#women can never win jesus christ

[demonwebs]

will delete this, but what vexes me the most about playing female characters is how you get accused of being a ship whore if u so much as dare to breathe next to a male character, but then if you make a character who doesn't wanna ship with anyone, you also get ignored because ✨ misogyny always wins ! women can't win, even on something as silly tumblr rp ✨

[heavenbarnes]

I know you talked about meeting older bf!Simon in the alternate universe but can you please tell us how we met normal universe Simon?

oh ��� course i can write a little meet cute (i have oc you a little bit but that’s ok i think)

the first time you ever meet your older bf!simon, you’re actually at work.

your boss tells you and the rest of your coworkers (very late notice, might you add) that your dinky little cafe is taking part in a government run initiative-

“service for service men”

the collective hum of confusement doesn’t skip you and you’re even more confused when he tells you that different businesses are opening their doors to service men (and women technically) to allow them to integrate with their community.

you don’t want to outright say it seems performative but, it definitely seems performative.

nevertheless, you get your apron on and wait for them to arrive. you’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that, knowing your luck, you’re going to get some morally-grey weirdo.

instead you get-

“simon riley, uh- ghost”

your boss reads it from his clipboard as the man in question appears before you like an apparition. with a skull gator mask covering the lower half of his face.

ok.

you do your best to smile and give him your name when you learn quickly that this guy is a man of few words, but many grunts.

“do you prefer simon or ghost?”

he eyes you in his peripheral as you move behind the counter towards your coffee machine. he doesn’t answer and you know it’ll be a long day.

“alright, i’m picking simon”

and he doesn’t argue so you take it as a win.

you bring him to the coffee machine and explain the bare basics, you’re also hyper aware that in a few days- he’s going to go back to handling guns and never make another cappuccino in his life so you don’t go too crazy.

but he does have to make his own coffee.

“and then you would bring the milk jug to this spout and the steam froths it”

his eyes are blank, unreadable- but jesus christ can he hold a stare. you get this unshakable sense that he does not give a fuck and, honestly, you can’t blame him.

but it is your job.

“do you want to give it a go?”

his eyes flicker to the machine for a second before they’re back on yours, expecting more silent treatment you nearly jump when he speaks.

“what if i fuck it up?”

your eyebrows crinkle just a little. what? it’s a coffee machine? this man’s probably performed manoeuvres the average person didn’t know existed.

and he’s scared of a coffee machine?

you almost want to snort a little laugh but a voice in your head tells you better not. instead you step a little closer to him.

“you won’t, i won’t let you”

and he catches you in his peripheral again, ever so slightly inching closer to you. he surprises you again by speaking up.

“will y’tell me what t’do?”

“if that’s what you’d like, course i will”

and that’s what you do. massive hands dwarf the milk jug as he cradles it so not to scald the milk but moves it with a dexterity you can only admire.

“and pull it off like- that, that’s perfect”

he looks at the milk before he looks at you, almost like he’s studying your expression.

“y’sure?”

“yes- you did a good job, simon”

he turns his head before you can get a good look at his expression. as he’s pouring the milk into the mug like you’d instructed, you very nearly missed what he said.

“i prefer simon”

craning your neck so you can better see his face, you question it with a quiet hum.

“i prefer y’calling me simon- i didn’t want y’to call me ghost”

oh.

“glad i picked well then”

he doesn’t respond to that but you figure he’s not the type you push. his coffee rests on the bench before him and he’s looking at it like he wants to try.

then he’s looking around at all the people filling the small cafe and his knuckles nudge at the edge of his mask.

oh.

you don’t know how you do it but you put two and two together quite quickly. eyes darting to the door behind you, you’re telling him to follow you.

he ends up, coffee in hand, in the small break room at the back. just a table and a couple chairs with a zip boiler on the wall.

you offer him a chair as you awkwardly hover by the door. “so you can enjoy your creation”

he takes a seat and then looks at you expectantly, before nodding his head towards the other chair.

you sit, do what you’re told- and all of a sudden he’s checking his six once before he pulls the mask down.

it takes your breath away a little bit.

honestly? truthfully? he just looks like a man.

but to you? a part of you is worried that you might spend the rest of your life thinking about him.

like you might be old and grey one day without a thought left to your name but he’ll be the last thing to leave your mind.

he doesn’t break that hardline stare with you as he takes a sip. he really didn’t have to groan quietly as he did it, but he did.

you think he watches you fidget. you think you like it. you think he does too.

at the end of the day, your coworkers are complaining as you all get your bags and close up shop for the day.

“i hope they all got something out of it cause i didn’t get a single bloody thing”

you snort in amusement, minding your business as you shrug your jacket on. as your hands burrow into your warm pockets you feel your fingers brush over the small slip of paper.

you could almost trace the pen stroked digits.

yeah, didn’t get a bloody thing.

[aheathen-conceivably]

🎶 I ain't looking for a lie to believe, my own'll do me fine 🎶

Strangerville’s saloon was in full swing. Men who were worried about feeding their families or women scared their men may never come home from California finally had a place to drown their worries or lose them in the high of a shared laugh. Where illegality and excess had amplified the spirit of drink a decade before, now palpable relief and struggle had taken its place.

In between pouring a never ending stream of whiskey and beer, Josephine watched the woman across the bar. She had thought that outselling her would be easy. She had been dismissive, gruff, and even downright rude; and if there was one thing that Jo had learned in New Orleans, it was that she could sell anything with a suggestive glance better than the disdain she often really felt. 

Only this woman made no effort to hide the ribs and insults she seemed to lay out like easy jokes. She would swoop down to tables, seemingly calling each and every patron by name, laughing roughly and loudly before bringing them one beer after another. Part of it infuriated Josephine, but another part wouldn’t let her tear her eyes away from her every move.

She seemed comfortable running the place entirely alone, throwing Josephine a wink in between customers as though to say: I’m going to win, city girl. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.

At the end of the night with the last drink served and the final stumbling patron seen to the door, Josephine and the woman sat at the bar, tallying their earnings. As Jo reached the end of her stack and set it on the counter, the woman was still counting. She finished with painfully slow fanfare and put the pile neatly beside Josephine’s. It was clearly and discernibly higher. “Well looks like we have a clear winner here, and we know what that means, don’t we?” 

Then she smiled in the same dismissive way that she had earlier that day, and moved her gaze to the stack of ones Jo had set down, “Not too shabby for a first night though. Most people in this town don’t trust a new face but you did better than I expected. And I’ll admit, the extra help was nice. A decade of sitting at home did nothing to temper these drunks, and I could use you around most nights.”

Jo straightened her spine and covered her eyes. Suddenly the job seemed like pity, the money nothing but a tether to a place she hated and people who had betrayed her. It wasn’t hers, and it certainly didn’t give her the sense of self or freedom she had expected to find. All the stacks told her was that she had lost. Lost to some tall and stocky woman at her own game in someone’s else’s bar in some fucking desert town she couldn’t even give a damn what the name was.

Her head swam and she started to separate from herself, to forget where she was or who she was. If she could feel her legs she would have stood to run, run to the edge of this town into the desert, away from this place and these people and all of these feelings…

“Jesus Christ, are you okay?” The words had come like static from a radio, from a voice she didn’t recognize or really care to please.

“What? I – I just,” Josephine stubbed out her cigarette straight on the bar as she gathered herself and turned to stand. Only she couldn’t, because she still couldn’t feel her legs or sense where she was, even as her pride and anger started to flood back to her flushed face. “I was just thinking on your offer. I’m afraid I can’t take it.”

The woman laughed, the sound shaking off the remaining clouds around Josephine’s head. “That sore of a loser, huh? Well that pride’ll earn their respect a lot faster than your pretty grins. Come back tomorrow night, we’ll go again. I’ll teach you a few names, see if we can tip the scales.”

Josephine looked up at her. By that point she could have moved to stand, walked back across town with her head held high and the secret of her loss hidden carefully away from the man waiting for her at home. Only there was no pity in the woman’s face, only a wry if good natured sense of superiority that Jo was more than familiar with from her own mirror; and up this close it was hard to deny that even with its hardened lines, there was a beauty to the woman’s face, so much so that Jo wanted to reach out to the hand extended to her even more.

As she did so the woman let her hand stay in Jo’s a moment longer than she expected. “Welcome aboard Miss Duplanchier. Now's as good a time as any to introduce myself. I’m Valcita. Valcita Grove. But you can call me Val.”

Then Jo realized that she was right. Her face was beautiful, the same way that the shadowless desert was beautiful in the full heat of the midday sun. Her heart beat faster as she imagined running into it again, not in fear this time, but in freedom, smiling as her world went up in flames behind her.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen

TW: noncon, angst, trauma, PTSD, don’t read this if you like hot doctors named Julian (he was probably an actual sweetheart in canon, but we decided to flip that around in this, so read with that in mind)

You really should have foreseen it, before letting yourself hang out alone in the breakroom. But you are tired–exhausted, actually, and you can only blame so much on the work at hand.

Tom fucking Ludlow.

You find yourself grinning like an idiot at your sandwich–which is exactly how Dr. Julian Mercer finds you, of course. You don’t even fucking hear him approach. He just appears at your side like a ghost, and you nearly jump out of your skin as he says in a low voice, “Y/n.”

“Jesus Christ,” you wheeze, clutching your chest. “Julian…”

“Maybe Doctor would be more appropriate.” It probably would, but you’re not sure if he’s asking for this out of the cold indifference his tone suggests–or that other little extra meaning it has for the two of you.

“Okay, Doctor Mercer. Creep around like a fucking ghost much?”

“No. You were just distracted.”

You blow air between your teeth. You really don’t want to fight with this man right now, but it feels like he’s spoiling for something. “What do you want?”

He takes your hands in his, running gentle fingers over marks on your wrists that have now mostly faded. You hate to admit it–but this careful, questing touch sends a thrill across your skin. “The animal,” he growls under his breath. “Clearly no clue as to what he was doing.”

Hoo boy, was he wrong about that.

“Did you have a safeword at least?”

“No…?”

“Fucking amateur.” 

You don’t know how to tell him, that rendering sex absolutely clinical with boundaries and safewords beforehand just doesn’t do it for you. You just…trusted Tom not to hurt you. And he didn’t. 

“Julian…”

“Doctor.”

“Yeah, that. What do you think you’re doing?” You try to pull your hands away, but he holds on, just firm enough to keep you. Despite what Tom likes to taunt, Julian is not little, or weak.

The look in his eyes is that of a man drowning.

“Losing my mind?”

“You are being ridiculous. You have got to let it go.”

“I’m trying, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

This is absurd. Men do not lose their shit over you. They use you, then throw you away at their first convenience. You give a fat sigh that you hope conveys your annoyance. 

“Julian, have you seen the women that walk around this hospital? Better, Have you seen the women in your BDSM club? Have you never thought of trying one of those girls out? I mean, they are into the same stuff.” 

His thumb presses on the dark marks the belt left on your wrist, making a little diffuse ache light your skin. “You are clearly into BDSM, y/n. Just the unsafe way of doing it, I suppose.” 

Okay, now he’s just plain pissing you off. Once again, a man insinuating that you’re too stupid and naive to advocate for yourself. Too weak to take initiative, too gullible to know that you have to. You wrench your hand back from him, and he glares after it like it called him a dirty name. “Are you kidding me?” You say, not hiding the bite of your words, “and setting people on fire is just so safe, right? Whipping someone’s feet is the safest thing you can do in sex, yep, boy howdy, you’re absolutely right, Julian. How stupid of me.” 

Your aim is to hurt him with your words, although now you’re regretting it when he looks back at you with those big, brown, sad orbs. Fuck, you can just never win with this man and his multiple personalities. He runs a hand through his hair. “You’re with him, then?” 

“I’m…” you take a breath and try to step outside of yourself for a minute and view the situation objectively, just like you learned to do in therapy, and what you’re seeing is a misguided man who doesn’t know he can bag any freaky woman he wants become overly attached to you because he was vulnerable with you that one time. “I’m not.” How do you word it without sounding pathetic? “I’m not that great of a catch. I promise you there is a much better person out there for you.” 

“I don’t think so,” he says quietly, intensely, sending a shudder through you that freezes and burns all at once. “Do you love him?” 

“What?” You ask incredulously. “I just met him.”

“Well, then, I still have a chance.” 

Your fist clenches unconsciously, ready for a fight. Maybe a metaphorical fight, but a fight nonetheless. “No,” you tell him, swallowing your nice, “you don’t, Julian.” 

“What if…I promised not to punish you?”

This does make you pause, and you swear, not because you’re actually considering it, but because you are surprised he would even think to compromise his needs, for you. 

It’s a heady feeling, if not entirely misplaced.

“No,” you answer, much too late. “No, no, nope.”

“I can see you’re intrigued.”

“No, I’m…flabbergasted. It wouldn’t be any fun for you.”

He looks you up and down, blatantly checking you out. You swear you will never get used to that look in a man’s eyes, trained on you. “I wouldn’t say that.” Then his attention turns back to your wrists, tracing the marks Tom’s belt left again with fascination. “Just let me…do this to you. God, the things I would do to you.” He inches closer as he says this, until before you know it you are standing nearly chest to chest, and your heart is beating at a mile a minute.

You have to try twice, before you find your voice. “That’s exactly what scares me about you, Julian.”

He dares to touch you, turning your face up to his with his palm on your jaw. “That you might like it, y/n?”

You take a deep breath, and you step back, away from Julian. Away from your sandwich too, unfortunately. But you guess you’re going to have to write it off. Or circle back later. You have no further clever quips to offer Dr. Julian Mercer. For lack of a better word–you flee.

At the nurses’ station a bright and cheery reminder of someone else’s devotion awaits you. A happy bouquet of sunflowers, with a simple card that reads, Dorothy, Thinking about you. Glad you’re not in Kansas anymore -T It is just the boost to morale you need, after your chilling little interlude with Julian.

However, you don’t get to take them home. They disappear while you are working, and you think you know who is to blame for the childish act of revenge. Rather than letting it drop, you decide to prove to Julian that you have boundaries and he can’t just push you around like this. 

You catch him as he’s about to get into his car, and get Deja Vu from the scenario. The parking garage isn’t well lit, empty of other humans, and damp with oppressive LA heat. Maybe it’s not the best place to confront a man, but you never claimed to be a complete genius. And, now that you’re here…

“Julian, do you know where my sunflowers went? From the desk? Tom got them for me.”

He looks down at you with dark eyes. “Fresh flowers are a health code violation. I had to dispose of them.” 

And you thought Tom could make you livid; Julian is here proving that he can spike your anger from a two to a ten in one simple sentence. “And what about the flowers you got me that stayed at the desk? Huh? Those were fine, right?”

He shrugs. “No.” 

“So, what the fuck?” You’re raising your voice, feeling the heat of anger singing through the blood in your body like a vengeful choir. Your fist clenches to actually punch him—God, you want to. 

“I’ll buy you more flowers,” he says, as if that’s going to fix the problem. 

“I don’t want your flowers,” you growl, “I don’t want you, Julian!” 

Before you know what’s happening, he has you gripped up in his hands and pressed against the door of his car, mouth on your own, bullying inside to suck and bite and bruise. You try to push and kick and thrash against him, but his long body is pressed firmly into yours, holding you steady against warm metal. His blunt fingers dig into the flesh of your upper arms and make you gasp, which allows him further entrance into your mouth.

You can’t fucking breathe with him latched onto you like this, and your frantic hands reach to tear at his scrubs, his belt, his skin. He pulls away, blessedly, panting and wild eyed, and you immediately start in on him. “Get the fuck off me, Julian.” You writhe in short, shallow breaths, lungs crushed by his heavy torso and unable to entirely fill. 

“This is what you want,” he says, ignoring your demand. “You want someone to take advantage of you. Make you, force you. And if that’s what you need, that’s what I can give.”

“I don’t want that,” you reply. “I want the opposite of that! Get off me! I will scream.” 

His mouth edges into a terrifying smile. “You think anyone’s going to hear you?” He asks, looking around the empty parking garage. “You think anyone’s going to save you if I decide to take you home for a few days and do terrible things to you?” He grabs your chin, fingers spanning the entire bottom, reminding you of the size difference and making you whimper in pain. He presses his lips against the shell of your ear. “Make you regret having nerve endings…” 

Your whole body is shaking violently with adrenalized fear. Sweet Doctor Julian is a fucking wolf in sheep’s clothing, and he’s hungry for your flesh and blood. You should have known. You should have seen this coming. Shouldn’t you be an expert on narcissists and abusers by now? Shouldn’t you have been smarter? Shouldn’t you do the smart thing now and convince him to let you go?

“Please, Julian.” Disgust bubbles in your gut, reacting vehemently to the pathetic, pleading voice that leaves your mouth. “Please don’t.” 

He pulls your chin up a little higher. “You can beg prettier than that.” 

“Please, Doctor.” You swallow the raging hatred you have for yourself. “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll be a good girl.” 

He hums and kisses you temple, lips ghosting into your hairline as he inhales your shampoo choice. “You’re lucky I don’t put you on your knees right here and make you choke on my cock for a while, pumpkin.” 

“Please.” You give him your best impression of a beaten dog with wide, owl eyes, hoping you can somehow get out of this without actually getting hurt. All you can think of is Tom; how you wish he was here to beat the fuck out of Julian, how you should have let him beat the fuck out of Julian on your doorstep. 

His hand moves down, pressing softly into the front of your throat, just enough to make it uncomfortable. “It’s refreshing to see something so wild become so tame with fear.” Fear is an understatement. Pure panicking terror is what consumes you. Bred from C-PTSD and Julian’s heavy, big hand on your throat. You’ve been here before, small and terrified under a man with power… And, suddenly, you’re her again, that little girl trembling and cowering and cornered. You don’t know that you’re crying until a little tear tickles down your cheek. 

He kisses that saltwater trail, peeks his tongue out to taste your sad desperation and shivers against you. “You taste delicious.” 

Fucking Hannibal Lector, Psycho, serial killer. How did you not see it? How? 

It occurs to you that Tom saw it, saw straight through the mask, to the beast beneath Julian Mercer’s carefully constructed facade, all along. He’d warned you, but like the stubborn little idiot you are, you didn’t listen. 

Tom. Somehow it’s the thought of him, how he looks at you like you are precious, like you’re not stupid, like you are something worth saving, that breaks your thought pattern, your desire to just freeze and hope this man with his hand on your throat isn’t going to hurt you, hope that the bad thing goes away if you’re still enough, small enough, don’t draw attention to yourself. You think on what Tom would have you do.

You hear Ludlow’s voice, plain as day, cutting through the fear: c’mon, you have just enough room to fuck him up. 

You drive your knee as absolutely hard as you can into Dr. Julian Mercer’s gonads. 

The good doctor crumbles with a groan that sounds like his soul leaving his body. 

You run. On your shaking legs as fast as you can to your car, barely able to unlock the door with your trembling hands trying to manipulate your keys in the lock. You feel like you’re in a horror film. Instead of being the one yelling at the screen, Don’t run up the stairs, stupid!—you are the stupid girl, and you have so much sympathy for the girl being chased by the Big Bad with a knife and having no idea what to do with your hands. 

No. You are not dying today. You are not letting this monster win today. You are not fodder. You are Final Girl material, goddammit. Maybe you never believed it before, but Tom’s voice is still in your head. You can hear him ordering you what to do. Put in your key. Twist. Open. Get in. Lock the door. 

 You manage all this somehow, just before Juian slams against your window, his face a mask of fury. “Open the door, y/n.” 

Maybe still channeling Tom, and maybe acting completely on your own now, you press your middle finger against the window for him before starting your engine and peeling away. He barely manages to stumble back in time to save his toes from getting crushed by your racing tires. 

[latibvles]

after-action report.

a women’s hockey team au because i can never enjoy things normally. a special thanks to @basilone , @saturnwisteria , & @moghraidhs for lending me so many of their girls to make a full team !! :) anyways here’s this, takes place right after the first game against lottie’s old team after she was traded to the “New York Rats” in the off-season in 2018 >:) Viv has also just been named “Alternate Captain” in the off-season.

—

"Rats go the other way— here's Willie Neumann, she's been all over the place in this third period. Neumann comes in— she feeds— across, Josephine Evans to Kelly— she SCORES! The New York Rats break through and win it in OT!”

—

The locker room's bustling by the time Vivian makes it inside. Lottie's got a line of stitches on her lip and a sour expression, glaring all the way down the tunnel. Vivian puts her still-gloved hands up in a method of mock surrender; Lottie rolls her eyes in that halfway point between annoyed and amused.

"Someone had to do it," she declares, before Vivian can say anything.

"You say that every time, Lot!" Anita teases from her side of the locker room, where she's since shed her pads and jersey and tossed them into the proper receptacles to be cleaned.

"And I'm right every time!"

No outward protests on that front — they had a feeling there'd be a fight anyway. As much as Lottie's assimilated into the team since her trade in the off-season, they all know about the chip on her shoulder that she's still got about being traded at all.

Lottie getting into a scrap with a busted lip after taking a puck to the face just hadn't been on Vivian's bingo card. She chalks it up to adrenaline and a healthy amount of bitterness towards her old teammate. She makes her way offer, to where Josie Evans is tossing Lottie a fonder smile. Lottie on the other hand is simmering as she meticulously yanks at the Velcro of her shoulder pads. A powder keg still smoking, a fuse with a thin drag of smoke trailing from the tip, ready to be relit. She looks up and squints and Vivian can't help but snort.

"Lighten up would you?" She bumps Lottie's calf with her still skate-clad foot. "How many stitches?" Lottie presses her lips into a line, and it almost forms a perfect T with the black line protruding from the bottom one.

"Doc Alden said sixteen, I think?"

"Jesus Christ," Vivian looks back down the tunnel, half expecting Jo Alden to be there, lingering. "You'll be good for tomorrow?" The second half of their back-to-back, LA Stars tonight, Texas Blackhawks tomorrow. Lottie nods with the slightest scrunch of her nose, like the notion that she'd sit the next one out is downright offensive.

"S'just a cut. M'fine." She huffs, and Vivian smiles a little wider at that — probably looking a little out of her mind.

"Good. We need our Ace. Now get decent. Media's coming in in fifteen." And as much as I'd love to spare you, they're probably going to want to talk to you, too.

The A on her jersey is a new thing to navigate, but she feels like she's been in some weird state of captaincy since she was eighteen and had a post-game microphone shoved in her face for the first time. She thinks this might be a halfway decent start — making more of a habit of keeping an eye on her teammates and not just her line.

Vivian finds her spot next to Willie after that, sitting down with a loud exhale and leaning over to start undoing her skates. She can feel Willie's eyes on her, saying nothing — she's gotten used to it after playing together for the past three years. She flings her jersey into the heap, shrugs off her shoulder-pads and then tosses Willie a curious glance.

"You wanna talk to 'em this time?"

"You've got it covered." Vivian snorts at the immediate answer as Willie pulls her New York Rats t-shirt over her head, compression shirt long since shed. Vivian shakes her head a little.

"Don't be so eager to save me next time, Willie." The dark-haired girl scoffs.

"Don't act like you don't like it." Vivian tries not to smile a little, not gratifying that with a response.

Vivian has shed her pads and her jersey by the time the doors open, John Egan at the front of the wave of five reporters. The top knot of his tie is undone a bit, and he tosses her a smile and a wink — neither of which are especially subtle.

Willie rises and walks to the other side of the room.

"Hi guys," Vivian offers with a small wave as they make their way to her with all manner of recording devices — phones and mics and an old-school recorder for an older guy working with MSG Network. She leans forward a bit, elbows on her knees as the familiar ache of her body winding down starts to settle in. "Have at it."

Egan, first — because he's always first, as their newish on-ice reporter. Last year he spent a lot of time shadowing Bill Veal. This year, they let him loose on all of them. She looks him up and down, at the easy smile on his face and the mess of curls flopping over his forehead.

Definitely loose.

"You put up two assists in this game and are steadily on a point-per-game pace according to the stat sheets," he starts out, and Vivian tries not to preen under the praise for once. "This is the second year in a row you're getting closer to breaking that ninety-point-mark. Is that something you're aiming to achieve this season?"

"What, scoring a lot of goals?" The others in the room chuckle, routine and rehearsed. Vivian gives him a smile. "I mean yeah, it'd be nice. Y'know, I wanna keep improving my game, keep putting up marks, setting up plays. So if it happens this year well— you'll probably be the one to know before I do." Egan nods at that, a slight crinkle to his eyes at his smile. Let the circus begin.

She's gotten used to it after three years of questions. They were more brutal when she was eighteen, have lightened up on her a bit over time as she's grown into herself a little more. Vivian tries not to snicker at how some of them squirm just a little, or flush when she looks at them dead on, or smiles with all her teeth, or teases them before answering.

They're going a little easy on them today, not that she's complaining.

The older guy, the one from MSG, nudges his old-school recorder a little closer. 

"It was ultimately a power play brought about by Rivers in that third period that got the Stars a goal and forced the game into overtime," he starts out in a gruff voice, scratchy and serious. "What's the conversation like in the locker room or on the bench before you go into that overtime period?" There it is.

She runs her tongue over her lips, the salt of her sweat clinging to her tongue as she mulls over the answer, before swiping a hand over her mouth.

"I mean— it's exactly what you'd imagine. It's not about who got the penalty, it's about the penalty kill — how well we're shutting them down in our zone, getting the puck out. So obviously we're not singling people out in the middle of a game." Her eyes flit back over to Lottie's on the other end of the locker room — brief, then returning to the reporter. "Or after it. They're a good team and not every game's gonna be a cakewalk, y'know? Not our first overtime win or loss. It just happens sometimes," Vivian shrugs, then squints slightly. "That answer your question?"

They continue on, a couple more questions before fluttering to the next player —Lottie, who looks over at Vivian with clear displeasure, to which Vivian just mouths a "Told ya so" that makes Lottie shake her head a little before trying to re-steel her face.

They haven't been playing together long; there was training camp in September, and the monthful of games after that. She can't exactly say she knows what it feels like to be traded, and kind of hopes she'll never know it. But she knows what it feels like to be singled out. We're not throwing you to the wolves yet is what Vivian doesn't say, but she hopes her answer conveys as much.

Willie wanders back towards her, tilts her head to one side.

"What're you thinking?" Vivian's lips press into a line, glaring a dagger into the back of one of those reporters' heads, before refocusing her attention on the dark-haired girl.

"They need to start asking better questions in here."

[mememanufactorum]

Super Shenanigoons 64 sentence starters

* FEEL FREE TO SHARE AS YOU PLEASE, NO CREDIT NEEDED. CHANGE PRONOUNS OR ANYTHING ELSE AS DESIRED.

All lines are from this video.

Just keep making eye contact with me and do not break eye contact with me.

Okay, yeah, no, I feel like you're doing a real good job, making me feel wanted!

How dare you hit them like that! Hit them a little harder next time.

My goodness. Clutching my pearls.

Lemme take a couple of shots and I'll let you know.

They left me here... I showed them what I can't obtain.

Welp, you killed them.

Bro, why are you dragging his cock on the ground, bro? Just throw him, Jesus Christ!

I run faster when there's women around me because I'm scared!

Babe, what's wrong? You don't like the joke?

They said I had to pay a million dollars!

Oh, this guy's gonna die!

You're a command.

My brain is so big, where are you?

Did I ever tell you I'm a professional at Wii Baseball?

She's abusive, she's beating me up! ...Why the fuck are you laughing?! Help me!

I suffered no survivor's guilt!

Who is hot dicking this piano, dog?!

No, don't you fucking kick me bitch!

I've been clawing! That shit hurts!

Awww. Maybe that's where you deserve to be?

You know what? Two can cheat at this.

You prefer it because you're winning.

You're just beating me up because your franchise is dead.

I'd like to leave my million dollars of debt to [name].

Today I learned how to teach [name] a long jump. Tomorrow, a Half-A press.

Objective: Kill that fucking bird!

Oh my God, I'm handsome.

I'm nothing without my drip...

Is that the "call me if you get lost" fit? Because you're definitely lost!

Have a nice fall, bitch!

Way to make it a competition, [name]! Here I g— I'm not competitive, shut up!

You were too vulnerable for me to not kill you!

I'm gonna get this fucking rat.

I need you to step aside. This motherfucker kicked me down a flight of stairs and now says "Why are you being mean?" Fuck you! I'll kill you!

The weight of her sins slows her down but we are free!

Please let me show you the strength of us humans!

The power of humans really is something, huh?

I should've learned how to swim! I was gonna buy swimming lessons with that money you owe me!

There is nothing more terrifying than the concept of Sonic being mad at you, like, you're so fucked! You're so fucked.

I'd sooner die than give you the satisfaction!

Your drowning will be satisfaction enough.

I think you just die.

I've never been so blindsided in my whole life!

Hi~ Welcome to Hell!

I'm no stranger to people trying to get my shoes off, man!

I'm your new dad now!

I'm like a Disney mom. I went straight to Hell.

Well, well, well, if it isn't the blowjob brothers!

That was my joke, you just said it louder...

I got bad news. I'm going to Super Hell!

Holy shit, what that ass do? Damn!

Oh, I "fucked up" fucked up! I'm in "danger" danger!

I cannot help you. This is a purgatory of your own making.

I just wanted a snack!

I wish I wasn't that cool honestly.

I'm in tree purgatory!

Bro is acting like a protag. We need to kill him, dog. He needs to get humbled.

God forbid women do a little violence as a treat!

You're bonking your head over nothing!

Are you saying I can get across the rainbow with a British passport?

I just need to jump and not fucking freak out.

You can't offer it and then change it to a price!

Name one time I deserved it.

I'm trusting you to fuck this up.

I'll talk to women, it's okay.

Why did you say "when I actually murder someone" like I haven't already?

Of course I was gonna steal that shit! Are you kidding me?

It's not always me, dickhead. Okay, it was THAT time, but it's not ALWAYS me.

[theboytatu]

what would be EXO f1 counterparts?

this is the type of question i love so much i never get around to answering because i spend too much effort trying to get it right. but not today

seeing as i'm an f1 newbie i don't feel confident enough to assign each exo a driver counterpart but i will assign them a team

suho - downright mercedes. there's literally no other team for him. actually he might have a lot in common with russell they're both pretentious hipsters who look like old money from a mile away. he's a skilled driver and determined to always do the right thing even if that means getting lapped by hooligans who bend the rules to their advantage (baekhyun) but he eventually does get a few podiums. plus he polls the best with women in their 30s-50s

minseok - i wanna say he's the type of driver that gets underestimated because he's from a smaller team but then he keeps proving himself every season until he actually gets podium. even the big 3 respect him. so i'd put him in sauber.

baekhyun - ugh i mean. is it too on the nose if i say ferrari? can i say ferrari? wait you know what i changed my mind. he's so obviously in red bull. jesus christ ughhh. he has a lot in common with verstappen now that i think about it. both are pretty introverted off the track and prefer to stay in their room gaming but when it's time for work they will murder you. and they KNOW they are the best and act like it which is what makes them so polarizing for the audience.. also he wins wdc and doesn't let us forget all year

chen - ferrari. this is the perfect team for the perfect driver perfect people's princess posterboy of f1... what can i say chen leclerc is a real thing that makes so much sense!! even if they're racing against him none of these other men can help but genuinely love him!!! chen IS ferrari. like he's so julia...

chanyeol - after much consideration i have decided to go with haas for him. i think chanyeol would be an incredibly skilled driver and haas is enough of a challenge for him to like literally pull out of the gutter and lead to their first podium. also it's the team with most of that bad boy image like they got some grit to them and i think chanyeol would really fit that... plus he's hot headed enough that he would make contact with his teammate and get yelled out of the team principal's office like magnussen. (eventually he leaves haas and joins ferrari for my number one team rocket duo with jongdae).

kyungsoo - toro rosso/rb or whatever they're called now... he's literally so much like tsunoda im sorry they're just 🐧🐧 penguin emoji to me 😭 he's just there to do his job get in get out and will not do silly interviews where they ask him what's his favorite food.. but also lmfao he's actually a good enough driver that he's making waves and finishing in the top 5 easily! (also: not to be like that but the implications of kyungsoo being in rb vs. baekhyun being in red bull. twin teams. rival siblings. kyungsoo rolling his eyes at all the fanfare and bragging while baekhyun is secretly threatened that ksoo is good enough that they might bring him into red bull)

kai - renault (sorry.. alpine). i have nothing to say about this team the same way i almost always have nothing to say about kai. they're just there to me. kai is like the esteban ocon of kpop TO ME

sehun - mclaren. it just makes so much sense. sehun being a legacy driver and his dad/godfather/whoever being a mclaren driver and now he's a mclaren driver... they are like the most old money team ever even more than mercedes. i also think sehun wouldn't be the most skilled f1 driver and he probably never gets podium but his fanpower is so big his seat in the team is secured for life lmfao. like he's the one getting all the perfume ads and being invited to milan fashion week so honestly half his f1 career is just modeling

[kayyybenson]

How You Met - SVU Gang

Olivia, Alex, and Amanda are mother AU because I personally would love to have one of them be my mother

Sonny Carisi:

    Ironically, you used to be a lawyer. You came from a rich family that always pushed you to do your best and moved from Boston to New York after secretly attending the police academy behind your parents' backs.

    I walked into the squad room, Liv had told me ahead of time that there were some changes but I wasn't expecting a whole new seating arrangement. "Y/N, I know you and Amanda work harmoniously together but we have a new guy so you're going to break him in." She gestured towards the man sitting across from my desk. I placed my stuff down and sat, ignoring him. I wasn't trying to be rude I just had a lot of paperwork to do

    "Nice to meet you, I'm Dominick Carisi Jr. but you can just call me Sonny." He stretched his long arm across the desk and I shook it.

    "Y/N L/N. I'm guessing you're my new partner, I'm happy to be working with you, Sonny."

Nick Amaro:

    You met him at the same time Amanda met him when he walked into the squad room with a full beard. Funny thing, you moved to New York long before Amanda, you were getting tired of Kim's shit. 

    "When are you going to stop bringing new people in?" Liv asked Cragen, it was almost like she wanted to be fired.

    "When you get over Elliot. Look at Y/N, she's recovering well." Cregen pointed at me.

    "I'm only doing well because Amanda is here. I'm telling you she can read my thoughts." I whispered the last part, earning a smack on the back of the head.

    "Well don't hate me for this, I'm partnering you with a Narcotics transfer, and Amanda, you'll be with Fin."

    "Jesus Christ, another one? Was Fin, not enough?" 

    "That was uncalled for." Fin jokingly glared as the elevator opened.

    "Oh wow," I mumbled when I saw my new partner I walked up to him and introduced myself. "I'm Y/N Rollins, you must be the narcotics transfer."

    "Is it that obvious?" I nodded and he chucked. "Nick Amaro,"

    "Careful Amaro, your new partner has a bad temper." Amanda chuckled when Nick turned to you shocked.

Rafael Barba:

    You were an elementary school teacher, first grade specifically. You met Rafael when one of your student's parents raped you for giving their kid a bad grade on a test. 

    "You know I'll never be able to return to my job after this, right?" I frowned and looked at the SVU captain.

    "Well, not at that school. But maybe another school would take you." The door opened and a man in a suit came in. 

    "Ms. L/N? I'm Rafael Barba, the ADA." 

    "Nice to meet you." I scooted away, scared he would touch me.

    "Now, I understand what happened to you, so let's win this. Yeah? Tell me what happened."

    "Well, I had requested for this parent to come in for a conference because his daughter was failing all her tests, he agreed and when he was in my classroom he pinned me against the wall and raped me, he kept saying 'no one fails my daughter, this is your fault'." 

    "Well, we got enough from the rape kit to arrest him, we just need a positive ID from you." I nodded, anything to but this perv away.

Olivia Benson:

    You were found in a pimp house that the squad infiltrated, and you were around 5 years old. Your mother pimped women out to "Give them better lives"

    "Everybody get down!" I heard a voice yell, and people started rushing in and pushing people down. I quickly ran to the corner of the room, trying to escape the chaos. A woman came up to me and crouched down to my height.

    "Hi sweetie, my name is Olivia, what's yours?"

    "Y-Y/N."

    "Nice to meet you Y/N. Don't worry, you're safe now." They brought me to a hospital to check me out, and once they were done they sat me in a room with toys, No one else was there though, it was just me, in a room, all alone. I decided to draw with some crayons. The door opened and the same women from before came in and sat across from me. "Hi Y/N, do you remember me?" 

    "Yeah, you're Olivia, you arrested my mommy." I continued working on my drawing.

    "Do you know why I arrested your mommy?" 

    "Because she sold women. I was next. She said I was going to a nice man named Josh."

    "Well, you're not anymore. What are you drawing?"

    "Me and Josh. Mommy had us meet, and said I had to be broken in."

    "Sweetie, did they make you do something you didn't want to do?" I rapidly nodded.

    "Something was shoved inside of me, I said it hurt and to stop, but they didn't."

Amanda Rollins:

Amanda adopted you in Georgia, after a case that involved your older sister. You were waiting in a room in the hospital for your 'new mother'

    "Hey honey, how are you holding up?" I recognized the woman, she asked me questions about my sister,

    "Good." I made one of my Barbies hit the other one.

    "Your doll says otherwise."

    "She's fine, just a bruise." I colored a purple mark on her forehead. "If she doesn't recover I'll have a nice burial for her."

    "....Okay... Let's go home, okay?" 

Alex Cabot:

    You were the daughter of a rapist, he would use you to lure women in, they would come to babysit you then he would pull them into the bedroom. You were a main witness in the trial, going against the person who gave you food and shelter.

    "Okay, are you sure you can do this?" Detective Benson rubbed my back, we were in the hallway, waiting for Detective Stabler to come to get me to testify.

    "Yeah-yeah totally." The door opened and we were motioned to come in. "No turning back now."

    "The people call Y/N Hewwitt to the stand." I took a deep breath and sat down, bad enough that I was testifying against my own father but the crowd staring at me just made it so much worse. "How old are you Miss Hewwitt?" The blonde ADA asked. I opened my mouth to answer but nothing came out, I could feel his eyes on me, and when I looked over he was giving me 'the look'

     "I-I uh,"

    "Answer the question Miss Hewwitt." The judge badgered.

    "I-" my chest got tight, "my-" tears blurred my vision, "10." I pushed out trying to calm myself.

    "Stop this madness, my daughter is clearly in distress." My father tried to trick everyone, oh how I wanted to see him get locked away.

    "The witness is dismissed."

    "No-" I wheezed out. "No-I-I saw it! He did it!" 

    "Miss Cabot, control your witness." The ADA came over to talk to me but when she touched me I broke even more.

    "Don't touch me! He would look for babysitters, tell them he had a 10-year-old daughter who needed to be looked after while he was at work, he would pretend to leave then come back and drag her into the bedroom. She would beg him to stop, he did that to at least 8 babysitters." There was a pause before my father jumped from his seat.

    "You little slut! I gave you a place to live and you ratted me out! You will die for this, just like your mother!" He was dragged out and I started sobbing the ADA held her arms out to me, I accepted this time and sobbed into her chest while she rubbed my back and promised I'd never have to do that again.

[manie-sans-delire-x]

Well. To me it looks less like spreading awareness, and more like a downplaying how competent, resilient and self-preserving women can be. What about those who successfully win against their rapist in court? Rare, I know, but it happens. What about those who not only successfully escape domestic violence, but heal and manage to get into a happy relationship? You’re so focused on brutality, it’s unrealistic. It’s like you secretly want women to be abused…

😂 Youre stupid af. Jesus christ. Unfollow me.

"Rare I know" So you yourself admit over 95% of cases never see justice. "Unrealistic" to reblog news articles and studies of things that actually happen. Youre downplaying reality.

"How can bad things be true when 0.5% of the time justice is achieved and good things happen??"

Stupid fuck.

[insufferableprotagonistpoll]

Semifinals

Propaganda why Oscar is insufferable:

"“I want to be famous!” Ok, what for? “Whatever means I don’t have to work.”"

"Selfish, shallow, vain, materialistic, reckless, irresponsible, etc. Doesn't even have an aesthetically pleasing design, he's horrible to look at (like every other character in the movie tbf) so bro has literally 0 redeeming qualities. That one shrimp with the ridiculous sob story should have been the protag instead"

"His entire personality revolves around being shallow and selfish, to the point he sees no issue with lying for his own material gain, in the process shamelessly screwing over his best friend/future girlfriend -- she gave him her grandmother's valuable precious pearl to pay off his debts and get out of trouble, because she cares about him, and instead he fucking gambled it all on a horse race on impulse because he overheard some rando saying the race was rigged and guaranteed to win (surprise, it wasn't). Never really faces appropriate consequences for any of his actions. Gets an undeserved happy ending to top it all off, when really he deserves to suffer a little and learn a lesson.

Also has one of the ugliest anthro-animal designs I've ever seen so he's insufferable to even LOOK at, jesus christ."

Propaganda why Richard Rahl is insufferable:

"The character always, always has to be Right and Moral and Good. He always knows more than: his wife, organized religion, any and all government orders that he didn't set up personally. While he starts out reasonable enough in the first few books, he slowly devolves into the author's Ayn Rand-fantasy stand-in. In every book there's always a huge monologue that's secretly about how bad (fantasy) communism is.

Richard is also hypocritical. He will flip flop on issues and change with the whims of the author, but the narrative always portrays him as in the right no matter the context."

"Protagonist of the most idiotic book series ever, literally wins by sheer dumb luck and being too stupid to plan as the world bends around him. His girlfriend keeps getting kidnapped so he can rescue her, despite allegedly being powerful. He���s a fantasy Ayn Rand follower. He inherited a sword and the Most Powerful Magic Combination Ever which he can’t be trained in because he needs to learn by instinct. Every woman ever falls in love with him or is determined to help him by prophecy. He gets captured and tortured by several bdsm women (author fetish, blatantly) and doesn’t even appreciate it. He gradually seizes more and more control over he world than even his evil tyrant dad, then throughs a fit and runs off into the woods to sulk, leaving them to a violent conquest, when people object to this via voting. He’s inexplicably good at death football. I can keep going."

"Literally the oc in the author’s shitty Ayn Rand fantasy novel. All the women want him, he does magic by instinct. He cannot be trained because he has super rare magic that nobody else has had for millenia. His birth has been prophecied for centuries. Every new book features a new problem only he can solve by being too instinctly good at magic and untrained. He comes up with the Wizard’s Rules of Magic by dumb luck.

In one book he defeats communism and hopelessness by crafting the perfect statue of his girlfriend Kahlan, who is a way cooler character but still a Mary Sue & an idiot. The statue is so cool & beautiful & well made for the joy of making (unlike work under communism), that he sparks a riot and toppled the evil empire. By building a statue."

[fragileizywriting]

watched a recap of a romance erotica book called twisted love and i'd never heard of it up until like yesterday when i watched the video bc i have no idea what's going on in the tik tok world as well as the book world because i'm very bad at doing my hobbies. anyway, jesus christ what a wreck of a book. i can fix this. i can make a better adaption. i can write this story but better.

HERES HOW WE CAN STILL WIN, (felinette version woohoo o/ !!)

marinette, our main character, is a college student going for fashion design in paris at the age of 25. she's bright and bubbly and cheery, who works very hard at school and part-times at her parents bakery. she has a boyfriend— well, had a boyfriend— adrien agreste, known socialite, who had spoken wax of poetry over and over and over about how much he loved her, telling her that as a graduation present he'd buy her a boutique, an apartment, a car...... he decides to ghost everyone in his life after a breakdown, seemingly moving out of the city, for reasons that i haven't figured out just yet. i just need him to kick himself out of this city.

marinette, of course, is heartbroken. this sucks. she's grieving so hard.

enter felix, adrien's identical twin brother who has nothing to do with this, barely existed in her life up until now, but is attempting to snatch his brother right back from whatever dumb, impulsive ridiculous thing he did— adrien had a girlfriend, a solid apartment, a solid life, adrien had mentioned that he was so close to asking marinette to marry him...— finally knocks on marinette's door one afternoon. identical twin yet marinette has barely talked to him; the man's busier than anyone should be reasonably allowed to be, and isn't much of a sunshine as adrien is. i will routinely mention in this book that the light in marinette's livingroom/dining room makes felix's hair look whispy and nearly white against adrien's sure-fire sun-like flare of hair. even though felix's eyes are green just like adrien's, they're somber, and almost bluish at times.

marinette, obviously, wants nothing to do with felix.

"please leave," she tells him, because she's tired and lonely and is craving yet another box of icecream she keeps in the freezer for— well, moments like these, really. apparently. she's going to cry herself asleep for the fourth week in a row. girlboss behavior. "i kind of don't want to deal with your entire family right now."

"i understand," felix says, and he doesn't look all that convincing, because the man is standing there, awkwardly, hands fisted at his sides trying to figure out how to speak to her in a way that implies more than 'i've only ever seen you for a few hours every christmas when adrien invites family over and i'm the only family he has because our parents are all levels of fucked up and we don't really need to talk about this in depth right now'. and then, as a garnish, 'i've always been really thankful that adrien miraculously turned out fine from the whole ordeal considering that i had to go to therapy for multiple years, decades, in fact, to deal with our family, and i always thought he was fine everytime i'd see him probably four times a year, but apparently not, at all, and now i'm stuck dealing with his grieving... ex? girlfriend? ex??? and i don't know how to deal with women at all because i am an introvert the size of the moon but i'm really trying, here'. "i just don't think it's best to leave you alone."

"i'm fine," she replies, completely ignorant to his inner monologue. "i can handle myself. i'm an adult, felix."

and yet felix has the audacity to look— kicked, really. "i'm aware."

"could you give me some space?"

"of course." and then, because felix just apparently is all sorts of weird tricks up his business sleeves, blurts out: "not as much as i've always given you, though. right?"

"what do you mean?"

"i don't feel comfortable just leaving you completely on your own." there is an attempt for marinette to refute, to open her mouth and mention that she's still twenty-five, she's an adult, she's not a baby, and felix refutes it with a hand up in the air. "you're grieving because of my brother and i don't like the idea of not doing something about it."

and so, through reasons that i cannot at all comprehend how i will get here but i have to if i want to match (somewhat) the plot ("plot") points of the original book i'm rewriting, felix ends up (temporarily) moving into an apartment next door, for no other reason other than to make marinette feel safer and comfortable. just stick with me. ideally, there would be a plan of some kind here. for now, since this is only a tumblr post, i can just handwave that away. that's not my problem just now.

some of the main fixes i would make sure to change immediately is to change felix from a "ruthless alpha-lone-wolf dog behavior" to "i'm adrien's older brother (they are still twins but felix will routinely mention he's still the oldest born) and i feel a psychological, traumatic need to take care of him because i can't let my younger brother have any trauma from our parents, i refuse, i refuse, and if that means keeping his life together for him while he's gone, i'll do my best" and that means making sure that marinette is, at the very least, fine and not dead. that's a good plan. but as he spends more and more time with marinette, the more he realizes his mistake; he likes her as a friend, likes her a lot more, is impressed at her skills and slowly starts falling in love with her which is honestly very useful.

at some point, i'd have to have them have a solid "i'm not using you to replace him," she cries. "i just— love you." conversation. it's an important one. and a segue to the back half of the book that is just sex.

another thing that i would change from the original story is the ridiculous b plot of dark secrets and betrayal and incidents, because that's not necessary. i could carry this book entirely on sex alone as well as mutual pining. and felix's sad, kittenlike eyes whenever he's upset.

okay i'm done for now i gotta go clean the kitchen. please enjoy this

[modern-inheritance]

That Galbatorix Won AU that will not be written

I love how like 6-8 or more of yall individual people liked my Galbatorix Won AU post things while those posts also state that y'all are probably never going to see it in full.

Like it's not even fully fleshed out. It's word vomit on a drive doc that I can't really look at right now because the dissociation is real jesus fucking christ. Maybe I SHOULD ask a psychiatrist about this depth of method-writing(???).

I will say this is the gist. There are themes of self deletion, implied nasty things, and it's just not a happy thing really. No reread, we die like women with migraines.

Arya convinces Brom to flee to an unknown location before the Urubaen start. He does so. Galbatorix wins. Eragon eventually snaps in an unexpected way after Arya is broken due to being essentially forced to mercy kill Glenwing after she was subjected to let's just say Galbatorix level abuses on all levels of physical and mental planes and she, mute and carrying around her dead Battle Mate's arm, nonverbally asks Eragon to kill her to end this, as she's being used to hurt the people she loves and her continued existence is more harmful than good.

Eragon's snap is to use formless magic to essentially separate Arya, as a whole, from the magic of the Ancient Language. Don't ask me how nor the repercussions in full. But she is essentially 'dead' to magic. Galbatorix cannot use the name of names now to have hold over her and what she does and can't even scry her. She cannot cast magic, but magic cannot be casted on her either. Spells targeting her do not produce results. She is a void and dead in the eyes of the Ancient Language.

Somehow, don't ask how, Eragon gets Arya out of Uru'baen and naturally forces himself through some fun psych to believe he did indeed kill her. Everyone else believes him.

Arya wears the pieces of Glen's arm. Just wanders Alagaesia until she wanders into the Spine to die. Turns out it wasn't that, it was more mystery forces at work and/or her subconscious thinking that it would be a safe place, and she finds, SURPRISE! Brom living with the Urgals that managed to slip away even further north into the Spine. She's mute, dissociates every couple of hours to just sorta wander off, Claustrophobic/domaphobic so she never goes inside Brom's hut or urgal tents, and still can't even get herself to not bolt backwards if Brom comes within 10 feet of her. She is not the same person Brom saw last. There's bits and pieces of the Arya he knew, but she's unable to hold those pieces together longer than maybe a handful of hours at a time and still can't speak when she does. At most she can touch his hand during those moments, try and mouth words, and write things down in frantic attempts to preserve her sanity and memories of her life before. These moments get longer and longer over time, eventually until she's 'back,' but she never fully regains speech and still has much of her problems with buildings and has to be the one to initiate hugs or walk towards Brom rather than the other way around. She's never again really, truely, the same person.

Brom and Arya convert Riders signs to their own homesign and just start living. Arya frequently hallucinates Glen and 'speaks' with him through sign, spends days staring off hugging her Glenwing-mech-arm encased forearm to her chest, and has lost most of her fight. Brom takes his new mission on as taking care of her, helping her heal and find her fire again, and to once again be the last Old Guard to remember true history rather than Galbatorix's fucked up version.

There is no happy ending. Only Brom and Arya, the way MIC started.

And no, this will not be fully written. Ever. You guys may sometimes get little bits and pieces that will be labeled as such but haha I cannot take the weird fugue/dissociation this version of Arya brings over me and the absolute trauma of losing everything twice and being powerless to stop it that Brom's internal voice brings. Garzvog is cool though. I like this version of him. He's surprisingly nice.

[clarajohnson]

the magicians s1e11

threesome episode aka best episode of television of all time

so we've got the virgo blade and the leo. whole knifey zodiac do we think?

okay this is where i start to see the margo i love dearly. she and eliot are unbelievably reasonable and pragmatic about the deal-striking (also alice. malice 4ever.) and it doesn't read as a lack of emotion to me. particularly for margo it feels like she sees it as a weighing of consequences and she knows it's going to be worse if they don't do this. she's smart and cares about the greater good!

i always forget how gross this show can be until they do something like the classroom death scene.

"i'm just a little shaky, i don't like dying" / "i am fabulous, aren't i?" these women are so the entire world to me.

"i agree with quentin." "that's because he blows you!"

all free trader beowulf scenes make me nervous because i know what's going to happen and it makes me desperately sad

i don't object to the read that julia is "god-touched" but i wouldn't ever accept that as an "explanation" of things i think are part of her inherent character. like, she's smart and talented and hard-working and resilient because she's julia, not because she's god-touched. yes?

"i'm in too. i heard the word illegal."

ah horribly brutal episode poor penny's mentor

"magic missile? that's like straight up dungeons and dragons" me every time i use magic missile playing straight up dungeons and dragons

okay but what do we think q plays in dnd

"what if we got guns?" and q's "no, fillory is a pristine non-industrialized society" prime directive blah blah blah bullshit is so crazy to me. margo is so very, very right. she is SO RIGHT to care about their lives-- even if they wouldn't win that way-- over q's concern for a world that, frankly, he doesn't know is really real, just loves because fillory was his childhood.

there is something deeply funny about the picture they make in julia's doorway-- q and alice and el and margo standing there like a school field trip, which is exactly what you know kady thinks they look like.

i do feel bad for penny! but he picks some shit music to dissociate to!

"giving a shit about somebody you give a shit about doesn't evaporate the second they fuck up."

emotion bottles my beloved

i like that emotions are hot pink. they would be, i think.

i like your sweater. i saw no reason not to share.

unfortunately there is no way in hell that an unfeeling q (and therefore, i have to think, a not-socially-anxious q) would use the phrase "fuck some shit up"

jesus christ in heaven the first few seconds with the emotions back are going to get to me in a major majorrrrrr way. el being perfectly capable of repressing his emotions immediately. (well. sort of.) alice's first impulse being to emphasize that she loves quentin, loves him so much, and q wouldn't have said it back but he can't help saying it back and also telling her that he's all alone. margo asking, in the saddest little baby voice in the world, why aren't we friends anymore, el? everyone here should go to therapy.

poor miraculous julia i love you so much i'm so sorry about everything that's about to happen. very interested in olu calling her her "beautiful daughter." i don't think that's an everyone term and i do think it's fitting that jules gets it.

alice giggling and high-fiving penny and hugging him... best girl in history.

also it's kind of nuts that you can't use your emotions in battle magic. like, that's the implication. and it seems like the inverse to what i would have expected.

they walk through margo's bedroom door and i am seated popcorn and an icee

there's this thing about you, q. you actually believe in magic. we all know it's real but you believe in it.

do we actually believe that margo's never loved something like that? i'm not really inclined to say that. honestly. just don't buy it.

eliot waugh man with the longest arms in the world

yes i do consider the threesome a kind of church service and yes i think it is deeply deeply awful, the consequences of that act for alice. how selfish and unthinking q was in that moment, even tho he is my beautiful baby son, it just kills me thinking about his willingness to do something like that despite the impact on alice.

YOU EVER THINK ABOUT HOW QUENTIN WAS THE ONE WHO KISSED ELIOT

[gatekeeper-watchman]

Daily Devotionals for March 18, 2024

Proverbs: God's Wisdom for Daily Living

Devotional Scripture:

Proverbs 11:29-31:(KJV): 29 He that troubleth his own house shall inherit the wind: and the fool shall be a servant to the wise of heart. 30 The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life, and he that winneth souls is wise. 31 Behold, the righteous shall be recompensed in the earth: much more the wicked and the sinner.

Thought for the Day

Verse 29 - Proverbs could be called a basic training manual for good relationships, providing incentives to live harmoniously with others. Selfishness is at the root of family break-ups. People can be so mean and irresponsible that even a family's natural love cannot endure it. Those who use and abuse their families eventually find that they will have nothing to do with them. Their inheritance will be as insubstantial as the wind. God meant for the family unit to be blessed and unified, not cursed and divided.

The last half of this verse tells us that those who are fools will end up serving those who are wise. In the Old Testament, the word for "fool" usually refers to one who is sinful, rebellious, and practices folly. The foolish are irresponsible and careless. Because of these traits, they are not able to obtain a good position in this life and they end up working in a servant capacity. This is not to say that servant jobs are inferior. Many successful businessmen and women took servant jobs so that they could go to college, which made it possible for them to obtain better jobs. Others worked their way from the bottom of a company until they were promoted to the top. Hard work is something that a fool will avoid since his aim is for immediate gratification. That is why he will never attain a better status but will have to be under someone else's supervision as a servant.

Verse 30 - As the fruit of the tree of life in the Garden of Eden gave eternal life, so the fruit of the Spirit in a Christian's life should lead others to eternal life in Christ. Each of us is an influence for good or evil - the choice is ours. If everyone claiming to be a Christian truly lived according to Christ's commands, we could quickly win the whole world for Christ. It breaks God's heart to see His children behave like unbelievers. He desires that we be "fishers of men." If we are wise, we will make soul-winning a priority in our lives (Daniel 12:3). We can do this by praying for and witnessing to those who do not know Christ and by supporting ministries that do so.

Verse 31 - Because we reap what we sow, we do not have to wait until we get to heaven to receive rewards. By sowing righteousness, we shall have rewards in this life as well as in heaven. One of heaven's greatest rewards will be meeting those for whom we prayed or helped lead to Christ. Every soul whom we lead to Christ will be eternally grateful for our witness. This should inspire us to pray, witness, and give.

Prayer Devotional for the Day

Dear heavenly Father, thank you to those who have prayed for me over the years. Although I may not know many of the people whom You have had to pray for me, I am thankful for those prayers, and I know that I may meet these same people in heaven. Help us all to be faithful in interceding for others who may be needing special prayer this very day. What a wonderful privilege to pray for others. Increase our prayer life, as this is the way You have designed to channel blessings to the earth. Prayer is an act of love, so may I love others today in this manner. Bless Your faithful saints who have prayed and stood in faith to see their family members come safely home to heaven to be with You. I ask this in the blessed holy name of Jesus. Amen. Steven P. Miller

[marvellousinternethideout]

Buffy the vampire Slayer.

Season 2

Ep 7 - Lie to me

Please don't kill the kid, I hate it. Leave the kids alone

Drusilla and angel... Do they have a past? Interesting.

Oh for fuck sake! Not again! Why does buffy walks in the worst time ever. Now its angel and Drusilla. Great.

Sometimes Cordelia needs to shut up. Girl, just don't.

A new guy, billy ford, buffy's giant 5th-grade crush. Welp he's either gonna be our new fav guy or die in this episode.

Lmao Xander, you are funny. Also, willow that song is not about fat guys.

Jealousy jealousy all around. Tension all around here. Angel jealous, love it.

Ford knows everything. What do you mean you know about vampire and that she's the slayer!? WTF MAN!

He's a bad guy, I am sure of it. He's a vampire, maybe...? Or he wants to be one...?

Awww, angel is jealous. I love men get jealous in shows or books.

I love awkward mess willow. She's me and I love it.

Dont trust the ford guy. I know he's cute buffy but cute guys are trouble. Stick to women.

Spike and drusilla/drusilla's relationship is creepy .

This ford guy is totally crazy and dumb. Wanna be a vampire, just die.

Jesus Angel is dramatic, "Do you love me?", "maybe you shouldn't ", just shut up.

Jesus fucking Christ, Angel. What he did to Drusilla is pure evil. Poor girl. I hope she gets to torture and kill him. Wtf man.

Xander: "Angel was in your room?", Willow:- "Ours is a forbidden love". God I love willow. She's my favorite .

Man, buffy really has the worst taste in men. None of them are good. Angel(his fucked up past), billy ford, the creepy cemetery guy, the college guy who was a reptile worshipper and in sacrifice cult. Girl, maybe get some therapy at this point,.

Spike is kinda hot and I think I need some therapy now.

Oh OH, this ford guy is max from Rosewell(or whatever it's called), the one with insane chemistry between him and Liz. Lmao, never watched the show but I've watched gif's of them making out, which are...something 🤤🙈

Buffy for the win again.

Spike is gonna kill ford isn't he? Poor guy should've stayed in the Rosewell universe.

I kinda feel bad that ford he died. Poor guy was crazy.

I like this little moment between buffy and giles. It's emotional, raw and real.

B:- "does it get easy", G:- "what, life", B:- "yes", G:- "what do you want me to say", B:- "lie to me". Damn, I don't know why but it got me.

The last scene between giles and buffy, in the end, got me. I mean this show is pretty heavy and emotional at the times but I feel like it's gonna get much more from here.

Also, the "lie to me", episode title. Perfect for this episode. The theme of this episode was literally "lie to me", the conflict, the delusions, denials, characters lying to themselves. Ford, buffy, Giles, angel, all of them lying to themselves in different ways. Their pain and turmoil. Perfect.

Alright, another solid episode. Honestly, other than one or maybe two episodes, I've been pretty much invested in the show and haven't got bored at all.

I loved this episode. Little more sneek peek in angel's past, and drusilla and damn her past broke me, poor girl. Honestly she can go on a killing spree and I wouldn't blame her, the girl has been through hell. Angel ruined her life because he became obsessed with her? Fuck you angel.

Not sure how I feel about ford, he was a one episode guy so no attachment but like dude just die. It's kinda sad he spiralled that far away.

I really need more angel, I am not gonna lie, he doesn't even feel like a character to me anymore. It's weird how little or Barely he is in the show. I know he has his own show but I don't wanna watch that because ain't no way I am putting myself through cordelia and angel bullshit.

A really great ending to the episode, really liked that they touched on Buffy's emotional turmoil, even if it's briefly.

I guess that's all, loved the episode. Not much xander in it, it was more buffy and angel focus and angels past which included drusilla. Someone needs to get her justice because poor girl.

Anyway, see ya in the next one. Cheers 🥂

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

He Ever Liveth a prayer by Charles Spurgeon

Our God, we come to Thee by Jesus Christ who has gone within the veil on our behalf and ever liveth to make intercession for us. Our poor prayers could never reach Thee were it not for Him, but His hands are full of sweet perfume which makes our pleading sweet with Thee. His blood is sprinkled on the Mercy Seat and now we know that Thou dost always hear those who approach Thee through that ever blessed name.

We have deeply felt our entire unworthiness even to lift up our eyes to the place where Thine honor dwelleth. Thou hast made us to die to our self-righteousness. We pray now because we have been quickened. We have received a new life and the breath of that life is prayer. We have risen from the dead and we also make intercession through the life which Christ has given us. We plead with the living God with living hearts because He has made us to live.

Our first prayer shall be for those who do not pray. There is an ancient promise of Thine, “I am found of them that sought Me not; I said, Behold Me, behold Me, to a people that were not a people.” Prove the sovereignty of Thy grace, the priority of Thy power, which runs before the will of man, by making many willing in this the day of Thy power, and calling the things that are not as though they were. May the day come in which they that are in their graves shall hear the voice of God and they that hear shall live.

How very often Thou shewest Thy mighty power. O Lord, we bless Thee that the voice of God has called many to Christ. Those that are hardened have felt a softness stealing over their spirits. Those who were careless have been compelled to sit down and think. Those that were wrapped up in earthly things have been compelled to think of eternal things and thinking, have been disturbed and driven to despair, but afterwards led to Thee, even to Thee, dear Savior, who wast lifted high upon the cross that by Thy death sinners might live.

But, Lord, we next would pray that Thine own people should know somewhat of the quickening of the Spirit of God. Lord, we thank Thee for the very least life to God, for the feeblest ray of faith and glimmering of hope. We are glad to see anything of Christ in any man, but Thou hast come, O Savior, not only that we might have life, but that we might have it more abundantly, so our prayer is that there may be abundance of life.

O make Thy people strong in the Lord, in the power of His might. Lord, we find when we walk close with God that we have no desire for the world. When we get away altogether from the things that are seen and temporal, and live upon the invisible and eternal, then we shall have angels’ food. Nay, better than that, the food of Christ Himself, for his flesh is meat indeed and His blood is drink indeed. Then have we meat to eat that the world knoweth not of. We pray Thee raise all our brothers and sisters in Christ into the high and heavenly frame of mind in which they shall be in the world and not be of it. Whether they have little or much of temporal things, may they be rich in Thee and full of joy in the Holy Ghost, and so be blessed men and women.

We pray for some of Thine own people who seem to be doing very little for Thee. Lord, have mercy upon those whose strength runs towards the world and who give but little of their strength to the spread of the Gospel and the winning of souls. O let none of us fritter away our existence. May we begin to live since Christ hath died. May we reckon that because He died, we died to all the world, and because He lives, we live in newness of life. Lord, we thank Thee for that newness of life.

We praise Thy name for a new heaven and a new earth. We bless Thee that we now see what we never saw before and hear what we never heard before. Oh! that we might enter into the very secret place of this inner life. May we have as much grace as can be obtained. May we become perfect after the manner of Thy servant Paul, but still press forward, seeking still to be more and more conformed to the image of Christ.

Lord, make us useful. Oh! let no believer live to himself. May we be trying to bring others to Christ. May our servants, and work-people, and neighbors all know where we live, and if they do not understand the secret of that life, yet may they see the fruit of that life and may they ask, “What is this?” and inquire their way to Christ that they may be sanctified too. O Lord, we pray Thee visit Thy Church. May none of us imagine that we are living aright unless we are bringing others to the cross. Oh! keep us from worldliness. Keep us much in prayer. Keep us with the light of God shining on our forehead. May we be a happy people, not because screened from affliction, but because we are walking in the light of God.

Again we offer prayer for the many efforts that are scattered abroad today. May they be good wherever they are. We pray for all churches. Lord, revive them all. Wherever Christ is preached, may it be proved that He draws all men unto Him. May the preaching of Christ today be peculiarly efficacious. Oh! that Thou wouldst raise up many that would preach Christ, simply, boldly, and with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven. Send us better days. Send us days of refreshing from the presence of the Lord.

Lord, shake the earth with the power of God. Oh! that the heathen lands may hear the Word of God and live. But first convert the Church and then Thou wilt convert the world. Oh! deal with those that depart from the faith and grieve Thy Holy Spirit. Bring them back again to their first love and may Christ be fully and faithfully preached everywhere to the glory of His name. Now forgive us every iniquity. Now lift us beyond the power of every sin. Now lift us to pray and praise. Now make the home full of sacred power and last of all, come, Lord Jesus. This is the great wish of our souls. Even so, come quickly, come quickly, Lord Jesus. Amen and Amen.