#i have faith she'll be fine but

[dazaistabletop]

My actual live reaction to bsd chapter 110:

[kragehund-est]

the overuse of validity wording and caveats by intelligent, well-spoken women has got to stop. to make that happen, we need to build up these women's confidence and challenge the culture of bad faith interpretations and kneejerk reactions.

one of my favorite youtubers for example, she'll get on a topic where she's concisely and bluntly giving her analyses on complex subjects. she's obviously done her reading and thought it through, and then she trips at the end to tack on a string of caveats "...if that makes any sense! but that might just be me, if you disagree and that works for you, that's fine too!" it destroys her flow and lessens the impact of her analysis, and every single time you can see her struggle to regain her footing afterwards.

it makes me want to grab her by the shoulders and beg her to grow a spine. if there are men with podcasts claiming as fact that disproven wolf hierarchy theory applies to human society, then you can speak with confidence on your topic that you actually have a degree on. but i understand why she does this because i've seen people jump all over her analyses and even her character with the stupidest, most poorly constructed, bad faith attacks possible.

informed intelligent women should not need mandatory pre-emptive disclaimers to cater to the uninformed, unintelligent, and angry.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

if gods exist, they made you perfect

cw. fem!reader, childhood friend au, ace novel spoilers (1st novel), pre-relationship, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, light mentions of child abuse (garp), brief loss in ace's ability to control his powers, reader receives a minor burn

pairing. portgas d. ace x black!fem!reader

synopsis. not everyone is going to reach for ace's hand but you always will.

notes. a very indulgent idea that has been living rent free in my head since i've had it and now it is your problem. cover comes from frederic edwin church's twilight in the wilderness (1860). blazing red skies and ace simply go hand in hand.

"The Five Elders are gonna have the biggest bitch fit to ever fit," with how Ace blinks up at you in surprise, he must have been really lost in his thoughts. You broaden your smile as you plop down right next to him. "I don't think anyone's ever turned down a Warlord position before. Can't wait to see how your bounty goes up this time."

Ace snorts lightly at your words, lips stretching into half a grin, "yeah, they are not going to like that."

"It definitely doesn't help you kicked that vice admiral's ass, either," you recall the events of your final moments in Sabaody. A definitive mixed bag of.

It was a beautiful country, that much is easy to say. Still it came with more than you were prepared to witness. It's only luck there hadn't happened to be any visiting Celestial Dragons coinciding with your temporary residency. Somehow you have the feeling that things would have surely been messier if their had been.

The stint with Vice Admiral Draw will be messy enough on its own.

"Garp's gonna be so mad when he finds out," Ace shudders at even your mention of his grandfather and you snicker. "What if he comes to Fishman Island for one of his grand lectures?"

"Don't even joke like that," the back of his orange hat thumps against the side of the Spadille with his groan of horror. "I can feel his Fists of Love right now."

You feel the phantom pain yourself. If you're both lucky, the semi-retired marine is busy visiting Luffy on Dawn Island. Maybe it's not that lucky though. It isn't the first time the thought the man is even harsher on Luffy now that Ace has gone ahead and sworn his life to piracy surfaces. It's a thought you push away as quickly as you have it.

Luffy's a strong kid, he's fine.

He has a spirit that is unbreakable.

"That Draw guy deserved to get his ass beat anyway." There is no disagreement to be had with your statement, Ace murmuring something similar. He's a million miles away from where you are, however, miraculously sat on a ship sailing beneath the waves. "Isuka'll be fine," you say suddenly, cursing your inability to ease into the topic gently. "She's strong and she was on our ass since immediately after we got to the Grand Line. She'll be back to chasing us soon enough."

Hopefully.

It isn't something you can say with resolute faith.

The ensign's sense of reality itself had been shattered in its entirety. Being betrayed by the one you believed to be your savior is nothing easy to overcome. You choose to believe a woman as impassioned as the naval officer will. You won't pretend to know where she'll head next.

Perhaps she'll embark on a path that leads her back to the marines. Or maybe she'll become a bounty hunter.

Wherever her journey takes her, you can only hope it is a path with no regrets.

"It would have been weird having a bounty hunter on the ship, anyway," you clumsily attempt to soothe your friend. There is irony in how Ace became your better in terms of comforting those around you when he had been the most argumentative and unfriendly between you. "That sounds like something Luffy would do."

At the sound of Luffy's name, Ace's lips do quirk into something more real. "Yeah, that kid would invite just about anyone on his crew, bounty hunters included."

You chuckle trying to visualize what the young boy's recruitment process will be. Somehow, you doubt his prospective crewmates will have much say in the matter. "Knowing Luffy, they'll probably want to join anyway though. He's convincing like that."

"Yeah," Ace only falls deeper into his thoughts. The silence that follows is even more glum than the depths. Damn it, you curse yourself.

You've never been like Makino, you recall the kind-hearted woman from your youth. She's always been gentle, dove-like in her approach when it came to matters of the heart. Knew exactly the words someone needed to hear and knew exactly how to say it in a way that didn't feel intrusive to the recipient.

That has certainly never been you. If anything, you're more akin to Dadan and her rough expressions of affection.

You hold back a sigh, closing your eyes.

"Alright, I guess this is how we're doing this," you open your eyes at last. Shuffling, you face your friend who makes a sound of surprise at your movement. You aren't a delicate person nor are you someone with the ability to handle matters of the heart with the delicacy it deserves. It's best to handle it clumsily, the only way you know how. "Ace, the stuff with Isuka; that wasn't your fault. And it isn't on you that she didn't want to come with us."

Isuka liked Ace.

It's impossible not to like him.

Even when he was a brat with more anger at the world than he knew what to do with, you liked him. Thought he was the coolest person you'd ever met in your short 10 years of living and wanted him to like you back. You like him even now.

Everyone in the crew joined because they liked Ace the moment they met him. He's darling in how effortless he makes it.

Even a marine as firm in her beliefs as Isuka couldn't let prejudice cloud her judgement when it came to Portgas D. Ace. Begrudging as it may have been, there has always been a mutual admiration for each other in spite of the opposing occupations.

You're like the sun. Equal parts the harsh rays of summer and the gentle beams of early spring. He's whichever the moment calls for. A warmth everyone wants to experience if they're lucky enough to come across it. The gravitational pull of the universe that keeps the planets in the sun's orbit. You're amazing!

"I don't know what the hell that girl needs," rough as the sentence is, your voice is soft. "But whatever it is, she wasn't going to find it with us. That's why she didn't come."

Ace opens his mouth but you don't give him the chance to argue or sweep your concerns away.

"I'm not gonna sit here and lie to your face and say that this won't happen again," it's an ugly truth. One Ace became aware of long before you met him. Regardless, as much as you hate it, you know it'd be unfair to lie to him. "Because it probably will. There's always going to be people who, no matter how hard you reach for them, they aren't going to reach back. And you can't do jack about it.

Hell, sometimes you can't even do jill. But," Ace's brow furrows in time with your words and your heart wrenches. "But," you start once more, the back of your fingers brushing against his wrist. "for every person that won't, there's going to be someone that does." You cup one of Ace's hands in both of yours with all the care one would give glass.

When did these hands get so much bigger than your own?

Still, you lips curl upwards in your nostalgia, the warmth that radiates from him remains the same. You squeeze gently, almost afraid that if you touch him too hard, he'll break.

"And I know for a fact there are a lot of people who are always going to want to hold your hands. Even if the shit does turn into fire," you chuckle at your quick addendum and despite himself, Ace does too. You've always loved hearing him laugh, it's even better when you're the cause. "The crew. Dadan. Magra. Dogra. Luffy," you squeeze again, your thumb carressing the back of his hand. "Me. We love these hands, they're yours."

There's a spark of something in Ace's eyes you can't quite place and it's unexpectedly hard to look him in the eye for some reason. "Heh," you laugh breathlessly. Without meaning to, your grip tightens around his hand. It's warm.

Really warm.

Shit, it's actually getting kinda hot ain't it?

You see the flicker of orange and your and Ace's expressions are well-matched in panic as you realize the source. Sure enough, your hands were engulfed flames.

"Shit-" Ace swears but despite instinct dictating you back away from the flames, you find yourself holding on to staunchly.

"Shit-" you fight against Ace's attempt to pull away from you as the flames die down. "[First]! Let go!"

"No way, what did I just say?!" Oh god this hurts like hell! "I don't care if it's fire, I'm not letting go!"

You hiss through your teeth, reeling yourself in with a breath but the flames are extinguished as quickly as they erupted. "Wasn't exactly expecting to prove my point so fast but," there's another attempt on Ace's part to pull away from you again but you only hold his hand tighter. You can ignore the sting of your hands but you can't ignore the way Ace's eyebrows knit together. You can't ignore how he looks like he wants to cry either. "See," you laugh breathlessly. "I love these hands, there's no way I'm never gonna hold them.

Dark eyes, wide, look between you and your face and you squeeze his hand again. The sting of your palms is prevalent but this pain is fine. Pain is merely proof that you are alive in this moment; and in this moment there is nowhere else you want to be.

There's nothing more that needs to be said between you, you believe. Facing him, you lean against the wood as you hold Ace's hand firmly between your own. With the hand he has available, Ace slides his hat down to hide whatever expression he's making.

You close your eyes with a sigh and pretend you don't hear the sound of hiccuping. You don't feel the way his hand trembles either.

You squeeze Ace's hand and he squeezes back.

Your hands sting something sweet.

[catras-breakup-song]

yeah sure, i'll tell you something that repeatedly pisses me off to no end:

images shamelessly stolen from here

when catra haters say this type of dialogue is a good example of her "abuse"

it's lighthearted affection, playful bantering! many friends bully each other this way all the time for the laughs; i know i always have and nobody minded!

some people may not like it, and that's fine, you don't have to! but your opinion does not change how the characters canonically feel about it. if adora happily takes it without strife and understands the intention in the moment, then there is no issue. you could argue that she calls herself an idiot the episode after she rescues catra from prime's ship, but i genuinely believe that's just a result of her being too harsh toward herself all the time anyway without any influence from catra. even when she didn't have to worry about her as an enemy throughout her average days in bright moon, she still kept that weight burdened on her shoulders regardless.

such an example of the criticism i'm referring to is someone complaining in this reddit post, albeit not necessarily from an anti since they seem to simply not understand and therefore disapprove based on their own personal feelings about the situation among the replies. there's also this comment, which adds some objective truth to catra's partial-insult.

as another individual pointed out, throughout the first seasons it came from more of a "duh! how do you not get it?" condescending attitude (think of adora's final revelation in 01x02 that the horde was evil while catra had known her whole life, and later on in 03x03 when catra points out how silly it sounds to admit you'd listen blindly to anything an old hologram has to say ─ even if it did happen to be correct), but i also added that when it comes to season five it originates more from a place of concern, hence upholding her half of the promise for the two of them to look out for each other at all times. if adora lacks so much awareness, she'll constantly end up in dangerous situations, and that's exactly what eventually ended up happening when she followed shadow weaver's manipulated guidance to accept the failsafe.

it drains so much energy from me to give this bad-faith argument any attention so hopefully i'll only have to do it this once. it's not worth getting frustrated over so don't waste your time trying to convince reactionaries that this trait of all things is what makes her such a terrible person.

[strqyr]

this is ruby's happy memory, the first one she thinks of. tai looks happy, yang especially looks happy—there's nothing "off" about them, which stands out because it's a drawing. it would have been so very easy to give tai dark circles under his eyes, a beard that hasn't been trimmed in a while, a hair longer and more unkempt than it normally is, as all this takes place after summer's disappearance.

but they didn't. he looks fine, no different from the team photo to the present day.

the only thing that stands out are the sunflowers he so takes care of. they look overgrown, less flowers than there will be, no neat flower bed raised from the ground to separate them from the rest of the lawn, yet not completely untended, for none of them are wilting.

manages well enough that he takes care of himself and his kids, goes to work to provide for his family, but his hobbies are left behind. prioritizing what is important, and managing the rest when he has the time and energy to do so, perhaps; and then, a sign of his healing when he cares for them once more.

assuming that is, that gardening was always tai's thing; it could have been summer's that he eventually picked up. the last rose of summer is about roses, yes, but it speaks of a garden, too, of the last rose whose leaves the speaker scatters over the bed where its brethren already lies, scentless and dead.

but sunflowers symbolize faith and devotion, positivity and hope. summer promised tai she'd be back soon, and the song treasure of the willingness to wait for a lifetime of their loved ones return... and so tai takes care of the sunflowers that may have been summer's once, to keep that hope alive, the faith he had in her when he replied to her promise with "i know."

he could have let them die like the roses, the memory and grief too powerful to even consider otherwise... but to do so would mean accepting, on some deeper level, that summer is gone, that she'll never come back to tend to her garden again.

and he's just too damn devoted to allow that.

[jelzorz]

189.

They start piling bodies up the morning after the attack.

It's grim work. Opeli has given rites to soldiers and civilians alike, but never at the same time, and never so many at once. She knows most of these faces by name. She remembers when she last spoke to them, knew their smiles and the sounds of their voices, knows the family that will mourn them long after the blessings are spoken and their bodies are burned, and when she bows her head and prays for their peace in the next life, she hides her sorrow and her tears under the sanctuary of her hood and wonders how she's supposed to do it again, and again, and again.

But she does it. Her throat aches by the late morning, her eyes rimmed with red from tears she won't let herself cry. That one was the blacksmith's apprentice. May the Lady of Light guide you through the darkness. That one was a stable hand. May Lady Mercy bring you rest in your slumber. This one was one of her novices, seventeen and barely minted, her service never even begun. May Justice grant you peace in the next life. Go in grace.

Opeli swallows a sob as she presses their eyes closed and pulls makeshift shrouds over each their faces, wondering what these people did that Justice would allow them to die so callously. She has never doubted the Five Sisters, but bodies keep appearing in the rubble and her faith wavers a little more with every set of rites that leaves her lips.

"How're you holding up?"

Opeli's breath rushes in. Soren kneels down beside her, and too late, she realises that she is still kneeling over Eugenie's shroud, the singed banner barely long enough to cover her from head to toe, her novice's robes visible through the tears in the fabric.

"You need a break."

"I'm fine," mutters Opeli, closing her fingers into fists to hide the trembling of her hands. "Is there another one?"

"No," lies Soren, and Opeli knows it's a lie because the line of bodies in the square is only growing longer by the minute. How many has she done now? How many prayers has she whispered? She lost count after the first ten, and the sun has barely even reached its zenith. "You need a break."

Opeli scowls at him, at the wariness in his eyes and the way his forehead is bleeding again beneath the bandages she'd placed there only last night. "So do you," she snaps. "You can't expect me to take one when you and the other soldiers won't either. I have a job to do."

"Take one with me then," says Soren. "I'll stop for a bit of you do. Deal?"

Opeli stares at him. "I—"

"Deal?"

She glances back down at Eugenie's unmoving body and almost breaks, her heart in pieces between her ribs.

"Come on," says Soren, and wordlessly, she lets him tug her up by the hand and away from the line bodies to the water station by ruined gates. For the first time in hours, Opeli's breathing eases, even if the ache in her chest is persistent and won't let up. The water tastes fresh and clean, her parched throat grateful for some relief even though she knows she'll be at it again in less than an hour.

"Are you okay?"

Opeli snorts grimly into her canteen. "No," she mutters. "Not after—" Eugenie's soot-stained face flashes in her mind and Opeli shuts her eyes and takes another drink, wishing it was something stronger. "I'll be fine." She takes a breath then and glances at him, noting, for the first time, the frown on his lips and the dullness of his eyes. "Are you?"

Soren doesn't answer. Not right away. Then he takes a breath. "They found him," he says. "In the rubble. His—his heart was all burned up."

Opeli's breath hitches. Her own grief suddenly seems so pale in comparison. At least she can grieve Eugenie without complication. Soren has been struggling with grieving the idea of his father for years, and now...

"I'm sorry," she murmurs. It's all she knows how to say.

"Don't be," says Soren hoarsely. "I... wanted to ask a favour actually. I know your morning's been just as shit as ours but—" He swallows. "Will you give him his rites?"

Opeli blinks at him. She hadn't even thought about it, to be honest. It was just the next body, and the next, and the next after that, but of course Viren's body is here too, of course they'd find it eventually, but she hadn't imagined she'd have to because war criminals typically do not receive them. They are buried without ceremony, undeserving of guidance and peace in the afterlife, and Viren, of all people, certainly does not deserve such a kindess, and yet...

"I think it's for me, more than it is for him," mumbles Soren. "He was my dad, y'know? He wasn't a good one but... I think maybe being able to say goodbye properly might help me put it all in the past. Does that make sense?"

Opeli studies him. How much he has grown. How good he has become. He is kinder than her now, it seems, because she would have left Viren for dead and would not have bothered with his rites at all. "Yes," she says after a moment. "It makes perfect sense."

"Will you do it?"

Opeli twitches her lips, tired and saddened as she is. Soren has a bigger heart than he will ever know, and because it's him, because he asks and he is her friend, because she knows what he's been through and how much he has had to unlearn, she nods. "Yes," she says. "Of course."

They save Viren's rites for last that day, so it's just the two of them and there are no others to watch. Soren sets the body on one of the makeshift pyres and Opeli lights it, her prayers whispered in the summer wind.

"May the Lady of Light guide you through the darkness. May Lady Mercy grant you rest in your slumber. May Justice grant you peace in the next life."

Soren's hand finds hers. Opeli holds it tight as the fire burns against the darkening sky.

"Go in grace," she says.

Soren swallows. Nods. His fingers tighten just a little around hers. "Go in grace."

[janeyseymour]

Tough Philly Girl- pt 2

Summary: Melissa has always been tough. Why? She'll tell you.

Part 1

WC: ~2.2k

“Well,” you sigh as Melissa stares at her feet now that she’s in the hotel room. You’ve since given her a towel to dry off, and she’s sitting across from you at the desk while you sit on your bed. It’s been five minutes since either of you have said anything. “I’m waiting.”

“I know, I know,” she grumbles. “I’m just… nervous.”

“For what?”

“My vulnerability,” she admits quietly. “That I’m going to tell you all of this, and you’ll still leave.”

“Have some faith in me, Schemmenti,” you roll your eyes. “Or don’t. I don’t really care anymore. This better be good.”

“It all started when… when I was little,” she starts.

—

Melissa was four years old. Four years old when this all started. Kristen Marie had just been born, and Melissa Ann was no longer the baby of the family. Her parents were always exhausted and preoccupied with the baby, and all the little redhead wanted was her father to play tea party with her like he usually did.

“Not now, Melissa,” he would say as he cracked open a beer. Being a persistent little girl, she continued to ask. “I said, not now,” he would grit through his teeth.

Melissa shriveled away, tears blooming in her eyes as she made her way to her bedroom. Her father came into her room a few minutes later to chastise her for crying.

“You’re not a baby anymore, and big four year olds don’t cry,” he huffed. That only made her cry harder.

Melissa was used to being the center of attention in her family when it came to gatherings at Nonna’s house. But now nobody gave her a second glance as they all gathered around her mother to fawn over Kristen Marie. 

“Nonna!” the little redhead squeaked, trying to get her grandmother’s attention. She couldn’t get it though, and she immediately burst into tears- despite her willing herself not to cry. She couldn’t help it. Her small body held a lot of big emotions. She stormed off into the other room, grumbling as she went, and before she could stop herself, she threw her doll. It hit the wall with a loud thud before crashing down to the floor.

“Stupid Kristen Marie,” she muttered to herself. She heard footsteps approach, and it was Nonna. The warm loving eyes that were usually looking at her granddaughter were filled with fire though.

“Melissa Ann Schemmenti,” her grandmother barked, and the redhead immediately knew she was in trouble. After quite a stern talking to from Nonna, and a few punishments, Melissa knew her place- she was no longer the baby of the family. She was a big girl now- and big girls don’t cry. 

From that day on, Melissa knew to put her walls up and knew not to shed tears around her family, even with all of the drama. And as she got older, she would only realize that her family held way more drama than she could ever imagine. 

—

At five, Melissa was diagnosed with dyslexia. Her reading skills were never quite up to where her peers were, and she realized the words and letters moved around on the page to the point that she couldn’t make sense of anything. Letters were upside down, they were backwards, they were all over. Her eyesight was tested, but she could see just fine. When they did the different benchmark tests, her score in knowing the sounds for each letter was perfect, but she could hardly identify the looks of the letters. So they had her tested for dyslexia.

She overheard her father and mother talking one night.

“Stupid kid,” her dad grumbled.

“She isn’t stupid,” her mother argued. “She’s just challenged, and she’ll need to hunker down to be like the rest of her peers.

“That shit won’t work,” he groaned. “We’ve just got a dumb kid on our hands. Hopefully Kristen Marie will be the smart one in the family.”

She should’ve been in bed, and had she, she never would’ve known what her father thought of her. But that night, she vowed to herself that she would fight to be able to read, and even excel. 

—

Growing up in an Italian family when you were expected to be a small, stick thin girl (even at a young age) was tough. Nonna fed everybody like it was her job, and Mom made sure her girls ate hearty servings of everything. Melissa kept the weight, while it didn’t matter how much food Kristen Marie was given- she never gained a pound. She was a stick, even at the young age of four.

The redhead was eight when she wanted to join dance classes. Of course. Kristen Marie also wanted to do dance because, “If Melly is, I wanna too!”

So, Mom signed both girls up for dance lessons, despite Dad saying that it was a waste of time and money. The girls went down to the thrift store to find some used dance attire, and then they headed for local dance studio that their own mother went to.

Upon entering, Melissa couldn’t be more excited. She was practically bouncing on her toes with excitement as she walked through thee front door to the studio. That was the first and only time she would enter that place with a grin.

“The little one can dance,” the Russian woman looked over Kristen Marie. She then glanced at the redhead with a look of distain. “She cannot. She is too big.”

“But you have classes for eight year olds,” Mom pointed out.

“She is too big,” the teacher stressed again. Now Mom understood. She gave Melissa a shrug. The redhead acted like she couldn’t care less despite that fact that her chest was aching and her heart was breaking inside of her little body. Her mother marched the older sister out, but left Kristen Marie to attend the lesson. Her younger sister quit two weeks later. 

—

At nine, Melissa’s parents got divorced. She took it hard. But big girls don’t cry. So she didn’t mourn her parents’ marriage ending. And with the divorce went the house. That meant moving into two different apartment complexes and being shuffled from one place to the other every other week.

Her parents weren’t home as often, and she rarely saw either of them. She was forced to take care of Kristen Marie more and more often. Her comfort food was bread and butter with cinnamon.

—

At ten, she realized if she didn’t learn how to cook, she and Kristen Marie would starve- or survive off of bread, butter, and cinnamon. So Melissa taught herself how to cook. It was easy, in all actuality. The redhead had watched Nonna cook for the longest time. Quickly, Melissa and Kristen Marie were eating well again- so long as Mom and Dad were stocking up on food. She would make sure the two of them were fed properly- and thus began her love of cooking.

—

When Melissa was fifteen, she started dating. The boys in her school had started to take notice to the fact that she had quite a body for a young thing. Repeatedly, she would be pressured into various activities that she did not particularly want to partake in. She never let it get to her though. She allowed herself to be used, abused- she saw Mom handle it, so she could too. She was a Schemmenti after all. 

With one particular boyfriend, he would constantly point out all of her quirks- things she didn’t even realize she did until he pointed it out.

“Jesus, Mel,” the teen rolled his eyes.

“What?” she asked.

“Can you stop doing that?”

“Doing what?” she glared at him.

“That.” He pointed to the way that her knee was bouncing incessantly, and she was playing with the fraying ends of her denim jacket.

“I’m not doing anything,” she sighs.

“All I’m trying to do is hold you, but you can’t keep your damned body still!”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. It took everything in her to stay still for the rest of the night. She fought every instinct in her body, every itchy feeling, to sit still 

(You don’t mind that she can never sit still. Usually, you’re bouncing right along next to her and are playing with her hands so the two of you can focus together. If that doesn’t work, the two of you go for a walk.)

The redhead was telling a story, but she lost track of where she had started off and was now off on a tangent about god knows what.

“Can you make your point already?”

“I’m getting there!” She scrunches her nose while she tries to figure out what made her start talking about cooking pasta the right way in the first place (it was the idea of feminism).

(You love when she does this. She gets so passionate about everything that she’s talking about, and it makes you grin when she finally figures out where her story was headed in the first place.)

“Why do you constantly mumble to yourself?” he rolled his eyes once again at her.

“What?” she breathed as she made dinner for herself, her boyfriend, and her younger sister that night. She mutters a few things under her breath as she stirs the contents in the sauce pan.

“Like that!”

“I-” Her face turned a bright shade of red. “I don’t know. I just- have to get my thoughts out, and sometimes it helps if I say what I’m doing so I stay focused.”

“You’re so weird.”

(You don’t mind when she does any of this. You know it helps her stay on task, and her voice mesmerizes you anyway, so the more you get to hear it, the better.)

For the rest of that relationship, she fought to hold back those little stims.

Two months later, she would be tested for ADHD and come back positive. 

—

Melissa and Joe had married when she was young. It was foolish love, but it was love nonetheless. About a year in, they began to have issues. 

She suggested couples counseling because she was going to fight for this marriage- leave it to Melissa to always fight the fight. 

Joe flat out refused. He came clean and told her that he was sleeping with Jolene, and that he was in love with Jolene. 

Melissa had the divorce papers the next day. She also had a good amount of gasoline.

Barbara was there to pick up the pieces- to convince the redhead to continue on with life and to be the badass woman that Melissa Schemmenti was- is. 

—

Nonna got sick. And Kristen Marie ran.

“It’s too hard for me to see her like that, Melissa!” her younger sister had yelled at her before turning on her heel and leaving.

So Melissa stayed. She took care of Nonna until her last days. She stayed right there with her family.

And then at the funeral, her sister showed up with a dish that would quite literally end up in flames. Melissa fought that fight. Kristen Marie had gone too far. First, leaving when it got too hard- not very Schemmenti-like if you asked the redhead. And then she had the audacity to show up at the funeral with her beloved Nonna’s signature dish- and it was wrong. 

She wouldn’t speak to her sister again until their paths crossed through the schools. And even then, she fought that pretty hard. And then, when they had to… the Schemmenti sisters would join forces again and fight the fight together.

—

Gary was a joke. But she still fought that fight. She lost.

—

And then you came around. You shook up her whole world and changed her life. She fought herself and her feelings for you for about six months before you finally said something to her. She fought the different stims that had slowly made their way back into her life- convinced that you would leave her or think she was weird for always having to bounce her leg, never being able to sit still.

Slowly, with a lot of reassurance from you, you told her to stop fighting it all. Stop fighting against herself and the things that made her who she was. So she did, and the two of you fell absolutely head over heels in love.

—

“And now you’re trying to leave me,” Melissa whispers. “And I don’t want that. So, I’m fighting for you. I don’t want you to be the one that got away.”

You stare at her for quite some time. It makes sense why she was always so guarded now. Her life was tough, from the start. You had no idea.

“Mel,” you sigh softly.

“Please,” her voice cracks just slightly, and she has tears welled up in her eyes. “Please let me fight for you. This is one fight I actually want.”

This is the most emotion you’ve ever seen from your girlfriend, and you honestly hate seeing it. It’s shattering your heart in your chest.

You stand from your bed and make your way over to the chair she’s sitting in before wrapping your arms around her gently.

The dam breaks, and your girlfriend softly weeps into your chest. “Please don’t go. Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise her gently. “I’m fighting for you, my tough Philly girl.”

[in-fair-verona-we-set-our-scene]

The more I think about it, the more... not exactly sympathetic, but more understanding of the Narrator's frustrations because He is operating under an insane set of restrictions to convince us to slay the Princess without making her enough of a threat that she can fight back. He's not even trying to thread the incredibly tiny needle Himself, He has to guide you into doing it without you even realizing it.

Like, the core problem is that the Player Character's belief (and the Princess's) literally shape reality. To demonstrate how great a change even a small shift in perspective can cause by your own actions alone, taking the knife or not taking the knife results in the Princess having a different personality and skillset from the moment you enter the basement. Taking the knife implies she's a potential threat and even before she sees that you have the knife, she speaks far more threateningly. If you talk rather than killing her right away, which further reinforces all the ways she's a potential threat (she's aloof, somewhat cynical, intelligent, well-spoken, and outright threatens you at one point), there's no way to kill her and also survive. And if you let her kill you after freeing her and the Narrator hijacks your body, she shows herself to be skilled with the blade and unflinching in putting you down.

But if you go down without the knife (signalling you don't see her as a threat, not even a potential one) she's much sweeter when calling to you on the stairs. She sounds harmless, scared, but a little hopeful. And when she kills you after you free her, she doesn't know how to use the knife effectively at all. She kills you while crying and stabbing randomly. She both doesn't want to kill you and is incapable of being an actual threat. You have to hold still and let her kill you.

Unless, of course, you try to kill her anyway, which means she's now fully capable of beating you to death with her bare hands, likely because trying to kill her implies another shift in view (probably due to seeing her try to gnaw off her own arm). She is a potential threat now, and of course attacking someone comes with concerns about them trying to defend themselves--how capable are they of fighting back? And of course she'd fight back, who wouldn't? All the Princesses fight back when attacked except for the Damsel because by that Chapter the idea that she A. can't, and B. wouldn't, is locked in by her inability to put you down efficiently the last loop and the Smitten's unfailing faith in her.

So as early as Chapter 1, from the moment you enter the cabin and even during your interaction with her, your thoughts and beliefs are shaping reality and that ability is incredibly volatile.

And that's part of the Narrator's problem! The Princess needs to be helpless so she can't hurt you or defend herself but in that case, what justification do you have to kill her? So she has to be enough of a threat in the future to justify killing her, but not at the moment, and killing anyone comes with concerns about them fighting back. The Narrator has to walk a very fine line here because even thinking it's possible she might have the ability to fight back or kill you means she absolutely can, but you also have to believe that she could possibly be a big enough threat that you simply can't risk leaving her alive.

So the Narrator has to go "Okay. There is a Princess. She is harmless. She cannot hurt you or escape right now and you have to kill her. Why? Because she will be a great threat in the future. Not right now, she's perfectly harmless right now, but you have to kill her. No, no, you can't talk to her and ask questions because she'll trick you into not killing her. What kind of threat? The world-ending kind so even if you doubt me you can't risk it, there's too much on the line if there's even the smallest chance I'm correct and you must do it right now. How is she capable of ending the world? Don't think about it, please please don't think about it."

(I also think that's probably part of why the Narrator made her a princess of all things. The stereotype around a princess locked away is that they're fairly helpless in a fight, simply waiting for someone to come save them, but also you could justify killing her because she's an oppressive monarch, in title at least. And, indeed, that is a perspective the Narrator pushes and one you can agree with. Not to mention all the story tropes where royalty or a maiden of some kind is infused with a special connection to the world or god--a Princess who can end the world just by the nature of her being is not far removed from those tropes)

I mean, trying to get someone to kill another person without thinking them as an immediate threat or questioning anything too deeply is a monumental task. And everything from the ethical questions you might ask to risk assessment all have the potential to make the Princess quite a threat. No wonder it goes wrong so fast.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

Katara crushing on Jet:

Immediately trusts him and is excited to see his hideout

Immediately attracted to the fact that he's a heroic do-gooder who stands up for the oppressed and takes care of others

Blushes and hugs him, clearly showing her interest

Trusts him implicitly and passionately defends him against Sokka's accusations, is extremely protective of Jet.

Katara crushing on Aang:

Is ready to leave her tribe and join Aang in the first fucking episode: "Fine! Then I'm banished, too! [Drags Aang away.] Come on Aang, let's go." immediately trusting him

Defends Aang in the Storm: "Aang is the bravest person I know. He's done nothing but help people and save lives since I met him!" ; demonstrating that she thinks he's a hero

Shyly asks Aang to kiss her in the Cave of 2 Lovers, initiates hugs 7 times in the show, kisses him on the cheek three times, blushes countless times.

Tells Aang she'll 100% trust whatever decision he makes when Zuko asks to join the group, even though she is clearly unhappy.

Tells Zuko: "You make one step backward, one slip-up, give me one reason to think you might hurt Aang, and you won't have to worry about your destiny anymore; because I'll make sure your destiny ends, right then and there, permanently.” , showing how protective she is.

Tells Aang after he disappears:  Plese don't go, Aang. The world can't afford to lose you to the Fire Nation. And neither can I."

Tells Zuko in the finale: "Aang won't lose. He's gonna come back." ; showing 100% confidence and faith

Zutarians: Katara treats Aang like a little brother! There was no build-up! She clearly never liked him! It was forced! She was just a prize! Aang was entitled and possessive and Katara never reciprocated! She marries Aang out of duty but she actually longs for Zuko!

....do Zutarians understand characterisation? Do they have basic media literacy skills? HOW MUCH CLEARER DOES KATARA HAVE TO BE?

Oh, but Aang isn't angsty and angry like Jet, but Zuko is! Nevermind that said angst was not part of why Katara was attracted to him, and Jet's disproportionate responses when angry made Katara stop liking him.

[comfied-chriterature]

HOLY FREAKITY FREAK I HAVE OS MUCH TO SAY ABOUT HTIS MV I'M LITERALLY REELING I'M SPEWING BLDOD FOAMING AT THE MOUTH how are you gonna call this song "FUN!!" and then absolutely decimate me with this mv /pos NEED to YAP like mmj as princesses trapped in the towers of their past and Minori being their shonen protag knight in shining armor AND THE ENDING??? I wanted to cry (descend with me ↓)

I've been saying this since the beginning but Minori in the MMJ story has such shonen protagonist energy like the type that's naive and optimistic, sunshine-esque, a ray of light for everyone else, listens to their sob stories without even knowing them and then pulls their hand telling them not to give up, can befriend even their enemies, somehow makes everyone fall in love with them, so on

This MV??? This just proves it. MINORI is so freaking cute with her comically large key running around unlocking the hearts of the other girls (gay ah btw) and she's fully set from the beginning on saving these idols. She doesn't need to completely understand them but she just knows she doesn't want them to give up, she wants to return their hope to them. Because that's what idols do.

And the portrayals of each girl's cages... Like Shizuku is a giant, larger than life, so much so that she doesn't know what to do or what she's done to get as far as she's gotten. She's being monitored by everyone, criticized and analyzed, admired but shunned because she's such a natural at being an idol. She feels awkward and clumsy, unaware of her own power, like she could destroy everything if she so much as moves a finger wrong.

Airi is trapped in a labyrinthine cavern of crystals that surround her on all sides, reflecting every side of her. She's confused about her identity. Is she really Airi, an idol, or just Happy Lovely Everyday? Is she cut out for this? She's reaching upward as she tries to hold on to her dreams but she's too small, she doesn't fit the image of an idol, she'll never reach the level of people like Shizuku.

And Haruka is immobilized, wrapped up in branches of guilt. She's high up and attracting the attention of every eye but she can't move, just as she physically froze up whenever she stepped on stage after she hurt Mai. Her expression and her surroundings are bleak, a sad blue, because she's lost her faith as an idol. But then Minori shows up with her adorable determination and effervescent passion and love with a huge key for her heart and everything turns bright and she can smile beautifully again (OGD the expressions they give each other THEY'RE SO GAY) (ALSO it's really cute that Haruka sings "kitto kanau kara..." and then Minori repeats it, like a reassurance)

And (OH. MY. GOSH.) after Minori saves everyone (the scene with her and Airi is so funny because it's so them) you'd think it would be all fine and dandy right? But the conflicted expression she gives after???? ALDSHFALSHF I could feel her pain. acutely. Because she's thinking did she do well? Is she an idol yet? Then why is she still so plain? Why is she so far behind? The way she clutches her shirT SOBBING. But she's still smiling because it's fine, it's okay, she just has to work harder, she hasn't given up, right? And then the steps crumble from under her and she falls...

Haruka reaches out for her and comes up short. But it's not over yet, because the girls jump in after her, Airi leading the charge. She freed them, she lifted them up, she clung to her faith in them, so of course they'd do the same for her. And then they all grab hands, and Minori's tiny wings sprout into the most beautiful, fullest, strongest pair of wings (TENSHI NO KUROOBAAAAA guys I love angel's clover so much LFHALFH) and she lifts all of them into the sky.

It's juST— IT'S INCREDIBLE. IT'S ART. IT so poignantly relays the MMJ narrative in such a pretty package. AND THE END where MMJ is giving hope to Minori's younger self. WHAT THE HLAJSD /pos I CAN'T BREATHE. Anyway this is to tell you that you're not alone and it's never too late to try again and there's always always hope. I love you!! STAN MMJ

[greenqueenhightower]

ok so I saw that alicent is pregnant… and she'll give birth to Maelor or take moon tea and abort the baby…pls tell me that it’s all a bad dream :(

*Spoilers Ahead* Oh, dear anon, I wish I could tell you it’s all a bad dream 💚

I saw the leaks as soon as they came out and for days I’ve been discussing them with friends and mutuals. If it gives you any consolation, we know only that Alicent will feel her stomach in episode 4, ask the maester to prepare 🌙 ☕️ , and then drink it secretly. I’ve read all kinds of interpretations for this, but please be reminded that this is all we’ve got in terms of the leaks; the rest is speculation. Three scenarios are floating around:

a) Alicent takes the moon tea as a form of birth control. This implies that it’s not the first time she’s taken it, and it’s her regular habit to take some after she’s had sex with Criston. I think the way the scene is set up and delivered in episode 4 will determine whether Alicent has asked for moon tea before (What is her reaction? Does the maester seem to have prepared this before for her? Does he speak as if she’s asked him to make moon tea for the first time?).

b) Alicent takes moon tea as a form of abortion. The way “Alicent feeling her stomach” is interpreted is that her pregnancy is advanced (although idk how that can make sense given that Alicent and Criston have been having sex for a few weeks?) or that she fears she might be pregnant because she has failed to take moon tea this whole time and she might be experiencing the early symptoms of pregnancy like nausea, fatigue etc (which would make her pregnancy around 2-4 weeks, but certainly not at a stage when she can feel anything in terms of movement. Perhaps she’s touching her stomach out of concern and fear for what she has to do.)

c) Alicent takes the moon tea, but she stays pregnant nonetheless, and this pregnancy results in the birth of Maelor. The speculation gets wonky after that. I’ve read all kinds of things, that Alicent tries to kill herself by the lake as we see in the trailer (I’d hate that!) and even that she marries Larys to conceal the bastardy (since Criston’s vows as a white cloak are for life and they can’t get married, and if he’s found out to be the father he’ll be executed).

My overall reactions:

I would be fine with Alicent taking the moon tea as a form of birth control or abortion if the show does not melodramatize this moment or exploit it to give Alicent further reasons to resent herself and additional “sins” to atone for the whole season. Please, writers, let her move beyond that characterization and give us further insight into her psyche and a well-rounded portrayal of her character.

In case her pregnancy is advanced, taking the moon tea can be extremely dangerous (we know this because it almost killed Lysa) so I wouldn’t want to see this pain inflicted on her. We also know that there are religious qualms for those who adhere to the faith of the seven regarding moon tea (Margaery was convicted because Pycelle confessed he brewed her moon tea six times) so I wouldn’t want my girl to go on hating herself for something like that.

Most importantly, giving Alicent a bastard child and making Maelor a bastard would be character assassination for me. I’ve read that the writers might go down this lane for the Rhaenicent parallels and to further highlight the tragedy and her “hypocrisy” but it just doesn’t make sense to me. It also highly affects both Alicent’s and Maelor’s arcs in S3. Therefore, I am hesitant to believe that the writers would so deviate from canon to show us Alicent pregnant with baby Maelor. Does this mean they can’t if they want to? No, it doesn’t, but the chance, at least to me, is very slim.

I hope I’ve alleviated your fears somehow! Let us see what actually happens.

[freddie-77-ao3]

Riordanverse Characters As EPIC Lyrics

"I no longer dream, only nightmares of those who've died" is Clarisse after manhattan

"Whatever we face, we'll be fine if we're leading from the heart" is Silena in general

"No matter the place, we can light up the world" is Lee and Luke, when they're dreaming of college right before Luke betrays them

"Time... I've unlocked it, I see past and future running free" is Rachel before manhattan, she sees all sorts of visions and doesn't know what's going on, just knows that it isn't happening now

"There is a world where I help you get home, but that's not a world I know" is Leo to Jason. If only he'd made it back just a bit sooner-- maybe jason wouldn't be dead

"A man who gets to make it home alive, but it's no longer you" is drew returning to camp after manhattan, and at the start of this war she was happy and bright, and now she's unrecognizable.

"I'm the only one who's line I haven't crossed"

"What if I'm the one who killed you, every time I caved to guilt"

"What if I've been far to kind to foes but a monster to ourselves"

"Learn to be colder when she got older, and now she saves them the pain" Drew refusing to let aphrodite kids fight. if people don't remember they CAN fight, they won't make them fight. if they're kept out of the worst of the battles... well. drew will have protected them in the way she can.

"Does he throw away his remorse and save more lives with guile"

"Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves" that's a general drew and malcolm idea that connor is opposed to but can't get through to them on

"i must become the monster, and then we'll make it home" percy in house of hades (especially with ahklys)

"I have something that I must confess, something that I must get off my chest, until it is said I cannot rest" silena, trying to tell clarisse she's the spy, before she resorts to the drastic pulling a patroclus

"No, i'm not a player, I'm a puppeteer" Drew Tanaka in general. like she won't fight. she'll watch from the sidelines, manipulate people into doing things, but she doesn't want to get her hands dirty again.

"Of course I'd like to leave now, of course I'd like to run, but I can hardly sleep now, knowing everything we've done" Connor, refusing to run away with Malcolm and Drew the night before a big battle (you choose if it's manhattan, the BOO, or a trials of apollo battle)

"Wouldn't you like a taste of the power, wouldn't you like to use more than words?" some new camper trying to convince drew to fight (and then promptly getting stabbed, because drew CAN fight, she just prefers charmspeak)

"I've got people to protect... so I'm not taking chances" silena on why she chose to join luke. like yeah she was groomed but she also honestly thought it would protect those closest to her.

"i still believe in goodness, I still believe that we could be kind" connor, trying to reason with malcolm, drew, or clarisse in war counsel (about the romans specifically)

"you are reckless, sentimental at best" ares to clarisse about her fighting in manhattan (her loved ones' deaths were the things motivating her and she told kronos to fight her so)

"I know what I'm fighting for, while you're fighting to be known" malcolm to annabeth in an argument early on.

"what good would killing do, when mercy is a skill, more of this world could learn to use?" connor again, probably about the romans.

"the blood we shed, it never dries, is this what it means to be a warrior" sherman praying to his father, (he was so paralyzed by guilt after the battle of manhattan he would have nightmares about being covered in blood again and just throw up), (this is when he loses faith)

"this life is amazing when you greet it with open arms, whatever we face, we'll be fine if we're leading from the heart"

"i'd like to show my friend that kindness is brave" silena about clarisse

"Have you forgotten to turn off your heart?" clarisse to silena

bolded are chb in general

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 18)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity

Over the next week, and whilst you stayed with Cillian at his house, he found you a three-bedroom terrace right down the street from his property. 

The place was perfect - spacious rooms, high ceilings, and a modern interior design and, whilst you felt uncomfortable knowing that Cillian had spent an absorbent amount of money on this property for you to live in, you knew that it was the best decision for your unborn child.

The thought of having a home of your own was comforting and the fact that the house was already vacant put your mind at ease, meaning that you could move in right away. 

Thus, within less than a week, you moved all of your very few belongings to your very own home and Cillian worked tirelessly to assist you with your move, ensuring that your transition to the new house was seamless.

"You're making this way too easy for me," you commented lightly, watching him maneuver a particularly heavy box with ease while your best friend Emma followed suit, rolling your suitcases into the master bedroom.

"Holy shit, that's nice," she said appreciatively when she stumbled into your new bedroom, running her fingers along the plush leather headboard of the king-sized bed. "I would be more than happy to become your live-in nanny," she joked playfully, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"That's tempting," you admitted sheepishly, biting your lower lip. "But I don't want to impose on any of you for much longer, I promise," you insisted earnestly, casting your gaze downward shyly.

"Don't be silly," Emma scolded affectionately, patting your shoulder reassuringly. "You are my best friend and always will be," she smiled warmly, her eyes glistening with love while Cillian brought in yet another box, overhearing the conversation between you, and Emma who could not help but to bring up the most recent confrontation you had with your mother when you attempted to collect some of your clothes from Frank's house.

"Think about it though Y/N, since your mother has officially disowned you now, you could use all the help you can get when Mr Hot Shot here is going on press tour next year. You want to start university in a few weeks. You will have exams and work-prac coming up and an au-pair or something similar might really be an option for you," Emma told you, seeing that you were due to give birth just before next years' award season. 

"Her mother might still come around," Cillian interjected optimistically, placing the last box gently on the floor. "And even if she does not, I will be here as much as I can be to support Y/N and our daughter," Cillian told Emma comfortably and whilst Emma appreciated all the effort he was putting into this arrangement, she remained somewhat skeptical. 

"I doubt that she will be coming around" you mumbled under your breath, unable to meet either Cillian's or Emma's eyes. You too were skeptical and knew that your mother hated you for what you did to the family. "Despite, she pretty much made it clear to me that she will never consider this baby to be her grandchild, so I really do not want her around my daughter even if she was to offer," you confessed despondently, feeling the sting of rejection surge through you once more.

"She's just angry and hurt Y/N," Cillian consoled you, reaching out to squeeze your arm reassuringly. "Give her some time, maybe she'll see reason," he encouraged tentatively, hoping to restore your faith in your mother's ability to change her mind.

"Whatever Cills," you sighed heavily, a single tear trickling down your cheek. "It won't happen," you told him dejectedly, your voice breaking slightly.

"Well, if it doesn't, then it would be her loss," Cillian reassured you firmly, reaching out to brush a damp strand of hair from your forehead tenderly. "You will be just fine without her," he added, his eyes brimming with love and empathy. 

"I know will be..." you trailed off, biting your lower lip nervously. "But still, I wish she could see past her anger towards me long enough to realize that she is going miss out on the opportunity to welcome her own grandchild into the world," you confessed softly, your voice quivering slightly.

"Y/N, I suppose the fact that you are having a child with her husband's brother is a difficult notion for her to grasp though, don't you think?" Emma surmised, her eyes gleaming mischievously. "I mean, how could she possibly come to terms with the reality of your relationship?" she pondered aloud, her tone laced with caution.

"Point taken Em, but I always figured that a mother's love is unconditional," Cillian told your friend reluctantly, his gaze fixed on you intently. "But anyway, let's just focus on getting Y/N settled in here, shall we?" he suggested diplomatically before taring open some boxes, which is when you reminded him of his appointment with his lawyer and sister Siobhan.

"Mediation is at 3 o'clock, Cillian," you reminded him kindly, biting your lower lip apprehensively. "I suppose you should leave soon," you added, a hint of concern clouding your expression.

"Yeah, I know," Cillian sighed, his gaze fixated on the piles of boxes strewn across the floor. "I'll be sure to let you know how it goes afterwards and then I will be back to help you unpack," he promised, his voice laced with concern.

"I'm sure everything will be fine," you reassured him softly, reaching out to squeeze his hand affectionately, knowing that, following your testimony three days ago, Max was removed from Danielle's care, simply due to the physical aggression she had shown towards you.

Max was now staying with his grandmother in Cork until an agreement was made between Danielle and Cillian and, with Cillian being diplomatic, he had proposed a shared custody agreement which Danielle was yet to sign. 

"She will sign the shared parenting agreement. She will have no choice," you reassured Cillian gently, your voice laced with confidence.

"I hope so, because none of this is fair on Max. He is only a child and does not understand what is going on," Cillian replied, his brow furrowed deeply as he reached for his jacket.

"I promise to call you later," he informed you, kissing your forehead tenderly as he walked out the door, leaving you and Emma alone.

As Cillian drove to the law firm where he had scheduled his mediation session, anxiety pulsed through his veins as he wondered whether his ex-wife would agree to his proposal.

Danielle had been unwilling to negotiate thus far, instead insisting that he should have full custody of Max, but he hoped that his patience and diplomacy would eventually pay off.

He pulled up to the parking lot outside the building where the mediation session was held and parked his car.

As he exited his vehicle, he paused briefly, his thoughts racing with uncertainty. Would today be the day that he finally regained custody of his son? Or would Danielle continue to obstruct his efforts, forcing him to resort to legal procedures? He inhaled deeply, steadying himself before he stepped toward the entrance of the building.

Inside, the lobby was bustling with people, all busy chatting and gesturing animatedly. He spotted Siobhan sitting quietly in a corner, nursing a cup of coffee.

She raised her eyebrows curiously and gave him a small smile. "Ready?" she asked him in a low voice, setting her half-empty mug aside carefully.

"As ready as I can be," Cillian muttered under his breath, offering her a weak smile. He could sense the tension radiating from her body as she rose from her seat gracefully, smoothing out her skirt with a practiced gesture. Siobhan held out her hand to lead him upstairs, where the mediation room awaited them.

Cillian reluctantly followed her, his stomach churning uneasily. His thoughts raced frantically, filled with images of Max and memories of the times they used to spend together, laughing and playing games. The idea of losing his beloved son weighed heavily upon his shoulders, and he clung desperately to the hope that today would mark a turning point in his life.

Once inside the mediation room, they sat across from Danielle, who scrutinized them coolly. Her gaze flicked between Cillian and Siobhan, her expression unreadable. The mediator readied herself, explaining the process in a measured voice.

"Today, we gather to resolve the dispute concerning the custody of Max," she began, her gaze sweeping over the trio. "Since you've both agreed to mediation, I trust that you're willing to reach a peaceful resolution. Let's begin with a brief overview of the situation," she continued, her voice ringing with authority.

Siobhan cleared her throat, her gaze flickering nervously between her brother and Danielle.

"I believe Cillian is asking for joint custody, correct?" she asked, her voice quivering slightly.

"Correct," Siobhan confirmed, her gaze sweeping over to her brother.

"Danielle, is that acceptable to you?" the mediator then posed her question, addressing Danielle directly.

Danielle hesitated, her gaze piercing like daggers as she studied Cillian. "I suppose so," she relented, her words dripping with resentment. "But I don't want this whore of a woman he cheated with on me anywhere near my son," she spat, glaring at Cillian who had cheated on her with you.

"Please ma'am, watch your language," the mediator cautioned sternly, observing the hostility simmering in the air. "Let's focus on finding a solution here without insulting one another," she added, her tone firm and unwavering before seeking some clarification on the circumstances surrounding Danielle's comment and reading the court transcript from three days ago, which ultimately led the judge to refer this matter to mediation. 

"Preventing Y.N to be around Max will be impossible," Siobhan then reasoned calmly after the mediator got a grasp of the facts and surrounding circumstances. 

"And may I ask why?" Danielle ought to question Siobhan angrily before the mediator reiterated the question. 

"Miss Murphy, please explain to us why preventing Y/N from being around your client's son would be impossible. By what I understand, Y/N does not live with your client nor is he currently romantically involved with her," the mediator stated, her gaze resting on Siobhan expectantly.

"That is correct. However, Y/N is currently pregnant with my client's child," Siobhan answered cautiously, her gaze flickering between her brother and Danielle. "So, it would be quite difficult to completely shield Max from Y/N, who, I believe, will also co-parent her daughter with my client once she is born," she added, her voice trailing off uncertainly.

Danielle shot to her feet, her face contorting into a mask of outrage.

"Oh my god," she gasped, her voice cracking with disbelief. "This is just disgusting," she seethed, pointing an accusing finger at Cillian. "I can't believe you would stoop so low as to knock her up," she raged, her words slicing through the air like knives.

Cillian's gaze met hers, his expression grim and resolute. "Well, clearly, it wasn't intentional," he murmured hoarsely, his voice barely audible. 

"God, I would hope so. How old is she again?" Danielle sneered spitefully, directing her question at Siobhan. She didn't bother looking at Cillian; her gaze remained cold and distant.

Siobhan hesitated, but Cillian did not. "She is old enough to act more mature than you do," he retorted sharply, his gaze unwavering as he handed Danielle the pen.

"Now, would you please sign the agreement so that we can finally move on from this. Max does not deserve to suffer from this unnecessary drama anymore," Cillian spoke firmly, passing the paper over to Danielle.

Their eyes locked for a moment, filled with silent accusation and pain.

"Fine," Danielle gritted through gritted teeth, signing the document hastily before thrusting it back at Cillian. "Just remember," she warned darkly, her gaze narrowing dangerously. "I will ensure that you regret ever crossing paths with this little slut," she snarled, her voice dripping with venom. "Max will know what you did, breaking his family apart like this," she finally said and Cillian gripped the table tightly, his knuckles whitening as he struggled to contain his rage.

"Please," he pleaded, his voice shaking with suppressed anger. "Can we just put our differences aside for the sake of Max?" he implored, glancing pleadingly at the mediator, who watched the unfolding drama warily.

"He is a child, for fuck sake. He does not need to be dragged into this," Cillian argued vehemently, his grip tightening on the table.

"I think you are just afraid that he will reject you once he learns exactly what kind of man you truly are," Danielle went on to say, her gaze fixing on Cillian accusingly.

Cillian's hands balled into fists, his knuckles white with rage. He opened his mouth to respond, but his words caught in his throat as he struggled to suppress his mounting anger.

"Enough," he finally managed, his voice strained and tight. "I won't allow you to drag our son into this mess," he growled, his gaze boring into her. "We both know that he deserves better," he added, his voice thick with emotion.

Danielle stared at him, her anger and resentment simmering beneath the surface. But despite her desire to retaliate, she knew that she had pushed things far enough. With a huff, she crossed her arms defiantly.

"I think we are done here," Siobhan interjected, her gaze darting between her brother and Danielle warily. "You two need to sort out your bitter feelings towards one another. This isn't healthy for Max," she reasoned reasonably, rising from her chair deliberately.

"Cillian will pick Max up from Cork tomorrow. He will stay with him for the first four days before spending the next three days with Danielle pursuant to the parenting agreement," Siobhan explained, her gaze darting between her brother and Danielle.

"Thanks, sis," Cillian murmured gratefully, squeezing her hand reassuringly, his eyes reflecting relief that the custody battle was finally over. "At least there is some peace," he added, a hint of bitterness lingering in his voice.

"Yes," Siobhan echoed, her gaze flickering between Cillian and Danielle warily. "Now that we have finally reached an agreement, let's try to make the best of this situation and focus on Max's wellbeing," she implored, her voice trembling slightly.

Cillian nodded, his gaze locking onto Danielle's icy stare before she stood up and walked out of the room without saying a word.

He released a shaky breath, his grip loosening on the table as he felt the weight of the tension lifting from his shoulders. Siobhan squeezed his hand sympathetically, her understanding gaze speaking volumes of the turmoil he had endured during the custody battle.

"Come on," she murmured kindly, leading him outside the building. "We can celebrate the end of this hellish nightmare with a drink," she added, her voice trembling slightly.

Cillian's heart swelled with gratitude. "Thank you, Siobhan," he whispered, grasping her hand tightly.

"I honestly don't know what I would have done without you," he admitted, his voice cracking slightly.

Siobhan shook her head, her gaze filled with compassion. "No big deal, brother dear," she replied gently, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. "After all, I am your sister," she added, smiling softly. "But seriously, Cillian," she began, her voice taking on a serious tone. "What happened between you and Y/N is really fucked up," she asserted, her gaze meeting his squarely. "How could you sleep with Frank's stepdaughter?" she questioned him pointedly, her words cutting through the silence like a knife.

"I honestly don't know Siobhan. I was in a bad place at the time. My marriage was at breaking point and the thrill of the taboo and forbidden excited me," Cillian explained before trying to further justify his actions. "I know I shouldn't have done it and I don't know what lead me to pursuing her. Curiosity? Lust? Boredom? All of those, probably. I wanted to feel alive again – and she certainly helped me achieve that. The problem now? The consequences. She's carrying my child and my marriage ended, so yes. I fucked up," Cillian confessed painfully, his voice shaking slightly. "But I cannot deny that, regardless of the circumstances, I do care for Y/N," he admitted, his gaze locking onto Siobhan's sympathetic eyes. "It might not be love, but there is definitely something there," he admitted, his voice wavering slightly.

Siobhan's gaze softened, her eyes reflecting understanding. "Look, Cillian," she sighed, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on his elbow.

"I understand that you're feeling overwhelmed right now, but you need to think about what you're doing. This girl is half your age, and she shouldn't be having that child," Siobhan urged, her voice filled with concern. "The entire family is falling apart because of this," she lamented, her eyes reflecting sadness. 

"Siobhan, I honestly don't know what to tell you," Cillian responded, his grip tightening on the table. "All I know is that I want her to have this child. I want to raise my daughter with her," Cillian declared passionately, his voice echoing with determination. "And whatever obstacles stand in our way, I am sure we will overcome them," he vowed vehemently, his gaze fixated on Siobhan.

Siobhan shook her head, her eyes filled with worry. "Cillian, I don't mean to sound harsh, but you're making a huge mistake," she sighed, her voice trembling slightly. "This girl is young, naive, and vulnerable. What happens when she realizes she's made a terrible mistake?" Siobhan pressed, her voice laced with concern. "You can't deny that this whole situation is complicated beyond belief," she insisted, her gaze holding steady on Cillian.

"Look, Siobhan," Cillian murmured evenly, his voice betraying a hint of impatience. "I fully appreciate your concerns, but we slept together and we made this decision together, it's our choice," he asserted firmly, his gaze holding steady on Siobhan. 

"Okay, well, being your sister, I will support your decision, even if I think it is wrong. 

But know that you are walking on thin ice and I can warn you that things will get worse before they get better," Siobhan cautioned, her gaze darting between Cillian and the exit. "For now, let's go and grab a drink, shall we?" she suggested, her voice taking on a lighter tone.

Cillian nodded, his gaze shifting to the horizon thoughtfully. "Yeah, I could use a drink," he murmured, his voice filled with resignation and, with that, they made their way to a bar nearby. 

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter

[richincolor]

Ode to the Olympics: Books & Sports

I'm a big fan of the Olympics and have absolutely let responsibilities go in favor of watching amazing sport. And I thought, as the Olympics come to a close that I'd share some books that focus on athletes aiming to be their best all while dealing with the trials of adolescence. 

Rez Ball by Byron Graves

These days, Tre Brun is happiest when he is playing basketball on the Red Lake Reservation high school team—even though he can’t help but be constantly gut-punched with memories of his big brother, Jaxon, who died in an accident. When Jaxon's former teammates on the varsity team offer to take Tre under their wing, he sees this as his shot to represent his Ojibwe rez all the way to their first state championship. This is the first step toward his dream of playing in the NBA, no matter how much the odds are stacked against him. But stepping into his brother’s shoes as a star player means that Tre can’t mess up. Not on the court, not at school, and not with his new friend, gamer Khiana, who he is definitely not falling in love with. After decades of rez teams almost making it, Tre needs to take his team to state. Because if he can live up to Jaxon's dreams, their story isn’t over yet.

Check out this trailer for Rez Ball coming next month!

You Don't Have a Shot by Racquel Marie

Valentina “Vale” Castillo-Green’s life revolves around soccer. Her friends, her future, and her father’s intense expectations are all wrapped up in the beautiful game. But after she incites a fight during playoffs with her long-time rival, Leticia Ortiz, everything she’s been working toward seems to disappear. Embarrassed and desperate to be anywhere but home, Vale escapes to her beloved childhood soccer camp for a summer of relaxation and redemption…only to find out that she and the endlessly aggravating Leticia will be co-captaining a team that could play in front of college scouts. But the competition might be stiffer than expected, so unless they can get their rookie team’s act together, this second chance―and any hope of playing college soccer―will slip through Vale’s fingers. When the growing pressure, friendship friction, and her overbearing father push Vale to turn to Leticia for help, what starts off as a shaky alliance of necessity begins to blossom into something more through a shared love of soccer. . . and maybe each other.

Chasing Pacquiano by Rod Pulido

Self preservation. That's Bobby's motto for surviving his notoriously violent high school unscathed. Being out and queer would put an unavoidable target on his back, especially in a Filipino community that frowns on homosexuality. It's best to keep his head down, get good grades, and stay out of trouble. But when Bobby is unwillingly outed in a terrible way, he no longer has the luxury of being invisible. A vicious encounter has him scrambling for a new way to survive--by fighting back. Bobby is inspired by champion Filipino boxer Manny Pacquiao to take up boxing and challenge his tormentor. Then Pacquiao publicly declares his stance against queer people, and Bobby's faith--in his hero and in himself--is shaken to the core.

And Other Mistakes by Erika Turner

Aaliyah's home life has never been great, but she thought she'd survive her last years of high school with at least her friendships and cross-country stardom intact. That is, until junior year she got outed by a church elder and everything came undone ― including Aaliyah. Now, senior year is about to start and she is determined to come back faster and wiser. No more letting other people define her. No more losing herself to their expectations. Except... well, with new friends, old flames, nosy school counselors, and teammates who don't trust her yet, the route already feels rough. And what's with the new girl, Tessa, who gives Aaliyah butterflies every time she looks at her? Regardless, everything is fine. She'll be fine. Because this is the year to prove to everyone―and most of all, herself―that she's more than her mistakes. After all, even Aaliyah can't outrun everything.

[bestworstcase]

Salem isn't really the "evil" fairy godmother in my opinion.

I think it'd be more accurate to say that she's the fairy godmother who just gives you EXACTLY what you asked for, but the consequences of that desire are always still there good, bad and everything in between.

You want revenge for your sister? Okay, Salem'll let you beat her to death, but she's still immortal and will come back eventually.

You want to destroy your former home? Okay she'll help you do that, but it's your problem if you end up pissing off someone else and they decide to kill you because of your decisions.

Basically, she'd do exactly as the contract asks of her so long as you're handling it in good faith, but it's your job to read the fine print.

i mean

just because salem doesn’t operate like the villainous archetype she presents as (i.e. malevolently making promises she has no intention of honoring, stabbing her people in the back for no reason once they’ve "outlived their usefulness," generally having no understanding of human motivations aside from fear, etc) doesn’t mean she doesn’t actively hurt people.

she keeps her word unless the other party breaks their end of the bargain first (this is true even of lionheart; she asks him a question, waits for his answer, doesn’t turn to violence until he attacks the seer and tries to make a break for it) – and she deliberately, consistently utilizes fear and pain as tools of control. these things can coexist.

and with regard to cinder specifically, salem is in no way just sitting on her hands and allowing cinder to experience the natural consequences of getting what she asks for; she doesn’t want to keep her promise to cinder and she’s been throwing everything at a wall since v4 to see what will stick to wean cinder off wanting the other maidens – and when that fails she brings the hammer down and that’s the impetuous for the power struggle in v8. salem only budges on this because cinder demonstrates with terrifying effectiveness that she IS willing to literally die on this hill, and afterward falls over herself to praise cinder for showing a smidge of restraint in choosing not to obsessively pursue winter.

the whole multivolume conflict between cinder and salem is predicated on salem trying to wriggle out of the deal, by means that include intimidation and violence.

and like yeah she doesn’t lift a finger to spare people the natural consequences of their choices unless your name is cinder fall. but that’s. pretty secondary to the part where she hurts people if they don’t do as she says – whether physically (hazel, lionheart) or emotionally (tyrian). she is cruel. it’s evil to treat people the way salem treats her own followers. that she is, broadly, right about the gods, and correct in her condemnation of the huntsmen system as a vehicle for enacting the divine plan, does not and should not negate her abusing her associates.

that’s one of the central conceits of the story, that someone can be right and also do horrifically evil things in service of a just cause. rwby is far more unflinching in its commitment to this idea than most stories but it’s not like this is a novel concept. let’s not defang the narrative by ignoring salem’s literal on-screen actions.

like. the reason i argue that 1. salem hasn’t ever gone to war like this before and has in fact mostly not dignified ozma’s shadow war with her participation, and 2. has not made a systematic effort to wipe out silver-eyes as opposed to taking out a single very high-profile target who went around calling herself ‘the grimm reaper’ fifty or so years ago, is because both of these ideas—that salem has been warring with oz all this time and that silver eyes are rare because salem hunts them down—are unsubstantiated beliefs asserted by characters who expressly do not have all the facts, and do not really hold up to close examination.

(ozpin was at the highest point ozma has ever achieved when salem utterly, completely thrashed him, and she’s wiped two kingdoms off the map in less than two years, and she made it look effortless. ozma hasn’t been successful in fending her off for thousands of years; she simply hasn’t been trying. likewise, silver-eyed warriors are culturally expected to devote their lives to fighting grimm until they die, of course the trait is rare, and there is zero indication so far that salem made any attempts on summer’s life—you know, the silver-eyed warrior who worked for ozpin?—prior to summer deliberately seeking her out. it makes far more sense to conclude that salem is indifferent to silver-eyes as a class and picks off specific individual silver-eyed warriors who threaten her interests. also they’re supposed to be VANISHINGLY RARE, i promise salem does not have a cellar full of dozens of silver-eyed victims floating in vats of grimm goo, where would she even find them all.)

arguing that she Doesn’t Do things we literally see her do on screen numerous times is just flatly countertextual. we can acknowledge that her evil actions are in fact evil. it’s fine

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Shamura meeting a spider s.o who isn't really apart of the cult and lives the life of a traveler but visits from time to time and members consider her to be a 'big sister' and people love to come to her for advice...

like she'll be pulling pieces of debris, leaves, twigs, pieces of mushroom, etc. from the lambs wool (which she had lectured him about a few minutes prior like "Lamb, you got this in your wool AGAIN?? I will not allow you to continue to talk to people when you basically have a FOREST in your wool, sit down and let me help you.") and Shamura is there and I feel like they have real deep conversations, maybe s.o telling him their story after a while, how they think that they might be from the Silk Cradle but aren't sure because they were taken when they were young and raised in the mountains ... just a little thing i thought abt haha

"I-I can assure you, [y/n]..I don't need-"

"Oh no, you absolutely do need this." You tutted as you made Lamb sit down on a tree stump, picking bits of mushrooms and leaves out of their wool.

They winced as you harshly tugged on a twig that was especially embedded in it, casting it aside once it was plucked free. "I need to do my morning sermon," they grumbled. "Can this wait until-?"

"There's still a few more hours till noon. I will not have you walk up to that podium with your wool being a literal Anurian forest! How do you keep letting it get this bad anyways?"

"I-"

"Actually..don't answer that."

"But...!!! Ugh, fine." With a pout, the Lamb sat with their cheeks puffed out, remembering that they couldn't order you around...as you weren't one of their followers. So you didn't have to abide by any of their rules.

You were a nomadic spider who traveled all across the Old Faith. Your heart desired adventure, but every once in a while it would lead you back to these temple grounds, and you'd witness Lamb's cult growing steadily with each visit.

When they weren't around, their followers would flock to you, having grown accustomed to your frequent appearances. You carried a lot of knowledge during your travels, so you'd share stories of your recent journeys and offer advice to those who asked for it.

Whether it's about something personal or just how to navigate through a domain safely, you had plenty of answers for most of them. Some followers even looked up to you as a sister, which made you happy.

The most important part of your visit, however, was ensuring Lamb looked their best before they went to preach in the temple. You always caught them after they return from crusades, finding them covered in earthly debris without a care in the world.

If this new "god" of the lands wanted to be taken more seriously...they had to look presentable to their followers.

But even so, they were quite the fussy one; stubborn like a child: Bleating constantly, kicking their hooves, and sometimes even demonically hissing if you suggest they removed their crown for a moment.

They only acted that way because Narinder saw you preening their wool once and mocked his former vessel until your glare shooed him away.

Fortunately, Lamb chose not to argue with you any further, making your job easier to finish.

It took a few more minutes, but their wool finally looked a lot better, so you sent them on their way to preach the Red Crown's gospel after bidding them farewell.

Whatever debris you plucked out of them went into a bag of silk you've crafted for yourself. Surely you can do something with the twigs, leaves, mushroom stems, and pumpkin seeds they carried back to the cult grounds--you couldn't let any of that go to waste.

"Greetings, traveler. Back so soon?"

The familiar voice made you perk up, looking to see Shamura standing there with a book in their hands. It seemed to be one from Silk Cradle, detailing trap layouts and designs.

You smiled. "Hello, Lord Shamura. And yes. I like to come and go as I please."

".....forgive me, but your name slips past me.."

"It's [y/n]."

"..ah yes, yes...Sister [Y/n]. Welcome back." They bowed their head politely. "I do have a question, if you have the time."

"Of course." You nodded, before frowning as you noticed the somewhat troubled look on their face. "What ails you?"

"...hm?" They blinked. "Do I look sick?"

"Oh, no. I mean..your expression. I've seen it on other followers, and it's usually because something's weighing heavily on their mind-"

"Why call me "lord" if you have not served under me?" Shamura abruptly interrupted, confused as their gaze went to the open book in their hands. "I have seen many spiders in Silk Cradle...but none quite like yourself. If only I could remember..were you a servant? A warrior? A merchant...?"

The more they struggled to recall, the more ichor began leaking through their bandages. And you could see it was physically paining them, too.

It made you wonder how they ever survived losing the Purple Crown, but then again it probably took a miracle from the Lamb to give them a fighting chance--a second chance.

Even so, you felt bad for Shamura. Their memory gaps kept widening despite their desperation to remember things and continue reading.

"Oh dear..allow me to hold that for you." You gently took the book away from them before the liquid could splatter all over the cover, closing it up. "I didn't grow up in Silk Cradle, but I'm sure I was born there. I only remember being taken up to the mountains..perhaps my family became deserters who disliked the violence."

"Hm...under my ruling, deserters would have been swiftly found and jailed."

"I see-"

"No, no..that's not it...they...would have been swiftly found, tried in my court, and publicly executed." They corrected themselves, huffing. "My apologies."

"...oh. Then I guess I'm glad we weren't ever found out." You awkwardly chuckled, having much preferred what they said before. "It seems your memory has been improving since the last time we met."

"Yes, indeed...indeed it is.." Shamura nodded, before you both heard the tolls of the temple bell, signaling that it was time for the sermon. "The Lamb calls..they are speaking now." They looked to you. "Shall we go together, [y/n]?"

"Sure." With a smile, you linked arms with them. "But as a fair warning, I tend to hang around the back and just listen."

"As do I, my friend...as do I." A tiny smile formed between their fangs. "I hope Lamb's wool isn't covered in earthly vermin anymore."

"It's clean as a whistle." You reassured, smiling back at them, before you two headed towards the temple.

Perhaps you'll stay here in the cult for the rest of the day. Just to spend a little more time with Shamura.

You enjoyed the company of a fellow arachnid.