me. I asked you to test because I make mods for my friends first and foremost, and I thought you were my friend. I thought you were my friend because we’d known each other for several years now, and because of shared experiences and conversations we’ve had. I’ve been wrong before about who is a friend, and this one stings a lot.
I’m tired. I am 30 or 40 (or 50) years old and I do not need this. I have a career and a job I love, and an amazing partner who I’ve been with for a third of my life now. I have friends and hobbies in meatspace and friends who share those hobbies, and the real truth is, if I was actually trans/homophobic, well, that number would be tiny, but it’s not. I have a life that I love and that is full of joy. Most people in fandom only know the smallest fraction of the real wash, and I do not take pleasure in being targeted in a public fandom “feud”.
PKD, I say this with all the kindness I can muster for another human being who is clearly hurting: please get help. Go to therapy or see a psychiatrist or use whatever tools you can access. This obsession you have with me and my ship is not healthy for you, and your repeated pattern of bullying has hurt me and people close to me, just as your need to rehash old fandom drama hurts the community.
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ringsreforged · 4 months ago
Text
Natalie's *deep* Haladriel thoughts - BEWARE
Pau - When you read this later, let me know if you want me to move it to my personal account, yeah? If it even still exists...
I’m not really sure what this post is going to end up being. A defence of the show and the separation? In part! A critique of the show based off leak spoilers and my own gut feeling? For sure! A desperate ramble in an attempt to get my head in order? Absolutely!
I will say before we dive in that I’m absolutely a Haladriel shipper, but the way I ship isn’t always in line with fandom. I ship what I see as part of the narrative because it’s the narrative, and everything else is a bonus. I make this distinction because I think this is why I’m so okay with a lack of scenes when some others are not, and I don’t want to come across preachy. I don't think I'm in any way superior for this by the way. In fact, I wish I could be more *normal*!!!!
If you came to this show for Haladriel alone, and simply want to see them share scenes week to week – that’s your prerogative. I’m not trying to say you shouldn’t feel that way. What I might try to say is that I don’t think that makes the shows bad or suggests that the writers have baited with this relationship. I think that’s ultimately what I find frustrating…
But anyway, let’s get into whatever this is. A reflection on expectations, a five-season arc, and those STUPID spoiler leaks…
AND THERE WILL BE SPOILERS. STAY AWAY. HISS.
Alright, so this post is mostly brought to you by a sinking feeling I have that the leak spoilers are real. Because everything in that episode 7 promo matches up.
STOP READING if you don’t want to know the spoilers. And honestly? STOP READING IF YOU THINK YOU WANT TO KNOW because living with this knowledge has truly made this season less enjoyable for me (credit to it, then, because I still think it’s incredible). IF I’M MAKING YOU PANIC, STILL STOP READING because there very much is a world where these spoilers aren’t that bad in context…but I prefer to keep my expectations low…
Have you gone???
HAVE YOU GONE?????
SPOILER TALK
Okay.
So, the leak spoilers say that there is no kiss between Sauron and Galadriel (which, honestly, I have no great issue with – more to come on that later). Instead, the kiss is ELROND AND GALADRIEL, and I absolutely do take issue with this.
I can only hope and PRAY that it works in context, but I can’t get my head around it. And yet, the promo…it’s all falling into place. Elrond will be sent to discuss terms with the orcs before the battle. He’ll see Galadriel in chains, and he’ll ask for a moment to say goodbye. Adar will allow it because he’s a gent like that. This is where we get the chin touch with the thumb everyone speculated over and then…HE LEANS IN AND KISSES HER TO PUT A NEEDLE IN HER MOUTH? SO SHE CAN RELEASE HERSELF LATER??
To clarify, most of this is my spec, but THE KISS TO PASS HER A NEEDLE IS A REAL LEAKED SPOILER THAT NO LONGER SEEMS FAKE.
It's just…so convoluted and weird??? Does he store needles in his mouth like a squirrel? Why couldn’t he have slipped the needle into her hand??? WHY ARE YOU PUTTING ELROND’S LIPS ON GALADRIEL’S?
And look, maybe this spoiler IS still fake! But the details were so specific, and everything about the context seems to be accurate, so that feels like it would be a bonkers coincidence to me. Maybe when we actually see it play out, it will be fine.
But that does bring me back to the Haladriel of it all, just briefly. With my whole heart, I do not need them to kiss. After season 1, I didn’t think it would be possible, and I’m okay with that. But if you’re willing to let ELROND’S lips touch her, then MY GOD, you could have let Haladriel have ONE kiss where she’s trying to distract him or some shit. OOF.
My only relief is that it happens next week, so we can hopefully get it out of our systems and enjoy the finale.
That said, if these leaks are true then that also means the finale leaks are true. Now, I actually never wanted to see any of these spoilers (hence me making it VERY CLEAR what this post is about, because I wouldn’t inflict this stress on anyone unwillingly), so once I got the Elrond kiss details, I tried to get away without seeing much else. But there was some information on the big Haladriel scene.
I’m actually not going to detail it here, because – overall – I think we’ll still super enjoy it (just…lower those kiss expectations) AND because I don’t think all of it was spoiled. At the end of the day, there will be plenty to unpack, they’ll be back on our screens, it will be meaty, it will be layered. I’m really looking forward to it, in general.
My one fear is that it’s a season 1 finale repeat. And again, that won’t necessarily be bad per se, but it will feel a little bit underwhelming. Now, I’m not somebody that wants a true corruption arc for Galadriel. Normally, I love that shit, but not in this IP and not with this character. I want to see her explore her darkness, I want to see her face it and accept it, and I certainly want to see her be tempted…but I don’t expect or believe we'll ever actually get the whole ‘dark queen of Mordor’ vibe. Prisoner? Maybe. But not an actual dark queen.
That said…surely this scene doesn’t play out the EXACT same way as season 1? Sauron shows her a vision, she’s tempted, but ultimately resists and tells him she’ll never be at his side. I just don’t get why we’d repeat that, when there are so many other options that still keep Gal on the side of light.
I keep coming back to Galadriel’s line to Elrond in episode 4 – when it comes down to it, he has to choose to defeat Sauron and sacrifice her. I feel like if I hadn’t seen the leaks, then I would be 1000% expecting this to be the outcome. Especially with how Elrond’s theme comes in at the end of The Last Temptation track. He comes upon the confrontation but chooses to do the thing that will harm Sauron in the long run, rather than the thing that will save Galadriel.
I hope so badly for this, but I do worry that it will go the other way. What if it parallels Gandalfanger’s destiny/friend choice, and Elrond chooses her because THAT is how light wins or some shit? Not that this will be a bad scene by any stretch – I love their relationship and want to see their FRIENDSHIP (grrrr) reforged…but, again, the S1 finale! Sauron left her in the water, and Elrond was there to save her.
There’s also Galadriel’s conversation with Adar in the most recent episode – you succumbed, I resisted – but I guess this could go either way? He succumbed, so she resists. She insists she’s able to resist, so she succumbs. URGH. MY HEAD.
There MUST be a difference. SURELY??? Like, this season has been so well written…I just can’t comprehend the copy and paste.
Again, this isn’t anything close to a deal breaker for me. I firmly believe the showrunners when they say this relationship will remain the core of the show, but…hmmm. Okay, on that note…
DAMAGE CONTROL – MOVING ONTO THE DEFENCE OF THE SHOW
So, this is where I want to get into some stuff that I just…don’t agree with that I’ve seen being thrown at the show by shippers. And I’ll reiterate here that I’m truly not telling anybody what to feel. You can hate the show for its choices and feel how you feel. You can express yourself in your social media spaces, and if anybody doesn’t like it they can mute/block/unfollow. This chunk isn’t really aimed at you guys.
This is more for other people like me, because I’m cursed to be somebody that generally wants to just…enjoy things for what they are, while also being susceptible to the mood of others. I want to scroll tags and have a good time, rather than see negativity because it lowers my mood (this isn’t just ship related by the way, I really love this show overall…it’s just this tag that has been impacting my mood most this season). Regardless of the nonsense that might be in episode 7, and even if the finale scene is a repeat of S1, I’m still going to want to focus on enjoying what we get, enjoying the narrative being told etc. So, for those of you that have a little sinking feeling in your gut after the first half of this post, hopefully this second half will help.
This isn’t a ‘typical’ ship. This is a true ENEMIES ARE ENEMIES dynamic where the bad boy is ultimately going to be (is already) pure evil, and where our heroine is the embodiment of light. There are certain things that we just have to accept when it comes to loving this dynamic as part of the show – there will never be another season like season 1. Nor should there be?
Do I wish for s3 to have them in close proximity for at least a few episodes? Of course! Do I think it’s possible with or without finale spoilers? Absolutely (given how quickly characters travel from place to place on this show, they could end the season at opposite ends of Middle Earth and this would still be on the cards…). I’m also anticipating Season 4 as a good time for them to be in full MIND PALACE mode – where the rings are all ringing, but Galadriel hasn’t yet worked out how to shut him out yet. By season 5, there might just be one final scene before the final battle. But, again, I really do think there needs to be a little bit of acceptance of that. Or, at least, expectation of it.
Something I really want to push back against is this idea that Haladriel was baited or teased, but the writers don’t actually care for it. Honestly, that’s nonsense to me on a couple of levels.
First of all, almost EVERY dynamic this season has been reduced to a handful of scenes here and there. The most consistent relationships have probably been Annatar and Celebrimbor, and Durin+Durin+Disa (off the top of my head). Elrond and Durin (probably the other most popular dynamic of S1) have been apart all season, Elrond and Galadriel have too. Isildur popped up to say hello and we might not see him again.
When you actually stop and look at this season…Sauron and Galadriel had to be separated. She could not be anywhere near him while he’s working Celebrimbor, and there’s no world in which they were ever going to change that narrative. And yet, the Sauron and Galadriel dynamic has been consistent across the season. With Galadriel predominantly (and depending on how the finale goes, I may have thoughts on this), but it has also been easier with her because people have talked with her openly about Sauron. It’s been harder on his side, but the fact that Mirdania seems to have been cast to look like Galadriel honestly – right now – feels like it was done with the express purpose of giving Sauron a Galadriel reference.
Again, I’m not saying you have to like the lack of scenes, but it’s not bad writing to respect the overarching narrative of an ensemble show. Galadriel’s season has been all about him, and we’ve had countless insights to make that clear – building up to their final confrontation. If Sauron was running around mentioning Galadriel every five seconds with Celebrimbor or with the dwarves, it would be horrendously out of character.
This next comment is…somewhat dependent on the finale…but as somebody that loves Elendil and Miriel, everything in Numenor has been somewhat crammed in. I would firmly argue that the Galadriel/Sauron dynamic across this season has been treated with care and reverence, all building to a climax designed as the high point of the season. Will we be 100% satisfied? Who can say! But it IS what the season is building to.
I think this brings me around to a particular gripe I have, and maybe the people that believe this came to the show after S1 had fully aired or something…but there’s this idea floating around that the showrunners don’t like this dynamic and are just giving it crumbs to bait people into watching. This makes me want to scream.
These showrunners literally took a few lines about Galadriel being tempted by Sauron and PITCHED THE ENTIRE SHOW OFF OF THAT. The Tolkien estate wasn’t only pitched by Amazon BUT CHOSE THIS PITCH OVER ANYTHING ELSE. Season 1 was written pretty much like a prologue centred around GALADRIEL AND SAURON HAVING A PERSONAL CONNECTION WITH ROMANTIC UNDERTONES…and guess what?
They wrote all that…they filmed ALL THAT…before knowing anything about the audience reaction! That was ALL the showrunners, the writers, the directors, the actors. They ARE the narrative. They are not bait.
Does that mean the fundamentals of their dynamic will always please you, individually? No, of course not. Some people want outright romance, some people want soft Sauron, some people want Dark Galadriel. Will they kiss? I doubt it. Do I wish they would? Sure! Will they be separated again next season? Probably! Will I also wish that they could at least be stuck together for a run of episodes again? Absolutely!
But the idea that any of this is bait, or unimportant to the show drives me a little bit bonkers.
I guess my personal feeling of frustration comes from the fact that I feel so lucky they are exploring this show from the perspective of this dynamic, regardless of specific details/scenes. I’d bet my house (I don’t own a house) that every other pitch hinged on Elendil or Isildur as the protagonists of the show. Now, I love those dudes, but just IMAGINE? The fact that we’re on this path at all is still WILD to me.
ANYWAY, this is what happens when Paulina goes on holiday and I have nobody to ramble too. Sorry for the explosion, but I’ve been dreading the stupid kiss spoiler since I stumbled on it after EPISODE BLOODY 3 and so I needed to vent somewhere.
TL;DR: You are welcome to feel the way you feel, and if you hate everything you go right ahead, but maybe this makes sense to somebody. IDK. IDK.
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aquaquadrant · 1 year ago
Text
Title: poor language
Warnings: Shipping (Ethubs, past Impdubs, kissing), session 4 spoilers, references to past seasons
~*~
“You know, Impulse came with me to kill the dragon.”
Bdubs says it casually as he slides off his horse. They’ve officially ended the session, but a few players are still hanging around, catching up on the session’s chaotic events before heading back to their respective worlds. So naturally, he had to stop by Etho’s place to gloat some more about his legendary accomplishment.
Etho, doing some last minute work on his chicken farm, doesn’t look over at Bdubs’s arrival. “Oh, yeah?”
(‘You know, our old thing- if things come down to it, we don’t betray each other.’)
“Yeah.” Bdubs ties his horse to one of the fence posts of Etho’s sheep pen. “Yes, he did, he- it was me, him, and Pearl first before those other- those sneak- snipers, freaking kill-stealers came in after, of course. But Impulse, he- you know, he couldn’t actually kill anything this session so he was just helpin’ out, shooting th- the uh… end crystals… moral support…”
Etho nods, his back still turned to Bdubs. “Good, good.”
“Yes…” Bdubs clears his throat. He puts as much admiration into his voice as humanly possible. “He did amazing.”
(‘Guess what? Impulse and I are in love.’)
“I’m sure he did,” Etho replies, his tone perfectly, infuriatingly neutral.
Irritation flickers through Bdubs. He pauses for a second, working his jaw. “Eeugh- you know it was my task, right?” he presses. “I ha- my hard task, most impossible task in’a world, kill the ender dragon in the life series…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Finally, Etho climbs out of the chicken hole, dusting his hands off. “I- I kinda figured, ‘cause you know, you were pushing real hard for it…”
“Uh huh.” Scowling, Bdubs puts his hands on his hips. “Well- thanks a lot, then, for the help!”
(‘You could’ve went for me, and you chose not to.’)
Etho’s grinning behind his mask. “What, you expect me to fight a dragon just to help you out?” he asks teasingly.
(‘You clearly don’t know how Etho works.’)
Bdubs’s voice dies in his throat. He swallows, glancing alway. “No,” he lies. “No, I don’t…”
“Gotta play smart in these games, you know?” Etho puts his hands in his pockets, walking over. “Going to the end, uh, it just doesn’t make logical sense. Like, especially if it’s not even my task.”
(‘Etho, I feel like if this whole thing falls apart, alliances and stuff- it’ll still be you and me. We’ll still stick together.’)
“Right,” Bdubs murmurs sullenly. He folds his arms. “Right, right, right, of course.”
Etho comes to a stop in front of him. “So like, why else would I go?”
“Why else, right…” Bdubs echoes. His chest feels tight all of a sudden.
(‘He’s a survivor, that’s all he does.’)
Etho sighs. “What- what’re you doing, Bdubs? Why are you here?”
Bdubs’s heart jolts. “Uh- jeeze, can’t I just stop by to chat?” he demands, throwing his arms up. “Goodness sakes!”
Etho tilts his head. “Well yeah, sure, but you’re always here,” he points out. “Like, since day one you’ve just been finding reasons to come over here…”
(‘Where’s your boyfriend, Bdubs?’)
Bdubs feels his face heat up. “Oh, would you- maybe I come over to see Cleo, did- did you think of that?”
“Cleo’s not here right now,” Etho says evenly.
“Ah hah…” Bdubs rubs the back of his neck. “Well, that’s- yes, yes, okay, you’re right. So what?”
“So, if you wanna be around me so bad, why didn’t you team with me at the start?” Etho asks, taking a step forward. “Why’d you go join up with the Mounders?”
(‘The first thing I wanted to do was… well, yes, of course! Of course, team up with you, yes.’)
“Uh…” Bdubs takes a step back. “I mean, I didn’t- things happen, you know, organically, and- and I didn’t really… I had to build a- a house, upside-down house, other people started buildin’ around me while you- you ran off into the middle’a nowhere!”
(‘Etho has no loyalty to you. He’s just immediately teamed up with the next guy that’s come along.’)
“I think we both know why.” Etho starts walking forward again, forcing Bdubs to take equivalent steps back. “We’ve known each other a long time, Bdubs. We’ve got other worlds outside of these games, where we can spend time together without all the uh, the manipulation and deception and killing.”
Bdubs’s back suddenly hits a tree- he has nowhere else to go. His heartbeat pounds in his ears. “Uh, yeah? And…?”
Etho shrugs, looming over Bdubs. “But that’s just part of the game. So like, we can make all the promises we want, but uh, we both know that sometimes… things don’t end well. So maybe it’s better to keep our distance this time. That way it’ll hurt less, when it happens, and we won’t ruin what we have outside of the game.”
(‘I have a strong feeling we’re not gonna be friends at the end of this.’)
“So that’s it?” Bdubs challenges, indignation rising inside him. “Just- just avoid me, so you don’t feel bad if you turn ‘round and stab me in the back, huh?”
(‘You know I would never kill you, Bdubs.’)
Etho’s eyes flash. “You wanna know why I didn’t go to the end for you, Bdubs?” He leans in. “Cause I don’t have to prove anything to you.”
“Oh, is that a fact?” Bdubs breathes incredulously, staring back up at Etho. “You know what I think? I think you’re just scared. Not of the dragon, sure enough, but of what it’d mean t’go fight it for me.”
(‘I gave him the courage! He was scared.’)
Etho’s expression betrays nothing. “You think so, huh?”
“Yeah!” Bdubs puffs out his chest, a fierce grin spreading across his face. “Impulse didn’t care, as a matter of fact he was happy to do it!”
(‘Now, is this a happy marriage?’)
“Yeah?” Etho’s voice is dangerously soft, almost playful. “Then why aren’t you at his base right now?”
Bdubs deflates again. He should’ve known better than to try and make Etho feel threatened by his history with Impulse. They both know their connection goes deeper than that, than a single season of bound hearts and souls.
(‘Um… I want Etho.’)
“Okay, okay,” he says sheepishly, face burning, “you got me. In fact, I think Impulse- he was already planning on goin’ before I was, not even to help me out specifically.” He shakes his head. “Sheesh! I was just- is it too much to ask for a- a little attention?”
(‘Why can’t you be normal about Etho?’)
Etho hums noncommittally. He braces a forearm against the tree above Bdubs’s head, leaning in so their faces are mere inches apart. “You’ve got my attention now.”
Despite the tension, Bdubs huffs a laugh. “So much for- for keepin’ your distance, huh?” he jokes, reaching a hand up to tug Etho’s mask down.
This time, he can see Etho smile. “Well, we’re not technically playing the game right now. Session’s over.”
“Good point,” Bdubs chuckles, tilting his head up to meet Etho’s lips.
He knows this doesn’t come easy to Etho. He doesn’t have the same boldness as Bdubs when it comes to love, doesn’t throw his entire self into it with reckless abandon. He’s more cautious than that- always has been. He shelters his heart behind his aloof nature, his uninvested ‘easy-going’ attitude, and he wraps his words up in clever metaphors and the guise of amusement- lest anything he say be taken seriously as a weapon to wound him. So words aren’t always enough to convey what he really feels.
But they don’t need words for this.
Bdubs is well-versed in the dialect of Etho’s hands, the way they grip his waist to pull him closer. He’s memorized the divots that Etho’s scar has left in his lips, the way it feels against his own. He knows the slant of Etho’s jaw beneath his fingertips, the way his head tilts and shoulders bow to accommodate their difference in height. Every movement, every touch, every breath between them is part of their own unspoken language, communicating everything Etho’s left unsaid in his own unique way- and Bdubs remembers why he never should’ve doubted.
(‘He loves me. He cares. He does.’)
~*~
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lordsukunas · 1 year ago
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oh, i think you're holding the heart of mine
less than 1k words, kinda angsty kinda fluffy! i also posted this on ao3. this is specifically aimed towards black!readers btw :3
this was completely inspired by the discussion of whether or not gojo was traumatized during/after hidden inventory. spoilers, btw!
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gojo satoru is no stranger to physical affection. he is both a giver and a reciever. yuuji hugs him, megumi swats at his head or shoves him away, and nobara nudges his shoulder. they pose no threat to him — even on satoru’s worst day, he could defeat them. he can turn off his infinity for them.
he’s the strongest. there are very few things that genuinely pose a threat to him.
so why does he tense when your arms wrap around his waist from behind? why does his shoulders hunch, why does his hand fly to his chest, why does his control on his infinity almost slip?
why does he almost push you away?
the memories are vivid in his mind, almost as if he’s back at the entrance of jujutsu high again. sleep-deprived, but relieved the mission is complete. grinning and laughing with riko and suguru, right until the cold, sharpness of a blade pierces his back and then his chest.
when you feel satoru tense, you pull away, brows furrowing and a frown tugging at your lips. “satoru? hey, are you okay?”
it takes him a blink to realize that 2006 is long since over and that nothing is amiss. that you’re here, not that black-haired douche that somehow manages to be a constant in satoru’s life even after his death.
like always, satoru chuckles, low and smooth. but you can hear the strain, the lingering relief in it. “damn. caught me off guard, huh?”
his hand drops from his chest and closes the cabinet with his elbow before he turns to face you, cerulean eyes twinkling as he grins down at you. that’s forced too, and you sigh. something’s wrong, and it doesn’t take you but half a second to deduce that.
“don’t do that,” you say, and your voice is so tender, almost motherly despite how you’re kind of reprimanding him. the smallest portion of satoru’s heart thaws, and he lets the grin fall from his face. it’s now a small somber smile, the slightest curve of his pink lips. who is he to deny you what you want?
that doesn’t mean he won’t play dumb. “do what?” he asks and leans forward, burying his face in your curls. the scent of shea butter and vanilla fills his nostrils, and it’s yet another reminder that he’s here with you, that he’s safe with you.
“i’m not slow, satoru.” you cross your arms over your chest and narrow your eyes at him. you won’t drop the topic, and while your stubbornness is something satoru absolutely adores about you, he nearly wishes you were a little weaker-willed right about now.
“i know,” he whispers before his voice goes back to its typical playful perkiness. “wouldn’t be dating you if you were, baby.”
satoru’s lanky yet muscular arms wrap around your waist, hands resting on the curve of your ass, and he smirks. “you should let me use your shampoo for once, y’know. your hair smells good.”
“it’s not gonna work on your hair, dude.” his embrace is your weakness, and your body melts in his arms, along with your resolve to figure out what’s bothering him. “plus, the shampoo you use works just fine, and smells just as good,” you add, your glare becoming more playful.
“nah, it’s not the same,” satoru counters with a squeeze, and you promptly swat his hand away. which leads to him squeezing again, and somehow you two become a tangle of limbs on the floor as he tickles your sides, pale, slender fingers leaving featherlight touches on your skin, and breathless laughs and pleas falling from your gorgeous lips.
that may have distracted you, but it certainly hasn’t distracted him.
satoru hates dwelling on things for too long. it’s a waste of energy, and if it’s something he can’t fix, well, why even try? long after you’ve fallen asleep on his chest, snoring gently as the silk from your bonnet tickles his skin, he’s still thinking about why he reacted like that.
and then it dawns on him. the realization isn’t like a piano falling from the sky, but more like a feather that explodes on impact.
you’re a threat.
not in the conventional way. of course, even in a fight without cursed energy, you’d be on the ground in a blink. however…
if you suddenly plunged a blade into his neck, satoru would hesitate. it could be for a millisecond or two whole seconds, but he’d hesitate. hesitation is a dangerous thing. a second of indecision could cost someone’s life, could cost them everything they ever had and will have. he knows this — he’s experienced this first-hand. it’ll always lead to problems.
despite that, he’d still hesitate. he might just let you kill him, honestly, if it means he doesn’t have to lay a hand on you.
you’re precious to him. so very, very precious. more valuable than the six-eyes, more valuable than his infinity, more valuable than his reversed curse technique. it’s what makes him the strongest, what makes him him. but does being the strongest even matter if you’re not around for him to protect?
“ah.” a soft exhale, and in the darkness of the bedroom, satoru’s lips curve into a grin.
that’s why.
you could betray him, and he’d still love you. you could rip his heart from his chest, run it over with a semi-truck, bash it with a sledgehammer, and chop it up into twenty pieces, and he’d love you with everything else he has.
satoru will never, ever stop loving you, even if the consequence for doing so is death.
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