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dreadwulf · 5 years

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#4 With this Kiss I Pledge My Love

(previous chapters)

Jaime Lannister should have ridden back to King’s Landing weeks ago.

He had fully intended to, after putting the Riverlands to order – to return to his son the boy king, and offer his protection. Get him a proper Small Council who will advise him wisely, and a real Kingsguard to protect him, and get Cersei somewhere well away. Garrison the Lannister armies wisely to maintain order, clean up the mess his lord father has made of the kingdom.

Instead Jaime has been wandering about in a fruitless search for an unimportant girl. Spending weeks riding through snow and freezing cold in a gods-forsaken corner of the Vale with a motley party of leftovers who don’t want him there. He has told not a soul where he has been nor where he is going. He has been gone from his post for so long that the Crown has declared him dead and replaced him on the Kingsguard, and the army he had commanded has been rerouted by unknown orders away from the Riverlands, which will surely swiftly descend into renewed chaos.

He should go back. He should abandon this pointless quest and return to his duties. Jaime has no reason not to, except that he swore a vow and meant it. Under duress and foolishly perhaps, an oath sworn to a dying woman who didn’t die after all, but an oath still. I am yours and you are mine. He is keeping his oaths now, even if no one expects or even wants him to.

There had been no cloaks, no kiss, and no pledging of love, only their hands bound together and him speaking the vow. But even if she had not spoken the same vow back, and the marriage bond will soon evaporate into the air as though it had never been, it will not be him that breaks it. He can be stubborn too.

So he wakes on the cold ground each day and she says barely a word to him and he speaks hardly a word to her as they ride to the Gates of the Moon, and the sands trickle down in the hourglass that is their marriage until only days remain.

Jaime has ridden with her every day through deepening snow and treacherous ice until finally they reached their destination and made camp here, her and Podrick and Hyle Hunt and the Hound, alongside all of the other travelers who have come to rest at the Gates of the Moon.

The Gates are no more promising than anywhere else they have arrived. There is an extensive encampment here of hopeful hedge knights and nobles from the highlands, but none have time for an odd woman in armor and her questions about red-haired girls of four-and-ten. There are no further rumors of Sansa Stark here, or of her sister, although there are a great many more interesting rumors about the rest of the kingdom in the progressing winter.

Jaime collects these rumors and opinions with some interest, mingling himself with the men at camp over food and drink for several days running. Turns out there are a great many things that a person will tell a traveler in the Vale that they would not tell to Lord Commander Lannister. Some of those things are pure nonsense, but others are rather illuminating.

It is not so bad, being dead. He gets many more smiles and greetings as a dead man, and not so many sneers and whispers. He keeps his stump shoved under his travel cloak, has muddied his hair and beard so that they are not quite so golden, and it makes him nearly invisible. He is another middle-aged hedge knight trying to relive his glory days at tourney, so far as anyone knows.

Not so far off. He could not hope to compete there now. Left-handed these green boys could take him, and without his fearsome reputation to dissuade them his life would be in real danger.

He sits at supper and looks at the farm boys and young lords, in the spring of their youth and the peak of their skills. He imagines Brienne defeating them all, beating them down into the mud until they beg for mercy. It’s a shame she won’t enter the tourney; he’d like to see that. Would any one of them be a match for her, at her full power? They are nearer her age, their reputations as spotless as their unbloodied swords. If she had awakened from her long sleep married to one of them, would she be so aggrieved?

The competitors like to talk, and the spectators even more so. They spin tales about the fighters who have come hoping to be Winged Knights, their family connections, their sweethearts and patrons. They tell him all about Lord Baelish and his natural daughter Alayne Stone, who have organized the tourney.

These tales in particular catch his ear. If Littlefinger has a natural daughter I’ll eat my boot. The man is too careful for that. Only the Spider is less likely to produce a bastard offspring, and only out of physical impossibility.

He asks questions about the fabled daughter, and her upcoming marriage to Harold Hardyng. An awfully advantageous match for a Stone, marrying the next in line to the Vale. Conveniently Petyr Baelish seems to have gotten charge of little lord Robert, and rules the Eeyrie as Regent. Jaime wonders if there might be an accident in store, once that wedding is complete. Maybe several accidents. Sweetrobin and Harry the Heir cleared away, and the Vale belongs to Lord Baelish.

He would very much like to meet this Alayne Stone.

That’s more difficult than he would like. She will attend the tourney when it begins, but thus far has remained out of sight. He will have to wait for the tourney and possibly for the very final rounds to lay eyes on her, and that is likely to happen after his deadline is passed. Not that it makes any difference – the one has nothing to do with the other, no matter how persistently his mind makes the connection. Finding Sansa will not stop the marriage from ending.

It will be a relief to have it over and still he is increasingly agitated at the thought. He lies in his tent each night and he thinks on the Hounds Tooth inn when he had shared a room with Brienne as his bride. He had passed that evening most pleasantly, and even though nothing of import occurred he finds himself thinking on it fondly. Brienne asleep and unguarded in his bed while he sat by the fire. Friendly strangers wishing them well, simply for having one another. Your lady wife. It was a night stolen from someone else’s life, a life he is never going to have.

For his own good the marriage must dissolve. It is inane to cling to an illusion and he has done that quite long enough with Cersei. He is never going to be somebody’s husband; he is a knight and he is the kingslayer and that is that.

He is chewing on just this thought as he rides back to his bed at sunset. He knows when he comes back to camp Brienne will be surprised to see him again, as she has been every day that he has not left their party. She knows very well he has other places to be, and is waiting for him to remember it and ride away. Yet he is lingering here and unwilling to leave, though what he is waiting for he cannot imagine. Brienne cannot imagine it either, clearly.

It’s making him cross, and distracted. He does not notice the riders gathering to his flanks until it is too late to evade them.

Jaime is pulled from his horse before he can draw a blade, and thrown to the ground.

Sellswords, plainly. Not expensive ones. Five of them, looking like they’ve slept rough half their lives and just barely know how to hold a blade. He’s a little insulted that anyone would think him no match for these.

He leans back on his elbows and contemplates them in a relaxed pose. “I haven’t any money, and if you want a fine horse, you’d be better off feeding mine to the one you’ve got. This one’s slow as molasses.”

“No money eh?” A skinny, toothless alley cat of a mercenary points a rusty longsword at him. “No Lannister gold?”

Jaime frowns. Clearly his disguise has not been so effective as he’d hoped.

Some of his mates are skeptical. “Can this be the golden lion? He looks more like a weasel.”

“No, it’s ‘im.” The tallest one spits a dark stream through his teeth and stands over Jaime. “Lord Baelish pointed him out to me personally.”

Well that’s irritating. Apparently Littlefinger was in the same room with him and Jaime never laid eyes on the man. Clearly he can cross “spy” off his list of potential careers after “swordfighter”.

“If you’re seeking out a ransom, you may have to wait some time to get it. Only ravens travel well now, and they don’t carry quite so much gold.”

“We got the gold already,” Toothless tells him. He jingles the money bag that hangs beside the knife on his belt. “Lord Baelish pays us well, and he only needs your head.”

Of course. He has asked entirely too many questions. And whatever his plans, Littlefinger has no intention of anyone outside the Vale hearing of them until it’s too late.

“The Crown will have all your heads for it,” he says confidently.

“You’ll be buried right here, Kingslayer, and they will never know. The Crown believes you dead already and no one will miss you.”

Belatedly, Jaime realizes he is right. Not one of his compatriots in the Kingsguard or the Lannister Army knows where he is, and his own house has already forsaken him for the grave. Next to no one will notice if he dies now rather than two months ago. And even fewer than that will mourn him. Possibly none.

He lunges.

The knife comes easily out of Toothless’s belt and into his side, spraying Jaime with blood. But the remaining four sellswords are on him in a moment, and it takes only a few kicks in the stomach before he lies still in the snow again. He knows this routine.

The tall man has his sword out now. “If you’ll tell us where to find the giant bitch, I can make it painless.”

“Nonsense.” Jaime brushes the snow out of his hair as carelessly as possible. “Let’s make it hurt. I can only die once, after all.”

“Happy to oblige.” The tall one shoves his face back into the snow and stands on him. Jaime doesn’t even know who he is. Some no-name cutthroat sent by Petyr Baelish. What a stupid way to die.

“What in the living fuck is that?” one of them shouts.

Horses approach. Abruptly the boot on his neck lifts, and Jaime spits out mud. Is there someone else here trailing him, after the Brotherhood and the Vale Guards? With any luck they will kill each other.

He wipes snow from his eyes and sits back on his heels. Two riders approach very rapidly, and one of them has a sword raised. It crashes into the sellsword who had just been standing over him, with such force it knocks him off his feet.

Brienne dismounts in a strikingly graceful motion, her sword drawn, and she stares them down.

“Unhand my husband,” Brienne growls at them.

Jaime grins. A more wonderful combination of words he cannot imagine.

“Already done,” he points out, waving his stump. “The bloody mummers beat them to it.”

She doesn’t hear him, swings directly into action.

The fight is brief. She holds Oathkeeper with both hands and leads with her left, with her right arm still healing. It should discomfit him how easily she switches her lead hand, how one left-handed blow knocks the blade from her opponent, but instead it makes him smile. She makes short work of their weapons, knocking them from their hands, and their owners from their feet, while Jaime kneels untouched among them.

He hadn’t known how pleasant it could be to be rescued. It’s really quite wonderful. Someone fighting for him, bleeding for him, spilling blood. When the immediate threats are downed she stands in front of him protectively, Oathkeeper in hand, and she looks like a song. A song only for him, for his sake.

“Kingslayer’s Whore!” one of the downed men moans from the ground.

“That’s Kingslayer’s Wife, I’ll have you know,” Jaime says irritably. “She’s made an honest man of me.”

“Hush.” Brienne advances on him. In the time it takes Jaime to stand, Brienne has the man under her boot with a sword pointed to his neck. “What do you want with him? Robbery?”

“Execution,” the wretched man spits. “For crimes against everything good and decent. Kingslayer, Oathbreaker, great golden cripple.”

“That’s right, you do not deserve to say his name,” Brienne tells him. “None of you do. Call him what you will, but you will not be half the man he is.”

Gods be good.

Jaime is pierced by those words, a clean wound right through his chest. It hurts like every time he heard the name and no one spoke up for him, all together, all at once. Paired with the balm of her defense it is almost unbearable.

At a moment’s notice Jaime knows what he wants after all. He wants to keep her. He wants to stay her husband, and her to stay his wife. Never to part again.

He wants her.

“Kingslayer’s Whore,” the sellsword repeats, spitting at her. “Got his cock out of your mouth long enough to ride? After murdering your liege lady Stark for him?”

His blade is drawn before he’s even thought to do it, and he’s walking briskly to Brienne’s side.

Jaime aims the end of his sword directly at the man’s mouth, descending until it falls between his teeth and the man is choking and whimpering against it.

“I don’t suppose sword-swallowing is one of your skills?” He pushes it a little further in, and the man gurgles in terror. “I hear in Braavos there are men who can take a sword right down their gullet and all the way to the hilt, and pull it out again right as rain.”

“Ser…” Brienne speaks up, cautiously.

“I wonder how you learn to do a trick like that - a little at a time, or all at once? Let’s find out.”

“There is no need,” she says quietly, putting a hand to his arm.

He meets her eye only briefly. She threatened the man herself only moments ago, but this is too far?

“My lady wife would have me show you mercy. Can you keep a civil tongue in your head?”

The man makes an eager noise, too afraid to nod his head, and Jaime pulls his blade back.

The scene has not gone unnoticed - they are not far from other encampments, and other fires. There are onlookers now, and among them Podrick Payne on his horse, his little sword drawn in their support. He threatens the onlookers with it, having them keep their distance.

“They were tipped off,” Jaime tells Brienne. “Littlefinger is here - Petyr Baelish. I don’t know what he’s up to but he wanted me dead, and you as well.”

“I have no dealings with him,” Brienne says quizzically. “Could it have something to do with Sansa Stark?”

Unwisely, the man on the ground speaks up. “There’s no Starks in the Vale, whore. No Starks anywhere anymore, thanks to you and yours. They –”

He is interrupted by a swift kick in the face.

Jamie hasn’t yet sheathed his sword, still thinks of feeding it to the man. He’s still angry. He has brought even more abuse on Brienne simply by his association and it infuriates him. His voice sharpens to a deadly point. “You will address the lady properly. Or you will keep no tongue in your head at all.”

“Lady Lannister –” the man corrects himself quickly.

Jaime startles at that, and Brienne stiffens beside him. Then he laughs. “Oh, we haven’t settled that bit yet. Lady Brienne will do for now. But there will be no more of this ‘Kingslayer’s Whore’. She is a noble lady, and a sworn blade of your precious Starks, and no one will speak so crudely of her in my presence and keep their tongue. Understand me? Tell that to your noble compatriots.”

The man whimpers agreement and Brienne lifts her boot, allowing him to sit up and rub his throat nervously.

The city guard, Vale soldiers, approaches in a thunderous pack. Brienne is cheered by their appearance, but Jaime knows better. Littlefinger will own them too; he is thorough like that.

Exactly as expected they take him by the arms as soon as they dismount holding Jaime between them. Guards will have to make a show of arresting him, so that they can murder him in private.

“Sers, these men attacked us,” Brienne tries valiantly to explain, appealing to the guards with her sword lowered. She still thinks they will listen.

One of them shoves her aside. “Quiet, you ridiculous bitch.”

So of course Jaime had to headbutt the man in the face, which hurts, but it drops the man like a sack of flour, which is satisfying enough to be worth it. For his trouble he is slung into the back of a wagon, a jailer’s hearse.

“For what crime?” Brienne questions them loudly. “We were defending ourselves from these sellswords.”

“Attacking a city guard,” the guard says.

Brienne considers that, visibly, head cocked to one side.

Then she smashes the man in the face with the hilt of her sword, so that his nose produces a most astonishing spray of blood, and is immediately thrown into the wagon right next to him.

*******************

“You could have stopped them,” he grouses to her later.

They are seated on the cold stone floor of a dungeon, daylight barely peeking into their cell.

“If by that you mean killed them, we would hardly get anywhere finding Sansa Stark if we run about murdering city guards.”

“We’re not going to find her in here!“

She is unbothered. “They will keep us but a night.”

“And wake us with a knife across the throat.”

“Pod rode for help,” Brienne says stubbornly, staring straight ahead. “He will find Ser Hyle and Ser Clegane. They will think of something.”

Time is passing fitfully as the light slowly fades. Their cramped cell is barely big enough for the both of them and it's freezing besides, and they sit just near each other, not touching, their breaths visibly hovering in the air around them. Brienne pulls her knees closer to her chest, for either warmth or protection. Without her armor she is probably short of both.

A dozen things to say flit through his mind, and he says none of them. Instead Brienne speaks up next, some time later.

“You did not have to do that,” she says softly. “To threaten the man on the ground. Or attack that guard.”

He snorts. “Certainly I did. What else would I do, the dishonorable Kingslayer.”

“I mean that you did not have to defend my name.” She shifts, angling her face away from him. “I am accustomed to being insulted.”

So is he. But Jaime is not accustomed to her being insulted, at least not by someone other than him. “Where did that particular insult come from, I wonder? Kingslayer’s Whore. The Brotherhood said it too, well before the Quiet Isle. Did you ride about declaring that I had sent you? Not a great stratagem.”

“The lions on the sword might have had something to do with it.”

“Ah.”

He swallows and thinks about the rope marks around her neck. Perhaps it had not happened because she had any great feeling for him, but it is his fault all the same. He gave her a sword covered with lions and sent her after Sansa Stark, and they broke her arm and tore her face and hung her.

“If you are going to attack anyone who calls me names, you will have to fight the whole of Westeros from one end to another. Do not bother.”

She is so calm. He wants her to be angry and rage about it, and it isn’t in her. She is resigned to this. It makes him want to shake her.

“If people must make arses of themselves it is one thing. But for you to take abuse on my behalf… that I do not like. Your reputation should not suffer for things that you did not do.”

“It’s my reputation too, now,” she says mournfully. “Already the Vale knows I killed my liege lady and disbanded her Brotherhood. I did do that, and I can hardly dispute it. It will be everywhere before long.”

“You cannot possibly be troubling yourself over that.” Jaime grimaces even to think on it, it makes him sick inside, in an entirely familiar way. “You had no choice.”

“I did have a choice, and I made it. I chose to break my oath, and I knew the consequences. I learned them from you.” She looks over at him finally. “You made a choice as well. And you have still carried the guilt all these years, haven’t you?”

His mouth goes bone-dry. Only Brienne has ever seen how he blames himself for breaking that oath, even all these years later. Despite every reason why he could not have done otherwise.

“Yes,” he says quietly.

“Sansa Stark is my last chance for honor too. I can only make up for my failure by her mother by keeping my promise, and seeing her safely returned to Winterfell.” She leans her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. “At least then I can hold up my head and know that I did the best I could. I was no kind of knight, and I failed from one end of it to the other, but I cannot go back to Tarth until I have found her.”

Brienne looks so bone-tired and forlorn at that moment that it aches to look at her.

The protective instinct in him rises up, the most powerful instinct he has, and Jaime is totally unable to resist it. Something is hurting someone dear to him and his most natural reaction is to fling himself at it. He doesn’t have a sword and the enemy is nothing he can protect her from, but Brienne is hurting and he cannot think how to make it stop.

So he grasps her shirt at the collar and pulls her to him, kissing her.

Brienne goes very still and softens all at once, melting against him. Her mouth is warm and sweet and his heart is racing and he is pulled by a current far more powerful than he can swim against. The world rushes by very quickly, a blur.

Her hands struggle up to his chest as if to push him away but they only sit there preparing, always about to.

The thought floats by without his leave. With this kiss I pledge my love. His lips speak it to hers.

But then she does push him back. He stands against her hands catching his breath. Her eyes are so blue and so wide and so full of hurt.

“How could you?” She chokes out the words painfully.

“Like this,” he says, trying to kiss her again.

“Don’t.” She jumps up to her feet, backing away from him as though he had attacked her. “Why would you do something like that?”

Because he wanted to, that’s all he can think of. And he can’t tell her. To simply say, out loud, what he wants? Jaime doesn’t do things like that. A person cannot just admit to the things they want, not out loud. If you reveal what you really want, someone will take it from you, someone will use it to get what they want from you. A person keeps those things inside, and they try not to think on them, so that no one will discern their secrets. With enough practice a person will not even remember the things they want. Or know what they are in the first place.

“I wanted you to stop talking,” he says, too frustrated to think of anything better.

“You…” she sputters angrily, and paces over him. “Did you think you can do as you like because we are still married? Did you think for a moment that I might not want my first kiss in a filthy dungeon…?”

“Your first?” That had not occurred to him.

“Oh, gods.” She covers her face and he can see she’s blushing all down her throat, where it disappears down into her shirt.

That old instinct again. How can he make it better?

“I wanted to. I wanted to kiss you.”

"You wanted…?” Her face tightens painfully. “Why?”

Jaime thinks of Red Ronnet and his rose, and he would very much like to find the man and hit him again.

“I lost my senses, all right?”

“Stop talking,” Brienne snaps at him, and shoves herself down into the farthest corner away from him, still blushing.

Jaime congratulates himself silently on making everything infinitely worse, and then things get worse again, all on their own.

A woman walks into the dungeon. They know immediately it is a woman, well before they see her, from her carefully measured, delicate steps. She is tall, though not so tall as Brienne, and she walks to the bars of their cell and looks down upon them calmly.

She takes down the hood of her winter cape, standing over them, and it reveals rather than a noble lady a young girl, no more than five-and-ten, if that. She is dressed plainly but elegantly, in fine homespun clothes of a lovely warm caramel color that matches her hair, and looks quite out of place in a filthy dungeon.

Jaime searches out her face in the dim light. “Alayne Stone, I presume.”

Alayne nods. “I am. And you are the Kingslayer, and this lady is your wife, Brienne of Tarth. The woman who murdered Catelyn Stark.”

#WHOOPS PLOT #okay this was going to be the last chapter and then it got long #because me #so now there is going to be a Chapter Five #From This Day Until the End of My Days #braime #tumblr fic

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bbrandy2002 · 5 years

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The Diary of Riley Brooks

Wacky Drabble #6

Prompt: So, is this something you do regularly.

A/N: I have no idea if someone else has done a Riley journal and Im not scouring tumblr to find out. Tag me, if so.

Drabbler tags: @emceesynonymroll @burnsoslow @katedrakeohd @romanticatheart-posts @jessiembruno @dcbbw @stopforamoment @sirbeepsalot

September 7

Dear Diary,

I'm still in fucking Texas!!!!! I swear, this has felt like every bit of seven weeks with no end in sight. Between that bitch, Leona and the damn roosters waking me up every morning at 5 a.m., I'm ready to set this ranch ablaze and piss on it's ashes. Is that wrong to think?? I WANNA GO HOME!!!!

So, this day started out as it usually does in this place, with unnecessary shit that I don't care about, but, somehow get roped into. Even with all the Savannah, Bertrand, Chuck, Buck, I don't give the fuck what his name is, drama, it was one of the most memorable days of my entire life.

First things first.....Savannah starts her shit as soon as I wake up thing this morning, and, of course, I have to deal with her. She thought Bertrand left her ass at the alter, which is what she rightfully deserves, however, my brother is unfortunately not a man who would do something so intelligent. Thankfully, Bertrand had talked to Bianca and that finally put the drama queen at ease. So, I volunteer like the saint I am, secretly just wanting to get the fuck away from Sav for a while, nauseous as hell, to retrieve one groom that I find at a local general store.

After I beat the shit out of Bertrand, I sweet talk the shop owner, who lools like a young Sam Elliot, into giving us the Walker family saddle. I played the Queen card like a fucking pro and Cassidy, a man by the way, lapped every sweet bit of me up. We retrived that saddle and hauled ass back to the ranch.

Now that I had saved the day, once again, I headed upstairs to get ready. I met Hana first, who I swear, sometimes make me question my sexuality, the girl looked lit. I change into a lovely, pink dress, but, not my usual little pink dress, one that actually makes me look like the godess that I am. I swear, my boobs are hanging out the front, they've never looked fuller. Liam should have no trouble reaching his hand up this sexy number during the reception.

Liam then changed into his suspenders ensemble and it took everything I had not rip his pants down right then and there and take every single inch of him.

Like this entire trip has been, Madeleine rolls in like a fucking nightmare that I can't escape from, bitching about us taking too long. Of course, the instant I hear that grating sound of her voice, I feel like I'm going to vomit. For some reason, I don't think I'll ever be able to explain, Madeleine actually served a purpose in my life today. Why the bitch is carrying around a pregnancy test, beats me, but, whatev's.

Everything was going okay, considering I had just pissed on a stick with Madeleine in the damn room. After her timer goes off, I pull the test out of the drawer and its a big fat negative. Like, what the hell!!!! We're fucking like rabbits people, Liam's boys are more than up to the task according to the doctor. I was quite certain this time, they hit their target. I go to close the drawer and see another pregnancy test in there and that one is positive...someone just shoot me already. This is one of many reason why, I WANNA GO HOME!!!! Who the hell took a test and just left it in the bathroom drawer? Hmmm?

So the process of elimination begins.

Penelope was already starting with the poodle talk, for the love god, Olivia, I would have pardoned you on the spot if you had stabbed her. Be nice Riley, all has been forgiven for her stunt at Applewood, or is it. I still don't trust her.

Outside we go and I'll admit, the wedding decorations were beautiful. For people recommended by Leo, I fully expected nothing short of a rager...but, this was nice too.

I was able to eliminate Kiara before the ceremony started, one down and about six more to go.

I saw Bianca, did she for real not change her clothes for her own daughter's wedding...haha...nice! And did Savannah give all the credit for that saddle to Bertrand? Bitch, she should be bowing before me right now.

That dumbass, back from the dead, Barthelemy was screeching like a hyena right in the middle of the procession. Thankfully, Madeleine's got enough screeching in her for all of Cordonia and was able to get him to shut the hell up. The man has been in a coma for last 15 years, he shouldn't have much to say.

Okay, I'll admit, Drake looked damn good out there today, it almost brought a tear to my eye when he stepped up and helped his sister off the horse. Too bad the damn thing didn't trample her to death. Did I just write that out loud? I will blame it on my hormones.

Dear God, Bertrand? I've never seen him in anything other than sweater vests or leisure suits, he cleans up nicely. Why is it that when he walks me down the aisle, the biggest damn event in Cordonian history, he's dressed like fucking hobo and today he decides to wear a tux. I'm still salty as hell at him for that little stunt.

I hear nothing as Liam begins the ceremony, is he my baby daddy or not? Its the only thing I have on my mind, until dumb fuck Chuck objects to this sham of a marriage. Come on Sav, just admit you've had your ass tapped a time or two by him.

In the time I've known Bertrand, the thought of punching him has crossed my mind more than once, however, no one else messes with my Beaumont crew. Liam, you knew what you were getting into when you married me, so it shouldn't surprise you when I want to see a good ass kicking. I loved that I was part of ruining Savannah's day...I'm the Queen girl!

After helping Bertrand nail his vows, it was time to find out if I'm knocked up or not. Its hard to imagine Penelope knows the first thing about sex, so I bat the bouquet towards Olivia, who refused to catch it. After a memorable exchange, where Olivia threatened to punch Madeleine in the, I quote, "irritating face", god I love that bitch so much, I was able to eliminate her.

It was during the reception that I truly felt in my heart, I was pregnant. That moment when my husband held a toddler down so I could scrap icing off Bartie was a clear indication something is up. Also #couplegoals; this man will do anything for me.

Lastly, I found out who the twat was that left the used pregnancy test in the drawer of my bathroom. Why was I even surprised to find out it was Savannah? All I could ask her was, so, is this something you do regularly, throw your negative piss tests back in the drawer. That skank was in my bathroom, knowing I'm trying to get pregnant, and left it there, in hopes of what? Girl, you will never be me no matter how hard you try!

I can't worry about that now, I'm pregnant. I can't wait to tell Liam, when he sobers up, his dream is coming true. We are going to have a baby.

Riley

#wackydrabbles #trr liam x mc #king liam #liam x riley #trr liam #liam x mc #the royal heir #trh #choices trh #trh liam

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syekick-powers · 4 years

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rambling about emotions and self-control

i think one of the things that pisses me off the most when family members criticize me is when they say that i’m “bad at controlling my emotions”. first of all, I have ADHD and bipolar simultaneously, my emotions are a hundred times fucking stronger than yours. secondly, i am actually excellent at controlling my emotions. i am the kind of person where if i am having a panic attack, you might not have any fucking clue that i’m even having anxiety unless i state directly that im having a panic attack. ive had PAs so bad where i legit thought i was about to die and not a single shred of that world-ending panic touched my external affect for a second. part of my fucking trauma revolves around having to hide my distress to avoid freaking out other people, which means that i learned to develop a diamond fucking grip on my external signs of distress. it’s deeply maladaptive in some situations, but in other situations it’s equally as useful. and yet because i am very animated and exaggerated in my persona, people assume that i just let my emotions fountain everywhere uncontrollably and that i’m just a waterfall of feelings.

incorrect. every bit of exaggeration in my affect is deliberate. i am not acting like a clown because i can’t control myself, i am purposefully choosing to exaggerate to convey my feelings more effectively. if i don’t want you to know what i’m feeling, you will never ever ever find out. there are some people i interact with on a regular basis whomst i fucking loathe deeply, and yet any time i interact with them i am completely personable and friendly. when im streaming video games on a high difficulty and get frustrated from having to do the same part over and over and over again, i never get tilted on stream. i dont yell or rage, and in fact the more frustrated i become the more blank and expressionless my affect turns. when i was playing dead space 2 on zealot difficulty on stream recently, all of my viewers were complimenting the fact that i spent at least two collective hours on trying to beat the final boss and yet still did not get visibly upset or pissed off once.

yes, my emotions are strong. i have two separate disorders that both have “emotional dysregulation” as some of their biggest negative side effects. my bad moods feel like a fucking firestorm most of the time and strong emotions are very difficult to handle and control. sometimes, my emotions get the better of me and i snap or get irritable. but the only time i’m irritable is when i feel physically and emotionally like utter dogshit and the bad mood impacts my ability to hold back my emotions. the truth is that in my day to day life there are dozens of fucking things that irritate the living hell out of me and i choose to discard my frustration rather than stay mad about something trivial--either that, or i feel the frustration intensely, but bite it back and don’t say anything because i’m not in the mood to pick a fight. if i’m being pissy with you, it’s because i’m completely fuck-out of all mental and physical energy that i would otherwise use to hold back my irritation. there is nothing left to burn. there aren’t even fumes in the tank. this bitch empty, so prepare for the yeet.

the problem that i run into with my family members is that this internal struggle to contain my emotions is completely invisible to any external viewers. they’re not me, of course they can’t see what’s going on in my head. what makes that an issue is that they don’t see the twenty fucking times i got irritated and managed to control my temper through the frustration, they only see the five or so times i lose control. my efforts are invisible to everyone around me, so when i finally do get fed up and make a snippy comment or complain, it seems like i just let my emotions get the better of me all the time.

to be fuckening honest, if the people who criticized me lived one fucking day in my shoes, the extremity of my emotions would exhaust them within hours. the thing is, i’m 25 fucking years old, which means i’ve lived with this shit for over two fucking decades. i have learned to control myself to an extent, and, being honest with yall? it fucking exhausts the living shit out of me all the goddamn time. it’s like my brain expends all my mental fuel reserves on overclocking my emotions as hard as possible while leaving no fuel left over for activities in the day that i actually need to do. it’s part of the reason i’m so fuckdamn tired all the fuckdamn time. but i’m not bad at controlling my emotions when i actually have the energy to do so. in fact, i’m so good at suppressing them that half the time, people don’t know i’m upset at all. to a certain extent, i’ve gotten used to how extreme my emotions are, and have started learning to predict what sets me off so i can make an effort to avoid the negative stimulus and save myself the frustration. i’m just really fucking tired of people accusing me of not controlling my emotions well enough when god fucking damnit you have no idea how hard i’m actually fucking trying!!! it feels like i’ve gotten so good at hiding my distress in my day-to-day life that now people have no fucking idea how shitty i actually feel until they poke me one too many times and i fucking bite their finger off, and then assume that i just randomly blew up on them with no reason or justification. that i’m just behaving like this to spite them personally.

i promise you im not fucking behaving randomly. in fact, my frustration triggers are actually pretty fucking consistent. the same bullshit behaviors will always piss me off; what changes on a day-to-day basis is how well i control the extremity of my reaction. if i’m having a good day, i have enough fuel stores to go “meh, whatever” and brush it off without being too bothered for very long. if i feel like shit, my ability to control my response is hampered and it becomes much harder to bite back a snippy comment. i’m not lashing out to be malicious or spiteful. i’m lashing out because you’ve been doing this shit every day for the past two fucking weeks and today i’m just too tired to deal with this fucking bullshit anymore. my reaction is not a sudden unprovoked blowing up of a bomb. it’s “you poked the caged animal one too many times and now it’s going to fucking bite you to make you stop because it has no other way to express its frustration”.

i try to be clear and concise with my boundaries, and frankly i don’t think they’re all that unreasonable. i like to be able to decide when and how i do a task on my own time rather than being pushed and pulled and jabbed and pressured every step of the way. i like to be able to have my own space where people have to get my permission before entering suddenly so that i feel like i have a safe place to hide when i’m overstimulated. i like to decide when and where i want to engage in socialization, and for how long. i like being able to decide when i’m ready to do a task, rather than having a task suddenly shoved on me with no warning or being pressured to do it before i’m ready. i do not like being gifted objects i did not request (and often actively requested not to get) and then being expected to be grateful for something i didnt even want in the first place. i don’t like gifts coming with invisible price tags and obligations that can change whenever the gifter decides they want more out of me. and i absolutely cannot. fucking. stand. passive aggression. all of these things do not really seem all that unreasonable to me, yet time and time again people treat me like i’m just asking for so much more than they can possibly give. and you know what? 75% of the fucking time when someone crosses one of these boundaries all i do is Make A Note Of It and go along with the boundary violator’s wishes anyway, because i actively decided that making a big deal out of them crossing my boundaries is not worth the effort of asking them to change their behavior, because throughout my entire fucking life i’ve been constantly treated as the irrational, unrealistic, crazy bitch for trying to set those boundaries. i’ve been taught time and time and fucking time again that defining my boundaries is too much to fucking ask. so when someone does violate my boundaries, there’s a little “Sye will remember that“ popup and absolutely zero expression or reaction. which means that yes. when i finally get tired and can’t bite back my frustration any longer, it’s because you’ve done the exact same thing to me two hundred fucking times previous and i don’t have the fucking patience to suck it up and deal with it anymore. im done with your shit.

so yeah. i’m a little bit fucking sick of people telling me that i have poor self-control. the fact that you think i have no self-control is an indicator of how good it actually is, because i’m so fucking good at hiding my distress that you don’t even have any idea how absolutely like a fetid mound of horse shit i feel like until my fuse finally burns all the way up. i can contain a 10-out-of-10 ‘i’m imminently about to die’ panic attack so well that not a scrap of that panic shows up in my external affect for even a second. i can suppress my pain on stream when it’s at a 7 out of 10 intensity or higher and be fucking on stream playing video games and commentating and show almost no sign of discomfort except for an intense concentrating face. don’t you fucking ever tell me that i’m bad at controlling myself. i’m a goddamn adult. i’ve learned how to control 90% of my fucking emotions so well that i could be holding a conversation with you imagining myself breaking your fucking nose and show absolutely zero sign of external hostility. i am good at controlling my fucking emotions. the problem is that my emotions are so world-endingly, apocalyptically intense that sometimes i just get too fucking tired to hold back, and then that’s when i bite. i’ m not just lashing out randomly with no provocation. i’ve been tread on a million fucking times and took it with a smile and you had no fucking idea. just because i bit you doesn’t mean i did it because i have no self-control. self-control? self-control???? don’t you fucking talk to me about self-control you headass bitch. i have a fucking supernova coming out of my brain and you’re telling me im weak for not being able to bite it back when your emotions have about as much intensity as a bowl of lukewarm porridge. don’t ever fucking criticize me for not being able to control myself when you’re playing life on easy mode and i’ve been stuck on expert all my fucking life. self-control. don’t you fucking talk to me about self-control ever again. you have no idea what the fuck you’re even talking about. fuck off.

#sye's babbles #sorry this is a fucking essay but i needed to get some shit off my chest

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trickstarbrave · 4 years

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told harry potter fans on twitter to stop making “miku wrote harry potter” replies on literally every serious post about JKR’s transphobia and actually discussing how she is in fact transphobic despite her denials and one claim she “accidentally” liked TERF tweets and abt how her actions harm trans women in particular and now i have spent the last few hours being accused of “telling other people how to cope and handle their emotions”

listen i am not policing you by asking you watch what situation youre in before you make a joke that can be insensitive, harmful, and counterproductive. we can all use humor to cope with difficult situations. i have use humor to cope with difficult situations. an example:

i was in a car accident in which i nearly died. i was trapped under an engine unconscious and the EMTs couldnt say if i was going to live or not because they couldnt see me. it was, when i came to, a very scary situation, though after the fact i found a lot of things about it very funny (like me telling the EMT “no i wasnt” after he told me i was in a car accident, while covered in broken glass under a car engine is objectively hilarious to me). HOWEVER: due to this scary situation as well, my loved ones were terrified i was literally dying and there was nothing they could do to stop it and then the weeks of me very slowly healing and being covered in wounds, a twisted femur, sobbing in the hospital, and being unable to communicate with them normally.

several have PTSD. they don’t find my jokes, which are coping humor, very funny. all THEY can think about is the time they thought i was going to die. the time they felt nothing but fear. the anxiety, sobbing on the phone, calling off work, sobbing in front of my mangled car, etc. so i try to keep them to a minimum.

COULD i yell at them and tell them “stop telling me how to cope and express my anger!!!”? absolutely. in fact you could argue i have more of a right to because i was the one literally dying. except thats an awful mindset to have. i care about these people. i am kind of touched they were so worried about me they were this upset. so i try to keep them to a minimum and i back off when im told. if someone else in a car accident or someone who lost someone to a car accident told me to stop i would. my coping should not hurt others in the process. there are other places and situations i can make these jokes and i also make sure i process my feels and pain and anxiety over it in a healthy way rather than make jokes. people around me telling me i am making them uncomfortable or upset is not “policing my emotions and coping”, they are also coping and dealing with their own emotions. very shocking i know. that requires being considerate of other ppls emotions as well as your own and learning the time and place for jokes.

also if the only ways you can process this situation are “be extremely angry on social media to the point of exhaustion” and “make jokes about denial that someone extremely bigoted made something you like” maybe you need to reassess your online experience and emotional health. genuinely. there are other ways to express your emotions. you deserve to feel pain, sadness, mourning to a degree for something you love, disgust, and more. anger and ironic humor are not the two ways you can express yourself. vent to a friend, think about how you feel, write a diary or blog post, and understand others.

and stop beating this dead horse into the ground with “miku made ____” seriously. it just is a conversation end point. there is no way to continue past that. its just a way for you to compartmentalize your conflicting feelings that someone you liked did something bad, and instead of thinking about it and processing it you’re shoving it in a box. again, process your feelings like a normal person and if its too painful to do right now (because youre trans), fine, you deserve to remove yourself from those conversations as you hold that pain. no one can make you talk about it. but ironic “lol no a terf who has a lot of money and influence did not write this book that directly gave her that money and influence” is not helpful in discussions about how Yes, JKR Is In Fact A Terf With Money And Influence And Most Likely Actively Working With Organizations To Hurt Trans Women

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rcris123 · 5 years

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!Warning for erotic mutilation!

It’s barely been a day since he last saw Arthur. So the last thing he expected was hearing his name be called out by his son. Boy barged in; eyes wide in troubled anticipation.

“I thought he was with you.” It’s what he simply said; voice cracking from boyhood and worry.

A hand on the boy’s back to lead him out of the small, crowded saloon. Getting up ached. He led him to some stairs by the marketplace so they could sit down, ‘cause he ain’t meant to sit up. Leaving the soreness of his chest from the cuts aside, on the inside, something crawled and grappled at his heart. Something was terribly wrong.

“Something happened.” It wasn’t even a question; statement.

“He ain’t back. Been gone with-” Boy pursed his lips, shot up from the stairs, looked at him convicted. Yes, Sebastian guessed the boy and his father were part of an outlaw gang, and Arthur ain’t taught the kid to be stupid.

After a moment’s hesitation, a search through his pockets, Isaac snatches Sebastian’s hand and presses round, flat metal in in, roughly bigger than a large coin. It was a medallion. Saint Sebastian Pray for us.

“Don’t turn him in.” The boy was on the verge of tears with that demand, lips pressed in a thin line and nose crinkled, then he came closer and in a hushed tone: “You heard of Dutch van der Linde? That’s us. Since I’ve been young or before that.” At least 15 years an outlaw, then. Jesus Christ... Sebastian remained silent. “He left this morning, said to discuss some peace with that man Colm O’Driscoll.” He ain’t knowing him. “Never came back...” Isaac then looked away. “Dunno why I’m telling you this. You couldn’t even help...”

The pit in his stomach grows. Sebastian almost put his hand on Isaac’s back, but stopped. Not just by the pain in his shoulder, but ‘cause it wasn’t his place to do so. But how else could he even try to help the boy that clearly came for some form of comfort. Did he not find it in his gang?

“What’d the others say? Dutch?”

“Said he went away like he always did. He’ll come back. But I’m always there. I’m with him!” Bitter silence then: “Unless it’s you I guess...” and silence falls yet again. “Did you fuck?...”

“No.” Sebastian coughs the answer out in an instant.

That was never the intent. Yes, Arthur was quite handsome, but he never paid and didn’t ever have to; man said they were friends, despite his chosen line of work, despite his frankly abhorrent behavior towards him. Sebastian just had to be stupid enough to save someone once.

He... he cared about people. And it got him here.

But this wasn’t about him. It was about this kid who just lost his father, after almost watching him die not too long ago. What a mess... And Sebastian had nothing to give the kid. Not like he did before anyway. He ain’t meant to be a father.

He stands up: “You should go back to camp...” It almost sounded cruel.

Isaac stood stiff.

“This ain’t no place for a kid.”

“I ain’t no kid no more...” the boy said, bitter. “Took me for a... social call...” A delicate word for something that must have involved beatings... A sigh: “Pa’s a good- decent man, mister.”

Sebastian pats the boy’s back this time, despite the burst of pain: “He is.” Life ain’t about to give ‘em much choice in who they gonna be, but Isaac’s probably still too young to understand that.

Isaac mellows somehow under touch. The boy probably doesn’t understand very well what is it that he and his father could be sharing if it wasn’t something sexual – the circumstances of their meeting surely gave off that idea. But Sebastian ain’t quite sure himself what’s it about Arthur. It was strange. A man with a son all but drops dead in the streets of Saint Denis, and when refusing the money, takes him hunting in the dead of night, let’s him stay. Then comes back. To show he cares; for whatever reason – no, it made perfect sense. Isaac was Arthur’s entire world. Somehow, Sebastian saved them both.

Was that why Isaac shoved that medallion in his hand? To take care of them? To take care of him, Arthur? But Sebastian had nothing to offer, him or to this kid. He ain’t even knowin’ who the fuck Colm O’Driscoll was to try and be a hero and save his Pa.

Well, maybe there was one thing he could do.

“Want me to come back with you? It ain’t quite safe out there-”

“Yeah.” Isaac slipped away, ran for his horse; a few clucks so the mountain of a stallion bends its front knee and the boy climbs into saddle. “Just... just a bit before camp. I’ll tell you when.”

It’s reckless, the way the boy spurs the horse to a gallop on the crowded streets of Saint Denis. But he can’t say he doesn’t understand Isaac’s grief. His father is gone and might be gone for good. Sebastian ain’t even thought that in some way, no matter his efforts, Arthur was meant to die. A pang within his chest, breath labored, sore: how it all fit into it all. He ain’t a do-gooder. He’s a fucking homosexual prostitute, lowest rung of the ladder... He can’t save people. Couldn’t even save his little girl, so there’s no one else.

Riding hurt, pain shot up though the shoulder, crawled, itching electric, down between the ribs. That with all those thoughts. He remembered Stefano’s knife; carving almost carefully into his skin; at the shoulder it dug deep, hungry, so now he could barely move it. Sebastian tried as best he could to follow. Isaac rode with quiet rage.

The road took them through Rhodes. One more reason to have his heart jump up – he couldn’t tell that to the boy. It was his nightmare. But the town passed soon enough, after which they went ahead on the way that led by Southfield Flats.

Isaac stopped by a trail that went into the woods, but he didn’t say anything for quite a while:

“Thank you...”

He’s out of words himself: “Good luck, kid...”

A stifled sob before he turned his horse away-

Two men come out of the woods with riffles in their hands. Sebastian put his arms up.

“Isaac head back to camp.” The black haired one, with the scarred face urged.

The other, a red head pointed the barrel at him: “And you, don’t you dare pull any funny business, ya’ hear.” He sounded Irish.

“He’s with me!” Isaac tried, jumped off the horse, rushed between them.

“No he ain’t. Watchu talking about?” Scar-Face continued, grabbing the boy’s shoulder.

“He’s with Arthur!” Isaac screeched.

“Watchu done to the boy?!” the Irish loaded the gun.

“Nothing!” Sebastian roared himself.

“He saved Pa!” The two men looked at each other. “Those few weeks ago when he came back shot up. He only made it ‘cause of him.” Silence. “Why don’t you trust me, you idiots!”

“Hush, boy!-” The brunet tried speaking but was met by a harsh palm over his cheek. “You son of a-”

“I say we take ‘im to Dutch. He’ll know what to do. C’mon fancy pants!” The Irish took his horses’ reins and started leading him between the trees.

Isaac whistled for his stallion and ran ahead on foot.

“Dutch!” both the boy and Scar-Face yelled at the same time.

There were no less than 20 people in that camp and every single one of them looked up at him, all reaching for their guns.

“What happened?” Most probably Dutch himself, raven haired, trimmed moustache, gold rings and chains.

“This focker was just by the road with Isaac.” Irish man called out.

“Are you alright, son?” Dutch spoke to Isaac.

“How many times do I have to say. This man saved Arthur’s life.” Isaac was livid and scared all at once.

“Did he now?... Boy says you saved Arthur’s life.” Dutch approached like a big cat, step certain, wide, ambling, arms outstretched. “That true?”

“He got shot by Lemoyne Raiders a few days ago in Saint Denis. I helped him to the Doctor. Offered him a bed.” Sebastian spoke low. He ain’t a threat.

He’s outnumbered, scanning the people that now surround him and his horse.

He recognized that one.

And that one recognized him.

“No way!” The big man shot up “I know that one!-” then he closed his mouth as if he almost fell into a horrendous trap.

Yes, Sebastian saw him. He fucked Albert the Bear some time ago.

“Shit! I thought I’ve seen this man before.” The man tried to backtrack but it’s too late.

“Where, Bill.” Dutch ordered.

“Ooough- Shit! Back in Saint Denis.” Bill caved in. “In a Molly-house. He’s a, uh, working man.”

People looked at Bill and that man became small. And Sebastian’s chest was cramped, tight.

“Oh, is that so...” Dutch continued “I sure do hope you don’t come here with any nefarious intentions. Especially not towards the boy.”

“Dutch-” Isaac dragged the man by his sleeves. “He and Pa-” an inhale. “He... and Pa... You know what I mean...” The boy tried, voice dying by the end.

“You for real?” Scar-Face couldn’t contain his disbelief. “Jesus Christ.”

Dutch’s face lights up in an odd expression as if he just discovered someone shitting in the outhouse:

“Arthur and-”

“Where is he?!” Isaac keeps shaking Dutch’s arm. “Where’s Pa?! You took him with you, where is he?! Sebastian ain’t seen him!” An elderly chap unglues the boy from Dutch. “Uncle Hosea, don’t you dare!”

And it’s the elder one that speaks: “You seen Arthur recently, Sebastian, I presume?”

“Yesterday. But not since.” Sebastian replies, almost as if following etiquette.

“He went this morning with you!” Isaac points at Dutch. “and Micah!” then at the burly fellow in the red shirt, mug hidden by a white hat.

“Calm down, son!” Dutch almost lost his temper there.

Hosea held the kid closer and firmer, with a soft, calm whisper: “He’s right Isaac, you gotta stay calm about this.” Then he picks his head up: “Dutch, Arthur’s most probably in some trap somewhere. Shouldn’t we send some boys out to look for him, the kid’s all worried.”

“If Arthur’s kidnapped ain’t we should be looking for ‘im?” Sean spoke up. “He did the same for me, he did!”

“I’d say the same.” A black man built like a bull spoke up.

“And I say we need to calm down!” Dutch raised his tone above everyone else’s. “And we wait it out.”

“Wait it out like ye did with me?” The Irishman shot up. “And let him get tortured a month?”

“No!” Isaac struggled.

“I’ll see what I can do!” Dutch continued. “Now everybody, stay calm! He’s fine!”

“He ain’t fine.” Isaac’s voice could barely be heard saying that; Hosea shook the boy’s shoulder, dragged him closer.

“What about me?” Sebastian asked; he wanted to get down from the horse and in some shape or form join the poor kid.

“We have our eyes on you-” that sounded like a threat but not an outright refusal of him being there.

Off the horse he goes, it comes with a grit of teeth as his shoulder gave him no peace. Sebastian tries to approach Hosea and Isaac.

“Is it true that Arthur, uhm, how do I say that delicately-”

“No need.” Sebastian cut the old man short.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to assume-”

This whole discussion made him shift his weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortable; it ain’t like that. He and Arthur... Friends. Even though that time when he grabbed the man’s hand he felt. A warm rush flushing his chest

“He ain’t paid me for anything if that’s what you’re asking.” Sebastian speaks at last. “I care. For him and the boy.”

Isaac was still locked between the other man’s arm, looking up at him.

“Arthur’s been a good father if you ask me.” Hosea continued. “Meaning with what he was given he... I feel he tried.”

“I feel so too.”

“That is quite good to hear.” Sebastian was still stiff. Pain. And this discussion isn’t helping. “Sorry if I made you feel odd, it’s just quite the news to me. Always thought Arthur- well he is a father and all.”

“I had a daughter.” Sebastian interrupts yet again. Heart hung heavy in his chest. “You got any place to sit down.” Well there were tables around but he wasn’t going to assume they’re for him.

“Sure.”

“I had a daughter.” He says again, once seated. Isaac’s on a chair by Hosea’s side. “I had a wife that loved me, thou’ I guess not enough. I was a Sheriff. Right here in Rhodes.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that...”

“Yes... I saved Arthur because he had a son begging for help.” A deep breath in so he doesn’t start crying in front of all these strangers that don’t want him no good. “Because I couldn’t save her, my little girl. I couldn’t-”

“That’s... quite the story there. I’m sorry, Sebastian... And thank you. For bringing Arthur back to us-”

“And now he’s gone again-” tone becomes harsher.

“Well, Arthur’s always been quite hardy, he made it out of worse predicaments, when Isaac was real young.” Hosea drags he boy in his lap. “I reckon he’ll be back.”

“It was definitely a trap they sent him in back there-”

“I know, Isaac. But I guess Dutch is right about waiting for a little while. Rushing in God knows where and finding it crawling with O’Driscolls ain’t smart. It’s probably what they want. Arthur’s bait.”

Isaac jumped off:

“Can I go fishing? There’s a spot not far from here-”

“Not alone, Isaac.” Hosea said.

“I’ll go.” Sebastian added, standing up.

“Ah, guess the boy’ll make an outlaw of you yet.” Old man got up too. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

Hosea left. But seeing them go out of camp, Mister Scar-Face strode towards them.

“Can I... uhm, join the two of you?”

Isaac perked up a bit: “Will Jack come?”

“Uhm... No. Not this time. I... I gotta talk with- Sebastian was it?”

“Oh.” Isaac’s eyebrows draw together.

“Didn’t get your name.” Sebastian spoke, just before getting back up in the saddle with considerable effort; a groan.

“John. Marston. I, uhm...” Man whistled for his horse. Isaac already took on ahead. “I guess I’m sorry...”

Sebastian tried to keep pace with the boy. Marston kept quiet. “That all?”

Man came fast from behind: “Kinda... Okay. Well, I care about Arthur; he’s like a brother to me. And, uhm. That’s his kid, gotta watch out for him-”

“You ain’t even watching out for Jack!” Isaac shouted and his voice almost sounded like Arthur’s himself.

“I’m trying, Isaac!” John called back, but the boy only rode harder.

What was left of the ride was taken in silence and when reaching the fishing spot Isaac stood quiet minding his business. That John feller stood unnaturally away from the water’s edge, perched on a dirt mound. And he still managed to catch some decent smallmouth. But between the three of them Isaac felt professional. And angry. In the way he reeled the fish in and threw the line out. Both of them noticed. The boy had tears streaming down his face for some time, wiped them with one hand while waiting for the next bite.

The golden hour rushed over them. Sebastian took a look at the clock: with all this he almost forgot he should be seeing Stefano again around 6PM. There was plenty time still.

“You should head back to camp.”

Isaac looked at him most heartbroken. John tried to escort the boy back but he jumped to hug Sebastian first. A pained huff came of him with that head pressed into his chest. He couldn’t resist though, returning the embrace. The kid missed his father, but he wasn’t him... He wasn’t meant to be a father...

“Take care, Isaac, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.”

“Will you, uh, swing by again?” John still didn’t know how to talk to him.

Sebastian bobbed his head, ‘cause all that depended on Arthur. What a thought to think that was...

The man was gone and Sebastian was to return to Stefano Valentini.

Mister Valentini picked him up in a stagecoach, as he always did, didn’t talk all the way to the manor. The house was overlooking the bayou and had a lavish garden. The sun didn’t set yet.

“Undress, darling, we’re going to be taking some photos in this glorious light. You’ll look stunning.”

“And the payment?”

“75$ like usual. Undress.” Harsh, as he got his camera and knives ready.

Sebastian did as asked, back turned from him, until he was demanded to.

“Lay down, Sebastian.”

He did, plainly. And Stefano measured him up and down.

“Your shoulder.”

“What about it?”

“It’s irritated. Turn so I can see it.” Sebastian turned on his side. “Head down. To the ground. That’s it...”

But it was missing something. It always did. But first came the flowers: white rose petals, sprinkled around him. Goosebumps rose on his skin.

“I like that, Sebastian~ Your body fears me in just the right ways.” He stepped back towards the tool stool, over his body, making him feel as if he lacked any power to oppose.

Sharp, the knife was lodged deep into his shoulder, right where he was before. He writhed and clenched his teeth-

Stefano stepped behind the camera. “Now take it out slowly, darling.”

Teeth bare, and huff with huff, inch with inch- the blade slid out of his mutilated right shoulder. Every time he stuck it in, it dug deeper, the curved tip grazed bone and clung to flesh, sending an electric shiver up his spine until his vision turned white and his body turned cold, then an almost mellow pain as his body heated up again, and the place stung, crawled like a hornet’s nest. Blood dripped down his bare chest, onto the pavement. And Stefano kept encouraging him with words that might have almost felt sweet.

Almost out. Unbearable. Unbearably slow. His entire body trembled under the sensation, muscles stiff and sore. He twists to pull the knife laying on his underside-

A boot to his gut.

The knife falls on the pavement with a clink.

The boot turns Sebastian; pins him on his back. Stefano sits on top of him, his cock is hard under tight pants.

“Agh-”

“How dare you, Sebastian~” The camera’s in his hands, still snapping pictures of him.

But it wasn’t enough. Stefano’s gloved hands mess with his hair, roll his head around as if it’s a toy. Threads fall in his eyes, exhales come heavy onto cobblestone; he can taste dirt.

“Good- Very good.”

Then his chin is tilted up.

“Look at me, Sebastian-” He doesn’t. “Merda! Look! At me!” Fingers clench in his jaw, but that pain he doesn’t feel. “I can’t say I don’t taste your defiance, but it’s not what I’m looking for-”

For one second he wondered if Arthur was someplace where someone made an equal mess out of him. Torture. Like that Irishman said... Gaze returns to Stefano, eyebrows knitted.

“Ohh~” Stefano moaned, and grinded once onto his body. “Superbo, Sebastian- Superbo~”

Then he got up, satisfied, moaning to himself.

“Thank you, darling. I’ll have the Doctor stich you up and bandage the wound. I’ll be gone a few days. That should give it enough time to heal a while. Oh, Lucian, hand him the money please.”

A day, two. No word. And Arthur didn’t leave his mind. But he didn’t remember that man’s face all that well, long hair, a thick beard that went all the way up his cheeks. Green eyes. His voice, but still he couldn’t place exactly how it sounded, and it got lost between the voice of his own thoughts. A shame, because he wanted something to remember him by. No, not the medallion. Saint Sebastian. That should have been him, but what a saint Sebastian wasn’t... A cruel title. But he remembered the deer – he had that vest made. Arrows almost in unison.

It costed him 40$ to commission that pen, but he did. A ballpoint, copper, with two arrows engraved, so he won’t forget.

The pain got worse the more he moved. He should be lying down, instead he got drinks at the bar inside his saloon. He still had about 30 something dollars left of those bills Arthur gave him. For whiskey-

“Hey!” He almost didn’t mind the commotion when the doors slammed.

“Sebastian!”

“Isaac?...” it was hard to get up.

It was the kid; he swam through the crowd and with no explanation dragged him outside. Heart began to drum inside his chest. What happened... It was Arthur.

“Call your horse.” The boy had no patience for him, ‘cause he climbed up and spurred already.

Sebastian was lucky Ashley, his trusty steed, was part Arabian, and wasted no time bolting after the boy. He rode with one hand, the other stuck to his shoulder to drown out the throbbing that picked up with each thud of the hooves on the ground. He asked no questions; Isaac said nothing.

“When’dchu even slip by!?” the Irishman was first to greet them when he saw Isaac coming back with Sebastian, still clutching the seams of his coat.

But Isaac had one goal and one goal only: bringing Sebastian to Arthur’s bedside. That left shoulder... A shotgun blast the size of a fist, septic.

“Isaac-” voice was weak. “Isaac, com’ere.” Boy knelt down, wrapped his arms around his father. Arthur stroked the boy’s hair. “Com’ere... Isaac. I wouldn’t of left you alone...” Hand keeps stroking, despite the obvious pain in his face; eyes looked up at Sebastian as if in doing so came some great realization.

The middle-aged woman that was sitting on a chair there, handed it to Sebastian. Arthur kept muttering soft coos to his son. It was the third time he saw this man down; each time even closer to death...

“We have to leave.” Isaac stands up, announces with conviction beyond his years, despite the sobs that thickened his voice. “We’re gonna leave.”

As if he heard that Dutch approached, hands up, defensive.

“You did this!”

“I didn’t know, Isaac...” He sounded penitent. “I’m really sorry, son. I- I made a mistake, I know that.”

“This cannot happen again!”

“It won’t, son.” The man had no intention of leaving.

“Give him some time, Dutch...”

Dutch bowed his head, nodded: “Rest up, Arthur.”

Isaac still stood, huffing, as if trying to be barrier between everything that was out there, Dutch included, and his wounded father.

“Isaac. Com’ere. Please.” Boy returned without hesitation. “C’mon up.”

The boy eyed Arthur up and down, then carefully pulled his legs over his father’s body, laying down, head nestled on the man’s good shoulder. The other arms moved almost mechanically to wrap around the kid.

“Need a blanket.”

Arthur puffed, shaking his head slightly.

“You brought ‘im to camp?”

“Yeah.” Isaac replied. “Thought you was with him.” Boy clings to the union suit.

“I’m sorry, Isaac...”

“It’s okay... It’s gonna be fine...”

Arthur pursed his lips and staggered out a sigh: “Yeah. Yeah it will, son...”

“We have to get out.”

“Yeah-” Gaze locked on Sebastian. He remembered the man’s words: there’s no getting out...

There gotta be. His chest became cold with a shiver, then too warm.

Sebastian knelt down, groaned doing so and decided, against better judgement, that he can put his hand next to Arthur’s. And Arthur took it, curled his fingers around Sebastian’s palm. And once again, against his better judgement, he remembered that darned medallion; snuck it underneath Arthur’s grip.

“Saint Sebastian. Protects soldiers I heard.” The Molly-house was near a church after all.

Arthur gave the single note of a laugh, before it turned to a wheeze:

“You wanna be my Saint or something?”

Sebastian dared smile: “Can’t say I haven’t thought about the possibility.”

Sarcastic tone’s left aside and with a squeeze of the palm: “Guess it ain’t all that bad then...”

He stayed the night by Arthur’s bed.

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 tag #isaac morgan #Sebastian Castellanos #gore warning #gore tw #whump

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faunusrights · 5 years

Text

‘AFTER THE FALL’ - LIVEREAD II

Part I (prologue to chapter three) here!

According to other people reading this alongside me, I have yet to even see the true extent of how, um... interesting some of the characterisations are? So, we can only do one thing: keep reading, even though I’m relatively sure the corpse of a sizeable moth was batted onto my copy :I

We’ve reached chapter three, and only now do I realise what a considerable chunk of the book that is? Blimey.

CHAPTER THREE

/gets six lines in /shuts the book

Look, I said I wasn’t gonna say it because we know I hate it but ughghghgh I hate canon Velvet soooooo muuuuuuuuuuch she’s SO boring I’m SO sorry but GOD--

Okay. Okay. Moving on. Yatsu is our narrator now so let’s hear how he sounds!

“Ash started crying and crying and crying--”

I know it’s inevitable that most names I picked for OCs will crop up elsewhere but... Ash? You tryna take Ash “Bottom Energy” Scarlatina away from me now? Can’t I have anything?

So, it was mentioned that apparently a recurring thing I’ll be seeing in this novel is Yatsu and Velvet being hitched together on the character development front, and honestly, I can see it happening here. They’re being made into one sort of unit and Yatsu keeps calling attention to that, which isn’t... great, ‘cause I’m kinda hoping we’ll see more individual development? But the current consensus is that It Ain’t Happening, so we’ll See, I Guess,

Okay, I love that Velvet makes spreadsheets on her Scroll. I deeply enjoy her making chats to keep track of stuff, because honestly what a mood that is.

‘Yatsuhashi whirled around in confusion, but Velvet was gone. He didn’t like losing sight of her; what kind of trouble was she getting up to now?’

Predictably, I don’t like Velvet being babies in any sense of the word, but I do like that Yatsu’s first worry is what trouble can she possibly fucking cause now? Velvet and her high chaos energy, whomst I Adore,

Also what the fuck is a breadfruit.

‘Professor Greene’s Stealth and Security class--’

UGH I wish we knew more about the classes they took in Beacon. Do you know how hard it is to write an AU in which the Fall of Beacon never happened and having to pull classes outta your ass? It’s HARD, Y’ALL,

Yatsu’s Semblance is... making people forget things? That’s. Weird but alright??? Sure??? Whatever???

Me, every time Velvet snaps: why is it I only get the Velvet I’m after when she’s being such a bi-- oh wait I have a type sorry continue as you were,

But actually God I miss chibi!Velvet pour one out for the cancellation y’all

“This is bad,” Yatsu said sadly.

Me to myself: I know it’s not good writing I know and you know but don’t say anything just move on--

Okay before I move on, I’m definitely seeing a lot of that Yatsu/Velvet hitching, and makes me Nervous because I love Yatsu and I love Velvet but I also love them separately so I’m holding out hope that they get split up at Some Point because they really have been written together pretty much the whole way, huh?

CHAPTER FOUR

OKAY CHAPTER FOUR LET’S GO LET’S GO

It’s Fox time, and we’ve got an introduction to Copper, Fox’s mentor (someone mentioned it’s totally a 'The Fox and The Hound’ reference). And-- ah, he’s dead. That was quick.

‘Velvet sometimes let her feelings get the best of her, Fox thought.’

You think that’s bad? You should meet murpverse!Velvet, that bitch has never held a thought in her head for more than five seconds.

I’ll confess I’m now reading pretty far ahead before I have any commentary of note. I’m enjoying Fox’s narration far more than anyone else’s by a pretty considerable margin, and it’s probably ‘cause Fox -- despite saying literally nothing in canon -- saw a lot of people reach the same conclusion to his character? So this one is much easier to settle into. Also, maybe it’s ‘cause he was such a blank slate that the writing works better for him. I dunno.

Story-wise: Edward is-- okay, actually, side-tangent: Edward? We seem to really jump in and out of the colour scheme, huh? Anyway, Edward’s a shady mfer and LET VELVET DO SHIT ON HER OWN!!!!!! LET HER BE A DUMBASS OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!

‘That was the last time he;s underestimate [Velvet].’

Told ya, dipshitte.

Ooh, everyone’s Angery about Everything. Seems like the Mood Bombs are also more passively AOE than just being a Sudden Boom, because everyone’s got a MUCH shorter temper? Then again, mine would be Non-Existent in a desert to begin with, so maybe they’ve all got sand up their butts. Also, Gus is to blame for the Mood Bombs anyway! That’s a big F, kiddo.

CHAPTER FIVE

Flashback to the dance!

Awh, Ruby made her own outfit and cape. Li’l seamstress! Oh, dang, do you think Summer taught her? Or, at least, showed her how her cape was made? Aaaaa--

Lien remains... weird. I thought it’d be closer to a currency rate like Yen to the dollar (so thousands are worth much less), but the implication here is that twenty Lien is more like $20? The currency here is very weird and even I’m at fault for flip-flopping on it, but I honestly expected it to be more like Yen. Huh.

Coco likes Ruby’s outfit look at that senpai GO.

Oh, okay, so they met at the dance? For some reason, I thought they’d already been acquainted? I thought they mentioned that team CFVY were away in the show (and therefore knew them at least in passing) but apparently not.

Okay, so Coco’s dialogue is... weird? I’m not totally down for the voice the author’s chosen to give her, and the more I see of it the more I’m starting to notice it. That said, I can’t believe Coco has reeled off Ozpin’s whole speech for Ruby. I’d have forgotten three words in.

Still jumping back and forth on Coco’s dialogue. I’m not sure if I like it. Moving on.

Weiss is Big Bitch Supreme, I see. This flashback is striking me all wrong for some reason, but I cannot for my life of me say why.That said, Weiss unironically saying besties is the funniest thing I’ve read all week, so there’s that.

UGHHHHHHHHHHHH TIME FOR VELVET AND RACISM UGHGHHGHGHHHHGHGH IM GONNA GO GET LUNCH FIRST--

WAIT BLAKE’S THERE

WAIT NO I’M GETTING FOOD FIRST EVEN IF BLACK VELVET IS RIGHT THERE--

Okay I ate too many calories and walked my dog let’s do this before I have to take said dog to the groomer. On that note, I’m like halfway through the book already? This really is short as heck.

“You had something to say to me?” Velvet asked. The boy clamped his mouth shut.

Do ya? Bihh.

Also I LOVE that highlights from the initiation are playing so that Blake literally looks a thousand times more intimidating. I wish we’d seen more of that kinda thing in the show, with RWBY being the new hotshots and the dynamic they had with Beacon as a whole. But that would have involved not blowing Beacon up to fuck and then having the writers go ‘uh, what do we do now?’ so what the hell do I know.

OOUGH THIS BLACK VELVET,,, HHH,,,, MURPHY’S OTP IS HERE,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

“What should we do with him?” [Blake] looked at Velvet.

Kill him... and then... kiss....................................

“I don’t believe in fighting prejudice with violence,” Velvet said.

I wish y’all could have heard the sound I made at that. Canon Velvet you’re just so... soggy bread about this.

Blake shook her head. “that’s not how we deal with people like him where I come from.”

Blake yr so HOT... hey you should teach Velvet how you deal with people like him and then kiss. That said, are they talking about Menagerie there? Or the Fang? If it’s Menagerie, that’s even funnier because I love the idea of an idiot running their mouth and then having five families and a baby wail on them.

Blake hates dog-ears in their books. Bad news, asshole, it’s the BEST way to mark PAGES bookmarks are for the UPPER CLASSES who don’t realise BOOKS are TOOLS of EDUCATION--

Anyway. Moving on-- YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG.

Yang beat the assholes up anyway I love her!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE HER!!!!!!!!!

CHAPTER SIX

Back with Velvet. Blessing or curse? Who knows.

Edward and Gus make for an. Interesting duo. This plot hasn’t captured my interest crazy well, and if I didn’t know this was RWBY and such I’d probably pass on it ‘cause it’s pretty... eh, but I do like their Semblances and this could’ve been a pretty decent side-plot thing in the show! Such as in My Hero Academia with, uh, whats-his-name... Eraserhead. I dunno. I’m thinking this was a good idea that hasn’t had enough space to breathe.

Emotions are Flying High and Whomst will be the first to crack like Egg? I am liking the method of raising tempers because everything’s a little sloppier and unpredictable! Also, that’s the end of chapter si-- what? Wait, chapter six was only ten pages? Yeesh.

For all in-tents and porpoises, I am tryna keep track of OOC moments, but having everyone be out-of-sorts is making is pretty hard to track. Rip.

CHAPTER SEVEN, I GUESS?

We’re with Yatsu again, and he’s talking about his Semblance to... make people forget shit! I still don’t know why this is his Semblance, or the use of it anyway, but whatever! I’m in this cart and the horse ain’t stopping until M+K says so!

I’m with Velvet here; why is she constantly being relegated to the backseat? Coco needs to fuckin’ get her shitte together on this front. Even Fox said earlier than he has to stop underestimating her, but they’re still doing it now.

OH MY GOD THERE’S A GRIMM JACKALOPE??? Holy shit I’m losing all of my marbles shouldn’t these guys have, like, other names????????????? No??? Okay!!!!

Battle scene. I’m not hot on combat in writing because I find it. Kinda boring. But it is what it is so I’m speed-running it.

And so ends chapter seven. I’m gonna stop here because. I want to! I feel like this story is very short and it could’ve already had more to it than this faffery in the desert, but that’s just me!!!!!! I guess!!!!!!!!!!! Next time: another flashback to the goddamn dance.

#after the fall #after the fall spoilers #rwby #liveblog #liveread

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javis-beretta · 6 years

Note

hi if ur taking requests could i get a race x reader with a brooklyn girlsie who’s spot’s best friend & second in command which mean spot’s super protective over her?

this is my first time writing race in the canon verse so go easy on me (and i’m not sorry that it got so long). also, this is my first request so y e e t. enjoy! (daisy is ur newsies nickname btw)

Race Higgins was not a feelings kind of guy. Crutchie, with his ever-hopeful smile and bright, optimistic eyes? He did feelings. Jack, with his pretty girlfriend and heart-on-his-sleeve love for his boys? He did feelings. Race did not do feelings. So, why did his heart get all – eugh – fluttery when you walked into the lodging house, with a message for Jack? Why did he lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling and picturing you, with your twinkling eyes and your ever-present smirk, lying there next to him?

Race was also horrible at keeping secrets. But, you, he was pretty sure, were worth it. There wasn’t anything much to tell, anyway. He met you at the rally, standing off to the side while Spot Conlon shone in the spotlight. There was something about your stance, your crossed arms and straight back, that looked familiar. Maybe, it was because he knew how it felt to stand away from the spotlight, and to be proud of it. He had been Jack’s second-in-command until Davey’d come along, so he knew that look in your eyes. It was challenging, but certain. It said that you had faith in Spot, in the same way Race trusted Jack with his life. There was also a flower, stubbornly unwilted, tucked behind your ear and sticking out from under your cap.

That night was the first time he talked to you, too. His feet had drifted over to you, before he could stop himself, and he searched for something to say. You looked him over quickly and beat him to it.

“You’re from Manhattan, ain’t you?”

He nodded dumbly.

“Be honest with me, are your boys serious about the strike?”

He nodded again, finding his voice this time.

“We been hurt too bad to not be serious about all this.”

It was your turn to nod.

“This ain’t just a strike about us, no more. It’s about all of New York. There’s kids getting hurt all over. Someone needs to look after the little guys.”

He surprised himself with his own words. He hadn’t realised how much the strike truly meant to him until then.

You grinned, satisfied.

“Well, alright then. I’m Daisy,” you motioned to the flower in your hair and then stuck out a hand to shake. He met your eyes.

“Race.”

The first time he hugged you was after Manhattan had won their strike. You were both caught up in the excitement of it all. It wasn’t your first strike, but it was the first that carried the winds of change for all newsies with it. He was standing next to you and when Jack yelled their success, you leapt on him in pure joy. The music in Medda’s theatre couldn’t hold a candle to the melody of your laugh and he was certain that nothing could be prettier than your smile.

There was something between the two of you, something that pulled you together like magnets, even after those firsts. Neither of you had any idea what it was, but it felt decidedly unique. You had come to an arrangement.

Every Thursday night, just after sunset, when all the newsies were going to play cards or bet on the horses, the pair of you would meet at the point where the Brooklyn Bridge ended, and Manhattan began, and, there, you would sit and talk. There wasn’t anything scandalous about it, but it was understood that this was secret. Your relationship, friendship or whatever it was, was something that you kept to yourselves. Neither of you talked about it, but you knew that as good as Brooklyn-Manhattan relations had been since the strike, this something between you would make all of that a messier. Especially, since neither of you even knew what it was.

Race found himself telling you secrets that he didn’t know he was keeping. He told you stories about his long-gone father, or the way his mother looked when she smiled. You told him things, too, about the week you had spent in The Refuge and the way Spot had broken you out. The pair of you sat and talked and sometimes, when he made a stupid joke, you’d punch him lightly on the shoulder. Sometimes, when your voice got choked up talking about the little kids you’d almost lost, he’d reach over and hold your hand. He’d squeeze it once, twice and let go. There was always a look in your eyes, like maybe you wish he’d hold it for longer.

Your arrangement worked with the same regularity that bells in the city rang. You’d saunter up to him, give him a too-quick hug, and you’d sit down on the edge of the bridge, with your legs hanging over the side. You’d talk for hours and, when the moon was high in the sky, one of you would get up, and say, “Same time next week?”

Sure, he woke up groggy on Friday morning, but he looked forward to his time with you all week. He’d listen to the boys, storing up stories and jokes that he knew you’d like.

The pair of you worked like clockwork, which was why he felt nauseous when you didn’t show up that night.

He waited for what felt like ages, figuring you were probably busy talking to Spot, or sorting out some good-for-nothing kids who were giving you and yours some trouble. The longer he waited, the more his mind began to race. You wouldn’t do this to him, something had to be wrong for you to miss your moment together. Still, there was that doubt in the back of mind. You were probably just bored of him. You’d forgotten or found something – maybe, someone – more important. Girlsies were few and far between, but pretty girlsies, with kind smiles and uncompromising eyes, who didn’t need anybody but themselves to survive on the stinkin’ streets of New York? Those were near impossible to find. Boys like Race came easy, though, so he figured you must have got caught up in something better.

He walked back reluctantly, still somehow hoping that you hadn’t forgotten. He slept uneasily, wondering what could have possibly kept you away. On Friday, the more he thought about it, the surer he became that you meant to miss the meeting. He thought about the week before. Maybe, he had hugged you for a moment too long when you were leaving. Maybe, he teased a little too meanly. Maybe he smelled. Either way, he was almost certain that something about him had to be unappealing.

“Hey, Elmer, you heard about that girlsie in Brooklyn?”, his ears perked up a little at Albert’s words.

“Yeah, heard she got into a fight or somethin’ with some guys from Queens who were giving some Brooklyn girls some trouble. I heard it didn’t go so good.”

Race’s heart was pounding, and, without thinking, he jumped up from his bunk. He didn’t even bother masking the concern in his voice.

“What girl? D’you know her name?”, he said, with a hand on Elmer’s shoulder.

“Nah, sorry,” he gave Race an odd look.

“She definitely rolls with Spot, though,” Albert said, frowning at Race.

Before either of them could ask what was wrong, Race was out of the door. Girlsies were few and far between, but girlsies who’d get themselves into trouble protecting others and rolled with Spot Conlon? There could be only one girlsie like that.

He ran most of the way too Brooklyn, with his hat in his hand and his heart in his throat. His nausea the day before was nothing compared to the turning of him stomach as his feet pounded the pavement. Some Brooklyn boys gave him odd looks as he thundered through their turf, but none of them were old enough, or ranked high enough to stop him. He found the Brooklyn Newsies Lodging House easy enough, and breathlessly pushed open the door.

The first person he recognised was Spot, who stepped aggressively towards the door, as soon as Race stepped through it.

“Anything I can help you with, Manhattan? Is your Cowboy startin’ another strike, or something?”, he sneered.

“Uh, no, I,” Race trailed off, looking around the room, desperately. His eyes caught on you, with a blue eye and a bandage around your forehead. One of your arms was in a sling and the other was wrapped around a little girl’s shoulders and, for the first time since he’d known you, there was no flower in your hair. Your head snapped up as you heard Race’s voice, and you saw him moving towards you. Your feet were carrying you towards him before you could stop yourself.

“Hey, where d’you think you’re going, Manhattan?”

Suddenly, you remembered Spot. He was your best friend in the world and the only one who could get away with thinking that you needed looking after.

“Spot, he’s a friend, don’t worry about it.”

The Brooklyn leader looking at you, incredulously.

“A friend? From Manhattan?”

You nodded.

“I met ‘im at the strike. He’s, uh, just here to talk. Sorry, I forgot that he’d be coming by.”

You glanced between Race’s wild blue eyes and Spot’s concerned brown ones.

“A friend from Manhattan?”, he repeated. “Well, what are ya thinkin’ bringing him here? And, to talk? What else would you be doing with a kid from there?”

“Spot, I gotta sort some stuff out with Race. How ‘bout I talk to you about this all tonight, yeah?”

Without waiting for answer, you grabbed Race’s arm and dragged him out the door, and into the moonlit street.

“What the hell are you doing here?”, you whispered harshly, all too aware that everyone inside was probably listening to whatever you had to talk to a Manhattan boy about.

“What the hell am I doing here? What the hell are you doing getting beat up by assholes from Queens? I thought you might’a been dead or somethin’!”

His voice was louder than yours, and you could see his eyes brimming with tears. You realised that you were still holding tightly onto his arm. Your eyes softened, and he spoke again, a whispering this time.

“I-I thought somethin’ really bad could’a happened to you.” His voice got impossibly lower. “I know how some guys treat girlsies.”

He looked at you with those wide blue eyes, waiting for a reply.

“I-It’s nothin’,” you hoped he didn’t hear your voice shake. “Some asshole was roughing up these little girls, who ain’t done nothin’ wrong. Somebody’s gotta look out for the little people, right?”

He took your face in his hands, holding you gently, as if you were some fragile thing.

“You swear you’re okay?”

You nodded, dumbly, looking young and about as feeble as he felt when he first met you.

“You should see the other guys,” you joked. He didn’t laugh.

“I’m sorry I didn’t show up yesterday.”

He suddenly realised how near he was to you and took a small step back, scuffing his shoe on the pavement, and glaring at the ground.

“Wasn’t your fault. Sorry I stormed into your lodging. Spot looked ready to kill.”

“I don’t blame ya. If something had happened to you, I’d probably book it to Manhattan, too. And Spot’ll get over it.”

Race looked up, brilliant blue eyes locked on yours.

“What’s he got to get over? I’m a friend from Manhattan, nothin’ to worry about,” he chuckled wryly at his own words, sounding half-bitter.

This was dangerous territory. You took a step nearer to him.

“You ain’t just a friend, Race. I figured you knew that.”

“Well, I know that I like ya, but we ain’t never talked about being more than friends.”

“Then let’s talk now. I think I’d like an excuse to swing by Manhattan more often.”

He grabbed your face gently, and his lips were on yours. Your eyes screwed shut and you felt warmth washing over your body and, after too short a moment, he pulled away.

“I, um, how’s this gonna work? Us, I mean, if there is an us.”

His eyes searched yours.

“Brooklyn and Manhattan ain’t so far away, really. We’ll figure it out.”

After promises to see each other sometime sooner than next Thursday, and a couple more stolen kisses, you and Race reluctantly parted ways. You pretended not see the little jig he did as he walked home.

You must have been outside longer than you thought, because when you opened the door to the lodging house again, most of the kids were asleep in bed and Spot was standing with his hands on his hips, glaring at the door.

“A friend from Manhattan, huh?”

His voice was low and yeah, you thought to yourself, you were definitely in for it.

Spot’s scowl softened a little when he saw your smile.

“I’m paying him a visit tomorrow. Gotta make sure he’s good for you.”

Your smile somehow brightened even more, and you wrapped Spot in a quick side hug.

“He’s definitely good for me.”

“Yeah, well. He better not come by the lodging again. I’m already tired of his stupid face.”

That night, you and Race fell asleep with matching smiles on your faces. He knew that in the morning he’d have to tell Jack that he was with a Brooklyn girl and deal with all that came with it, and he knew that Spot Conlon was probably already planning his death, but he didn’t mind too terribly. He thought of the feeling of your lips on his and the look on your face when he pulled away. No, he didn’t mind facing anything at all, as long as he had you.

#race higgins x reader #newsies x reader #newsies: the musical #newsies fanfiction #kay writes stuff!#keep requesting pls ily

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cannibalisticshadows · 6 years

Text

Nightcall (2/2)

[ao3 Link] . [Part One]

Megamind drops out of the media. Though the media doesn’t drop him.

The spike in his frequent fights with Metro Man has done a complete 360, much to the relief of the locals and to the disappointment of tourists. The news and media alike have leaped onto his sudden change like scavengers to fresh offal. Talk of his recent rendezvous, or lack thereof, are on everyone’s mind.

“He’s a maniac,” some talk-show host said into the speaker, hunched over a desk looking quite aggressive. The screen of the television baths the blue alien in a dull electronic glow illuminated his reflective eyes. He frowns at the person but having no good point to disagree. He’s just offended someone would be so bold to jump into the obvious.

“He’s a maniac, and Metro Man has been taking his sweet-ass time in trying to bring this alien-fuck down. Sure, sure, all-righteous and no-killing and what not. I’m sorry but he’s just pious.” Not just ballsy, but controversial. “My only guess as to why Megamind has abruptly vanished like a phantom is because our city’s hero finally grew a pair and kicked his skinny blue ass into the next life. And by God will none of us miss him. Look at what a shit-show he’s turned this city into—“

Megamind turns the TV off by throwing the remote so hard that it shatters the screen.

Sighing, he crawls out of his little nest of blankets and decides it’s time. He’s been procrastinating enough; he’s done nothing for the past two weeks and it’s getting to his head.

His plan to tell Roxanne started out sounding like the only resort to fixing him and his dumb extraterrestrial make-up, but he’s been pushing it off since he got home the last time he broke out of prison. Who knew he could really raise some hell by simply doing nothing.

Roxanne has made few appearances on television since her last kidnapping. Sadly enough, due to his absence, she had little to do (at least, to the public eye). She was the main reporter, focusing on Metro City’s star inhabitancies. Metro Man had nothing much to do besides helping little old ladies or getting cats from trees—not worthy of making an emergency announcement on the news.

And since he hasn’t seen her, he’s going into such a stump he’s made several near attempts to just show up at her place with no spray. How would she respond?

Well, he’d find out tonight.

He filled the invisible car up with his home-made energy source, making sure it wouldn’t run on empty. Tonight he was going out, far enough to reach the boonies.

And he wouldn’t be alone.

Megamind, unsure of how she’d react but knowing this would be practically life or death for him, grabbed a few essentials. The de-gun. Knock-out spray. Rope. You know. The usual. This had to go as smooth as possible for him to get serious with her, to assure her he’d never bother her again as long as he got this off his chest so he could wallow in misery with a peace of mind.

So, making sure she’s home with the affirmation from one of his spy-bots, Megamind packs up his things in the car and zooms out of the Lair before Minion can so much as ask “Where are you going, Sir?”

When he gets to her building, he uses a brainbot to fly him up to her balcony. She never locks it (Oh, Roxanne, I do question your sanity sometimes), so when he pushes the glass doors open, he enters a relatively quiet domain.

The lights over her tiny kitchen are on, illuminating her one-person apartment. Sniffing, and catching the remnants of her perfume, he follows it until—

“Mega—“ Before he gives her time to even finish saying his self-given name, he whips around and gives her a reasonably large dose of spray. She gasps, eyes roll up, and her body drops in a dead weight. Flinging out an arm he catches her, unable to keep his hungry eyes from the expanse of her pale, bare neck. Megamind splays his fingers across her bare, marveling at seeing her for the first time in weeks. It’s been too long.

Tonight she’s wearing civvies. A pair of dark wash skinny jeans and a white peasant blouse with little red and blue flowers along the neck and sleeves. She’s missed a barber appointment, he thinks, as her hair is exactly two centimeters longer than usual. Her hair’s also a bit damp, curling ever so slightly at the very ends. She not wearing makeup, either, letting him see all of her little brown freckles dusting her cheeks, like little stars in a milky white setting. He licks his lips.

Megamind ties her wrists and covers her mouth with a cheap duck tape. He’s never taped her mouth shut before, but for once he doesn’t want her screaming or complaining. And despite every Hollywood movie where the bad guy tapes the victim’s mouth shut, it’s very possible to remove it without the use of hands.

He carries her out bridal style, whistling for the brainbot to bring him back to the car. Once on the ground, he tucks her into the passenger seat and pulls the belt on, all before getting in himself.

And then he drives. He drives for a long time, content for the moment to sit in silence beside the soft rumble of the car’s engine.

Swerving through Metro City’s night traffic, the city lights gleaming in this never sleeping place, he keeps his head low as he goes, so stressed he finds himself clutching the wheel so hard it threatens to snap. The leather of his gloves scrunches.

They (he; she’s still knocked out) drive out of the midnight city into the rolling countryside, past the lake and past the forests. Lush green hillsides and vast farm lands. He can hear the road scratch under the car tires as asphalt turns into gravel and dirt.

After about forty minutes of driving, he can tell Roxanne is beginning to stir. Quickly, he pulls up beside a huge oak tree in the middle of no where, and void of another living soul for miles.

Well. There is a cow outside but it’s like, ten feet away minding its own business.

As the car comes to a stop, he turns the key and all is instantly quiet.

With a soft grunt, Roxanne squirms in her seat and consciousness slowly comes to. He doesn’t watch her, choosing to star at his bony knees and twiddle his thumbs. All he can hear is her movements, and his own rapidly beating heart.

“M…Mmm?” Her eyes slowly open, blinking in the dim atmosphere. Her eyes then open wider, and she looks around for the usual sights of a kidnapping. Seeing as they’re only in the car, and her mouth is taped, she abruptly begins to struggle.

“Wait!” He says frantically, trying to calm her like one would do for a wild horse. “It’s okay! This isn’t a kidnapping! Well, technically it is but it’s just us—“

“MMM!?” She starts to work her mouth through the tape in earnest, tongue visibly trying to lick at the stickiness.

“Please, wait! This is—I just want to tell you something. Something… important. I promise on my ancestors that you have full permission and more to beat me outside but… please. Just listen to me. Please, Miss Ritchi.”

Her struggling stops, and she turns to him with a suspicious glare. He bows his head, flushing in shame. She hates me.

Though she’s trapped him under an intense stare, snaring him more than he had with her, Roxanne goes still as if awaiting for whatever stupid thing he’s got to say to her.

“I… want to apologize, for my behavior two weeks ago. It was unforgivable.”

“Mm.”

“But—I… I…”

She glares harder. Ashamed of himself, he turns his stare to the dashboard.

“I love you.”

He doesn’t look up to catch her reaction, but she doesn’t respond verbally.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” He bangs his forehead against the steering wheel with each confession, feeling all the pint up emotions in him pouring out like water from a broken dam. It burns his insides with glorious relief and bittersweet shame all at once. Yet it keeps flowing. “And I’m so, so sorry. It’s—not my choice, Miss Ritchi. I can’t help it. My b-body…Ah—s—“ he stutters, so anxious it’s close to making him piss himself. He can feel it claw at this throat, threatening tears. “My species… we d-don’t have crooches, like a human. We… fall in love. Hard. And once. Only once. Once and only with one person. And that’s it. We mate for life, like doves. Or beavers. Wolves. I-It doesn’t matter. But once the relationship is formed that’s it. Cheating or finding a second love if the other leaves or dies is purely an earthly concept. My own p-parents, they—they only had eyes for each other. Sex or romance wasn’t even a concept I understood before I met y—…. I didn’t chose you, Miss Ritchi. I didn’t want this to happen. You don’t deserve this. I’ve already turned your life into a living hell, and for that I cannot apologize enough, even onto my grave. My transgressions are unforgivable. Yet, even being here on Earth I cannot…. There is no place for me. My planet, it’s… I’m all that’s left. And Minion. I didn’t think I could possibly imprint on anyone, much less a human, in this way. Yet… I am so sorry. It’s all my fault. I should have known…”

She’s fidgeting ever so softly beside him, he hears the crinkle of the tape.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he takes in a staggering breath, wet tears rolling down his sharp face and trickling on his lips. Salty like the sea.

He can’t bring himself to speak again in fear of weeping like a damn baby, but he feels as vulnerable as one in the moment. Weak. Childish. Pathetic.

The car falls into a silence, with his shaky breaths and a light breeze rolling against the windows. Other than that, it’s as quiet as a void. He glances at her from the corner of his eye, and sees her staring outside at the cow as if it had done something personal to disrespect her.

They sit in silence for a long time.

“I’m done,” he suddenly says.

He hears her move around again.

“I’m… I’m done. With this business,” he gestures to himself in general, to the car, to his gun. “I mean, there are things you don’t know about. Things I’ve done behind cameras. In the underworld. I’ve committed enough sins to last multiple lifetimes over. There’s blood on my hands. Miss Ritchi. Like you wouldn’t believe. And… I’m going to give it up. I can’t keep doing this…

“This such a archaic concept for me. Aah, uh, did you know… Of course you wouldn’t… The males, sometimes even the females, of my kind have to… catch the other sometimes. To express that they feel the same way. Avoids miscommunication or misplaced feelings. My own father… had to sneak into my mother’s household as teenagers to propose to her. It’s—I didn’t even realize it until recently I was courting you! Unconsciously! I’m—God I’m so sorry, Miss Ritchi. I just need to go away. “

She lets out a muffled sound again.

“I’m moving from this place,” he looks around at the vast farmland, the dot of the city in the distance, reflected by his rear-view mirror. “Romania sounds nice. I do a lot of business over there. Lots of forests and hillsides where there’s no one for miles. I can’t bother you or anyone out th—”

Roxanne suddenly spits.

Looking over to her in surprise, he sees she has vanquished the duck tape and has rolled it up in her mouth to spit it onto the dashboard. Turning on one hip, she faces him with such a glower it chills him to the very bone.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” she hisses.

He shrinks in his seat.

“Don’t you dare drop this on me and say you’re just gonna leave!” She yells, pulling against her taped wrists. He opens his mouth to let out a string of never ending apologies, but—she’s starting to cry, he sees, much to his absolute horror. Has he truly upset her this bad? He really was a monster.

“How—you stupid, stupid man,” she cries out, and suddenly—he sees her raise her arms, still taped by the wrist, and he honestly thinks he’s about to be hit when—

She loops her arms around his big blue head and latches onto his neck, yanking him closer and making him clumsily fall onto the stick shift as—

Her mouth is on his. So hard do their mouths come together that their teeth clack, faces clashing together he barely has time to process what’s happening. Gasping, hands wild and unsure in the air as she seemingly tries to suck his soul out, but—he knows what’s happening, mildly, but a bigger part of him is convinced he’s dreaming or hit his head.

The feeling of her lips touching his, though, is electrifying. Every nerve in his body begins to sing and scream all at once, overwhelming him with a sensation override. She moans and presses closer, both of them awkward and clumsy as they clutch at the other from opposite seats. Clutched… he feels his hand involuntarily grab her waist, holding his close but terrified he’s mixing the signals. It feels so so so good, though, and—

She pulls away before he can even realize he was responding back, albeit unsurely. Arms locked around his neck, he mentally curses himself for tying her up. But. It felt like the thing to do at the time.

“You listen to me you son of a bitch,” she viciously spats. “You come to my place, ten’o’freakin’clock at night, and tell me you love me only then to say you’re leaving? What the actual hell!?”

He attempts to pull back, hide in his shell, run away from her furious reprimand, but his neck is still trapped by her arms. Shit. Really a bad decision to tie her up. The alien’s prepared to say something, anything, to show how much of a lowly creature he is in her light, but all that comes out of his throat are choked warbles and whimpers. “I—“

She sniffles.

He meets her eyes in surprise to see two glassy blue orbs meeting his. Frantically, he try to console the weepy female by nervously patting her back. “Ah—M-Miss Ritchi—“

“You were such an A-hole,” she says, sobbing. “Megamind, for once you were actually cruel. It scared me.”

“Oh, oh my dear—No, no, my sweet, no! I wasn’t—“ he swallows. “I wasn’t trying to be cruel. I was just frustrated. With myself. With my instincts. I—if I behaved any less I would have made a fool of myself.”

“Well, you already did that by yelling at me, you cabbage.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“You made me feel like a whore the last kidnapping.”

He remembers that dress she wore. Wine red, rimmed in black. His... comment to it. Megamind bows his head and clenches his whole body. “I am sorry.”

“And you made me worry about you. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

Confused, he looks up at her. Roxanne then pulls at her arms and lets him go from between them. Gesturing with her wrists, he catches her drift and pulls out his trusted butterfly knife and whips it out, glad to have something to do with a tool he’s familiar with. Nothing else felt familiar; alien and strange.

As the plastic finally rips away, her skin safe from his sharp little friend, she wraps her hands around his neck and yanks him to her again. Eyes wide, he numbly feels her kiss him a few quick, consecutive times before—

She slaps him in the chest.

He’s nearly got a concussion from how bad the whiplash is.

“Is it true?” Roxanne demands. He’s unable to speak. “Is it true? Do you love m—“

“Yes. Yes, I love you. A million times over.”

This little woman shakes her head, eyes glistening with something he can’t begin to understand. He feels like he’s drowning, with a weight tied to his feet to prevent him to swimming to the surface. He can't breath. She then grabs onto his shoulders. Shaking her head again, she says, “Then don’t go to Romania. Don’t leave Metro City. This place is our-your home.”

“Miss Ritchi, I can’t… stay around you anymore,” his voice breaks. “I can’t without—“

Her lips are on his again.

Shocked, but rapidly trying to learn this new skill she’s apparently trying to teach him, he responds as best he can. Periwinkle blue to unpainted pink, their lips press against each other, seining the warmth and the wet of the other’s mouth. He once saw this activity between lovers an unsanitary and strange thing, but now he understands its meaning. His lips are quite sensitive, and this kissing sets his body to flame, scrambling towards something he can’t seem to catch.

When she pulls away, he follows her, not wanting this connection to end. A tiny bead of saliva snaps between them as their lips depart.

“For such a genius, you can be unbelievably dense.” She cups his face. “I love you Megamind."

What.

"God, I love you. And your behavior, this month—I thought you’d finally lost it. Or just got tired of me.”

His first instinct is to respond yes, yes he has lost it, completely and utterly, but—

“You—you what—“

Roxanne shakes her head again, this time smiling so wide that it nearly reaches her ears, all pearly whites on display for him. She lets him go, finally, letting him think straight. Which is bad because his brain runs in about five hundred directions. Blinking rapidly to disperse the tears in her wet lashes, she continues with, “I’m glad you told me this. Because—I was considering on moving as well.”

He jolts in his seat.

“I sometimes get job offers in other places. This time… I had an offer in Liverpool.”

“Leeverpul!? What’s can you find in Leeverpul?”

“I like the British accent. And it’s far, far away from here.”

Hapless, he stares at his knees.

“Hey,” she pulls him out of his stupor. “Look at me. That’s better. Now. That stuff you said about… imprinting on me? Is that true, too?”

“All of it,” he breaths.

Roxanne nods her head and leans back against the leather seats. “Then listen to me. I love you with all of my heart. I have for a long time, Megamind. So it hurt me, so, so much with how much of a dick you were suddenly turning into. You may as well have stabbed me in the heart.” He winces. “And then you just up and vanished. Gone. Everyone is talking about you!”

He can’t believe what she’s saying. It’s nothing like he ever imagined happening in any probable outcome of this. She… actually… returned his feelings? What??? What witchcraft is this!? He really must’ve bumped his head hard!

“I... know. I see the news. I see my lack of an appearance in the public eye has given you less work… Ah, are you sleeping better?”

She looks at him in confusion.

“You were always falling asleep.”

Roxanne lets out a loud sigh. “I know… I know…”

“Why.” It isn’t a question.

“I always thought you were just a bit ol’sweetheart that grew up on the wrong side of the law. I fall in love with you a little harder every time you goof around like that. I hate that you’re always destroying something or trying to start a fight, but it was a little endearing.” She lets out another loud exhale. “And then you started acting like I was shit under your shoe.”

“N—!“

She raises a hand, and he immediately goes silent.

"So I started drinking. Tried to drink the pain away. But that doesn't work," her voice breaks a bit.

He wants to bang his head against the wall.

“And I hate that you dragged me out here,” she motions toward the countryside. “You don’t have to ship yourself off to God knows where, but stopping the kidnapping would be nice. Even if it’s apart of your… culture.”

“Whatever-Whatever you desire," he swears reverently.

“What I desire,” she says, placing a hand on his knee, “is for you to take me home.”

He nods, expecting that answer.

“And I want you to come up with me. We’re gonna have a talk.”

“O-kay...?”

Suddenly she leans over again and presses his lips to his cheek. With his breath hitching, because its still a lovely, foreign feel to him, she adds, “And then I’m going to show you how much I love you, too.”

“W—“

“I know you, Megamind. I can see it in your face. Now. Take us home, sweetheart.” She kisses his lips again.

This time he knows what to do, and copies her actions better than before. It feels like fireworks.

He’s glad he told her.

#megamind #nightcall #megarox

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originaljediinjeans · 6 years

Text

The first time I saw The Avengers (2012):

I was recovering from my first real big fight with depression. Right at the start of the second semester of my sophomore year of college I had a huge emotional collapse. One of the reasons I survived was because of watching Iron Man, Iron Man 2, Thor, and CATFA with my roommates. But the main reason I survived was because they were some of the best girls in the world and I’m so glad that God sent them to me

The first showing I went to I went with a current roommate and one of her friends--he was my friend too by that time.

That was also my first time ever riding public transit. We went to the mall on the other side of town.

The second showing, I did go with two of the roommates from that last apartment. (Fun fact: another one of those girls went on Study Abroad to Spain and she got to see Los Vengadores in theaters like two days before it came out in the US. Can you say celosas!)

I had seen the previews but I had no idea that this movie would change my life, again. And that it would change the world.

I also already knew that the MCU had deeper themes, but I had no idea that I would get SO MUCH out of The Avengers

Characters that Impacted Me: Loki I wasn’t in fangirl love with him yet. That would wait until Thor 2. Maybe even later. But Loki’s speeches about human weakness sounded so much like the evil voices in my head that had plagued me the previous semester when I had questioned everything I cared about. Loki was Satan. And I quote his entire speech in Stuttgart: Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel. My mind was trying to rule me.

Clint Barton First thing, Loki uses the mind stone to take over Barton. He makes Barton do things he normally would never do. Kill people. Hurt people. Attack the people he cares about. For months I had struggled with inner thoughts that lashed out violently against every person I was attached to. And I was terrified of those thoughts becoming real. My OCD/Depression manifested my worst fears and wanted to make me into a person I was not. People say that Hawkeye got jipped in this movie but I disagree: he was my worst fears and my mental illness playing out on the big screen. And then he came out of it. And he saved the world.

(Maybe that’s the real reason I cosplay Natasha, because I hate it when people talk trash about Barton)

Natasha Romanoff Her first fight scene in the movie is so awesome. Good grief. I had seen Iron Man 2 but it wasn’t until The Avengers that Nat made an impression on me. It was the ‘Red in her Ledger” speech--that little show of vulnerability to manipulate Loki. Everything I had been through felt like “red in my ledger.”

I was really struck by her compassion: the empathy she expresses to Barton in recovery; her trying to keep Bruce from going Hulk and then warning the mechanics to get the heck away; her and Clint rescuing civilians in New York; and then telling Eric Selvig that what he had done wasn’t his fault.

Also, when I came out of the first showing I talked to my roommate about her like, what if she’s related to Anastasia because the last name, ya know? After a while I felt like that was kind of stupid. So I put that theory aside...until recently. Maybe not that recently.

Regardless of whether or not Nat is actual royalty, she has always been a Queen to me ever since

Phil Coulson Coulson was the first MCU character I ever obsessed over, but even then it was nowhere on the level I’ve been at with Bucky for the last...we’re going on five years now, I think. But he was just so cute and so nice and so funny and his death pained me a little. As soon as the #CoulsonLives movement came around I was converted. When I decided for personal reasons to not watch Agents of SHIELD it was hard. But then I got a great idea for my own #CoulsonLives story so the rest is history. It’s just he was such a friend to all the Avengers and he felt like my friend, too.

Bruce Banner It’s probably beating a dead horse to say this, but having a mental illness is like, well, living with the Hulk. It was this dark side of me that came out and it scared me. And it came out and it attacked me and it made me attack people. Sometimes it was like the Mind Stone controlling me, as I said earlier. But sometimes it was just blind rage. “That’s my secret, Cap: I’m always angry.” BOY I FELT THAT.

And I think it may have been as early as the next day but the next time I went to group therapy I told everyone about The Avengers (I was doing some kind of therapy 2-3 days a week. It was intense but I needed it and it helped). I told them about Clint and I told them about Bruce. I may have told them more. But I told them that the biggest superhero movie ever had made an emotional impact on me because I saw the characters acting out my mental illness experience onscreen and symbolically defeated it

"Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten." ~G.K. Chesterson/Neil Gaiman (Source)

And that’s how representation works folks: not just people who look like you but people who’ve been through what you’ve been through

I took “Love is for children” pretty literally the first time I saw it. I only shipped Clintasha later because everybody else on the internet was doing it. Even when I first started writing fanfic I had them dating. But, to be honest, I really like Clint having a family and having that tight platonic brother/sister relationship with Nat. Actually a lot cooler. And it fit better with my fanfic because my Jedi OC becomes Clint’s adopted cousin and it made more sense for Laura and the little Bartons to be part of that relationship russos what have you done to them

For a while after Avengers first came out, I shipped Cap with the Waitress. Maybe that’s who I should have shipped him with all along. But if you really think about it, him hooking up with a random waitress is a long shot. It makes even less sense than Sharon, if Sharon doesn’t make sense at all.

#personal #reminisces #the avengers #college #mental illness

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yiangchen · 6 years

Note

If there was one aspect (a certain character, a relationship, the plot of a season, etc.) of the 100 that you had control over (aside from Blarke), what would you choose and why? It can be something that's already happened in a previous season that you would change and replace with something else. Like, if you didn't like a certain storyline from a previous season or something. You can also pick a dead character and make it so they're alive. (yes im asking you your own question, i gotta know)

When I asked you this, I had a straight answer: the Blake sibling relationship. That relationship in seasons 1-2 means so much to me and I’ll forever be bitter with the gross direction it took in season 3 (and on).

Once I had more time to think about it though, I was considering picking season 3 in general (like you did), but since I’m in the process of rewriting season 3 already, I don’t wanna spoil any of my ideas for that fic (even though let’s be honest, I’ll probably never finish it. I’m at about 10,000 words rn and the plan is for it to be like 100,000.)

BUT ANYWAYS, since I’ve been so indecisive and can’t get any of my thoughts together, I figured I’d pick kind of a combination of the two in the form of a fic.

I’m working on one right now that would be perfect as an answer to this ask. I’m rewriting all of the Bellarke scenes (from 3x13 through s5 era) where they talk about Octavia but the abuse is addressed because Clarke knows about the beating in this AU.

However, I’m only halfway done with that one, so I decided on a fic I wrote a while back before I had tumblr. It diverges from canon in episode 3x09, specifically at the start of the Bellamy and Octavia scene where he meets her in the woods with a plan to save Lincoln (spoiler alert: she doesn’t drug him, and therefore, none of the other shitty stuff happens).

As Long As I’m With You, I’m Home

When Bellamy catches a glimpse of the dropship through the trees, he tugs on the reins, and his horse comes to a stop. Night has fallen, but moonlight filters in between the branches above his head, illuminating the place he used to call home.

Home.

The word flits through his mind. Being back here has the tension in his shoulders easing. His lips part, the space before him filling with light, and suddenly, the abandoned camp is alive once again.

Alive with the people who became his family.

Before landing on the ground, Octavia was the only family he ever knew. The decisions he made—the facade of the asshole he played—was all to keep her safe. Slowly though, he came to care for the rest of them too. Before he knew it, those kids were the steady beat of his heart. A family to fight for.

When Trikru threatened them, he worked alongside Clarke to do the best he could to keep everyone alive. For the most part, the 100 worked together, all in fear of the people who had speared one of them the very day they landed. Octavia though, she always had one foot in, one foot out, and Bellamy gets it. Because even though he sacrificed so much to protect her, he’d made mistakes. Mistakes she blamed him for.

He had never held any of it against her, and when the time came to let go, he had.

It had been the hardest decision he ever had to make, but they came out of it stronger. By giving her her freedom, it gave her the choice to come back when she was ready. And she did. For probably the first time in their relationship, she sacrificed something for him. Sacrificed being Indra’s second so that she could help him get out of Mount Weather.

It took some time apart, but they finally discovered what it truly meant to be brother and sister. Their relationship was healthier than ever.

That all changed when the Ice Nation killed 44 of their people.

Bellamy was tired. So tired of losing his people to the grounders, and just like that, it was like his relationship with Octavia regressed back to how it had been in the dropship days.

As if on cue, Octavia appears from across the camp riding in on Helios, effectively replacing the once thriving camp with dilapidated tents and charred earth.

Bellamy finds her eyes in the dark, and he feels his heart thump against his ribs. The last time he saw her, she was warning him of the ambush at Semet’s village, and even during the last few weeks before that, she had been understandably angry with him. At least from her side of things, that is.

He’s still not sure if he agrees with the things he’s done either, but he knows he’ll be damned if he lets Pike kill Lincoln, Sinclair and Kane. Through all this, all he wanted was to protect his people. He believed supporting Pike would do just that. However, if he’d known some of his own people would be sentenced to death, he can say without a doubt that he never would have followed Pike.

“I’m glad you came,” Bellamy says as Octavia dismounts from her horse and he does the same. She eyes him warily, glancing around a bit and searching the trees. “I’m alone, O,” he assures, shoulders sagging. “I’m here to help.”

Octavia finds his eyes again and lets out a breath. She almost smiles, crossing the space between them and tugging him into her arms. Bellamy is ready for her and he huffs out a breath of relief into her shoulder.

“I’m still mad at you,” she says, but she tightens her hold him.

Bellamy’s eyes close. “I’m sorry.”

Octavia pulls back, hands on his shoulders. “We can talk later.” She arches an eyebrow at him. “You have a plan, right?”

Bellamy nods. Octavia gives him a nod back and starts to head over to her horse before pulling him into another quick hug. Bellamy breathes out a laugh. “I missed you too, O.”

…

With the help of Monty, they create a diversion in Arkadia. He shouts into the radio, informing Pike and his guards that the prisoners have escaped. It’s not a lie exactly. Just the part concerning the exit they’re planning to use.

Meanwhile, Bryan runs alongside Pike, playing along and making sure he leads him and his guards astray. Miller and Harper keep an eye out for people who may stumble across the path Bellamy and the prisoners are taking to freedom, throwing in a few more frantic false leads into the radio every so often to keep Pike distracted.

Bryan takes the opportunity to duck away down a dimly lit corridor where he nearly runs into Monty on his way out of the control room. They meet up with Miller and Harper further down, and the four make a run for it, right behind Bellamy and the others.

Octavia is waiting for them outside the gates. The number of horses she’s got with her would be quite amusing if they weren’t running for their lives.

She lets out a breath of relief the second she makes brief contact with her brother, and then Lincoln. There isn’t time to waste though. The horses go to the sick Trikru first, and Lincoln snags the last one, wanting to lead his people out of there as soon as possible.

Kane, Sinclair, Miller, Bryan, Harper and Monty hurry off after them on foot. Octavia is turning to leave when she realizes Bellamy isn’t making a move to come with them.

“Bellamy, we have to go. Now.”

He shakes his head and swallows. “I have an idea.” Octavia opens her mouth to say something, but he beats her to it. “If I go back, he’ll think I’m still on his side, but if I leave now, there’s no way I’m getting back into this camp.”

“Or,” Octavia cuts in, “you come with me now and we get the hell out of here.”

“O, you said it yourself. We need to take him out. I couldn’t see it before, but this only ends one way.”

“No.”

“O—”

“I may be angry with you, but I’m not gonna let you risk your life like that. The second he figures you out, he’ll kill you.”

“I know, but I have to try. You gotta let me do this, O.”

Octavia gives him a look and arches an eyebrow, like you have got to be kidding me.

Bellamy sighs. I’m not.

Octavia purses her lips and swallows, finally relenting with a nod.

Bellamy nods back. “I’ll lead a search party at first light.” Octavia opens her mouth to say something, then closes it. Bellamy’s lips part as she turns to leave. “Octavia.”

She finds his eyes.

“Thank you,” he breathes. Octavia furrows her eyebrows. “For still caring if I live or die.” It’s the lamest attempt at a joke, and Octavia’s lips part. “Even after everything…” Bellamy purses his lips to keep them from trembling, eyes watery. Maybe he still believes that what he had to do was necessary, but it doesn’t mean he’s not beating himself up over it every day.

Octavia crosses the space between them and pulls him into a tight hug. “The day I don’t,” she says, voice wavering, “you can assume I’m no longer breathing.”

…

Bellamy’s plan works. He would have prefered to spare the lives of Pike’s guards, but the grounders enforcing the blockade took them all out during the ambush in the woods.

The more impertinent problem is that Arkadia has been taken over, so Octavia’s relief at seeing her brother unharmed is short-lived. They wouldn’t have known had it not been for Jasper and Clarke showing up in the rover, an unconscious, chipped Raven in the back seat.

Bellamy and Clarke barely have the chance to stop and stare at each other for a moment, lips parted, before Jasper is yelling at them to all get in the damn rover. They’d nearly been caught the first time, and he’s sure ALIE’s minions are already on their way, in pursuit of Raven because she knows too much. Given the look on Jasper’s face, Bellamy thinks twice about making a comment about how unsafe it is to cram nine people into the rover.

Clarke asks about Lincoln, needing him to take her to Luna once they save Raven. By now though, he and the sick Trikru are long gone, probably halfway to the sea on their way to hide out with Luna’s people.

Clarke swears and leans her head back against the headrest of her seat. Bellamy tracks the movement with a quick glance her away. He looks away before she notices, returning his eyes to the makeshift path through the woods.

…

Raven wakes suddenly and thrashes around several times as they drive, nearly managing to kick and punch her way out the window at one point. Bellamy drives relatively aimlessly, heading in the general opposite direction of Arkadia until they discover they need a wristband to save Raven.

By the time they arrive at Niylah’s trading post, everyone is quite relieved. It’s no secret that Jasper still blames Clarke for what happened at Mount Weather, and Bellamy had to cut in a few times to stop him from ripping on her.

Jasper questions him about this later, wondering how he’s cool with her coming back after all this time. His answer is plain and simple: that she’s trying to save Raven. Really, he just doesn’t want to think about it.

So he doesn’t. And neither does Clarke.

It seems all they’ve done recently is hurt each other, so they don’t talk about what happened the last time they were in the same room together. Instead, he does the best he can to shelter her from Jasper’s harsh words, gently tends to her wounds when Raven gets to her, and offers to take a turn with Raven.

Later, Clarke’s there to wrap his hand even though he’d already bandaged it himself. Really, it’s just an excuse to tend to him the way he had her. When he expresses doubt in his decisions lately, eyes watery, she tells him maybe there are no good guys.

They save Raven that same night, and are off again in the morning, heading towards the sea. This time when Bellamy glances over at Clarke, she manages a small, closed-lip smile. It’s still going to take them a little bit to heal, but he finds himself giving her one back.

Even though these last two days have been crazy, for the first time, he feels something loosen in his chest, and when he catches sight of his friends smiling and laughing in the back of the rover, that something in his chest feels a lot like hope.

#ask games #3x09 era canon divergent #canonverse #s3 #my writing #the blakes #bellarke #fanfiction #the 100

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starrbomb · 7 years

Note

Look i love you and shance is my jam so im telling you i am willing to die for aranged marriage shance or fake dating shance because those are my most favorite tropes in the entire universe. I hope you are not bored anymore i love you okay bye

I know you’ve sent this my way before, and before I was super hesitant to do this because of my writing ability, but you’ve been so kind in waiting for me to finally do something like this, so I’ll try my best todo is justice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lance may or may not be on the brink of an anxiety attack. Ok, he might be having it right now because finals were over. Which was great! No school, no tests, no homework. What isn’t good news is that he has to go home. And home is where his mother is. Expecting him. And his boyfriend that he’s been telling her about for months. A boyfriend that he does not actually have. That is why he is pacing back and forth in his dorm, rambling on and on about how much of a dead man he is when he gets home.

“Why don’t you just tell your mom that you two broke up? That happens all the time.” Hunk suggests. Pidge doesn’t miss a beat, adding on “especially with you.” Lance stops moving for a moment and gives Pidge an unamused glare. “This is serious guys! I told my mom that things were getting serious, I can’t just call her up and say we broke up. She’s going to ask what happened, and then my entire summer is going to be filled with her trying to pair me off with someone. Which is the exact reason I told her I had a boyfriend in the first place!”

Lance falls back onto his bed with a groan, just trying to figure out how to keep his mother from setting him up on ‘accidental’ dates with pretty much every gay, bi, or curious guy in their town. He’s glad that his mother is supportive of him, and is always trying to be helpful. But sometimes, it’s just too much. That’s why he told her that he already had a boyfriend, so that he doesn’t have to go through another summer being set up at any possible moment. He wasn’t expecting his mother demanding he bring his ‘great boyfriend’ with him for the first week of summer. He tried to make an excuse as to why his 'boyfriend’ couldn’t come, but his mother had already made up her mind and even started setting up the guest room for 'him’.

Thus the freak out. Since there wasn’t anybody to take home with him. Lance groans again even louder. Ready to just call his mother and tell her that he and his 'boyfriend’ broke up or something. That is, until he got the best idea ever. Lance shoots up and opens up his contacts in his phone. He kept scrolling through his phone, mumbling to himself how much of a genius he is, gaining even Pidge’s attention away from her computer.

“What are you doing Lance?”

“I think I figured out a solution to my problem! Aha!” Lance found the contact he was looking for and hits the call button. He holds the phone to his ear, hearing the ringing on the other line. The 3rd ring stops midway, interrupted by a disgruntled “yeah?”

“Hey Keith! Is your brother there?”

“Yeah?”

“Great! Can you put him on?”

“Ugh, fine, just make it quick.” Yup. The forever grumpy friend of their group.

“Lance you aren’t seriously asking Keith to pretend to be your boyfriend are you?” Pidge asks, getting Hunk to look away from his own packing looking at Lance like he just ate a ghost pepper. Again.

“No way. Like i’d ever ask mullet to be my boyfriend. Pretend or not.” He hears some grumbles on the line, and then another voice is speaking through the speaker.

“hey Lance. Keith said you wanted to talk?”

Lance returns his attention back to his phone, crossing his fingers as he talks.

“Yeah. Do you still have nothing to do for the summer?”

“Yeah, with Keith going on his cross country hiking trip, I’ve got pretty much nothing going on. Why?”

Lance takes in a deep breath, hoping to any gods that are looking down on him.

“I have a proposal for you…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lance drives into the driveway, making sure he doesn’t hit any of the other parked cars. He puts the car into park and looks over to his 'boyfriend’ Shiro. Trying to figure out how lucky he got when Shiro agreed to pretend to be his boyfriend for a week at his parents place. It might have been the promise of home cooked food and being able to get out of his and Keith’s apartment, but lance isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“So do you remember what we talked about on the way here? Do you want to go over anything before we do this?”

Shiro lets out a laugh, which surprisingly helps some of Lance’s nerves. “Yeah, I think I got it all. And if I forget anything, I’ll just look to you. But don’t you think this is going a bit far?”

“Once you meet my family, especially my mom, you’ll understand.” Lance retorts, watching Shiro laugh again as he steps out of the jeep onto the gravel drive way. Lance lets out a little chuckle himself and follows suit, walking towards the trunk to help get their bags out. He leads Shiro, who took most of the bags, up the porch to the door, and doesn’t even get to knock on the door before it’s flung open and large man wraps Lance up into a hug that could rival Hunk’s (not that Lance would ever tell him) and with a booming voice calls out “LANCE IS HOME!!!”. lance can’t help but laugh at his uncle Philippe, hugging back as best as he can.

As soon as his uncle puts him back down, he’s overrun with little children, all clambering to either hug him or look at Shiro like he’s some sort of wild animal. Once Lance is finally able to untangle himself from all of the tiny arms, he takes hold of Shiro’s hand, well more like his finger, and lead him inside the house. Navigating around all the aunts, uncles, brothers and sisters, Lance is able to get Shiro into the guest room with as minimal questions and prodding from his family as possible, but he can tell that Shiro has caught on as to why Lance quizzed him on their 'history’ the entire way there.

“Your family is definitely…”

“A lot?”

“I was going to say lively, but that works too.” Shiro huffs out with a chuckle, dropping the bags at his feet.

“Yeah, sorry about that, they just REALLY like meeting new people. Especially if it’s someone like a boyfriend or girlfriend. But if any of them get super weird or intrusive, just let them know and they’ll back off. Usually.” Lance reassures Shiro, knowing that he’s still a little uneasy about his prosthetic arm. Shiro gives him an appreciated smile and sits next to him on the bed. “Thanks Lance.” Lance looks up at Shiro, unable to keep his smile and his own appreciation out of his voice. “I should be thanking you Shiro, you are helping me dodge a huge bullet by being here.” Shiro looks to Lance and pats his hand on his knee. “Well I hope the food is as good as you proclaimed all the way here.” Shiro smiles and offers his hand to Lance, who takes it and leads them out of the room, back into the fray of noisy relatives and overexcited nieces and nephews.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lance wasn’t lying about the food, it was truly out of this world. Shiro scoops another spoonful of the homemade stir fry into his mouth, trying to pick out one voice from the other as everyone around the table chatters away with each other.

Lance wasn’t kidding about his family wanting to ask any question they want; they asked about pretty much everything about their make believe relationship; how they met, what their first date was, their first kiss, pretty much anything about their relationship. Shiro was very glad Lance drilled all of it into him during the ride there. A few of the kids had asked about his arm, but Lance would immediately redirects them to a game or something else, and helping Shiro if he ever needed to just take a break from answering so many questions. Lance just always seemed to know when to be there. God, Shiro does not regret pretending being Lance’s boyfriend. If only it wasn’t really pretending.

Ok. So Shiro had a pretty big crush on Lance. No big deal. It’s not like Shiro would ever tell Lance his feelings, or if Lance would ever accept his feelings. But if he could do this for Lance, than he would happily do it again.

“-iro?”

Shiro snaps out of his thoughts and looks over to Mrs. McClain who was sitting next to him. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh. Well, ask away.” Shiro gives her his best impressive smile, prepared to answer something about his and Lance’s relationship.

“How did you know you wanted to date my boy? What about him swept you off your feet?” Shiro could feel the blush grow rapidly across his face.

“Mom!” Lance almost screeches, gaining the attention of everyone else at the table. It grows increasingly quite as all eyes are on Shiro. “Shiro you don’t have to-”

“I guess, it was his jokes at first. I mean, yeah they were pretty cheesy, but they always helped lighten the mood. And then it was the smaller things that no one really notices. How he will always put his friends first; how he’ll take care of his friends whenever their sick or upset. He’ll make sure everyone is comfortable and happy, even if it means he isn’t all the time. And then when we shared a class, I saw how focused and passionate he is about his classes and his interests. How he’s so protective of his friends and doesn’t let anyone stop him when he gets an idea in his head, even if they aren’t the best. He sorta worked his way into my heart with each moment that I got to know him more. ” everyone is speechless with Shiro’s answer, Lance looking at him with such surprise and it was stunning, seeing Lance be caught off guard like that. His mother seems to be satisfied with his answer and goes about asking one of Lance’s sisters about her work, snapping everyone out of whatever stupor they were caught in and resuming their conversations, gladly taking the spotlight off of Shiro who went back to eating, trying to ignore the red blush that still decorate his scarred nose and cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was late at night, everyone else was pretty much asleep or heading off to bed themselves. Shiro was able to head out to the front porch, taking in the clear night sky and all of the stars that was usually so hard to see in the city. The front door squeaks open, and Shiro turns in his spot, expecting to see Lance. Instead, it was his mother, who happily takes a seat on the stair above Shiro, looking up into the night sky in a oddly comforting silence.

They both continue to enjoy the view in their mutual silence, until lance’s mother speaks. “When you do ask out my boy, I’m sure he won’t hesitate saying yes.” It was said so calm and so matter-of-fact, that it left Shiro staring at her, gaping at her. How did she find out? “I-I don’t know what you mean. I’m already dating Lance.” That came out much shakier then Shiro wanted it to be. Mrs. McClain chuckles to herself and looks down to Shiro. “Honey, do you really think my boy can lie to me? I knew from the moment you got here. But I also saw how much you actually like him.”Shiro tries to stammer out some sort of response, his blush growing more and more. It was probably already taking over his neck.“So just know that when you two do start dating, for real, I’ll be very happy he found someone like you.” And with that, she got up and left Shiro to his stuttering thoughts and the stars in the sky. Well, so much for fooling his family. But Shiro can’t exactly say that he’s not happy he had that chat with his mother.

Shiro looks back up to the stars, and whispers to himself “when we start dating, huh? That’s a nice idea.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tada! Finally did it! I added I some pining Shiro because why not, and don’t try and fool mama McClain, she can tell when any of her children are lying.

I really hope you enjoy this! I know I had some fun writing this!

#shance #ask #ask and you shall receive #Lance #shiro #fake dating #voltron #voltron au #mama McClain #pining shiro #cause why not #shance au #shiro x Lance #college universe

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placeformysurveys · 4 years

Text

Stereotype survey part 2

Skater

[] I skateboard to everywhere.

[] If I’m not skateboarding, I carry it with me.

[] I shop at Pacsun.

[] I’m obsessed with Tony Hawk.

[] Oh yeah, and Bam Margera.

[] I always play skateboarding video games.

[] I have shaggy hair.

[] I wear baggy pants.

[] I wear skater shoes only.

[] I always wear hoodies.

[] I hang at skate parks 24/7.

[] I’m always learning new board tricks.

[] Fuck school, I want to be a professional skateboarder.

[] I’ve been skateboarding for over 4 years.

[] I hang with other skaters.

[] I’ve been hurt while skateboarding.

[] I’ve been in a skateboarding competition.

[] I wear vans.

[] Tony Hawk’s Underground owns.

[] I’ve met some of my closest friends at skate parks.

Total= 0

Christian Girl/Boy

[/] I go to church at least once a week.

[] Most of my wardrobe consists of long skirts and button down shirts for church.

[] I always carry a bible with me.

[X] My whole family is very religious.

[] I’ve never been on a date.

[/] I’ve never smoked or had a beer.

[X] My beliefs are very strong.

[X] I’m waiting for marriage until sex.

[] I wear a cross necklace.

[] I have a bracelet that says WWJD.

[] I’m always preaching to people about the importance of religion.

[X] I believe in God.

[] I’m not allowed to watch rated R movies, and sometimes, not even PG-13 movies.

[X] I never go out and party.

[] I read the bible everyday.

[] I’ve memorized excerpts from the bible.

[] I go to Sunday school.

[X] I’ve been to church camp.

[X] I pray every night.

[/] I sing christian songs.

Total= 8.5

Gangsta

[] I say 'yo’.

[] I also say 'fo shizzle’.

[] I wear extremely baggy pants.

[] Mah chainz hang low.

[] I hang with my homies, bitches, and hoes.

[] I’m a thug.

[] I only listen to rap music.

[] 50 Cent is my idol.

[] I don’t give a shit about school.

[] I steal/have stolen before.

[] I freestyle.

[] I breakdance.

[] Gold chainz is tha way to go, bitch.

[] I’m white but I act black.

[] All my heroes are dead rappers.

[] Tupac is still alive.

[] I party with all my hoes.

[] I wear a sideways baseball cap.

[/] I wear hoodies.

[] I wear converse with the tongue flipped out.

Total= .5

Bully

[] I always steal people’s lunch money.

[] Geeks are afraid of me.

[] I get in trouble all the time.

[] I steal people’s stuff to be an asshole.

[] People have called me a bully.

[] I have beat someone up before.

[] I’m always looking for a fight.

[] I pick on people smaller than me.

[] I push people out of the way when I’m walking.

[] I’ve never been in a relationship before.

[] People are afraid of me.

[] People know not to mess with me.

[] I’m bigger than most people my age.

[] I pick on people for the fun of it.

[] I make fun of everything anyone else likes.

[] If anyone crosses my path, they’re dead.

[] People know not to try and stick up for themselves when I’m around.

[] I’m one of the strongest kids in school.

[] Even some authority figures are afraid of me.

[] People get out of my way when I’m walking.

Total= 0

Gamer

[X] I own at least 2 different video game consoles.

[] I love Final Fantasy.

[] DDR and Guitar Hero own.

[] I’ve missed school before because I was trying to beat a video game.

[] I’m always trying to beat high scores on games.

[] I even play a lot of computer games.

[] I play at least 3 hours of video games a day.

[] My thumbs are sore often.

[] I spend all my money on new video games.

[] My boyfriend/girlfriend has to be into video games.

[] All I talk about is video games.

[] I’ve been in a video game competition before.

[] My eyes hurt sometimes because I play video games too much.

[] My grades are eh.

[X] I have a handheld video game system, like Nintendo DS or Gameboy.

[] I see every video-game-to-movie movie out there.

[] I have at least 3 memory cards.

[] I watch X-Play.

[X] I’ve been playing video games for at least 5 years.

[] I always look up video game cheats.

Total= 3

Redneck

[] Elvis is still alive.

[] I hunt.

[] I fish.

[] I own something camouflage.

[] I eat venison (deer meat).

[] I live in the country.

[] Someone in my family has the name Billy.

[] I own a bunch of junk I don’t need.

[] I have over 10 pets.

[] I drive a big truck with huge tires.

[] I wear a cowboy hat.

[] I’ve ridden a tractor before.

[] My jeans are always dirty.

[] I have a southern accent.

[X] I say y'all.

[] Yankees can fuck off.

[/] I buy everything at Wal-Mart.

[X] I’m kind of poor.

[] I’ve caught a fish then eaten it before.

[X] I work hard.

Total = 3.5

Cowgirl/Cowboy

[] I live on a farm.

[] I own at least 2 horses.

[/] I own a pair of cowboy boots.

[] I own a cowboy hat.

[/] (Girls) I always wear my hair in two braids.

[] I ride a tractor.

[] I live in a small town.

[X] I’ve lived in Texas before.

[] I wear flannel shirts.

[] I wear overalls.

[/] I say y'all and howdy.

[] I have other animals on a farm.

[] I’ve been in a rodeo before.

[X] I’ve ridden a mechanical bull before.

[X] I love home cooking, country style.

[] I always wear my cowboy hat, even in restaurants.

[/] I say yee-haw!

[X] I’ve been to horse races before.

[] I love cowboy movies.

[] I square dance.

Total= 6

Social Butterfly

[/] I have a lot of friends.

[X] I get along with everybody.

[] I enjoy talking to different people.

[] I’m a people person.

[X] I love having tons of fun.

[] People come to me for advice.

[] It seems that people always want to talk to me or hang out with me.

[] I can relate to Ferris Buller.

[] Everybody thinks I’m awesome.

[X] I’m not in any clique, I’m friends with people from every clique.

[] I can turn an antisocial person nice.

[] I talk to at least one different person a day.

[X] I’m pretty cheerful.

[] I’m involved in something, like a club, that allows me to meet new people.

[] I never want to argue with people.

[] I love talking.

[X] I always have fun doing anything.

[X] I’m optimistic.

[X] I have over 150 friends on my IM or cell phone book.

Total= 7.5

Stoner

[] I’ve tried at least 2 different drugs before.

[] I always feel chill or extremely hyper.

[] Getting high is awesome.

[] My room smells like pot.

[] I’ve got caught with drugs before.

[] All my money goes toward buying drugs.

[] I’ve sold drugs before.

[] 4/20 fucking rocks.

[] I’m fascinated with the color green.

[] I own something with a pot leaf on it.

[] I have lots of air freshener so my parents won’t suspect I smoke pot in my room.

[] I’ve went to school high before.

[] I’m a slacker.

[] I could care less about school and my grades.

[] I see things that aren’t there sometimes.

[] I’m like 'whatever’ to everything.

[] I’ve skipped class to get high with friends.

[] I’ve resorted to more powerful drugs like cocaine or meth because pot is so lame.

[/] Marijuana should not be illegal.

[] Drugs make me feel good.

Total= .5

Whore

[] I’ve had at least 10 boyfriends.

[] I’ve hooked up with a random guy whose name I didn’t know.

[] I’m not a virgin.

[] I’ve made out with at least 20 different guys.

[] I dress like a slut.

[] I’m a bitch and I know it.

[] I use my body to get what I want.

[] I’ve hooked up with someone for money before.

[] I’ve done things I regret while high or drunk.

[X] I’ve dated someone at least 3 years older than me.

[] I party often.

[] I get drunk all the time.

[] Other girls give me dirty looks a lot.

[] I’ve gotten in trouble for what I’ve worn before.

[] I’ve had my thong show before on purpose.

[] I have random piercing(s).

[] I have a tattoo.

[] Guys flirt with me all the time.

[] I act really ditsy.

[] I’ve cheated on my boyfriend before.

Total= 1

So far I'm a: Christian girl

#survey #x

0 notes

wearethemusikmakers · 6 years

Text

Been a minute

It's been a while since I wrote anything on here. Life has jus been that up n down roller coaster as usual. Can say I kinda am getting on a better path in a few weeks from now but sometimes it feels like forever when ur still dealing with bullshit outside of work.

Right now tho my spiritual balance is way off. I dont feel that connection I had with God sometimes and I jus feel empty every now and then. I would blame it on SAD (seasonal anxiety disorder) but at the same time I kno theres more to it than that. I also recently split from my ex gf not too long ago which slightly has me on the fritz but not as much. Things between me n her weren't getting any better. After I put us on break in 2018 cus i was feeling our love weakening we jus never really repaired while trying to work things out. But rather than beat a dead horse I allowed her to break us up. She believed we should keep fighting but I don't kno anymore. Would things change or stay the same? Get better or get worse? So I stopped fighting my heart had no more fight left. Another reason why I feel so empty.

Me n her still stay in contact while she's in school but it's not enough time between her school work and job to really meet up or touch base even as friends. Its difficult. I shouldn't be trying to find anyone to fill that void but I never been that kinda guy to jus let LOVE go. I've been in a war within myself. The rebellious side of me is winning on all fronts the good half of me fights wen it is needed I guess.

I've also come to a conclusion of my future circle of friends as to whom will still be around and who will leave me hanging. Basically my old band members and a few others. Sometimes u don't think certain things like money/ fame/ a child will break up a bond that u built with ppl but in the end it always does somehow n ppl are jus shitty. Almost no one calls, almost no one hits u up, they don't want u around them. U would think I was stealing from them or something with the amount of distance they put between me n them. But I plan on recovering as I still have not given up my gifts n talents. I still write, recording is the tough part. Im down to the wire with maybe like 5 or 6 friends in my circle maybe. I wouldn't be surprised if something else stops us from befriending each other. But I pray not. My heart can only take so much more unnecessary loss.

Recently I've come back in contact with an old ex, who by surprise did me in the worst way possible u could do somebody. It's a story for another time I suppose but let's jus say our first go around was one of my most unpleasant. But for some reason I am drawn to her each time she comes back. It doesn't matter how many times she leaves she always appears n I find my way back to her. Thinking maybe she's changed, maybe she's grown a lil more n she has but then there's this constant game of cat n mouse that we play that keeps making me wonder, "why now?". This time around I can feel that I pull her more into being drawn to me jus as much. Perhaps I'm slowly learning to suppress every single emotion and allowing her to come forward more. Perhaps it is the change in her that is also crying out for something different this time. Perhaps I am being led astray into another trap only to be hurt by her again. 5th times the charm I suppose. What's crazy is i now understand why superheroes like Daredevil Batman Spiderman Wolverine and others fall for these beautiful cat like, deadly assassin women in their lives. They bring out something in them that no one else can see. And wen they kno they hurt you they kno how to manipulate ur feelings and make u feel special. They're honest and brutal but yet still care how they affect you even wen they hurt you. They kno you inside out even if u only knew them for a short time. For once I am living in my own fkn comic book. It's crazy but it's true.

I've been trying to take her out of her usual environment because I kno wen it comes to men they don't treat her so fair. Its jus sex wen they need to bust one off. Strictly business. But it's never that way with me. However I don't kno how to take her out of her environment wen she always proclaims to be sleepy. This has happened several times n I'm running out of patience. We go once she does fine. We try again she puts sleep above everything and she barely works. N yet somehow she still begs for me to stay. But what am I staying for? Is it cus I think or hope too much that she will keep her word? Perhaps but all this energy I'm wasting it jus divides my soul even more from who I am supposed to be. I shouldn't be fighting for something like this. Sometimes I keep hoping for truth to reveal itself but this time what is the truth, has she changed or stayed the same? Meaning surprise or casual disappointment. Lord knows.

I jus want an answer so I can move forward or slow down. I need an answer for everything in my life at this moment. Im hoping I get one cus it's been a while since I had one

0 notes

comicteaparty · 6 years

Text

October 18th, 2018 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party chat that occurred on October 18th, 2018, from 5PM - 7PM PDT. The chat focused on The Origin Story by Carolin Reich.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- THURSDAY BOOK CLUB START!

Good evening, everyone~! This week’s Thursday Book Club is officially beginning! Today we are discussing The Origin Story by Carolin Reich~! (https://tapas.io/series/The-Origin-Story)

Remember that Thursday discussions are completely freeform! However, every 30 minutes I will drop in OPTIONAL discussion questions in case you’d like a bit of a prompt. If you miss out on one of these prompts, you can find them pinned for the chat’s duration. Additionally, remember that while constructive criticism is allowed, our focus is fun and respectfully appreciating the comic. All that said, let’s begin!

QUESTION 1. What is your favorite scene in the comic so far and why?

one of my favorite scenes is actually really depressing XD but i really like the small part of a scene after cosima beats joreal and velver passes by her looking for her. https://tapas.io/episode/974705 something about the illustration on this page is so expertly crafted. like, you can just take one look and see cosima is in shock and kind of dead instead, and the fact its conveyed in such a brief and brillaint way amazes me.

Superjustinbros

Hi there!

RebelVampire

hey SJ

Superjustinbros

Glad to be here

RebelVampire

feel free to share any scenes that you were found of.

Superjustinbros

https://tapas.io/episode/1182515

Here's a pretty silly one

RebelVampire

yes! i really liked the relationship between chaze and his brother. theyre so different in personality. and you kind of have to wonder what happened in the past that caused his brother to leave home and essentially leave chaze in charge. cause chaze is not exactly whod i was as a king necessarily XD

Superjustinbros

Heehee X3

Pretty much

RebelVampire

did you just like it for the silliness or was there something else?

Superjustinbros

the silliness

RebelVampire

any part of the silliness that particularly entertained you or just the whole package?

Superjustinbros

I'd say the "head shake" bit

RebelVampire

yeah thats definitely a great illustration right there~!

Superjustinbros

Indeed

And giant draco daddy

RebelVampire

yeah i liked how the dragon was treated more like a pest than as a dragon XD

Superjustinbros

Dragon jsut wants his pumpkins for Halloween

RebelVampire

in the meantime, another scene i liked was in the elven court where velver did manipulative mumbo jumbo towards nocturne by playing to her fears on being the proxy for chaos. that was just some beautiful a-ok emotional stake driving right there. though i do wonder how much of it was on purpose or if velver was being a jerk. but i like the fact that i dont know for sure because it keeps velver as a bit enigmatic

Superjustinbros

https://tapas.io/episode/1152958 Ooh, so there's some type of modern tech in this world too?

RebelVampire

ummm, well in that part of the world its just cause cosima brought her phone

Superjustinbros

lol right

RebelVampire

another scene im fond of is when nocturne she tells Chaze "nope you gotta figure out how to get yourself out" after freeing him. Chaze has some really great expressions. But i also like the story itself turns my expectations on their head by having Chaze really actually mostly figure out how to escape himself.

Superjustinbros

Yeah that's a good scene

RebelVampire

speaking of head turns, and not so much a scene, but i like that cosima orchestrated her own escape from the brothel and noped out. like im used to stories where the protagonist misbehaves only a fraction (like explore the brothel after being told no dont do that). but cosima just nopes out of there and heads for home, which is a fitting reaction for someone her age.

Superjustinbros

Yeah.

At least it's appropriate for Cosima's age.

Since I see lots of story make the young characters far more intelligent/capable for someone their age

RebelVampire

yes, so i like that she decided to try and nope after all. granted it backfired as it should have, but still the attempt was made

mathtans

I will be another... 15-20 minutes. FYI.

RebelVampire

kay take your time. well be here but i hope you can make it.

mathtans

I liked the rattling off of "chosen one" artifacts like mascots and silver crystals and then be all, if I don't get those, then nevermind.

Superjustinbros

Oh hey Math(edited)

RebelVampire

oh yeah i forgot about that moment in the larger scheme. but that was a really great moment. and again, kind of a more realistic reaction in a sense. cause i think those sorts of things are what ppl expect if they get told theyre the chosen one.

QUESTION 2. Throughout the comic, Velver seems to be up to his own sorts of goals. What do you think Velver��s goals even are? Are they personal, or is this the will of the supposed Church? What do these goals have to do with manipulating the elves to war with the merpeople? What outcome do you think people are hoping to achieve by starting it? Who is Kader, and what’s their intent with Cosima/Riga? Do you feel Velver is loyal to Kader, or is Velver playing the field to achieve his own ends? Lastly, how does Velver know Jorel, and why did Jorel call Velver a traitor?

i will try and tackle the last one first. i feel as if velver must not have always been part of the church by the fact hes a traitor. instead, he joined the church later when he saw the people he was with were "evil." though personally i feel like jorel's group wants to stop the prophecy a different way versus what the church is up to? but this is mostly based on the fact i cant necessarily picture jorel as part of this so-called church

i could be wrong and its totally opposite and the hunters dont realize velver is a double agent who hates the church

im gonna go out on the limb and say i think velver is playing both fields and trying to decide for himself what the best outcome is. and that while he's doing kader's bidding for now, he ultimately is after something else that makes following kader necessary.

Superjustinbros

I second the "prophecy a different way" part, seems like a possible reason.

RebelVampire

i definitely also feel that kader is definitely for sure evil. cause something about the breaking of strings and velver's reactions makes me pretty sure they're a tyrant. XD which makes me pretty sure that they actually dont care about light beating the dark. they just want cosima's powers to do cool power things. maybe take over a kingdom

actually thatd make sense for why they want the elves and the merpeople to war

let the elves and the merpeople tire themselves out

then swoop in with cosima/riga saying "were here to take over"

insta win

Superjustinbros

I mean who doesn't want to rule over a kingdom

mathtans

Okaaaay, hiiii. Busy week, didn't get all the way through "Destiny", but very impressed by the German origins here. Gonna scroll up and make random remarks now.

Re: The scene after the dead parents, yeah, that whole section somehow rang really true, the whole "my parents will be so annoyed I don't want to have to deal" morphing into the "what is even my life now". Also, kudos on illustrations in general.

RebelVampire

yeah. i like that it continues as well to when cosima got caught by the hunters. and she just sits there like "what is life what do i do"

mathtans

I'm not at the brother scene yet. ^.^ Did not expect the dragon thing. I wonder how people who do the swimming/water thing end up with dragons, that we associate with the air.

Yeah. I mean, not only are your parents dead, you come face to face with their killer. Yipes.

Yeah, Cosima's portrayed well as a teenager.

RebelVampire

i did wonder that too. we havent seen the merpeople yet in the sense of their city, so maybe they actually live above water unlike all past precedent merpeople or something

i did think it was ironic

but i also thought it was ironic anyway cause how does chaze of all ppl have a dragon XD

mathtans

Velver's an interesting cookie. Joining up later makes sense, particularly if that made him a "traitor" to some. I feel like he's his own agent, rather than working for anyone else... not necessarily that he's trying to engineer the best outcome either, just that he thinks he has some role to play, prophecy wise.

Superjustinbros

I wonder what the merpeople even look like

unless they already appeared and I jsut missed it

mathtans

Seahorses are called dragons of the sea, right? Maybe that's how they hatch.

RebelVampire

chaze is a mer person

Superjustinbros

ooh

RebelVampire

as is his brother XD

Superjustinbros

Okay then X3

RebelVampire

and i guess thats possible if the dragons are secretly just sea horses

mathtans

I think Velver's been reading the ancient runes. I also have my own crazy theory...

Namely that which one of them is good/order or evil/chaos hasn't necessarily been decided yet. Velver's pegging Cosima for the former, but it could be the other girl, so he's goading her too.

RebelVampire

oh thats a really good theory. that either one is capable. cause i mean tbf chaos doesnt have to be evil nor does order have to be good

mathtans

It's like, "I'm going to start a war, and let's see which of them handles it better".

Superjustinbros

lel

mathtans

It also might explain why Jorel wanted Cosima dead, he (or others of his kind) have pegged her as the chaotic one.

RebelVampire

could be

tbf maybe jorel wasnt even ordered to kill cosima

maybe hes just like velver and think he has his own role to play

Superjustinbros

Maybe so

RebelVampire

and he chose the psycho role

mathtans

Could be. I'm not sure I totally buy he's a psycho though... he's strangely ordered in his thinking. It's like, I gotta do this, and this, and tie up loose ends. He just, I dunno, has no soul?

(Maybe that's the same thing.)

RebelVampire

i mostly label him psycho cause he heartlessly killed her parents XD

mathtans

OH, hmmmm... what if Velver and Jorel were originally the rebirth of order and chaos, and they messed it up, so now it's up to the women? How old are they anyway?

Rebel: Fair.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 3. Many of the events of the comic come about for one reason: Cosima and Nocturne are destined to fight according to a prophecy and past precedence of their past selves. Do you think The Origin Story about Riga and her sister is true, or do you think there’s some critical information missing from it? Do you believe the prophecy is destined to come to pass, or are Cosima and Nocturne going to find a way to avoid fighting each other? Why do you think Cosima was kidnapped as a child but not Nocturne? In present times, what do you think will happen when Cosima catches up with Nocturne? Do you think Cosima will learn to control her powers inherited from Riga better, or will they ultimately be her undoing? What about Nocturne? Will she overcome her own issues regarding the prophecy?

i dont think that old. but i mean i guess its possible. though they must of messed up real bad cause neither velver or jorel killed each other.

so im saying it now cause of that flashback cosima had at some point (which i dont remember where). i think this is one of those situations where what ppl believe is a lie. someone else hurt riga and someone kept turning the new incarnations against each other. and eventually it devolved into a myth and such, as myths tend to do

mathtans

Well, the killing each other is just how things are now, once it's all escalated. ^.^

There's probably key missing information... maybe they're actually TRIPLETS.

RebelVampire

dun dun dun without the 3rd sister there are no negotians. jsut blind filled rage

mathtans

Yeah, there has been some interesting flashback/imagery stuff. Like when she reached for someone, and the image shattered and it was Velver (if memory serves).

I wonder if Cosima's friends have a role to play too. Maybe in a big twist, it was really one of them.

RebelVampire

they definitely have a role to play. they are suspicious af, though idk if you got to that part yet

mathtans

Ahh, if they appear in "Destiny" then no. I only got to the bit after Velver and Jorel talked. (I feel like they're related, incidentally.)

Speaking of though, the plot has been very clever in rolling out it's cast. Gradual enough to come to terms with each new character, but teasing others that end up with bigger roles later on. I'm reminded of an early scene when Velver was spying on Cosima - and Nocturne was spying on him. Layers.

RebelVampire

yeah i really like the pacing on it too. i dont have to spend an immense time memorizing a billion names at once.

Superjustinbros

At least the names aren't too hard to memorize.

mathtans

I'm still horrible with names. It's a gift.

I imagine it scans differently too when you're seeing it as it comes out versus binging, but I felt like the pacing was done well for the cast.

Superjustinbros

i feel ya Math (edited)

RebelVampire

on the side topic of nocturne, i feel like left to their own devices she and cosima wouldn't fight it out to the death. instead theyd be all sister bondy bond, have some tea, etc. so i think for sure its not they themselves who bring the prophecy to pass, its the plans of others who try to grab at the power and turn them on each other. but i also think cosima and nocturne will be obstinate and keep hugging each other screaming no

mathtans

I'm not so sure about that. Mainly because they might not always have control over their bodies. Like when Cosima went crazy on Jorel for self preservation. Could happen again with unintended consequences.

Nocturne probably also resents Cosima for growing up without so much responsibility, maybe also for having actual parents who aren't apparently trapped in crystals.

(...is reading a bit further in the background btw...)

RebelVampire

idk if nocturne would resent cosima for it. cause i mean, at least nocturne's parents are still probably alive in their crystals and werent viciously murdered. though youre right that riga may have other ideas about their bonding and just take over. but then again riga seems to know what velver is up to so riga might not act either.

the bigger danger on seeing nocturne i think is seeing the queen of elves

cause shes the one who might not take kindly to cosima XD

mathtans

Well, yeah, once Nocturne learns of the murdering that might change things. ^.^ There's a lot of variables in play I suppose.

That said, I will willingly ship Nocturne with Cosima's friends.

RebelVampire

LOL i dont think i can get behind that ship. mostly cause i expect cosima's friends to die. :"D

mathtans

That light haired girl is kind of precious though, with her theories.

I wonder what she'd make of seeing the town.... ... and now I'm picturing her at the brothel, I shouldn't do that.

Also, shipping all the girls in the brothel.

RebelVampire

yes those are more acceptable ships. the brothel girls are probably safe. and head brothel girl has a whip.

also i found it, that scene with cosima's friends being super suspicious. it was actually in puppeter

https://tapas.io/episode/915705

mathtans

Right, the fact that they knew Jorel. I thought that was weird.

It's fine though, I'll still ship them with each other! All the ships!

RebelVampire

yeah. whatever organization jorel is from theyre clearly from

QUESTION 4. Among the larger threads rests a plethora of other possible curiosities to be solved. Who exactly were Cosima’s parents? Were they working for someone from the beginning, or did they somehow get wrapped up in everything? Who are Cosima’s friends considering they lament that their comfortable lives have changed since Cosima left? Who is Jorel, and why are his orders to kill Cosima? What is the deal with the elves trapped in crystals? As far as the plot goes, how might the Hunters affect what’s going on in general? What about Chaze? Will he be able to stop the war, or is his destiny meant to be something greater than that? In general, what are your theories for the future? What do you think or want to see happen?

mathtans

Are they from that organization though? Because if so, they know where Cosima is. Why bother sending Jorel.

RebelVampire

i think jorel is more firmly acting on his own

since the friends didnt know of any death order

mathtans

He was saying he couldn't go back without being sure she was dead though, or someone would be upset.

I think.

RebelVampire

so maybe the friends didnt get the message? and theyre going to show up going wtf guys

mathtans

Holy Hannah! Kader's more psychotic than Jorel, she doesn't even kill directly. (Just got caught up.) Like geeeeeez.

Rebel: Maybe. There was the implication that they could return as well.

I suspects events will prevent that, but they thought it was an option.

RebelVampire

maybe. idk. i need more data in this case. i still think jorel is working more on his own though. cause maybe the person who was gonna be upset is actually gonna be upset regardless. and be like wtf jorel why did you kill riga you dolt

but yeah kader is psychotic, or at the very least tyrannical

velver did not necessarily make a good switch

i really want to know whats up with the elves in the crystals. like was there a spell that backfired and the queen just doesnt care O_O

mathtans

Maybe, yeah... also that mention of having the same problem in another 10 years makes me think once again that if the battle doesn't happen the spirits move on again. Or something.

Yeah, maybe the elves in the crystals had a disease? So it's like suspended animation? Because it was mentioned that there were fewer elves than merfolk.

Or maybe they just couldn't make enough food for the city, so this means fewer mouths to feed. Swords apparently grow in the crystals, but I guess vegetables don't.

RebelVampire

maybe it is a disease. or maybe this is actually why riga was kidnapped. cause riga caused it and jorel's group was like "welp we found riga. did you see that giant crystal explosion?"

im not sure what mention youre talking about with the 10 years thing tho

i must of missed it

mathtans

The most recent update. Third panel from the end.

Riga likes making crystals. Everyone needs a hobby.

RebelVampire

hmmm from the phrasing i feel like the implication is more that nocturne will kill riga? and kader will have to wait a decade for riga to be reborn again so they have to restart the kidnapping process. but i could be wrong.

mathtans

As to the future, I really don't think I can call it. Too many moving pieces. I also wonder a bit if maybe the Circle's hiding elements of the prophecy, accidentally or otherwise.

Ahh, I see... no, that's possible. Doesn't necessarily negate the Velver/Jorel reincarnation issue though, maybe the host doesn't need to die.

(Yes, I'm back to that theory.)

RebelVampire

its a possible theory. though like i say theyd really have to mess it up for this to be a thing. i do think parts of the prophecy are hidden

though maybe its a bit of both

in that theyre purposefully hiding some of it

but then theres parts that they just missed

and are gonna go through their archives and go "oops"

mathtans

It was censored by the clerics.

Incidentally, just want to shout-out here too for the translator. I noticed the comic's originally in German, and gets translated. Can't be simple coming up with the terms like for the "virtual loop" forest.

(Maybe the original German prophecy got translated so many times it's being misinterpreted. )

RebelVampire

i am curious what the original german says now XD

mathtans

I can't speak German. They have neat words for things though.

Okay, final theory. In a massive plot twist, Cosima's cat app saves the day. All the outside world needed was technologies to unify the different groups.

Oh! And shout-out to some of the fun cartoony poses. I feel like those would be fun to draw. (Or maybe not draw, but see once drawn?)

RebelVampire

haha i did kind of hope it would go that way tbh. that by the end the worlds recombine and they figure out that technology is awesome and puts less pressure on the whole magic business.

so i mean if cosima's cat app requires this to happen, so be it

mathtans

I wonder if there's anywhere for her phone to charge. Or if she can use magic for that.

RebelVampire

i wonder if vampire guy we saw briefly who seemed to be from cosima's world has the cat app

that would be hilarious. has all these great goddess powers, uses them to recharge her phone

mathtans

It's the simple things in life sometimes.

RebelVampire

well if cosima visits the brothel again, she cant disappoint. theyll want to see that cat app again

mathtans

Yis. That will be after the Origin Story... the Sequel Story.

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- THURSDAY BOOK CLUB END!

Sadly, this wraps up this week’s Thursday Book Club chat for now. Thank you so much to everyone for reading and joining us! We want to give a special thank you to Carolin Reich, as well, for making The Origin Story. If you liked the comic, make sure to support Carolin Reich’s efforts however you’re able to~!

Read and Comment: https://tapas.io/series/The-Origin-Story

Carolin Reich’s Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/CarolinReich

Carolin Reich’s Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/A212D0X

Carolin Reich’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/Ensyis

Comic Tea Party- Thursday Book Club

Next week’s Thursday Book Club will be about A Drift of Souls by Davpow. For participants, you have the next week to read as much of the comic as you would like~! We hope to see you on Thursday, October 25th, from 5PM to 7PM PDT for the chat in #thursday_bookclub!

Comic’s Main Site: https://adriftofsouls.com/

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