#surviving r. kelly

[mxdwn]

R. Kelly Appeals Federal Racketeering and Sex Trafficking Conviction

https://music.mxdwn.com/2023/04/20/news/r-kelly-appeals-federal-racketeering-and-sex-trafficking-conviction/

[onlybuilt4expensivetaste]

Interesting.

Reshona and mom Valerie Landfair

[rubylioness]

What’s very wild to me is the mv for Diddy and RKelly’s song “Satisfy You” starred former video vixen Talani Rabb, whom is now RZA’s wife…and RZA was accused by Azealia Banks of trying to pimp her out to Russell Crowe in 2016…

[sxnshxnxxnddxxsxxs]

SEAN CARTER I HAVE BEEN PRAYING ON YOUR DOWNFALL FOR YEARS

[onlybuilt4expensivetaste]

Why doesn’t Reddit have a post-Surviving R. Kelly thread?

[recentlyheardcom]

R. Kelly's Daughter Claims Singer Sexually Abused Her as a Child

R. Kelly’s daughter Buku Abi, also known as Joann Kelly, has alleged the imprisoned singer sexually abused her as a child in a new documentary for the TVEI Streaming Network. “He was my everything. For a long time, I didn’t even want to believe that it happened. I didn’t know that even if he was a bad person that he would do something to me,” a tearful Buku Abi says in R. Kelly‘s Karma: A…

[aizenat]

I think the biggest factor in this is when Johnny Depp was huge: the mid to late 90s and 2000s. For boomers, I would imagine most wouldn’t know much about his movies other than pirates. And while a lot of younger gen xers would have been the target demographic for some of his works in the 90s, I don’t think older generations are that emotionally attached to Derp as they would other actors.

For example, my gen x mother doesn’t care one way or the other for Derp (and def wouldn’t go see a movie just for him); however, she was very much so questioning all the woman who came out against Bill Cosby, still watches the Cosby Show (almost defiantly as tho to say she stands by him), and even if she finally came around to believe (SOME of) the women, was one of those ppl who felt given his age he shouldn’t face any jail time.

The biggest difference being she grew up with Bill Cosby. He was a comedian in her childhood, and she would have been in hs when the Cosby show came out. My mother loved how he pushed education with black ppl, loved a different world (she would have been college aged when that came out), etc. He was more prevalent pop culture wise in her time than mine. Sure I watched the Cosby Show reruns growing up, but when I heard the allegations, it was nothing for me to dead him in my mind. But my mother had a much harder time (and still doesn’t) after growing up seeing him in a good light. And so turning her around is hard.

Meanwhile, as a millennial, Derp was inescapable at a point. ESPECIALLY if you were an alternative kid, he was in every movie the weird goth/emo/punk/burnouts would like. Pirates, the Corpse Bride, Sweeney Todd, etc. He was even in Willy Wonka, and most ppl didn’t hate him in that (just hated the overall plot and story changes). And when that Willy Wonka movie came out, gen z would have been kids. They would have been kids during Pirates, during the Alice in Wonderland movies (that my ass had no desire to see with it’s weird cgi ass), etc.

This is why older generations get so mad when they get cancelled by younger generations because their real fans don’t have a problem with them. It’s the younger generation looking at them like “uh dude wtf.” The people loudest against Dave Chappelle for example probably weren’t huge fans of his when they were young. They probably saw a few sketches from the chappelle show and that was it. Gen Z were the ones mostly pissed at his first comedy special on Netflix, while gen xers and millennials mostly (not all, but mostly) rolled their eyes at the “controversy.”

A situation like how libs turned on JKR is rare: it’s easier to convince ppl who already don’t like you/don’t care one way or the other/don’t know you to dislike you than someone who was a fan. Look at the different responses between Keke Palmer’s no name having baby daddy and Jonah Hill who both got outed essentially doing the same thing: trying to control women’s bodies as tho expressing yourself is somehow a slight against the man a woman is with. And yet while Keke’s bd got nothing but hate, there were a lot of sympathetic takes to Jonah as he had a legit career and most ppl like him generally.

People always have a hard time letting go of their idols, but I think that millennials and gen z’s tendency to really go balls deep with their favorite celebs/influencers (how easily and commonly they form parasocial relationships with them, fan culture/fandoms, etc) it means that millennials and gen z are primed to be so emotionally invested in these ppl, as well as build huge chunks of their identity to worshipping these ppl (kpop stans are a great example of this), that disavowing them is impossible for them. And especially with how mental health/therapy talk and social justice language is what they use to both stan and dislike people, they build up defenses that will only be deterred by a huge social movement that vilifies people who think like they do.

What’s going to happen is in 15-20 years, hell maybe even within the next ten years considering things get “renaissances” despite only being around about a decade (“Twilight wasn’t THAT problematic; it was just a bunch of hate on something girls liked” or something), someone will make a documentary or a revisit of the trial. And they’re going to review the court documents and see clearly how Derp was obviously the abuser, and whoever does this deep dive will criticize millennials and gen z for siding with Derp. And the younger generation will turn to their parents and ask what they thought and be aghast to learn their parents were team Derp. And it’ll only be when public opinion changes that they’ll disavow him.

As bleak as the numbers for younger people are, I have faith that public opinion will change. In the 90s, a lot of people believed OJ was innocent. Especially black ppl who believed this was society’s attempt to (yet again) vilify an “innocent” black man. But let’s be real: we know he did it. And if that same trial happened to day, his ass would be in prison. This trial is our generation’s OJ trial. And in due time, the tide will change and people will see him as the evil, drunken bastard he is. And anyone who defended Derp then will have nothing to say.

Johnny Depp’s Popularity Decreased During Trial—Despite Social Media Craze—Survey Suggests

This is from June 2022 . The fact millennials and gen z had the smallest change and we want to mock boomers for being brainwashed by Facebook. You're going to hell

This feels like a, how addicted to social media spectacle are you? with millennials not doing good and gen z fully suffering from some brain damage

[liquoricebxxxh]

No wait because I’m seeing that his version ain’t even on Spotify 🫢

Like, in a lot of ways R. Kelly usurped little homie own song…

[helen-with-an-a]

Heyy, i hope you're doing well! I wanted to ask if you would be down to write a fic based on the song "drown" by bring me the horizon. I absolutely love this song and it has a place in my heart because this band and also this song carried me through some dark times ( I cried so hard when i heard that song live for the first time 2 months ago xD) . Maybe it could be a barca x reader fic that also deals with $elf h@rm if that is a topic you're comfortable writing about, because reading books and fan fics about this topic has been helping me immensely with my own recovery. So if this is an idea that interests you I would love to read that fic, but if it's a topic you're just not comfortable with feel free to just ignore this ask. (But seriously listen to drown it's such a beautiful song)

Hiiiiii - I hope I did this request and song justice. Please know if you are struggling, you are loved. You are so, so loved and people want to help you. I know asking for help is really hard, but I promise it is worth it. You are worth it.

Drowning

Barça femeni x reader

Description: R feels like she is drowning and the team comes to help her

Word Count: 5.4k

TW: Undescribed Self Harm; Brief mentions of cutting; Bad mental health

Kelly Clarkson once sang that whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, that it turns you into a fighter, and helps you stand a little taller. Those words are meant to inspire resilience, to remind you that adversity is supposed to build character and fortify your spirit. But as much as you wanted to believe that, as much as you tried to let those lyrics resonate in your heart, the truth is, you weren’t sure if they were true. You wished with every fibre of your being that they were, but deep down, you felt the weight of life’s challenges pressing down on you. Instead of feeling stronger, you often felt worn down, as if the struggles you faced had chipped away at your resolve rather than bolstered it.

You wanted to feel like a fighter, to stand taller in the face of hardship, but more often than not, you found yourself struggling just to stay on your feet. It was as if each obstacle left a scar that made it harder to move forward, rather than easier. The hope that you’d emerge stronger sometimes felt like a distant dream, and you wondered if that strength Kelly sang about was something you’d ever truly feel.

Half the time, it felt like you were floating – weightless, as if you were drifting through life without a solid anchor. There was a strange sensation of being unmoored, detached from the world around you, almost as if you were existing in a bubble that separated you from everything real and tangible. In those moments, you felt neither grounded nor fully present, as if the weight of your worries and responsibilities had somehow lifted, but so had your sense of purpose and direction. You were there, but not really there – drifting in a kind of limbo where everything seemed just out of reach.

The other half of the time, it felt like you were drowning – barely able to keep your head above the water as the weight of everything threatened to pull you under. The world seemed to close in around you, the pressures and responsibilities of life crashing over you like relentless waves. Each day felt like a struggle just to stay afloat, as if you were constantly treading water in an ocean of overwhelming emotions, fears, and uncertainties.

Your mind was a whirlpool, dragging you down into dark, turbulent depths where it was hard to breathe, hard to think, and hard to see any way out. Every little thing seemed like an anchor, dragging you further beneath the surface, making it harder and harder to find the strength to push back up. The sensation of drowning was terrifying – your heart raced, your breath quickened, and panic took hold as you fought desperately to survive the relentless tide.

In these moments, it felt like you were being suffocated by the weight of your own thoughts and emotions, as if they were water filling your lungs, making it impossible to take a full breath. You tried to fight against it, to keep yourself above the water, but the effort was exhausting, leaving you drained and gasping for air. The more you struggled, the deeper you seemed to sink, and the idea of finding solid ground again felt increasingly out of reach.

There was one thing that brought you a small measure of comfort, a fleeting moment of relief that made you feel a little better. It was like a lifeline thrown to you in the middle of the chaos. Just for that brief instant, your feet were on solid ground again, and you felt a sense of stability that had been missing for so long. In that split second, you weren’t drowning in the suffocating depths of your anxieties, nor were you floating aimlessly through the fog of disconnection.

Instead, you felt anchored, grounded in a reality that was steady and secure. It was as if the storm inside you had paused, and the world had stopped spinning just long enough for you to catch your breath. In that moment, you were fully present, aware of yourself and your surroundings in a way that made everything else fade into the background. The weight that usually pressed so heavily on your chest lifted, and for that brief period, you were able to stand tall and feel the earth beneath you, firm and unwavering.

It didn’t last long – those moments of clarity and peace never did. They slipped away as quickly as they came, like sand through your fingers, leaving you once again adrift in the chaos of your thoughts. The sense of calm and stability that you craved was always fleeting, a temporary reprieve that left you yearning for more. But in the aftermath, when the world once again became overwhelming and your mind descended back into the chaos there was one thing that lingered: the small, neat red lines.

These lines were the only reminder of that brief lucidity, etched into your skin like a secret code that only you could understand. They were delicate but precise, almost methodical in their appearance, as if each one was a calculated attempt to bring some order to the chaos within.

The red lines were your way of marking time, of grounding yourself in a reality that often felt too slippery to hold onto. In those moments when clarity slipped away, when you were once again floating or drowning, they were there to remind you that, for just a moment, you had found your footing. The pain they brought was real, sharp, and immediate – something that could cut through the numbness and confusion, anchoring you back to the present.

It hadn’t always been like this. There was a time when life was simpler, when the world seemed brighter and full of possibilities. Your dad used to tell you stories of when you were just a baby, how you were the very picture of happiness –  all gummy smiles and infectious giggles that could light up a room. He would describe how your laughter was so pure, so full of joy, that it could make even the grumpiest person smile. In his eyes, you were a little bundle of sunshine, radiating warmth and love wherever you went.

You often wondered what happened to that little girl, the one who seemed to find joy so easily in everything around her. Where did she go? What changed between those carefree days and now, when the world feels so heavy and your heart so burdened? You tried to remember the last time you felt that kind of unrestrained happiness, but the memories were hazy, like trying to recall a dream that had long since faded.

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when things started to shift, when the lightness began to slip away, replaced by something much darker. Maybe it was a gradual process, so slow and subtle that you didn’t notice it happening until one day you woke up and realised that the little girl who used to laugh so easily was gone. Or maybe it was something more abrupt, a single event that changed everything, though you couldn’t quite remember what it might have been.

There were times when you’d catch a glimpse of her, that little girl, in the mirror – perhaps in a fleeting smile or a brief moment of joy – but she was always just out of reach, like a shadow that vanished as soon as you tried to hold onto it. The happiness that once came so naturally now felt like a distant memory, something that belonged to a different time, a different version of yourself.

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss, a mourning for the person you used to be, for the life you used to live. What had happened to that carefree spirit, the one who saw the world as a place of wonder and possibility? Where did all those smiles and giggles go, replaced by the weight of anxiety and the burden of unspoken sadness?

You wished you could find your way back to her, to that little girl who knew how to be happy without even trying. But the path seemed unclear, the way forward uncertain, and all you were left with were the memories of who you used to be and the quiet hope that maybe, someday, you might rediscover that lost joy.

Ingrid had sensed that something was off the very first time she met you. It was as if she could see right through the façade you were trying so hard to maintain. You were just 17 at the time, still so young, yet there was something about the way you carried yourself that spoke of a weariness far beyond your years. Most teenagers were full of restless energy, eager to explore the world and discover who they were, but you – there was a heaviness in your eyes, a kind of fatigue that no child should ever have to bear.

When you stood before her, Ingrid could see that the weight of the world was already pressing down on your shoulders. It was in the way you held yourself, as if every movement took a conscious effort, every step a deliberate act to keep from being overwhelmed by the burden you carried. You tried to smile, to present yourself as just another teenager navigating the usual challenges of adolescence, but even your smile seemed strained, like it was something you had to force rather than something that came naturally.

Ingrid noticed how you seemed to shrink into yourself, as if trying to make yourself smaller, less noticeable, perhaps in the hope that the world might go easier on you if you took up less space. But it was impossible to ignore the sadness that lingered behind your eyes, a sadness that seemed to have settled there long before its time. It was as if you had lived through experiences that had aged you in ways that others your age couldn’t begin to understand.

There was an unspoken tension in the way you interacted with others, a hesitation that suggested you had learned to guard yourself carefully. Ingrid could tell that you were wary of letting anyone get too close, as if you were afraid that if someone saw too much, they might unravel the carefully constructed image you were trying so desperately to hold together. It was a kind of self-protection, a shield you had built to keep the world at arm’s length, but Ingrid could see through it.

She saw the exhaustion etched into your posture, the way your shoulders slumped ever so slightly, as if the weight you carried was too much to bear alone. And though you were still just a teenager, still supposed to be discovering the joys and freedoms of youth, there was an undeniable gravity about you, a maturity born out of hardship that no one your age should have had to endure.

She had gone straight to Mapí, her heart heavy with worry and a sense of urgency she couldn’t ignore. Mapí had always been her anchor, the one person she could turn to when everything else seemed to be spiralling out of control. There was a comfort in Mapí’s presence, a kind of steady reassurance that made the world feel a little less chaotic. And in that moment, when she felt like she was drowning in her own thoughts, there was no one else she could think of who could help her make sense of it all.

As she approached Mapí, she could see the girl was already watching her, those perceptive eyes filled with a quiet understanding. Mapí had always been like that – intuitive, almost as if she could sense when something was wrong without a single word being spoken. It was as if she could read the unspoken emotions, the things that others overlooked or dismissed, and she knew just how to respond without being told.

“I’m worried about her,” Ingrid said quietly to Mapí, her voice tinged with concern as she gestured with her head in your direction. There was a seriousness in her tone that caught Mapí’s attention immediately. Ingrid wasn’t one to express worry lightly; if she was concerned, it meant something was truly wrong.

“Who?” Mapí asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she tried to follow Ingrid’s line of sight. She turned to see who Ingrid was referring to, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on you.

“Den lille,” Ingrid replied softly. It was a name that fit you perfectly, even though you were no longer a small child. To Ingrid, you would always be den lille, the one who needed looking after, the one she couldn’t help but worry about.

Mapí’s gaze lingered on you, taking in the way you sat off to the side, your shoulders hunched slightly as if you were trying to make yourself invisible. She saw the way your fingers absentmindedly traced the edges of your shorts, a nervous habit she had noticed before but never truly understood until now. There was something about your posture, the way you seemed so withdrawn, that tugged at her heart. You looked like you were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and it didn’t sit right with Mapí.

“She’s been different lately,” Ingrid continued, her voice barely above a whisper, as if saying the words out loud would somehow make them more real. “I’m scared, María.”

Mapí’s heart ached at Ingrid’s words. The concern in Ingrid’s voice was palpable, a stark contrast to the usual composed and confident demeanour she typically displayed. The way Ingrid had hesitated before speaking, the trembling edge to her voice, suggested that this was more than just a fleeting worry – it was a deep, gnawing fear that had taken root in her heart.

Mapí turned her full attention to you, her eyes softening. There was an undeniable shift in your demeanour that had been building over time, and it was clear now that Ingrid’s fears were not unfounded. The way you sat, so isolated and withdrawn, seemed like a cry for help that was too quiet to be heard. Mapí could feel the gravity of the situation pressing down on her, the realisation that something needed to be done before it was too late.

“Ale will know what to do,” Mapí said with false bravado, trying to mask the tremor in her voice behind a veneer of confidence. Her words were meant to reassure Ingrid, to offer a glimmer of hope amidst the growing uncertainty, but inside, she felt a pang of doubt.

Mapí had always relied on Alexia’s wisdom and experience, believing her to be someone who could handle even the most complex of situations with ease. She had a way of approaching problems with calm assurance and a strategic mindset that often brought clarity and solutions where there seemed to be none. Mapí hoped that, with Alexia’s involvement, they could find a way to help you navigate the turmoil you were experiencing.

She knew, however, that this situation was different. The weight of it felt heavier, more personal. Her usually steadfast confidence was being tested, and despite her efforts to maintain a brave front, she couldn’t completely suppress the anxiety that gnawed at her.

Ingrid glanced at Mapí, a mixture of hope and scepticism in her eyes. “You really think so?” she asked, her voice laced with both trust and apprehension.

“Absolutely,” Mapí replied, her tone firm despite the fluttering unease in her chest.

Alexia had noticed the changes in you too, though her observations were more subtle, filtered through a lens of quiet concern rather than overt worry. She had seen you through different stages of life, from the carefree moments of adolescence to the more introspective phases, but lately, something had shifted, and she couldn’t ignore the signs any longer.

It was in the way you interacted with others, or rather, how you had started to withdraw from those interactions. Alexia, who had always admired your vibrant energy and effortless charm, now saw you retreating into yourself. The once bright and engaging conversations seemed to dwindle, replaced by a more subdued presence that she struggled to reconcile with the person she once knew.

She noticed how you would often linger on the periphery of group activities, participating only half-heartedly, if at all. Your laughter, which used to come so easily, had become rare and forced, a stark contrast to the genuine joy that used to light up your face. Even your physical appearance had changed; where there was once a confident posture, there was now a noticeable slouch, a sign of the weight you seemed to be carrying.

Alexia also observed the small, telling habits that had shifted. The way you fidgeted with your clothes or avoided eye contact during conversations spoke volumes about your internal struggle. It was as if you were trying to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible, a stark departure from the once lively and assertive person she had known.

“Ale, we need to talk,” Mapí said firmly, cornering Alexia in the changing rooms after training one afternoon. Her voice was low and serious, carrying an undertone of urgency that instantly drew Alexia’s full attention. The usual post-training chatter and the clamor of lockers being shut were fading into the background as the gravity of Mapí’s tone cut through the noise.

“Is everything okay?” Alexia asked, her voice betraying a hint of concern as she met Mapí’s gaze. The look in Mapí’s eyes was one Alexia hadn’t seen very often – an earnestness and resolve that spoke of something deeper than just a casual chat. The air between them seemed to thicken with unspoken tension, the room suddenly feeling smaller, more confined as the weight of the conversation settled in.

“No, it’s not,” Ingrid replied, her tone steady but laden with emotion.

Three sets of eyes turned to look at you, the subject of their concern. You sat on a bench, somewhat apart from the group, absorbed in your own thoughts, unaware of the intensity of the discussion unfolding just a few feet away. The distance between you and the others was more than physical; it was as though a chasm had opened up, underscoring the emotional divide that had grown.

You looked so tired. It was a weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion, a heaviness that seemed to seep into your very bones. The vibrant energy that once defined you had dimmed, leaving behind a shadow of your former self.

Your eyes, which used to sparkle with curiosity and joy, were now clouded with a fatigue that spoke volumes about the battles you were fighting internally. They were deep and dark, the kind of tiredness that comes from sleepless nights and unspoken worries. The once bright and animated expression you wore had given way to a distant gaze that struggled to focus on the world around you. When you did look up, it was with a slow, measured effort, as if the simple act of meeting someone’s eyes required more energy than you had to spare. Your gaze seemed to drift in and out of focus, mirroring the exhaustion that you felt but could not escape.

Your training top seemed far too big on you now, the fabric hanging off you like a draped shroud. It was as if the clothes themselves reflected the way you had withdrawn from the world; they looked oversized and loose, emphasising the contrast between your current state and the vibrant person you used to be.

Every small movement you made seemed laboured, as though even the simplest actions required a tremendous amount of effort. Your shoulders slouched slightly, as if weighed down by an invisible burden that made every step feel heavier. The casual confidence that once characterised your movements had been replaced by a tentative, almost cautious mannerism, as though you were trying to conserve every ounce of energy you had.

Your breathing was steady but shallow, and every now and then, you let out a sigh that seemed to escape from somewhere deep inside you – a sigh that spoke of exhaustion and resignation. The small, subtle gestures you made, like tucking your hands into your sleeves or curling your legs up on the bench, were instinctive attempts to find some semblance of comfort or protection in a moment where you felt particularly vulnerable.

“Oh, cariño,” Alexia whispered, her heart breaking at the sight of you. The term of endearment slipped from her lips like a soft breath of sorrow, laden with a depth of feeling that words alone could not fully convey. It was a tender utterance meant to bridge the emotional chasm that seemed to separate you from everyone around you.

As Alexia watched you, her eyes were filled with a deep sadness that mirrored the gravity of the moment. The sight of you, sitting apart from the group, lost in your own thoughts, was more than Alexia could bear. Her heart ached as she took in the full extent of your weariness. It was clear that this was not just a fleeting moment of fatigue but a profound, ongoing struggle that had seeped into your very being. The vibrant spirit she once knew seemed overshadowed by a deep, unspoken sorrow that had taken hold.

You weren’t sure why you phoned Ona, out of all people. It wasn’t like you were particularly close with her; in fact, your interactions with her had always been somewhat limited and casual. You knew her mostly through mutual friends and shared activities, exchanging pleasantries and brief conversations but never delving deeply into each other's lives. Yes, you considered her a friend, but your one-on-one time had been minimal, mostly restricted to group settings or casual encounters. She wasn’t someone you confided in regularly, nor did you have a history of sharing personal struggles or intimate details.

Yet, in the midst of your crisis, when everything felt out of control and the world seemed to have narrowed to the confines of your bathroom floor, Ona’s name was the first to come to mind. You sat there, the cold tiles pressing against your legs, a razor gripped tightly in one hand, its cold edge a stark reminder of the darkness you were grappling with. Your thoughts were a swirling mix of desperation and confusion, and in that chaotic mental fog, Ona’s name emerged almost instinctively.

It was an odd choice, and you struggled to understand it yourself. Perhaps it was the nature of your relationship with her – though not deeply personal, it was still a connection that felt solid enough to offer some semblance of support. Sometimes, the familiarity of a person, even if not deeply entrenched, can provide a sense of comfort in moments of profound vulnerability. Ona had always been approachable and kind, traits that, despite the limited interaction, might have seemed reassuring in your current state.

There was also something to be said for the randomness of human emotion and instinct. In moments of deep distress, the mind often grasps at whatever feels familiar, even if it’s not the most logical choice. Ona, being someone who had always been friendly and supportive, perhaps embodied a sense of stability and kindness that was desperately needed in that moment.

“Hola?” Her voice came through the phone, laden with sleep, thick with the grogginess of having been abruptly roused from slumber. There was a softness to her tone, a slow, drowsy lilt that spoke of the deep relaxation she had been in just moments before. The initial, half-hearted curiosity in her voice quickly sharpened into something more alert as she processed the unusual hour and the unexpected call.

“I …” You began, but the words caught in your throat, tangled with the overwhelming emotions that had gripped you. Your voice trembled, barely more than a whisper, laden with a mixture of vulnerability and desperation. It was as if the sheer effort of making the call had drained you, leaving only a fragile thread of sound that barely carried your intent.

“Pequeña?” Ona’s voice was suddenly more awake, filled with concern. The fragility in your voice, so unlike the casual exchanges you had shared before, pierced through her initial drowsiness. The realisation that something was seriously wrong caused her to sit upright in bed, the sense of alarm and urgency pushing away the remnants of sleep.

“Help me,” you managed to utter, the words escaping in a pained whisper

You woke up in hospital. The room cold and sterile. The first thing you noticed was the biting chill that seemed to seep into your very bones, despite the layers of blankets draped over you. The air felt thin and clinical – you had never known such an impersonal space existed. The walls were a clinical shade of white, interrupted only by the occasional piece of medical equipment or the sparse, functional décor meant to provide minimal distraction. The lighting was bright and unyielding, casting a harsh glare that made the room feel even colder and more impersonal. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed softly, their steady hum creating a rhythm that seemed oddly out of place.

Your bed, positioned at the centre of the room, was surrounded by a fortress of medical paraphernalia. An IV drip hung beside you, its clear fluids slowly trickling down a tube that was taped to your arm. The beeping of a heart monitor provided a steady, monotonous cadence, a reminder of the life support systems that were now a part of your immediate environment. The rhythmic sound was oddly comforting and unnerving all at once, a constant reminder of your current state and the care being provided.

The air was filled with a faint, antiseptic scent – a mix of cleaning agents and medicinal odours that seemed to hang in the atmosphere like an unwelcome guest. It was a smell that clung to everything, from the freshly laundered hospital sheets to the disposable gowns and sterile gloves that the medical staff wore.

There was a warm weight in your right hand. It took you a moment to realise what it was. A hand. A hand connected to an arm, that led to a shoulder, that was attached to a whole person. The fingers resting gently in your grasp were familiar and comforting, their gentle pressure offering a steady reassurance. You turned your head slightly, and through the haze of your groggy state, you saw the face of the person whose hand you were holding.

“Hi,” Ona smiled softly, her expression a blend of warmth and reassurance.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a weak echo of her greeting, laden with the exhaustion and vulnerability you felt. Your gaze drifted to the hand still resting in yours. She followed your stare, squeezing gently when she realised what you were looking at.

 “The others have got to get food,” Ona continued, her voice gentle but firm. “It’s just us, if you want to talk.”

“What’s there to talk about?” you countered, the words a defense mechanism. If you denied it, it would all go away.

“Do not play dumb, pequeña.” Ona’s voice carried a note of gentle reproach. Her tone was soft but resolute.

“I …” you began, but the words seemed to falter before they could take shape. The enormity of your emotions was difficult to articulate, and the effort to speak felt almost insurmountable. You struggled to find the right words, your thoughts jumbled and disjointed.

But how could she truly understand? What little you knew about her life seemed almost painfully perfect by comparison. From the outside, Ona’s existence appeared to be a seamless tapestry of success and happiness. Her football career was thriving, each game a testament to her skill and dedication. She was admired and celebrated by teammates and fans alike, her talent on the field a source of pride and achievement.

Her relationship was also the stuff of dreams. Ona had Lucy, someone who seemed to bring out the best in her, their interactions marked by genuine affection and mutual support. They were often seen together, sharing moments of joy and laughter that spoke of a deep and abiding connection. Their bond was one of those rare partnerships that seemed to transcend the everyday challenges, offering a glimpse into a love that was both passionate and enduring.

Her circle of friends appeared to be equally ideal. They were supportive and loyal, always there for one another through thick and thin. The camaraderie and warmth of their friendship were evident in the way they interacted, their shared moments of happiness and mutual encouragement. It was a friendship that seemed to offer a solid foundation, a network of support that was both comforting and reliable.

And then there was her family – an image of stability and happiness. They were often seen together, their interactions filled with laughter and love. The family dynamic seemed to be one of mutual respect and genuine affection, a supportive backdrop to Ona’s life that added to the picture of her seemingly perfect existence.

In contrast, your own life felt chaotic and fraught with difficulties. The weight of your struggles seemed all the more daunting when juxtaposed against Ona’s polished image. It was easy to feel that her understanding of your pain was limited, that the perfection you saw in her life might somehow preclude her from fully grasping the depth of your own challenges. You wondered if her empathy was genuine or if it was simply a reflection of her innate kindness, an attempt to reach across the chasm of your differences and offer comfort despite the apparent disparity between your lives.

“If you don’t want to talk yet, that’s fine. But let me show you something.” She pushed up her sleeve.

C O N T ; N U E

“You’re not alone in this, pequeña. No one is ever alone.” Ona’s voice was steady, a soft but firm anchor amidst the storm. She shifted slightly, her fingers gently tracing over a tattoo on her arm. “I got this just after I moved to England,” she began, her tone becoming more reflective. “I felt so alone. I didn’t speak the language very well, I had no friends, and we were in lockdown. Everything was different.” Her gaze softened as she looked at the tattoo, her fingers moving lightly over its surface, as if the act itself was a form of remembering and honouring a past struggle.

The room seemed to grow quieter, the beeping of the monitors and the distant murmur of the hospital blending into a background hum as Ona continued. “I almost did it, y’know. I was really, really close – had the bottle and everything.” Her voice wavered slightly, a rare crack in the veneer of her composed exterior. “I haven’t even told Lucy this.” She laughed humourlessly.

“Why didn’t you?” you asked, the question hanging in the air.

Ona took a deep breath, her eyes meeting yours as she smiled gently. “Alessia knocked on my door. She noticed I looked a little down and came to check on me. I don’t know if she saw the pills or not, but she stayed with me all day.” The warmth in her eyes deepened as she spoke. “She asked me to teach her some Spanish, she taught me how to make pasta from scratch. She didn’t let me leave her side for three days. Even then, as soon as she left Tooney appeared.”

“Wh-why are you telling me this?” Your voice quivered, the words struggling to get out over the lump in your throat.

Ona’s eyes softened with a blend of compassion and determination. “So that you know you’re not alone,” she began, her voice steady and full of quiet resolve. “I don’t know the ins and outs of what you’re going through, but just know that I’m here, we all are. We aren’t going anywhere.” She promised.

She paused, allowing her words to settle, as if to let the depth of her meaning fully resonate. You blinked, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm you. Tears began to well up in your eyes. The tears were a mixture of relief and sadness.

“You are loved, pequeña. So, so loved. And we will be here for you, no matter what, no matter how long it takes.”

[sunrisesfromthewest]

First Encounter Part 6

Warning:Marcus still on💯,Rated R language here and there🤬,Taking Birth Control💊(It’s for the plot don’t start blowing up my comment section,I got y’all 😭)in and out of readers pov,you’ll understand once you start reading📖

Previous Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6

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

Entering your bedroom your eyes peer around every surface, searching for your black furry baby." Midnight, baby where are you!" you said wondering where he could’ve gone, while you were......handling business in the shower. 

 After scavenging through your bed sheets and closet you place your hands on your hips, letting out a huff in frustration. 

 Crossing your arms, you look back at Armando, who is just now exiting the bathroom, towel still wrapped low on his hips, bringing out his v-line. Shaking your head you look away asking him what he did with your baby. "Promise me you want get mad, princess.” he said scratching the back of his head with a hesitant expression. 

Eyes twitching you reply, "The fuck you do with my baby." Before you could drill in on him, he walks over and grabs your hands attempting to calm you down. "He's okay, he started meowing loud, so I assumed he was hungry." Relaxing a bit, you remove your hands from his and make your way towards the kitchen anxiously. 

“For your sake, he better be fine!” you said, walking to his bowl, but stopping at the sight before you, mouth dropping open. "He's fine,Y/N all I did was give it a little foo-” pausing mid-sentence, Armando lets out a surprise laugh, at the sight before him. 

Your poor baby peaked up at you two, little face saturated, in what looked like milk or tuna. Watching as he returns back to eating his food, Armando says, "See princess, I told you he was okay.” 

Turning to give Armando a glare, you point down at your baby, "Does he look okay to you!" As if on cue, Midnight lays down beside his bowl, looking as high as a kite, little belly full to compacity. Bursting out in laughter, all Armando could do was smile at the scene before him. 

 "Since you think it’s so Goddamn funny, you clean it up!” you say smacking his arm, while making your way back to the room to get dressed. Hearing him laugh louder only caused you to smack your lips, in disbelief. 

With Armando in the kitchen cleaning up the mess he caused, you began to moisturize your body, knowing that you'll become ashy without it. Throwing on the clothes you set out, you make your way over to the restroom, to pick up, y'all discarded clothes. 

After putting the clothes in a dirty hamper, you looked around in the small shelf above it, in search of your birth control. "I need to make sure, I don’t bring, no baby into this messy situation." you mumble to yourself. Spotting the box, you examined it to make sure, the pills haven’t expired. 

 Shrugging when you see that it’s only, a few weeks passed the expiration date, you take one, mentally making a note to by a fresh box. Exiting the bathroom you see, Armando chilling on your bed, with your now clean baby, who looked like it was in a food coma. Chuckling to yourself, as you walked over to your dresser, you say, "Remind me to never leave you, in charge of my baby ever again.” 

As you pulled out clothes for Armando he laughs,” Yeah, I think that would be smart to do,”he said grabbing the shirt and sweats you set on the bed. Slipping on the clothes you gave him, he asked, "Hey, where did you put those pair of pants, I had on?" Raising your eyebrows, you point to the restroom saying, it in the dirty hamper. As Armando walks over to the bathroom, you head to the living room in search of your phone. 

After finding it, your eyes widen by all the messages popping up on the screen, some from Kelly and Dorn, but majority are from your father. Looking at the most recent text your dad sent, you gasped covering your mouth. 

Y/N, BABY PLEASE DON’T GIVE ME NO LOWREY GRANDBABIES, I DON’T THINK I CAN SURVIVE THREE OF THEM!!!!!   

Sent at 8:15 pm from Candy Killer 🍭🍴🍭

*Buzz*

GIRL, DIDN’T I TELL YOU TO NOT GET INVOLVE WITH HIM!    

Has it been that long since Rafe!?! 

Sent at 8:16pm from Sleeping Beauty 👸🏻👸🏻👸🏻

*Buzz*

Scratch what I said earlier this is the fastest I EVER seen you, give in for some dick.........I’m taking you to my therapist immediately!!!!!!!!!!!!   

Sent at 8:18pm from Prince Charming🫅🏼🫅🏼🫅🏼

Turning your phone off of silent mode,you watch as a text pop up from Mike, almost making you drop your phone. 

*Ding*

BRING YALL NASTY ASSSESS BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!!!!  

Sent at 8:20 pm from Money Mike 💸💸💸💸

Quickly making your way back to the room, you grabbed your duffel bag and picked up your baby while, yelling for Armando. 

Hearing the small commotion Armando walks back into your bedroom, picture from earlier placed in his pocket as he looked at your nervous expression. "What's going on? "He says lost by your sudden urgency to leave.  

Not saying anything you just passed Armando your phone, while making your way to the door, trailing behind you he stares at the phone with amusement as he reads some of the messages popping up. “This is what got you all frantic, Y/N and What’s up with these contact names?” he said smirking as he sees you turn around with a bewilder look.  

"The Caller Id names should be the least of your worries.You haven’t been around my father long enough to see him, freak out. One time he thought Mike was sleeping with my mom during a case, where they had to switch identities and he flipped the fuck out.... Climbing all on the house and shit......peeking through windows......and breaking the pool we had at the time.”

 Pausing at the door to catch your breath you give Armando a serious look, "I know you probably seen some crazy things, since you used to be in the Cartel but seeing the Marcus Burnett freak the fuck out is a whole level of craziness......especially when he finds out that you had sex with his daughter.”

Grabbing your keys, you make your way to the elevator lowkey scared of what’s to come, closing and locking your door Armando follows after you, eyebrows screwed in thought. 

“Hey, it takes two to tango, princess and plus like you said I’ve seen and done some crazy shit in my life so far. I think I can handle your dad throwing a tantrum about his precious little girl” he said sarcastically. 

“Okay, I tried to warn you." shrugging you enter the elevator pressing the floor level button. Following behind you Armando enters as well back leaning against the elevator wall, in thought. 

“He’s not gonna freak out that bad, is he?” he said becoming concern from your earlier response. 

Getting no reply from you, had his mind racing, with worry and anxiety.  

________________________________________________________________________________ 

After sending you another text of disappoint, Kelly throws a look to Dorn who seems to be doing the same things, but with a childish smirk. 

Right before she could walk over to scold him, for whatever dumb thing he sent you, she is grabbed by Marcus, who is still freaking out. 

Holding Kelly captive Marcus continue to sputter nonsense, which only left Kelly more discombobulated. Viewing the scene before him made Mike irritated and annoyed at his partner behavior.  

Fed up he walks over breaking the hold he had on Kelly, (which she greatly appreciates), pointing at Marcus, Mike says "Enough with the Bullshit!” 

“NO! Mike, you don’t understand...Y/N...my baby girl.... has actually gotten with a ‘Bad boy’ and the worst part is he’s your son. It’s Deja vu,all over again, first my little sister, now this......WHAT THE FUCK IS IN THAT LOWREY BLOOD! " Marcus says crying against Mike arm becoming hysterical. 

Rolling his already stressed filled eyes, all Mike does is pat his back, while saying with a smirk, "Most be some good shit since, you Burnetts can’t keep away from us.” 

Pulling away from Mikes embrace Marcus glares at him, "The fuck is that supposed to mean, “pausing Marcus throws his hands up in surrender, "You know what Mike don’t answer it.... I need to pray these evil spirits away.” 

“You know what Marcus,go do that, I'll be outside, creating a plan to get my wife back. Who should be my priority right now, not your whining ass!" tired of dealing with his tantrum Mike walks back outside, with Dorn and Kelly quickly leaving with him as well. 

__________________________________________________________________________________ 

Pulling up beside the AMMO van, you sigh as you put the car in park, nerves starting to get the best of you. Eyes peering over to Armando, you see him staring through the window in thought, probably thinking about what’s to come. 

Reaching across the console you grab his hand giving it a soft squeeze, "Penny for your thoughts?" Hearing him release a chuckle, he looks up at you smiling slightly, "Don't play you already know, what I’m thinking about baby," pausing he looks at you with unease before saying, "Is your dad really gonna wig out over this?” 

Watching his face turn into unease almost made you laugh, but you kept it in, "In all honestly, yes......but he’s probably going to go off on me, more than you." Seeing him visibly relax at your words made, you laugh, as you turned the car off. 

Getting out the car you said, "Just in case though, I would probably hide behind me or your dad!" Leaving from the car as well Armando face screws up, in confusion, "But you just said he’ll attack you more than me!” 

Shaking your head you smile widely, "I did but if you haven’t noticed by now, he likes to go after the biggest opponent!” Pausing to pick up Midnight and your duffel bag, you look up to see that Armando has moved to your side of the car, hand grabbing the bag from you, swinging it over his right shoulder. 

“And in this moment, it's you.” you say making your way over to the others who are talking on the dock. Armando stood there thinking about what you just said, but snapping out of it when you start walking away. Following behind you Armandos face falls back to its usual nonchalant look, as you walk up to the group. 

Dorn is the first to see you guys approaching, but before he could say anything Mike cuts in "Glad to see y’all horny assess made it back!" eyes run over y’all bodies picking up, on the change of clothes, but once he looks at your neck, he shakes his head in disbelief.  

“I could care less if you guys fool around but y’all couldn’t wait until after we rescued my wife.......MATTER FACT.......HELL YOU JUST MET TODAY!!!!” All you could do was nod your head in shame, while listening to Mike rant, although you don’t regret what you did, you could’ve chosen a different time. 

As you open your mouth to apologize, Mike silence you with a look, "I don’t want to hear a half as apology Y/N, all I want from you right now is to go deal with your dramatic ass Daddy.......he been giving me a headache since y'all left.” 

Biting your lip so you wouldn’t laugh, you send Armando a small smile, as you make your way towards the house. Brown eyes following your retreating figure, he hears his father clearing his throat, causing him to looking back at the group.

He notices everyone staring him down with they’re arms crossed, even Lockwood traitorous ass, was looking at him sideways. 

Sensing his son getting annoyed by the different looks he was receiving , Mike pulls Armando aside to have a little ‘talk' with him.

___________________________________________________________________________________ 

Walking into the house you see your father sitting on the couch, with his eyes closed. Confused you close the door silently behind you, while cautiously making your way towards him. Opening his eyes Marcus, stares you down as you sit there in silence, obviously waiting for him to say something. 

“Y/N.” your father says calmly while watching you hold Midnight against your chest.

Observing him as his gaze shift up to your heavily marked neck, you hesitantly whisper yes, waiting for your fathers response. "Did you at least use protection?” he says eyes still staring hard at your neck, biting your lip, you shake your head no, shifting slightly as you wait for his reaction anxiously. 

Nodding his head, he places his hands together eyes no longer gazing at your neck angrily, as he bounces his right leg against the floor. 

“I took a birth control pill tho,so you don’t have to worry about no LOWREY grandbabies." you said letting out a laugh, but clearing your throat instead when he gives you a blank look.”Y/N....you my youngest daughter and I love you......but do you truly believe......and I mean......TRULY believe.... that a damn pill stands a chance against LOWREY DNA!!!” 

Shocked by his words you say, "What?” 

Shaking his head in disappointment he says, "I don’t know who ass to beat....... yours or the future father of my unborn grandchild!”  

Tired of your father antics, you smack his arm to get his attention, "The ONLY grandbaby you getting from me, is right hear against my chest...stop worrying yourself to death. And last I checked Daddy I'm a grown woman,you can’t go around whooping my ass,when I do something, you disagree with.” 

Snapping his head up to you he stands up, pointing down at your stomach, "That baby just saved your life cuz who the hell you think you talking to like that,Y/N!” 

Rolling your eyes in frustration, you sat Midnight down as you stand up and yell, "For the last time I’m NOT PREGNANT WITH A LOWREY BABY and I’m talking to you!” 

Watching your father head look around the room, before pointing at himself he says, "That disrespect most come from your momma side of the family,cuz I’ll be DAMN,if I sit here and tolerate it. Fine your ass not pregnant, I'll take your word for it but the minute and I mean the second I start dreaming about some Damn FISH! I’m whooping somebodies ASS!” 

Laughing at your father foolishness, you say, "Okay, fine I fucked up tonight but can’t you discipline me another time, Christine needs are help right now, and Mike needs his partner, not a concerned father.” 

Giving your father a smile, you watch as he stares at you in thought, before rolling his eyes, "Yeah, we can drop it for now......besides I already forgiven you.” Pausing you analyze his body language, knowing that he usually doesn’t just forgive people so easily,especially when it comes to a situation like this. 

Widening your eyes, you make your way over to your purse that you left there, mouth dropping once you couldn’t find what you were looking for, eyes tearing up, you return your gaze to his not so regretful ones, 

"YOU ATE MY SKITTLES!” 

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

Authors Note:Sorry it took so long to post part 6,I’ve been receiving a few message about the Spanish translations for Armando’s dialogue,in previous chapters.And Y’all Google did me Dirty,but the problem is fixed now😭😭😭,thank y’all for letting me know.I’ll stick to writing his parts in English for now on😂.

I ain’t gonna lie y’all this chapter is more like an appetizer instead of a meal.Stay tuned for part 7,tho💖💖💖

⬇️Also,this how our baby,was looking in that Kitchen😭and RIP SKITTLES you didn’t stand a chance😔😔😔

[perenial]

What are good books about explorers, if I may ask? I'd love to get into some harrowing survival (or just trying to survive) stories.

HI ok these are all heroic age antarctica-centric bc that's all i've had rattling around in my brain for a solid year and a half now so if anyone has non-polar recs pls feel free to throw em in the replies lmao

if we're talking harrowing survival there's nothing more fucked than shackleton's trans-imperial expedition aka endurance and the ross sea party. the classic here is endurance by alfred lansing (and ofc south by ol ernie shackles but i feel like his own account is less approachable to a first time reader) but i also highly recommend the lost men by kelly tyler-lewis for the ross sea party half of the story that often falls to the wayside.

and we can't talk abt shackleton without getting into scott & the terra nova & the race for the pole which WILL take over ur life if u get into it lol. the worst journey in the world by apsley cherry-garrard is required reading (and so is cherry by sara wheeler, possibly my fave biography of all time), and for a more general overview a first-rate tragedy by diana preston is the absolute gold standard. for amundsen ask @roaldamundsen there's the last viking by stephen r. brown which i haven't read yet but i've heard v good things about (nb: u may be recommended roland huntford's books when it comes to amundsen. read them if u want but he's got a Thing against scott which in turn distorts how he approaches amundsen but then again every polar biographer wants to make tender romantic love to their special little guy so)

OH and we can't forget the northern party aka six guys in a hole (NOT sexy) (well–). there are banger first-hand accounts (especially raymond priestley's) but weirdly enough my fave when it comes to this part of the terra nova story is a polar affair by lloyd spencer-davis, which is technically abt the sex lives of adélie penguins. it was the first book i read connected to terra nova and although it leans more popular history than rigorous biography or historical analysis it rly primes u to understand the fricative relationship between the expedition's two intertwined objectives – scientific advancement and imperialist glory – that were the root of most of their issues.

outside of endurance & terra nova i'd be remiss not to rec The gateway book to antarctic history, the madhouse at the end of the earth by julian sancton. i should have put this first bc this is genuinely one of my fave books of all time, polar-related or otherwise. it's a comedy it's a tragedy it's an adventure it's an insight into colonial ambition (although imo this aspect could have been pushed further) it's a romance for two specific guys it could easily be a musical it might be adapted into a tv show or movie in the near future?? it's an absolute trip i rec it to anyone who stands still enough to let me shove a copy in their hands. read madhouse NOW

finally i want to give a shout out to the australasian antarctic expedition which in comparison is less insane than everything else here but it's entirely possible the guy who was once on the australian $100 note ate his dog handler. so like. read alone on the ice by david roberts

(ps. for more boat books see @jesslovesboats's banger posts ✌️⛵️)

[empresskadia]

Fractured [Master Chief | John-117]

I seriously can't stop thinking about this man, ugh, he deserves the world. I didn't know what to write, so this happened. I have John's Gentle Touches chapter kinda planned out but it's gonna be a hot minute before it gets written and posted.

Post Halo: Escalation

It was one thing to be ordered to take R&R and another to get dragged away for it, or rather, as close to R&R as one could get on a massive ship. John was sure that Kelly was going to tease him as soon as he saw her next, but he couldn't tell you no. Not when he was glad to see you alive and unhurt.

That, maybe, he didn't fail you like he did Cortana.

It was after the third mission since he had reassigned Blue team that he noticed the UNSC Infinity had added to her crew, more specifically when you had marched right into the hanger, hands placed on your hip and Kelly let out a low whistle. "Someone's in trouble." She had teased that made Linda give a short snort as they passed by.

Though it was Fred who placed a hand on your shoulder. "He's all yours, [Y/n]." The Spartan patted your shoulder gently, the request in the movement evident. 'Take care of John.' and your small nod was answer enough.

Your brow raised as the green armor approached, he was glad, no, happy to see you again. This felt like the one thing that didn't seem to have gone wrong, but it had been four years since he had last seen you. Maybe everything between you two had changed.

"Hello, John." You said with that soft smile you always give him.

Or maybe it hadn't. 

The Master Chief simply nodded in acknowledgement; he wasn't sure what to say. Where to start? The loss of Cortana was still too fresh and if he was being honest with himself, a part of him hadn't tried to find you as soon as possible. Perhaps it was the fear that you would see him differently now.

He had failed.

His thoughts were circling when he felt two taps on his chest plate. "Come back to me John. I can hear your thoughts running from a mile away."

"I-I lost her," He admitted.

You were quiet for a moment staring into his visor like you could see him through the helmet, a sad smile tugged on your lips, "I know. I'm sorry." You really were. Cortana had been your friend, one who would tease John with you, one who would help you with your projects and have late night chats with you in the lab, one who always kept you up to date on John's missions regardless of if she was supposed to or not.

"She told me to tell you goodbye. And thank you-"

"And to take care of you?" You guessed, cutting him off before you tapped his chest armor again, the clink vibrating through the air. "Let's get you out of this. I wanna see you, John." And he couldn't tell you no, whether or not he wanted to take off the armor.

He complied.

He could do orders.

He could share this loss with you.

And while he laid in your arms, out of his armor, in the silent room that was broken by your humming, your fingers slowly dancing across his bare back, John almost felt like he was home, like he could survive this loss. His arms were wrapped around your waist, his face pressed against your stomach as your nails continued their movements, gently caressing over the pattern of scars as if you were rememorizing the old ones and studying the newer imperfections. "I missed you," you whispered as your lips pressed against his shoulder, right onto a scar he received from the Didact like you knew where it had come from.  The confession was so quiet that you took in a steady breath as if you were grounding your feelings. "I thought you were gone." He could hear the small quiver in your voice.

John lifted his head a fraction, his eyes meeting yours in a silent understanding. He had missed you and feared the worst. As he looked into your eyes, he understood your fears, a mirror image of his own. The thought of losing you, of facing the galaxy without your presence, was a fear he couldn't bear to confront. John's arms tightened around your waist, not enough to hurt you but to remind him you weren't going to disappear, that you were indeed alive.

"I'm here," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, a silent vow to never let you go again. The warmth of your embrace, the gentle rhythm of your breathing. With you, he felt whole, as if all the fractured pieces of his being had finally found their place.

[huenistar]

so kelly kim got 1st place on the survival show time turner even tho she can’t dance or sing for shit

atp im auditioning cause why r they accepting dozens brah😭😭

[pissbabysupreme]

…

[lehnsharrk]

The *New* Fassbender Psychopath Scale 😈

*Updated 01/27/2025*

I wanted to expand on the one introduced on the Kelly Clarkson show, below are the Fassy movies I've seen, my general "psychopath" rating for each character and reason why

Disclaimers:

For context I am essentially swapping "psychopath" with "evil," I am in no way trying to tie this to any psychological disorders or do a deep dive into any characters. Just a very surface-level "how nefariously evil is this character?"

These are my opinions, I encourage you to share, comment and make your own ratings. I will also be updating as I watch more of his films.

There *will* be spoilers so if you haven't seen these movies/shows, consider yourself warned!

The scale will also be a 0-5. I'm using 👿 and a zero will be a 👍

Let's go! 🦈

Movies 🎥

Inglourious Basterds: Lt. Hicox 👍

Goes undercover to help defeat the n*zis (and technically helps get a few killed, even though he dies in the process)

Centurion: Quintus Dias 👿

Just a soldier, trying to survive but I'm going to give him something for killing some people

Jane Eyre: Mr. Rochester 👿👿👿

Keeps his wife, suffering from mental illness, *locked in the walls* and keeps it a secret so he doesn't scare off another woman he's trying to marry. Dude...

X-Men: Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto 👿👿

Erik's anger comes from a place of trauma and his worst fears keep coming to fruition. That being said, he does blindly distrust all humans, betrays Charles multiple times and causes so much unnecessary destruction.

A Dangerous Method: Carl Jung 👿👿

Doctor cheats on his wife with his patients, twice. Also, probably not a good idea to have your patient be your employee.

Shame: Brandon Sullivan 👍

A man suffering with addiction and trauma, plus added stress and guilt when his sister stays over. Wish I could give him a hug.

Haywire: Paul 👿👿

Honestly he's not in it for that long and I wasn't paying attention but I guess he double crossed the main character and shot someone?

Prometheus/Alien Covenant: David 8 👿👿👿

I will defend David with my dying breath but I'll be honest he does some horrendous things. Intentionally infecting humans with alien parasites, massacring an entire planet, killing and experimenting on someone he loved? But the humans were mean to him...

12 Years a Slave: Edwin Epps 👿👿👿👿👿

Sadistic slave owner and r*pist, yep about as evil as it gets

Frank: Frank 👍

Poor Frank has done no wrong, just wants to make music and wear mask

Slow West: Silas Selleck 👿

Starts out tricking the main character so he can find a bounty but has a change of heart

Macbeth: Macbeth 👿👿👿👿

M*rders the king in his sleep so he can become king, orders Banquo and his son killed (although the son does escape) and burns Macduff's wife and children at the stake. One evil dude.

Steve Jobs: Steve Jobs 👿👿

Forget being a greedy businessman, a neglectful father and stealing credit from his friend and business partner, his cardinal sin was dipping his feet in a fucking public toilet

The Light Between Oceans: Tom Sherbourne 👿

Yes, he and his wife were heartbroken after their miscarriages but he does technically kidnap a child, keeping her from her grieving mother. His guilt starts eating at him and he desperately tries to keep his wife from getting prosecuted

Assassin's Creed: Cal/Aguilar 👿

I don't remember what or if there was a plot for this movie but I remember he was arrested for killing someone and then also kills some more people so I'll give him something.

Song to Song: Cook 👿👿

This movie was hard to follow but I'm giving him a two because he might be a groomer (he met the main character, who he later sleeps with, at 16) and he cheated Ryan Gosling's character out of the copyright on his songs.

Alien Covenant: Walter 1 👍

Don't really think Walter can be evil, he doesn't have the capacity that David does

Next Goal Wins: Thomas Rongen 👿

Verbally abusive and throws things. Also intentionally misgenders and deadnames a character because he's upset at her, all for the sake of character development!?

TV 📺

A Bear Named Winnie: Lt. Coleburn 👿

He brings a bear to a military camp, A BEAR. Also leaves the bear at a zoo, letting her live out her life in a small cage instead of releasing her back to the wild when he had the chance

William & Mary: Lukasz 👿👿👿

Jumped through the episode to watch the Fassy bits but ew I hate this one. Guy m*lests the midwife that just delivered he and his girlfriend's baby

Sherlock Holmes & The Case of the Silk Stocking: Charles Allen 👿👿👿👿

Even though it's two characters, I'm rating them the same. One's a child m*lester and murder and one knew about it and did nothing

The Agency: Martian 👿

Hmm he is knowingly putting himself, his daughter, the cia AND his girlfriend at risk because he can't let his relationship go? (Show is ongoing so we'll see if this changes)

Let me know what you think!

Share any suggestions of what movie I should watch next.

[violetmuses]

Armando Aretas + Receptionist!Reader (Part II)

Part I ❤️‍🩹

Tag List: @yassbishimvintage @nobodygetsza @peaxhygirl @superstar-t20 @adoresmiles @klssngss @deja-r @hyper-trash-panda @amethyst-loves-bucky @planetblaque @sweettea-and-honeybutter @lovedlover @xjjawsomex @readingisahobby @kindofaintrovert @nelo0wesker 🏷

======

2024

Ever since Armando left your house, he would enter the police station with unexpected feelings and quick smiles reached his own face more often than not.

Sooner than later, you found each other while joining the local coffee shop.

“What's up?” Armando offered his slightly accented English while making eye contact.

“It's my day off.” You responded while typing on your personal laptop.

“Cool, but did you get somebody else to cover the day?” Aretas noticed what happened and his routine threw off.

“Of course.” You nodded, still typing as this new manicure brightened your nails.

Just then, Armando's phone buzzed to signal Mike's arrival outside.

“Gotta go. See you tomorrow, maybe?” Aretas checked just in case.

“See you tomorrow.” Glancing over your shoulder, you smile as Mike's Porsche rolled near this curb and Armando joined the passenger seat.

******

“Early Bird!” Marcus cheered when you finally returned to work.

“Hi.” Despite rolling both eyes here, you laughed behind the entrance desk as usual.

“Got some candy in my pocket if your drink from the coffee shop didn't work.” Marcus bargained like a dealer himself.

“Wait. I thought you couldn't have junk food anymore?” You know that Marcus still fooled around regardless of surviving the heart attack.

“He can't.” Mike stepped forward and led Marcus away. “Let's go, man.”

Some things never change.

______

For whatever reason, Armando probably snuck into the building earlier.

When this scheduled briefing ended, you found Aretas walking upfront with Mike and Marcus in tow.

“Ready for the cookout this weekend?” Mike spoke up this time around.

“Free food, are you kidding?” You offered this joke to make everyone laugh.

“Meet at the park, all right? See you later.” Mike stepped out with Marcus, but Armando paused near your desk.

“Yes?” Your typing resumed and Aretas glanced around before speaking.

“Would you go with me?” Armando nearly whispered.

“Thanks, but I'll see you there.” You moved the conversation back to your original idea.

Damn. Aretas thought.

****

The Miami Police Department lined up this cookout from public parks each year. Even members of that new AMMO squad joined.

Laughing near weapons expert Kelly, you've gathered around this picnic table. Even tech genius Dorn, K's boyfriend at the time, rambled.

Meanwhile, Armando sat by himself despite the known warmth of Florida sunlight.

“What are you doing?” Mike's wife Christine, an experienced physical therapist, joined this table.

“I'm here.” Armando then tried to smile for a moment. Despite everything, Christine never darkened around him.

“Go sit over there…” While gently correcting Armando, Christine pointed near one table as you mingled with Kelly and Dorn.

“What?” Aretas narrowed his brown eyes, puzzled.

“Give yourself a chance.” Christine explained more. “Not everything is an alert. Just look around - we're all right.”

“Kay.” Armando nodded and finished his meal, throwing out the trash.

“Marcus!” Raving with Kelly and Dorn, you called Burnett to the grass when music started playing out loud.

“Stop running, he's old!” Mike ended up laughing first.

“I ain't old!” Marcus joked right and partied with everyone as intended.

Quietly taking out his phone, even Armando filmed a video this afternoon.

______

Once the playlist changed and Marcus left alongside family, Armando traded glances with Christine.

“Do it.” Christine realized that Aretas wanted to see you without interruptions.

Walking across the emerald lawn, Armando locked eye contact with you and Kelly smirked, leaving with Dorn.

“Yes?” No longer dressed for work, your shape nearly teased Armando.

“You haven't called me.” His slightly accented English returned.

“Phones work both ways.” You only gesture one hand.

“Fair enough.” Aretas guided you to stand under one of the shading trees. “Can we talk about something?”

“What's wrong?” You asked.

“I'm not good at this shit.” Armando struggled this time. To be honest though, I like you.”

Everything made sense.

Driving you home. No immediate phone calls. Checking from the police station. Drifting to that local coffee shop. This cookout invite. On and on.

Armando Aretas, the stone-cold killer, has been nervous and his feelings just revealed.

“Aw.” You smiled and his heart nearly jumped out of place. “Well, guess what?”

“What?” Armando questioned.

In that moment, your path stepped closer.

Aretas nodded with absolute consent when you smiled against his lips and kissed him for the very first time.

“I like you, too.” Your fingers smoothed Armando's dark beard when your lips turned away.

Walking hand in hand, you leave the park, joyful.