#angry cripple alert

[giantkillerjack]

You shouldn't get a wheelchair, walker, cane, shower chair, or any kind of assistive technology mobility aid because then you might become dependent on them. Just like how you also shouldn't get glasses if you have bad eyesight because then you might become dependent on those.

For instance, if you end up stuck using corrective eyewear, you could actually lose your ability to tell what things are even when they are extremely blurry! You need to get used to having migraines from seeing unclearly because if you wear glasses all the time, you are basically giving up!! You don't need to see things coming at you from far away! You just need to get good at dodging, and if you can't, then you have no one to blame but yourself!!

For example, I read a really heart-worming article recently about a girl who was stuck using glasses - just absolutely, tragically trapped in her eyewear from dawn to dusk, even though she was good and never ever complained; and I heard she trained herself to discern the blurry faces of her loved ones with 60% accuracy! - she was even able to walk down the aisle at her wedding WITHOUT forcing the discomfort of seeing a woman in glasses on all her guests!!

Sure, she had to give her vows with a splitting headache, and she couldn't see her husband's expression when he said "I do," but overall, SO inspi-ration-al!!! So up-lifting!!

(She didn't even have to use a seeing eye cane, which would have been the worst-case scenario, obviously, because she worked hard to make sure she looked LESS disabled, not MORE disabled!!! Everyone knows blind people exist solely to be a cautionary tale to sighted people!!)

Also, did you know some people get glasses when they only need them a little bit?? How selfish of them! Sure, there's not a shortage, and an increase in demand would result in overall increased accessibility to glasses--but emotionally it's like taking glasses away from someone who needs them more! After all, if everyone who needed glasses got them, then...... um...... more people would have glasses! Which is probably bad!!!!

I also had a friend who was trapped in glasses who saved up all her money for laser eye surgery, and I don't know why everyone doesn't just do that! Sure, some doctors say some people don't "qualify" and it "won't help" those people, but that's why you can't give up!! You don't want to be one of those people!

After all, what's the worse thing that could happen with an unnecessary laser surgery to the face that comes with crippling debt??? It's worth the risk to gain your FREEDOM back, and I'm so proud of my friend!!

Tragically, she did die later that year while driving Uber and squinting at street signs, but at least now I know my friend is finally free from the shackles of her terrible eyesight. #ripAshley #rippedAshley #justripit 😌😌😌❤😇😇😇

And that's why you shouldn't get used to using a mobility aid!! Because, like glasses, they are inherently embarrassing to be seen with; and - like glasses - it is more noble to silently suffer than to depend on unnatural technologies that force you to rely on them!!! (Besides, everyone else will be SO much more comfortable if you look normal!)

I hope you learned something today. 💖

[hold-on-a-little-longer-whump]

If you're still accepting asks about whump tropes...

What about Parting Words Regret trope? That's when two characters get into an argument, one leaves, only for something terrible happen to them (did they get killed? Kidnapped? Disappeared without a trace???) and the other character feels guilty over their last words. If only they hadn't said such harsh things to their friend... then they would still be here.

Makes me cry every time. Such a good trope.

-- @whumperofworlds

Ahh @whumperofworlds the emotional whump. You've gotta love it. A whump story simply isn't complete without it! I can personally relate to this trope, and maybe that's why I like it?? As with all tropes, there's so many different ways it could go. Normally, I'd refer to the characters as Victim and Survivor, but the characters could really be interpreted either way.

Were the words the result of an explosive argument? Were they muttered in complete seriousness, cold eyes locked with surprised, glassy ones? Was it over something petty or mundane that could have been an easy fix?

This is only punctuated further when we see the other character's reaction because oh - oh, that cut deep. When one leaves, is it a quiet, defeated retreat? All slumped shoulders and biting a quivering lip? Are the both of them still yelling as they depart? Does one person snatch up their coat and slam the door? Is one of them frozen, stunned silent by the harsh words, and the other just leaves them there? Do they have family, allies, or friends that witness this exchange? Are sides taken? Is one character completely abandoned as everyone else sides with the other?

Maybe they go for a walk to soothe their frayed nerves. Maybe they immediately try calling their phone, sending texts, leaving voicemails, only to be ignored. Then... then it really sinks in. Was it the Survivor that ignored the calls, or was it the Victim? Either way, it hurts. See, this part is important to me. We, as readers/viewers, need to see how profoundly this exchange affected the Victim before the Event takes place. The deeper the wound, the more agonized the Survivor's regret and guilt is. The readers/viewers can shake their heads in disappointment and can still feel sympathy for the Survivor.

And then it happens. Poof. The Victim is gone. Kidnapped, killed, missing - whatever it was, it happened. Where was the Survivor when they found out? What were they doing? Were they eating (they can't stand the taste of that specific food now) or were they in the middle of an important conversation/task? Were they safely tucked away, sleeping in a comfortable bed, only to be ripped from sleep by someone alerting them to the news? Do they leap into action, all arguments forgotten? Do they freeze up? Do they demand answers?

Give me a normally calm, level-headed Survivor turning into a terrifyingly silent, angry Survivor that launches into a personal mission to avenge/rescue the Victim by any means necessary.

Give me a confident, hothead Survivor turned into a useless, crumpled mess of tears and cries of anguish.

Let's not forget the biggest part though; that part you referred to. The regret. The guilt. The constant stream of whywhywhy's and what if's and if only's in their mind. It's crippling. It nearly breaks them. Maybe it does break them. Unspoken apologies haunt them. Maybe their allies/friends lay blame on them for what happened, or maybe they try to convince the Survivor that it wasn't their fault, that there's nothing anyone could have done - but that doesn't matter because they still said those horrible, horrible things. The last impression they left on the Victim was negative and demeaning and hate-filled and so so so not true. The last memory they have of the Victim is a flushed face and clenched fists and hitched breaths and it's not fair!

Maybe this guilt is the only thing that drives them onward, because they can't let this happen again. They refuse. Never again. No more Victims. They won't make the same mistake twice.

Because it's their fault. Their words drove off the Victim. Words really do hold the most profound power in the world. It's just a pity how easy it is to use them the wrong way.

Also, have this quote that this made me think of. I couldn't find the author's name, but here's a link to the source material :)

"Sometimes, when people leave, I'm seized by a sudden fear that they'll die while they're out, and I'll never forget the last thing I said to them."

[spindrifters]

FUSION DANCE: marginalia and pirates!!! ☠️

genius behavior alert. please keep in mind I'm drinking wine rn. this isn't going to be my finest writing. also, cw for ableist but period accurate language.

He’s in the captain’s quarters, something he wouldn’t have dared a year past, curls drying with salt, and this time Black actually knocks.

“Come in,” he says, and the irony isn’t lost on him. This is, after all, Black’s cabin.

Remus is self-aware enough to know that not even a month ago he wouldn’t have let anyone anywhere near him like this. He definitely wouldn’t have laughed in Black’s face like this, the dread Captain Sirius Black caught ridiculous and adorable, frozen in place with the question half-caught in his lips.

Which is honestly quite fair, really. Remus doesn’t use the cane. Not ever. Not where the men can see him. It’s the wooden leg on deck and the wooden leg only. As quartermaster of the Marauder, it’s his job to act as a liaison between the crew and their captain. To instill confidence, ensure belief that their voice will be heard.

No one looks to a cripple for confidence.

“Er,” says Black.

“Draw a sketch, it’ll last longer,” Remus says wryly, stretching his stump of a leg further out onto the bench. It’s not a pretty sight, he does know that. Raw and red at the bandages, and likely festering beneath. “Mr. Pomfrey’s livid with me for using the wooden leg so often, of course, but it can’t be helped.”

“I see. Is there anything I can… Are you quite well, then?”

Very well, thanks. The answer’s there, ready on his lips before he knows to form the thought, only it catches.

Because unless he’s very much mistaken, Black was about to ask, Is there anything I can do to help?

if you had asked Remus Lupin at age twelve — Welshborn, the son of a moderately successful printer — or age sixteen — press-ganged into His Majesty’s royal navy to atone for his father’s treasonous words — or indeed age twenty — a fresh recruit onto the somewhat less democratic pirate ship Greyback — he’d have balked at the idea. Captain Sirius Black’s reputation preceded him. Black smoke and flaming eyes, the sort of stories he’d never put much stock behind. That doesn’t mean Remus ever imagined he’d be here, now, baring himself vulnerable and realizing Black — Sirius — is the only person he’d ever allow to see him like this.

But Sirius, it turns out, is so much more than the stories. So much more than the angry, disowned lordling Remus had taken him for the first time they’d crossed paths in that Nassau pub. He’s barely thirty himself, for one, a scant few months older than Remus. He’s smart. Educated. Devastatingly witty. Prone to fits of melancholy that Remus can never quite figure out, even as he assures the men their captain is simply deep in the weeds of charting a new course. And above all that — he’s kind. He has a good heart. And he knows as well as Remus what it is to lose everything through no fault but being who you truly are.

So he catches his first instinct, that deep-honed need for self-sufficiency, and grins with a wink. “I wouldn’t say no to some of that fine port I know you’re hoarding in your bottom shelf.”

Sirius stares for a moment, then two, and then he breaks into a smile so dazzling it could outshine the fucking sun.

unusual fic asks

[elliemarchetti]

Elucien Week Day 3 - Bonds

My third entry for @elucienweek2022. I’m starting to feel consistent again.

Previous parts

Elucien Week Day 1 - Masks

Elucien Week Day 2 - Nature

Plot: Lucien finally touches Elain, and although she is only human, the bond between them seems to grow stronger

Words: 1320

Turns out it wasn’t her sister at the gates, but a Puca, another creature who knew the intricacies of her mind better than she did and was going to use them to make her its next meal. Generally, she wouldn’t have been so traumatized, but the thing just revealed Feyre was the person she missed the most and did it right in front of Lucien, who grabbed her by the arm before she could take the last step toward her death. It was the first physical contact she ever had with a Fae, and for a few seconds, she couldn’t take her eyes off that big, calloused hand wrapped around her thin wrist.

“You have to be careful,” he said, forcing Elain to turn her back on the Puca, now transfigured into her father, as crippled and weak as she remembered him. Paying attention, there was indeed a small difference between who was there with her, real and tangible, and the vision behind the gates, but if it wasn’t for the High Fae, who seemed to somehow alert her senses, she probably would’ve never noticed.

“You’re going to tell Tamlin?” she asked, unaware that the High Lord was within earshot, tired and covered with a mixture of sweat and blood. The quarrel ensued from her question was furious, and although Elain had been escorted by Ailis to her room, it wasn’t difficult to hear them scream from the first floor.

“What do you think you’re doing?” snarled Lucien, the only person in the world who seemed not to fear Tamlin’s wrath.

“I should pose you the same question,” retorted the other. Elain realized only from her convenient spot at the window he was bleeding profusely from a wound in his hand. Drops gathered at his feet like seeds, and she almost expected to see delicate rose buds blossom from the ground, and it probably would’ve happened, if he hadn't been so angry. Even if time passed differently in Prythian, it must be said Elain imagined her days would be empty and boring, not so saturated with events that she could barely keep track of them.

“Me?” Lucien yelled, putting a hand on his chest. “For the Cauldron, Tam! There’s not much time left, and all you do is sulk and glare. You don’t even try to pretend anymore!”

“And are you still pretending?” asked the other, hissing like a snake. This seemed to calm the emissary, but now the bank Tamlin erected to keep all thoughts and emotions at bay seemed to have broken, and he vomited word after word, until there was nothing left to say.

“I won’t let her die devoured by a reckless Puca while you spend the rest of your life killing the scum lurking in the woods,” Lucien concluded, and whatever his friend wanted to add, was repressed by an expression Elain couldn’t decipher. After such a scene, she feared Lucien would no longer want her company, since she proved to be such a trouble, but she was wrong: the next afternoon, after her usual bath, he knocked at her door, wearing fine clothes in autumnal colours, something he definitely wasn’t willing to waste on a mere ride, although he gave her free choice about how they would spend their time.

“I’d like to know more about Prythian’s history,” she said, undecided whether to invite him inside or go out in the corridor. Eventually, their little lesson was held in a library with shelves full of books of all sorts, from those illustrated for children to tomes about the art of war. Lucien was patient, and allowed Elain to browse as she wished, then they moved to a large mural she wished she could show to her little sister, who loved this kind of art. The story began with a black cauldron held by slender and luminous female hands in a starry and infinite night, hands pouring its golden and shimmering liquid in the void below, to form a map representing not only the island they were on, but alto the seas and the other continents. Each territory was coloured and marked, some placed with complex and elaborate designs of the beings who once ruled the regions now owned by the humans, in a time, she remembered with a shudder, where the whole world belonged to the Fae, a gift from the Mother above.

“Now our lands are divided differently,” Lucien explained, when he saw her particularly sad. “But in our culture, some things transcend borders and distances.”

Elain would’ve liked to know what he was talking about, but she didn’t dared to ask any further, and the next day she agreed to ride in the west woods, where no trails awaited, only wilderness. She liked it best there, where oaks, elms and birches intertwined tightly, almost stifling the few rays of sunlight penetrating the thick foliage. It was like entering a secret place, where the moss-covered earth muffled the sound of the horses’ hooves and the fresh smell of spring leaves cleared her thoughts, making them crystalline like morning dew. It was there where she finally decreed something happened between her and Lucien on the night they touched. The High Fae seemed to ignore it, and apparently there were no changes in his attitude, yet something obviously happened, and the prolonged silence he was subjecting her to was a simple consequence of the undeniable fact.

“What place is this?” she asked, as the trees gave way to a large grassy clearing, where shining tufts of dandelion fluff floated in the crispy air.

“Do you like it?” asked Lucien, just the hint of a smile to curl his lips upwards. A dull ache hit her chest, and she wondered if the emissary of the High Lord of the Spring Court was really somehow ashamed for not being able to offer her more. Once they left the horses to graze the swaying flocks, they climbed a steep hill on whose summit resided a gleaming silver lake, and Elain had to resist the temptation to dive in with her clothes still on. When she was on the other side of the Wall, she had been a modest girl, and if Tamlin had been in Lucien’s place, things would’ve been very different, but this specific High Fae made her bold, so she undressed slowly, never looking away. It was a strange feeling, being studied so intimately and yet at an adequate distance, leaving no room for misunderstanding, but it was fun to return the favour as he unbuttoned his light shirt, revealing a broad chest and muscular arms, sculpted in centuries of fighting and brutality that must’ve made him very quiet too, as she barely noticed he entered the water until he was close, perhaps too much to be lucid.

“You look upset,” Lucien noted, and Elain bit her lips until they bled, just to shut up her wild thoughts. She had no intention of moving more than she needed to stay afloat, even though her hands almost stung from how strong the desire to touch him was; it was like being tied with a string of thorns, and whatever decision she made, being it squirm away or stand still, would make the pain even more unbearable.

“I’m so ashamed...” she whined, unable to provide a context that wouldn’t take her down a dangerous road. On his part, Lucien seemed fascinated, the russet eye darkening as he nearly brushed her hair with his fingers, making her feel things so deep and unbridled she felt the urge to close her legs shut. Maybe it was all just part of his magic, maybe he stole something from her on the night they faced the Puca and now he was unable, or unwilling, to return it, but Elain was determined to take it back, even at the cost of fighting against the bond they shared and bound them tighter every day.

[crackbabycore]

There is a very specific feeling that you feel in the after. Some brand of sadness that clings to you like some kind of permanent sent, a claim, dried paint (or blood, if you're prone to dramatics) under your fingernails that you can never completely get rid of. Not for the lack of trying, of course.

First year is a lot like every year prior - despair, it's almost like you've never really gotten away, it doesn't matter that no one is there to hit you anymore or get drunk and overly affectionate - the threat still feels imminent, just over the corner, and it doesn't matter that there is a whole city diving you now, it still isn't far enough, it never is.

You always close the door to your room shut, it makes a horrible loud noise every time, and your family doesn't get it, but you never feel safe otherwise. You tense up every time there is a knock too, though it's just your father and he doesn't hit you, he rarely ever yells but everything in you is on high alert anyway. It takes you a year to relearn. It takes two, for you to occasionally forget to close the door when you get back from the kitchen.

When you're not so horribly depressed anymore you get angry - angry at your mother for being the way she was, angry at everyone else for not getting you out sooner. You remember with painful clarity the little girl who prayed every night to all the gods she could remember to get her out, you remember the night you realized no one will. You also remember somewhere along that first year, when you realized you aren't better and cigarettes don't do shit for your crippling anxiety.

But you're in the better now, though it doesn't feel like it most of the time, because you still got the crippling anxiety and the nightmares to match it (always haunting you, always), but you learn to live with it, it got easier with time, when you realized that this is just how life is. And still sometimes, even now, you get these fathom pains in your chest, where despair used to be, and now there is a sadness that's almost wistful in nature, that stems from begrudging acceptance, you think. And this is just how life is.

[yhwhrulz]

Today's Daily Encounter Tuesday, April 23, 2024

No More Excuses

Great peace have those who love your law, and nothing can make them stumble.1

When it comes to spending time in God's Word, there are an abundance of excuses we can come up with to avoid it. The simple thought of reading those ancient words, written in an ancient language is enough to make some dread it before even knowing what they may find within the pages of this Sacred Book. But before we can hope to have an effective prayer life or an incredible worship experience, we must be in The Word, or more importantly, The Word must be in us! Making Bible reading a habit requires intentional discipline; with discipline comes the excuses. Like with anything that requires discipline - exercise, eating healthily, or building any other good habit - we must develop a serious mindset.

Excuses range in variety: "I don't like to read." Lucky for you there are many audio versions of the Bible readily available. "I have a hard time understanding the fancy language of the King James Version." There are numerous translations that make the Bible easy to understand! "I just don't have time!" Technology has given us Bible Apps that can be programmed to alert us with a daily Bible verse. So you see, for every excuse there is a solution!

Jesus often used stories to make it easier for people to understand Salvation, eternal life, and the Kingdom of God; stories that showed parallel — called parables. In one such instance, Jesus wanted us to understand that by making excuses we will miss out on the greatest benefits God has to offer us. He used the following parable: "A certain man was preparing a great banquet and invited many guests. At the time of the banquet he sent his servant to tell those who had been invited, 'Come, for everything is now ready.' "But they all alike began to make excuses. The first said, 'I have just bought a field, and I must go and see it. Please excuse me.' "Another said, 'I have just bought five yoke of oxen, and I'm on my way to try them out. Please excuse me.' "Still another said, 'I just got married, so I can't come.' "The servant came back and reported this to his master. Then the owner of the house became angry and ordered his servant, 'Go out quickly into the streets and alleys of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame.' "'Sir,' the servant said, 'what you ordered has been done, but there is still room.' "Then the master told his servant, 'Go out to the roads and country lanes and compel them to come in, so that my house will be full. I tell you, not one of those who were invited will get a taste of my banquet.'"2

God's Word is filled with promises and blessings we can benefit from. When we make excuses that keep us from God and His Word, He will give those blessings to someone else. Are you willing to lose out on God's Great Banquet because of an excuse? There is no time like the present to pick up God's Word. No more Excuses!

Suggested Prayer: Lord, Your Word is Your Love Letter to us. Every Word was directly inspired by you. Please give me the desire to pick up Your Word and enjoy the Feast You have prepared for me. In Jesus' name, Amen.

Psalms 119:165 (NIV).

Luke 14:16-24.

Today's Encounter was written by: Veronica B.

NOTE: If you would like to accept God's forgiveness for all your sins and His invitation for a full pardon Click on: http://www.actsweb.org/invitation.php. Or if you would like to re-commit your life to Jesus Christ, please click on http://www.actsweb.org/decision.php to note this.

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When copying or forwarding include the following: "Daily Encounter by Richard (Dick) Innes (c) 2005-2023 ACTS International

[skylarkking]

Rant alert because I have nowhere to scream except the void. It begins under the cut

Warning: lots of swears and angry goblin ranting

God fucking dammit my fucking room fucking flooded because whoever the fuck designed this shit clearly has brain damage! whoever fucking thought it was a brilliant idea to fucking build a shower without a catch thing to make sure it doesn't fucking flood the God damn bathroom??? And who the fuck puts the shower head on the long part of the fucking wall???? The same fucking wall that faces opposite of the mother fucking door???

Oh oh and here's the mother fucking God damn kicker, all the dorms gave a call button for emergencies and I pressed mine 4 mother fucking times trying to get in contact with someone while looking like a rat that was fished out of a river and NO ONE ANSWERED AT ALL!

Ooooo they better PREPARE for my crippled ass in the morning because I am going full passive aggressive on their asses.

"Hey, who do I talk to about getting my intercom fixed because surely dorm staff wouldn't ignore a student calling for help or anything, especially a student who is on a weight restriction and has neurological problems. I mean, surely the intercom was not connecting because who would ignore 4 calls for help, am I right?"

They better hope that Neptune doesn't curse their bath towels with the sea of despair for ignoring the cries of the drowned.

Rant over. Good fucking night.

[trinity-mia]

a story as endless as the ocean

the lightning thief

1.5 las vegas' most normal hotel and casino

warnings : animal abuse, casinos, cussing, allie gets sexualized

word count : 5.1k

1.5 If I Were to Let Temptation Control Me Just a Little Bit More, the Entire World Would've Ended 

The war god was waiting for us in the diner parking lot.

"Well, well," he drawled. "You didn't get yourself killed."

"You knew it was a trap," I accused, glaring venomously at him.

Ares gave me a wicked grin. "Bet that crippled blacksmith was surprised when he netted a couple of stupid kids. You looked good on TV."

"I always look good on T.V. And movie screens. And magazines. And large stages," I bit back. "Why do you think Hollywood has kept me around so long?"

Luke shoved his shield at him. "You're a jerk."

I grabbed his arm, a silent warning, and Grover gulped but Ares just smirked. He grabbed the shield and spun it in the air like pizza dough. It changed form, melting into a bulletproof vest. Then he slung it across his back.

"See that truck over there?" He pointed to an eighteen-wheeler parked across the street from the diner. "That's your ride. Take you straight to L.A., with one stop in Vegas."

The eighteen-wheeler had a sign on the back, which I could read only because it was reverse-printed white on black, a good combination for dyslexia: KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL: HUMANE ZOO TRANSPORT. WARNING: LIVE WILD ANIMALS.

My head snapped back around to stare incredulously at him. "You're kidding. I'd rather do the whole raise-my-hand in Walmart tactic."

Ares snapped his fingers. The back door of the truck unlatched. "I just gave you a free ride west, punkette. Stop complaining. And here's a little something for doing the job."

He slung a blue nylon backpack off his handlebars and tossed it to me. Inside were fresh clothes for all of us, a pouch full of golden drachmas, and a bag of Double Stuf Oreos.

"We don't want your lousy—" Luke began hotly.

"Thank you, Lord Ares," Grover interrupted, giving us both his best red-alert warning look. I wasn't really against the arrogant deity getting told exactly what this little thing called reality was, but Grover wasn't as suicidal as Luke and I apparently were. Maybe it was a demigod thing. We knew we'd probably die before turning twenty so we amputated our survival instincts.

"Thanks, bub."

I gritted my teeth. It was probably a deadly insult to refuse something from a god, but I didn't want anything that Ares had touched. Reluctantly, I slung the backpack over my other shoulder, succeeding only in making myself look stupid with two backpacks.

I knew my anger was being caused by the war god's presence, but I was still itching to punch him in the nose. He reminded me of every bully I'd ever faced: Nathan Bobofit, Gabe, random dudes on the streets anywhere I went who would catcall me, the gross people on the internet.

I looked back at the diner, which had only a couple of customers now. The waitress who'd served us dinner was watching nervously out the window, like she was afraid Ares might hurt us. She dragged the fry cook out from the kitchen to see. She said something to him. He nodded, held up a little disposable camera and snapped a picture of us. I could've turned away, but I put on my best terrified look and stared right into that camera's lens.

"Thanks," I turned from terrified to angry in half a second, thanking Danny for all those years of forcing me to perfect my facial expressions.

Ares smirked at me, fiery eyes flickering over me with a familiar look. I shifted uncomfortably. "I'll see you around Punkette," he declared, slinging his leg over his overly-large bike. "Never know, what with your looks, give it two months and maybe I'll sweep you off your feet once you become legal."

I choked in shock, while Grover grabbed onto Luke who had started forward with a furious expression. Ares gave a dark laugh and sped off, dust being kicked up behind him.

"That no-good, sonova—" Luke began to snarl as soon as Ares was gone.

"Yeah, no kidding," I agreed darkly, remembering all of the other grown men who'd said that to me and feeling the need to claw my own skin off. "I can't believe—"

"Uh, guys," Grover cut in anxiously. "I hate to interrupt but."

He pointed toward the diner. At the register, the last two customers were paying their check, two men in identical black coveralls, with a white logo on their backs that matched the one on the KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL truck.

"If we're taking the zoo express," Grover said, "we need to hurry."

I didn't like it, but we had no better option and after that crap, I didn't want to test what might actually happen if we refused the ride. The next train wasn't until tomorrow night and it took too long. Besides, I'd seen enough of Denver. We ran across the street and climbed in the back of the big rig, closing the doors behind us.

The first thing that hit me was the smell. It was like the world's biggest pan of kitty litter. I felt like I was going to throw up from it. But the smell wasn't half as disgusting as the sight of the inside.

The trailer was dark inside until I brought out Riptide. The blade cast a faint bronze light over a very sad scene. Sitting in a row of filthy metal cages were three of the most pathetic zoo animals I'd ever beheld: a zebra, a male albino lion, and some weird antelope thing I didn't know the name for.

Someone had thrown the lion a sack of turnips, which he obviously didn't want to eat. The zebra and the antelope had each gotten a Styrofoam tray of hamburger meat. The zebra's mane was matted with chewing gum, like somebody had been spitting on it in their spare time. The antelope had a stupid silver birthday balloon tied to one of his horns that read OVER THE HILL!

Apparently, nobody had wanted to get close enough to the lion to mess with him, but the poor thing was pacing around on soiled blankets, in a space way too small for him, panting from the stuffy heat of the trailer. He had flies buzzing around his pink eyes and his ribs showed through his white fur.

I put my hand over my mouth in horror at the brutal scene.

"This is kindness?" Grover yelled. "Humane zoo transport?"

He probably would've gone right back outside to beat up the truckers with his reed pipes, and I would've helped him, but just then the truck's engine roared to life, the trailer started shaking, and we were forced to sit down or fall down.

We huddled in the corner on some mildewed feed sacks, trying to ignore the smell and the heat and the flies. Grover talked to the animals in a series of goat bleats, but they just stared at him sadly. We were all in favor of breaking the cages and freeing them on the spot, but I reluctantly pointed out it wouldn't do much good until the truck stopped moving. Besides, I had a feeling we might look a lot better to the lion than those turnips.

I found a water jug, used my powers to remove the dirt and refilled their bowls, then used Riptide to drag the mismatched food out of their cages. I gave the meat to the lion and split the turnips between the zebra and the antelope.

Grover calmed the antelope down, while I used a throwing knife to cut the balloon off his horn. I wanted to cut the gum out of the zebra's mane, too, but we decided that would be too risky with the truck bumping around. We told Grover to promise the animals we'd help them more in the morning, then we settled in for the night.

Grover curled up on a turnip sack; Luke opened our bag of Double Stuf Oreos and started to nibble on one half-heartedly; meanwhile, I tried to cheer myself up by concentrating on the fact that we were halfway to Los Angeles. Halfway to our destination. It was only June fourteenth. The solstice wasn't until the twenty-first. We could make it in plenty of time.

On the other hand, I had no idea what to expect next. The gods kept toying with me. At least Hephaestus had the decency to be honest about it— he'd put up cameras and advertised me as entertainment. But even when the cameras weren't rolling, I had a feeling my quest was being watched. I was a source of amusement for the gods. And though that was essentially what I was made for, especially in the eyes of the internet, I wasn't being paid for this type of forced entertainment. 

After a few minutes, Grover started to snore, and I marveled enviously at his ability to fall asleep so easily. We rode in silence for a few miles, bumping around on the feed sacks. The zebra munched a turnip. The lion licked the last of the hamburger meat off his lips and looked at me hopefully.

Luke rubbed his necklace like he was deep in thought.

"That pine-tree bead," I said, breaking our silence. "Is that from your first year?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Every August, the counselors pick the most important event of the summer, and they paint it on that year's beads. I've got Thalia's pine tree, a Greek trireme on fire, a centaur in a prom dress— now that was a weird summer..."

"I need to hear that story at some point," I grinned. I reached up to touch my locket. Luke's gaze followed my movement.

"It's a family heirloom," I explained. My eyes went to his scar and I chewed on my lip, debating whether to ask about it or not.

Luke realized what I was looking at and sighed, pulling me to rest my head on his shoulder.

"My mother has mental issues," he revealed. "She gets these fits and I ended up running away when I was nine. Met Thalia a while later. Annabeth a few months after that. Before we met Grover, Thalia got badly hurt while we were near my house, so we ended up going there to patch her up. Hermes was there, and he told me after I got to Camp, he would organize a quest for me. And he did. I was assigned to steal the Apples of Immortality from the Garden of the Hesperides. I got my scar from Ladon, the dragon who guards the tree. Not very interesting really." He cleared his throat. "How does it feel being one of the most well-known names in the world?" 

I got the hint and let him change the subject, telling him any story about my career that came to mind. 

Soon enough, the rocking of the van and the thumping of Luke's heart in my ear let me drift off into sleep.

My nightmare started out as something I'd dreamed a million times before: Walking around the streets of Manhattan, getting catcalled. I'd keep my head held high and didn't say anything, but on the inside, I felt terrified.

Then the dream strayed from the usual.

I looked over to my side and a girl was there, walking with me. She was my age, with unruly black, punk-style hair, dark eyeliner around her electric blue eyes, and freckles across her nose. Somehow, I knew who she was. She was Thalia, daughter of Zeus.

She glared and flipped off a few guys, got frustrated, and snapped, "Well, Kelp Head? One of us has to get out of here."

She's right, my dream-self thought. I'm going back to that cavern. I'm going to give The Voice a piece of my mind.

The voices didn't stop, but I fell through the sidewalk. The catcaller's voices changed until it was cold and evil, echoing from the depths of a great chasm.

"Astraea Jackson," it said. "Yes, the exchange went well, I see."

I was back in the dark cavern, spirits of the dead drifting around me. Unseen in the pit, the monstrous thing was speaking, but this time it wasn't addressing me. The numbing power of its voice seemed directed somewhere else.

"And she suspects nothing?" it asked.

Another voice, one I almost recognized, answered at my shoulder. "Nothing, my lord. She is as ignorant as the rest."

I looked over, but no one was there. The speaker was invisible.

"Deception upon deception," the thing in the pit mused aloud. "Excellent." He said it in that sinister movie villain way. You know, egg-sal-lent.

"Truly, my lord," said the voice next to me, "You are well-named the Crooked One. But was it really necessary? I could have brought you what I stole directly—"

"You?" the monster said in scorn. "You have already shown your limits. You would have failed me completely had I not intervened."

"But, my lord—"

"Peace, little servant. Our six months have bought us much. Zeus's anger has grown. Poseidon has played his most desperate card. Now we shall use it against him. Shortly you shall have the reward you wish, and your revenge. As soon as both items are delivered into my hands... but wait. She is here."

"What?" The invisible servant suddenly sounded tense. "You summoned her, my lord?"

"No." The full force of the monster's attention was now pouring over me, freezing me in place. "Blast her father's blood— she is too strong-willed, too unpredictable. The girl brought herself here."

"Impossible!" the servant cried.

I need to wake up, I thought, feeling The Voice 'turn' towards me. Now! My eyes snapped open, and I gasped frantically for breath as my adrenaline crashed.

"The truck's stopped," Grover warned me. "We think they're coming to check on the animals."

"Hide!" Luke hissed. He had it easy. He just put on Annabeth's magic cap and disappeared. Grover and I had to dive behind feed sacks and hope we looked like turnips. At the same time, if someone ever dared to compare me to a vegetable, they'd get to Hades the quick way. 

The trailer doors creaked open. Sunlight and heat poured in.

"Man!" one of the truckers said, waving his hand in front of his ugly nose. "I wish I hauled appliances." He climbed inside and poured some water from a jug into the animals' dishes.

"You hot, big boy?" he asked the lion, then splashed the rest of the bucket right in the lion's face.

The lion roared in indignation.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the man said.

Next to me, under the turnip sacks, Grover tensed. For a peace-loving herbivore, he looked downright murderous. In fairness to him though, I would happily have held them down while he bludgeoned them both to death with his pipes. It seemed like a good way for them to die.

The trucker threw the antelope a squashed-looking Happy Meal bag. He smirked at the zebra. "How ya doin', Stripes? Least we'll be getting rid of you this stop. You like magic shows? You're gonna love this one. They're gonna saw you in half!" Sick, twisted, disgusting bastard.

The zebra, wild-eyed with fear, looked straight at me.

There was no sound, but as clear as day, I heard it say: Free me, My Lady. Please.

I was too stunned to react.

There was a loud knock, knock, knock on the side of the trailer.

The trucker inside with us yelled, "What do you want, Eddie?" Always knew I hated that name.

A voice outside— it must've been Eddie's— shouted back, "Maurice? What'd ya say?"

"What are you banging for?"

Knock, knock, knock.

Our guy Maurice rolled his eyes and went back outside, cursing at Eddie for being an idiot.

A second later, Luke appeared next to me. He must've done the banging to get Maurice out of the trailer.

"This transport business can't be legal," he declared. I nodded in agreement.

"No kidding," Grover said. He paused, as if listening. "The lion says these guys are animal smugglers!"

That's right, the zebra's voice said in my mind.

"We've got to free them!" Grover said. He and Luke both looked at me, waiting for my lead. I stayed calm on the outside, but inside my thoughts were racing by too fast to process them properly.

I'd heard the zebra talk, but not the lion. Why? Maybe it was another learning disability... I could only understand zebras? Then I thought: horses. Hadn't Poseidon created horses? Was a zebra close enough to a horse? Was that why I could understand it?

The zebra said, Open my cage, My Lady. Please. I'll be fine after that.

Outside, Eddie and Maurice were still yelling at each other, but I knew they'd be coming inside to torment the animals again any minute. I grabbed Riptide and slashed the lock off the zebra's cage.

The zebra burst out. It turned to me and bowed. Thank you, My Lady. If Luke or Grover found this weird, they didn't find time to say. 

Grover held up his hands and said something to the zebra in goat talk, like a blessing.

Just as Maurice was poking his head back inside to check out the noise, the zebra leaped over him and into the street. There was yelling and screaming and cars honking. We rushed to the doors of the trailer in time to see the zebra galloping down a wide boulevard lined with hotels and casinos and neon signs. We'd just released a zebra in Las Vegas.

At least he wouldn't stand out.

Maurice and Eddie ran after it, with a few policemen running after them, shouting, "Hey! You need a permit for that!"

"Now would be a good time to leave," I said as I snatched up my bag, Luke grabbing Ares' one.

"The other animals first," Grover insisted.

Luke and I cut the locks. Then Grover raised his hands and spoke the same goat-blessing he'd used for the zebra.

"Good luck," I told the animals. The antelope and the lion burst out of their cages and went off together into the streets.

Some tourists screamed. Most just backed off and took pictures, probably thinking it was some kind of stunt by one of the casinos.

"Will the animals be okay?" I asked Grover. "I mean, the desert and all—"

"Don't worry," he said. "I placed a satyr's sanctuary on them."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning they'll reach the wild safely," he said. "They'll find water, food, shade, whatever they need until they find a safe place to live."

"Why can't you place a blessing like that on us?" I asked.

"It only works on wild animals."

"That sucks," I complained.

"Cheer up, Angel," Luke said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Come on. Let's get out of this piece of shit."

We stumbled out into the desert afternoon. It was a hundred and ten degrees, easy, and we must've looked like deep-fried vagrants, but everybody was too interested in the wild animals to pay us much attention.

We passed the Monte Carlo and the MGM. We passed pyramids, a pirate ship, and the Statue of Liberty, which was a pretty small replica, but it still made me homesick.

I wasn't sure what we were looking for. Maybe just a place to get out of the heat for a few minutes, find a sandwich and a glass of lemonade, make a new plan for getting west.

We must have taken a wrong turn, because we found ourselves at a dead-end, standing in front of the Lotus Hotel and Casino. The entrance was a huge neon flower, the petals lighting up and blinking. No one was going in or out, but the glittering chrome doors were open, spilling out air-conditioning that smelled like flowers— lotus blossom, maybe. I'd never smelled one, so I wasn't sure.

The doorman smiled at us. "Hey, kids. You look tired. You want to come in and sit down?"

I was always wary of strangers, but I'd become full-on paranoid in the past week or so. I figured anybody might be a monster or a god. You just couldn't tell. But this guy was normal. One look at him, and I could see. Besides, I was so relieved to hear somebody who sounded sympathetic that I nodded and said we'd love to come in. Inside, we took one look around, and Grover said, "Whoa."

The whole lobby was a giant game room. And I'm not talking about cheesy old Pac-Man games or slot machines. There was an indoor waterslide snaking around the glass elevator, which went straight up at least fifty floors. There was a climbing wall on the side of one building, and an indoor bungee-jumping bridge. There were virtual-reality suits with working laser guns. And hundreds of video games, each one the size of a widescreen TV.

Basically, you name it, this place had it. There were a few other kids playing, but not that many. No waiting for any of the games. There were waitresses and snack bars all around, serving every kind of food you can imagine.

"Hey!" a bellhop said. At least I guessed he was a bellhop. He wore a white-and-yellow Hawaiian shirt with lotus designs, shorts, and flip-flops. "Welcome to the Lotus Casino. Here's your room key."

I stammered, "Um, but..."

"No, no," he waved me off, laughing. "The bill's taken care of. No extra charges, no tips. Just go on up to the top floor, room 44001. If you need anything, like extra bubbles for the hot tub, or skeet targets for the shooting range, or whatever, just call the front desk. Here are your LotusCash cards. They work in restaurants and on all the games and rides."

He handed us each a green plastic credit card.

I knew there must be some mistake. Maybe they thought I'd already paid. Maybe Danny had called ahead and booked us a room? I convinced myself he had, "How much is on here?"

His eyebrows knit together. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when does it run out of cash?"

He laughed. "Oh, you're making a joke. Hey, that's cool. Enjoy your stay."

We took the elevator upstairs and checked out our room. It was a suite with three separate bedrooms and a bar stocked with candy, sodas, and chips. A hotline to room service. Fluffy towels and water beds with feather pillows. A big-screen television with satellite and high-speed Internet.

The balcony had its own hot tub, and sure enough, there was a skeet-shooting machine and a shotgun, so you could launch clay pigeons right out over the Las Vegas skyline and plug them with your gun. I didn't see how that could be legal, but I thought it was pretty cool looking. The view over the Strip and the desert were amazing, though I doubted we'd ever find time to look at the view with a room like this for the rest of the quest.

"Oh, gods," Luke breathed, slack-jawed. "This place is..."

"Sweet," Grover said. "Absolutely sweet."

There were clothes in the closet— all designer— and they fit me. I frowned, thinking that this was a little strange. Then I shrugged and I threw Ares' backpack in the trash can. Wouldn't need that anymore. When we left, I could just buy more supplies at the hotel store. I went ahead and shoved all of the clothes and shoes into my bag, certain Danny had called ahead and told them to prepare everything for our stay and had paid for them all then.

I took a shower, which felt awesome after a week of grimy travel. I changed clothes into a vintage Chanel top and skirt, ate a bag of chips, drank two waters and a coffee, and came out feeling better than I had in a long time. In the back of my mind, a small problem kept nagging me. I'd had a dream or something... I needed to talk to my friends. But I was sure it could wait.

I came out of the bedroom and found that Luke and Grover had also showered and changed clothes. Grover was eating potato chips to his heart's content, while Luke had turned on Game of Thrones.

"Boys," I snorted. "You had to choose something I act in?" 

"It's awesome. That waitress was right— your character is sick as hell," Luke defended his T.V. show choice. "And you look hot— do you have any of those dresses still?"

"I feel good," Grover said. "I love this place."

I had to agree. This place was better than pretty much everywhere else I'd ever slept in. "I can't believe I've never stayed here before."

"So what now?" Luke asked. "Sleep?"

Grover and I looked at each other and grinned. We both held up our green plastic LotusCash cards.

"Playtime," I grinned.

I couldn't remember the last time I had so much fun. Despite the places I went, there was no comparing to this place. Really, why had I never stayed here before? 

I bungee-jumped the lobby five or six times, checked out the waterslide, snowboarded the artificial ski slope, and played virtual-reality laser tag and FBI sharpshooter. I saw Grover a few times, going from game to game. He really liked the reverse hunter thing— where the deer go out and shoot the rednecks. Frankly, it was kind of weird.

Luke was playing various theft and battle-related games, as if that wasn't how he spent his regular time as well.

I'm not sure when I first realized something was wrong.

Probably, it was when I noticed the guy standing next to me at VR sharpshooters. He was about thirteen, I guess, but his clothes were weird. I thought he was some Elvis impersonator's son. He wore bell-bottom jeans and a red T-shirt with black piping, and his hair was permed and gelled like a New Jersey girl's on homecoming night.

We played a game of sharpshooters together and he said, "Groovy, man. Been here two weeks, and the games keep getting better and better."

Groovy? Who the fuck says groovy anymore?

Later, while we were talking, I said something was "sick," and he looked at me kind of startled, as if he'd never heard the word used that way before.

He said his name was Darrin, but as soon as I started asking him questions he got bored with me and started to go back to the computer screen.

"Hey, Darrin?" I said, a feeling of unease in my stomach, and a pounding in my head.

"What?"

"What year is it?"

He frowned at me. "In the game?"

"No. In real life."

He had to think about it. "1977."

"No," I denied, getting a little scared. "Really."

"Hey, girlfriend. Bad vibes. I got a game happening."

After that he ignored me.

I started talking to people, and I found it wasn't easy. They were glued to the TV screen, or the video game, or their food, or whatever. I found a guy who told me it was 1985. Another guy told me it was 1993. They all claimed they hadn't been in here very long, a few days, a few weeks at most. They didn't really know and they didn't care.

Then it occurred to me: how long had I been there? It seemed like only a couple of hours, but was it?

I tried to remember why we were there. We were going to Los Angeles. We were supposed to find the entrance to the Underworld. The world... the world was going to end if we didn't stop it! I rushed around the room in search of the boys.

I found Luke robbing the White House.

"Come on," I told him. "We've got to get out of here."

No response.

I shook him. "Luke?"

He looked up, annoyed. Frankly, I'd never seen him giving me a look like that, and it only reinforced my stress level. The way things were going, I'd be on blood pressure tablets by the time I turned eighteen in two months.

"What?" Luke snapped at me.

"We need to leave."

"Leave? What the fuck are you talking about, Allie? I've just got past the third level—"

"This place is a trap."

He didn't respond until I shook him again. "What?"

"Oh for the love of Olympus!" I cried, frustration bubbling in my stomach, along with a little fear at the furious look on Luke's face. Then I slapped him. Hard.

That jarred him. His vision cleared. "Oh my gods," he said. "How long have we—"

"I don't know, but we've got to find Grover."

We went searching, and found him still playing Virtual Deer Hunter.

"Grover!" we both shouted.

He said, "Die, human! Die, silly polluting nasty person!"

"Grover!"

He turned the plastic gun on me and started clicking, as if I were just another image from the screen.

I looked at Luke, and together we took Grover by the arms and dragged him away. He fought us, but considering Luke and I were taller and stronger, it wasn't a fight he was going to win, "No! I just got to a new level! No!"

The Lotus bellhop hurried up to us. "Well, now, are you ready for your platinum cards?"

"We're leaving," I told him matter-of-factly.

"Such a shame," he said, and I got the feeling that he really meant it, that we'd be breaking his heart if we went. Well, he'd just have to deal. He'd have no guests at all if Zeus and Poseidon tore the world apart in the midst of their temper tantrum. Probably no wifi either.

"We just added an entirely new floor full of games for platinum-card members."

He held out the cards, and I wanted one. But, I knew that if I took one, I'd never leave. I'd stay here, happy forever, playing games forever, and soon I'd forget my mom, and my quest, and maybe even my own name. I'd be playing virtual rifleman with groovy Disco Darrin forever.

Grover reached for the card, but Luke yanked back his arm and shook his head with a firm, "No, thanks."

We walked toward the door, and as we did, the smell of the food and the sounds of the games seemed to get more and more inviting. I thought about our room upstairs. We could just stay the night, sleep in a real bed for once...

Then we burst through the doors of the Lotus Casino and ran down the sidewalk. It still felt like afternoon, about the same time of day we'd gone into the casino, but something was wrong. The weather had completely changed. It was stormy, with heat lightning flashing out in the desert.

Ares' backpack was slung over Luke's shoulder, and mine from Camp was over mine, still filled to the brim with the designer clothing I'd put into it. Both of which was odd, because I was sure I had left them in room 44001, but at the moment I had other problems to worry about.

I ran to the nearest newspaper stand and read the year first. Thank the gods, it was the same year it had been when we went in. Then I noticed the date and moaned in horror: June twentieth.

We had been in the Lotus Casino for five days. We had only one day left until the summer solstice. One day to complete our quest.

*    *    *

previous | next

SERIES M.LIST | MAIN M.LIST | TIPS

[the-firebird69]

We have a few things going on. The entire Gulf of Mexico has dropped fully too. The Great lakes and the rivers will drop fully shortly. The morlock we're wiped out by the flood, they're fighting over it here. And Billy z and mac were fighting. But the morelok we're reduced so about half, and most people were not allowing them to get them to evacuate. When lost them to the floods a lot of people were just hit because they're weak and that went on for some time and the morlock are crippled. There are several other things that are happening yes at the same time. There's a huge outcry by more luck, and it was really a grief and so angst and fear and a lot of Whaling, all of it was taken in the wrong way and they were shot for disturbing the peace and for trying to riot this caused a problem because other more like I saw it and armed up and attacks the people who we're shooting them. The people who are shooting the crowd were Victorious in most cases. This went on for many hours all night so far and early morning and it continues right now and there's considerable amount of suffering by people who lost relatives in the flood and there are a lot of relatives lost all at once and for the most part they know that they just stay there and they were screaming at them to leave and didn't have a way of convincing them some areas evacuated really partially. And they did not make it. So you might see it today mor lock behaving out in severe bereavement and they look very odd and it looks suspicious. There's a lot of them who are angry about this statement of this sort of get it. That's not the time to be in people's faces. But there's a lot of them who don't get it as well see they're insisting on be able to mourn the way they want. And if it means it dies and they will do so they say. It started up again just now all over the world they are wailing and yelling outside wheeling and yelling it's a big big huge number of people and the times very fast and the clothing swiped out too it was probably no 50 percent of what they have left no it's more like 70 to 80% leaning towards 80 %. It was a huge number of clones that bought the big one. A giant giant number of people but when it comes to close it was humongous way more than the number of people outside and they're counting on that to take over the United States with and our son says between the flood and the idiots running around screaming due to the flood they will most likely try and launch all their clones momentarily.

We agree an alert issued we move out now

Thor Freya

We will follow our sop and in this case we know what we're doing and there are 100% aggressors

Olympus

Good going. Zues. We didunderstand they're going to do that but now we have cover it is growing all over Earth

Hera

Your welcome

Zues

Hehe thank you I mean

Hera

Oh yeh

Zues

[crownshattered-moved]

@dancinghearts​​​​​​ inquired: At times he really should know how to shut up, but sadly that was a quality that bards didn't seem to have. He had been making his way to Liyue to go see his beloved adeptus, though had been cut off by an angry bunch of treasure hoarders. Of course he had at first attempted to tell them he had no mora on him whatsoever, but when they persisted he may have let an insult slip.The last thing he really remembered was hearing something behind him before he felt a stinging pain. Even an archon couldn't really do much against a heavy blow to the head, vision blurred from the pain, the next thing he knew he saw an arrow firmly lodged in his side. Completely freezing up, far too many memories came back now. With this body, seeing an arrow stuck in it, he completely broke.His panicked screams easily echoed around the mountain pass, the winds carrying them even further along. As if the pain itself hadn't been crippling enough, all of those memories now came back as well to completely break the poor bard. He didn't even notice the treasure hoarder in front of him raising his sword, breath quick and shallow as he threatened to pass out.

Unprompted—Always Accepting!!

In a flash of turquoise light, the Yaksha stood before the fallen bard with weapon in hand. The blade was knocked right out of the treasure hoarder’s hand without Xiao even seeming to move an inch. He was alerted to the sound of a scream on the winds, a scream he recognized immediately. His beloved was in danger... Luckily, Xiao wasn’t preoccupied with a demon and could immediately come to his beloved’s aid. 

He had taken an oath never to harm a human within Liyue’s boarders, and that extended to all humans, regardless of the crimes they commit--that was for their own people to punish. So he didn’t kill the treasure hoarders before him, even though he desperately wanted to. No, instead, he gave them a warning. Amber hues aglow, a dark aura collecting around the Adeptus, he spoke in a dangerous and deadly tone. “You have angered the Adepti of Liyue with this act. Flee this land and never return again...or else I will not be so considerate next time and will kill you myself.”

Xiao wanted to do more to punish these imbeciles, but his hands were tied. So instead, he picked up Venti in a flash and suddenly disappeared. The arrow to the side could be enough to kill a human, true, but Venti was an Archon. Even without his gnosis, he was quite durable. But he still needed to heal from this wound, and Xiao knew exactly where to go. So, that’s where he took the Anemo Archon--to the grand tree in Mondstadt.

[a-sour-nectarine]

Reverse Robins AU

New au! A standard reverse au, but spicy. Here's a guide/timeline of all of their arrivals and inductions into the team!

We start with Duke! Duke Thomas, wanting revenge on Joker for driving his parents insane, talks a young Bruce Wayne into letting him join. He does have powers, though. His meta status is the only reason Bruce lets him out in the field. He is jokingly referred to as "The Bat's Signal," as his appearance means that Batman isn't far behind.

Damian is next. Sent by his mother to assassinate the possible competition for his father's inheritance and legacy, ten-year-old Damian attacks a 16-year-old Duke. That doesn't work out so well.

Damian becomes Shadow. Where The Signal heralds Batman's arrival, Shadow follows behind, tying up loose ends.

Following Damian's arrival by three years is Cass. Her story is very similar to what it is in canon, except, she shows up in Wayne Manor as an 8-year-old. She runs straight there, basically.

Cass's brothers adore her. She's probably the only reason Duke visits anymore.

Then Damian dies. And Bruce breaks.

Batman is alone. No Signal, no Shadow.

Then along comes a precocious 13-year-old by the name of Timothy Drake.

Tim forces his way into the Shadow mantle in a desperate attempt to keep Bruce afloat. It works. But Tim doesn't come alone. A girl, who Bruce has fought with before, seems to be a part of the Tim Drake package.

Spoiler joins the team. She and Tim are frighteningly competent, a perfect pair. Bruce jokes that they barely even need him.

(Bruce also wonders when he decided he would allow regular teenagers into this life.)

Stephanie, eager to get out of the shadow her father has held over her, takes on the name of Batgirl. Tim thinks the name is stupid. Bruce absolutely does not cry.

Then Damian returns. He returns from Hell to a house full of laughter and two new siblings.

(He's not entirely mad about it)

He takes the name of Nightwing.

Duke has already claimed Tim, so Damian's favorite sibling is automatically Stephanie. They aren't so different.

He's gone when she's murdered. Blown to bits by the Joker after a bond-tearing fight with Tim pushed her from Gotham. Damian can't make himself attend the funeral, but the Joker doesn't live much longer. He visits her grave only when the blood on his hands has dried.

Tim is wrecked. His best friend is dead and it's his fault. He runs. It isn't the first time. It won't be the last. Duke chases after him.

When they come back, Duke is crippled. He lost one leg at the hip and the other below the knee. Prosthetics can only do so much. He doesn't interact with his family for months.

Until a masked Spoiler-Copy ambushes him in his apartment, demanding to know who killed the Joker.

He says Nightwing did. Now there are three people who know that truth. The fake Spoiler seems incredibly angry.

Duke panics and calls Tim. Damian went dark months ago, but Tim can find anyone at any time. He will know how to alert Damian. But he doesn't. Someone is running around, leaving a trail of blood, tainting Stephanie's memory. He confronts the imposter.

It's not an imposter. It is Stephanie. And she is directing all her Lazarus-Pit-Rage at the person who drove her away in the first place. Tim himself.

Damian comes back to Gotham to try and calm his little sister.

It doesn't work, but at least she isn't trying to kill Tim anymore.

Duke becomes Oracle, unable to completely leave the team behind. They don't know how they survived without him before.

Damian finds a tiny Jason Todd, stealing the tires off the Batmobile. Jason fills the void of The Shadow left by Tim's graduation to Crimson Shade.

Then Bruce dies.

Jason doesn't believe it. The only person who agrees is Tim. They set off to find someone who can help them. That person is Ra's al Ghul.

In anger over the Tim's refusal to become the next Demon's head, Ra's kills him. Jason convinces Talia to help him, and she resurrects him with the pit. Tim returns to life with two goals: protect Jason and retrieve Bruce. Ra's al Ghul is the path to both of those things.

Jason is afraid. As soon as they have enough information to find Bruce in the timestream, he sends a copy to the JLA and deletes the original.

Tim is a little broken. His two objectives clash. He rises up in the League, until he is high-profile enough for Damian to find him.

Damian has been searching for a year. He is Batman. He's adopted a child. An acrobat's son. Steph has passed the mantle of Batgirl on to a 14-year-old Cass.

Damian confronts his mother. She is romantically involved with his 18-year-old brother. That's where Damian draws the line.

Tim, Jason, and Damian return to Gotham. Bruce has been brought back, Dick becoming his Shadow. Damian is furious with Bruce and Duke for letting that happen, he leaves.

He goes to Stephanie. Stephanie exists in the only part of the world the Bats will not touch. If they acknowledge her, they have to acknowledge that she is a criminal, a crime boss, sitting on top of an empire.

Damian joins her. It's a family business. Spoiler and The Prince of Gotham are names whispered in the alleys, criminals who hunt criminals. They use Talia's connections for their own gain. She is a terrible mother, but she is their terrible mother.

Damian balances Steph out, and she calms him down. Their existence is still ignored by the larger family.

Dick is inconsolable after Damian leaves. Bruce sets him up on a playdate with the commissioner's daughter, Barbara. They get along well, despite the three year age gap.

Barbara is smart. She notices things about Dick, and she notices things about the new Shadow.

Cass trains her and passes the name of Batgirl down, as Steph had done before.

Years later, Dick understands the implications of being a Shadow. He becomes Robin. Barbara, painting herself a comedian, counters with her own name of Sparrow.

She doesn't want to admit it, but Batgirl comes with too much baggage of it's own. It's easier to make it a joke.

[loverhymeswith]

Can I please request "Stop that broody look and come over here." with Tak (because obviously)? Thanks!

Eye of the Storm | Takeshi Kovacs x Reader

Teasing Dialogue Prompts

Thank you for this prompt, @a-reader-and-a-writer! It was absolutely perfect for our big brooding envoy!

Joel Taglist: @weallhaveadestiny @a-reader-and-a-writer @skvatnavle

You find Tak on the balcony of his quarters, staring out at the flashing neon lights of Bay City. Rain lashes down with the force of a thousand angry gods, but it will never be enough to wash away the sins of this city.

Sparing a second to run your gaze over the outline of the envoy’s broad body as he leans out into the night, you wonder whether you should really be here. You know how he feels about unwanted visitors. But it wasn’t difficult to sneak past Poe. A small part of you suspects that the AI hotelier wanted you to come up here tonight. After all, someone needed to. That much rage cannot go walking around unchecked for too long.

With a single deep breath, you push your burgeoning self-doubt down to the pit of your stomach and clear your throat, loud enough to make yourself heard over the hammering of rain on the tiled floor. You didn't really need to announce yourself, though. His uncanny envoy intuition probably alerted him to your presence as soon as you arrived on his floor.

Tak is scowling when he turns to face you, a catalogue of fresh cuts and bruises marring his stupidly handsome face. Your eyes drift lower, noting the bursts of crimson blood blossoming beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. You can’t even begin to imagine what manner of unseen injuries he’s hiding elsewhere. Perhaps Elliot should have come tonight instead. The former marine medic might not stand much of a chance against the full force of Takeshi Kovacs, but at least he could help patch up the envoy’s wounds.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Tak grunts, pinning you with a look that is surely intended to have you running for the hills. A look that you imagine works rather effectively on his many foes.

Ignoring his vaguely threatening comment, you lean back against the wall of the hotel, a poor attempt to shelter from the deluge. “Neither should you. You’ll catch a cold.”

His brow furrows further, deep hazel eyes surveying you intently as he tries to decipher your warning. Even from this distance, you can see the beads of water that fall from the long strands of his hair, landing on his temple and eventually running along the sharp curve of his jaw.

“I mean because of the rain.” You indicate his drenched and bloody white shirt, almost transparent now. You somehow doubt that the man before you is susceptible to such minor human ailments as the common cold, but you know he took a beating both physically and emotionally tonight, and you’re here to make sure he’s ok. Or at least that he’s not going to go and do something stupid. You doubt BCPD would look too kindly on any more burning buildings or broken bodies.

He doesn’t reply. The only sign he even hears you is the tick of a muscle in his jaw. "Stop that broody look and come over here, Tak.”

When it’s clear he’s not budging, you push off the wall and step out into the downpour. The ferocity of the frigid rainfall almost takes your breath away, but you continue to make your way over, goosebumps pebbling your flesh. All the while, Tak is watching you warily.

With less than a metre now separating you from the stubborn envoy, you tilt your head to look up at him, to really study him. Beyond the glowering glare, you can feel the frustration and the sense of failure that cripples him. You can read the hurt and the betrayal in the clench of his jaw and the tightening of his fists.

Tentatively, you reach up and brush a damp lock of hair from his brow, your fingers lingering on his skin for a few seconds longer than necessary. Being around Tak often feels like you’re dancing with danger, but as you continue to look into his eyes, a haunted expression slowly replaces the promise of violence.

“Revenge can wait until the morning. Let’s go inside, ok?”

Almost imperceptibly, he nods. You barely dare to breathe when he takes your hand.

[jeweled-blue-eyes]

Do you have any headcannons or ideas for any of potential male leads for og! Penelope? Also I liked the ones that you suggested in my previous ask

P.s. Penelope deserves better than to be pair up with her tormentors like come on

My favourite idea of a male lead for Penelope is a cook. No secret bastard prince or powerful wizard hiding his talents. Just someone absolutely ordinary. I have a few reasons for this choice: All of the men who tormented and killed Penelope were nobles (Callisto is a crown prince, Iklies a prince of a fallen nation, Vinter is a marquis, Reynold and Derrick are dukes). On top of that they are usually insanely talented at something be it swordmanship or magic. They could easily crush Penelope between their fingers. Penelope has no good association with the nobility. Whenever she leaves the house to go to balls she gets either ignored or mocked. She has to bow down to them and make herself small and insignificant and apologize for anything that caused troubles even if it wasn't her fault.

If her love interest was a commoner this would be quite a different story. It would be a different kind of power imbalance where the girl is kind of in charge instead of the guy. Remember when she was alone with Iklies and it was probably the first time she smiled from the bottom of her heart? With a commoner lover Penelope could finally be herself without worrying how others might perceive her. She doesn't have to follow complicatet etiquettes or watch his every move to detect any sign of anger. It'd be true freedom.

Why a cook you ask? Because food is a love language and for Penelope, someone who has grown up with food insecurity, being cooked for and served a warm homemade meal has a big meaning. It means "I thought about what you might like and cooked it with you in my mind. I want you to be full and happy and never be hungry again for the rest of your life." It'd be just very sweet.

I picture them starting out as childhood friends. The boy doesn't start out as a cook. He's a kitchen boy or a servant meant for the lowest and dirtiest work. He has to chop the firewood and do the washing up. He's getting a bit pushed around by the fellow servants and the dream of becoming a gourmet cook is still out of reach for him.

How do they meet? After a week of being starved again, Penelope sneaks into the kitchen to steal some leftovers and there she catches him stealing a pie! At first she's very angry at him. The food was meant for her (it wasn't) and all the anger at being starved is suddenly redirected at him. She can't scream at him as it might alert people but she shakes him, glares at him and threatens she'll tell the duke. The boy apologizes profoundly and explains he couldn't help himself he was so hungry and Penelope..understands. She knows what it's like to be a commoner and live at the mercy of others. They make a deal: she won't snitch on him and he won't tell the others about her coming down to the kitchen.

They start out as just two stranger bound by nothing but their unfortunate circumstances but eventually they become friends. Sometimes he waits for her to come out at night at a certain time and has already food prepared for her and is sad when she can't make it.

I headcanon him as having a sick mother or a crippled father (from the war maybe?) making him the only breadwinner of his family full of hungry younger siblings. And more often than not he has given up his food to them. He's just a very kind person and can't stand to see a person in need. When he mets a beggar on the streets he'd give him his last shilling that he wanted to use to buy candy for his youngest sibling. I also picture him as a bit dumb? Or naive? Like he legit didn't notice what was going on with Penelope until he actually met her. He just thought the bad leftovers were for the pigs or something. In his defense he worked his fingers to the bone 24/07 and just had other worries.

I also have the headcanon that Penelope leaves jewels as a gift to him to show her gratitude but he thinks someone is trying to blame him for theft and tries to get rid of them lol.

When Ivonne arrives and Penelope is blamed for the poisoning and confined in her room, he uses the time window where her door is unlocked and he has to serve her food to gives her the uniform of a maid and they escape at night together. They settle somewhere far away from the capital, pretending to be a young married couple in need of a job. The boy becomes a cook just like he always dreamed of and Penelope is finally free from her family. She is unspeakably happy when he asks her a few years later for her hand in marriage (for real this time) and they open up their own restaurant with their savings.

[imnotusedtobeingloved]

A/B/C/D/E/F/G/H/I/J/K/L/M/N/O/P/Q/R/S/T/U/V/W/X/Y/Z

 FROM THE CHARACTER ALPHABET WITH IVAR RAGNARSSON.

REQUESTED BY: @witch-of-letters

A - affection (how affectionate are they? what do they enjoy?)

At first? Not at all.

The only person he is used to getting affection from is Aslaug, so naturally you might earn a few sceptical looks from him if you try to get close.

Nevertheless he quickly learns how pleasant the attention of someone else can be, but tries to be subtle about it. He wouldn’t want to tell you upfront that he enjoys having you close or that he likes your touch, because he fears the rejection that might come with it.

In time, he would alert you with a little nudge here and there whenever he requires your tenderness.

Slowly but surely Ivar would get more daring, trying to innitiate the soft touches himself. If you don’t pull back, he’ll get more sure of himself and as soon as it is clear to him that you are serious about him, you’ll be the only person in Kattegat to recieve affectionate touches from Ivar without any deadly concequences.

What he loves most is either having his head placed on your chest or stomach, feeling you breathe and with your hands in his hair, or laying on the side, with you wrapped around his back.

B - bodypart (what’s their favorite bodypart on their partner and them?)

His arms.

His arms have been a replacement for his legs for all his life. Since he has to crawl everywhere until he has his crutches, they are well built and knowing that you love being wrapped inside them, makes Ivar love them even more.

Your legs.

He likes your legs because they are what he cannot have. He likes them because his are so flawed, and yet you choose to love them anyways. And he likes them due to their shape, the softness of your skin and how they look when you move around.

C - commitment (how quick are they to commit?)

Not that quick.

Ivar is reluctant, to say the least.

He needs to be 100% sure that you are commited to him, before he will make any kind of promises to you. It would be a long process full of selfdoubt, selfdeprication and fear of betrayal.

Ivar would also visit the seer and ask about a future with you by his side. The seers answers would be, as always, very vague (if he says something at all).

In addition to all those troubles, his brothers are in the midst of it. Ubbe and Hvitserk might be the only positive voices of reason at times (apart from Aslaug), while Bjorn would not really concern himself with it. Sigurd on the other hand would throw salt at Ivars mental wounds, saying you were only with him out of pity.

So the viking has no real option but to rely on you reassurance and your loving words. You’d probably have to spend months proving that you are serious about him, because he has been hurt and rediculed so many times before, but in the end it’s all worth it.

Once Ivar chooses to fully commit to you, he’s there to stay.

D - dates (what would dates with them look like? what would they plan?)

Ivar is usually not that much of a planner when it comes to dates.

Normally he is content with finding a secluded place to spend time with you, away from the crowds and far, far away from his relatives.

But if, for any reason, a special occassion should arise, he would definetely ask his brothers for help as much as he hates it.

He would send Hvitserk to distract you with requests and tasks all day, while Ubbe helps him set everything up in a little cabin in the woods. Ivar would ask Aslaug to have some thralls bring plates of food as well.

E - experience (how many relationships have they had before?)

Close to nothing, really.

Ivar did not have any experience with real love and he was very sceptical of it.

The few kisses and cuddles he may have had, have all come from the thralls his family owns.

Apart from that, he has not been interested in anybody, other than finding some attractive on the outside. Too often he had to find out the hard way that the insides of people where much more ugly than the exterior.

So in response to that Ivar mainly focused on his training and on becoming a better viking, until you came along.

F - family (do they want to start a family?)

Ivar would love to start a family.

At first, he is actually astounded that you’d bring it up.

For a long time, he could’ve never imagined someone wanting to have a family with him. To have a child with him (no matter if it’s your own or adopted). So when you suggest it, he is mindblown for a second, before he cups your face, telling you that it is what he longed for all along.

He would be ecstatic upon the idea of having an heir. Or two. Or more. But at least one is fair.

For him, it feels like everything is finally falling into the right place.

G - generosity (do they give their partner a lot of presents? if so, what?)

Exceptionally generous.

And you don’t even have to ask for them.

Ivar brings tons of goods and riches home from every raid, where you can pick whatever you like. He makes sure to safe the best pieces for you and keeps an eye out for suvenirs he knows you might love.

Should you require anything else Ivar has enough resources to get you everything you want from the market. Since Aslaugs rule in Ragnars absence, Kattegat has also transformed into an important trading center, will all kinds of diverse products.

Ivar sees to it, that you have anything you could possible require, even in his absence.

He spoils you, not gonna lie.

H - heaven (how would they react if they lost their partner?)

Ivar would never recover from the loss.

After everything that happened to his family, all the betrayals and the lies and the fights, you were the one thing to keep him going. You had been there for him everytime, no matter how hard it was. No matter how dangerous it got, no matter how exhausted you were.

But now?

There was nothing.

No one.

And no way to bring you back.

One of the things that scares Ivar most is how numb everything feels. There was nobody to be angry at. Nobody to blame, except for the illness that took you away. And against something like that, not even Ivar the Boneless could seek revenge.

He should have known when you confessed you love, that you were just another thing he had to lose. First it was his father, then his mother, then Helga and Floki and now... there was nothing left of him.

Still your face, your smell, you presence would follow him everywhere he goes.

And he’d beg you to haunt him.

I - i love you (who says the three magic words first and why?)

It depends.

The only way Ivar would say it first is if he is frantic. Either in a screaming match, or when you are close to leaving him.

When neither of those are likely though, this viking would most definetely wait until you’ve said it first. For a long time he does not even dare to hope that you will. He is still a cripple after all, no amout of love could ever change that and he fears the day you realize it. Ivar is so used to rejection that he tells himself it wouldn’t hurt if you left. But deep down he knows it would. That’s why he always hesitates in the very last second, drawing back. 

He leaves the first ‘i love you’ to you. But when it comes, you’ve never seen him smile that big. He can’t believe his luck. Can’t believe that you truly choose him over anyone else.

Ivar will rarely outright tell you that he loves you and only chooses particular moments for it.

But that just makes it all the more special.

J - journey (how did they first meet their partner?)

Unfortunately, you met Ivar while his men were preparing for a raid.

You stumbled upon their camp and he questioned you, demanding informations. This way he could gather when the best time for an attack might be. But not only that. You captured his interest in a way he would not have expected.

There was something in the way you spoke and the way you carried yourself that made him hesitate. He supposed that was what it must have felt like for his father with that unlucky priest Floki killed in the end. But then again, in time, he discovered it wasn’t quite the same. There was something more that drew him to you, apart from curiosity.

And he intended to find out what exactly it was.

Who knows after all?

Maybe it was fate.

K - kisses (what are their kisses like?)

Ivars kisses are desperate.

Desperate for warmth, desperate for acceptance, desperate for belonging.

He puts his emotions into every kiss and there is no such thing as ‘just a peck’ with him. Ivar likes to feel needed. He likes showing you how much he loves you, rather than expressing it with words.

He’s also not ashamed to kiss you in front of an audience, frankly he does not care who sees it, because you’re the only one that counts (but he will stop should it make you uncomfortable). He does not fear that it might make him seem weak, that thought is pretty ridiculous to him.

If anything, he’s even more proud to be the one you want.

L - love language (what’s their love language?)

Ivars love language is physical touch closely followed by words of affirmation.

Ivar feels loved the most if he recieves physical touch. He senses that most people around him are too intimidated to get close, or are simply put off by his condition. As a result of that, he rarely gets affectionate touches or attention, which he craves dearly. Even more so since Aslaug is dead and Floki and Helga are both gone. It’s important to Ivar that his partner makes him feel appreciated this way, even if it’s just a hand on his arm at the table, or your fingers laced with his. Every little touch counts.

The second best way to make him happy is through words of affirmation. Words have great meaning to Ivar, so beware of saying anything hurtful to him, for it might stay with him for a lifetime. In time you may notice that especially Ragnars last words “happiness means nothing” are stuck in Ivars head. Words impact him greatly, and you may have to undo some of the damage others have caused in his mind, with a few well-placed strikes. Ivar will appreciate it if you reassure him of your love with the right words at the right time.

M - memory (what’s their favorite memory of the relationship?)

The morning after the first night spend together.

Back then he had no idea how it happened or how you did it.

You were still snoring next to him when he came to realize he didn’t just like you. He loved you. And while you moved around, hugging the fur close to your chest a thousand emotions had swirled in his head. He was confused, surprised and completely thrown aback about what you did to him. About how you made his heart beat faster and his limbs tingle with the need to draw you closer. He watched, until the sun tickled your skin, rousing you from your sleep and when you opened your eyes to look at him with that smile... you knocked the breath out of his lungs.

Whenever he thinks back to that morning now, you catch him with an absent-minded smile on his lips.

N - newborn (how would they react to expecting a child? how would they deal with the pregnancy?)

Ivar would be shocked.

First of all, he would question if the child is truly his, as it seemed impossible before. He wouldn’t have thought that he would ever get the chance to have an heir. So, once you’ve settled his doubts, he would be the proudest father-to-be in all of Kattegat.

But also the most anxious.

He heavily questions his ability to raise a child. Even he knows his father was not a really good example to look up to when it comes to raising children, or to being a husband.

So he seeks the not really helpful advice of his brothers, who all seem to go in completely different directions when it comes to kids. Hvitserk is clearly letting his nephews and nieces walk all over him, while Ubbe is acting like an overprotective hen. Bjorn seems deadset on training them and sending them out in the wild. And Sigurd? Ivar is not quite sure the man is a grown-up himself.

In conclusion: they all started fighting amost themselves while Ivar watched the mess unfold.

Clearly, his mother Aslaug would have been a much better option.

But if she is no longer around, Ivar will instead turn to Floki and Helga where he finally finds some words of wisdom and support.

Without a doubt the woman carrying his child will be protected at all times. This is a literal miracle to him and he would be devastated if anything went wrong with the mother, or the child.

Other than that Ivar finds great joy in the pregnancy. He loves seeing the mother grow with his child and he would be truly proud of his child for carrying on his legacy. Ivar’s love grows during this incredible months, even during all the moods and cravings.

Both, the mother and the baby will be incredibly spoiled.

O - oasis (what’s their favorite place to spent time?)

The pier.

He enjoys the location, especially on warm summer days.

He has many memories stored in his mind, of sitting out on the docks. It’s a place where he can clear his head and it also gives him an overview of everything that is happening around him.

Ivar also likes the calm view of the ocean, even though he’s terrified of the sea. He likes to imagine all the lands that await him on the next raid. The atmosphere helps him to resume his strategies and to gather his thoughts.

It helps him to visualize the terrain the next war will be fought on and the techniques his enemies might use.

You will find him there often, sitting and staring out to the sea until the sun fades away.

P - petnames (what petname would they give their partner?)

“My love.”

The words tasted absolutely ridiculous on his tongue, when he first said them. Almost pathetic. That is also what he threw at your head, when you first said it, but not in anger. It was... something else. Some thing you had to figure out first.

The way he put you off was so reluctant, that it didn’t fit. He liked it. You knew he did. And he knew you knew he did. And he hated it.

This, in turn, made you use the petname whenever you could, with a smirk on your face. Eventually he not only gave in, but started using it himself.

The first time he did you probably spit out your drink in shock tbh.

He’d grumble out of embarassement, until you’d reassure him. When he knows for sure that you actually love it, it’s settled.

It would become a habit.

Q - quiet (what do undisturbed moments look like?)

Peaceful.

In quiet moments Ivar can take a breath and let go of all that troubles him.

He likes taking you down to the beach on those rare days, lying next to you in the sand and relaxing for hours. In those moments all the fights, the wars and the arguments truly fade away. Sometimes they might creep into his mind, which you scold him for when he shares those thoughs absent-mindedly.

Apart from that, it is in those quiet times that you can truly find joy in the company of each other. There don’t need to be many words or actions to keep you happy, just the two of you alone will do.

R - rivals (how do they handle jealousy?)

Not too well.

If there is anyone making advances towards you, Ivar will be the first one to notice. Probably even before you.

He knows very well that you would not appreciate a bloodbath. And further than that, there are political figures that are better kept alive during those stressful times of war. So, no matter how much it bugs him, he would keep still for the time being, trusting you to tell them off (but you may notice the tick of his jaw, or the whitened knuckles when his fingers clench around the armrests of his chair).

If you don’t notice, Ivar will be sure to inform you and ask you to do something about it. He doesn’t voice his concerns about it very clearly, but he is afraid of you leaving him for another.

Though, should a situation get critical, even after you have made clear that Ivar is the one for you, you can be sure that Ivar wont let it slide.

Even if he has to make it look like an accident.

S - song (what song is a reminder of them?)

OCEAN EYES - BILLIE EILISH

I've been watchin' you for some time

Can't stop starin' at those ocean eyes

Burning cities and napalm skies

Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes

Your ocean eyes

No fair

You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Fallin' into your ocean eyes

Those ocean eyes

I've been walkin' through a world gone blind

Can't stop thinkin' of your diamond mind

Careful creature made friends with time

He left her lonely with a diamond mind

And those ocean eyes

No fair

You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Fallin' into your ocean eyes

Those ocean eyes

Da, da-da, da-da

Da-da-da, da, da

Da, da, da, da, da-da-da-da

Mm

Mm

Mm

No fair

You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Fallin' into your ocean eyes

Those ocean eyes

T - token (what kind of object would be the proof of their love? a ring? a necklace? something completely different?)

Ivar can, as a prince and as a king, buy you anything you want.

So he goes a completely different way.

He would try and make you something himself. Something that wouldn’t bother you during the day while tending to your tasks, but also something that would show everyone around you that you are taken.

And something that would remind you of him.

Ivar has noticed you fiddle with the pendant of his necklace often enough.

The viking takes is upon himself to make a twin to the mjolnir hanging from his throat. He would spend ages drawing out the form and details of the hammer, making sure everything looks perfect. He would also use much more expensive material than his own was made of and would insert fitting gemstones if possible.

Ivar works through days and nights to complete his work and smiles like a child when he can finally hand it to you.

It would turn out so beautiful that you would never want to take it off.

U - unique (why did they choose their partner? what first attracted them?)

The thing that first drew him to you was your personality.

Ivar likes looking at pretty features and bodies, yes. But in a way, doesn’t everyone?

Physical attributes don’t mean that much to him. That he may find a body pleasing to look at has nothing to do with feelings. It is more about an aesthitic. About a facade.

What really interests him is your behavior and your mannerisms. How you talk and behave when nobody sees you and how you move when the great hall is filled with people.

Ivar is first attracted to you because of your habits and your character. The unique tells when he catches you lying, or the characteristic twitch of your mouth, when Bjorn shares a story around the dinner table.

V - vulnerable (how vulnerable do they allow themselves to get?)

He is a tough nut to crack.

Ivar is not the type to be vulnerable around others.

He is not always proud of it when he loses his temper, but he absolutely hates it when he has to cry. Not particularily because he sees it as a weakness, but because he despises the whole feeling of it. He hates the helplessness that settles in and the pityful looks everyone carries on their faces when tears are shed.

He does not like to cry in front of you, even when you are close. You will often have to force him to lean on you and let you comfort him. At the beginning he dislikes doing so, but quickly notices that it helps.

He starts to appreciate your help and your knowledge when you assist him to get his mind back on track and give him a perspective he might not have thought of (though there is rarely a way he does not come up with).

X - xfactor (what’s one of their special talents they try to impress with?)

His mind.

While his brothers might be honest in saying that they consider him their equal despite his disability (which he is already sceptical of), Ivar is very aware that that does not count for everyone else around him.

Not even for you.

So he tries to impress you with what he does best. Ivar is intelligent and an incredible strategist on all fields. He will use his smarts and his witt to catch you attention (and maybe even aks you for advice, even though he already has the perfect solution).

Y - yin & yang (how does having their partner around change their behavior?)

It changes quite a bit.

Ivar becomes calmer when you’re around. More patient and less heated. Apart from that he puts great value on your opinions, even of you are not familiar with all of his strategies.

The times of war are stressful even on a bright mind such as his. It makes him agitated when you’re parted and he trends to get nervous when he can’t keep an eye on you.

Since what happened to his mother while he was not around, he fears that the same fate might come for you if he is not on guard at all times. That, in turn gets him easily frustrated when you can’t join him where he is going.

Needless to say, his men are glad when you are present.

Ivar becomes more relaxed, witty and even pleasant at times as soon as you are near.

Z- zen (how calm are they during arguments?)

Not very calm, even though he tries to keep his cool.

He tends to let his frustrations out, wether that be through screaming or trashing something.

This viking does not hold back.

And we all know Ivar is already intimidating enough when he is not in a bad mood.

But usually, all of that doesn’t happen around you. Between the both of you arguments rarely arise. You are pretty much on the same page and definetely act as a team.

Though, of course, it can’t be that easy all the time. When an argument between the two of you arises Ivat tries to reason with you. The man is used to things going his way, so it might be quite a struggle to go against him at first. He tends to get louder, as a way to emphasize his reasoning, but will quickly try to shut it down if you tell him that it upsets you.

He’ll try to explain his situation and get a grip on your view at the same time, until you reach an agreement both of you are happy with, which he does not do with anyone but you.

[palestinianliberator]

To be Palestinian is exhausting

You will not find a single Palestinian who hasn’t had to endure all of the following and more:

Constantly having to prove our existence

[This is going to be a tremendously long post, but I implore you to read through what you can]

Constantly having to educate everyone around us on our history and people while we continue to be slaughtered

Constantly having to combat Israeli propaganda and dehumanization campaigns against us

Constantly having to combat liberal propaganda from those who simply cannot understand the pain and damage they are doing

Constantly having to defend ourselves from the overwhelming forces that stand in our way, from the Israeli forces to the global institutions that help support it to the structures in the US that mean that any Palestinian who dares speak out risk both their lives and livelihood

Constantly in fear of whether or not you’ll end up on another “list” as a result of daring to speak out

Constantly having to do it all again as soon as we’re back on the news

Constantly having to answer for all other Palestinians in a way that nobody else is expected to

Constantly being seen as the “crazy one” when trying to share your narrative, having to defend against an endless barrage of accusations of antisemitism

Constantly being put into situations by bad-faith actors who attempt to engage in “debate” or “discussion” or “dialogue” with talking points that demean and duhamanize you, all while being expected to maintain a smile and cool composure while someone literally debates to your face your own existence or how “actually it’s YOUR people’s fault you’re being slaughtered! Israel isn’t the bad guy here!”

Constantly being forced to choose between engaging in bad-faith debates framed in a way to make you look like the unreasonable bad guy while the person implicitly defending your ethnic cleansing is made to look like the “rational good guy” or looking after your own mental health, knowing that even refusing these “invitations” is itself a mark against you and your people

Constantly being told that you’re too “biased”, too “close”, too “emotional” about the literal slaughter of your people to be seen as a valid source, while Israelis and complete outsiders are given all the space they want to speak for us endlessly

Constantly seeing people being actively mislead and wondering if you have the capacity to reach out to them and attempt to share your narrative with them, knowing that if you don’t, they’re going to go on to propagate the same lies justifying your ethnic cleansing

Constantly having to combat GENUINE censorship throughout the media, social media, and society itself. It’s a fact proven by former Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Youtube employees that Palestinian voices have their reach censored in a way no one else does, which is why it’s so important to amplify and actively share Palestinian voices rather than just liking or indicating support

Constantly being told you don’t know your own history by people who’ve educated themselves on Youtube and Wikipedia despite having lived the reality yourself and dedicating your entire life to studying every single aspect of it

Constantly seeing those who have the courage to stand alongside you being shut down with accusations of antisemitism and seeing them lose their courage to stand by you out of fear of their own image and livelihood and having to rush to their defense as well

Constantly having to see photos of your people, sometimes even people you know, maimed, injured, murdered, or burned to ash by Israeli aggression but knowing you have a duty to share what’s happening and must stomach the images to show the world the true extent of the suffering we endure

Constantly having to worry not just for your own safety, but the safety of your family and loved ones who can be punished or targeted because of things you yourself say

Constantly wondering who you can actually trust, from new friends and acquaintances to professors to even other Palestinians because we’ve been so heavily infiltrated by Israeli intelligence looking to blackmail Palestinians using anything from their sexual orientation or even made up “evidence” meant to ruin their lives

Constantly having your heart sink every notification you get wondering if it’s news that a loved one has been killed

Constantly seeing the corpses of loved ones shared on social media and reliving the trauma all over again, yet again knowing that you WANT the world to see what’s happening

Constantly seeing the effects this has on your own family and feeling helpless to do anything

Constantly on alert for the FBI at your door as they often “visit” Palestinians who dare speak out, myself included on numerous occasions 

Constantly wondering if your advocacy for your people is going to result in the loss of your job, scholarship, license

Constantly being asked to “humanize” and “feel for” those who live their lives day in day out completely unfazed by your suffering despite living in a society that couldn’t even FUNCTION without our subjugation

Constantly being told “don’t blame regular Israelis, blame the government!!” as if the state itself wasn’t founded on our ethnic cleansing, as if it isn’t “normal Israelis” who make up the entirety of the Israeli Military and have actively brutalized you and your people

Seeing allies you fought for suddenly SILENT when it’s their time to speak up

Studying on a US campus where those SAME SOLDIERS WHO ENGAGED IN YOUR PERSECUTION AND ACTIVELY SERVED AS THE ENFORCERS OF YOUR OCCUPATION then re-enact the trauma against you and you’re meant to simply ignore the fact that THEY ARE THE SAME PEOPLE WHO MURDERED YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY, and not being allowed to even be ANGRY at that

Trying to navigate this half-life in the diaspora where it’s a struggle to connect with other Palestinians given the distance between us and yet not being able to connect with anyone around because, again, they simply can’t understand

Constantly being expected to simply give up your time to those who demand you answer them and debate your existence and narrative with them, who them take you blocking them for your own mental health as a “victory” to be lorded over you when you simply can’t take it anymore

Constantly having to EXPLAIN all of this because nobody but other Palestinians can truly understand just how pervasive, overwhelming, and incapacitating this unique form of exhaustion is

Constantly seeing your erasure and ethnic cleansing defended all over the media, all over social media, throughout your academic career, while those ENGAGED in your ethnic cleansing have the audacity to claim that the media is biased against THEM

Constantly on guard with everything you say and write, knowing that unlike those promoting our ethnic cleansing, we don’t have the luxury of making mistakes or getting lazy in our writing and advocacy. One mistaken source, mistaken information, being imperfect is enough to discredit your voice entirely

The crippling obligation you have to share the narrative of your people, knowing that so many people will view you as the spokesperson of your entire people, knowing how unfair it is, but also knowing that if you DON’T speak out, nobody will on your behalf, and even the most well-intentioned, involved allies can simply never understand how it all truly feels

Seeing the entire world stand by and do absolutely nothing while your people are slaughtered time and time again

Seeing your history misconstrued by people implicitly defending your ethnic cleansing and settler-colonialism

Knowing that our parents have been through this and more, seeing them have to go through this yet again while still being forced to go about their daily lives and given no time to mourn or recover

Not being able to even share our culture without being attacked for it

Knowing that so many of your friends and family won’t ever be able to return to their homeland while foreigners from around the globe are flown into Israel free because it’s their “birthright”

A “birthright” denied to even my own parents, born in Jerusalem yet unable to enter it

Having even self-proclaimed “allies” question Palestinian resistance, policing our tone, never /really/ understanding our pain and anger and how they themselves contribute to it

Screaming from the moment you can about what’s happening to us, desperately trying to get people to CARE, and having it often fall on deaf ears

Knowing that if you’re not the source of information for those genuinely seeking to learn, they may find themselves mislead by sources that claim to be fair and balanced while imprinting subtle lies about Palestine and Palestinians on those they engage with

Not even being able to find the energy and ability to respond to genuine messages of love and support, which are greatly appreciated, and feeling bad about it because you don’t want to seem like you’re not genuinely happy to hear it

Feeling a sense of overwhelming exhaustion in times like this while at the same time being unable to sleep

Seeing the effect all of this has had on your people, knowing your people have among the highest rates of depression on the planet and yet we’re all suffering together with no way to ease the pain

Being constantly exposed to the ways in which your people are erased and questioning if you have the energy or sanity left to deconstruct such aggression to help outsiders understand the severity of it all

Seeing allies suddenly call for “peace” when Palestinians are finally fed up enough to rise up and fight back against an overwhelming military force

I could go on, but in case you it’s not already clear, I’m tired and exhausted

Always wondering if any of this is even worth it when the world has ignored your slaughter and ethnic cleansing for nearly 8 decades, knowing that nobody is about to step in to help now.

Constantly wondering if any of this is even worth it, and then feeling inspired by fellow Palestinians, our resilience, the fact that despite ALL of this and more, we continue to fight.

Despite all of this, I would never even consider or entertain the thought of being born as anything other than Palestinian

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 21, part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Reunions

All together in The Unclean Realm, The Yunmeng trio find a spot inside where they can sit down and have a proper Yanli-Wuxian reunion, while Jiang Cheng sits across the table watching them. 

For years Jiang Cheng has been rejecting Wei Wuxian's free and easy affection; now Yanli might be the only person Wei Wuxian offers to hug until Wen Yuan comes into his life.

Jiang Cheng is really going through it. He'll do nearly anything for Yanli--except, uh, stay in the goddamn inn with her when she's sick and the Wens are hunting them--and what makes her happiest is Wei Wuxian. He's brought them together, and so he's happy, even though he's excluded from their dynamic. This absolutely fucking kills me.

Here Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian are sweetly pledging to always keep the trio together and put each other first. Neither of them will keep this promise. 

Wei Wuxian will leave first, to take the Wens to the Burial Mounds. Jiang Yanli will leave second, staying in Lanling at Jin Zixuan's request instead of accompanying Jiang Cheng to retrieve Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng will be the last to let go.

(more after the cut)

Nie Huaisang comes literally running in, filled with joy at Wei Wuxian's return. When he goes to pat his shoulder Wei Wuxian flinches away.

I feel like something important is happening in this rapid sequence of glances and expressions between Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang. NHS is startled, and WWX realizes he's shown something about himself that he didn't want to show. He glances at Jiang Cheng and back at NHS before laughing and covering his slip with a squeeze of NHS’s hand.

NHS switches from shocked to cheerful just as quickly, helping with the coverup. It’s like they have a quick mutual agreement, rooted in their history of shared shenanigans, to not point out that something is wrong.

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji is wandering around the grounds, having feelings. At this point it's presumably been at least a couple of weeks since their breakup fight. 

He sees Wei Wuxian sitting contemplating his flute, and as he sees him he goes from sort of neutrally apprehensive to full on angry judging, complete with sword clenching. 

Part of this may be that his feelings are hurt over their fight, but the larger issue is his distress over Wei Wuxian's apparent heretical cultivation.  That, at any rate, is what's on his mind when he's selecting music, later in the episode, and when he's selecting flashbacks. 

Party Time

Later, the Nies host an excruciating party to celebrate Wei Wuxian's slaughter of Wen Chao return. Jiang Yanli is sharing a table with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng is sharing a table with his crippling social anxiety. 

Everyone starts grilling Wei Wuxian about his sword, because that's suddenly all anybody cares about even though Jiang Yanli, Nie Huaisang, Meng Yao, and probably plenty of other people don't carry swords most of the time.

Wei Wuxian says "after the Wens caught me, Wen Zhuliu crushed my core, so I can't use my sword any more, too bad so sad, can we change the subject?" And everyone is very understanding and admires his resiliency. HA HA HA HA HA. Of course he doesn't opt for that simple lie, but instead mopes audibly without saying anything.

Nie Huasiang tries to change the subject by asking how he killed Wen Chao. Apparently "I had a sexy ghost mostly flay him" isn't good party chat, though, so neither Wei Wuxian nor Jiang Cheng opts to tell the story. 

Everyone lapses into awkward silence, all the more noticeable because there are no dancers, musicians, or entertainers of any kind at this event. OP has gone to audit-kickoff meetings that were more fun than cultivator banquets.

Moment of Clarity

While the awkwardness builds, we hear the sounds of the Song of Clarity. Lan Wangji is skipping the party, which is part of why Wei Wuxian is so mopey. But instead of sitting and stewing in his anger, Lan Wangji has shifted gears, and is starting to work on his "save Wei Wuxian's soul" plan.

This isn't the God-botherer version of soul saving, however. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian disagree about correct practice, but they both are still practitioners within the same spiritual system, and the majority of their beliefs are closely aligned.

Lan Wangji has powerful magic at his disposal, and now he's taking a step back from his plan of forcing persuading Wei Wuxian to give up heterodoxy, and instead he's preparing to use his magic to offset the consequences of Wei Wuxian's choice.

He still isn't ready to accept that choice, but he's working on it. This is a big moment for Lan Wangji's relationship with Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji is a deeply, deeply uncompromising person, as well as being super bossy, and he’s taking his first steps toward supporting Wei Wuxian’s free agency. 

Wei Wuxian leaves the party in the middle of Yao's toast, saying "I have to see you and your lover all over my tumblr dashboard but I am NOT going to listen to you talk!" He takes his wine to go roam around near Lan Wangji's quarters to pine and feel conflicted.  Lan Wangji has thoughtfully set up a projection scrim to catch his shadow and make the pining easier.

Jiang Cheng comes looking for Wei Wuxian, partly to reprimand him for rudeness and partly to see what the hell is wrong with him. Jiang Cheng is trying very hard to be pleasant. He's bad at it, but he's trying.

Wei Wuxian is trying to be unpleasant and he's pretty good at it. He won't say why he isn't using his sword. He’s obviously super fucking depressed about it, calling his former self childish for liking to spar, and only smiling once during the whole exchange.

He finally tells Jiang Cheng that he will always want to do the opposite of what Jiang Cheng tells him.  Jiang Cheng lets this go with an eyeroll.

(Point Break Quote Alert)

But actually this is a sign of trouble, right here in River City, with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for abandoning the Jiang Clan. Wei Wuxian has just told Jiang Cheng he has no intention of obeying him; not just about the sword, but in general. That's no way for a disciple to talk. 

OP has nothing to say about this gif. OP watches gif over and over and over and over

Wei Wuxian ends the conversation by tapping Jiang Cheng's chest with his flute and then walking away. The (still nameless) flute has no problem with this - does it, like Subian, recognize Jiang Cheng as an extension of Wei Wuxian?

The next day, Wei Wuxian is chilling in his room, looking ungodly sexy in his bold slashed robe, holy frack. I mean, he is sex-on-toast at all times, but the cut of his post-burial-mounds combo is particularly heart-stopping when he decides to stick a knee or two out. 

He's meditating and flashing back to being in the burial mounds, where he was also meditating. I admire his ability to fractally meditate about meditating. 

Chenqing

He didn't put a sock on the doorknob, so Jiang Yanli comes in and startles him. He brandishes his flute at her before calming down. The flute definitely does not see her as an extension of Wei Wuxian, because when she touches it, it smokes and then knocks her out of the frame so fast it's comical.

Did they put her in a jerk vest for that shot?

Wei Wuxian hides the flute from her, freaked out by its behavior. She, however, is unfazed, and gives him the first & only affirmation he's gotten about his new cultivation path, and says the flute is "like Mother's Zidian."  She kind of walks him through the whole "first class spiritual tool" concept, beaming with approval and telling him he must name the flute.  

Jiang Yanli is hardcore Jiang Clan, seriously. Freedom and impossibility. You survived 3 months of mystery trauma and now you're all fucked up? We'll roll with it. You have a demon flute now? Rock on. You're going to use necromancy to beat the other clans in a group hunt? Gold star for you.

He names the flute Chenqing, which @hunxi-guilai​ translates and explains in depth over here.

Bichen

Lan Wangji has finished practicing the Song of Clarity, and regardless of whether it's had an effect on Wei Wuxian, he himself seems much calmer. 

As Wei Wuxian contemplates Chenqing, Lan Wangji contemplates Bichen and remembers Wei Wuxian's assertions about resentful energy way back in Gusu summer school. 

This time when he grips his sword, it's loosely, as if he's made some progress with his anger.

Soup

Jiang Yanli sits Wei Wuxian down for some soup, and talks to him about what's going on with him, saying he's changed. He insists he's fine and works very hard to be convincing.

She's not convinced but says she won't press him, and then abruptly shifts tone and works very hard to act like everything is fine. She leaves, taking a lot of soup with her, and Wei Wuxian remarks that it's unfair she is giving so much to Jiang Cheng. But of course, some of it is secretly for Jin Zixuan.

Everything isn't fine, as Wei Wuxian scream-meditates with resentful energy just rolling off of him. He's got some of the dark energy stored in the Yin sword in his bag of holding, but I get the impression that a lot of it is just stored in his body.

Club Ruohan

At some point in the episode we stop in to check on Wen Ruohan. He and his wind machine are mad that Wen Chao is dead. 

Meanwhile, his interpretive dances with the Yin iron now turn his puppets into...Klingons? Sure, why not. 

Literal Stand-Up Meeting 

Jiang Cheng needs Wei Wuxian at games night a meeting and comes running to Jiang Yanli to find him. He is freaking out and she tells him to chill. 

No matter what fuckery is going on in the world, Jiang Yanli is going to find herself a nice little outdoor table and she is going to sit her ass down and have some tea and civilized lady activity. Queen.

This shot of the meeting is composed so nicely. The blocking (placement of actors) in this scene encapsulates the familial dynamics, and I’ll talk about that as soon as I finish admiring Jiang Cheng’s proportions. 

Here we have four clans represented by four family pairs around the game war table. The Jin cousins, despite their differing personalities, are side by side, matchy-matchy, in lockstep. Jin Zixuan lets Jin Zixun do the talking for him, so maintains his own rep as a reasonable guy.  

The Nie brothers are even closer together, also in matching greys, Nie Huaisang giving all of his attention to his brother/clan leader. You can see his careful watching of his brother's temper...not fearful for himself, but fearful for Mingjue.

The Lan brothers have a growing distance between them; they are in different colors (which is pretty usual for them), and Lan Wangji is standing well away from his brother and the rest of the group. Partly this is his personality, but it's also symbolic of his growing distance from his brother and other proper cultivators. He's carrying WWX-related secrets, and he's wrestling with what he's learned.  

While Nie Huaisang is looking at Mingjue, Lan Xichen is turning around to see what's up with his own volatile sibling.

Lastly you have Jiang Cheng, alone in the room, with his shidi nowhere to be found, and seriously feeling the heat because of his isolation. 

He's alone in his purple, but the color value (lightness/darkness) of his robes exactly matches Xichen's. 

And Xichen, bless him, makes a point of speaking to him respectfully as a fellow clan leader, gives him a path out of the "where is your brother" conversation, and is just generally his kind and helpful self with Jiang Cheng.

Next: Awkwardness Increases!