#like being raised to believe that you are constantly at war w yourself and your mind and your body and you cannot trust yourself

[fallingbyjuleecruise]

i think most art that tries to critique christianity, and specifically american charismatic christianity, is shallow and honestly corny unless it comes from someone who has experience w that institution

[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

Baby Just Say Yes

Relationship: 12th Doctor x Reader

Warnings: brief mention of drowning - but not graphically described, and some spoilers for War and Peace (the book, although I suppose it would apply to the TV show as well, since they're the same story)

Word Count: 2,704

Summary: When you, Bill, and the Doctor debate the merits of how many doughnuts are too many, it accidentally leads to a revelation on an event you hadn't actually known had happened. 

Request: Bill finds out that the reader is "married" to Doc and at some point Bill jokes calling the two her grandparents

A/N: I took the route of reader knowing the Doctor for years and years, just so it was easier to justify the nature of the Doctor and readers relationship. As a result, it's got some implied past 11 x Reader. Hope that’s okay!

Your finger trailed along the spines of the collection of books on one the shelves in the second level of the console room. You paused when your eyes landed on a familiar novel, one you had yet to crack open, but really wanted to. If so you could boast to the Doctor that you'd read it.

War and Peace.

1,225 pages. The Doctor had never had the patience for it. You took the novel out from the shelf, only for a plume of dust to pool into the air. It tickled your nose, making it itch.

Then you sneezed.

You rubbed your finger along the base of your nose in a vain attempt to scratch it, and narrowed your eyes at the dusty bookshelf. The Doctor had said he was going to dust it.

A muffled voice spoke from below, it took you a moment to place what was said, but you were pretty sure it was ‘bless you’.

You were on a planet the Doctor and you had discovered in his last face, back when he had been younger, had a longer chin, and was far more obsessed with sweets. It was famous for its doughnuts, the best in the galaxy, the Doctor had decided.

And that decision had stuck, since, when the Doctor had told Bill about the planet, she had decided that they absolutely must go.

You poked your head over the bannister and locked eyes with Bill. She was holding a doughnut in her mouth, and her hands were full balancing two trays. You realised it must have been Bill who spoke, because the Doctor was only now coming in, holding a near empty tray of doughnuts in one hand.

“Hey,” you said, and you placed your book on one of the chairs before hopping down the stairs. “You two get enough?”

Bill snorted, dropping her boxes onto the console and taking a bite out of her doughnut. “Not even. He,” she nodded towards the Doctor. “Has already eaten nearly every single one out of that box.”

Your eyebrows flew into your hairline, and you snatched the box out of the Doctor’s hands. You waved the Doctor away when he protested, and instead eyed the boxes contents. There was a single doughnut left. Out of nine doughnuts, and only one was left. It was round, with no hole in the middle, and a good layer of icing sugar sprinkled on top.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Feeling sick yet?”

The Doctor raised his own eyebrow at you, and you knew, instinctually, that it was more effective than yours. “You do not get to lecture me on health.”

It was a weak rebuttal.

“You’ve had eight of them Doctor,” you took the final doughnut out of the box. “Eight.”

He snatched it out of your hand, and your face fell. “Timelord,” he replied, and then took a large bite out of the final doughnut. The Doctor immediately winced, then hissed. He pulled the doughnut away with a frown, and you saw the remnants of hot jam on his lips.

A swell of vindication ran through you, and, under the guise of wiping some of the jam off, you took the doughnut off of him. You let the air cool the jam slightly, not wanting to burn yourself too. “Eight,” you said again. “Is more than enough.”

“The very basics of my physiology are different,” he gestured to both his hearts for good measure, then tried to reach for the doughnut, you were ready though, and you held it out of reach. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just because you've got two hearts,” you said. “Doesn't mean you've got two stomachs. At the very least you'll get indigestion.”

And with that you took a hungry bite out of the very doughnut he had just stolen from you. It was good, they’d made it with raspberry jam, and the stark taste of the sharp raspberry against the sweet sugar warmed you. You gave him a satisfied smirk, and turned to Bill. “What about you, what’s yours?”

Bill had been watching you both, her head swinging between you like she was watching a tennis match. She had just bitten into her doughnut, and she looked slightly stunned that you had spoken to her.

“It’s really good,” she said, but her mouth was full so it sounded more like ‘ts r’lly gud. She swallowed, then continued talking. “Can’t remember what they said this one was,” and she turned to the Doctor, holding the doughnut up so both you and the Doctor could see its contents. It was filled with a rich purple paste. “What’s supposed to be in it?”

“Ube,” the Doctor said coolly, and he shuffled over to your side. You sidestepped him, taking another bite of the doughnut. He wasn’t getting it that easily. “It’s from the Philippines, traditionally.”

“We should’ve gotten more,” Bill said. “I think these are my favourite so far.”

This was the beauty of this planet, they were obsessed with Earth doughnuts, so they’d preserved every culturally significant recipe that Earth had, 1,893 – the Doctor had counted. They even had cronut’s, of all things, though you’d yet to try them.

The Doctor scowled at the other two boxes, and you stepped carefully in front of them.

“I chose a new book,” you said, which was a blatant redirection of conversation, but you powered through. “One I’m sure you haven’t finished.”

From the corner of your eyes, you noticed Bill was watching the pair of you again, as if a spectator of a sport.

The Doctor studied you carefully, and you knew he was humouring this new conversation. “That’s an unlikely assumption.

“War and Peace,” you said, with only a small hint of pride.

The Doctor cocked his head to the side, considering it. “You’re right, actually. I got bored once the Anatole and Natasha affair got going. Couldn’t visit the opera for a couple decades either.”

Your face fell.

Bill spluttered. “Did you just spoil it?”

The Doctor waved a hand. “The book's over 150 years old. If Y/N doesn't know about the ending by now then that's not really my fault.”

You vaguely heard Bill breathe out an Oh my God.

“That's one of the most arrogant things you've ever said,” you said, still processing the shock of how he had so simply said what he had. “And I once listened to you drone on for an hour on how you choreographed the macarena.”

“I did that in a different face though, younger, more nimble. I’ll have to tell you about how I taught Claude Debussy how to shred.”

“Like, on the guitar, or in the ocean?” Bill asked.

“Yes,” the Doctor said, and then he went to grab for the rest of the doughnut in your hand.

“Oh no,” you said, side-stepping him. “No more, especially not after you spoiled the book for me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “It’s not like I told you how Andrei dies in a gruesome battle against the French, and Natasha coincidently finds herself by his side as he dies on his deathbed, even though they’d long parted. Honestly.”

Your eyes bugged out of your skull, you could feel it, as though they were ready to up and roll away.

“Is Andrei an important character?” Bill asked slowly, and then, she meekly added. “I haven’t seen the show.”

You spoke very slowly, your voice low. You narrowed your eyes to the Doctor. The death of a major character was a pretty big spoiler. “I cannot believe you.”

The Doctor winced slightly. “I just rambled like I was 900 years old again, didn’t I?”

“At least,” you breathed. You swallowed your exasperation, and then, suddenly, you sneezed. It was loud, like it had to announce itself to the world, and you rocked backwards slightly. You sniffled.

“Bless you,” Bill said again, but her mouth was full, so it sounded like ‘bleshooo’.

You gave her your thanks, then turned to the Doctor, your mind going to the reason why you were sneezing in the first place. “Dusting,” you said. “You haven’t dusted yet. You said you would.”

The Doctor waved a hand. “I will, I’ll get round to it.”

“You offered, Doctor,” you continued, and in the back of your mind, you wondered if it sounded like you were nagging him . “No one asked you to do it, Nardole didn’t even ask. You offered.”

“You’re in a mood,” The Doctor said suddenly, and he leaned forward, so his big nose was almost against yours.. “Are you sick?

“I – what, no, I’m not sick,” you said, and you stumbled back suddenly. His eyes were so large, so close, and it was momentarily disarming. “You can be so infuriating sometimes, you know that?”

“You tell me constantly.”

Bill’s face grew into a large, delighted grin. “Oh my God,” she said. “You're like an old married couple.”

You turned to her, stunned. Or course, you were with the Doctor, but the idea of being married to him… well, he had done it, you knew he had, you’d been there, several years ago now when he’d had a different face with a long chin and an affinity for custard.

It certainly hadn’t been to you, though.

Of course, time had been broken and you’d been wearing an itchy eyepatch, but schematics.

You’d also seen the Doctor, a much younger face, one you had never travelled with, marry Queen Elizabeth the first. You’d been a ring bearer. It had been too fun teasing all three of faces of the Doctor that day for it.

But no. You had certainly never married him.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t want to, quite honestly, the thought had never crossed your mind. You had been so content in your relationship with him, how sure it felt, how right it was, that you’d never thought about anything more.

The Doctor, too, gawked, but for an entirely different reason. "You called me old.”

Bill glanced up and down the doctor's frame, which was enough to make her point.

“Fine,” the Doctor grumbled. “I'm old.”

“How are we like an old married couple?” You pressed, because the Doctor was not getting the key part of Bill’s statement.

“The bickering,” she said. “It's totally what couples do.”

You gaped and turned to the Doctor for some sort of guidance. You waited for him to shut it down. To laugh and just say it was because you were comfortable around one another. Instead, the Doctor only shrugged. "I mean,” he said. “Technically we are married'

You did a double take. Married. You were, apparently, already married to the Doctor.

What?

Bill gasped. “What - no, since when? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Yeah,” you said, finding your voice. “I'd quite like to know too.”

Bill turned to you. “Wait what do you mean?”

“This is news to me,” you continued. “We're married? Where was my something old and something blue?”

The Doctor gestured to himself, then around the console room - the TARDIS. So those were, apparently, the something old and something blue. A bit on the nose.

He raised an eyebrow, and you wondered if your expression was as confused as you felt. “On the foreshore of Tralite,” he prompted. “With the Arhkor embassy.”

That... that hadn't been a wedding. Had it?

You mind went back to that evening, so many years ago now, back when you had been travelling with Clara, back when the doctor knew who Clara was. Your heart clenched for a moment, you didn't think about those times often. You felt alone in those memories, like you were the only one who held them, could cherish them.

But you remembered, quite clearly.

Here's what had happened:

Every decade, the Arhkor would sacrifice a person with renowned intelligence to the foreshore of Tralite, a beach that was more pebble than sand. The sacrifice would sit in the water until they drowned, and their memories would be recorded into the water. Living memory, the Doctor had said.

But the sacrifice that year, a young girl named Ardiel, whose bright purple hair had matched her purple scales, had been so young, and she hadn’t wanted to die.

So the Doctor, in all his foolish martyring glory, had marched out into the sea himself.

And of course, you couldn’t let him do that, so you followed.

“That wasn’t a wedding,” you said. “You were trying to sacrifice yourself to an ocean.”

You remembered it, your hand clasped in his, and the water settling over you both. You hadn’t been scared, which, in hindsight, terrified you. You should have been scared, but you weren’t. You had felt calm, at ease, safe even.

You couldn’t remember exactly why you had both been spared, but the water washed away, leaving you both wet and cold – but alive. And the water had never asked for another sacrifice since.

“It was a marrying of the minds,” The Doctor said, enunciating the words like he was trying to drill the meaning into your brain. “The water had been the officiant.”

“This is so weird,” Bill said, and she took another bite out of her doughnut.

You found yourself agreeing with Bill. “Doctor, that makes exactly zero sense.”

“The water had found something worth more than intelligence,” the Doctor continued. “It had found love. So when it copied and pasted our minds, that’s all it found. It unified us. It was a wedding.”

You rubbed your forehead with your fingers, trying to process this.

“I gotta say,” Bill commented, and she’d finished the doughnut she had been eating and was now fishing another out of a box. She pulled out a brown doughnut that was an oval shape with a silt down the middle. “I dunno how many people can say their grandparents got married by an ocean.”

“Ox-tongue,” the Doctor said, and he nodded to the pastry in Bill’s hand. Then, he considered her statement. “And that’s true, you should use that. It’s a good pick up line, should impress a girl or two.”

Bill scrunched up her face. “Okay, one; Ox tongue? Seriously? That can’t be right.”

The Doctor shrugged. “It’s Cantonese. A friend once told me about it. Apparently it references the shape of the dough. That being said, it might also be horse ears.”

“Okay,” Bill raised a sceptical eyebrow. “I’ll maybe half trust it, because it doesn’t sound right, but I don’t know enough to prove you wrong,” she paused before speaking again. “Also, two; I don’t think those two can get mixed up. Three, I’m never, ever using that as a pick up line. Not ever. It’s terrible.”

Thankfully, the Doctor was so focused on Bill’s last point, that he disregarded what she had said earlier. “It’s an excellent line! You’ll get to teach the girls something new!”

“Sorry, circle back,” you said, because your brain wasn’t computing. You weren’t even sure what you needed to address first. The marriage comments? The grandparents comment? The ox tongue?

Both Bill and the Doctor looked to you expectantly.

You pointed to the Doctor. “First of all, still wasn’t a wedding,” you then pointed to Bill. “Second of all, grandparents? I know he’s old but I’m certainly not.”

“Yeah but you’re with him,” she said, after swallowing part of her doughnut. She took another eager bite.

“He is sitting right here,” the Doctor grumbled. “But alright, if it wasn’t a wedding up to your standards, we can always do something different,” he stood up. “We can arrange it.”

Your brain short circuited, and you had to reprocess what the Doctor had said.

We can always do something different. We can arrange it.

Had the Doctor just proposed to you?

You were so stunned you didn’t even protest as he plucked the remaining doughnut from out of your fingers, wandering out of the console room. “Let me know,” he called out. “And we’ll get to reading that Tolstoy.”

You sat there, bug eyed, and turned to Bill. She was wearing a similar expression, she’d dropped her own doughnut, which sat dejected on top of one of the doughnut boxes.

“Did what I think just happened, happen?” You asked, your voice only slightly shrill.

Bill nodded. “I – uh, yeah. I think so.”

You stood up, and sprinted after him.

A/N^2: I gotta give huge thanks to the ever-sweet @phxntxmx​, who pointed out there was a bit of confusion in how I described one of the doughnuts here. I’ve tried to clear it up and make it a bit more consistent, since it’s not something I know about for sure.

[elizabethsharmon]

So. Poland has chosen its "president" yesterday - if we can even talk about real choice here when he won by approximately 422k votes. When he won in 6 out of 16 regions, all of them with significantly lower number of eligible voters. When there are huge discrepancies between the results displayed in each polling district and the ones published on the website of the National Electoral Commission. When there were recurring instances of some voting cards not having the necessary stamps which automatically classified the vote as invalid. When some people went to vote and it turned out they're not registered in their designated district because of system error. When people abroad didn't get their voting cards on time. When his party sent over 150 buses to villages in Eastern Poland to take older, conservative people to voting stations. When this is how the results map looks like - and somehow the blue wins with orange.

In the last five years, Du*a and his party PiS (literally lAw AnD jUsTiCe but believe me, they're none of these things) have completely ruined the country and regressed it to Middle Ages.The democracy practically doesn't exist anymore, not since they have the majority to rule (the opposition won the senate back in the parliamentary elections so it's a small win but it's still not enough). They started with the judicial system, appointing conservative judges who are always ruling in their favour. The courts are not independent anymore. The Constitution is being broken over and over and over again. People have been marching and protesting for years now but to no avail. 

The national television, TVP, is practically owned by the ruling party. The propaganda, fake news, hatred on the opposition and minorities is getting stronger each day. What you need to know is that this is literally the first channel on every TV set in the country. No matter where you live, no matter if you have cable or satellite, you turn on TV and TVP is what you get. Their reach is so much higher than other TV stations from the big four (TVP1&TVP2, TVN, Polsat). Poland has fallen to 62nd out of 180 countries in the World Press Freedom Index compiled annually by Reporters Without Borders. Before PiS took over in 2015 we were 18th. For du*a's presidential campaign now they gave TVP 2 billion PLN in order to strengthen the propaganda. There was a project to give those money to hospital oncology wards but PiS said no. TVP has only been showing him during the campaign. The other candidates have either been showed in a bad light or haven't been showed at all. Voters for whom TVP is the only source of information haven't seen other candidates nor their campaigns.

During the second round of the campaign, when another tv station, TVN, with two major Polish online media, Onet and WP, invited him and his opponent, Rafał Trzaskowski, for a debate. Du*a declined because he said he won't participate in a debate which isn't available for everyone and he asked them to reach an agreement with TVP to host the debate together. In the end there were two debates. Du*a on his own in TVP, answering predetermined questions from journalists reporting to his party and people in the studio that were paid to be there. Trzaskowski on his own in TVN and live on his Facebook channel, answering questions from the journalists from 16 independent offline and online media teams.

At the beginning of his and PiS first term of destroying the country, they started their crusade against women, because as we all know middle aged men are the most eligible people to make choices for women and their bodies. Abortion is Poland is (was? honestly who knows now) only allowed in three cases: if the woman's life was in danger, if the prenatal testing indicates severe damage of the fetus, if the pregnancy was the outcome of rape. With their pro life and anti women initiative, PiS was determined to ban abortion completely and punish it by prison. The bill was so flimsy that in some cases even miscarriage could be turned against woman. Even if the baby would've been born sick or severely disabled, even if the pregnancy could be fatal for the mother, even if it was caused by rape. We went on the streets. All dressed in black, with umbrellas in hand. Hundreds of thousands of women and allies marching and protesting together against the government. And they got scared. The bill proposal was dropped but the fight wasn't over and it still isn't. They tried to bring it back now during the pandemic just because they knew we wouldn't go out protesting. But we did, we blocked the streets with our cars.

The day after pill can only be bought on prescription. But if you end up going to the conservative ob/gyn they can invoke conscientious objection to abortion and they won't prescribe it for you. They want to ban sex ed from schools. In their opinion sex ed “demoralizes children and teaches them masturbation.” They want young people to be uneducated and have sex and get pregnant and give birth. They want to make kids have kids just so they would depend on the government and social wage programme 500+ which gives 500PLN (approximately 125€) each month to families with 2 or more children for each of their children. Right now you can be a woman raising your three or four kids and you will get the equivalent of minimum wage just for that. This program made people vote for them in 2015. First Du*a used it in his presidential campaign, then PiS was blackmailing the voters saying the program will only happen if both president and the government will be on board aka they have to get in so Du*a will sign the bill and people will get the money. People still believe only they can ensure the stability of the program even though almost all the other candidates said it will not go away.

In the last couple of weeks of presidential campaign, it became more clear than ever how Du*a is planning to win the elections - by trying to reach to the mindsets of elderly and conservative voters by attacking the LGBT community. He called us “ideological hurricane”. He said we are worse than communists. His party members have been saying we're not humans. He was saying over and over again how he doesn't care what people do in bed as long as they're not obnoxious on street and in real life about it. How sexuality is a private thing and we shouldn't be proud of it. How there's no place in Poland for “LGBT propaganda that wants to demoralize our children”. How there's no space here for unions for same-sex couples, not even mentioning marriage or adoption. How he'll do everything in his power to protect the “traditional Polish values and family model” (whatever that means). The most conservative parts of the eastern Poland has claimed their towns and villages as “anti-LGBT zone”. It's been going on since last year. After Dua's words now the hate crime is stronger than it ever was. When LGBT activists asked him to apologize for his spiteful words, showed him proofs that suicide rate among LGBT teenagers is higher than it was since his party is ruling, showed him the photographs and shared the stories of the people we lost because of the bashing they encourage and support, he said he won't apologize because he stands by his words and there's a freedom of speech in the country. Not for everyone I guess.

The journalists have been interviewing many people in different parts of Poland after it. What stuck with me were the words of some old man from the countryside who has said that “LGBT should be exterminated in Majdanek”. It's one of the places where the death camp was during World War 2. I don't think I have to tell anyone what words like this mean, how much they hurt, and how much worse it is when they’re said in the country that’s lost so so many lives during WW2. In a country that fought so hard for so many years to reclaim its freedom from the nazis and then from the soviets. In the meantime of this bashing, Du*a has pardoned a pedophile so he could return to his family (and the victim he abused). So that would be it for protecting family values.

The exit polls results yesterday were so close that they gave us so much hope that we would wake up in a new reality today but the hope died quickly. Now we're stuck again with a man who said in the middle of the global pandemic that he's anti-vaccination and he doesn't think vaccine for covid-19 should be obligatory. With a man who thinks climate change and global warming isn't real. With a man whose actions are constantly destabilitizing economy because he only acts like there is today and doesn’t look forward in the future and doesn’t know the way he and his party ruin the country will have terrible consequences in a few years. With a man who is homophobic, racist, misogynistic, xenophobic, and many, many, many other things. With a man who is a "president” of Polish people but only if you're a straight catholic man voting for his party.

Now our fear is that with him being “elected” as the “president” again, his party will try to meddle with the Constitution and try to change it so they could either extend his term for more years or extend the number of terms a president can have. And even if the change can’t happen so easily, what’s sure is that they will try to take away basic human rights from women and LGBT community. They made it perfectly clear in the last five years and during the campaign now.

So if you’re asking yourself now what can you do about it the answer is simple: spread the word. Read about it. Educate yourself. Make a buzz in the social media. We need as much help as we can get. We need foreign media to pick up the topic, we need them to talk about it and to make the noise. We need the foreign governments to know about it. European Union has already declared that if the bashing on LGBT continues, they will take away the development aid from the self-proclaimed “anti-LGBT zones”. Our country has suffered so much and somehow we’re still standing but I don’t know for how much long we will last. So please. Don’t leave us alone.

[kelieah]

flowers (din djarin x reader)

summary: din attempts to show his gratitude to the one person who’s been by his side all along

word count: 1.5k

warnings: fluff

edited: also pls go easy on me lmao, i’m not following the plot bc it’s just a quick fluffy blurb w a lil bit of background! allsssooo please refill out or let me know if you want to be tagged for my star wars / din djarin fics

a/n: sdjhbfdsfb yay! first star wars fic (not technically but let’s go w it), i’ve been wanting to write for their characters for the longest time and idk what’s stopping me ?? so here we goo

main masterlist | din djarin masterlist

You worked all your life as a mechanic, studied different droids and ships yet here you are now, taking care of a child. The child of a Mandolorian who constantly came to you to have his ship fixed. 

It all began when the two of you first met, he landed in your hangar with his busted up Razor Crest and asked for repairs. You told him you could do it for him with the help of your droids. Although, he was quick to reject your droids and asked for only you to work on it. You obliged in the end when he offered more credits, five hundred credits to be specific, for his request. 

While you were repairing his ship, you had to take a look in the interior as well because of how grave the damages were. But while you were fixing the inside, a faint noise startled you. That’s when you discovered the child, who is also known as Grogu. You and Mando, or who you now call Din, found out not too long ago. 

Your relationship with Grogu came naturally and easily. He grew attached to you immediately as did you. Although with Din, that was an entirely different story. After countless visits to your hangar and getting to know you, he fought with himself to make the decision to ask you to come along. He knew only so much about you but knew about your strong crave for adventure. It was a conflicting decision for him to make, he felt his odd sense of responsibility for you but he also emphasized with your past living and hardships. Eventually he asked you and to his little surprise, you agreed to come along with no hesitations.

Now, here are the three of you on a typical day of resting. Din lets you know that him and Grogu are going to the market. You find it odd that he doesn’t ask you to come along like usually would due to his overprotectiveness and slight trust issues but decide to brush it off. “We won’t be long,” he says while putting Grogu into his side.

“Whatever you say, tin head,” you yawn and turn back to your tinkering. 

He rolls his eyes beneath his beskar helmet at your comment and walks off towards the coordinates of the nearest village. Even though it annoys him, he had to admit he never got tired of your insults and nicknames for him. 

The village wasn’t too far from the ship and besides, he wasn’t really planning to get anything new. If you check now you’d realize you all didn’t need any more food or supplies for another week. He’s actually on the search for a gift. Din’s not one to express himself properly so after a short catch up with Cara Dune, he realizes he should be thanking you more. Not that he doesn’t thank you after you help him all the time, but bigger acts of gratitude. Though what would he know? 

“You really don’t know a thing, don’t you? Look, maybe get the girl some flowers and give her a nice big kiss to show her how thankful you are,” Cara chortled while chugging down the rest of her soup. Din pursed his lips and scoffed in response. “You got something good for you here, Mando. I wouldn’t let it pass,” she teased and patted the table, before dismissing herself. As he watched her walk off, her words remained in his mind for quite some time.

“Do you see flowers anywhere, kid?” he mutters while striding through the busy village. Grogu coos in response and reaches out to an area. Din turns around and glances in the direction he reaches out toward only to see a stand full of flowers. He walks towards the stand and looks around the selection, uneasiness settling inside of him like before when Cara told him to get you flowers. He huffs in annoyance. Why were there so many different types? And colors? And scents? 

This is a waste of time, he briefly thought to himself about to turn around until the merchant speaks up. “A Mandolorian buying flowers? Never thought I’d see that day, special someone?”

He lets out a quiet sigh and turns back around, nodding at her. Special is one way to describe it. He thinks deeply for a moment and stares at the variety of choices, debating which one would suit you best. He shakes his head due to being unable to make up his mind and turns away. He picks up Grogu who was beginning to walk off toward a frog and heads toward the other stands to clear his conscious. Not too long after, he purchases a snack for the kid and you. He eventually comes back to the flower stand and tosses the previous merchant a decent amount of credits. “I want it all,” he says firmly. The merchant gapes at the currency in her hands and glances up at him with a shocked expression. She nods quickly and hurries herself to gather all the flowers.

You start to wonder what is taking the two so long until you hear a series of short grunts and noises of, dragging? You place down your tools and press a button to open the back gate. You walk down to see Din dragging along a floating cart full of a ton of something covered high. Grogu reaches out from his bag and smiles at you. You walk over and scoop him up in your arms, pulling him close. Din turns his head towards you as you raise an eyebrow at him. “What is it?” you hesitantly ask and stare at him oddly.

His lips curl into a slight smile at your confused expression. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your face is a bit flushed from the work you were doing. Your lips are molded into a pout and the quirk of your eyebrow amuses him. He realizes soon enough that he’s staring and curses himself. “See for yourself,” he steps aside from the cart and fails to keep his eyes off of you. 

You glare at him warningly and hand him Grogu, reaching out toward the cloth. He smirks slyly and holds the child, nodding for you to continue. You mutter incoherent insults that he easily picks up and chuckles inaudibly. You grasp it and begin to pull it down until Din startles you by yelling just to scare you. Grogu giggles at your reaction. “Dank Farrik! Din! Don’t- don’t do that!” you swat at him and huff, finally pulling off the cloth. He chuckles quietly and waits for reaction. Your eyes widen at the crate full of flowers, the scent overwhelming your nose and the vibrant colors blinding your sight. “Oh, stars,” you mutter and reach out for a bunch, gently caressing one of the petals. “What are these for?”

He shrugs dismissively and looks at Grogu to avoid your adoring gaze. “For you,” he states and bounces the little creature in his arms. You smile widely and look back at the flowers with pure joy, sniffing once again to enjoy the blissful aroma. Grogu squeaks to be let down and Din listens, placing him down. Uncertain of what else to say, he only stands back up and observes you taking in his gift.

“Why though? It’s not my bornday,” you bite your lip attempting to contain your excitement due to receiving such a thing from Din Djarin himself. Over the course of months you’ve got to know this stubborn Mandolorian, you knew expressing himself was one of the hardest things for him to do.

“I know.”

“Then?” you take a step towards him and avert your eyes toward the flowers once more.

He exhales and purses his lips, searching his mind for words to put together. “To thank you,” he trails off and notices your look of encouragement for him to keep going. “For everything you’ve done for Grogu and I. For me,” he adds and cringes at his weak explanation. “Look, you mean a lot to the kid, and me. Besides giving you some of my credits, my sleeping quarters, food and—” he begins to list off things he provides you with which should be a given, especially since he asked you to come along. You raise both your eyebrows in unamusement and cross your arms, tilting your head at him. He couldn’t hold back a grin at your sudden attitude and shakes his head. “I wanted to thank you for everything you do, with flowers. Because, they’re. Uh, flowers.”

You press your lips together and nod in acknowledgement, restraining yourself from insulting him like you usually did. For once, you believed this wasn’t the time to. You briefly avert your eyes back and forth between him and the flowers and decide to show him your thanks as well. You jump into his arms and hug him tightly, or at least attempt to hug him with his bulky clad of armor on. 

“Oof,” he mutters and freezes up at your unexpected actions, unsure of what to do.

“Hug me back, laser brain,” you grumble.

He feels an unfamiliar discomfort in his stomach, his heart beginning to quicken and his cheeks starting to warm up. In disbelief of this feeling, something he begins to remember he hasn’t felt in a long time, he smiles at the thought. He hugs you back, pulls you close and rests his chin upon your shoulder while wrapping his arms around your waist gingerly. “Thank you,” he mumbles softly.

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[justalitlecreacher]

Anakin Skywalker Deserved Better

Ive made this post before but it was really rough and i meant to edit it later and its later now but its been so long that i don’t feel like finding the og post so here we are. If it’s not obvious i care more than a normal amount about Anakin Skywalker.

Tl;Dr: I firmly believe that there are so many points in the prequel series, the clone wars, and even the comics that some level of intervention could have steered Anakin away from falling in Revenge of the Sith.

The Phantom Menace 

This is our first encounter with Anakin, and it does a decent job at introducing us to him. This movie sets up his tragic backstory™️ and gives us a good look at his personality; Anakin appears selfless and eager to help complete strangers in return for nothin when he first brings Qui-Gon and crew to his home to give them shelter, and then risks his life in the podrace to help them afford the part they need to fix their ship. Aside from introducing and developing Anakin not much else happens until Qui-Gon brings Anakin before the Jedi Council where they decide he is too old and there is already too much anger in him to be trained as a Jedi. Qui-Gon disagress, but we move on to Naboo where 9-year old Anakin blows up a very large ship all; by himslef w/ autopilot ( they grow up so fast), Qui-Gon dies, and we get our first look at Palpatine being creepy in hindsight, “And you, young Skywalker, we will watch your career with great interest.” not all that weird out of context but uncomfy when you remember who Palpatine is.

Before we move on i actually want to flashback to Anakin’s first encounter with the Jedi Council. For a group of people who constantly take in and raise children, the Jedi seem to do a poor job interacting with them. A kind of infuriating thing about this scene is that the Jedi seem to shame Anakin for being afraid (no matter how much Anakin himself denies that fear). This scene does a really good job at setting up how the Jedi consistently fail to take into account that Anakin is fundamentally incapable of being a “normal” Jedi. Anakin has had a fundamentally different childhood than any other Jedi and absolutely needed more help and support than the average Padawan from the very beginning. Granted it is possible that the Jedi tried to get him the help and support he needed, but if they did we can infer they failed from Dooku’s line in Revenge of the Sith, “I sense great fear in you, Skywalker. You have hate, you have anger, but you don’t use them.”

Obi-Wan And Anakin Comic

The Obi-Wan and Anakin comics take place sometime between The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones. The story focuses on Anakin and Obi-Wan investigating a distress signal on a planet that has been destroyed by war. The comic also flashes back to reveal that Anakin is thinking of leaving the Jedi Order after Palpatine shows him the dark side of Coruscant, and tells him that neither the Jedi nor the Senate will be able to do anything about it. We get more creepy (not just in hindsight this time) moments out of Palpatine here. The first one is when he uses his position as Chancellor to gain access to Anakin under the guise of “helping” him.  “Why young Skywalker is a Jedi, is he not? The Jedi are under the Senate’s jurisdiction. And as I am the Chancellor of the Senate...”. Palpatine proceeds to take Anakin to a club of some kind where they see a corrupt senator gambling; Palpatine also mentions how “Lives are bought and sold here everyday” he then makes a show of apologizing for bringing it up considering Anakin’s past.Without context this would seem harmless enough, but with the context of Palpatine’s true identity it is more likely a ploy to subelty remind Anakin of how the Jedi and Senate are unable or unwilling to intervene on Tatooine or the rest of the Outer Rim. Palpatine reminding Anakin of the Senate and Jedi’s inability to help everyone seems to be a running theme in their meeting as the series continues. 

Aside from Palpatine being a creep; we see that Anakin is still just as willing and eager to help as he was in The Phantom Menace. His skills in mechanics result in him being briefly kidnapped so that he can fix weapons that will help one side to win the war that has destroyed the planet. Seriously Anakin is just so ernest in these comics that i shed tears because i know how his story ends. 

One character that Obi-Wan and Anakin team up with to reach the distress signal first mistakes Anakin for Obi-Wan’s son, and then tells Obi-Wan, “He [Anakin] doesn’t think so. Kid idolizes you. You can see it” when Obi-Wan admits that he’s not sure he is the best suited to teach Anakin, and fears he has failed him in some way. As the story progresses, it is revealed in a flashback that after Anakin told Obi-Wan he wanted to leave the Order, Yoda sent the two of them on the mission they are currently on to give Anakin a chance to reconsider his decision, and Obi-Wan tells Yoda that if Anakin returned from the mission still wanting to leave the Order, Obi-Wan would leave with him to continue his training and keep his promise to Qui-Gon. 

Attack of the Clones

Back to the movies. Attack of the Clones reunites Obi-Wan and Anakin with Padmé Amidala when they are assigned to protect her from an assassin. One of ( if not the) most important elements to this movie are Anakin’s dreams/visions of his mother. Towards the beginning of the movie Anakin doesn’t explicitly say what the dreams are about, but it can be assumed that the dreams are unpleasant as he says, “I don't sleep well anymore.” in response to Obi-Wan commenting on him looking tired; going on to claim that he cannot sleep because of his dreams. Anakin later admits to Padmé that he worries about his mother. This is one of the key moments in Anakin’s life that set him up to fall in Revenge of the Sith. There is no reason i can think of that Anakin should not have been allowed to check on his mother if he was having dreams about her that prevented him from sleeping properly and made him worry for her safety. As Anakin says, “Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is central to a Jedi's life, so you might say we're encouraged to love.”. If compassion truly is central to a Jedi’s life, then surely they could at the very least send one of their 10,000 Jedi to check on Anakin’s mother if he could not? Is it compassion to deny someone the help they need? I find it hard to believe that Anakin would not have told Obi-Wan that he was worried about his mother going off of how close they appear to be in the previous comic. Especially after Anakin responds to Obi-Wan joking about Anakin being the death of him one day with, “Don't say that Master... You're the closest thing I have to a father... I love you. I don't want to cause you pain.” 

Anakin and Padmé arrive too late to save Shmi, and she dies in Anakin’s arms. This is a crucial moment leading up to Anakin’s fall as it shows Anakin that his dreams have a very real potential of coming true and likely results in him blaming himself at least partially for not insisting on checking on his mother or getting there sooner or doing anything different that may have allowed her to survive; it’s also the first time we see Anakin really lose control. There have been instances of him lashing out in anger before (turning a pair of padawans’ lightsabers against them when he hears them making fun of him behind his back), but nothing like what happens in the wake of Shmi’s death. Anakin wipes out the entire village of Tusken Raiders; children included. And while Anakin does express genuine remorse for his actions, he never faces consequences for them. It’s not even clear if anyone but Padmé ever finds out; Yoda claims to feel Anakin’s pain in the wake of his mother’s death, but does not appear to see Anakin’s actions, and is not shown to discuss what happened on Tatooine with Anakin at all.

Some light googling on my part revealed that in the novelization of Attack of the Clone, while Anakin did tell Obi-Wan about his mother’s death it was Padmé who told Obi-Wan how she had died, but Obi-Wan is unaware of what happened afterwards. “Anakin had told him of Shmi’s death; that was why he and Padmé had gone to Tatooine, he said. Obi-Wan had talked to Padmé later, and she had explained that Shmi had been kidnapped and killed by Tusken Raiders. Neither of them had been willing to go into much detail, and from what Obi-Wan knew of the Tusken Raiders, he didn’t blame them. It was no wonder Anakin seemed shaken, if his mother had been tortured and killed. One day, perhaps, Anakin would be willing to tell him the whole story.” Obi-Wan appears to know that there is more to the story than he has been told, but it content to wait until Anakin is ready to talk about it. I wonder if they ever had that conversation.

Anakin’s inability to save his mother even after the warnings he receives in his dreams likely leads to his desperation to save Padmé form the danger he believes her to be in later in Revenge of the Sith. He has been shown once before that his dreams can easily come true, and he is desperate to prevent this dream from coming true no matter what the cost may be. 

The Clone Wars

This is gonna be a long one; it’s gonna have to cover the most relevant episodes of The Clone Wars and oh boy that’s not a small amount. Im gonna try to go chronologically but bear with me (if you actually read this far you know what you got yourself into)

Assassin s3ep7

In this episode Ahsoka begins having visions of Padmé being assassinated similarly to how Anakin dreamed of his mother’s and later Padmé’s deaths. The difference with Ahsoka is that she is able to prevent the visions from becoming reality.  What i want to focus on in this episode is the reaction Ahsoka gets when she tells Yoda about her dreams. Yoda explains to her that her dream may be telling her something and provides her with the means to act on her visions to prevent them from becoming true.

When Anakin approaches Yoda about his dreams in Revenge of the Sith, Yoda simply tells him that death is natural and he must train himself to let go of everything he fears to lose. We could chalk this up to just a writing inconsistency, but i dont think i will. I would instead like to wonder why Yoda treats Ahsoka’s visions like they are something that can be changed but then treats Anakin’s like they are set in stone. Anakin has already proven himself capable of having true visions, and is more force sensitive than any other living Jedi. It makes no sense to dismiss Anakin’s feelings like this. All this to say looking into and helping Anakin to examine his dreams instead of telling him to let go when he has proven over and over to be incapable of doing so would likely have been significantly more helpful in the long run.

The Mortis Arc S3 Ep15-17

Honestly i dont have a lot to say on this arc aside how much psychic damage it dealt to see Anakin briefly turn to the dark side because he was so desperate o avoid the future The Son had shown him ( really hope everyone had the common sense not to bring that up to Anakin after the fact though).

 The Deception Arc S4 Ep15+18

In this arc Obi-Wan fakes his death in order to go undercover as the bounty hunter Rako Hardeen and uncover a plot to kidnap the Chancellor. This wouldn’t be a problem if they had brought Anakin in on the plan; instead they use Anakin’s reaction to Obi-Wan’s “death” to better sell the illusion. Obi-Wan even says, “Keeping Anakin on the outside was critical. Everyone knows how close we are. It was his reaction that sold the sniper. I'm sure of it.” Obi-Wan and the Council are fully aware of how much Obi-Wan means to Anakin, yet they all decide to use those feelings to their own advantage with little regard for the consequences.

On top of betraying Anakin’s trust; this move leads Anakin to doubt the Jedi Council and wonder what else they may be keeping from him if they  were willing to let him believe that Obi-Wan was dead as long as it suited their interests. “How many other lies have I been told by the Council? And how do you know that you even have the whole truth?”. 

I just cannot imagine why they thought they even had to use Obi-Wan for this plan. In the Obi-Wan and Anakin comic, Obi-Wan claims that there are 10,000 Jedi; surely there is someone less connected or with less attention on them who would be more suited to go undercover without the element of faking their death. Or if faking their death was necessary, surely they could have picked a Jedi who was not closely attached to arguably the most emotionally unstable Jedi in the Order. Anyone else would have been better. I don’t doubt that Anakin was telling the truth when he said, “If it was up to me I would kill you right here! But lucky for you, the man you murdered would rather see you rot in jail.”.

The Deception Arc just really grinds my gears because it really is almost like the Council wants Anakin to fall. There really is no excuse for how they use his bond with Obi-Wan against him for their own gain. The Council and Obi-Wan know full well how much Anakin loves Obi-Wan (see Anakin referring to Obi-Wan as the closest thing he has to a father in Attack of the Clones), and chose to use this vulnerability against Anakin in the worst way possible. 

This arc really sets Anakin to later doubt Obi-Wan and the Council in Revenge of the Sith, and make it easier for Palpatine to convince Anakin that no Jedi would understand him and that they would likely kick him out of the order and not help him. ( heck he even has a recent memory of the Jedi expelling a 14 year old from the Order for the sake of not looking bad in the eyes of the Senate. “I understand your sentiment, Obi-Wan, but if the Council does as you suggest, it could be seen as an act of opposition to the Senate. I'm afraid we have little choice.” i might go more in depth on this one later but this doesn’t feel like the right place as this is a post about Anakin and i don’t want to make and Ahsoka centric arc all about him).  

That wraps up the Clone Wars! Finally!

Revenge of the Sith

Ok big finale. Revenge of the Sith; so close to being my favorite Star Wars movie, but it almost made me cry in the library so its my second favorite (Attack of the Clones is my favorite). 

I’ve already touched on the dreams Anakin has of Padmé’s death in the Clone Wars segment, but it bears repeating and i have more to touch on. Im not 100% if im misremembering or not but i cannot recall Anakin ever explicitly telling Palpatine about his dreams, but Palpatine knows that Anakin fears for Padmé’s life anyway. It’s possible that Anakin just told him off screen but a fic i read recently ( It’s called give me one more night by Spongyllama on AO3 and it is so worth the read) introduced me to the theory that it had been Palpatine sending Anakin the dreams to begin with.

This theory has a good amount of legs to stand on honestly. As mentioned previously, Anakin never tells Palpatine about his dreams, but Palpatine still knows exactly what to tell Anakin to best manipulate him. Furthermore; Anakin’s dreams very likely would never have come true if Anakin hadn’t fallen; Padmé reportedly dies of heartbreak, something that could not have happened had Anakin not fallen. All signs point to Palpatine being behind the dreams (and we know that Anakin and Palpatine are close by the time Attack of the Clones occurs so it’s not out of question that Anakin may have told Palpatine about the dreams about his mother, giving Palpatine the idea to use those dreams against him later)

Conclusion

Honestly the biggest thing i think the Jedi could have improved on was just trying to understand Anakin better. The average age for entering the order is 2 to 3 compared to Anakin’s 9. Anakin entered the order years after any other Jedi, and because of that was able to remember his mother and had formed attachments (or attachment but i digress) before he had even reached the order. It should have been obvious from the start that if Anakin were to ever become a successful Jedi he would need significantly more help than the usual padawan.

We frequently see Anakin scolded for forming attachments or being too emotional (see Clone Wars s1e6-7 where R2-D2 goes missing and Anakin suggests taking a squad out to look for him “Anakin, it's only a droid. You know attachment is not acceptable for a Jedi.”(Obi-Wan) “Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose.”(Yoda). etc etc)  But, to the best of my knowledge, we never really see anyone showing Anakin how to let go. Anakin lacks the tools he needs to properly deal with his emotions, so the best he can do is shove them down and pretend they don’t exist because to him that’s what a proper Jedi does. No one has ever told him otherwise. The explosion was inevitable.

Anakin Skywalker was a traumatized child who was most likely never taken to therapy or told how to deal with/ healthily show his emotions in any way other than to ignore them or push them aside on top of being manipulated by Sith Lord from a young age. With all these factors is it really a surprise that Palpatine was able to turn him?

ok im done; see yall next time ig

[pretend-writer]

Down Below (Chapter 69)

Summary: After being sent down on Earth with the other prisoners from the Ark, Y/N Reyes faces series of events and learns about survival. With new things happening around her, she is now starting a new chapter in her life.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader, John Murphy x reader, Raven Reyes x sister!reader

Word Count: 2.6k words

Warning: swearing, violence, hallucinations

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

The sound of shuffling woke me up, realizing that the last thing I remember was having an argument with Bellamy. Slowly opening my eyes, I saw a figure’s back towards me as they were digging through some stuff.

‘W-where are we?’ I mumbled, still trying to figure out why I was inside a building when we were in the woods earlier.

‘Y/N, you’re up.’ Echo turned around as she heard me, quickly kneeling next to me.

My thoughts automatically went to her and Bellamy, imagining the two of them kissing up in space; definitely not something I wanted to wake up to. Trying to get up, I felt aches everywhere in my body followed by a pounding in my head.

Hearing me wince, Echo spoke gently. ‘You’re in no shape to be moving around. The force field nearly killed you. Luckily, Jackson saved you just in time.

‘Yeah, lucky.’ I murmured, hopefully quiet enough that she didn’t hear me. That wasn’t the case as I knew she heard me. With a worried face, she looked at me.

‘I’m sorry Y/N.’ Echo blurted, biting her lip as she felt embarrassed. The tension I felt between us, I knew where she was going with this conversation. ‘He never mentioned about you. And the kiss... it just happened. I swear I didn’t know anything.’

As I sat up, I tried to avoid eye contact with her. I knew it wasn’t entirely her fault, she wouldn’t have known better. Echo was in a different clan before Praimfaya, It was not like Bellamy and I announced our relationship as if it was some big celebration.

Not that any of that mattered, really. After all, Bellamy was the one that committed to our relationship and broke the trust between us. Even with that logic in my head, I felt some type of way towards Echo.

‘I don’t care anymore.’ I lied, mostly to convince myself to forget and move on but it was hard when people constantly reminded me of Bellamy and the things he had done. Even seeing him every single day hurt me, of course it was hard to forget. ‘Just forget it okay?’

‘No, that’s not right and I want to apologize to you personally. I hope you kno-’

Loud shouting was heard from outside, Echo and I quickly turned to where the voice was coming from. As I got on my feet, Echo shook her head. ‘Y/N, you’re recovering and nearly died. You need to rest.’

Knowing that it was John screaming from outside, I knew I had to help him. ‘I’ll be fine.’

Leaving the room, I went outside to check what was going on. My jaw immediately dropped, looking around the beautiful castle and the amazing atmosphere that surrounded it.

‘Woah.’ A word escaped my mouth as I saw how empty the place was, despite how astonishing and new everything seemed. How was all of this nice things built here but there were no signs of people anywhere? Something didn’t add up.

My mind shifted when I heard John yelling again, forgetting as I was distracted from the beautiful environment. I rushed towards his voice, revealing him and Bellamy having a heated conversation.

‘It’s your fault Bellamy!’ John shoved Bellamy.

‘I wasn-’ Bellamy paused as he looked over at me. ‘Reyes... you’re-’

John turned around, instantly walking over to me as he hugged me tightly. ‘Y/N oh my.. I’m so glad you’re okay.’

‘What’s going on?’ I looked around as Clarke, Miller, Jackson, Shaw and Emori surrounded Bellamy and Murphy.

‘You two left for five minutes and the next thing I know, you’re lying on the ground unconscious right next to Bellamy.’ John said with petty.

‘For the billionth time, we didn’t know there was something guarding the place. Why would I want to hurt Reyes?’

John chuckled sarcastically, ‘Maybe because I’m with her and you’re jealous? You’re mad you fucked up your own relationship, getting pissed at me and Y/N. How stupid.’

Clarke stood between Bellamy and Murphy. ‘Guys, that’s enough. Y/N is okay, that’s all that matters. We should get back to figuring out what this place is.’

I bit my lip. ‘I don’t think it’s a right idea for us to scout the place. We should just be polite and wait for someone to get back.’

Miller nodded. ‘I agree. We have to try to make a good impression. If there really is someone living here, the last thing we need is war.’

‘Polite... how cute.’ Emori laughed, ‘Skafaiya wants to be polite for the new people. Am I the only one that finds this funny?’

‘Can we please just focus on figuring out a way to find these people that may possibly still live here?' Shaw rolled his eyes, I bet we argued more than McCreary and Diyoza.

‘Come on, Y/N. Let’s talk now that we’re face to face.’ Emori approached me, ‘What are you going to tell these people huh? That you’re worthy of their time and space?’

My body was aching from whatever happened to me in the woods and I honestly just wanted to rest. Now knowing that it was just John and Bellamy bickering at each other again, I didn’t feel the need to start an argument myself.

‘Do we really have to do this? I’m not in the mood right now.’

‘So now you don’t want to be a psycho killer? Interesting.’

I rolled my eyes, I’ve cried and begged for people to forgive my disgusting act and frankly I didn’t feel like doing that again; Especially for Emori.

‘Y/N. Are you scared? You’re scared huh?’ Emori then screamed, glaring as her eyes showed pure hatred. ‘Y/N!’

‘Emori, just stop.’

‘No, fuck you.’ She ran towards me with a knife that she gripped tightly on her hand, jumping onto me without hesitation.

I tried really hard to fight her off but with my sore body, it was unlikely. The knife lightly went through my skin, causing my shoulder to slowly bleed.

Miller and Murphy each grabbed Emori’s arms, pulling her off of me as she kicked and screamed.

Clarke kneeled next to me, checking on my shoulder. ‘You seem to have a fan club, Y/N.’

‘Uhm guys?’ Echo came out from the building with a children’s book on her hand. ‘I seriously think other people live here.’

Jackson suddenly screamed, running towards Bellamy with an angry expression on his face. Bellamy’s eyes widened, confused about what was happening. ‘Jackson?’

Panic flushed across Echo’s face as she saw the way Jackson and Emori was acting, she turned her head to gaze the sky. ‘Shit.’

‘What?’ Clarke asked.

‘The book... it’s happening.’ Echo flipped the page, tracing her finger under the sentences. ‘The Red Sun. It has some sort of power that can make people lose their minds.’

Bellamy grunted, holding onto Jackson as he tried to reach out for him. ‘How do we stop this?’

‘We can’t. We have to wait until The Red Sun is gone.’

‘There were some chains inside some buildings. We have to get moving, now!’ Clarke got up, helping me stand up on my feet as well.

Tugging and pulling on Emori and Jackson, we finally got both of them chained up against the wall. Jackson stared at Miller with sad eyes, ‘Please baby. Don’t do this.’

‘I’m sorry, I have no choice.’ Miller murmured back at his boyfriend, chaining himself on the opposite side of the room.

‘You sure you want to stay in here?’ Bellamy asked Miller.

‘Yeah, I feel safe knowing how he’s doing. I’ll watch Emori too, don’t worry.’

Bellamy nodded, leaving Miller, Emori and Jackson as he led me to a different room. Supposedly, Clarke prepared her, Bellamy and I into a different room as Echo, Murphy and Shaw shared another room to be chained up until The Red Sun disappeared.

‘How can you trust me to be in the same room with you?’ I asked Bellamy, who was leading me to the room.

‘We’ll be chained. I’m sure we will be okay.’

‘You saw how Emori grazed my shoulder with her knife right?'

Bellamy turned to me with a worried face. ‘Surely, you’ll be fine.’

‘It’s not me I’m worried about.’

His raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re worried about me?’

‘Do you realize what you did to me? Emori nearly stabbed me and I'm scared to find out what I may do to you.'

Bellamy blinked, not sure how he felt about my statement. He stood for a moment, thinking thoroughly about what can possibly happen if my chains somehow came off. Sure, he hurt me and nothing can express how much pain he left me in but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I harmed him somehow.

As I helped both Clarke and Bellamy put the chains on their wrist, I went to my corner to get mine on as well. Before I locked my chain, I heard a voice calling for me.

‘Y/N!’ John yelled my name, sounded as if he was in trouble.

‘Hey, hey. It’s okay. What’s wrong Y/N?’ Clarke tried to calm me down as she saw me reacting to Murphy’s voice but unfortunately it didn’t help me at all.

‘I should go check on him.’ Immediately without thinking, I left and started looking for John despite hearing Bellamy calling me to come back to the room.

Running around this unfamiliar place, I used only John’s voice to figure out which building he was chained up at. Going door to door, I finally found the room Murphy, Shaw and Echo was in.

‘Y/N? What are you doing here?’ John jogged towards me, still not chained up. ‘You need to get back to your post before The Red Sun starts to affect you.’

‘You called for me.’

‘No I didn’t.’ John’s jaw dropped, grabbing onto my arm as he led me back outside the door. ‘Oh my- Y/N, it’s starting. You need to go back now.’

I shook my head, ‘No, no. I know what I heard. For all I know, you can be saying this to mess with my head.’

‘Y/N, I promise you it’s really me this time. Now I need you to go back and chain yourself so you can be safe, okay?'

‘Stay here, you deserve to die after what you did.’ Marcus suddenly stood in front of me, he looked angry as ever. The look on his face terrified me, giving me flashbacks of the fright and guilt I felt down at the bunker.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it, Marcus. You have to believe me.’ I whined as tears rolled down my face.

A light touch on my shoulder made me jump; It was John with a concerned look on his face. My thoughts were all over the place, not noticing why John was right here while I heard Marcus not too long ago.

‘It’s not real, Y/N. Listen to my voice.’ John spoke in a soft tone, trying to guide me back to reality. ‘Remember, Marcus is at the ship and he never came with us to the beach?’

His approach seemed to work because slowly, I’ve become aware of what was happening. Nodding in response, I kept repeating myself; The Red Sun, The Red Sun.

‘Yeah, The Red Sun.’ Murphy wrapped his arms around me, keeping me in a peaceful mindset which worked well.

‘Why isn’t it affecting you? This shit is so hard, I feel like I’m going insane.’

John laughed lightly, ‘I don’t know, I gues-’

‘Murphy!’ Bellamy stomped in front of us, shoving John off of me. ‘Are you fucking serious right now?’

‘Be-Bellamy, how did you get out?’ As I fought the voices in my head, I tried to stop Bellamy from attacking Murphy.

‘It’s just the Red Sun messing with your brain, you have to calm down Bellamy.’ John put his hand out, slowly backing away from him as he tried to reason with him.

He shook his head, chuckling devilishly as he stared at John. ‘What did you do to Y/N, huh? What do you have that I don’t?’

As I watched Bellamy and Murphy going back and forth, I saw Octavia and Marcus getting aggressive towards me; Calling me names and throwing bad words that I deserved to be said. It came to a point where I started believing that everything was real, perhaps Bellamy and John was the fake reality.

‘She was mine, you know? Reyes finally loved me and I-I fucked up.’ Bellamy sobbed, falling on his knees as he ran his fingers into the dirt. ‘Why, why am I so stupid?’

‘Let’s all head back into the building okay?’ John smiled at Bellamy, doing everything to convince him to listen to him. 'We can talk about this later.'

‘I’m a fuck up, I’m worthless and I’ve done everything wrong. Why am I like this?’ Bellamy clenching his hand, banging his fist onto the ground.

Murphy tried to pull him up, ‘You’re not a fuck up. You’re perfect Bellamy. Now let’s get up.’

‘No, no.’ He repeated over and over again, his cheeks getting wet from tears. Regret flushed across his face but I wasn’t completely sympathetic of his feelings as I was too busy fighting Octavia and Marcus in my head.

Bellamy got up as he pushed Murphy away, running towards the pond and sticking his head into the body of water. Seeing him in danger got me back into reality, I was still fighting in my mind but I knew I had to save Bellamy.

John rushed next to him, quickly pulling him out of the water. Bellamy coughed excessively, catching his breath as he shook his head.

‘Leave me to die, Murphy! Just leave me the fuck alone.’

‘Stop being so stubborn, now is really not the time.’ Murphy shoved Bellamy, soon the both of them going back and forth like brothers.

Bellamy then raised his fist, punching Murphy in his stomach. He groaned, cursing under his breath.

‘Alright. I know it's the Red Sun talking but you're getting on my last nerves.’ John said before he punched Bellamy in the face, leaving him unconscious.

My eyes widened as I rushed to the both of them. John rubbed his hand, hurting from punching Bellamy. ‘He’ll be okay. I’m sorry I had to punch him.’

I nodded, understanding why John did what he did. It was either watching Bellamy kill himself or potentially killing John, hurting him temporarily would’ve been better than waking up from this trance and seeing Bellamy drowning himself to death.

‘Y/N, you should go back to your post. I’ll watch Bellamy.’

‘What about you? What if suddenly you can’t control it anymore?’

‘I’ve been fighting demons all my life, The Red Sun is nothing.’ He chuckled lightly, making a joke out of himself. I knew that he wasn’t really kidding, feeling the pain through his statement.

I wanted to be here for John and I felt like I needed him as well. He helped me fight off the demons in my head that The Red Sun created, I didn't know if I can do it on my own or with Clarke sitting across from me for that matter.

'You'll be fine, Y/N.'

It was hard to try to walk away but I knew I had to. I slowly nodded, knowing that I had to go soon in case things got worse for me.

‘I’ll see you when this is all over John.’ I left him a kiss on his forehead as I left him and Bellamy by the pond.

[heavenunderthemoon]

Growing Pains {Chapter five}

warnings: mentions of alcohol, gun violence, murder

author’s note: sorry I've been away so long, I've been dealing with stuff. Anyways, hope you enjoy - Toby xx

January 2012

"Well, at least its just one night."

The bag against your shoulder dug into your skin and you stalked forward, plopping it down on the right side of the bed.

Spencer remained in the doorway, though the door was closed by now. He noticed hotel doors had a tendency to slam shut if someone wasn't holding them open, that familiar click of the lock shutting into place still ringing in his ears. He hadn't believed his luck when the flight had been grounded due to weather difficulties. Even more so when the team had been forced to sleep in a tiny, rundown motel whose rooms were scarce. Everyone was doubling up- actually, that wasn't true. Rossi wasn't doubling up, the man had argued since he was older he deserved a single room and the team knew better than to push against him, knowing any fight with him would likely lead to him rambling about his time serving in the war or starting the BAU, and they were far too tired to open that can of worms.

And then, to learn that he was assigned to sleep with you.

His face burned at the thought. Not sleep with. You know, not sexually. His palm tightened, and he was incredibly grateful that you hadn't suddenly gained the ability to read minds.

"There's one bed." He said, and even he could tell his voice was choked.

You looked up from your previous task of scanning the TV guide, eager to see if there was anything good on for the night. A perfectly tweezed brow was raised, lips quirking up.

"Well, you didn't become a profiler for nothing." It was a playful jest, one that made Spencer's chest relax slightly- just slightly.

"It's one night, Spencer. Besides, we don't even have to sleep."

If the man was drinking water he would've spit it out. "W-we don't?"

You fixed the Reid with a questioning stare, hand raising to point a finger at the fully stocked mini bar. Perhaps the motel was run down. Perhaps the woman at the front chainsmoked cigarettes and was half-asleep throughout checking, and maybe your bed smelled of mothballs and damp city water. But the bar was stocked, and that was good enough for you.

"We can drink." You answered dully.

Spencer's lips spluttered before he frowned. "Are we allowed?" And if it hadn't been Spencer who had asked you might've laughed. But you knew better. You knew that Spencer had probably never drinker from a hotel bar because he had only been in hotels when the job warranted it. Besides, even when the team went out the man hardly drank more than a couple glasses, always cutting himself off before he was affected.

"We're off duty, I don't see why not." You shrugged, backing up slowly before choosing a bottle of vodka. They were tiny, it was a minibar after all, but there was enough to do some damage and you held one up to Spencer, a silent offer. He still hadn't moved from the doorway, and you scanned his body language as you stared.

He was tense, shoulders pulled taut, that look on his face as though he were solving a puzzle. Sometimes you wished you could reach right into his mind and pluck him out of the hurricane he seemed trapped in. After a moment he seemed to concede with himself and took hesitant steps forward, grabbing the bottle and twisting it open.

He downed it in one go, your eyebrows shooting into your forehead.

He cleared his throat, dropping his own bag on the other side of the bed and plopping down on the mattress. It gave an awful squeak when he did and you met his eyes, a goofy smile taking over your lips. This was the most conversation the two of you had had in a very long time. So, you grabbed a bottle of your own, following his lead and downing the entire thing.

Making a decision, you scooped up the rest, nine or ten bottles more at least, and joined the man on the bed, dumping them on the comforter.

Spencer picked one up, you following his lead as the caps were twisted off in unison.

"Salud."

And down the liquid went.

- "Oh my god, ow, Spence that hurts." Your hands clutched your stomach, words coming out a slurred mess as the Reid roared in laughter, stumbling back onto the bed. The genius, it seemed, could do a rather incredible Hotch impression, his eyebrows furrowing in a way that had made you practically seize in laughter.

Empty bottles clinked as the bed dipped with his presence, your shoulder touching one another as you fell back, the two of you staring at the ceiling. The laughter subsiding, you glanced at the man. His cheeks were a rosy red, eyes alight with humor. His cheeks dimpled in the corners, and you ached to reach out and touch them, but you stopped yourself. His hair was a disheveled mess, the man constantly running his fingers through it. The tie that was around his neck was loosened considerably, his t-shirt untucked and slightly unbuttoned.

The skin it revealed made you flush, looking away.

Feeling the retreating eyes, Spencer glanced to his left, staring at your profile. He recalled doing the same as a child, looking at the chiseled edges of your jaw, the nape of your neck, the rosy tint of your lips. Something glittered on your chest- a necklace- and though it attracted his attention, it didn't seem to keep it, because his eyes were soon drawn to your neck, a light mark poking out from your shirt collar.

His mind still muddled from the alcohol, the Reid reached forward, his hand stopping short just before grazing it. Though the movement was enough to make your head turn back to him lazily.

When had your faces gotten so close together?

Spencer kept his hand between the two of you, eyebrows furrowing. "What happened?"

It didn't take much for you to know what he was referring to, but the alcohol in your system made you shrug. "What do you mean?" And your voice was husky enough to cut through his muffled thoughts and he almost buried his head in his pillow just to get ahold of himself.

But he didn't, eyes still glued on your neck. "That." He pointed. "That wasn't there when I left."

"A lot has happened since you left." And you hadn't skipped a beat.

You transferred to your side, slipping your right hand under your pillow and letting your hand do what it had wanted ever since you saw him on your first day. It grasped his, the man stiffening.

"Tell me." And he was quiet. Suddenly, he felt like a small boy again, whispering to you in the dark because you weren't supposed to be up so late. Vaguely, he registered the hotel's radio playing something, white noise that you had turned on somewhere between the third and fourth shot.

Part of him wondered why you both drank so much. But most of him knew why. He knew that you both needed the courage, needed something to hide behind if you were to speak again.

"Tell you what?" And you stared back into his eyes, the eyes that were so calculating. Eyes that overwhelmed you because it was like when he looked at you he was reading the manuscript for your soul and perhaps you might've been okay with that at one point in your life but too much had happened without him. He had skipped too many chapters and you didn't want him to spoil the ending.

"Everything. Tell me where you went without me."

The thought of doing so scared you. It scared you because when you looked at him, you didn't see anything other than concern. It was interest, like it was with Derek and JJ, and Emily. Like you were some new you to figure out. It wasn't poking and prodding for war stories to indulge in. It was concern, care for all the years he had left you alone.

You swallowed. "You stopped talking to me. Why?" You changed the subject.

Now it was Spencer's turn to pause. He stared at you, those bright eyes he thought about so often. Even if he hadn't had a photographic memory, those eyes would be etched into his skull, a fire blazing right behind them. Those were the eyes that saw past his intelligence, that saw him for what he was, what he had always been. "Long distance friendships tend to fizzle out."

Even as he said the words he knew they were a lie. They tasted foreign on his tongue, and he licked his lips after speaking them.

Your eyes narrowed. "You're a terrible liar."

He said nothing. You scooted closer, your knees were touching his. Your hair flopped as you moved. Had it always looked so shiny? He wondered idly. Your breath fanned on his cheeks. It smelled like vodka and...cherries? He breathed deeply.

"Tell me the truth."

Now he wasn't sure if his mind was fuzzy from the alcohol, or from simply being around you, but he decided he would listen, just as he always had when the two of you had grown up. Listening to you was something he knew to do instinctually, and so he did.

"I think I missed you too much and it scared me."

And there was the silence again. Silence and the radio and the hum of the radiator and the rain hitting the window. The lights flickered every so often, though your eyes never did leave his.

You thought back to those days of waiting by the phone, not wanting to call in case Spencer didn't pick up, the thought of getting rejected worse than you rejecting him.

"I...I don't get it."

Your eyebrows furrowed in the way Spencer liked, that little crease on your forehead popping out. He wanted to reach out and smooth it but thought better of it.

"Why didn't you talk to me when I first came to work with you? I thought you hated me until tonight." All the layers of yourself seemed to be unpeeled.

Spencer sighed, swallowing for a moment. "Same reason, I think." And he didn't really know. Not really. And it threw off his entire world because he always knew. He always knew the answer, he always knew everything. And of course it was you who had to topple his world.

"You stopped talking to me because you missed me?" You repeated, almost as if trying to understand. Spencer just shrugged, because as much as he didn't know, he knew that much was true.

"Too much." He said quietly. "Because talking to you hurt me. It hurt that you weren't right beside me, especially when-"

He cut himself off.

You stared at him a moment longer. That copper hair  becoming unruly, tie loosened, eyebrows knitted. So close to him, you could smell that same scent you smelled all those years ago. Lemon and cheap laundry detergent. Though now it had something new. A scent of leather.

"Especially when?"

He turned back to the ceiling, hand leaving yours to rest on his chest. "I asked you about your neck."

You snorted, coming to rest on your back as well. "Are we keeping score now?"

He didn't respond, simply waiting for an answer.

Your chest tightened, propping yourself on your elbows.

"I don't know if you can handle it." And you regarded him in that same softness that you used only with him. A softness that made him feel warm and safe and acknowledged not for his intelligence but for him. For his faults and his strengths and his humor and his friendship.

Suddenly feeling nervous, he sat up, legs folding until he were criss-cross applesauce. The sight made you smile smally, following his lead. "Tell me." He encouraged once more.

Your limbs still felt like jello, your words still not entirely clear, but even if you had been sober you knew you would've told him. Because he was Spencer. Because Spencer and you were best friends. No matter how much time passed, no matter how much happened in between. Best friends are best friends.

"What I did for the military...it wasn’t good."

He said nothing and after a moment you realized it was because he expected you to say more.

“I entered right after high school, I didn't really have plans, I was...lost. They helped me pay for college and after a while they realized I was pretty good at shooting. Exceptional, actually.” You gazed at him, gauging his reaction. He seemed to be actively listening so you continued. “I was a sniper. My superiors pointed there finger and I didn't need an explanation, I just...took them out. Real, living people that we had somehow had the ability to deign either good or evil. I looked through a tiny scope, I squeezed my trigger, and then they were gone.” 

“My neck,” Your hand went up to touch the raised skin, your reminder for what you had done. “It was a price I had to pay. Someone tipped off my target, they had someone trying to snipe me. I caught the flash of the gun just in time, ducked out of the way. The bullet grazed my neck, and then embedded itself in my partner’s chest.” Your fingers left the scar, coming back to rest in your lap.  “I was pulled out after that, and then I got contacted from Hotch. My superiors had sent in resumes and applications for me, recommendations on my behalf. That's how I got the job."

"How long?" He asked.

You looked down at your watch, that worn, leather band. "Ten years."

The Reid nodded, that thoughtfulness returning.

The song on the radio changed.

The wind picked up.

The radiator stopped humming.

"You can ask." You said after a moment.

He stared at you, wondering if you actually could read minds. "How many people did you kill?"

A harsh swallow. "Too many."

He nodded again.

The radiator picked back up.

The light flickered again.

"Especially when I had a crush on you." Spencer evened the playing field. He owed you an answer after all. He glanced down, picking at his shoelace. He remembered those days after leaving home. The days spent walking around campus, thinking of you every time something happened, something he wanted to tell you about. He remembered shoving himself in that tiny phone booth, dreaming about when he would see you in person again. He remembered writing hundreds of letters, letters he never sent out because he didn't want you to think he was weird. He remembered making that decision, that decision that he had always played off as a mistake, to miss phone calls, to faze you out, because the thought of you rejecting him was far too painful to try.

"You liked me?" You asked dazedly. And now you were remembering. You were remembering hanging from trees with him, hands interlocked because if one of you fell at least you fell together. You remembered him signing your cast, a faint blush on your cheek when he drew a heart. You remembered being teased by your brothers relentlessly when they found a card you had made the boy for Valentine's Day- something you had ripped up and thrown in the trash immediately after because the thought of him reacting the same made you ache.

"Wait." You paused, remembering something. "You said you didn't talk to me when I first came for the same reason." He was silent as you looked at him. Did this mean that...that he still liked you? The thought was juvenile in its entirety, but you liked how it felt. You liked how it felt to be young again and that's precisely how Spencer made you feel. He made you forget those years without him, forget the places you had been, the bodies you had dropped, because it was just you and him.

He glance up, almost as if to guard your reaction, and was shocked to find a goofy smile on your lips. He tilted his head like a puppy, eyebrows furrowing. "What?"

You remembered the times he had visited you when you were sick, read to you when you were sad, drawn you pictures when you needed a laugh. You remembered teaching him to tie his shoes, jumping into the community swimming pool, drawing on the sidewalk with chalk. You remembered Fourth of July, the scent of fireworks and orange soda. You remembered pinky promises and best friend necklaces and calls to his college. You remembered loving him, and part of you wondered if you had ever stopped.

The bottles on the bed clinked as you moved forward, your hands going to the man's cheeks as your lips connected with his. He stiffened, and you pulled away, afraid you had made a mistake, before he was placing his hand on the back of your head and guiding you back toward him.

You tasted of vodka and cherries- yes, he was sure it was cherries now. Your hair was soft beneath his touch and you mewled at the feel of his touch.

The bed squeaked brutally as he pushed your back onto the bed, his lips driving you mad.

And the two of you became lost in a vodka driven daze.

Sorry I don't wanna write smut right now l m a o BUT!!!! one bed trope!! I've always wanted to do that!!! Hope you all enjoyed:)

- Toby xx

TAGLIST : @fangurl215 @lauren2408 @moonstarrnghtsky @uwu-sebastianstan @criminalminds4days @tclaerh  @gamegrumpiess @mggsprettygirl 

[fairiesherefairiesthere]

Of gods, demons and the longevity of true love.

My entry for the last day of fraxusweek hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus !!!

Prompt: Tarot/Legends and Mythology

"What are those things still doing around here?" Laxus asks brazenly, watching a few demons scurry away with disdain clear in his eyes. His grandfather, ever the spineless pacifist twacks his kneecaps with his walking stick before answering. "You young insolent fool. They are an integral part of our society."

Before the old man can continue his explanation, Laxus scoffs. "Are they though?" he asks, not willing to hear a possible answer. "I fought with that lightning demon earlier and his power is laughable. I could've killed him and taken over his domain and the world would've kept on turning. They're evil beings without a purpose, you should've just got rid of them a long time ago."

Rest of the fic under the cut!

"Laxus." His grandfather's voice has taken on that specific kind of tone that suggests that he's more than displeased at his opinion, but Laxus can't bring himself to care. In a world of gods, demons and humans, are the demons really needed? Didn't his grandfather wage a war on them because they kept corrupting humans? His grandfather is a contradicting fool, really.

"What. All they're good for is corruption, right? We can live without that."

"Is that truly what you think?" his grandfather asks and Laxus snorts in response. "Have you raised me to think otherwise?" When he gets no immediate answer, he rolls his eyes and turns to leave. "Laxus wait", his grandfathers gently orders him and gestures for him to sit down next to him. He doesn't do that, unwilling to give the old man that much, but he does halt his stride and turn around.

"I used to think like that", his grandfather confesses as though it's a surprise, as though that sentiment isn't alive and thriving. "But I changed my mind after I experienced their so-called corruption myself. It's not what you think it is and I implore you to do the same thing before saying such callous things." He pauses as though the silence would fortify his statement. "You're full of shit", Laxus answers pointedly, having heard enough. He doesn't bid his grandfather goodbye as he leaves. That day, it storms and lightning wreaks havoc upon the unsuspecting townspeople.

The next day, he has the pleasure to explain the reasons behind his little lightning spectacle to the goddess of script, words, letters, alphabets yada yada, he isn't that interested. He also doesn't get why she's so insistent on writing everything down, keeping logs of all godly activity. It's annoying. She keeps blabbering about immortalising the gods through words, but doesn't their innate immortality defy that? Interrupting her spiel about the importance of script, he asks her a question that's been weighing on his mind.

"Tiny," ignoring the indignant squeak escaping her he continues, "You're smart right? What's your opinion on demons?" Immediately, the shift in the mood becomes palpable. With a nervous chuckle, she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ears. "Well...", she starts and coughs akwardly. "That's quite the loaded question, isn't it?"

He gets her unease. The war between demons and gods had started eons ago and had only come to a sudden stop recently. Outwardly, the gods all seemed to have become all fine and dandy with demons being allowed to interact with them and humans, but they both know the that isn't the truth. The message of 'demons are totes a-okay!' is so recent and none of them truly believe it. But not a single person can go against Makarov's wishes, so they take part in the façade.

Seeing her discomfort, he inwardly sighs. Although he won't deny that he's an asshole, it takes a whole different kind of asshole to force an answer out of petite Levy who looks like she could be snapped in half by him. Furthermore, she'd have to put this conversation in her records and probably have another moral breakdown. "Never mind it squirt, you keep doing your thing", he says and ruffles her hair while she bravely tries to fend him off. She still ends up with a bird's nest though.

Realising that no one's going to share their opinions of the other camp, he decides to take the easy way out. Instead, he decides to march straight into the other camp. If you want to know something, the best way is to get it directly from the source, right?

Apparently, it isn't. Little demon children (it's disturbing how innocence and something vile can coexist like that) quickly hide behind their mother's skirt as he walks between them. Conversations fall silent and only slowly pick up again when they think he's out of earshot. He's always taken pride in his grand stature, but right now it feels horribly out of place and he wonders if there's anything he can do to make himself look smaller, to not frighten these people as much.

The obvious discomfort his presence brings isn't worth it to him. Sure, he could keep forcing himself into their space, but he'd garner no positive results. He's quite sure he wouldn't even garner any results at all, since no one wanted to approach him. Realising this, he turns around to go back to the palace.

His grandfather finds him sitting on the edge of an open window, mulling over his thoughts and wondering how to change his approach. Those things seemed to be scared, something that doesn't add up in Laxus' head. Were they not the ones who turned humans against gods? Were they not the enemy? Were they shoving the most innocent of them to the forefront so that, upon entering their domain, outsiders would see them as guiltless beings?

"If you keep that, you'll damage whatever brains you have left", his grandfather teases him as he comes to stand next to Laxus. Rolling his eyes, he merely grunts at his grandfather in return. "What's got you thinking so hard my boy?" he asks and for a moment, Laxus closes his eyes and lets the warmth of his grandfather's voice trickle over him. For the briefest of moments, it's nice to pretend he's still a newly made god who thinks he knows how everything works.

"I went to visit those things-"

"At least call them people", his grandfather interrupts him and with a sigh, Laxus does so and continues. "I visited them", he says, eyes full of challenge, but his grandfather merely nods encouragingly. "I still can't see why you keep them around. They're more trouble than they're worth."

"I figured that you'd say that, so I arranged for a very special meeting. Do you want to meet the demon that changed my mind and made me spare their whole kind in the midst of a battle?" Because it seems like the only option left to satisfy his curiosity, Laxus agrees. While they walk through the castle in search of him, his grandfather explains who the demon in question is. Apparently, he could be seen as Levy's demon counterpart when comparing the domains they rule over. Laxus wonders what kind of words the demon must've pulled out of his ass to convince his grandfather to not kill them all.

After listening to his grandfather's long and winded character introduction, Laxus had expected a meeting with an old, gray man who constantly spouted unwanted advice like a fountain of fortune cookies. A single look at the young man before him proves him completely wrong.

He's definitely not old, in fact, his youthful face seems to suggest that he's younger than Laxus himself. There's a hint of muted curiosity there, suppressed childlike wonder that Laxus himself feels too. Because Laxus is focusing on the other man's looks that much, he quickly comes to the realisation that the man in front of him is devastatingly handsome. As soon as the realisation hits him, he colours a bright red and redirects his gaze to the very interesting tips of his shoes.

A deep chuckle makes his gaze snap back to the other man who gives him an amused halfsmirk. It's terribly attractive. Clearing his throat, his grandfather gestures to the man. "Laxus, meet the demon who rules over the scripts, speaks all tongues-"

"Freed", the man interrupts and offers Laxus his hand. Awkwardly Laxus accepts it while his grandfather frowns. "What are you freed from?" Laxus asks and immediately, his grandfather groans. The gorgeous man in front of him simply laughs, pretty lights dancing in his visible eye. "Freed is my name", he clarifies and Laxus wishes he was the god of being able to be swallowed by floors.

"What brings you here?", he asks Laxus. Not wanting to be ignored, his grandfather steps in. "Laxus wanted to know what demons were worth and I believe you would be the perfect person to show him that."

With a cool smile, Freed turns to his grandfather. "Well then Makarov, you thought wrong. Good day, gentlemen." Then he turns on his heel and departs, leaving both of them stunned. After a while, Makarov coughs. "I'm sure you're smart to figure it out yourself", he encourages Laxus before swiftly taking his exit as well.

Pissed off, Laxus spends the rest of the day making up less than savoury nicknames for Freed. Annoyed that the list of quite creative insults isn't helping him reach his goal any faster, he decides that he can't let this chance escape. Determined to know why demons are still allowed to exist, he hunts the man down. Laxus Dreyar is many things, but a quitter isn't one of them.

Maybe asking "Why are you still allowed to live?" isn't the most polite of questions to start with. Maybe, one shouldn't ever utter those words at all. But Laxus has a mouth that runs quicker than his brain and so, he has wedged himself between a rock and a hard place.

"Why not?" Freed shoots back, not unfriendly per se but there's an edge in his voice, ready to cut at any moment. "Tell me, why must I die?"

It's a question so direct that Laxus fumbles before answering. "You lot are corrupting humans, giving them things they aren't supposed to have. You're crossing boundaries you aren't supposed to cross." It's an adequate enough answer, it's something he's been told all his life.

"Who set those boundaries then?" Freed asks before shaking his head with a little laugh. "And giving humans things? Oh no, we're tricksters my dear, we don't give anyone anything. Surely we might inspire, but we do not give. Every choice one of those little ones down below makes, is one of their own. Don't underestimate the human will. Now please excuse me, I'm done talking for today."

"Wait", Laxus says and grabs the other man's arm, intending to halt his stride. With a brusque movement Freed breaks free and when Laxus catches a glimpse of his eyes, he thinks he's come a lot of steps closer to knowing what the flaming pits of hell look like. That fiery expression is quickly schooled back into careful neutrality as Freed opens his mouth to fire off a snappy remark.

"You're a funny lot, you gods. It's your way or none at all, isn't it? Why? Your hubris knows no bounds." After that, the man's gone before Laxus can ask him to stay.

The following day, Laxus seeks him out again and finds Freed sitting on the edge of an ornate fountain, bared feet dipping into the water as gods stand by and whisper from a distance. "Can I talk to you?" he politely asks and is met with an uncompromising "No".

"I just wanted to apologize", he mumbles and Freed gives him a flat look before disappearing again. Wondering what he did wrong, he spends the rest of his day at the fountain, feet splashing in the water as though he was still a child.

The next day, he once again seeks out Freed, asking if it were an appropriate moment to talk and once more, Freed tells him no. This time Laxus gives him a steady nod before leaving himself. Forcing the other man to talk to him would never work and honestly, Laxus doesn't want to force a relationship with anyone. Should Freed ever want to talk to him, he'd have no problem finding him.

For a few days he doesn't even see Freed until one day, the man pops up on his windowsill, perching on there like a cat basking in the sun. He's gorgeous, Laxus realises once more, with his hair losely draped over a shoulder and dark wings and horns reflecting the sunlight with a gentle shimmer. He's alluring, pulchritudinous. Laxus frowns. That last one is definitely not a word that was in his vocabulary before.

"Am I inspiring you yet?" Freed asks with a wicked grin, sinfully stretching himself on the windowsill. "Are my devilish charms working?" he adds and Laxus nods, a bit stupefied. "Now, you've been meaning to ask me something, right? You want to know why my species and I are allowed to live, why your grandfather decided to spare me on the battlefield."

Another nod. "My grandfather said he decided to spare you after he witnessed your 'corruption' himself. I want to know what words you said, you demon of words, letters, -"

"I said nothing at all", Freed interrupts him softly. "I didn't say a thing as he held me against the ground, knife in one hand with the other one on my throat. I merely cried because I was scared, I wholeheartedly believed I was going to die. My tears hit his hand and in that moment, the god who created all gods looked human."

Sensing the disbelief in Laxus, Freed only shrugs. "I think it's the first time he saw emotions that he hadn't created. You lot were made by him, every god carved to perfection by his hand. Every tear you've shed, every laugh you've laughed, they were implanted in you by him. We demons tempt you to let go of that prefabricated self, to explore your own self. Becoming your own person separated from Makarov's making comes at the price of immortality and thus, humans were born. Gods who were such no more."

With a whistful sigh, Freed shakes his head. "But parents get mad once you escape their tutelage and to protect their children, they will eliminate that which forms a threat to their children. And so the war began and for every child lost, a new one was made on your side. We demons have no almighty creator, we are born from stray magic of mother nature herself. We happen to be. So during one of those battles, I happened to be there and I think the confrontation with genuine emotion made him realise that he was not destroying something of his own making that he could simply rebuild. Just like humans, when we do die, we return to the earth."

It's a bit of a heavy pill to swallow. With an uncomfortable laugh, Laxus rubs the back of his head. "Guess you're not too big of a fan of my grandpa then?" Freed gives him a chuckle in return.

"Definitely no. And also, a bit yes. I just think he's been lonely for a long time and thus, has become very protective over his company. I think he's making strides in the right direction, but he's not unifying anyone. He still expects you all to just follow his wishes, well-intended as they are. But you all have come in contact with us, haven't you? You're not completely his anymore, so you are unable to blindly follow. He should educate you instead of ordering you, but that's just my two cents."

"I'm starting to get it", Laxus carefully says as he mulls over Freed's explanation. "You're allowed to live because nature made you with specific purposes outside my grandfather's realm of ruling. Freed laughs at his scrunched up pensive face and boops his nose.

"We're not even at my true point yet dear. Here's my gripe, my core issue if you want: must have something have a purpose or reason to exist at all? I have already mentioned it, but we demons happen to be and so are humans in a certain way. There's no reason or purpose behind our existance, we are not fabricated with definite goal. You gods were and I think that defines a lot of your thinking. But at our core, isn't simply being enough? Doesn't being give you more freedom to do something, anything than a prefabricated destiny? One should not have a purpose to be allowed to live, but finding purposes in life is what makes it worth living. But even that you, who are immortal, can not grasp. It's a bit pitiful isn't it, a god's existance?" With that and a kiss on the cheek, Freed leaves him to stew in his thoughts.

Once he's talked more about it with Freed over the span over a longer time, the clearer the division becomes between gods, demons and humans. Seeing the obvious divide, Laxus turns to his grandfather with his thoughts and ideas for a unification. Obviously, the old man has difficulties with being confronted by his own mistakes like that, but at least he attempts to do better.

The progress is slow and every once in a while there's a major setback that throws a wrench in the relationship between the demons and the gods. But steadily, over eons, the undercurrent of vicious hatred disappears and it's at that moment that a different union happens. Laxus can't think of a life without this clever, misschievous man at his side and the affections are returned. Their marriage is something that brings the relation between demons and gods to a higher level, evens the playing ground even more.

Whether their opnions be good or not, every god has one on the union. "It really strenghtens their critical thinking, doesn't it?" Freed jokes as he reads one of the letters totally decimating him. "They're absolutely nae nae'ing me."

They exchange a few meaningful glances and Freed breaks the silence first with a sigh. "Every day we stray further from Makarov's light. Everyone has something to say nowadays." He gives Laxus a thoughtful look. "You know what this means, right?"

"Our immortality fades. We become humans."

Freed gives him a hum, confirming his speculations. "Gramps will become lonely again then", Laxus realises and with a heavy heart, he knows he doesn't want that to happen.

"I don't think he'll be around for that long", Freed confesses and presses a kiss to the corner of Laxus' lips to ease the lines of worry there. "Fear not for him my love, he is old and his children have grown up. He has found a purpose that brought him joy and now that purpose has reached it's peak. His life is a fulfilled one, prepare to let him go."

And let go of him they do, eventually. It leaves the gods without power, devoid of immortality but with a new sense of peace. "A parting gift", Freed whispers and Laxus draws his husband into the tightest of hugs. "Should I give you one too, when I eventually die?"

Freed shakes his head. "My dearest love, there's nowhere you can go where I won't follow. You've been feeling it too, haven't you? We're entering a new time, where a divide won't be there anymore. We will simply be humans, all of us."

When the time to fade comes, they know and are ready for it. Everyone's been feeling it, but there's a peace that shields them all  from true fear. There's an intimate knowledge that this is one of the changes that simply is, that simply happens.

Freed and Laxus are sitting hand in hand, with their feet idly splashing into the fountain as unworried children would do. "When we meet again, because there are no ifs about it, will you greet me as a friend?" Freed softly asks as his eyes close themselves and Laxus whispers back: "My love, I'd greet you as a lover."

Bonus:

University lectures aren't always the most interesting, but this one is certainly turning out to be. A guy a few rows before him looks about ready to fistfight the professor about nihilism of all things. He can't properly hear them, but clearly the confrontation is over and the guy whirls away from the prof, heading straight for the door. Laxus decides to follow him.

"Why were you defending a belief that says human life is useless and meaningless? I think we all have a defined purpose", Laxus says, daring the other man the answer.

And answer, he does, with eyes blazing like the gates of hell. "Life is inherently meaningless", he says with certainty, "But that's because it's filled with the opportunity to create your own meaning. You may be waiting for divine intervention, but I'll create my own destiny."

Laxus smiles then, the familiarity and the warmth returning to his soul. "Then I'll do too", he says, "You've always inspired me, my love."

Whether they be human or something else, their kisses keep tasting the same.

[theperplexityoftheunknown]

What is a relationship to be continued

You may ask yourself why this is Important yet it is very important! We will discuss Why they are important to your well being and what type of person you are in a relationship? I think if you take the time to read this post in its entirety and intense complexity you will have a better understanding of where you are in life and what more you can become by understanding the perplexity of every relation to man or relationship because trust me THIS BABY is going to get TOUGH.

Lets start of with the first question what is a relationship

the way in which two or more people, groups, countries, etc., talk to, behave toward, and deal with each other. : a romantic or sexual friendship between two people. : the way in which two or more people or things are connected.

Please go ahead and read one more time because that may or may not be the closest thing of a relationship to that you have a mutual relation  and understanding of but its way, way more complex just keep reading.

Each relationship we have encountered has been determined by how we were raised Im going to refer to some quick psycho-social information coming from a study introduced during world war 2 by British psychoanalyst john bowbly, whose lonely childhood gave him a lifelong interest in the power of parenthood.

In the 1970s a test was conducted by Bowlby’s student Mary Ainsworth. She performed the strange situation test where children that's age ranged from 12-18 months were put  in a toy-filled room with their mother and given a chance to play. A stranger enters and interacts with the parent and child,then mom exited the room-- leaving behind a confused and alarmed little kid. A few minutes later mom returned and comforted her toddler. Needless to say being separated from the person who feeds, protects, and tends to you is frighting for any toddler, but the test showed definite categories of reaction to that fear.

Why is this important ?

Early Attachment.

As seen above you can see that a study was conducted concerning attachment styles. It's important because it is with this information that you find out what type of relationships You are going to be compatible with. Some types absolutely do not collide but if you think this is all about “how do i form a relationship” well keep reading because its not possible for everyone.

1 Secure, when it is evident to have a secure attachment style when the parenting style was: Warm, attentive,relatively consistent, and quick to respond based on that approach the child's Baseline Emotional Status (BES) would have been happy, confident, and curious which would have subconsciously continues into adulthood with the Child’s expectation of life being: My need will be met

2. Anxious -Ambivalent/resistant, it is evident to have an anxious attachment style when the parenting style was: Inconsistent: sometimes responsive and sometimes not. The Child's BES would have been Insecure, anxious, and intensely emotional which in return would have subconsciously continued into adulthood with the child's expectation of life being: “IF i act in the right ways, I might earn love and my needs may be met”

3. Avioident- ,it is evident to have a avoidant attachment style when the parenting style was: Distant and Cold, or harsh and critical. The child's BES would have been Emotionally shut down which in return would have subconsciously continued into adulthood with the child's expectation of life being: “I can't trust anyone to meet my needs. I must meet my own needs.

Im sure your getting the idea of why this is now important

Lets looks at three statements

1 I find it relatively easy to get close to others and am comfortable depending on them. I don't often worry about being abandoned or about someone getting too close to me.

2. I find that others are reluctant to get as close as I would like. I often worry that my partner doesn't really love me or doesn't want to stay with me. I want to get very close to my partner, and this sometimes scares people away.

3 i am somewhat uncomfortable being close to others:  i find it difficult to trust them completely, difficult to allow myself to depend on them. I am nervous when anyone gets too close, and often, love partners want me to be more intimate than i feel comfortable being

In 1987 psychologist cindy hazan and philip shaver reported the results of the statements above  they called it the ‘love quiz’

56% of adults respondents had identified themselves as secure, 19% as anxious and 25% as avoidant

The perfect combination

Secure people tend to have the most secure relationships, and a relationship needs only ONE secure partner to get that stability. With a partner who is happy to give reassurance and isn't threatened by the idea of being needed, an anxious person can relax, and is often loyal and loving. With someone who doesn't take it personally when their partner wants time alone,avoidant people can worry less about being tied down- however, most of the compromises in the relationship will likely be made by the secure partner. The real problem comes when two insecure types get together. If relationships often get messy for you, learning to recognize attachment styles and understanding how they clash can give you a path through the conflict

But then again Here comes perhaps the most perlex question i can ask? What happens in adult hood when you experience the pain and turama of a heartbreak?

What particularly does that do to each individual and how do they cope?

Do some people perhaps just shut down! Absolutely not! One subconsciously gains the ability to cope with their losses how? Lets start with:

Sexual compulsion – Relationship with sex, attachment and sexual orientation

I know your wondering What the Fuck where did this just turn to but trust me, or dont but you may or may not want to hear this or perhaps your brain craves the knowledge to understand and you ask yourself why your life is working in the way it is; remembemer its all in you!

I believe the first coping skill for some may be Hypersexuallity which I will refer to later.

2. I believe a conduct Disorder  DSM-IV-TR 314.9 Is primary consistent with feelings of Emotional shock from a previous ‘heartbreaking’ or traumatic event.

I will explain. I'm going to refer to the diagnostic features of conduct disorder which manifest itself  as a repetitive and persistent pattern in  which the basic rights of others or major age-appropriate societal norms or rules are violated. These behaviours fall into four main groupings” Criteria A1-A7 aggressive conduct that causes or threatens physical harm to other people or animals .

Or see criteria A8-A9 nonaggressive conduct that causes property loss or damage Or see A9 - A13, DECEITFULNESS OR THEFT

It is definite that promiscuous behavior is dangerous therefore someone engaging in Criteria a1-a7 w/o aggression and associated with parts or in hole with A8-9

Furthermore  the prevalence of conduct disorder appears to have increased over the last decades and may be higher in urban than in rural settings.

Course.

Individuals with conduct disorder are at risk for later mood disorders, anxiety disorders, somatoform disorders, and substance related disorders.

Sexual addiction, also known as hypersexual disorder, is associated with serious psychosocial problems for many people.

Sexual addiction, which is also known as hypersexual disorder, has been associated with serious psychosocial problems for many people although it has not been recognized as a disorder that merits inclusion in the DSM (Quadland, 1985) – see Karila et al. (2014) for review. Originally, Carnes (1983)published a book titled Out of the shadows: Understanding sexual addiction, which has raised interest in the area and facilitated a discussion on the best way to define and diagnose the disorder. Despite different views about pathological characteristics of sexual addiction there is an agreement that this is a progressive relapsing condition which does not merely refer to a pathological diagnosis of sexual lifestyle that is socially deviant (Edger, 2010).

Sexual addiction involves compulsive behaviors such as constantly seeking new sexual partners, having frequent sexual encounters, engaging in compulsive masturbation and frequently using pornography. Despite efforts to reduce or stop excessive sexual behaviors individuals find it difficult to stop and they engage in risky sexual activities, pay for sexual services and resist behavioral changes to avert HIV risk (Carnes, 1991; Coleman-Kennedy & Pendley, 2002; Coleman, Raymond & McBean, 2003; Kalichman & Rompa, 1995). Sexual compulsivity has been associated with the number of unprotected vaginal sex acts with female sexual workers, lower self-efficacy for condom use, greater use of illicit drugs, and more financial need (Semple et al., 2010).

Cognitive and emotional symptoms include obsessive thoughts of sex, feelings of guilt about excessive sexual behavior, the desire to escape from or suppress unpleasant emotions, loneliness, boredom, low self-esteem, shame, secrecy regarding sexual behaviors, rationalization about the continuation of sexual behaviors, indifference toward a regular sexual partner, a preference for anonymous sex, a tendency to disconnect intimacy from sex, and an absence of control in many aspects of life (Carnes, 2000, 2001; Carnes & Schneider, 2000; Coleman et al., 2003; Coleman-Kennedy & Pendley, 2002). Finally, some studies find that sexual addiction is associated with or in response to dysphoric affects (Black, Kehrberg, Flumerfelt & Schlosser, 1997; Raymond, Coleman & Miner, 2003; Reid, 2007; Reid, Carpenter, Spackman & Willes, 2008; Reid & Carpenter, 2009) or stressful life events (Miner et al., 2007).

Attachment theory (Bowlby, 1979, 1982) argued that early attachment experiences affect personal and social life, professional relationships, dealing with stress, mental and physical health and cognitive development. According to recent developments in attachment theory, those who developed a safe attachment style which is not anxious or avoidant during infancy can form healthy relationships in adolescence and adulthood and handle life problems (Uytun, Oztop, Esel & Mdusunen, 2013). Individuals with secure attachment are expected to have low chances of becoming addicted to sex since they regulate and limit their sexual activity more than those with insecure attachment (Zapf, Greiner & Carroll, 2008). Furthermore, individuals who are addicted to sex are looking for sexual activity without the need for emotional relationships and they are more likely to be characterized by avoidant or anxious attachment (Gentzler & Kerns, 2004).

Gay men are diverse with respect to the sexual behaviors they both desire and enact (Moskowitz & Roloff, 2010; Sanderson, 1994). Moreover, gay men differ from other groups in their sexual behavior. Research shows that, on average, gay men have more partners, engage in more risky sexual behavior, and are more likely to seek sexual sensation than other groups, such as heterosexual men, women and lesbians (Bailey, Gaulin, Agyei & Gladue, 1994; Ekstrand, Stall, Paul, Osmond & Coates, 1999; Thompson, Yager & Martin, 1993). But among homosexual men there is variability in the propensity to engage in compulsive unprotected sex. Meyer and Dean (1995) have reported that about 6% of their 149 young New York City gay men (aged 18–24 years) engaged in very high risk behavior, defined as unprotected receptive anal intercourse with multiple partners. It appears that very high risk takers are qualitatively different from other risk takers: they reported more mental health problems, including more drug use and higher levels of internalized homophobia and AIDS-related traumatic stress response. Furthermore, there are moderators of sexual behavior among gay men such as being in monogamous relationships. Also sexual health and sexual health behaviors for example sexually transmitted diseases (STDs) were most influential over the enactment of sexual behavior or desires (Moskowitz & Roloff, 2010).

Few studies investigated sexual compulsivity among heterosexual and homosexual men. Furthermore, to the best of our knowledge, the relationships between compulsive sexual behavior and attachment and sexual preference or orientation have not been investigated before. We have therefore investigated sexual compulsivity and attachment style among populations of heterosexual and homosexual men and women. We hypothesized that secure attachment would be associated with lower rates of sex compulsion. Secondly, that homosexual men and women would show higher levels of sexual compulsivity than heterosexual men and women. Thirdly, we hypothesized that attachment style might mediate between sexual orientation and sexual compulsion.

[interstellarflowers]

señorita | peter parker x reader | part one

señorita 

peter parker x reader

part one

a/n this is inspired by @loxbbg ‘s idea of basing a peter parker fic off of shawn mendes and camila cabello’s new song señorita which I also hadn't listened to yet haha so thank you for forcing me to listen, anyways this was just such stellar idea, i hope that this does it justice

t/w cursing

    Peter Parker knew right from wrong. He knew that keeping his identity private was for the best, that it would protect everyone he loved. He knew this yet, he couldn’t help himself…he just had to have you. 

    It was a hot rainy day in July, Peter and his suit were soaked with rain and sweat, each indecipherable from the other at this point. He was doing the rounds, swinging about the city until it began to rain too hard, he had to come down to the street. That was when he saw you. It felt like love, even though he knew it couldn’t have been, it was too soon, or at least it seemed like it. You crossed over to his side of the street and that was when you said your first words to him, 

    “Excuse me, Mr.Spiderman, I’m sorry to bother you, but you look like you could use an umbrella.” You held out your umbrella, sheltering him from the rain. 

     Your voice was smooth like summer and singsong like rain. He loved it. He could barely mutter out a ‘thank you’ before he took your umbrella from you and held it above the two of you. 

    The way you made him feel was something like magic, he knew he should run, he knew the dangers. He couldn’t bring himself to leave. 

    That was a year ago, and here he is sitting in your bedroom another summer night. You had a small air conditioner in your bedroom window, which, let’s face it was just doing its best. Spiderman sat on your bed clearly overheated, the spandex of his suit not exactly helping the situation. 

    “Why don’t you just take it off?” He looked over in your direction, 

    “Oh, you want me to take it off, do ya?” He jumped off your bed and cupped your face.

    Oh yeah, there was that too. You and Spiderman were…Well, you weren’t quite sure how to label it. Not quite friends with benefits, not quite friends…Who needs label anyways? 

    You pulled back from Spiderman slapping his hands away and scrunching your nose. 

    “Ew, get your sweaty hands away from me!” 

    “You know I can’t take it off…Telling me to get away from you. That’s so…mean (y/n), so cruel!” Spiderman collapses back on your bed dramatically with his hand over his heart, “The betrayal, the agony!” He sits back up, crossing his arms and giving you the stinkeye. 

    If someone had told you a year ago that Spiderman would be sitting on your bed giving you the stinkeye and throwing a fit the next year, you would write them off as insane. Yet, here he was, the great superhero, the protector of Queens, the civil war hero, the friendly neighborhood Spiderman…On your bed, pouting like a toddler. 

    “Fine, fine, calm down,” you playfully rolled your eyes and walked over to kiss his cheek, “Don’t be such a baby.” 

    “Hey!” Spiderman stood up towering above you, “It’s Spiderman!” 

    “Well, you’re sure acting like a Spiderbaby.” 

    Sure, Spiderman could be very isolating for Peter. Spiderman came with great responsibility and strict rules and regulations, yet, he just couldn’t leave you. He loved it when you would call his name from your window when you spotted him swinging across the buildings. He loved it when you touched him, and fuck, did he love the way your lips tasted, but above all, he loved the way you made him feel. 

    Was it love? It most certainly was. Would he ever do anything above it? He most certainly would not. It was too dangerous and besides-

    “I’m glad that we’re friends.’

    Owch, yeah, there it was. That word, “friends.” Of course, he was beyond grateful to be your friend, you were all he talked to Ned about, but he couldn’t ignore the feeling that this was it. That this was love. 

    “It’s getting kinda late Spidey,” you wrestled your way out of the embrace that Spiderman had had you locked in for the past hour one of the many activities that the two of you shared with your undefined relations, “You should get swinging on home.” 

   “What if I don’t want to?”

    “What if my parents come home soon and I can’t let them know that I’ve been hanging out with Spiderman behind their back?” 

    “Fine,” he sighs and makes his way over to the window, “Catch you later Señorita.” You giggle at him and raise an eyebrow,

    “Ah, so we’re a sweet talker now, is that it?” 

    “Well, I do take Spanish, one of the three romance languages-”

    “Get out of here.” 

    “Gone, I’m gone.” He blew you a kiss and you shook your head at him, catching it in the air before he swung off his suit mixing beautifully with the tequila sunset painting the sky.

    Truth be told, you harbored feelings for Spiderman. Anybody could probably see this, well anybody except for a certain hero. Your classmates would constantly gush over the bigger names…

    “Thor is so hot!” gushed a girl named Tiffany in Chemistry, 

    “Okay, basic. Have you seen Tony Stark?” another peer named Elijah argued,

    “Alright, alright, but Captain America!” Skyler, who was usually quiet, shouted from the back of the classroom

    Thor, Iron Man, Captain America, yeah they were all wildly successful and undoubtedly handsome, but Spiderman, he was the one for you. He was special. Witty and charming without being cocky, effortlessly adorable and awkward in the best way possible, he redefined hero and you adored it. Not to mention, he was actually not over the age of twenty. He was your age, and he was the absolute best thing to ever happen to you. He really was your favorite hero, but most importantly he was your favorite person. Were you in love? Head over heels. Would he ever know? No. You had no time for any real relationship anyway, and besides, there was-

    “You’re the best friend ever!” 

    There was that.  He was, of course, the best friend you could ever ask for, but it hurt simultaneously, especially that he felt the need to repeat it each time you saw each other. You swear this boy is going to be the death of you-

    “Hey (y/n)!” 

    Besides, you knew Spiderman had his duties, he had rules, he had limitations, he had to protect. If you were going to be in a relationship you wanted it to be realistic at the very least, still, there was no harm in merely thinking about being with Spiderman, right? 

    “Hi, Peter!” Ah yes, Peter Parker, or as he first introduced himself to you, Parker Pete. What a nerd, you loved it. 

    “Spanish test?”

    “94.” 

    “98!” Peter slapped your arm lightly, “In your face.” 

    “Mrs.Profe is out to get me, I swear.” 

    “Sure, she is. You owe me a coffee.” Peter teased reminding you of the bet on this test that you guys had set in place,

    You groan, “Fine, let’s go-”

    “No, no, no,” Peter grabbed your hand and then quickly let go, haha, dork, “Good coffee, not that cafeteria shit.” 

    “Where else is there to get coffee in school?” You whined,

    “Maybe we should,” Peter hesitated for a moment, “Get some somewhere else, uh, after school?” You stopped dead in your tracks. Was he asking you on a date?

    “Uh, sure.” You decided not to question it, why label it, it was just coffee anyways.

    Peter knew that this was bad. Peter knew what he did with you as Spiderman, Peter knew that he shouldn’t be doing this. Asking you out, as him, as Peter Parker? Fooling around with you as Spiderman? He knew that he should probably stop, that he could end it all, that he should end it all….but he couldn’t. 

    “After school?” you asked to confirm the plans, pulling Peter out of his inner conflict, 

    “After school,” Peter knew he shouldn’t, he knew it was bad, he knew he should stop, but he- “See you then, Señorita.” 

    You froze. You felt like every part of your body died at once, came back to life, and then died again. You could not believe what you were hearing.

    “Spanish?” you managed to squeak out, 

    “Uh,” Peter suddenly faltered any confidence that he previously mustered melted away completely. It was at this exact moment that Peter had realized…He fucked up. “Spanish, it’s a, we take Spanish.” 

    “Yup,” you speak slowly and awkwardly testing the waters of your new theory as to who the web-slinger you so frequently have rendezvous with maybe, “It’s a, it’s a romance language.” 

    “One of three,” Peter awkwardly laughed it off, “Why’re you so tense?” 

    “Oh, uh, no reason.” You also mustered a strained laugh

    “I’m only teasing you since, y’ know, I’m the superior Spanish student and it shows.” 

    “Shut your mouth, you take that back right now Parker Pete.” 

    Perhaps that was it. It wasn’t like it was a specific word, it was a commonly used word, right? 

    You both took Spanish after all, sure, Spiderman took Spanish too, but lots of kids take Spanish in high school. Senorita was, in fact, one of the first words taught in high school Spanish curriculum.

    You were overthinking this entirely. You told yourself that you would stop thinking about it. You told yourself that Spiderman was a mystery, but he was your mystery and that should be good enough. 

    You told yourself that you shouldn’t, you told yourself that it was wrong, you told yourself that it was a secret that you should leave between Spiderman and himself…Alas, sometimes words are just words. 

a/n surprise this is a two-parter, part two drops soon ;) hope you enjoyed!

tag list  for all peter parker fics

@Heartbeats-wildly

@loxbbg

comment/drop something in the ask box if you’d like to be added to any of my tag lists! thank you so much again for reading it really means a lot to see all of the positive feedback it helps me get through bad stuff, thank you so much! :)

[franklyshipping]

An Unorthodox First Date ~ A Markiplier and Crankgameplays Ego Fanfic

This is from a snazzy prompt from the AWESOMELY snazzy @amazingmsme AND I CANNOT WAIT TO WRITE THIS CUTE TICKLY ROMANCEY THINGY WOOO LET'S DO IT!

Blankgameplays couldn't deny that he was nervous, but he was also filled with excitement. Bim Trimmer also couldn't deny that he was nervous....in addition to being incredibly excited. Bim Trimmer had mustered up the confidence to invite Blank to be a guest on ''Hire My Ass'' wherein Blank would be pretending to be going for Bim's assistant position and would have to answer silly trivia questions, all in the name of simple good fun. You may be thinking of course, why would Bim have to muster up confidence simply to ask Blank to be on the show? Now....that is where it gets rather sweet. Bim had rather strong feelings for the strong, silent, edgy young ego....but little did he know that Blank harboured the same feelings for him in return.

This was going to be wonderful.

Blank had accepted when Bim had asked him, but had had to refrain from jumping for joy, he wanted to play it cool with Bim....he wanted him to think he was cool and enticing. Bim was so cute and charismatic and confident....and Blank just adored him, he was so bright and gorgeous in so many ways, and being able to spend more time with him was something that Blank was never going to pass up. So here he was, being sat in his official contestant seat in Bim's studio by one of the production team...and as his gaze went across the set, there he saw the charismatic man himself....staring right back at him.

Bim's breath caught in his throat when he saw Blank's eyes on him....those beautifully unique, sharp eyes that made Bim feel like Blank was seeing right into his soul. He nibbled his lip nervously as a technician touched up the blush on his cheeks in preparation for the cameras and studio audience; Bim was never usually nervous for a recording....but this was special, he had someone in his midst who he actually wanted to impress and make happy. Bim couldn't wait to be bold, to be playful....and to be a little flirty too. Bim sent Blank a soft, reassuring smile though, just as a subtle sign to tell him that he could back out if he wanted to; the last thing Bim wanted was to bring Blank into an uncomfortable situation.

Blank though, of course smiled back. He trusted Bim, and he was excited to see what was going to be in store. With that, they both took a giddy breath each before Bim went to his mark in front of one of the cameras on stage, and cleared his throat whilst fiddling with his shirt cuffs; seeing Bim in his tight suit, especially from behind, made Blank feel....a few things. He fought a smile though and drew his gaze away from Bim's ah, behind, as the curtains were opened to reveal the studio audience....and Bim began the introductions.

'Ladies, gentlemen, gentlefolk! Welcome to another episode of Hiiiiire Myyyy AAAAAASS!!'

Bim raised his arms with a wide grin as the crowd cheered, and he backed up on the stage until he was standing adjacent to Blank, who he now gestured to as he continued.

'IIII'm Bim Trimmer as you all know, but tonight my guest is fresh on the screen people, iiiiit's Blankgameplays!'

Blank smiled sheepishly as he gave a little wave to the audience, and he felt a warmth inside him when he saw people smiling and waving so kindly at him....I suppose Blank had always associated this sort of loud, glaring scenario as something overwhelming, but now he was here it didn't feel like that. Seeing the crew smiling at him from behind the cameras along with how kind the audience were....made Blank feel so much more comfortable.

'Heya.'

Blank spoke softly, smiling a side-smile as he then mustered up the courage to look at Bim.....oh jeez he was handsome. I mean, he was handsome constantly, but seeing him on his own stage, excited, enthusiastic, and doing what he loved, just seemed to make him more beautiful. Bim smiled, his heart was pounding so fast, but he kept his cool.

'So my dear guest, how are you today?'

Blank smiled more....but he didn't want to reply so simply. He'd chickened out so many times when it came to flirting with the guy he had feelings for, and he was NOT going to chicken out this time. He looked up to Bim as he replied in a soft, purred tone.

'I'm good thanks. I would ask how you're doing but ah....you look pretty damn good to me.'

Blank made a point of looking Bim up and down, and giggled a little when he heard a few whoops from the audience. Bim's jaw nearly dropped, and he thanked the lord that all the stage make-up was covering his real developing blush.....Blank had just flirted with him....this was the best day of his life. Of course though, Bim defined professionalism....and besides, it would be rude not to reciprocate.

'Mmm, I bet you say that to the countless handsome men begging for your attention.'

'Are you counting yourself among them Mr Trimmer? Only, I don't see you on your knees.'

Numerous hushed, whispered 'oohs' echoed out from the crowd as they eagerly observed the flirtatious quips between Blank and Bim....this was definitely going to be an episode viewers weren't going to forget in a hurry. Bim and Blank did have to swiftly get back to business, since there was a show to run after all. After painstakingly refraining from engaging Blank in a verbal war, Bim straightened up, and let the show begin.

'As much as I love this game of ours, there is a bigger one that must be played. Apparently you want to be my esteemed assistant, but of course, I don't accept just anybody....so you're going to answer some questions for me. Get them right and you win....get them wrong however and ah.....well, you'll see....'

Bim winked at Blank slyly, which gave Blank chills as he tried to wonder what Bim had planned. Soon though, Blank had to refocus....maybe, just maybe, if he got everything right he could avoid whatever Bim's cryptic punishment was. Maybe.

'Blank....are you ready to play?'

Blank nibbled his bottom lip, then looked at Bim from beneath the hood of his black hoodie, a confident grin in place as he replied.

'Bring it.'

The audience cheered, excited to see how sassy and confident Blank was, his kind of attitude was what they craved. Bim was equally as excited, and he had to hide how giddy he was at seeing Blank coming out of his shell like this, it was gorgeous; Bim wasted no more time, and began. He grinned and snapped his fingers, making a large screen mounted on the wall light up with life and display text as Bim spoke it.

'Very well. Your first question is this: The ''Cairina moschata'' is the scientific name for what bird? A) The Sebastopol Goose, B) The Muscovy Duck, or C) The Cattle Egret?'

....Blank was so thankful that it was multiple choice, because now Blank realised that these questions were going to be practically impossible to answer! If Blank had just read that query on the screen then he couldn't have even known how to BEGIN pronouncing the phrase in italics! He took a breath and focused though, he wasn't going to let himself be rattled. He flicked his eyes over the options as he fiddled with his sleeves....well, the italics phrase had complicated words, and ''Sebastopol'' sounded pretty complicated too....so that was the logic that Blank ran with.

'Okay.....okay my answer is A) The Sebastopol Goose.'

The room was so quiet that you could have easily heard a pin drop. Bim was quiet, no doubt increasing the tension in the wake of Blank's answer as he paced around his attractive contestant. Their eyes met...and Bim smirked, inhaling in a hiss.

'Ohhhh I'm so sorry.....but I'm afraid that is incorrect.'

Before Blank could react, he felt metal cuffs clamp around his wrists at the arms of the chair, as well as at his ankles at the chair legs. He was trapped, immobilised....vulnerable. Blank gulped and gasped, tugging fruitlessly as he heard the audience gasp excitedly....they and he were thinking about Bim's earlier alluding to punishment for incorrect answers. Bim chuckled, smiling down at Blank as he purred.

'The answer we were looking for was actually B) The Muscovy Duck. Now, I know you must feel disheartened at getting something wrong so early on....but don't worry....I have just the thing to motivate you to get the next questions right....probably.'

Blank shivered.....seeing Bim so gleeful with glinting eyes really made his cheeks heat up....Blank couldn't help but feel that Bim was particularly attractive when he behaved like that. Before Blank could ask what exactly this motivation was to be though, all became clear. Two metal appendages unfolded from the back of Blank's chair, both wielding soft, fluffy feathers....which now danced at the sides of Blank's neck. Motivation indeed.

'W-Wohoah w-w-wahait wh-whahat the fuhuhuck?!'

Blank squeaked and descended into stammery giggles, twitching and trying to scrunch his neck as he heard the audience gasp and coo in delight at his predicament. That wasn't all Blank heard though. Bim was chuckling with cheeky glee at it all. Bim had known Blank was ticklish thanks to a few reliable sources, and had been dying to see how truly sensitive he was....Blank was already cute beyond measure in his eyes, but seeing him like this just put him in a whole new league of cuteness!

'Ah ah! Language! We ah, don't have the funds to bleep out naughty language and ah....I wouldn't want to gag you.'

Blank's cheeks got hotter as he spluttered with embarrassment, but he was the sort of person who fought back harder when he was embarrassed. As he struggled in his bonds, he glared up at the attractive asshole and retorted.

'Fihihight mehe Trihihimmer!'

Bim let out a dramatic gasp, putting his hand on his chest as he turned to the audience.

'Why how RUDE!'

The audience laughed at Bim's dramatics as Blank kept giggling his heart out, feeling so damn flustered. He couldn't believe Bim was doing this to him, making him lose his composure and blush so much, it was so mean....and yet, Blank didn't completely dislike it. Either way though, Blank figured that being rude wouldn't exactly help him in this situation.

'W-Wahahait Ihi-....I-I dihihidn't mehehean ihit!'

Blank tried to resist tossing his head so he could look up at Bim with big apologetic eyes, making Bim hum softly in thought....but Bim couldn't resist that sweet, cute pleading expression. Darn his loved up heart.

'Mmmm....well, given that you're under duress, I think I can believe that.'

Bim reasoned audibly, before snapping his fingers which spurred the feathery tools to fold away like they were never even there. Blank giggled residually, filled with after-chills from the feather tickling; his eyes flicked upwards to Bim, despite his bashfulness, as he whispered.

'Th-thahank yohou....'

Bim Trimmer's breath caught in his throat....wow he was cute....Bim do not melt I repeat do NOT MELT.

'You're more than welcome....ready to carry on?'

Phew. Blank nibbled his bottom lip, thankful that he'd managed to recover from that onslaught....but flustered at the fact that he was still restrained; he knew that there was more to come....which made him more excited to continue than ever.

'Y-Yeheah....I don't give up easy.'

Blank grinned up at Bim, who laughed and turned to the audience with a charismatic smile.

'Well THAT is what we like to hear!'

The audience cheered once more, before Bank straightened up in his chair in the wake of the second question popping up on the screen.

'Your second question is this: ''Testabantur Inflictam'' is the Latin translation for what word? Is it A) Instantaneous, B) Inspection, or C) Infatuation?'

Blank's mind whirred at this....okay, he didn't know Latin, but maybe he could try and figure it out? I mean....inflictam sounded kinda like inflict, agh but then there was fricking testabantur....wait....test-abantur. Inflict....test....I mean, to inflict a test could be seen as an inspection, right? Blank broke out into a smile, thinking he'd figured it out.

'Uhh....okay uhm....I'm gonna go for B) Inspection.'

Silence reigned in the studio once more for that sweet dramatic effect, with only the subtlest whispers emanating from the audience. Blank looked to Bim excitedly, thinking he might have gotten his first win....but his face fell when he saw Bim smirking deviously.

'I'm so very sorry, but that's not the answer we were looking for. The correct answer was actually C) Infatuation. It seems like your mind is not yet motivated enough....but I think we can fix that.'

Bim purred, winking playfully to the main camera. Honestly, if Blank didn't know any better he would have thought that Bim actually WANTED Blank to get all of the answers wrong! Meanwhile, metal appendages unfolded from Blank's chair once more, but this time from the arms of the chair....and this time bearing two very soft, supple blusher make-up brushes rather than feathers. Blank's eyes darted between the two tools as they got closer to his torso, and he hurried into stutters.

'C-C'mon c-c-can't we talk about th-this?'

Blank looked up at Bim, who had sauntered over and casually leant against Blank's chair, grinning as the brushes slip under Blank's t-shirt.

'I think it's a little late for that.'

Bim giggled when Blank squealed and threw his head back as the fluffy brushes fluttered up and own his lean sides at an impossible speed.

'Nohohoho plehehease notmytorsodammit c'moHOHON!'

Blanks giggles got louder and louder, since it seemed that the very dips of his sides (where the brushes were now swirling about in) were particularly sensitive. Blank was wriggling from side to side like he was attempting a salsa whilst his cheeks became a wonderful dark pink.

'Ahahaaawww, isn't he cute everybody?'

Bim cooed, flashing a smirk to the audience who, to Blank's embarrassment, cheered and cooed to Blank too. I mean, one person is somewhat manageable, but a whole audience full of people wanting to tease you? That was just unfair!

'SHUHUHUSH IHIT!'

Blank wailed amidst his hiccup filled giggles, jiggling desperately as the fluffy brushes fluttered over his tummy nice and softly. At Blank's wail though, Bim gasped! He and the audience were simply admiring his cuteness, and yet Blank had the audacity to order them to shush it?! The nerve!

'Why how rude AGAIN! I have half a mind to just let you be tickled for the rest of the show!'

Blank hiccupped even more as he replied particularly quickly, and particularly cutely, to that particular threat. Oh I wonder why.

'BUHUT Y-YOHOUR OTHEHER HAHALF IS MEHERCIFUL AHAND LOHOVELY!'

....Bim huffed. Dammit, that retort was too good and too adorable to dismiss! Also, getting a compliment like that from Blank made Bim feel very warm and fuzzy inside; yes people he is hella smitten. He snapped his fingers, thus making the tools retract away, before waggling his finger at Blank with a playful, purse-lipped smile.

'You're lucky that I like you!'

Blank caught his breath, and felt a little butterfly jitter inside him tummy as he looked up at Bim.

'Ihi like yohou too.'

Blank was soft spoken and softly smiling, and Bim felt his cheeks heat up even more under his make-up; for a moment he was frozen, but then remembered that they had many, many eyes upon them.

'Oh, y-you're too sweet! A-Ahem uh, Question Three!'

Bim hurriedly looked to the screen, and Blank giggled to himself; though Bim had make-up on, he could guess what was hiding at his cheeks....and that made Blank feel pretty good.

'What makes the gestation of seahorses different from all other animals? A) The males carry the offspring, B) Seahorses spin in a continuous counter-clockwise motion whilst gestating, or C) Seahorses remain entirely stationary during the complete gestation period?'

....now however, Blank's eyes were wide with panic. First off, what the frick was gestation?! This most certainly wasn't good, I mean, the previous two questions hadn't been good either, but this one was ESPECIALLY not good. Blank could only stutter as he re-read the question again, and again, and again.

'U-Uhh....uh it....uhm....'

Bim smirked at his stuttering, goodness he was cute.

'Time's tickling Blank-oh sorry, I meant ticking!'

Bim chuckled amidst his ''accidental'' error of wording, which got giggles from the audience and a flustered whine from Blank.

'I need an answeeeer!'

Bim continued, raising his eyebrows at Blank....and Blank figured that if he didn't give an answer, any answer, then the repercussions would not be good. So he hurriedly just blurted out his reply.

'B! I-I choose B!'

His frantic reply spurred the audience to ''ooh'', wondering whether luck would be on Blank's side for this question. Alas, Blank already knew he was wrong before anything was even said....Bim's feral grin told him all.

'....oh Blank....this really isn't your day is it?'

One snap of the fingers later, and the audience gasped as Blank squeaked....because somehow, his legs were moving. It was quite the clever contraption in the chair, you see Blank's ankles weren't actually tied to the chair legs, they were actually tied to extensions of the chair that just LOOKED like the chair legs. Now though, those extensions were straightening out so that Blank's feet were facing the audience. As soon as the manoeuvre was completed, Blank gulped when Bim sauntered over to his feet with gleaming eyes.

'May I?'

Bim didn't wait for an answer before he started taking off Blank's shoes and socks; as you can imagine, the young emo was rather spluttery and embarrassed.

'N-No you may not!'

Blank's voice was as high pitched as it had ever been, but alas it came too late, for now he was completely barefoot. Blank's and Bim's eyes met, the flustered and the mischievous, and the latter purred with a chuckle.

'Oops....too late.'

Bim raised his hand, winked, and snapped those fingers. Two metal appendages unfolded once more....and bore the finest, softest looking paintbrushes that you have ever seen. Blank's pale feet scrunched up tight in anticipation....but as soon as those soft fibres flicked and stroked up and down his soles, Blank just went ballistic.

'EEEHEHEHEE NOHOHO NOTTHEFEETNOTTHEFEETNOTTHEFEET!!!'

Bim's eyes lit up....had he actually found Blank's death tickle spot?! His lips were parted in adoring awe as he watched Blank writhe and laugh wildly...he was so gorgeous.

'Not the feet huh? Are they your big bad tickle spot?'

Bim teased in a breathless, teasing tone, making Blank nod frantically as the evil brushes flicked into his tight wrinkles with ease. Blank already had mirthful tears in his eyes as he cried out.

'YEHEHEHES AHAHA MAHAKE IHIT STAHAHAP!!!'

Blank thrashed in his restraints as he laughed and laughed, his face burning from seeing Bim's awe and glee, as well as from hearing the audience calling out babyish teases to him. To make it all worse, Bim ended up being inspired by the audience too.

'Awww poor baby has tickwish footsies!'

Bim cheekily skittered a few of his fingertips over the tops of Blank's feet as the brushes tried to worm their way under Blank's toes; lemme tell you though Blank was NOT going to have that. He had his feet scrunched as tight as they could be, and Blank's face was scrunched as he used every ounce of will to keep those brushes out.

'NOHOHO TEHEHEASE BIHIHIM! PLEHEHEHEASE!!!'

Blank writhed and tugged, and if the chair hadn't been affixed to the stage then Blank would have absolutely made it topple over by now. Blank was letting out desperate whines through his laughter, which spurred Bim to smile down at him fondly as his finger snap echoed through the studio.

'Mmm, I suppose I can't let you break just yet, we do have one question left to go after all.'

Blank gasped and softly sniffled as the tools retracted, folding away elegantly as the young man went a little limp in the chair. Blank blinked a few times....if he hadn't been unkempt before this all stared then he certainly was now. His hood was down, revealing his jet black mop of hair that had started to stick to his forehead in a way that made Bim certainly feel particularly attracted to the young man; in this state he looked even more ruggedly handsome than usual. Blank meanwhile was feeling a) sweaty, and b) flustered, which resulted in this very whiney, half-hearted retort.

'Bihite meheee....'

Bim giggled, then slipped closer to Blank so he could whisper and wink.

'Perhaps we should wait until the cameras are off.'

Blank giggled as a happy shiver went down his spine, and he even winked back. They'd both been skating around one another with their flirting and so-forth, but now they were skating together, so to speak. Blank jerked his head to get the hair out of his face as Bim excitedly grinned and turned back to the audience, his arms wide open as he spoke like the wonderful showman he was.

'Now, it's time for our final question!'

The audience clamoured with applause as the climax of the show approached....and the final question came on-screen.

'Which weather condition is well known to NOT be ideal when making caramel based products like spun sugar? A) Freezing Weather, B) Dry Weather, or C) Humid Weather?'

Bim kept his eyes on Blank as he read the question....and couldn't help but giggle when Blank let out the lightest, and yet the most dejected, whine in the world.

'Aww what's wrong?'

At Bim's query, Blank looked up at him with his bottom lip pointedly sticking out; which did make the audience aww at him because he was an absolute cutie pie.

'All these questions have been so mean!'

Blank huffed softly, to which Bim merely shrugged innocently.

'I don't choose them Blanky, they're generated at random by our quiz system!'

That made Blank narrow his eyes up at Bim. He was narrowing his eyes in a way that said that he knew that was an absolute fib and that SOMEHOW Bim had orchestrated this to make him lose and get tickled into oblivion! He was smart not to say it aloud though, so he merely let out a little grumble before looking back to the question. This turned out to be less of a quiz game and more a guessing game.

'....I choose B) Dry Weather....'

....at this point Bim honestly just wanted to fib and say that Blank was right with how much he was pouting and, still, panting....but Bim's evil side was taking precedence. He simply loved tickling Blank too much. Bim inhaled with a light hiss as he turned to the audience, who had started to giggle in excited anticipation.

'Dear....oh....dear....'

Bim snapped his fingers.

'I had such high hopes for you Blank, but fate decided it was not to be. Now you must face the consequences.'

As soon as Blank had known he was wrong, he'd started to wonder where he'd be targeted next, his armpits maybe? His knees? It was a no to both those theories though....when all the appendages from the previous rounds with all their dastardly tools reappeared....and attacked all at once. Feathers at his neck, blusher brushes at his sides and tummy, and fine paintbrushes at his feet. They were all in action and all driving Blank to hysteria.

'AHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHA BIHIHAHAHAHAAA!!!'

Blank legitimately thought he was going to go insane, he couldn't believe all his tickle spots were being attacked at once! He was scrunching his shoulders and feet desperately from the flicking feathers and brushes, whilst trying to somehow curl up his torso to hide his tummy from more evil, fluffy fibres. None of it helped though. Plus, hearing the crowd cheer so gleefully at his demise just made it all so much more torturous.

'I regret to say that with your results, you won't be receiving the position as my assistant. I'm so sorry Blank, I was really rooting for you y'know?'

....Blank oh so badly wanted to yell 'Oh really? Then why do you look so fricking HAPPY?!' but ah, coherency wasn't really on the cards for Blank right now. All he could do was endure the tickling and the teasiness of Bim's nonchalant words, all while wishing that he could curl up into a ball and hide.

'PLEHEHEHEHAHAHA NOHOHO MOHOHOOOORE!!!'

Bim hummed at Blank's wild squeals for mercy, grinning as he saw paintbrushes swirling over the pads of his toes, evidence of a blusher brush dusting his tummy, and feathers fluttering behind the crooks of his ears. He took a moment to admire his mirth and ticklishness, before grinning and swivelling to face the audience, before hollering.

'What do you lovely people think? Holler if you think our sweet guest deserves some mercy!'

For a second, Blank was expecting silence to ring out....but he vastly underestimated how much Bim's audience adored him. No sooner had Bim's words left his mouth, Blank almost felt deafened by the sudden increase in volume of cheers, whoops, clapping, and general clamouring from the audience. The people obviously loved seeing him being tickled, but they were very lovely people and could tell when someone deserved mercy.

'AHAHAHAHA THAHAHAHANK YOHOHOU!!!'

Blank cried to the audience, which made Bim smile fondly before he snapped his fingers for the final time. All the tickle tools retracted, and the restraints binding Blank's wrists and ankles snapped open, thus leaving him as a properly free man. As Blank giggled and cutely curled up in his chair, Bim skipped to the centre of the stage and clapped his hands together with a grin.

'Well aren't you lot a sweet little bunch! You've all been so great tonight, give yourselves a big hand!'

Blank wiped his eyes a little as he smiled at the audience, he never thought that a vibe of screaming people could be so pleasant. Then though, he developed a bashful smile as Bim gestured to him dramatically .

'Aaaaand let's give a big hand to our sassy, sweet guest....BLAAAANKGAMEPLAAAAYS!'

Blank bowed his head a little with a smile at they cheered once more, giving the crowd a little wave....honestly, he just couldn't stop smiling, he was so happy from all of this. Then, Bim turned to fully face the audience once more, spreading his arms so wide that it looked like he wanted to hug the whole audience at once.

'And now finally, this has been Hire My Ass, with me your host, Bim Trimmer! Goodnight everybody!'

After a few moments of Bim waving to the audience and blowing them kisses as the curtain closed, and after a countdown from the production manager, the cameras were off and it was all done. As soon as that happened, Blank smiled to see Bim hurrying up to him. Bim was still himself of course, he never faked his love for showbiz or any of that, but without the eyes of all those other people he himself was a tad more bashful.

'H-Hey a-are you okay? I'm s-sorry I didn't tell you a-about the tickling beforehand, I-I-I didn't go too far did I?'

Bim had just put his spectacles back on and was adjusting them nervously as he looked over Blank's curled up form; Blank thought he was going to melt when he saw Bim's serious, genuine concern for him. Blank decided to stand up from the chair and un-crease his hoodie and jeans, giving Bim a soft grin as he replied. 

'I like to think I'm made of tough stuff Trimmer....as for you though...'

Blank had started off with a soft purr, to let Bim know he was really okay....before descending into a growl and grabbing the lapels of Bim's jacket and pulling him close. In public, Bim was confident and Blank was meek....but in private it was a whole different story.

'Do you have ANY idea how much you affected me? How flustered I felt from every smile and stare you sent my way?'

Bim squeaked at the sudden man-handling, but couldn't help but smile at hearing how much he'd affected Blank....he had so hoped that his flirts and such-like had worked and made Blank feel nice things. Bim's eyes flicked up to meet Blank's as he whispered.

'....well....i-it w-was somewhat my i-intention....'

Blank blinked, taking in a quiet gasp of air as he processed what he was hearing. Bim...meant to flirt with him. Just like Blank had hoped to flirt with him too.

'....fuck subtlety.'

Don't get him wrong, Blank had enjoyed the flirting and the entire playful setting....but ah, he certainly was NOT going to wait around for the guy he liked to just drop into his lap, he was going to claim him....and Bim seemed pretty happy with that notion. So, Blank kissed Bim, and Bim kissed Blank back, whilst both subconsciously agreeing that their next date would have less Latin, gestation, and spun sugar....but maybe just a little infatuation.

HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS FIC WOOOO LEMME KNOW IF YA DO WOO LUV YOUS XX

[castellankurze]

freestyle rewriting the heresy yet again

because stuff occurred to me last night after that post about the traitor primarchs

if you wanna do the greek tragedy right every traitor primarch should have a primary flaw and a lesson that they fail to learn which overcomes them in the end

Fulgrim is obsession, or ‘perfection is the enemy of the good.’  Fulgrim has been good at everything his whole life. he turned Chemos from a dying shitpit into a vibrant and peaceful world, and when called up to become a warrior and commander he became a damn good one.  He even built up his legion from almost nothing after disaster nearly wiped them out.  But now he’s actually competing with people on his level and it gets to him.  He trains himself almost religiously, struggling to cut away the imperfections.  He expects his legion to always improve; uniformly, to Fulgrim there’s nothing more disgraceful than failing to better yourself, no matter the circumstances, no matter how unreasonable it may be.  It’s what leads him to letting Fabius tinker recklessly with the legion geneseed.  To steal a line from the stewniverse “if I’m not perfect then who am I?”

His friendship with Ferrus is something that should be cast as the anchor on Fulgrim’s flights of fancy.  Ferrus is prosaic and hardworking and responsible, gruff and bluff and earthy; he acts as a balance to Fulgrim’s mounting fanatical belief that he must be the best at everything at all times.  Ferrus’ death can thus be cast as the loss of reason amidst the insanity of the heresy, and it’s what snaps Fulgrim’s last ties to sanity leaving him to plunge himself and his legion wholesale into the service of Slaanesh.

Perturabo is cold logic, or ‘humans aren’t rational.’  Perturabo believes that the ideal being is a Renaissance Man, the great thinker, expert in all fields, unburdened by such petty things as ‘emotion’ or ‘bonds’ or ‘human interest’.  Perturabo believes mankind is best served by shutting up, sitting down, and working.  Human error is a failstate and not to be countenanced.  But people don’t function like that, fundamentally can’t function as if they’re datasheets on a page, and Perturabo gets irked when they don’t.  Because even Perturabo doesn’t function like that, not really - he’s like one of those rationalists who claim they can operate perfectly logically, then throw a screaming tantrum when faced with a conclusion they don’t like.

Perturabo alienates everyone around him - his brethren, his legion, even his homeworld.  To his eyes, they all fail him by not meeting his standards; they’re all too human, too soft.  Perturabo’s insistence that he is incapable of failure is what tragically leaves him wide open to manipulation by Horus, who drives him and the Iron Warriors further and further into their self-dug bitterness and isolationism until Olympia itself revolts and the last nail is pounded into the coffin.

Konrad Curze is vengeance, or ‘fear exists to be conquered.’  Curze took control of Nostromo through savage terrorism, cowing the populace and the gangs and the murderers who preyed on people through shocking acts of murder and barbarism.  He’s so good at it, though, that he never acknowledges the critical flaw - when he leaves Nostromo, he takes away the object of people’s fear, and he never setup a system to govern them without the threat of retaliation.  The Night Lords become staffed with psychopaths and murderers, their unity as a legion slowly fraying.  Curze himself sees torturous visions and nightmares, but it’s all without context, and he doesn’t particularly like wearing the device the Emperor made for him to curb the worst of it because he feels like it makes thinking difficult, so he just does without, becoming more erratic and unpredictable.  In the end he lets himself be done in, with the line ‘death is nothing compared to vindication’ which can arguably taken as a recognition that he had become the kind of monster he once hunted.

Angron is, of course, rage or, to quote tumblr, ‘the hate you feel will warm your heart but leave you cold in the grave’.  Of all the primarchs he’s the one with whom you can most do the cycle of violence thematic.  He’s taken as a slave as a gladiator, leads a revolt, he’s ‘rescued’ by the Emperor on the brink of a crushing defeat, and becomes a rampaging one-man slaughterhouse loosed upon the galaxy.  Angron’s response to his mistreatment is two-pronged: a total rejection of any authority deemed untrustworthy, fueled by his upbringing and the Emperor’s high-handedness, and a colossal hate-on for anything and everything.  Angron wallows in his hate, because for him hate and violence are easy.  The result is that he’s something of a foil for Perturabo - Angron doesn’t think, because he doesn’t like to think.  The World Eaters become a riot of bloodthirsty killers, the librarians and chaplaincy first sidelined and then, at least in the case of the former, eliminated, because they’re not savage enough.

If the plot device of the battle cybernetics (’Butcher’s Nails’ in the BL series) is kept, it’s primary use is as a plot device to show the cycle of abuse - Angron has it forced on him as a child, he forces it upon his legion in turn.  I’ve never been a great fan of the Nails as a plot device (especially in the BL series; it makes things too easy) because it’s not like they’re necessary to push someone into a Khornate rage, but they can work as a tipping point to help push the legion over the edge, especially back by Horus’ manipulations.

Mortarion is resentment, specifically, ‘bitterness is a poison.’  Like how Angron wallows in rage and Curze wallows in the fear he causes, Mortarion wallows in bitter hatred.  He hates the aliens who ruled Barbarus, especially the one who raised him, he hates the poisons of his homeworld itself, he hates the Emperor, and most of all he hates himself.  Mortarion falls into the trap of constantly comparing what we might have been to what we are - if he’d been found by humans. if he’d landed on a different world.  if he’d taken the Emperor up on his offer of aid.  if he didn’t need to wear a damn rebreather.  Nevertheless he surrounds himself with the trappings of his home, poisons and toxins and rad-weapons because they’re his, dammit, and fuck you for trying to take them away from him.  Mortarion keeps slogging onwards with what he’s got because there’s nothing else to him.

Magnus the Red is haughtiness, or ‘ivory-tower intellectualism.’  When you’re willing to learn and Magnus is willing to teach, he’s a great guy.  When he’s willing to learn and you’re willing to teach, he’s a great guy.  But Magnus has been either student or teacher for most of his life, and he has trouble defining a relationship outside those bounds.  He’s that guy who’s an expert on anything he’s studied for five minutes, even though you know he never heard of it six minutes ago.  And if you’re better at him than something, well, it’s something he’s never studied.  Magnus can be exasperating, and, in considering the fate of his legion, dangerous.  The Thousand Sons have a very strong ‘for me and not for thee’ streak to him, delving deeply into study of the warp and sorcerous practices that scream Bad Idea and ignore any attempts to warn them off of it, because they know better.  They’re not going to fall into any traps.  Even the Council of Nikaea, what should be taken as a dire warning to shape up, does little more than throw Magnus into a extended snitfit about the Emperor’s unwillingness to see things his way.

Horus is, of course, ambition, and ‘pride goeth before a fall.’  When the Emperor retreats from the Crusade to, you know, run the Imperium, Horus takes over the campaign trail personally, spending long years heading up the Imperium’s conquest of the galaxy, and as the awards and adoration and adulation and accolades and other a-words pile up he starts getting it into his head that he ought to be the rightful ruler of the whole shebang.  While recovering from wounds on the planet Davin, he’s introduced to the powers of the warp through the warrior lodges there, and so strikes a fateful bargain to sway the greater power of the Imperium’s war machine to his side along with his brothers and topple the Emperor.  He becomes a creature unlike any seen before or since, a font of Chaos power such that even the four great powers seem more held than holders of his leash.  Drunk on power - both the political and very, very real kinds - it’s not until things fall apart aboard his flagship that Horus realizes how very, very badly he’s fouled up.

Lorgar is zealotry, or to be more accurate ‘you can’t externalize self-righteousness.’  Lorgar frames his mindset as a search for truth, but really what he wants is what everybody wants: to be on the right side.  Lorgar’s problem is that he fundamentally cannot internalize the idea that morality is what you do, or to quote Horus Rising ‘we must be mighty because we are right, not right because we are mighty.’  Lorgar grows up steeped in the old faith of Colchis, but when he starts having visions and the existing power structure rejects him, he overthrows it because he knows he’s right, the universe told him he’s right, and when the Emperor shows up he feels validated, and doesn’t even notice how Emps is a little put off by the displays of veneration.  When he goes on the Crusade he turns it into a literal religious crusade, stopping at every planet to fully convert it before moving on.

Eventually the Emperor shows up to kick him into gear, because the Word Bearers are the S L O W E S T legion by far and their ties to other legions are fraying and maybe put down some of the religious stuff.  Lorgar cannot reconcile this discrepancy between the image of the God-Emperor he believes he understood perfectly and the actual Emperor telling him to cool it and basically dissociates himself into next month.  Eventually this one dude named Kor Phaeron who Lorgar’s known since they were kids suggests maybe Lorgar should go back and look at the old faiths again, at which point Lorgar starts digging into a new, and to him, even bigger ‘truth’ than the Emperor.  Then a dude from the Sons of Horus arrives and shit goes buckwild.  But for all the work he’s done, Lorgar still can’t see himself as anything but a vessel for truth, effectively sheltering himself under the Horus and the Chaos gods instead of the Emperor, and when things go sideways on Terra he all but collapses because he can’t understand how shit’s gone south again.

Alpharius, finally, is the inferiority complex, or ‘don’t define yourself by your relationships to others.’  Alpharius is not only the last primarch, he’s the last primarch to be publicly discovered, so late in the Crusade that the Emperor’s already handed the reins over to Horus.  As a result, everyone else has an achievement list as long as their arm and people won’t stop fucking comparing Alpharius and the XX Legion against the others.  Alpharius is an A+ tactical commander, but this shit makes him mad as hell.  He names the XX the Alpha Legion to emphasize how badass they are and drills the shit out of them at the chapter, company, and even squad level until they know their shit backwards and forwards.

For Alpharius, there’s no question of whose side he’s on, because Horus is his big bro and he doesn’t care for the Emperor.  Ironically, despite his keen strategic mind, Alpharius is unable to recognize the bigger picture of how Horus and the other traitor legions are...maybe getting a little sketchy?  He just knows this is gonna be his chance to get back at the folks who shit-talked him and his boys.  Instead of joining the march on Terra, the Alpha Legion goes across the galaxy, harrying the Ultramarines, the Space Wolves, and the Dark Angels.  But unlike Alpharius, Guilliman can stay focused on the big picture, and though delayed it’s ultimately the word of the reinforcements coming in that causes Horus to throw down with the Emperor.  Of course the Alpha Legion goes on their merry way, until the fight at Eskrador where Alpharius finally gets to stick it to Bobby G - he dies, but he’s lured the Ultramarines into an untenable position and ultiamtely they’re the ones who have to retreat.  But afterwards, the blind spot comes back into play, and the Alpha legion ultimately fragments and goes sailing into the Eye of Terror and the other warpstorms along with the other traitor legions because nobody knows enough of the Plan anymore.

this post got longer than i meant it to be but  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ what can i say even though it’s been almost a decade now since i stopped seriously following 40k books i still have The Thoughts about the little plastic dudes

[weirdochick56]

Oblivious- Thomas Shelby Mini-Series Chapter Two

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Explicit language. A bit of depression and angst. 

Disclaimers: I don’t you or any Peaky Blinders characters/plots

Word Count: 3, 107 words

A/N: I just want to thank @tscamander for all the ideas they gave me on how to continue this story!

Reade Chapter One here!!

***

(gif’s not mine!)

You keep your distance from Tommy and the Shelby’s for the next few weeks. 

And by “keep your distance” I mean you avoided him at all costs.

Kept away from his house, didn’t go to the Garrison and certainly didn’t walk by the offices. 

After what he’d done to you, the way he treated you- like your feelings didn’t matter. Like you weren’t even worthy of his effort or precious time...you weren’t going back to him. 

He made you feel like a small spec of dirt. Tiny, forgettable. Insignificant.

It was horrible and not an emotion you would wish upon even your worst enemy.

Of course, it hurt you to be apart from him, maybe more physically than it should’ve.

You had a constant ache in your heart. Like a piece of you had been ripped from your very being. That piece was Thomas Shelby and with every day that went by, the ache only intensified into a sharp stabbing right into your chest. 

The pain was so bad that you were left gasping for air, gulping down as much oxygen as your lungs could take because the mere pang of hurt that resonated through you, sent your whole body into shock, spiraling into your deepest darkest depths. 

...and there was no one there to pull you out. No one to catch you.

You struggled to wake up every morning and go to work.

You couldn’t sleep or eat or do anything and had lost a significant amount of weight.

Your cheekbones and jaw were prominent in your face and your eyes had lost all glimmer of hope. Dead and hollow. 

Just like you. 

The last time you hadn’t seen Tommy for this long was when he was sent off to the war, and even then, you still wrote eachother letters to keep in touch.

And now that was all gone. He had made it clear he didn’t want you. And even if you had decided to stay it was done.

Your confession was done and he knew you were in love with him, there was no way you could take that back and not make it weird around eachother- much less go back to being the old Y/n. 

Sisterly, motherly, caring Y/n.

Many times you considered the idea of going back to the Shelby’s and ending your misery but halted yourself as soon as the thought struck. You wouldn’t humiliate yourself like that.

And as soon as you made that decision, you decided to push through.

And that’s when things really started moving. When you steeled yourself. And the time for yourself was helpful. To think and decide and...be.

Constantly stressing about the Shelby’s -not just Tommy- was tiring to no extent, more tiring for you than any of them probably even noticed. It was endless, the threats they faced, but you stood behind them every step of the way.

And now you needed to sort yourself out. Without Tommy or Ada or Polly or John or Arthur or even Finn.

For the longest time, your life revolved around them, but now that Tommy had rejected you, tore your heart right out of your chest for the hundredth and final time, ripped it to shreds then stomped on it, it was time to think and act on your own.

You were officially done with his bullshit.

And you needed to grow up. Move on.

Because no matter how much you denied it to yourself and how much you tried to convince yourself that he wasn’t, Thomas Shelby was the sole cause of all this pain. Because falling in love with him was both your dumbest and gravest mistake.

You decided maybe it was time to let Thomas Shelby go. 

It was time you ripped him from your heart.

And so you resolved to do just that over the months you were away from him and the family, focusing on your job at the book store harder than ever before.  

You lost yourself in it and tried to keep your mind occupied by reading stories. Of women, strong and unapologetically themselves. 

It got you thinking...would you ever be like those women? Unafraid of the dark and the truth. Strong-willed and independent and fierce? 

Thinking this and building resolve for yourself kept you occupied for the most part, mostly because you needed time to heal and build yourself up again, a new you. 

And yet, although you hated to admit it, your mind would still inevitably wander to Tommy from time to time.

And that kiss... 

The burning and edging desire that coursed through you during that kiss. You could still feel his lips moving against yours and when you thought about it, even briefly, your lips would tingle and then the feelings that coursed through your very being during that kiss rushed back to you just as vividly as if it were happening in that very instant. 

The feeling of his hair clutched tightly in between your fingertips. Of your legs wrapped around his waist, your backside settled on that kitchen counter. 

The cut his bite had left on your lip remained there for two weeks afterward and every time you looked in the mirror, you’d shiver in delight because you could close your eyes and right there behind your lids, you could replay the small film of that magical and all-consuming kiss over and over and over...until you were shuddering with pleasure.

You knew you shouldn’t. That you needed to forget him, but you...couldn’t help it that his lips and his hands and his scent and his nearness...did things to you. He was just so...beautiful. 

Even his flaws made him beautiful. 

It was infuriating as hell that even so far away for you, he still managed to affect you this much. To invade your thoughts like that.

But you were determined. 

You were going to forget Thomas Shelby even if it killed you. 

*

“Ada,” you sigh, pressing on your toes and carefully sliding a few books into the free slots. “You know I can’t go.” 

Ada had popped up in the bookstore today and to say you were shocked to see her here would be an understatement.

You were gobsmacked at her sudden appearance. You had made it clear to the Shelby’s to give you time and space. And up until now, you thought if you saw them in the near future you’d be prepared to face them. But that was before it actually happened and now you could feel the nervousness hit you like a truck.

Ada Shelby, your best friend- no scratch that. Your sister, who you had been avoiding for weeks, was here. 

She looked pretty much the same with her delicate lightly-freckled face and petite build paired with a pair of fiery blue eyes.

You couldn’t help but wonder if Tommy had changed or if he remained the same.

You thought you made it clear you wanted to stay away from the Shelby’s, not return to them. Seeing her made your chest squeeze painfully. 

Ada groans. “But why? Y/n you’ve been a part of this family for almost as long as I have. You have as much a right to attend this celebration as I do.” 

You sigh, slightly pressing your forehead against the shelf. 

“I can’t,” you whisper shakily after a few seconds of silence. 

Her face softens at the sudden drop of pitch in your voice. 

“You can’t hide forever Y/n.” 

You frown funnily and shrug at her. “Who says I’m hiding?” 

She responds with a ‘really?’ look and you bite your lip, sighing defeatedly. 

“I’m avoiding. There’s a difference.” 

She follows close behind as you make your way to the front of the book store, determined to evade going to this damned family dinner Tommy had put together. 

“Tom is worried about you,” she blurts. 

Your head snaps to hers and your brows raise to your hairline. 

“What?”

She can barely hold back a coy grin at your abruptly-peaked interest. 

“Oh yeah,” she confirms. “He keeps asking about you.”

Your heart skips a beat and despite yourself, your cheeks grow warm and your throat dry.

You frown. “To who?”

Her smile widens. “Oh...everybody. Anybody.” She shrugs. “But nobody can fucking answer him about your whereabouts if they haven’t seen you can they?” She looks you in the eye pointedly.

You groan softly and avoid her gaze, guilt-ridden.

“I’ve been busy,” you mumble sheepishly.

She scoffs incredulously. “Mhmm, I bet.” 

You roll your eyes. “Why is it so bloody hard for everyone to believe I actually have a life outside of the Shelbys?”

She exhales heavily, her gaze sympathetic. “We know you do Y/n. It’s just...you left so abruptly and we’re worried about you. I think we’ve given you your space can’t you just...come back?” She almost begs.

You sigh dejectedly and smile meekly at her, a dull ache returning to your heart.

“I’m happy Ada,” you almost whisper.

She flinches at your words and a pang of regret hits you in the chest.

She looks down thoughtfully before looking back up at you, offering a small smile that didn’t look content at all.

“I’m happy for you Y/n. I really am. I just...I want- need to know why you just left us all so suddenly. I know it has to do with Tommy but he won’t tell us anything. He keeps checking up on the family to see if any of them have seen you by chance but he refuses to come see you himself.”

You swallow thickly, fighting back tears. Her words sting more than you’re willing to admit.

“W-“ when your voice trembles too much, you clear your throat and shake your head as if to get rid of the hurt. “Well, he’s always been sort of a hypocrite hasn’t he?”

She laughs but pauses again for a beat then exhales softly, pinning you with her gaze. “He knows.”

“Knows what?”

She raises her delicate brows. “That you’re avoiding him.”

You shrug. “I don’t really give a flying fuck if I’m completely honest.” 

The truth is, you do give a fuck. And maybe more because hearing her say that and thinking about hurting Tommy’s feelings -despite your mental protests- makes your heart ache faintly. But letting her know that so she can tell him wouldn’t do you any good, would it? 

You continue speaking nonchalantly. “I’m not avoiding him as much as I am taking time to think. For myself,” you quickly add.

It was half the truth at least.

 She gives one final sigh and tugs her fur coat closer to her body. “Listen, you’ve loved Tommy for a very bloody long time. You’ve stuck with him for years, through his toughest patches. Don’t you think it’s a bit cowardly to leave now?”

You huff at her, rolling your eyes. “I’m not the one running from my feelings Ada. Thomas made it very bloody fucking clear that he didn’t want me. Just because I’ve finally decided to stop chasing after him doesn’t mean I’m a coward. It means I’m smart enough to know I’m not going to win this battle.”

Your words are meant to be said in a strong tone, but you can feel yourself faltering towards the end. Getting emotional.

It was the first time you’d said that out loud and although every single word was meant with full intent, somehow actually admitting it out loud to yourself made your heart crack only slightly. 

She smiles somewhat proudly up at you, her eyes shining mischievously. “You’re different.”

You tilt your head sideways, quirking a brow. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know... You just seem more...sure of yourself. Like you know where you stand.”

“Does that mean I didn’t before?”

Her smile twists into a smirk. “No, I think you’ve always known where you stand Y/f/n Y/l/n. It was us who failed to see it.”

You can’t help it when your lips quirk up into a smile at her words. 

You missed her. You missed the Shelbys. A lot. You especially missed- no. Don’t go there Y/n. You blink back tears and chastise yourself for growing so emotional so fast.

Finally, you blurt, “putting distance between you and me wasn’t easy. But necessary. I need you to know that.”

Ada smiles sadly and tugs you into a small hug. She breaks away and looks at you a bit pleadingly. “Just...come to dinner, please. Just for tonight.”

You contemplate her words deeply, chewing on your lip. 

Doing that would be very bad. Very, very bad. You had worked so hard to avoid Thomas and the Shelbys for months. What would happen if the instant you see them again and all that self-esteem and fierceness just...dispersed? Like the air. Just...gone?

But you also had pride. Showing up and being the strong woman you swore you’d always been all these months was important to you. 

You were different and had moved on.

You stare into her big blue eyes for a few seconds and although you feel a pang of hurt course through you because fuck, they remind you so much of Tommy, you force a smile and nod.

“Okay.” 

She smiles widely and you’re forced to do the same. “Good.” 

She throws on her purse and whirls around to walk off but pauses just before stepping outside. “Oh, and Y/n?”

“Hm?”

She smirks. “Bring a date.” 

And then she swings the door open, stepping out in the chilly Birmingham air.

*

You were nervous as you considered your naked figure in the full-body mirror before you. 

You didn’t want to, but you could feel all those insecurities from before swelling up in your chest. 

Why wasn’t I enough for him?

Was it because my hair wasn’t soft enough? You run your fingers through your short hair and tilt your head to the side, trailing your fingers over your stomach and frowning as you pinch the skin. Maybe my stomach wasn’t flat enough? Or maybe it was my lips? Your hands fly to your lips, patting them gently. Maybe they weren’t soft enough? 

You begin regretting saying yes to Ada and asking your friend, Frankie, to accompany you. But then you remind yourself you’re...you. And if Tommy didn’t find that enough, it’s his loss. 

Abruptly, and fueled merely by the thought of Thomas's face when he saw you, you tug on clothes so uncharacteristically you. 

But that was before and this is now, you think ingratiatingly to yourself. This is you now.

The dress was darker than you’d usually go for and made a wonderful contrast with your skin. It was also shorter than you were used to and exposed your legs far more than you were usually comfortable with. It was a size smaller and hugged all your curves in a sensual but equally elegant manner.

The material was soft against your skin, glittering beads formed intricate patterns that glistened when you hit the light and the bottom of the dress fanned out into loose strands that curved around your legs charmingly when you walked. 

You pull on some cream stockings and black heels. Curling your hair backward and away from your face, you carefully put a crystal headband over it.

Finally, you stare in the mirror and spread a light line of eyeliner around your eyes and then accentuate your lashes with mascara. Then you applied a light coat of an intense deep passion red over your lips. 

With a satisfied smile, you twirl around in the mirror. 

You looked good.

*

When Frankie saw you, his jaw dropped and his eyes widened impossibly. Literally. You thought it’d fall off if he continued gawking at you like that. 

...You weren’t sure if it was a good sign though.

Deflating, you feel all the confidence from before rush out of you in a breath.  

“What? Is it too much?” You self consciously look down at yourself.  

His eyes widen even more and he swallows harshly, eyes completely taking you in. 

“Oh my God,” he breathes.

You groan, slapping your thigh impatiently. “Frankie! Is it or isn’t it too much?” 

He shakes his head furiously, still dumbfounded. “N-no. Y-you look...gorgeous.” 

You grin in relief and smack him upside the head. “You bastard. You fucking scared me. C’mon we’re already late.”

Looping your arms through his, you begin tugging him out of your house. 

He hisses and rubs his sore head, sending you a dirty look. “Yeah, well maybe if someone didn’t spend an entire fucking hour getting ready we’d leave earlier, eh?” 

As you both get in the car, you smirk at him, gesturing to yourself. 

“Yeah, well your reaction conveyed that it was worth the fucking wait so shut your bloody mouth and drive, yeah?” 

He gasps dramatically and starts the car. 

“So harsh,” he quips. 

You roll your eyes, leaning into the seat of the car and fiddling nervously with your clutch. 

*

Your heart is positively pounding when you pull up to Tommy’s mansion.

The red brick and extensive lawn are enough to make you lightheaded with overwhelming emotions you thought you had long buried deep inside yourself.

Your heart is beating so hard and loud in fact, that you don't hear Frankie saying something until he nudges your arm with his elbow gently.

He places a hand on your shoulder, hazel eyes glinting brightly with concern. “You okay?” He frowns. 

You take a deep breath and nod, forcing a reassuring smile. 

“Fine. Let’s go.” 

When you walk into the house you try not to fiddle too hard and bring your chin higher in the air, chest held defiantly out and strides confidently as you walk further into the living area. 

The older woman who’d answered the door, Mary you think her name was, smiles politely and gestures for your coats. You and Frankie hand it to her and thank her with a smile. 

“Right that way, please. Mr. Shelby is expecting you.” 

Hearing those words sends a shiver down your spine you somehow manage to ignore. 

He was going to be there. After all these months...you were finally going to see him.

Frankie stops you as you step forward confidently. 

You look up at him questioningly. 

“Are you sure?” he frowns nervously. 

You smile somewhat meekly and grip his hand in yours. 

“I have to.” Your voice is soft but firm and he slowly nods and sighs, offering you his arm. 

“Shall we?” 

You slip your arm through his and take a deep breath, walking with purpose towards the dining room where loud chatter was nearing the closer you stepped to it.

Tonight was sure to be an interesting night...

***

Hey guys! So I decided to make this three-parter cause why not? 

Anywho, exciting news!!

Thanks again to @tscamander, who gave me the idea, I have decided to make another three-chapter mini Thomas Shelby series! 

I’ll be posting the master list for that and this series at the same time sometime next week. 

A Special Thanks to: 

@ly--canthrope  

@tscamander - My “Oblivious” human beings 

@kaliforniacoastalteens- My only PB peep! (Ik how much you love when I say that, love. Lol.)

And of course

@sherlockedtash88

@lilypalmer1987

@mogaruke

@jessikared97 - my incredible forevers

[jq37]

sooo.... what’s the tea on the new ep? :)

**spoilers for family in flames**

I have so much to say I’m not drafting this on tumblr lest it crash and I lose a soul-crushing amount of yelling into the void.

And, I gotta say, THIS episode is the reason I haven’t posted my adult rankings list yet. THIS RIGHT HERE. I KNEW some crap was gonna go down and force me to make some HUGE adjustments.

Also, We are feeling vindicated in this house today! But let’s start from the top and work our way down.

“Raise your hands if you really care about your parents.”

Fabian having to be like, “Look, your parents suck but don’t you have siblings?” (Kristen: Ugh, I guess)

Adaine pointing out that she cares about Gorgug’s parents.

Brennan listening to them argue about what to do like he doesn’t know they’re about to be arrested for a whole ass MONTH.

Fig wanting to method act while texting the phone, pretending to be scared.

So is the arcade owner (Frank Dunford) relevant? Brennan had the name on hand. But maybe it was just him being a good worldbuilder and anticipating the question. I feel like it’s probably that because this is late in the game to be introducing new people who are super relevant.

“Gilear’s got a little knife”

I KNEW those arcade prizes were gonna be gear they could pick up! ALWAYS RAID THE ROOM. Some of that stuff might have helped in the fight. I loved the group silently reading the cards and exchanging them to whoever they thought it would help most in the background as Brennan did the ID spell.

“This has been, if I may say so, the *best* use of the identify spell.”

I love that Adaine thanks everyone, including her inanimate spells. She’s just a good person.

OK so this episode addressed a LOT of questions I had about how these literal children were getting away with all of these murders and such. Apparently, the adventuring academy kids traditionally just get away with this stuff because of Arthur’s influence and the nature of adventurers.

Adaine coming in hot with the diplomatic immunity and then remembering, oh wait, we’re at war w/ Falinel.

Fig immediately starting smoking when she gets arrested.

I love the federal agent outsider with perspective coming in and being rightfully horrified by the absolute nonsense that’s been going on the past 15 episodes.

Is Riz’s mom the only competent cop at this station? Is there a one competent adult per location rule?

Bill Seacaster Upon Learning the Bad Kids are In Jail: Did you try to escape?

“How are things going?”/“I mean bad. I’m in jail.”

Fig upon offhandedly and indirectly being called a vigilante by Sklonda: Thank you.

Emily loses it whenever anything happens in Gilear’s orbit.

Wild that Adaine decided to spontaneously call Goldenhoard considering what happened later. Like, it wasn’t a completely out of nowhere decision and it was totally logical but they could have easily overlooked that decision. 

Like, I know things happen later that make this kinda moot but I loved Goldenhoard’s conversation with Adaine in jail. “Don’t to talk to anyone without a lawyer and kill anyone you have to to get out. The school will pay for the rezzes.”/“That’s exactly what our plan was. God, I love this school.”

Although, sidenote, I feel like you can only easily rez someone within a minute? Like, I know there are other D&D spells that let you do it after a longer period of time but with the whole phoenix egg thing and the fact that they haven’t come up so far, I feel like Brennan isn’t using the in this setting for stakes reasons.

Man that whole conversation with Fig and her mom. Emily plays Fig so balls to the wall that I kinda forget sometimes that she’s actually an intelligent adult woman who knows what she’s doing with the character so I really shouldn’t be surprised with how well she stuck the emotional beats of this episode.

Gorthalax man! TyraWeWereAllRootingForYou.gif If he left, like, actually left and isn’t just held up somehow, then that’s gonna be really not great for Fig’s general psyche. 

Kristen COMPLETELY undercutting the moment by point blank asking if they had sex.

No wonder Sandra-Lynn was so worried about Fig. She was totally Fig growing up. Which, lol, she’s not even half tiefling. She was just *like that*

Oh so Gilear has always been super lame. Good to know.

Fig: I think I have mommy issues./The Rest of the Party: You have all the issues.

Fabian: You’re trying to hook up with a 25 year old adult./Fig: What do you mean trying?I’m successfully kissing him once every couple weeks. (Which, lol but also I’m glad that’s as far as it got…you know if it has to go any amount forward).

They just let Bill into the cell?????

Lou when Zac rolls a 1 for perception on Bill Secaster and he knows what’s coming: Don’t fucking do this. (Everyone else: Already trying not to lose it)

Zac’s Gorgug being contemplative and also completely wrong face is so funny to me every time.

“Why would you kill me?”/“Why would you know that?”

Who is more insane? Gorgug for suggesting him and Fabian could be twins (aren’t they different ages????) or Bill for thinking he’s so awesome he could somehow do that?

Kristen trying to help FIg distract Bill by blurting out, “Have you ever had sex?” After the conversation where he said point blank he’s slept with 100s of orc women. 

Fabian yelling at his dad is kinda undercut by continuing to call him papa in the most poncy accent.

I don’t think I’ve articulated this properly before but this episode really drove it home: Fabian and Bill have a *close* relationship but not an entirely healthy one. Like, better than Adaine and her parents by leaps and bounds but he wrestled his son in a jail cell while his friends just watched. Like, who does that?

Imagine if Riz had tried to get between Bill and Fabian. 

Also imagine being the rest of the party just sitting there, watching that go down.

“We’ve spent so much of our lives obsessed with our dads and we’ve completely ignored our moms.”/“You’re just again talking about yourself.”

I can’t believe Fig’s suggestion spell would have worked if head boss in charge fed lady hadn’t been there. Speaking of her, as soon as she showed up I knew they weren’t going to be able to shenanigan their way out of this one (which is literally the word Emily used, hilariously). I don’t think even a nat 20 would have gotten them very far. Remember last week when I said that I was sure there was going to be a prom finale but I was also pretty sure there was still a good chunk of time before prom? As soon as they got arrested and the feds showed up I was like, “Oh they are not getting out until prom for sure.”

Siobhan trying not to laugh while Emily tries a ridiculous plan that might have worked in a different episode honestly.

Ally trying to Pirates of the Carribean her way out of the jail cell.

The cops didn’t even take their stuff in a month!

“I’m glad this is in my head and no one else can hear things like this.”

I love how Fabian rolls his eyes at Adaine for thanking her spells but he always thanks the Hangman.

Realistically the Hangman would have told Fabian the plan before it happened but the way it played out was soooo good.

The return of Mr. Cubby!!!! I was hoping it would be him but man! It was still so awesome to see happen. I wonder if Brennan introduced that family specifically in case the group ever needed to be busted out of jail (a likely need).

“Laws are threats made by the dominant socioeconomic ethnic group of a given nation.”

“You guys wanna make some bacon?”

“That was on fire the whole time? You’re so brave!” Adaine likes adults who aren’t her parents so much.

Riz being like uhhhhh my mom works here.

“To the AV club!”/“It’s been months!”

OK so they took a palimpsest from Bill in this episode. That was there to tip them off that he’s up to something I’m sure, but I feel like that could also turn out to be a Chekov’s gun for next ep. I’m sure the ability to trap someone’s should would be useful in the finale.

S/O to Brennan for his excellent foreshadowing throughout the episode and honestly the whole series.

Siobhan thinking to check the trash folder of his computer was a good move, even if it didn’t end up being the right one.

OK, strap in guys. This is where things get WILD.

Siobhan’s “Oh shit!” when she got halfway down the page of Watches and Wards and then that Harry Potter sounding sting in the background.

(Before I get any further, I love that Adaine’s first thought was well that means my sister isn’t Kal Vaxis because she thinks her sister is the root of all evil).

But WOW. After all the trash talking of the old oracle, it turns out Adaine is the new eleven oracle! And she has been since EPISODE ONE. I almost thought she was gonna be *that* elven oracle because of the questions the cast was asking but nope. It is, as Zac and Siobhan put it, a The Santa Clause situation where the last one dies and someone else gets the job.

Brennan’s faint amusement as they work through that is so good.

You know what’s kinda hilarious in hindsight about that? I said before that, so far, every person Adaine has pegged as trash has ended up being trash of the highest order and an enemy of the party and of course she’s been good at predicting things! She’s the literal oracle.

Am I reading this wrong or is the Religious Studies teacher name Yolanda Badgood?

Also the sheet says “Lunchlad (Official Title)” RIP dude.

Emily low key thinking this is going to be about pay disparity between the races.

Will putting the book back retroactively get rid of anything bad currently cast in school?

Brennan going, “Nothing happens.”/“You see an upside down waste paper basket.” Is such a GM mood. I had a session once where I spent half an hour just saying, “You’re looking at the door,” in various ways.

No one knows what Goldenhoard’s name actually is and it’s the second to last episode.

I feel like Brennan must have gotten forehead/cheek kissed a lot as a child because he’s constantly having NPCs do it. 

Are elves in this setting actually immortal (barring being actually killed) or just long lived? Because Adaine talks like she’s immortal but I wasn’t sure. Anyway, newsflash Adaine. You’ve been mortal this whole campaign! Because apparently, the elven oracle always eventually dies. 

I love that Adaine finally confronted the oracle about sinking on a ship and actually ended up kinda sympathizing with her. I can’t believe this is how that running joke ends.

Fabian at the ghost of the past eleven oracle who’s imparting wisdom on Adaine: Who are you?

Ally: Can I do something weird? (Dude, when do you not?)

Ally mumbling through an inspiring spell as Murph clues in to the paperwork discrepancy that blows the plot twist wide open. And then miming the whole thing in the background as the scene goes on.

“He was mean so I thought that meant he was a good guy.” More stern than mean really but yeah! Same Murph!

You know how you know things are about to get real? When the DM starts letting you do stuff like bust down doors without even rolling for it because there are bigger fish to fry.

The 69 glyphs of binding. Nice.

But in seriousness, Kal Vaxis (apparently it’s spelled Kalvaxus but I can’t be bothered to change that in this post) was apparently trapped by Arthur and bound to work at Aguefort (as Goldenhoard) because…he’s a wildcard I guess. Sidenote, can you imagine what this season might have looked like if Arthur hadn’t died? Or was that always the plan for him to die in some way? Like to resurrect an NPC maybe if the crew hadn’t lost 2 party members.

Man when he said last ep that the girls were going back to school I thought OK that makes sense because it’s the AV computer that Biz used or maybe it’s Penelope. But I totally overlooked teachers.

OK so the binding spell specifically says “as long as I live” and Arthur is dead. So….what does that mean exactly? And this plan seems to have been in motion from before Arthur died. What does that mean? Also, if that wording means he’s freed when Arthur dies, what was Arthur thinking killing himself???? Did he need Kristen to sneak him into heaven so he could talk to Sol and do some scheming or something? AHHHHH I have so many questions.

Also in the binding is a clause about tea. Now, first of all, Arthur, bro. Come on. Second of all, a lawyer really should have looked at that. “I will drink anything you give me”? I work at a law firm. I’m a lowly first year but even I know that’s a terrible thing to put in a contract. I’m sure y'all non lawyers know that too!

Karam-Kajam (the binding spell words) kinda looks like “magic maker” backwards. That doesn’t mean anything. I just wanted y'all to know I was freeze framing every thing that might be a clue.

OK ok ok, so I’ve been saying for a while now (in posts but mainly over chat) that all this bad stuff must be like connected to a central person in service of a central goal but the players were probably all unconnected wild cards acting in self interest. The one thing I couldn’t quite put together was what because these plots have been mainly unconnected. But now, we have it! All the weird things starting a war (by manipulating the harvestmen), getting 7 maidens (by manipulating Biz), and reinstating prom king/queen (by manipulating (?) Penelope and Dayne, also yes! my wild card guess was that prom king/queen was going to be part of a spell or curse or something. Guess it was prophecy but yes! vindication!) are parts of a prophecy on how to bring back Kalvaxis! (Along with him getting his “glittering treasure”?)

But yeah! No wonder it was so hard to put the pieces together! They all connected but only through a prophecy. Good job Bren!

“The sun shall fall from the heavens” is part of the prophecy which makes me think Sol or Helios might be involved in this somehow.

Ally: There are definitely going to be 7 virgins at prom. (That deserved a rim shot).

Good on Murph for making sure none of them were on the virgin list bc that would have been a pain in the ass to find out mid-fight. Also, I KNEW “Where are their bodies” was the question to ask last ep when Biz said they were going back to their bodies.

“Who told you that? An oracle?”

I hope Adaine just uses her oracle status to make sick one liners like, “I predict this is gonna hurt,” before she witchbolts someone. She never does her actual job. 

Adaine who hates her family, righteously indignant: Between our houses and the world, you expect us to choose our houses?

The rest of the group who loves their family: BYEEEEE.

Well, no. Kristen also had reservations before she remembered her brothers existed.

Adaine texting her mom: You should probably leave.

Siobahn and Ally fistbumping over their mutual not caring about their parents.

OK so what’s up with the rat? What’s so important about the rat? And what’s up with Zayne? We still haven’t figured out what’s up with him.

Still not clear on if the crystals trap your physical body or just your spirit and leave your physical body dormant irl.

So that’s how they got rid of the adults for the fight. Nice job again Brennan.

As far as I can tell, Brennan made up this usage of the word palimpsest and I’d never heard of the word before and now I type it so much. Wild.

“I’m calling an Uber. You use the minute to go look at as much shit as you can. Jump in the Uber with me, come to my house. Look Rudolpho will be here in two minutes in a Honda Civic. Use one of those minutes. Go.”

A Knight to Remember. 

They freaking Chitty Chitty Bang Bang to Kristen’s house.

I love how Uber Drivers in this world are still gunning for 5 stars.

OK, time for the most stressful 30 minutes of Fantasy High (so far).

I think the wagering mechanic Brennan used for the fights was brilliant. For each conflict a d20 was rolled. 1-6=epic fail. 7-14=bad but not awful. 15-20=favorable outcome. The twist was that if the person chose to help their family they could give up half their HP and 14 spell levels and he would roll with advantage.

Everyone quickly took that deal except Adaine who truly does not give a damn about her family (and also, reasonably, thought that they wouldn’t even be at home. Idk why they apparently were tbh).

When Emily said, “She’s a complex person and she’s allowed to be,” that was the moment I was like, “Oh yeah. She’s not actually Fig. IRL she knows what’s happening.”

Siobhan uses her divination roll of 18 to save Kristen’s family without having to risk anything but the Ally turns around and decides to take the deal to try and save Adaine’s family WHEN ADAINE DOESN’T EVEN CARE. But it makes sense that Kristen would.

Lou’s monolog as Brennan rolls about how nerve wracking and terrible it is to have no idea what’s going on.

“This is the worst thing I’ve been a part of.”

“I was wondering why my mom visited me and humanized herself and this is exactly why.”

Lou/Fabian: What if my fucking family dies? (F O R E S H A D O W I N G, albeit unknowingly)

Brennan (sagely): It couldn’t have been any other way./Siobhan: It could’ve been!

lol at Adaine trying to trigger that ice cream later wish at their darkest moment (so far). Also, not that I think Brennan ever forgot about it but now I’m for sure it’s gonna come up next ep bc if nothing else that would have reminded him.

OK first up, Fig and her mom.

“Dang they’re already organized with costumes?”

That was so boss, her mom getting revived and then IMMEDIATELY shooting two guys w/ her bow.

Emily LEGIT crying through that scene. The whole room was on an emotional tightrope. You can tell.

Where in the mountains Sandra-Lynn!? I want specifics Sandra-Lynn!!

I love the idea of her jumping out of a window onto a dope griffin’s back. Fig’s mom just bought herself a bunch of spots on my grown-up rankings list.

Ally: THAT WAS NUMBER ONE

Me: SAME.

Next Riz at Strongtower

I knew Sklonda was going to be in the secret room!

I love that apparently Riz can recognize his mom’s gun by hearing it.

I know it was in the promo but Riz’s mom being like, “I was so scared you were gonna ask me to prom” was hysterical.

You just know Sklonda and Agent Angela have been fighting like cats and dogs this past month.

Riz and his mom high fiving. They have the best relationship.

Gorgug and the Thistlesprings

lol, looks like his parents had the easiest time wrecking their intruders.

But based on how it was described as compared to everyone else (bar Fabian–we’re getting there), it sounds like he got pretty dang hurt.

And I guess they have a tank (which they usually use to mow the lawn) and a bomb chest? Wild.

Anyway, if anything had happened to them insert Rosa B99 meme.

“You come to the tree, you better be ready to never fucking leave, you understand?” So boss. (Also, is that a pun?)

Gorgug’s parents launched a satellite while Gorgug was in jail.

Kristen and co.

Kristen’s dad (who is the worst): You think these guys were illegals, what?

Kristen: I’m gonna take the car, byeeee.

Kristen and Adaine bonding over their terrible parents.

I’m Concerned about Kristen’s brothers.

Abernants

They poofed out. Idk why they were still there to begin with.

So the damage they took was supposed to represent the danger the took in their respective fights. Kristen got Adaine’s divination roll meaning her family was fine either way but she did take damage for Adaine’s family. But the fight was already over by the time they got there. So, in story, any injuries sustained must have been from the fight at her house, even though that wasn’t technically the deal.

Anyway, Adaine doesn’t care about her family so let’s not waste any time moving onto

Seacaster manor

Geez

OK, you guys. Let me tell you my buildup to the realization that Bill had to die.

In the first set of episodes, when tone was established, I said to myself, a parent is going to die. I don’t know who, but someone will.

Then, Bill gave them a training montage and I thought, curse of the mentor. He’s going to die. Besides, he’s one of the biggest parental figures and he’s larger than life–perfect for a fall.

Then Sklonda took down the Harvestmen and I briefly shifted my worry to her.

But then Fabian started clashing with Bill. And I remembered all the constant talk of his mortality.

And then, this ep, Brennan made him choose between his mom and dad and I was pretty sure. (sidenote: Fabian yelling at his mom the same ep Adaine said he has a great relationship with his mom. But, like, compared to her, maybe. Also, mean Brennan.)

And then Fabian lost an eye (with a description that still makes me wince) and I KNEW. Once he lost his eye, there was no way Bill could leave the fight alive, thematically.

Honestly, it was a wrap when Fabian played the video from his dad. I was worried he’d die before he got there. 

(It was a low blow, and I credit you that.)

Why were there Harvestmen attacking Fabian’s house and no one elses?

Fabian’s mom just drinking while the house is being raided.

I was so sure the tuxed Harvestman who attacked Fabian was going to turn out to somehow be Daybreak or something. Anyway, it has to come up again. There’s no reason for that level of detail otherwise. And tux sounds like prom attire.

Lou rolls a nat 1 and then rerolls it because he has the lucky trait. What’s funny is just started listening to NADNDPod and Murph (who reminded Lou about the lucky thing) disallowed one of his players from rerolling a nat 1 even w/ the lucky in the last ep I listened to. I don’t remember if the circumstances were different though.

Bill handcuffing himself up to keep fighting. Yikes.

Anyway, ugh that whole death scene. I would write more but this is closing in on 4k words and I’ve been working on this for hours. I just wanna say, that was a perfect way to go out for him. Killing 60 people and then getting stabbed by his son and exploding. So baller (as was Fabian jumping out the window onto his bike and catching Bill’s sword. He has so many cool swords now).

It’s a crime no one does animatics for this show.

We also got a piece of the puzzle. Bill was the one supplying the palimpsests (or at least one of the ones. who was doing it before?) not for an evil reason. Just a chaotic neutral reason of wanting to recapture the glory days. So now we know that.

I mentioned this before but…Fabian is Thor.

“I SHALL LEAP INTO HELL AND KILL THE DEVIL HIMSELF” and Bill Seacaster is dril apparently.

I love Fabian destroying the nice thing Bill said about him to preserve his legacy.

Ally: HE COULD HAVE SURVIVED.

I appreciate so much that Lou knew his character so well that without any hesitation he stabbed Bill and that was the right choice.

Whew, that was a lot.

Also, not that I don’t trust Brennan but it’s wild that Bill, the most thematically appropriate parent to die, was the only one who failed his roll apparently. 

Aww at Zelda’s message to Gorgug. She made him a playlist! So 80’s high school. It gives him a bonus! Also I really wanna know what’s on the list. Like, is it all fantasy rock puns or actual songs? Yay for Brennan giving them cool items for good RPing. 

Live band. Nice.

Emily and Zac both rolled 20’s for initiative for next week’s fight. Hopefully that’s a good omen. We have no way of knowing because THERE’S NO PROMO FOR NEXT WEEK.

AHHHHHHHHHHHH

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

This isn’t edited. This is more than 4000 words. This is so long my computer is about to die. Thank you and goodnight. 

[tremendouspeachduck]

2 Things You Must Know About  the REPUBLICAN, AMERICAN INDIAN

No.  Really?

above car - 1933 Chevy 3-window coup w/rumble seat

Do you think Pres. Trump is a bully, I don’t.  Why?

Talking about the “War on Men” …  5 touchy subjects   …

Abortion – should the man have an opinion and be able to voice it?

Free Birth Control    HERE    and    HERE   ***   Please notice, abortion is not listed as a birth control option

Pres Trump would have never won if it weren’t for the black vote  

See Video                                  and this video too       don’t forget this one

Men seem to take it to a whole other level.  The Bible has something to reveal about name calling.  Also, the systematic criticism and self-doubt are what takes it from name calling to verbal abuse – it’s a repeated pattern that, over time, can make the victim believe the insults, making it harder for them to leave (“no one will love me because they said so”).

Beyond name calling, abusers may belittle their partner, either privately publicly, or disguise disparaging comments in jokes. This can be followed up by more judgment and criticism (“You’re too sensitive”) or acting as those what they’ve said is trivial (“I was only joking”). Other examples of name calling include putting someone down, making them feel guilty, or embarrassing and humiliating them.

Healthy relationships don’t use name calling to resolve conflict or express love. Both partners make the other one feel good about themselves. It’s relaxing and fun, and neither tries to “prove” they are the only ones that will ever love them. Instead, each partner sets boundaries on what’s acceptable behavior, including what nicknames or jokes are okay.

Can you think of a great sight to see walking in the city? Click to see it

Recognizing these early warning signs can make the difference between staying in an unhealthy relationship that worsens over time, or ending it and being in one that’s healthy.

Should men care about your makeup?  The correct answer is “yes,”  if it makes the woman happy.  Lips and the smile are what is very appealing to a man.

How to support a woman’s period?  No rude comments about what’s in the trash bin, about her being moody… no jokes, no nothing.  It’s ok to make her laugh, laughter is good medicine BUT do not joke about it being “that time of the month again”.

By knowing her cycle, you can be more aware and sensitive to her changing moods and physical discomfort. This develops a deeper trust as your woman knows you are really present with what she is experiencing. Put it in your calendar so you have a heads up.

Interestingly, having an orgasm can relieve menstrual cramps, though your attitude during the whole cycle will determine whether or not she’s willing to explore this. Again , this is probably best to bring up when she isn’t in the middle of it.

She may act like she doesn’t want you there, but remember she may actually desire some TLC. Your full presence is the best medicine. She will love you for this!

Help create a cozy environment for her, and cook her comfort food. Hugs are also great.  The main thing is to not be an ass. (closing down and or not wanting to deal is being an ass)

Finding ways to be positive is the key to building a healthy body image and positive self-esteem.  What we read and watch has a huge impact on how we feel about ourselves. Because of this, we should be very particular about the magazines and websites we will look at.  We might love reading about the interesting things that people, and women in particular, accomplish.  Shopping centers aren’t only sucking your money, they are also sink holes for body confidence. Getting caught up in a conversation about the way someone else looks, whether they have put on weight and so on, inevitably leads to thoughts on our own appearance.  Don’t participate.  Touch is an incredibly powerful way of reinforcing the way you feel about your body. And if you’re touched gently, with love and care, you will feel incredible. So, try to practice gentle love and care with yourself. Wash your hair the way the hairdresser did. Wash your face the way a beauty therapist would. Give yourself a massage when you’re applying moisturizer. It feels good. And it reinforces a positive, kind relationship with your body.  Meditation is an incredibly effective tool for clearing away unhelpful thought cycles. 10 minutes. 5 minutes. 1. Whatever. Just sit, close your eyes and breathe.

Eating respectfully means accepting and being mindful of the nutrients that your body requires to function. It means eating plenty of good food and ditching sugary and pretend foods that compromise our digestive health, our hormonal balance, our mood and energy levels.  The flip side of eating respectfully is to move past the binge-fast guilt cycle. If you eat something unhealthy, please don’t punish yourself or try to restrict caloric intake. Healthy eating and body respect is not about food deprivation. It’s about food celebration.  When you look in the mirror, try to replace any negative thoughts that are pushing their way through with an affirming thought about the way you look or feel.

People who have purpose are too busy getting stuff done to worry about how they look. In the end, creative expression, passionate parenting, effective leadership and growing the best-goddamn-tomatoes-in-the-neighborhood is far more satisfying than making sure you look good in an outfit at all times.

Positive self-image is a habit, not an attribute and your partner can be helpful.

This is an excerpt from my post: THE IROQUOIS CONFEDERACY: THE “SAVAGE” EMPIRE.

The Haudenosaunee (Iroquois: Mohawk, Seneca, Oneida, Onondaga and Cayuga) really cherished population stability. Being that their population was so limited and ever diminishing due to disease outbreaks and near constant conflicts, the Haudenosaunee highly preferred losing as few men as possible. They usually evaded fighting armies that outnumbered theirs as well as avoiding fortified enemy positions and fighting pitched battles. The Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) preferred instead to employ ambushes, strike preemptively, and launch lightning fast raids under the cover of darkness. The Haudenosaunee would travel deep into enemy territory in very large numbers to scare off potential enemies from attacking them before breaking up into smaller war parties, after which these war parties would utilize swift and stealthy attacks usually in the form of ambushes or night raids.

Closer Look by Doug Hall.

Another tactic the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) employed was after traveling by way of canoes under the cover of night they would place rocks in the canoes to weigh them down and cause them to sink out of sight They would then speedily assault the enemy in coordinated attacks, vanish back into the wilderness and return to their canoes before the enemy had enough time to recuperate, assemble and counterattack. With the deadliness of firearms introduced into the equation, the Natives learned to fire at enemies from behind the cover of trees instead of the European practice of firing coordinated volleys from fixed formations.

One Step at a Time by Doug Hall.

One disadvantage the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) had over the Euro-American colonies was that Native populations were constantly diminishing and fluctuating. The Euro-American colonies surrounding them, on he other hand, were growing and receiving a constant flow of immigrants with the occasional military reinforcement from Europe. The limited number of Natives as well as their fear of dying and becoming lost souls, urged them to retreat from battle more readily than Euro-American forces – even after just a few casualties. They used safer methods of combat like the previously mentioned ambushes, night raids, espionage, and scorched earth tactics: destroying their settlements or crops in order to retreat and deprive the enemy of shelter or resources.

A Quick Glance by Doug Hall.

The Natives that wanted to lead a proposed raid against a perceived enemy would send a messenger with tobacco tasked with expressing the purpose and details of the mission, asking them to join their cause. The Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) who decided to engage in said raid would first take part in the smoking of a pipe filled with tobacco. Before leaving for the raid there would be a feast and dancing, during the ‘Dog (War) Feast’ the warriors would engage in a ceremony called the ‘striking-the-warpost’ where they would sing war songs, dance, and boast about their military exploits. After each achievement is mentioned the warrior strikes a red-painted post with their weapon (club or hatchet), the young Natives that had yet to have achieved any great feats simply danced and struck the warpost once.

A Moment Away by David Wright.

If these young Natives had proven themselves to be brave warriors during their expedition they would be seen as men and accepted as a warrior by being given their first feather. These young braves could also attain higher status, honor and prestige. I read of one story of an elder who joined in but in place of dancing he performed an awe inspiring passionate reenactment of his life as a warrior, a deep performance that displayed an array of emotions as he described all that he had experienced and accomplished throughout his lifetime.

man on right - Carson Cooper is a member of the Tlingit and Haida tribes and an Alaska native. Lee Redeye (on left) is a member of the Seneca tribe and was raised on the reservation in Irving and in New Mexico. Both attorneys are relatively new to the law firm Lippes Mathias Wexler Friedman LLP , with Cooper having joined in 2017 and Redeye earlier this year.  

Another attorney, Owen Herne, branched out on his own after beginning his career in corporate counsel for a tribe. He is a member of the Mohawk tribe and runs Herne Law PLLC.

These  three local attorneys in Buffalo, NY took different paths to focus on Indian law, but they share a bond in the desire to build careers around their ancestry.

The Jogah, or Jungies, are a race of small humanoid nature spirits from Iroquois folklore, sometimes referred to in English as “dwarves” or “pygmies.” They are usually invisible but sometimes reveal themselves to humans

After nightfall, the call of the Whip-poor-will signals their arrival.  It is important to leave baskets of food, such as corn cakes and berries, or even meat in the woods for them. Those who see the Little People should not look directly at them, they think it’s rude. If they catch you staring, they might point a finger at you, rooting you to the ground, while they take your belongings. Another rule is don’t speak of them in the summer, when they are most active.

At this time of Bad Spirits, there lived a medicine woman. One night, during a terrible storm, she heard the whip-poor-will. When she looked outside, the bird wasn’t to be found, but a small boy stood in the rain on her doorstep. It turned out he was a grown Jogah, who told her to come help someone who was sick. Though the storm was fierce, he led her through the woods a long way.

Suddenly, the storm seemed to stop as they began to descend into the ground. They were in the realm of the Little People. Weegun led her to a beehive shaped chamber of rocks. Inside, a very old woman lay in bed, very ill. The Makiawisug told the medicine woman that this was Granny Squannit, who must be made well. Granny Squannit is very powerful, and she is known to cause storms when she argues with her husband. Her illness was the reason for this storm. Worse, healers often look to Granny Squannit when the need is dire for help in healing, and here she was the one who was sick. The medicine woman treated Granny Squannit for nearly a moon before she got better. In return for restoring Granny Squannit’s health, the Makiawisug gave the medicine woman a basket of gifts and told her to remember them. She was blindfolded and taken back home.

Only when she returned did she open the basket. Inside were quartz crystals, painted skins and bunches of herbs.

People in the USA have natives who are very spiritual living maybe next door.  Embrace your neighbor - let’s get back to our community roots.

Community involvement is the solution to mass murder/shootings

Close your eyes, lean head back on pillow or head-rest, take deep breaths and listen to the story unfold         Special Cherokee Nation Song video

nice fire & listen to music flute music vid   Do you want to learn the Mohawklanguage?      the sacred horse song    See  My fav horse

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[anitabyars]

Title: A Perfect Lie

Author: Lisa Renee Jones

Release Date: May 14, 2019

ABOUT A PERFECT LIE

Secrets. Lies. A man. There's always a man. And there's always a truth to be told.

I'm Hailey Anne Monroe. I’m twenty-eight years old. An artist, who found her muse on the canvas because I wasn’t allowed to have friends or even keep a journal. And yes, if you haven’t guessed by now, I’m that Hailey Anne Monroe, daughter to Thomas Frank Monroe, the man who was a half-percentage point from becoming President of the United States. If you were able to ask him, he’d probably tell you that I was the half point. But you can’t ask him, and he can’t tell you. He’s dead. They’re all dead and now I can speak.

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EXCERPT

“Can I join you?” he asks, motioning to the table.

There’s interest in his eyes, the kind a man has for a woman, but who knows, maybe it’s real or maybe it’s not real. Maybe he knows who I am and sees a path to power and fame. The way Tobey wanted me for money and power, right up until the moment I’d called his number aka his agenda; thus, he has not called me since I left. Maybe Harvard will lie even better than Tobey did. Maybe Harvard will at least kiss better than he did, and the lies would taste like temptation rather than convenience. At least then, if I’m used, I’ll enjoy being used.

Whatever the case, it’s clear I might actually be angry with Tobey and that aside, the interest that Harvard has shown in me, must be controlled before my Denver sanctuary is destroyed. “You can join me,” I say, “but only because I’m trying to save the rest of the place from the attorney in the house.”

I am pleased when Harvard laughs, where Tobey would have scowled, proving that Harvard has a sense of humor, which is rare for those in my life. I’ve barely completed this thought when he moves forward and claims the seat next to me, not across from me, settling his briefcase on that chair instead. In the process, his leg brushes my leg and for the briefest of moments, I’m transported back to the place that I’m now trying to forget: to Austin, to Drew’s leg next to mine, his wink, and I do now what I did then. I jerk back. If Harvard notices he doesn’t react. “Since we haven’t been formally introduced,” he says, resting his naked hands on the table. “I’m Logan. Logan Casey.”

“Logan Casey,” I repeat trying to ground myself in the present, at least for now, but some part of me is still swimming in that memory, which naturally has me wondering if this man is a shark in the water around me. “Two first names,” I add. “Sounds like your parents fought over who got to pick your first name. Did they draw straws for which choice became your middle name?”

“You’re actually right on target,” he says, laughing again, and it’s a nice, masculine laugh, and oddly this thought feels familiar while Logan does not. “No one has ever guessed that,” he adds. “My mother won the name war. The women always win. Speaking of names. Do you have one?”

“Hailey Anne Pitt,” I say, “and in my house, my father won the name war.” Because in my father’s world, I add silently, the women don’t win the wars. At least, not that he knows, not in an obvious way. I’ve learned this well.

“Well then, Hailey Anne Pitt,” he says, “what’s a Stanford girl like you, doing in a place like this? You’re a long way from school.”

I’m smacked in the face with a lesson I’ve long ago learned and forgotten with this man; strangers do not always remain strangers and all offhanded remarks can come back to haunt you. “That was a joke,” I say, shutting the door connected to my real life, and a path that leads to my father. “I hate attorneys, remember?”

He narrows his eyes on me, and for no reason other than instinct, I believe he’s looking for a lie that he won’t find. I’m simply too well-taught from birth, too skilled at being more than one person to allow such a detection. Well that, and the fact that I really do hate attorneys, which is why I’ll be a good one.

“That was a joke?” he confirms.

“Yes,” I say. “Are you amused?”

“Yes, actually. I am. What does a lawyer-hating smart ass like yourself do for a living?”

“When not busy taunting those who went to law school,” I say. “I’m an aspiring artist.” Both honest answers, if you put a “was” in front of the “aspiring artist” which I’d thought that I’d come to terms with, but the knot in my stomach says I have not.

Logan motions toward the art room. “Your career explains why you ended up here.”

“I guess it does,” I say, as this place serves me well to reconnecting to the Pitt part of my life, which is a place I really need to be right now, for all kinds of reasons.

“Are you good?” Logan asks, as if he’s read my mind.

My father’s words answer him in my head. Art is useless unless you’re famous, he used to say often, because of course, it was inconceivable that I might be good enough to be famous. “Art is like movies and food,” I say, shoving aside that bad memory. “Good is subjective.” I don’t give him time to reply. I ping the conversation back toward him. “What kind of law do you practice?”

“Corporate,” he says, and this time he pings back to me. “Do you live in the neighborhood?”

“Yes,” I say simply. “Do you?”

“I bought a building a few years ago where I live and work which means this is my home turf, and why I know you’re new here.”

“I am,” I say and since he’s clearly going to ask for details, I quickly preempt with an on-the-fly story. Actually, it’s the suggested story, Rudolf included in my file. “I came here for a job, and my new boss owns a house he’s rented to me for dirt cheap.”

“And what does an artist do but create art for a living?”

“I’m working for a private art acquisitions firm. I now hunt for treasures for a living.” This lie is actually my dream job that I’ve never been allowed to entertain.

The horror flick loving waitress delivers my coffee and brownie. “Thank you,” I say, because every politician’s daughter has manners beaten into her.

“No problem,” she says, “but if you come to your senses and want a better version of that coffee, just shout.” She eyes Logan. “I already know you want a crappy tasting coffee, on endless pour and a chocolate chip cookie. Coming right up.”

“Thanks, Megan,” he says, giving her a wink that I don’t classify as flirtatious, just friendly, and Megan is gone.

“Obviously you’re a regular,” I comment, “and they even like you.”

“And they like me,” he confirms, “despite knowing I’m an attorney.

“Because you’re good looking and use it to your advantage.”

He arches a brow. “You think I’m good looking, do you?”

“Oh, come on,” I say, crinkling my nose. “Everyone thinks you’re good looking. I’m simply stating a fact. We use what we have and those of us that are smart, know what we have.” I move on from what is really quite inconsequential. “Why work here, not at home, or in the office?”

“I find I get a lot of work done with a cookie, coffee, and no access to streaming television,” he explains.

No one in my D.C. crowd would make an admission of being human and distractible. Some people in my situation might take comfort in that fact, but I don’t. Logan’s an attorney, and my gut, which I’ll confirm with research, says he’s a powerful one, the kind that radiates toward my father. Maybe that’s a coincidence and maybe it’s not. Maybe he’s testing how well I execute my cover story. The possibilities are many. Though in all fairness to Logan, perhaps I’d lean toward his innocence, if not for the laundry list of recent events such as Tobey being gay and the FBI agent, who is likely working for my father, that I slept with to prove I was a) still desirable and b) not a killer.

ABOUT LISA

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones is the author of the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT series.

In addition to the success of Lisa's INSIDE OUT series, she has published many successful titles. The TALL, DARK AND DEADLY series and THE SECRET LIFE OF AMY BENSEN series, both spent several months on a combination of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling lists. Lisa is also the author of the bestselling WHITE LIES and LILAH LOVE series.

Prior to publishing Lisa owned multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by the Dallas Women's Magazine. In 1998 Lisa was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine.

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My Review!

5 ⭐️

Riveting!!!

Wow! This is a riveting, suspenseful, mystery that is about greed, destiny, betrayal, secrets, lies, power, money and ambition. It’s about what some powerful people may do to get ahead. But is also the story of a young woman Hailey Anne Monroe whose father has political aspirations to become the President. A father who appears to be disdainful of rules, of laws and of ethics. Raised from infancy to be the perfect daughter, Hailey tells us her story, as she searches for answers, and finds out what she is truly made of. Written in past and present tense it takes you on her journey of what she says is the truth. But is it? Or could it be the perfect lie?

This story took me on a wild ride, making me question every single character and situation the whole way through. There were little hints along the way that built this story, so many little things that started to tick off this list of what was real and who was behind all of this. I spent most of the chapters mentally keeping track of all the big and small clues. My mind constantly racing trying to figure out where this was all leading next. Because we have learned that in politics and life that lies can and are avoided by the many versions of the truth.

Lisa Renee Jones did a phenomenal job crafting this story, and I was held captive until the end. I loved its fast pace and unexpected turns. So clear your schedule. Bring a snack. This will keep you reading late into the night. I couldn’t put it down. I highly recommend this story.

I voluntarily read and reviewed an advanced reader copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.