#anything wrong and I’ll die on that hill rip if she does I’ll become an apologist

[mazojo]

We all like, agree collectively that Aqua is like, the scummiest person on earth correct?

[kaeyas-beloved]

Hi!

Could I please ask for IkeRev HCs for Ray, Fenrir and Luka. What are they like as Older brothers to a younger sister who’s still a teenager, 16/17 ish?

Thank you!

Ray Blackwell, Fenrir Godspeed, Luka Clemence || Ikemen Revolution

Warning(s): Slight spoilers for Fenrir's & Luka’s route (nothing major tho), maybe some OOCness since I haven't picked up IkeRev in some time - but other than that none (do tell me if I’m wrong though ^^)

Note: Hello! I’m really sorry for taking such a long time to write this (honestly I wrote and re-wrote this a handful of times and I still don't even know if they're that great...)

Still, I hope they’re good enough and that you enjoy them - thank you for requesting!

She/Her pronouns are used to address the reader/younger sister

---------------------------

Older Brother to Younger, Teen Sister HCs 

Ray Blackwell

Ray’s such a calm older brother in the sense that he’s both never intruding in on your personal space & gives you your freedom while still being able to know when he has to step up and protect you (even though he wants to protect you all the time)

Growing up the both of you were close (Fenrir was thrown in that mix too with how often the two boys hung out) But after Ray joined the army, steadily climbing the ranks and you stuck focusing on your studies you guys kind of drifted apart for sometime

You aren’t sure who started it but soon you found yourselves sending each other letters as a way to stay in touch (your letter more often than not having a picture of Belle tucked inside)

The little kitty loves you by the way - you’re his second favourite hooman (it’s cause you spoil him with cuddles), Ray’ll sometimes get jealous when the feline snuggles up to you because he thinks that his own cat loves you more than him

One day though you were walking home from school and passed an alleyway, faintly hearing someone baby talk to something. Curiosity got the better of you and that’s how you found your older brother, cross legged on the dirty street coddling one too many street cats

Though you do travel to that particular spot a lot now (usually as a way to procrastinate destress from school (or simply because you love cats like Ray does)) You’ll also keep them company when Ray can’t

Ray hates it when you go out late at night since anything could happen to you. It nags at the back of his mind a lot, that one day something might happen to his precious little sister and that he might not be there to save you. Old wounds and feelings resurface at the list of possibilities that come to mind.

He doesn’t want history to repeat itself, he doesn’t want to be unable to protect you from danger. So anytime that you visit headquarters and you stay late you either simply stay the night or have an escort take you home. You can choose which option you’d like but Ray’s not taking a ‘no’ as any form of an answer

Calls you dufus just because he can (but affectionately). Might also ruffle your hair and/or pat you on the shoulder

You call him an old man because he can’t stay up past 10PM (Ray’ll then make some kind of comment regarding Sirius and how he’s more of an old man, to which you both laugh until the man himself makes his presence behind you known)

Absolutely the kind of brother to move things you need off a shelf out of your reach before proceeding to walk away with a satisfied smile on his face

Also the kind of brother to tease you about any cute boys/girls/people that he catches you staring at or gushing about (but he’ll stop if you tell him seriously to stop)

Do you like books? Ray likes books. He has a lot of books. Take a book, please he has too many--

If you enjoy reading, Ray is constantly recommending you novels, letting you read them before casually asking you your opinion on certain characters or events when you’re returning it. But even if you're not an avid reader he may still hand you a book or two that he knows you'll enjoy

Like mentioned earlier, Ray is very busy with Army work and such but honestly, out of everyone in the Black Army, he’s the second best person to come to with homework (second only to Sirius). Especially with history. Like, you need the entire history of the Black Army or Cradle? He’s got you, he had to read up on it when he was on the road to becoming the King of Spades.

Really, you could just pop right into his office at anytime, ask your question and Ray will be able to answer without missing a beat before going back to whatever he was doing

You can always come to Ray for anything. Questions, complaints you name it he’ll listen to your woes/answer however he can.

You guys bond over your teacher(s) giving too much homework; Ray reminiscing when he was your age and in high school - he completely understands the struggle (it was excruciating. All the work prolonged the sweet embrace of a good night’s sleep T~T)

There’s someone who’s picking on you? Don’t worry he’ll deal with them >:)

He might not always know how he can help or comfort you since he’s not the best with words when it comes to certain things, but that won’t stop him from at least helping where he can

Will never let anything happen to you -- Ray protects you with his life and he'll use any power he has if it means that you can walk out unharmed, that’s how much he cares for you

Fenrir Godspeed

Fenrir doubles as both your older brother and your best friend

110% flaunts how you’re the coolest little sister a brother could have to anyone that will listen (most of the time it’s the Black Army tho)

Flips between calling you by name, ‘sis’ and any other ridiculous nickname he can come up with (but don’t worry - you have an equally stupid name for him)

Considers you his best buddy (aside from Ray that is)

Fenrir’s also the kind of brother to pat his sister’s head, ruffle her hair, give gentle noogies and shake her around by the shoulders/poke her playfully then go ‘wasn’t me’. Just like these wholesome little things that mean no harm or anything

I also like the idea of Fenrir giving his sister piggyback rides - it's just a nice thought, please don't take this away from me I beg of you T-T

Best bro Fenrir picks you up from school every day, no ifs, ands or buts! Usually, he’ll buy you your favourite sweet/snack and give it to you when he gets there.

Brings Shu Shu along as well and the three of you will talk about what happened at school or anything exciting that may have happened as he walks you either home or to the barracks

You’re both very chaotic + Ray joins in too most of the time. Quite a few pranks happen when you’re at Black HQ (RIP the Black Army when you come over and you three triple team them).

Harmless pranks I promise!

Fenrir may take one of your belongings (a brush, your favourite book or an accessory) and run around the place with the only way of you getting it back is to catch him

There was this one time you snuck tomatoes into his food to see if he’d notice.

Spoiler alert: he most certainly did

After that he kinda ignored you for the rest of the day as payback, pouting and pretending like you weren’t there, saying stuff like ‘huh? Did you hear that?” At the end of the day though he wasn't mad and was able to laugh it off (it doesn’t erase the betrayal he felt tho)

Once in a while you’ll also poke fun at his fear of ghosts, saying off hand that there’s one at the end of the hall, down in the cellar or behind him. You never go too far though - not after the time that a prank of yours left him really shaken. You’ve never seen him so scared in your life and don’t plan to again.

Oliver’s soul nearly left his body when he first met you and learned that you took after your troublesome brother

Fenrir loves helping you with any school work you have cause he likes being a dependable brother for you! …The only problem is that sometimes he doesn’t know how to. Like, he grasps the basic concepts of what you’re talking about, but if you ask him how to calculate acceleration or a parabola he draws a blank - you’ve lost him.

Pls cut him some slack tho he’s trying his best and just the thought alone is sweet 🥺

Compared to his best buddy Ray, the Ace of Spades has quite a bit of free time, which he spends by dropping by the family home where you still live for surprise visits.

Most greetings start with “There’s my favourite sister!” with you adding on “I’m your only sister Fenrir…”

You still welcome him with a smile, open arms and a hug :)

Swears up, down and on his life to keep you and army affairs separate, he’s NOT going to expose his little sister to the violence that comes with his occupation. He stands firm on this decision. This topic is one of the only times you’ll see him actually serious

You’re not stupid though, you know what goes on, and, because of this, every time you hear in passing that the gun crazed Ace of Spades was at it again - launching himself straight into battle - there’s this pang of anxiety that rattles you to your core. You’re sure that there always will be no matter how much times passes

As a sum up - very loving and goofy brother/best friend with the addition of lots of pranks and battle scares 😎✌️

Luka Clemence

You know how in game Luka starts off as kinda cold to MC/Alice? Yeah there's none of that with his little sister

Usually when hanging around her he's most of the time adorning a small smile cause he finds joy in being around her

The relationship you have is a VERY close one considering that, while growing up in the prestigious Clemence household, it was basically you and Luka against the world

Sometimes Luka fears that you’re really lonely back at home because he’s not around as much as he used to be ever since joining the Black Army. Therefore, every week he’s set aside at the bare minimum a whole day (or at least an afternoon/evening) to go visit you - or for you to visit him!

Y’all cooking buddies and I’ll die on this hill

Luka teaches you any and everything he knows about cooking all the way to baking. He’ll even write down recipes for your favourite dishes so you can make them when he’s not there.

Whenever you’re visiting the Black Army and it’s Luka’s turn to make dinner you pitch in and help. He’ll make some of the dishes while you make the others.

The Black Army adores your cooking since you have such a great teacher/brother

Luka lets you hold/pet/feed/take care of Stone. You’re the only exception he makes when it comes to his furry companion

Don’t swear around him he’ll die (that is, after getting told by the other Black Army officers why it's such a bad thing and a big deal)

Lets you hold his sword once but you ended up nearly toppling over because it was heavier than you first anticipated.

Would play the violin for you while you study if you asked him, especially if you bring up that it helps you concentrate better

Sibling fights are non-existent. The only time that there’s a chance of you butting heads is when Luka starts pushing himself too much with training or the conversion involves Jonah

Speaking of the Queen of Hearts--

It’s a constant tug of war between the two brothers on who gets to spend the day with you. Luka’s scowling, Jonah’s pouting and you’re wondering what you have to do to get your brothers to get along (or at least have it where you’re not in the middle of it all)

Very supportive of whatever you want to do with your life. Luka also tells you every once in a while that you can always come live in Black territory or even the barracks when you’re a little older if you want to

All the more should Jonah/your parents ever try to enforce something on you (like some kind of lesson/social norms for Red Territory that you don’t like etc.). Luka will 100% whisk you away into Black Territory to get away from it all, just say the word.

All in all each of the boys are wrapped around their little sister's finger and would do anything to keep her safe and happy :)

-------------------

Thank you again for requesting!

[Masterlist]

[xxxdragonfucker69xxx]

@lyhoradka​ tagged me in that post about five bits of text from written media that are burned into your brain and, kindly, gave me a theme of places. i am going to annotate this because i am a bitch

1. holy places are dark places. the wisdom that we get in them is not thin and clear like water but thick and dark like blood. - cs lewis, till we have faces

im almost certain ive misremembered this one but its better this way. clive what the devil fuck were you trying to say with till we have faces. burn it down and start over with this. i have a sidenote about hope faith and love but thats beyond the scope of this discussion

2. night falls. the workers put down their tools and point to the sky. “there is the blueprint,” they say.  invisible cities, italo calvino

again idr if its sky or stars. this is the description of thecla from invisible cities, kindly appointed to me by my good friend venus. this is not the strongest one but it is a strong one and its for Me and i remember it. inna thought i was going to make this whole post about haunted houses and this one is completely the opposite; i’ll consider it aspirational

3. walk to the east till you can walk no more. swim east until you pass the sunrise; swim east until you pass the stars; swim east until you come to the edge of the sky. there you will find yourself on the shores of a different land. even in that place, they shall know your name, and mine. - adel, kc danine/unlikely flowerings, jenna moran

sorry i cheated on this one bc i looked up the attribution and found my memory was wrong. but i cut it up to match what i thought. this one is actually a combo with

3a. the sea will be the color night behind glass. then, slowly, it becomes green: first rain-wet slate, then darkest jade. green as fresh emeralds. green as remembered rivers - the sun beneath the sea, sunless seas

again ive hashed the first part of that but green as remembered rivers lives in my head rent free. these two live under the heading “an exile in the uttermost east”

4. THIS IS NOT A PLACE OF HONOR. NO HIGHLY VALUED DEED IS REMEMBERED HERE. NOTHING OF VALUE IS STORED HERE. 

the warning continues of course but the basis is here. the idea that we cannot produce something so horrifying and terrifying that it does not also fascinate us, as you might guess, fascinates me. nightmare and obsession are such close brothers

5. a woman drew her hair out tight/and fiddled in the violet light/and upside down in air were towers/tolling reminiscent bells that kept the hours/and voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.

in my head sean bean reads these lines in his civ vi voice. why did so much weird fiction pattern weird bits of worldbuilding after this bit. not that i am immune. voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhauuusted wells

BONUS CONTENT

so many things i wanted to add that werent written or that i didnt have memorized perfectly enough

1i. the, like, entire first half of to tundra by los camp, which i will reproduce below

meet me at st nicholas among the oaks behind the church that sway like pigtailed girls as summer wind whistles around your bare-shin knees and the forsythia leaves in the shade lay with me tickled by the feather reeds thats where the trees grow old under the ivys hold as you in my two arms equally safe from harm and in a hazy daydream our bodies married the stream and we broke down into pebbles and silt the water ran from the fields until the oceans we filled and found the seabed the comfiest quilt

there was more life in the weeds than in the few hundred seats that rose from transept to chancel to nave [...]

2i. prim leaves her father’s house. i won’t reproduce the whole story here but there’s a girl prim and her father is the god hansa and they live in a house of iron nails and one day her dad is killed and she has to go bury him and takes nothing but his corpse and a single iron nail. and she traipses all across creation and the void looking for somewhere to bury him but every time she tries his corpse shouts at her for being shit at it. and eventually she collapses, and drops the nail and it springs right up into the same exact house, and she imagines crawling in there with her fathers corpse to die next to him and freaks out and then

A pale face came before her and she was abruptly struck from her despair as though by a great hammer. A beautiful stranger had appeared, mild and tall, of milky flesh, spare in figure, but radiant in voice and visage. "I know you," said the stranger in a small voice, "you are Prim."

"I was Hansa's orphan, the slave, Prim," croaked Prim in response, "and now I am nobody, just a small dirty thing in great emptiness and here I will die."

"No," said the stranger, and the clarity and firmness of her voice and smile send a shock through Prim, "you are Prim, and Prim only, and Prim you shall be." And Prim there realized her tears had made a great pool and she was greeting her own reflection. And she fell into that murky pool and straight away it turned clear as crystal and Prim vomited forth a great black knot from very deep within her, and her body was scoured and lashed by the icy waters of that pool, and great draughts of poisonous filth and despondency were drawn in rushing gasps from her wounds, and her skin was sealed and her soiled trappings were purged and the caked illness and death was ripped away and she rose from that pool fresh and humming. Her back straightened and she scarcely thought on her father's corpse or the faintest echo of that iron house.  That is how Prim left her father's house.

so basically abaddon scooped all of tsiy and every other haunted house writer in like five thousand words

3i. berenike

From my words you will have reached the conclusion that the real Berenice is a temporal succession of different cities, alternately just and unjust. But what I wanted to warn you about is something else: all the future Berenices are already present in this instant, wrapped one within the other, confined, crammed, inextricable.

4i. a ghost does not come to stand in the dark doorway of your room because it is an 18th century orphan girl named annie. a ghost comes to stand in the doorway of your room because the doorway is where things come to stand. - i am in eskew, david ward

the formats all fucked up now huh. this has influenced my thoughts on both psychogeo and necromancy. what a fucking guy. theres also the pope lick bridge one but

5i. i hope you will forgive me for including a bit from tsiy

I opened my eyes. I was kneeling at the base of a tree, at the top of a grassy hill, under starry night. Dad was standing a little ways back, head craned back to look at the tree. "What is this place to you?" he asked, looking around. The island came to an abrupt stop at the edges; it wasn't a floating island in space or anything, there just.....wasn't anything beyond the edge of it. Like looking past the edge of your own eyesight -- not the blackness of eyelids, but the colorless place beyond.

"I'll die here someday," I said, and meant it.

i really need to work on getting places and haunted places into the new draft. im slacking. but im also not allowed to go back and change anything rn or ill just never get anywhere

[phantaloon-books]

I finally read The Tyrant's Tomb and boi I loved this one so much, so here's some my opinion on it (they're not in chronological order)

warning, this is long af and sorry for cursing a bit, I can't help it

Apollo's character arc is lowkey one of the best Rick has written, I'm sorry if you don't agree, but he's gone from wanting others to solve his problems and relying on the halfbloods to intentionally avoiding others doing things for him, volunteering for the quests and saying it should be him that faces the terrible stuff so that demigods and other creatures don't suffer

something really interesting is how his perception of himself has changed, and it's almost worrying how genuinely self depreciating his inner dialogue is, because he no longer sees himself as mighty Apollo, he sees himself as worthless and useless Lester, and his narration is highkey depressing

Also, Apollo disliking and being somewhat disgusted of the god he used to be, realizing the horrible things he had done and how horrible he was and that he looked worse as the former Apollo than as Lester, regretting things he'd done, that's top tier development

(I'm sorry but I love the entire scene with the ravens, the part where he just screams "I'm sorry" it feels as if he isn't just apologizing to the ravens, but to everyone who's been affected by what he's done as a selfish god)

Reyna so openly turning down and laughing at Apollo for suggesting they be together is my favorite thing ever lmao I couldn't stop laughing, like she knew what gods can do if you turn them down (even if it was just mortal Lester) and she didn't give a damn, it was so fucking funny

people say Rick only includes diversity for the sake of including it and to gain popularity, but I still enjoy the fact that he does, because as a teacher he must have had all kinds of students of all religions, colors and sexualities, he includes diversity because he's seen diversity. anyway my point is I love that we have Lavinia, a Jewish lesbian from a Russian family, and she's not ashamed of being any of them

I'm sorry I just love Apollo so much, I've grown to respect him so much, and even if Hermes once said them gods often forget their oaths and promises, I have a feeling Apollo won't ever forget Jason's request that he never forgets what's it like to be mortal

Frank still admiring Apollo despite everything, and despite the fact that he looks like a messed up teen makes me go all uwu

Frank being portrayed as this clumsy and awkward kid but also this powerful and brave leader is my favorite thing ever because I think Frank is underrated and I dare to say that he's one of the strongest demigods we've ever met, even stronger than some of the nig three children

the whole thing about the undead army is honestly so creepy, especially when we see it from Apollo's perspective cause se him slowly succumb to the venom's effect, and that part in Tarquin's tomb where he "calls Lester to be part of his undead" was genuinely disturbing, at least to me

some books in the past have touched the part of the nature spirits not being given enough attention, but I really enjoyed how Apollo comes to realize that he only worries about demigods and gods when all lives are worth the same - mortals, halfbloods, nature spirits, gods, and even monsters

again, I love Apollo's arc, it's just AHH he's becoming so caring of life it just makes me happy

Reyna choosing herself to make herself happy is everything, and inspiring to every single woman who is told by others that they need someone to be happy, I just love it, because self love is the most important love of all

I haven't said anything about it, but man I love Meg and Apollo's friendship, they just care so much for each other, Meg who's so scared of losing her loved ones and Apollo who's so scared of not being able to be loved or to love, but they still love each other, and I'm glad it's not romantic, because yes fraternal love is also what people need, and their friendship is what they need

aurum and argentum being cute doggos rather than the steely (no pun intended) and cold dogs we met in HoO warms my heart. I don't understand why they're so cute and adorable, or maybe that's just how Apollo sees them, but they seem to act like actual dogs in this book

the fact that Reyna never confirmed nor denied being attracted to Thalia just makes me all hyped up, like we love Theyna

Apollo just gives off Eddie Brock vibes throughout the entire book and that's hilarious asf. ever since the start he's said to look like shit, feel like shit and be injured with deathly poison that will turn him to a zombie. if that isn't Venom vibes I don't know what is

I've said it once and I'll say it again, Frank Zhang is one of the strongest demigods Rick has ever introduced in a series, and him facing two immoral and godly in power emperors, burning one to death with his own life fire and injuring the other enough for Apollo to do the final kill is top tier

"If I'm going to burn, I might as well burn bright. This is for Jason." bitch actual goosebumps

We've seen countless deaths before, but something about Frank killing Caligula and Apollo killing Commodus seems so... mature I guess is the word, or well for a more mature audience. I can't describe how or why, but it feels more real, more like actual human death

I can't deal with how human Apollo seems in this book gosh I really am sorry I keep bringing this up, but I feel such warmth

the story of how Frank overcame his curse is actual BS and as much as I love Frank, it makes no sense that they spent all that time thinking of ways to keep the wood secure only for this. idk I mean id that were the case wouldn't the curse had vanished when he broke Thanatos free? he was willing to die then just like against Caligula, so why now but not then?

Don reincarnating into a laurel is peak bittersweet feeling and it actually hurt because in a camp where fauns were seen as dumb and useless, he helped Lavinia organize everything and destroy the canon things on the yachts

I'm still not over Jason's death, he really did deserve better. It makes sense, plotwise, because out of all of the huge characters from the past, Jason, Percy and Annabeth's deaths would impact others the harder, and push them to do better. And I understand that you gotta show, not even the main characters survive sometimes. Still, I'm hurt.

Thalia talking to Apollo during the funeral for the fallen campers made me actually weep. I'm not sure if it was because of Jason, or when Thalia talked about how much Artemis loves Apollo, or when Apollo "accepted" halfblood children of Zeus as his family

Also, you know who deserved better? Harpocrates, damn right he deserved better. I nearly cried when I read his death, cause he embraced it like one would an old friend in happiness. He and the Sybil deserved better. Dakota also deserved better

On the other hand, I tried so hard not to laugh at 2 am as I read Tarquin demand answers from a cat? he genuinely thought a cat would tell him where the Sybilline Books where and I couldn't handle that

This book is cruel but in a much more human way? The maiming of the pegasi wings? that's horrifying, but in such a human way, unlike what we've seen in any of the greek/roman gods series, and it's unsettling

Meg is braver than any of the other demigods were at that age (maybe excepting Nico), cause she's not embarking on a quest to retrieve an item or rescue someone or bring back their sister from the dead, she's facing her own abusive father while aiding a somewhat weak mortal in releasing the oracles and gaining godhood back. what's she getting from it all? absolutely nothing, she's gifted some seeds and she hangs out with unicorns more than other people and she's lost everything, but she's willing to lose more to help her friend. she's heroic like no one else is, because she's the first who doesn’t want anything more than being with her friend (Percy wanted whoever was taken back, Annabeth wanted to be able to be more, Nico wanted to bring back Bianca, even Bianca wanted freedom). the only other person who didn't have somewhat selfish (but kot wrong) interests while doing something heroic at a young age has been Hazel. What I mean is I love Meg and everything she does

Thalia being that chill over Jason's death bothers me so much, as if she wasn't the happiest when she found out the brother she lost 14 years ago was alive after all, and she had a part of her family back, and it was ripped from her, and Thalia is just not one to easily forget or move on from things, it's just unrealistic that she would only need a little furious session of throwing things to be okay with Jason's death as if her brother was not just taken from her all over again. it's impulsive Thalia we're talking about, who fought Percy when dealing with Annabeth going missing, it's just not her to be over his death that quickly. Sorry for Rick but I think differently

I also kinda don't like that Tyson went from being freaking General of the Cyclops, to the guy that has the Sybilline prophecies or whatever, it's important and all, but he would have been of great help during the battle and they had him waiting for help in the shrine hill like his potential went down the drain

but a thing I really loved was how different Camp Jupiter seems from Lester eyes compared from Percy's or Hazel's or Frank's perspective, it's hilarious. The other three see this place where everyone is serious and shit but Apollo just sees beyond the seriousness and it's actually refreshing, cause he's the first not to make CHB seem immature in comparison and like I said before I hated that in previous books

also Reyna laughing watered my plants, cured my depression, and made the world okay again, I just love her

all in all, this is my favorite book of ToA so far, and I'm really excited to see what's to come, and how Apollo and Meg will face Nero and Python, but more  than anything I'm looking forward to what will happen to Apollo, and whether if given the choice, he'd go back to being a selfish god or remain mortal for a while, with his newfound friends

Also I really miss Annabeth so can I please see Annabeth, I just want to see her cause she won't deal with Apollo's shit and I can't wait to see that, I miss my girl

[readermagnifique]

Anne with an E Season 3 finale!

Spoilers.

Good grief I am in LOVE!!!

I want to have a character on this show for the sole purpose of having a bisexual affair with Winnie Rose, no I am not taking constructive criticism at this time.

Josie Pye counting the hours until she can get away from all the whispers and snide comments that she is definitely still getting, and probably mostly from her parents broke my heart she deserves to fly they all do.

Ruby is still a little gem and I love her.

Shirbert Part I: They are so proud of each other, look at those cute grins.

Moody still holds the title of best awkward comments.

"Congratulations"

"Congratulations"

You poor dumb dumb babies I love you both.

Miss Stacy is the best you can't change my mind. Potato lightbulbs forever indeed.

"7 days until we spread out wings and soar" Tiny babies, we stan.

"It's your future, not theirs"

"It's not your future, it's ours!"

This next scene was heartbreaking.

The Barry's were getting better and I hate them again now.

Matthew Cuthbert you are a cute potato and your one (1) flaw in life is pushing people away to protect them. We stan.

Mummy Lacroix learning to be softer is what I am here for!

Shirbert Part II: Beautiful! Sublime! This letter was everything we've been wanting to hear since day 1. Also definitely breaking his promise to Winnie to not say ANYTHING about not being engaged for 2 weeks, but we'll let it slide because you're cute as a button, and the pen mention at the end was the cherry on top.

I honestly expected her to completely miss the fact that the letter was even there. Never expected her to rip it, and was even better when she ran around trying to find the pieces, and GOT IT COMPLETELY WRONG! You are the most adorable tiny human, and this had me shaking my head not knowing whether to be frustrated or laughing.

Diana being almost catatonic at the idea of her future broke me. It is not being talked about enough, this was heartbreaking.

"I can't fly"

"My poor Diana, they've clipped your wings" This was beautifully tragical, and so so sad. Dalila Bela was phenomenal in this whole episode - more on that later.

Marilla being the best Mum. She has grown so much and she is the sweetest. This whole episode she was a damn star! I love her! She's done a complete 180° from where she started, from big things like being kinder and more open with those she loves, to small things like making a dress with beautiful, most definitely expensive, blue velvet for her girl.

Elijah redemption arc - I love a redemption arc, and they are the hill I will die on thanking you. And Bash learning to forgive him and allow him into his daughter's life - this was inspired, thank you Moira!!!

Marilla talking the Barrys round to the idea of Diana's desire to control her own life not being a selfish one was beautifully done. Just her being careful and considerate as she has always been at her core.

Miss Stacy and Anne both giving beautiful presents to each other - and MISS STACY WRITING KINDRED SPIRITS ON THE FRAME WAS SPECTACULAR!!! And her conversation about happiness was so sweet and caring, and mentioning depression in her own way did anyone else notice this?

Marilla being so excited about letters of Anne's past, and putting Matthew straight, just like he did earlier in the series.

Matthew crying; I can't cope with it. End of discussion, couldn't deal. He's too sweet.

Elijah is going to be such a good big brother now he's doing his best.

Anne packing away her room; so beautifully filmed, and so bittersweet. She has loved this little room more than anywhere else, and it's lovely.

Jane and Josie are friends again? They're stood together in the line, and no snide comments. They smile to each other while the matron was talking. Was there a deleted scene or something? Can someone write their reconciliation as a one shot? I want to see Jane learn like Prissy exactly what her family is.

Anne is definitely going to learn sign language, I will place good money on those odds. Just you watch her.

Somehow the matron reminds me of the librarian in Monsters University?

Anne putting her necklace on the bed meant for Diana.

The girls being excited and giggling in pure delight with each other, dancing and carefree, away from the small minds of their town. Beautiful and inspirational, and most of it is down to Anne, you cannot change my mind.

Miss Stacy screaming in excitement for Gilbert going to Uni! His yelling with her!

Mummy Lacroix learning from her son to help him forgive his own stepson. Redemption arcs all around in the Lacroix farm.

Siblings united at last. Mary would have been the happiest woman to see this.

AUNT JO! MY ULTIMATE FAVOURITE!!! LIFE GOALS!!! I LOVE HER!

Can we all just appreciate that Cole has been at art school carefully studying and perfecting the Gay Artist Walk™ and he is doing so well? The hips. The hands. Look at that beautiful carefully learnt carelessly elegant flounce! That is Growth.

Jo calling Marilla Anne's mother and how happy it makes her.

ANNE'S PRINCESS MOMENT! THAT DRESS! I CAN'T EVEN! ABSOLUTE PERFECTION!!!

Anne is the bravest of women, so strong, and all of those closest to her know this.

Cole and Jerry are the best brothers, you cannot prove this wrong.

Anne takes that moment to break apart on one that she trusts with her life, and one who she knows trusts her with his, and then just as quickly pulls herself back together again and carries on. She just needed that moment, and he knew to give it to her.

The cows are Pride and Prejudice and this is fantastic.

Matthew you adorable bean, and I cannot cope with you tearing up twice in one episode.

Anne with her dress, and gloves, and parasol. Mesmerising.

Mrs Thomas is hilarious.

"They were SCOTTISH!"

"He's DEAD! You know that." Cracking up laughing.

I want to know who Katie was? This is the second time she's been brought up. The imaginary friend who lives in glass cabinets. Other than that we know nothing, and I need to know more.

The book.

I want to have a character on this show for the sole purpose of having a bisexual affair with Winnie Rose, no I am not taking constructive criticism at this time.

I fully and completely believe that after they sorted out the fact that neither of them had any idea what the other was bloody talking about, Anne and Winnie are pen pals, and they're going to chat about Paris and Uni and become good mates. I am here for Anne's respect for other women, and you know for a fact that she has never said or thought a bad word about Winnie from day one, because none of it has ever been her fault. And Winnie has been understandably angry, but once she stops hurting over Gilbert (and has a bisexual affair with me that is definitely going to happen I swear) she will be happy to call Anne a friend, because she has always been loyal to her friends and never made a move on her man while he was hers, even when drunk and looking gorgeous after the exams.

The train. How amazing was every scene on this damn train. Diana going to Uni, hearing about Gilbert not going to Paris and not engaged, but also not going to queen's and definitely not sorting things her friend and this is unacceptable??? Her face??? Incredible!!!

Anne running in that dress is a vision.

Diana's face as she sits in the chair opposite Gilbert. And he smiles politely and has to do a double take because the FuRy??? Of this girl??? Phenomenal.

I am always here for whenever Anne has her hair down.

Diana going HARD for Anne. On a public train. Fully laying in to the smartest and dumbest boy in her class.

Diana is a wonder, all she needed was friendship with an unlikely redheaded orphan brat to unlock her imagination, and that redheaded orphan is the girl who has saved her from misery and drudgery and brought colour into her life, and she deserves so much better than the confusion Gilbert has been giving her this whole time and Diana is throwing EVERYTHING at him and I am here for this ride or die friendship!!!

"DIANA WHAT LETTER???" THE URGENCY THIS POOR BOY!!!

This running montage was perfection, then the silence just as they saw each other. Majestic.

That gentle hand on her cheek, asking permission, then the kiss.

And then Anne Shirley Cuthbert does the most Anne Shirley Cuthbert thing and pinches herself to check it's real.

And Gilbert So-Smart-And-So-Dumb Blythe still had to check that she loves him as much as he loves her and both of these reactions are the most valid thing I have ever witnessed.

And that second kiss; Anne "If I wanted to kiss a boy, couldn't I just, kiss him?" Shirley Cuthbert going for it, I am here for it on every level, I hope it's within the correct timespan for visiting suitors, because you're definitely not in the parlour Anne!

Anne not even getting mad that he's leaving just after he kisses her, she is so understanding what a damn angel.

And Gilbert desperately trying to reassure her before he has to run off again. That hand kiss, I am swooning over their romantical notions, the pair of them!

"DiANA???"

"Can I still be your roommate?" Look at this baby, with her witty quips and dramatic entrances! I adore that Anne has found a home among people who are just as dramatic as she is.

Mr Barry redeaming himself somewhat - "Take the carriage! Run boy! Accomplish your dreams!" He's learning, it's all we can ask for. Maybe next season I'll begin to like you again.

That hop out of the carriage, the return of the flirty eyebrows, that kiss; Mr Blythe! Straight out of a romance novel! He knows how to put his romantical notions into action.

"I have follow up questions."

Marilla and Matthew running with the book! The book itself! Mummy Shirley had red hair!!! Baby Anne's First Picnic!!! "Their handwriting looks like mine." !!!

"You are a wish come true, I never knew I was making" Marilla tear my heart out why don't you?!?!

Dear Gilbert I look like my mother.

This was a phenomenal, perfect ending to this series, we were not only fed, but giving a ten course meal, thank you Moira!!! Only thing I could have wished for was more Jerry, because he is a tiny baby, and more ka'kwet. Also the brutal and gruesome death of Billy Andrews would have been a nice bonus, but I'm happy to wait until season 4 that is definitely going to happen.

Now just give me a character on this show for the sole purpose of having a bisexual affair with Winnie Rose. Jo and Gertie 2.0! Meeting in a Parisian bookshop! Yes please!!!

[cyrelia-j]

[fic] Inside a Dream VII (Garak/Bashir and others)

staAs part of my update project here is chapter 7 at last with more angst of course but leading into some garashir smut next chapter. For @alexisafanst

Past Parts are here:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Summary: Still AU but not really an AU set at the end of everything show/books. This is inspired by book stuff but definitely diverges from book canon.

After Sarina’s death and Julian’s coma, Julian dreams. With the aid of a device provided by the other augments, Garak is able to bring that world to life. And then Jack shows up in the flesh, wanting “his” Julian back. Garak is forced to confront the truths he didn’t want to face and decide if he’s going to fight for him. But that isn’t his only difficulty decision, and he’s not the only one at stake.

Pairings: Mainly garashir but also tragic Garak/Parmak and past Jack/Julian (really Jack pack/Julian). Finally decided on end game Garak/Bashir and Jack/Parmak (It’ll make sense, I swear just have to get there first)

Warnings: ANGST, Drama, Romance, falling in love [again maybe] and bittersweetness with much tragedy to be had, (No one’s gonna die though, I promise :))

Warn your warmth to turn away

Here, it's December every day (I like that)

Press your lips to the sculptures

And surely, you'll stay (love like winter)

For of sugar and ice

I am made, I am made

In four hours he wakes and realizes that it’s his head resting on Jack’s shoulder now, Jack awake, fingers softly typing on the keys one handed, thumb his his mouth, a study of concentration. The moment that Parmak’s eyes settle on him, he sees a jerk of the hand away from his mouth with a long breath out.

“That’s not necessary,” Parmak says, sitting up straight as he’s able with a wince. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“It isn’t Correct,” Jack mumbles as his hand stops on the keys. There’s a compulsive wipe of his hand over his pants over and over as Parmak adjusts his glasses and looks at the monitor. He blinks when he sees it.

“You-”

“I fixed it for you,” Jack answers, not looking at him. “See you, you didn’t account for that protein structure and I remember…” Jack doesn’t look at him, instead staring straight ahead, and now that he’s stopped, Parmak feels the agitated bounce of his leg. “You know I I wanted to be a doctor once. Couldn’t. Forbidden, not Allowed by the Federation but now I… I have heard men talk about the blessings of freedom… but I wish any wise man would teach me what use to make of it now that I have it…”

“I’m not much of a teacher, I’m afraid. As you can see, it would seem that I cannot even fix my own poor broken brain.”

“Why fix it?” Jack asks with a shrug and a bite - seemingly defiant - of his finger. “By God, if I ever cracked, I’d try to make the world crack with me.”

“Then why do you keep pulling your finger out of your mouth?” Parmak asks smartly, pushing his glasses up, still marvelling that he thinks he might actually be able to falsely induce the mental state which had-

“Maybe I won’t hm,” Jack says around that finger as he types a few more keys over Parmak’s fingers. “Maybe I’ll I’ll just leave it there until it rots off mmhm, An offering of body.”

“One doesn’t barter with the gods, with the State. One doesn’t appeal, one merely serves.” But then, if he truly believed that shouldn’t he let his penance stand? Shouldn’t he abandon this silly idea of bringing himself back to Garak? Of erasing Tain’s mark? Parmak sighs as he watches Jack’s mouth turn down, watch his teeth nibble, his head turn, his hazel eye still bright, snow white dusted auburn hair thrown back from his face.

“There’s another way to do this you know mmhm,” Jack says suddenly. “The mainframe is down, and when falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall; And when Rome falls- the world. But… but they were wrong… Julian and I made it out... Like Apocalypse - Patrick loved Xmen mmhm - but from a single atom can be regenerated…” He trails off and Parmak realizes in that moment what he perhaps should have suspected all along. The trinity is dead. The other Augments are dead. It’s only Jack and Julian after all at the end of the world, at the end of their own fire come through burned and scarred like all of them. “But you’re not a mutant, not hunted by the Sentinels, not one of us and… and  your brain is more compatible than a basic’s but it would still probably kill you. And it… wouldn’t be quiet hm, it’s a buzz, a constant hum not always mellow wedding bells but brazen Alarum!”

Parmak laughs softly as he stands up.

“Do you think I would be working on this formulation, this psychedelic induction if I was concerned for my life? You’ve clearly gone over everything, ‘Doctor Merriweather’. You know just as well as I do that the odds of fatal cerebral hemorrhage are sixty percent.”

“Fifty now,” Jack corrects looking at him with a turn of his head more the jerk of an aging automaton. “Fifty percent isn’t a logical risk for… for the lying Morlock who’s only dreaming of Bashir.” The slip is a curious one, and Parmak sees Jack shut his eyes after he says it and Parmak wonders-

“The link is breaking down, isn’t it?” he asks brilliantly, even as he feels that adrenaline wearing off with the fatigue of little bit of sleep coming back. “That connection. You said you had to sever it from the Mainframe. That’s not all is it?”

Jack is silent as he continues working, head down, crawling onto the top of the table to sit cross legged, closer to the screen.

“You should sleep. I’ll work, finish this. Forty percent, thirty percent, it can be improved. Lauren said I… I wasn’t a surgeon, wasn’t a doctor but I could have been. Could’ve been better than Bashir, could’ve won a dozen Carringtons could’ve should’ve de profundis domine dum spiro spero…” comes the whisper as Parmak shuffles back over with a sigh. It would seem that they’re both hopeless.

“You don’t think you should sleep too then? I promise you with all the years of work another night won’t make much difference.”

“I don’t sleep,” Jack answers flatly and another jerking motion of his hand to the back of the neck where Parmak sees the faint scar. He stops when he sees it.

Parmak remembers treating a woman after The Fire who’d blinded herself so that she would no longer see the destruction behind her eyes. And when that hadn’t worked she tried to have him cut it out of her head. She’d mutilated herself so badly with the scalpel that she’d died that night. The scar is precise, small, neat, and Jack’s words haunt him. A hand goes to that shoulder again and he wonders just what he’s doing. Even if Jack doesn’t understand the gesture he shouldn’t be making it. Parmak sees the tension go out of Jack’s shoulders, sees the comfort that it brings him, the way his head tips to the touch with a breath and it reminds him so painfully that he can’t do the same for Garak.

“I do,” he says, wondering just what in the name of the Sky Serpents he’s doing.

“I… I don’t do that either,” is snapped quickly, Jack’s hand going over his to move it away.

“I wasn’t asking you to,” he says with another yawn.

“Oh…” Understanding that Parmak only is asking for company, for warmth though he still looks suspicious as he demurs. “Oh then I… I’ll probably keep you awake. I talk- talk books, novels, kept Julian up some nights but Sarina always liked it mmhm.” He’s back to “Julian” again, Parmak notes curiously as he steps back.

“Books?” He sees Jack uncoil from the table and slip off of it, arms crossed tightly now, biting his finger again, looking far younger in stature than he had when he first came.

“I don’t forget things. Anything. Ever. And it’s… it’s too quiet at night,” he practically whispers. “It’s the Wrong kind of quiet the kind of quiet not your quiet.”  Poor boy, Parmak thinks. How much of that control forced in him was because of Julian’s influence?

“So then you’ll tell me a story?” Parmak asks amused, stumbling over his own foot as he becomes lost in thoughts, as he chides himself for thoughtlessly reaching out a hand to another stray. He catches himself on the wall, wincing at the strain on his back. He nearly starts when he feels Jack’s arms around him, so many years knowing that sudden physical contact is death, is pain but… fighting back that tension for Jack’s sake. He feels his heart racing when Jack picks him up and carries him up the stairs, speaking softly, in Kardasi directly, he notes when he catches an odd choice of phrase.

“In that pleasant district of merry England which is watered by the river Don, there extended in ancient times a large forest, covering the greater part of the beautiful hills and valleys which lie between Sheffield and the pleasant town of Doncaster…”

And then, he sleeps.

---

If Garak is damned then Kelas is coming with him. Kelas had once said (The first time that he knew him as Kelas and not Doctor Parmak) in a moment of anger, that the State gave birth to its lying snake of a son to drag those it deemed unworthy to the underground to be crushed by the darkness.

They came together hard and fast that first night, and that was when Garak realized that in spite of the rumors the doctor was not Tain’s toy after all.

It will pain him, it will bring him to the edge, may very well set him over it to see Garak tonight, but Garak needs him. Garak needs him and he knows if he knocks on Kelas’ door it will open. He knows if he asks, if he asks forgiveness soft, eyes down, tells him that there’s no one else who can comfort him that Kelas will swallow that bile, will shut his eyes tightly and open his arms to embrace him no matter how torturous. Kelas will forgive him even as it rips him apart and there are nights where that brings Garak a pain that he can’t stomach but… tonight is not one of them. Tonight he needs to know that no matter how cursed their union that Kelas will-

Garak stops himself at the doorway to the hall, frozen, never feeling more commiserate with Kelas than he does now. Bile, shaking, dizziness grip him and he takes a soft step back into his room to mask his presence from the Augment, a hand over his mouth because he… he, Elim Garak, Castellan, Spy, Interrogator, Murderer… might not be able to catch the sob burbling his his throat, growing, a nauseating bubble growing larger until he either screams or vomits where he stands.

“Maybe I’ll say a prayer to the slug slithering amongst the ancients that tomorrow I’ll wake up and be your Kelas again...”

It echoes, that ever present memory, swirling in his head, overlaid with the voice some eighty years past as they lay intertwined scratched, spent, breathing heavily with their chufas touching “shall I be your Kelas tomorrow when I wake up, Elim? Where tonight I’m Tain’s Parmak?” He’d stopped being Tain’s Parmak that night, to tease that Garak would only want him as long as he and his mouth were of some use… Garak doesn’t know that Kelas ever realized a day what he ever truly was to him. He doesn’t know that he ever realized a day what Kelas truly was to him beside a steady and familiar companion welcoming him back home from that human concept of Hell. Not until now that is.

Garak sees Jack carrying him up the stairs cradled to his chest like a breeze would break him… break them both.

“That’s you, Garak. You’d never save me…”

No, he wouldn’t, would he?

Garak has never saved anyone.

And yet when the door closes, Garak is flying down the stairs to Julian’s room.

Julian dreams of the space station again, only this time he dreams in color, dreams with names. The faces come into view. The cold comes back to him but it’s a chill that’s familiar. It’s a chill that’s home. In his dream like all dreams he passes through like a pitiful shade, the people walking through him, not seeing him, not hearing him as he calls out “Jadzia!” perhaps louder than any other, not knowing why the desperation to catch that brown haired woman (Trill? What’s that? Like music?) He doesn’t understand as it spins and spins around him, that lizard man, that Garak who’d abandoned him walking away always just out of his grasp no matter how far he runs, no matter how fast he tries to make his damn useless Augment muscles (Augment? I don’t understand…) move.

“Why is it that no matter how fast I go, how deep down I sink I can never measure up to what you want?”

He doesn’t understand where that thought comes from suddenly. It comes like a memory but it doesn’t make any sense because the memories he’s recovered are only of his wife, only of Sarina smiling at him before his… before his accident.

Except now there are other that he passes by chasing the lizard man around the dimly lit habitat ring. He passes the doors and sees a man with a mustache smiling at him and he hears Jack? He sees a door with an auburn haired woman grinning at him seductively hearing Lauren? He passes an older white haired man looking up from a massive three dimensional puzzle hearing Patrick? And then he sees Sarina but she’s wearing a uniform. A… Starfleet uniform? Section 31?

Julian feels a pain shooting through his head as he sees Garak moving farther away and he feels his throat vibrate, hears himself screaming “why am I never enough for you?!” Why isn’t he?... “How far into the darkness do I need to go for you Garak?! How much of me do I need to stain with blood to be worthy of you?!”

See Garak, I’ve given everything to the bloody State too!

I let them rip everything out of me and put it back for you!

And now you’re with him?!

That should’ve been me, Garak!

Julian runs past the last door seeing another woman with short dark hair and spots dotting her skin. She smiles at him and he hears Ezri before he stops with another whisper of “Jadzia”, the smile changing to a frown as the hall turns to gray and the portraits freeze.

Julian remembers.

He hadn’t whispered “Jadzia” though that was what he’d told her.

It was “Garak” that had passed his lips.

“Garak!” he wakes with a start, the apartment hot, too hot, the heater acting up again, though it’s a far cry from the halfway house where he started. It’s a far cry from that hospital bed and the smell of sickness. It’s better. It’s improvement. Recovery, isn’t that what Doctor Parmak had called it?

Doctor… Parmak?

Why is that name so much more familiar now?

He hasn’t seen Doctor Parmak. He hasn’t seen Garak as the flowers of spring have started to bloom and he’s begun to remember bits and pieces of what he might have once known, preganglionic fiber and postganglionic nerve echoing strangely in his head like a mantra, a chant of the Ancients (Ancients?) knowing that somehow They could never know… could never find out that he- But it slips away again as his legs tangle in the sheets and his knees draw up, forehead hitting them hard with a soft whimper. He doesn’t know how long he remains like that sure he’s going to be too tired for his shift, sure that his interview hangs in the balance because he’s finally remembered enough that he can… that he can get back to… to...

Julian feels a pain in his head, heart still hammering hard in his chest when he hears the doorbell. He wonders if he was screaming again? He think about it as he tries to remember where he left his robe. Zelda, his new neighbor a woman of few kind words, had complained about that the one day, but- There’s a knocking, a frantic pounding that follows and he wonders if the building isn’t on fire which would be dreadful because he’s still in his t shirt and shorts and Zelda might be a miserable old bird but he’d still feel obliged to see to her as well and that’d probably give her something else to be cross about but-

“Alright alright I’m coming!” he yells as he rushes to the door and throws it open.

Oh. It’s not the building on fire after all.

Its Garak, standing there breathing hard, half dressed in some sort of dark tunic, half off a shoulder, hair mussed, eyes wild and desperate as they look at one another from that brief distance of doorway separating them.

And suddenly, Julian’s the one on fire.

[boonies]

802 reboots and there's only one thing Eleanor wants more than redemption.  Eleanor/Chidi; PG-13; 2,200 words. 

"You're like goldfish I let loose in a great big ocean," Michael complains tiredly, Eleanor 13 sitting before him with a defiant scowl, "but you just keep—but you just keep swimming in a circle." "Fun fact, Michael," Janet 13.5 lectures over his shoulder, producing a deformed fish tank, "goldfish are strictly freshwater fish." Michael gives the fish tank a bleary-eyed look. "It's just," he starts again, resigned, scrubbing at his stubble, focusing on a distressed Chidi 13 instead, "I gave you a literal eternity to do literally anything you want, and what do you keep doing." "Each other," Janet cuts in helpfully. Michael clicks the button. * Sleepy, Eleanor 16 sighs into the table, cheek pressed to a coffee-stained essay, sprawled over a scattering of dogeared books, eyes focused on Chidi's broad back. "Steven Seagal." Chidi 16 pauses to process. "Oh," he corrects her, patient, offended, secretly flattered, tapping a stick of chalk to the blackboard, "Senegal." "Steven Senegal," she nods wisely. * "You've been my own personal GPS," Eleanor 75 confides with an earnest, desperate grin, fingers digging into his arms, "recalibrating me no matter how many wrong turns I chose to take—" "Ironic," Chidi 75 mutters under his breath, shoulders stiff, eyes averted, "considering my directional insanity—" "—which is how I know The Good Place isn't really a place," Eleanor argues, undeterred, turning her face to glare at Michael with a perfectly confident smirk, "it's a person." "No," Michael frowns, head tilted in consideration, "no, it's definitely a place—" "No, it's definitely Chidi," Eleanor huffs with unholy determination, "I finally figured it all o—" Sighing, Michael snaps his fingers.

* Eleanor 121 settles on the outskirts of a deserted kebab neighborhood. "You're our first resident or something," Michael tells her and books it. She spends two weeks alone. "Janet," she sighs, bored, lifeless, looking up from her pillow when Janet dutifully pops in. "Can you get me a turtle. I kinda really need a turtle right now." One fresh turtle takes a heavy hesitant step atop her skewer-cluttered nightstand. "Janet," Eleanor calls again. "Can you get me tiny glasses to put on the turtle." Janet gets her tiny glasses to put on the turtle. "Hey, Janet," Eleanor asks, lost, "why the fork am I doing this." Janet offers her a cheerful, "Unclear." * "Lemme try... Perfect Credit Score," Eleanor 204 tells the froyo dude, scanning the menu, "And Glasses here's gonna have... how's New Socks sound?" Visibly pleased, Chidi 204 shuffles closer. * "—she lives to vex me," Chidi 321 tells Tahani 321 with a long-suffering, impatient huff, stranded in her greenhouse during a daily shrimp air raid. "Technically, buddy," Eleanor 321 defends, almost fondly, crouched behind a large fern, "we're kinda dead." "This is what I mean!" Chidi points out, incredulous, adjusting his glasses. "I mean," Eleanor shrugs, tugging at one of his belt loops to scoot closer as a giant shrimp flies overhead, "I could maybe be responsible for our shrimp kamikaze friends or I might not be, is this really the hill you wanna die on, man." "As you pointed out, Eleanor," Chidi argues hotly, fixated on the insistent fingers wrapped around his belt loop, "I'm already dead." "This is precisely," Tahani snaps, the brim of her stupidly large hat shielding her stupidly beautiful face, "why I've banned you both from seeking shelter on these premises—I shan't allow myself to become a personal mediator again like I felt obligated to when my good friends, Ben and Jennifer and Jennifer—" A severed shrimp carapace crashes through the greenhouse, nicking her hat. "Out." * "Huh," Eleanor 401 nods to herself, realization dawning, "you and me—I guess we're technically illegal immigrants." Jason 401 cocks his head at the Xbox. "That's racist." Eleanor ignores him, crossing her arms and sinking deeper into the couch. "I smuggled myself into forking heaven." She pauses for a beat. "Wow, this has gotta be the worst thing I've ever—nope. Sold bags of Zayn's breath at two One Direction concerts." Unconcerned, Jason squints at her, controller held loosely in his palms, lollipop dangling from his mouth. "If I had to pick one direction I guess I'd pick south. No, left. No, up—" "We need to turn ourselves in." "Pass." "Listen," Eleanor starts, "Chidi would say it's our moral imperative to—" "Noooo," Jason whines loudly. "Chidi would say," Eleanor persists, then pauses. "Oh." * "Look," Eleanor 599 starts the negotiations, clasping Chidi's clammy hands between hers, "you should come with me to Mindy's. Because..." she takes a shaky breath, nape and collarbones itchy, "because you're the Bonnie to my Clyde, Chidi, the Karl to my Hans Gruber, the Kronk to my Yzma—" "I... " Chidi 599 manages, traumatized, "I don't even know where to start, Eleanor, you understand that all of these are bad guys, please tell me you understand, it's very important to me that you understand—" "Chidi, I only understand that you have to come with me," Eleanor tells him, soft, sincere, scared. "It's important somehow." Chidi watches her for a moment. "Okay." * "Everyone else is forking," Eleanor 666 announces casually, breezing into the guest room, mouth full of popcorn shrimp, "so we should, too, you know, probably." "Eleanor," Chidi 666 bristles, flustered, uncomfortable, visibly struggling to keep his composure and his bookmark in place, "if everyone else jumped off a building, should we?" "Bro," she points out, kinda smug, kinda shy, gesturing at the book in his lap, "we literally just finished a chapter on how conformity makes us human." "Oh, of course," he complains, nervously adjusting his glasses, "now you pay attention to my lessons. Wait. You're paying attention to my lessons, Eleanor, that's—sadly—the proudest I've been—" "Cool," she says, tossing her bucket of popcorn shrimp aside, "but are you turned on." Chidi stares. "Weirdly," he blinks, "yes." * "Perhaps," Michael says into his recorder, perched precariously atop his windowsill, only peripherally aware of Eleanor 704, "next time I could maybe tinker with the bluetooth settings—" "Wait," Chidi 704 says, gripping his chair, glasses slipping down his nose, "next time?" "Oh, right," Michael summarizes flippantly, "yeah. Okay. So we've been through some version of this like 704 times." Unenthusiastic, he sticks his hands up in surrender. "Surprise. I'm a bad guy and so are you. Let's see, what am I missing—ah, yes." He spares them an accusatory glance. "I had to reboot you jerks, like, every couple of months." "Wait—wait, what—704 reboots?" Chidi asks, horrified, vein in his forehead pulsing. "No, what—at an average of two months per cycle," he turns to Eleanor, eyes wide, left shoe tapping restlessly, "that's... 117 years." Eleanor waves him off with a dismissive scoff, "That can't be right but I don't know enough about math to dispute it." She pauses for a beat. "Why do I know that word." Michael arranges his face into a desperate sort of condescension, thumb poised over the clicker. "Character development." * "The bad place must be frozen over," Eleanor 782 tells Nightmare George Washington, "because I definitely think I have the hots for a nerd. Like. I'm not super into him or anything." The clown painting stares back. "Fine," Eleanor concedes, "I might be super into him." She turns. "Tahani, at the risk of failing Bechdel, what do you think." Tahani 782 looks up from a Better Homes and Gardens magazine, criminally long legs crossed at the ankle, hair swept to the side like a sexy mermaid. "I think dedicating an entire article to snacks is a neoteric atrocity. In this economy?" Eleanor narrows her eyes. "About feelings, Tahani. These terrible things I'm apparently having." Tahani rises with elegance, the hem of her dress sweeping down her perfect calves. "Eleanor, I must, as the Floridians say," she lectures airily, patting Eleanor's shoulder, "respectfully stay in my lane." "Fine," Eleanor complains, agitated, unnerved, defensive, "fine, I'll just figure out feelings and how to "have" them on my own—" "Eleanor," Tahani points out, placing one of Chidi's tabbed books in Eleanor's hands. "Not quite on your own." * "We don't belong here," Eleanor 800 murmurs lazily, cheek smushed against a couch cushion, ripped bag of chips cradled in her arms. Squatting by his Playstation, monk robes caught on a stack of games, Jason 800 nods sagely. "Ya, we musta used some legit cheat codes, dog." Expression blank, Eleanor watches him blow a peace kiss at the ceiling. "Dude, we have to leave." Jason gives her a scandalized pout. "Before we get Chidi in trouble," Eleanor clarifies, coaxing, "before we get Tahani in trouble." Petulantly, Jason sprawls on the floor. "I don't wanna leave. I like it here. I like how the pizza is always deep dish and how the Jaguars air on every channel and how my budhole—" "It's the right thing to do," Eleanor eulogizes. "You and me, we gotta do what's best for Chidi and Tahani." "Noo, homie," Jason sits up, slapping the rug, "what about what's best for us, huh." Eleanor nuzzles the bag of chips. "What is best for us, Jason." "I dunno," Jason admits, looking constipated, "but I do know Tahani makes me smarter and Chidi makes you gooder, so." Eleanor opens her mouth to protest, then bites down on a chip with an affectionate, lopsided smile. "He does make me gooder." * Eleanor 802 says, "Do you think it's weird." Chidi 802 says, "Always and everything, yes, but what specifically?" "That Michael deep-fried our brains 801 times and I still just..." she gives him a sideways glance, sitting by the kitchen counter, VCR queued up. "Found you." Chidi shifts atop the stool, brows knitted, fingers anxiously clawing at his knobby knees. "Perhaps, mathematically, it was mostly inevitable, since there were only four—" "I have to show you something," Eleanor interrupts, thumb paused over the play button. "Do you wanna see? It could, you know. Totally change everything, be a total plot twist, a jumping of the shark, maybe." Pained, Chidi offers her a tiny indecisive wheeze. "Well," he starts eventually, wary but focused, "according to Thomas Gray, ignorance is bliss. But also, uh, there's Francis Bacon, who argued that knowledge is power—" "I'm not gonna lie, Chidi," Eleanor shrugs one shoulder, palm upturned. "Imma side with food, not colors." Chidi pauses, a brief hint of surprised admiration softening his features. Eleanor's heart catches in her chest. "So can I show you." "Yeah." * "Hey, quick question," Chidi says on the train, fragments of the neighborhood dismantling behind them, "and I feel like I need to qualify it with a—" "Chidi." "Right, sorry," he says, pressed to her side, studiously examining his knuckles. "I've been thinking a lot lately—" "Shocker." "—and I think—feel—think I should mention a principle we didn't have time to cover in class," he rambles, adorably sweaty, "one that closely relates to skepticism, in which we have to assume that because we can only experience our own mind, every bit of knowledge outside of it is unsure and unreal—" "Solipsism," Eleanor nods politely. Chidi pauses, almost awed, lips parted, eyebrows raised. "What," Eleanor offers defensively. "I read ahead." "Oooh," Michael calls from the back, "that's how she got you in Reboot 413." Thoughtful, Chidi turns to meet her eyes. "Wait, so you know about solipsism but not where Senegal is?" "Chidi," Eleanor whines, "I'm from Arizona. We get our maps from... 1886. Countries like Africa—" "Again, Africa is not a c—" "Haven't we left The Bad Place?" Tahani demands sternly, then demurs, "I mean. Do carry on..." Awkwardly, Chidi squares his shoulders. "It's just that, hypothetically, what if none of this is real." "The probability of that is absolutely high," Janet agrees. "Oh, my stomach," Chidi groans, then refocuses. "If none of this is real, then none of the reboots, including the one where..." he trails off guiltily, "Cannonball Run II happened, happened." "Oh no, Burt Reynolds doesn't win the race?" Jason asks, noticeably upset. Eleanor ignores him, gently slipping her hand in Chidi's. "Look. What matters to me is that none of the reboots erased what I care about." She hesitates, mumbling, "You." "Oh, dang," Jason hoots, "Chidi's a virus." Five pairs of eyes laser in on him. "Yea, Chidi's like this one virus Pillboi got that one time we tried to download Party in the USA on LimeWire but it was actually a," he crooks his fingers at an angle, aghast, "cartoon porn, yo." He nods in remembrance, somber. "He never could get rid of it after that." "Are you saying, Jason, in your... graciously simple manner," Tahani translates delicately, "you believe we are inside a computer simulation." Jason purses his lips, thinking. "Okay... yeah?" "Oh," Chidi says, seeking guidance from the train's ceiling, "that wasn't helpful at all, Eleanor." Eleanor knocks his knee with hers, smiling brightly, hand still in Chidi's. "It was for me." Incredulous, Chidi observes her for a moment. "How." Eleanor's smile grows. "I'm cool with a computer simulation or eternal damnation or even Alabama," she tells him with a kind of unshakeable trust. "As long as I'm stuck with you."

[mlleedom]

White Frights - The Villains and the Fall Guys

White Frights - The Villains and the Fall Guys

February 2002

I don't know what it is, but every time I see a white guy walking towards me, I tense up. My heart starts racing, and I immediately begin to look for an escape route and a means to defend myself. I kick myself for even being in this part of town after dark. Didn't I notice the suspicious gangs of white people lurking on every street corner, drinking Starbucks and wearing their gang colors of Gap turquoise or J Crew mauve? What an idiot! Now the white person is coming closer, closer - and then - whew! He walks by without harming me, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

White people scare the crap out of me. This may be hard for you to understand - considering that I am white - but then again, my colour gives me a certain insight. For instance, I find myself pretty scary a lot of the time, so I know what I'm talking about. You can take my word for it: if you find yourself suddenly surrounded by white people, you better watch out. Anything can happen. As white people, we've been lulled into thinking it's safe to be around other white people. We've been taught since birth that it's the people of that other colour we need to fear. They're the ones who'll slit your throat!

Yet as I look back on my life, a strange but unmistakable pattern seems to emerge. Every person who has ever harmed me in my lifetime - the boss who fired me, the teacher who flunked me, the principal who punished me, the kid who hit me in the eye with a rock, the executive who didn't renew TV Nation, the guy who was stalking me for three years, the accountant who double-paid my taxes, the drunk who smashed into me, the burglar who stole my stereo, the contractor who overcharged me, the girlfriend who left me, the next girlfriend who left even sooner, the person in the office who stole cheques from my chequebook and wrote them out to himself for a total of $16,000 - every one of these individuals has been a white person. Coincidence? I think not.

I have never been attacked by a black person, never been evicted by a black person, never had my security deposit ripped off by a black landlord, never had a black landlord, never had a meeting at a Hollywood studio with a black executive in charge, never had a black person deny my child the college of her choice, never been puked on by a black teenager at a Mötley Crüe concert, never been pulled over by a black cop, never been sold a lemon by a black car salesman, never seen a black car salesman, never had a black person deny me a bank loan, and I've never heard a black person say, "We're going to eliminate 10,000 jobs here - have a nice day!"

I don't think that I'm the only white guy who can make these claims. Every mean word, every cruel act, every bit of pain and suffering in my life has had a Caucasian face attached to it.

So, um, why is it exactly that I should be afraid of black people?

I look around at the world I live in - and, I hate to tell tales out of school, but it's not the African-Americans who have made this planet such a pitiful, scary place. Recently, a headline on the front of the Science section of the New York Times asked Who Built The H-Bomb? The article went on to discuss a dispute between the men who claim credit for making the first bomb. Frankly, I could have cared less - because I already know the only pertinent answer: "It was a white guy!" No black guy ever built or used a bomb designed to wipe out hordes of innocent people, whether in Oklahoma City, Columbine or Hiroshima. No, friends, it's always the white guy. Let's go to the tote board:

· Who gave us the black plague? A white guy.

· Who invented PBC, PVC, PBB, and a host of chemicals that are killing us? White guys.

· Who has started every war America has been in? White men.

· Who invented the punchcard ballot? A white man.

· Whose idea was it to pollute the world with the internal combustion engine? Whitey, that's who.

· The Holocaust? That guy really gave white people a bad name.

· The genocide of Native Americans? White man.

· Slavery? Whitey!

· US companies laid off more than 700,000 people in 2001. Who ordered the lay-offs? White CEOs.

You name the problem, the disease, the human suffering, or the abject misery visited upon millions, and I'll bet you 10 bucks I can put a white face on it faster than you can name the members of 'NSync.

And yet, when I turn on the news each night, what do I see again and again? Black men alleged to be killing, raping, mugging, stabbing, gang banging, looting, rioting, selling drugs, pimping, ho-ing, having too many babies, fatherless, motherless, Godless, penniless. "The suspect is described as a black male... the suspect is described as a black male... THE SUSPECT IS DESCRIBED AS A BLACK MALE..." No matter what city I'm in, the news is always the same, the suspect always the same unidentified black male. I'm in Atlanta tonight, and I swear the police sketch of the black male suspect on TV looks just like the black male suspect I saw on the news last night in Denver and the night before in LA. In every sketch he's frowning, he's menacing - and he's wearing the same knit cap! Is it possible that it's the same black guy committing every crime in America?

I believe we've become so used to this image of the black man as predator that we are forever ruined by this brainwashing. In my first film, Roger & Me, a white woman on social security clubs a rabbit to death so that she can sell him as "meat" instead of as a pet. I wish I had a nickel for every time in the past 10 years that someone has come up to me and told me how "horrified" they were when they saw that "poor little cute bunny" bonked on the head. The scene, they say, made them physically sick. The Motion Picture Association of America gave Roger & Me an R [18] rating in response to that rabbit killing. Teachers write to me and say they have to edit that part out of the film, if they want to show it to their students.

But less than two minutes after the bunny lady does her deed, I included footage of a scene in which police in Flint, Michigan, shot a black man who was wearing a Superman cape and holding a plastic toy gun. Not once - not ever - has anyone said to me, "I can't believe you showed a black man being shot in your movie! How horrible! How disgusting! I couldn't sleep for weeks." After all, he was just a black man, not a cute, cuddly bunny. The ratings board saw absolutely nothing wrong with that scene. Why? Because it's normal, natural. We've become so accustomed to seeing black men killed - in the movies and on the evening news - that we now accept it as standard operating procedure. No big deal! That's what blacks do - kill and die. Ho-hum. Pass the butter.

It's odd that, despite the fact that most crimes are committed by whites, black faces are usually attached to what we think of as "crime". Ask any white person who they fear might break into their home or harm them on the street and, if they're honest, they'll admit that the person they have in mind doesn't look much like them. The imaginary criminal in their heads looks like Mookie or Hakim or Kareem, not little freckle-faced Jimmy.

No matter how many times their fellow whites make it clear that the white man is the one to fear, it simply fails to register. Every time you turn on the TV to news of another school shooting, it's always a white kid who's conducting the massacre. Every time they catch a serial killer, it's a crazy white guy. Every time a terrorist blows up a federal building, or a madman gets 400 people to drink Kool-Aid, or a Beach Boys songwriter casts a spell causing half a dozen nymphets to murder "all the piggies" in the Hollywood Hills, you know it's a member of the white race up to his old tricks.

So why don't we run like hell when we see whitey coming toward us? Why don't we ever greet the Caucasian job applicant with, "Gee, uh, I'm sorry, there aren't any positions available right now"? Why aren't we worried sick about our daughters marrying white guys? And why isn't Congress trying to ban the scary and offensive lyrics of Johnny Cash ("I shot a man in Reno/just to watch him die"), the Dixie Chicks ("Earl had to die"), or Bruce Springsteen ("I killed everything in my path/I can't say that I'm sorry for the things that we done").

Why the focus on rap lyrics? Why doesn't the media print lyrics such as the following, and tell the truth? "I sold bottles of sorrow, then chose poems and novels" (Wu-Tang Clan); "People use yo' brain to gain" (Ice Cube); "A poor single mother on welfare... tell me how ya did it" (Tupac Shakur); "I'm trying to change my life, see I don't wanna die a sinner" (Master P).

African-Americans have been on the lowest rung of the economic ladder since the day they were dragged here in chains. Every other immigrant group has been able to advance from the bottom to the higher levels of our society. Even Native Americans, who are among the poorest of the poor, have fewer children living in poverty than African-Americans.

You probably thought things had got better for blacks in this country. After all, considering the advances we've made eliminating racism in our society, one would think our black citizens might have seen their standard of living rise. A survey published in the Washington Post in July 2001 showed that 40%-60% of white people thought the average black person had it as good or better than the average white person.

Think again. According to a study conducted by the economists Richard Vedder, Lowell Gallaway and David C Clingaman, the average income for a black American is 61% less per year than the average white income. That is the same percentage difference as it was in 1880. Not a damned thing has changed in more than 120 years.

Want more proof? Consider the following:

· Black heart attack patients are far less likely than whites to undergo cardiac catheterisation, regardless of the race of their doctors.

· Whites are five times more likely than blacks to receive emergency clot-busting treatment after suffering a stroke.

· Black women are four times more likely than white women to die while giving birth.

· Black levels of unemployment have been roughly twice those of whites since 1954.

So how have we white people been able to get away with this? Caucasian ingenuity! You see, we used to be real dumb. Like idiots, we wore our racism on our sleeve. We did really obvious things, like putting up signs on rest-room doors that said WHITES ONLY. We made black people sit at the back of the bus. We prevented them from attending our schools or living in our neighbourhoods. They got the crappiest jobs (those advertised for NEGROES ONLY), and we made it clear that, if you weren't white, you were going to be paid a lower wage.

Well, this overt, over-the-top segregation got us into a heap of trouble. A bunch of uppity lawyers went to court. They pointed out that the 14th Amendment doesn't allow for anyone to be treated differently because of their race. Eventually, after a long procession of court losses, demonstrations and riots, we got the message: if you're going to be a successful racist, better find a way to do it with a smile on your face.

We even got magnanimous enough to say, "Sure, you can live here in our neighborhood; your kids can go to our kids' school. Why the hell not? We were just leaving, anyway." We smiled, gave black America a pat on the back - and then ran like the devil to the suburbs.

At work, we whites still get the plum jobs, double the pay, and a seat in the front of the bus to happiness and success. We've rigged the system from birth, guaranteeing that black people will go to the worst schools, thus preventing them from admission to the best colleges, and paving their way to a fulfilling life making our caffe lattes, servicing our BMWs, and picking up our trash. Oh, sure, a few slip by - but they pay an extra tariff for the privilege: the black doctor driving his BMW gets pulled over continually by the cops; the black Broadway actress can't get a cab after the standing ovation; the black broker is the first to be laid off because of "seniority".

We whites really deserve some kind of genius award for this. We talk the talk of inclusion, we celebrate the birthday of Dr King, we frown upon racist jokes. We never fail to drop a mention of "my friend - he's black..." We make sure we put our lone black employee up at the front reception desk so we can say, "See - we don't discriminate. We hire black people."

Yes, we are a very crafty, cagey race - and damn if we haven't got away with it!

I wonder how long we will have to live with the legacy of slavery. That's right. I brought it up. SLAVERY. You can almost hear the groans of white America whenever you bring up the fact that we still suffer from the impact of the slave system. Well, I'm sorry, but the roots of most of our social ills can be traced straight back to this sick chapter of our history. African-Americans never got a chance to have the same fair start that the rest of us got. Their families were willfully destroyed, their language and culture and religion stripped from them. Their poverty was institutionalized so that our cotton could get picked, our wars could be fought, our convenience stores could remain open all night. The America we've come to know would never have come to pass if not for the millions of slaves who built it and created its booming economy - and for the millions of their descendants who do the same dirty work for whites today.

It's not as if we're talking ancient Rome here. My grandfather was born just three years after the Civil War. That's right, my grandfather. My great-uncle was born before the Civil War. And I'm only in my 40s. Sure, people in my family seem to marry late, but the truth remains: I'm just two generations from slave times. That, my friends, is not a "long time ago". In the vast breadth of human history, it was only yesterday. Until we realize that, and accept that we do have a responsibility to correct an immoral act that still has repercussions today, we will never remove the single greatest stain on the soul of our country

© Michael Moore, 2002.

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2002/mar/30/features.weekend

I read this excerpt from Moore’s book at an open mic night at a coffee shop shortly after the book release in 2002. Moore has been labeled contentious and divisive. He was at the cutting edge in helping those impacted by the water crisis in Flint, MI. I can relate to this piece as I have never been harmed by a black person and what I have seen in the media throughout my 4+ decades has been a complete disconnect. 

[deanssweetheart23]

Time to spread some love!

So. Since today is Fanfiction Writer Appreciation Day and I’ve been so busy lateky I haven’t had the time to give feedback to all the wonderful writers that inspire me every single day (that’s about to change it two weeks time btw), I decided to make a list of my favorite fics of all time to show to all those wonderful writers that their words matter more than they know. 

Let’s start, shall we?

The Arrangement, Hold On I’m Coming, Sleep Without You, Marry Me, This Can’t Be The End, Something I’m Good At by @ravengirl94

Okay. So I basically had to stop myself from inserting twin’s entire masterlist here, but it’s only because she’s so damn good with words. When she posted the first chapter of The Arrangement, I knew it would become my favorite thing in the world. I can’t really convey how perfect her work is but, God, her stories are always so beautifully and well-written, Dean’s characterization is always on point and the plot is sooo good. She can make me cry and laugh and die from Dean’s cuteness all at once and I can’t even stay mad at her because she’s that talented. She’s just awesome, alright?

Until It’s Gone, 10 Reasons, Used To This, Afraid Of Home, Falling Stars by @trexrambling

Really, anything by her is amazing. I still remember how I came across Jess’s writings; she was included in the same fic-rec post I was included for one of my stories and I decided to go check her out because you can never follow enough SPN blogs, right? Well. I went through her entire masterlist and ended up in tears. She has a way with words that keeps surprising me. And 10 Reasons is one of the fics I carry deep within my heart... 

Always, All That Matters, End Credits, My Favorite One, Crazy, Stupid Love by @winchestersnco

So, yeah. Words are not enough to describe Erin. I fell in love with her writing when I read Always (if you love Dean Winchester and you haven’t read that fic, you are obviously doing something wrong, by the way, that story is a love letter to him), and then started reading more and more, and she’s just amazing, you know?

Balconies, Ferrum Gloria, Hold The Line, Eye of The Hurricane, Bright and Warm, Tape Hiss by @lipstickandwhiskey

I still fangirl over Lips. I fangirl over her every single time. Every single time, she surprises me with how much she can make me feel with the words she uses. Her stories are always so beautifully-written, always pull at my heartstrings and what I love about them is that she manages to create a reader that treats Dean with so much love and affection because, dammit, he deserves it. Also. I will never get over Hold The Line. Never.

Found, Home, Jingle Bells, Silences, Dee, Peanut Butter And Banana Sandwiches, One More Day, Stroke of Luck by @percywinchester27

Ana will make you feel all the feels, I promise you. She’s made me smile like a complete idiot. She’s made me scream into the void and wait for the next part of her ongoing daddy!Dean series. She’s made me sob and fall in love with Dean Winchester all over again because with Peanut Butter and Banana Sandwiches (oh, yeah, she has the best Weechester fics out there). So yeah. All the feels.

Pinky Promise, To The One Who Loves Her Next, Colors, Apples, Snowflakes, Always Have, Always Will by @jpadjackles

B is the most wonderful ray of sunshine in the world, but don’t let her fool you because her words will make you ache. She’s made me cry repeatedly or made me swell with happiness and her fic Apples has become my personal headcanon. Someone should call the SPN writers and tell them to add that detail somewhere in the script because, damn, it’s too heartbreaking and beautiful to go to waste.

Silk and Rough Velvet, Forward, Drop in the Ocean, Back from the deep by @blacktithe7

Erin is just... too talented for words to describe. She’s inspiring and hard-working and every and each one of her fics has its own voice. And. I rarely read Jensen fics but her work is so pure and wonderful and beautiful to not read. I admire her so much.

A Way To Go, Freaky Friday, The Letter, Simple Man, Pig in A Poke, At The End of All Things, Hard To Say I’m Sorry by @hannahindie

Hanna is such a beautiful soul that uses words and magic to creat fics. She’s incredibly hard-working and puts her soul into her writing and that ends, well.. That ends with me in tears because she knows just how to break my heart. But I keep coming back because she’s too good to not read. 

Heathen, Killzone, Choices by @thing-you-do-with-that-thing

Kari’s been so incredibly good to me and I’ve been dying to find some time to show her the love she deserves. Hopefully, that’ll happen too, but all I can say for now is that I’m sitting at the endge of my seat waiting for Choices, hope from the bottom of my heart she won’t kill anyone in Killzone and that Heathen is practically a glimpse into Dean’s complex mind. 

Missed, The Incovenient Truth, Void, Cupcake by @kathaswings

I fell in love with Lina’s writing when she posted The Incovenient Truth and have been held captive ever since (no, don’t send help, I love it here). Her stories are so full of emotions and she works so hard on her writing and as a reader, I can always see that. PS. If you decide to read Missed grab some tissues, you’ll need them.

Easy on the Tickles, First Degree Burns, His Favorite Girl

I definitely need to read more of Bailey’s stuff because her words make me so happy. First Degree Burns has me hooked and I keep going back to read Easy on the Tickles because it makes me smile on a bad day. Soft Dean you see...

The Wish Spell, The Falcon and The Wolf, Let’s Swayze This Mother, The Day After Tomorrow by @emilywritesaboutdean

Emily comes up with the most interesting stories. The Wish Spell is basically every girl’s dream and The Falcon and The Wolf is one of the best things she’s ever done. Oh. And the sass. Her sass is real, I’m telling you.

Fix You, What A Wonderful World, To The End of Time, Well That Explains That, Me Too, I Got You by @impala-dreamer

Beka is the most multi-talented person I know. She can do absolutely everything but mostly she enjoys ripping my poor Dean to shreds and breaking me by making him suffer. It’s all good though because, well... She does it beautifully... (On a side note:I’m still not over To the End of Time)

As It Seems, Down With Me, Notes, You’re Not There, Jealous!Dean Imagine, A+Secrets by @imagining-supernatural

Hmmm. How can I describe Aubrey? Insanely talented. Insanely. Her sass makes me break into laughter every time, her gentleness and emotions pull at my heartstrings and she has some crazy cliffchangers (*cough* As It Seems *cough*). Also. Every time I read You’re Not There I cry. 

Summer Fling, Where It All Began, The Way Dean Winchester Cuddles, Little Moment, Morning Kisses by @supernatural-jackles

Jen is so wonderful and she pours that wonderfulness into her fics. Summer Fling is so special because it deals with some very heavy stuff in the most appropriate way possible (and includes the sweetest possible version of D.W.) and Where It All Began is one of the first stories I read before I joined tumblr and it gave me feels.

Fragments, Series Rewrite, Daddy’s Little Lovebug, Lazy Sunday, Drugs Don’t Work by @torn-and-frayed

Steph is a magnificent story-teller. I am constantly in awe of her writing and the way she describes Dean or rather the deep understanding of his character. Her series rewrite is a gift to the SPN world (I used to read each chapter after I watched an episode) and Fragments is one of my favorite stories of all times. 

Save or Break, Forever Young, I’ll Remind You @thevioletthourr

She’ll make you cry. A lot. She’ll make you wonder why she’s so brilliant in angst. She’ll make your heart swell with the end of Save or Break. She’ll make you love her. That’s all...

Intertwined, Soldiers, Wonderful Tonight by @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba

Feels. Her writing will give you feels is all I can say to warn you. Um. Grab a box of tissues if you plan on reading Soldiers. *sobs*

The Piano Man, Unrequited, Dean’s Dream Girl, The Unknowns, Awesomeness All Around by @spnsimpleman 

Mel has inspire my writing so much. She’s so lyrical and poetic, writes a wonderful imagery and her stories are always so emotional and original. I fell in love with her work ever since I read Awesomeness All Around but really everything she writes is gold.

Spilled Whiskey, Bronco, Wood Smoke, The Beginning, Shut Up And Dance, Crash by @supernaturalfreewill

I am so in love with this writer. She inspires me to be a better user of words every single day. Her stories are crafted with magic and talent and love and I get lost into her words and travel into time with her fics. Basically everything she’s ever written is gold. 

Somebody Else, The Open Road, An Ode To Baby, Blue by @idreamofhazel

Hazel has the most lyrical expression in the world. Her writing is emotional and genuine and real and it makes my heart swell every single time. 

Happy Birthday, Dean, Reverie, Will You by @atari-writes 

Amber is the best, alright? She’s just the best. Her writing is so beautiful. I still remember how in awe I was when I read Reverie. She nailed it. She nails every and each one of her fics and uggh, I just love her. 

Riptide, Lucky Penny, Castle On The Hill by @kaz2y5-imagines

Reading fics written by Kazzy is like reading a book. She made me cry with all of the fics mentioned above and I’m not even mad because the end was so absolutely worth it. Again, I’m simply in awe of the talent of this wonderful woman and have been inspired by her multiple times to become a better writer. I carry Riptide and Lucky Penny in my heart and I’m not even kidding. 

Also @sebastianshoe is one of the most wonderful and hard-working writers in here. She works on requests mostly and has so many beautiful fics not only for SPN but also for Sherlock and many other fandoms and I hope to turn her into a Dean girl one day.

*clears throat* That’s all for now, folks. I really, really hope that I haven’t forgotten anyone, and apologize for the long list but what can I say?

[1989dreamer]

Chapter 9 of Looking for a Place to Call Home

Warning: Reference to past rape/attempted rape.

                                                                                                                        ~ * ~

Derek sits on the couch, watching as his sisters try to figure out the armholes on the light blue scrubs Scott-the-vet gave them. It worries him that they may have spent more time as wolves than humans (but at the same time he feels a little more grateful that their bodies wouldn’t have been readily available for men like the one he killed to touch them. Especially, since Laura is an intimidating size and despite the wolfsbane collars, both his sisters still had their claws and teeth.

Outside the office, Derek overhears Deaton confess to calling in the hunters. He strains to listen over the rising pounding of his own heart, angered that this man had Derek’s family put to death because he did not know nor care to find out which wolf had killed his sister.

Derek is glad when Stiles arrests the bastard. By then, Laura and Cora are fully dressed.

“We thought you were dead,” Laura growls, voice unsteady, unused to being human.

“I’m sorry,” Derek says. The day she had taken him, he had gone to the city park to look for their Uncle Peter, who was feuding with their mother. Peter hadn’t been there—Derek can only assume he returned home and was killed in the fire. “I shouldn’t have let myself be taken.”

When he couldn’t find Peter, he had wandered around, trying to catch his scent. Instead, he’d walked into a maze of emitters—sound beacons used to funnel wolves into traps—that she had left behind. And like a baby, Derek had fallen into it, quickly becoming disorientated and overwhelmed before she’d arrived to shoot him with a strain of wolfsbane he did not recognize. When he woke up again, they were already in the basement of the farmhouse in New York.

“Kate is a hunter,” Cora says quietly. She sits next to Derek and grabs his hand. “Do you know why she did the things she did? Why she took you? Why she didn’t kill Laura or me?”

When Derek doesn’t answer, she continues, “You were bait. The hunters used your abduction to drive the family closer so that they could kill all of us at the same time.”

Derek twists his hand in Cora’s so that he can hold her hand now. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “It’s all my fault. I—” he can’t say anything else or he’ll start crying. It can’t be real that his family, aside from his sisters, is dead, that they’ve been dead this whole time. He’d thought the pain and numbness of his family’s loss had simply been distance—muted because he was drugged and beaten and tortured, not because they were gone.

But why did the hunters refuse to kill the three of them? He knows his sisters were likely stolen to be bred. But, what purpose could he have served the hunters?

The man he killed. The man who wanted to fuck him even though she hadn’t had him fixed yet. He wouldn’t have borne children, but he could still provide some carnal pleasure. Derek is doubly glad then that he has torn the man’s throat out.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Laura says. “None of us did. It’s all on that bitch and that asshole that called her in.”

“Why does he hate all werewolves?” Cora asks. “Why does he want us dead?”

“He’s seeking revenge for his sister,” Derek explains. He thinks that the wolfsbane in their bindings must have limited their hearing in some manner since Deaton had spoken no less than twice about his motives for contacting the hunters. “She was killed by a werewolf and her alpha couldn’t turn her.”

“And he condemned our whole family to death for that?” Cora asks.

Laura clenches her fists. “If I didn’t think I’d be stopped, I would rip his throat out right  now.”

“The humans arrested him,” Derek points out. “They won’t let him get away with this.”

“Being arrested and actually stranding trial are two different things. How can they prove he had anything to do with the murders? There were no bodies left to recover when all was said and done.”

“He admitted to calling the hunters. Isn’t that enough?”

Laura shakes her head. “They may be able to arrest him, but without enough physical evidence, he’ll likely walk free.” She slams a fist into the wall, and Derek ducks over Cora as plaster rains down on them. “He gets to walk away while we’re left to pick up the pieces of our fractured lives. And there is nothing we can do about it.” Laura hits the wall harder. Derek is surprised that despite the noise, none of the adults have come to check on them yet.

“Why can’t we sue him?” Cora asks almost timidly. “Even if he can’t go to jail because of what he did, why can’t we still hold him responsible?”

“If they can’t prove he orchestrated our family’s murder and the murder of the packs around our territory, then no lawyer would even attempt to sue him for those reasons.”

“You can definitely try,” Stiles says, startling them. “I’ll help you.”

                                                                                                                        ~ * ~

The Hale children stare at him with blank expressions. It’s creepy. Stiles waits for one of them to move, to tell him either thanks or no thanks.

Derek is the first to look away, and Stiles is surprised to note that he looks relieved.

“Do you have any family that wasn’t…?” Non sequitur, Stiles thinks.

The alpha, Laura, shows her red eyes to him. “They all were killed,” she says shortly. “Besides, I’m over eighteen.”

“Yeah?” She does look it. “By how much?”

Laura blinks and the red fades away.

Quietly, she hisses at Derek and they confer quickly, almost too low for Stiles to hear at all.

“I’m twenty-five,” she declares. Immediately, Derek and the yellow-eyed beta (…Cora?) hit their faces with their open palms.

“You’re almost three years older than me,” Derek grumbles from behind his hand. “That makes you eighteen right now.”

Laura shoots him a look of fury. Stiles watches the exchange silently. Derek huffs and crosses his arms but also bows his head and bares his throat.

“Why do you want to give a false age?” Stiles asks after Laura presses a hand to Derek’s neck. “Does it have something to do with the hunters?”

Laura shrugs. “People listen better the older you are. Would you pay more attention to what a teen says or an adult?”

“I’m a deputy,” Stiles replies, tapping where he normally clips his badge, forgetting that he doesn’t actually have it on him right now. “I’m supposed to listen to everyone equally.”

“But do you?” Laura presses.

Unbidden, guiltily, Stiles recalls how he interacted with Derek earlier. Laura cocks her head, inhaling pointedly.

Stiles ignores her, turning to Derek. He holds out his hand and Derek just stares at it. “I am sorry,” Stiles says as sincerely as he can. Derek’s nostrils flare as he hesitates a moment longer before taking Stiles’ hand. He squeezes briefly and lets go. It’s as much forgiveness as Stiles can expect and more than he thought he would get.

Laura studies them with an odd expression, two parts suspicion, one part distrust, and one part unreadable. “No,” is all she says. Derek sets his jaw and nods resolutely.

Stiles knows he missed a very important piece of the conversation but he doesn’t know what it was. He vows to ask them about it later. Right now, he needs to take them to the Sheriff’s Station so that they can work on closing out this case.

He eyes Derek’s narrow frame, taking in the thin arms and bony wrists hanging out of the sleeves of his borrowed t-shirt. Kate Argent is going to Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital to get her leg patched from Parrish’s very definite nonlethal wounding.

Unfortunately, if Derek stays human, he should probably go to the hospital too. In fact, Stiles is surprised that Parrish hasn’t suggested it yet.

“Hey, buddy,” Stiles says, and Derek looks up. “Do you feel up to going to the hospital now?” Since they, in the form of at least Deaton and Kate Argent, have been apprehended.

Derek shakes his head.

“She will be there,” he whispers, “and I don’t want to see her.”

“I don’t blame you, bud.” Honestly, Stiles can only guess at what Kate has done to the boy in the three years she had him, but he knows it wasn’t anything good. After all, Derek ran away from her and contracted worms, likely from eating infected wildlife. “But you might have to go just to make the deputies happy.”

Derek wrinkles his nose. “I don’t want to go,” he says, almost plaintively. “They won’t let me eat cheeseburgers.”

“No, I imagine not.” Stiles knows they’ll stick the poor boy on an IV at the least. Considering how underweight he is, he wouldn’t be a bit surprised if the doctors try to insert a feeding tube. “Unless you can gain about fifty pounds in the next fifteen minutes, I don’t think you have a choice.”

“I could eat a lot of cheeseburgers,” Derek says, haughty.

Stiles laughs at him. “Okay, one, I don’t have enough money to make that happen, and two, your stomach can’t handle that much food.”

Derek crosses his arms and blows a puff of air. Cora drapes herself over his shoulder and noses at the hinge of his jaw.

“Don’t be scared,” she says, and Stiles wonders how old she is. Derek is fifteen (almost sixteen) and Laura is eighteen. Cora looks at least a couple of years younger than Derek.

Derek sighs and lets his sister push him over until there is room for Laura on the couch.

“So we sue the bald guy,” Cora says.

“Deaton,” Derek adds.

“What next? Where do we go? What do we do?”

“We stay together,” Laura answers. “We’re all that’s left. We can’t let anyone tear us apart.”

“It’s a lovely sentiment,” Stiles interjects, “but how are you going to prove that you can provide the care your siblings need?”

Laura growls low in her throat, and the cats and dogs awaiting procedures that require an overnight stay start making a racket. Derek pinches Laura and she stops growling. It takes a few minutes for the cacophony to die down.

“I’m the alpha,” Laura says into the blessed silence. “By definition I need to provide for my pack.”

“Swell. Now, do you have a house or an apartment? Somewhere to sleep and eat? How about a job? What resources do you have?”

Laura’s eyes go red again, but she stays silent this time.

Stiles sighs. “I will help you. You can stay in my apartment with me while you establish yourself. I only have one spare bedroom though, so someone will have to sleep on the couch until we figure something out.”

“Your couch is ugly,” Derek says. “Why do you want to help us?” His eyes turn blue, as if to remind Stiles of the fact that this child has killed a person.

Stiles reaches out a hand to brush over Derek’s hair. “It’s that same part of me that saw you as a wolf and wanted to help you then too.”

The door opens, interrupting them, and Lydia pokes her head into the office. “It’s time to take Derek to the hospital. Besides, I’ sure the Sheriff’s Department will have some questions for the Hales, but they all should be examined. Who knows what Kate did to them.”

“What I’d like to know is why is Derek emaciated but the girls aren’t.”

“Breeding,” Laura answers. “Since males can’t get pregnant, there’s no reason to waste resources on them.”

“She liked me,” Derek says. “It’s the only reason I’m still alive. The bare minimum of Calories allotted enabled me to waste away while still surviving enough to respond to her torture.”

“Her torture?” Stiles repeats. “Kate’s torture?” Derek flinches at her name. And, oh, Stiles gets it. She holds power over him in her name. By denoting her to a simple pronoun, Derek is not allowing the power of her name to affect him near as much as it otherwise would. These children will need psychiatric help.

“Did Allison offer to talk to you at all?” Stiles asks. “She’s a therapist or rather, a psychiatrist.”

“She said she specializes in juvenile trauma cases,” Derek says. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course. For now though, let’s get you to the hospital so that we can get you cleared.”

Derek stands up, relying heavily on his alpha. It’s obvious that he’s weaker than he should be, and Stiles thinks that might be the effects of the starvation kicking in again. He must be running out of energy. As far as he knows, Derek has eaten two burgers, two orders of curly fries, and some kibble. No wonder he’s stumbling.

“Okay, enough of that.” Stiles stops Laura and hefts Derek into his harms, the boy’s legs over one arm and his head and shoulders cradled in the other.

As a group, they move through the clinic, heading for the front door, which Cora opens without prompting. Stiles sets Derek in the backseat, pulling the blanket around the boy. His sisters climb in with him, and Stiles swears he sees their veins stand out, black and unnatural, as they rearrange their brother into a more comfortable position.

Stiles gets behind the wheel and pulls out of the lot. He notices Parrish’s car following them, providing an escort. Good. Maybe they’ll get to the hospital faster.

                                                                                                                        ~ * ~

MP, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

[movietweets]

Thor

Okie dokie, here we go one more time (obviously we’ll be doing it more times than one more) for another MCU film. This time I’ve got a jar of delicious greasy olives to hand and I’ll be watching Thor (2011). 

The only difference between this and other tweet-alongs is that I’m actually not going to tweet it! Yeah... I know that’s not really allowed but screw you! I make the rules and I prefer this format with the pictures and everything all at once.

Also since starting this I’ve lost 5 followers. It means almost nothing to me but I don’t want to be an annoying pest and I can see how filling up your timelines with endless tweets about a film you’re not even watching could get irritating. So suck it up, this is how it’s going to be from now on.

Anyway, on with the show.

What’s this? A rag-tag band of misfits in a van! If only they had a dog it could have been Scooby and the gang! They even have a Velma.

Daphney’s on point but looks like something awful happened to Fred. So sign of shaggy or scoob yet, no doubt they’re off somewhere making unrealistically tall sandwiches.

Oh, but maybe they’re baddies... they do appear to have a bomb,

Whoops, things aren’t going so well for them now. I’m having twister flashbacks!

Damn! Did they just hit someone? Maybe they are baddies...at least they got out to try and help. This has a sort of teen horror movie intro vibe to it. I’m sensing that they all might die soon. 

Oh now we’ve jumped back in time and now its a history documentary, That was unexpected! 

Oh not these guys from Game of Thrones! Is this set in Westeros then? Even the music is a bit like the GoT intro music.

Okay, this is a wackiest one yet, two alien races (that nonetheless look roughly humanoid) are having a war together on earth (of all places). It’s a little bit lord of the rings too. I’m having all kinds of feelings here. 

Asgard: also known as Organ pipe city.

So what? Fight to the death? My money is on the blond kid, the other one looks like the jealous villain type. 

I guess he did win then...Look at that cheeky wink. Although, I think it was aimed at his mother? Maybe that’s normal here. 

Healthy Asgardian flirting with mum

Alternate cast of The Lord of the Rings

And that guy dressed in jealous green must be his brother from before. Man he looks bitter. I bet he turns out to be the main baddy. These films have a track record of introducing the baddy within the first 10 minutes and I get the feeling it isn’t going to be Velma or any of the Mystery Machine bunch.

Oh Heck! Its an icy man! They’re baddies too!

Ooo, don’t piss off King daddy!

He’s such a sneaky snake. If only Thor didn’t have such an ego. He’s like Norse Tony Stark

Typical Gimli, in the room for 5 seconds and already grabbed a massive plate of food. 

Roadtrip! 

Why are they riding horses though, isn’t this world super high tech? Come to think of it, why are they wearing armor and fighting with swords? Don’t they have laser guns? Even that bloke from Ironman, living in a hovel in Russia, managed to cobble together a laser weapon. What gives!?

Idris Elba! Oh I hope he’s a main character! Looks like he needs a rest though... his eyes are pretty bloodshot.

Is this where rainbow road from mariocart is set? Or is that some kind of future techno-path?

Ideally I’d like to make some clever comment about this transportation sphere thing but its just too bizarre... Who know’s maybe this is what alien technology is like?

Hold your breath guys!

Could have said something earlier Asian Aragron! No use piping up now with your doubts!

Yep, I’m sure he’s going to back down now. He seems like the backing down type to be honest. Not a hot head, just easy going Thor, trying not to upset anyone.

Nobody calls me a woman! Even though there’s nothing wrong with being a woman. I’m not a sexist demi-god, really I promise! I know literally every other religion has a pretty bad track record but I’m different... It wasn’t what he said, it was the way he said it! 

Daaaaammnnnn! You got burned son! How you gonna let him front like that?

Oww! You got me right in the hand! No fair! And down he goes like a premiership football player. 

Cool hammer trick, I wonder how he does it? Magnets? It’ll definitely be magnets. I’ll bet it’s magnets.

Oh no! Frostbite! I’m sure there won’t be any long term consequences though.

Why is he only pulling out that attack now? Also, great wrist action, that must come in useful... Some friends he’s got though leaving him there to fight alone.

Another neat trick...This guy is a demon with the hammer.

Okay, now this is just hammer porn.

How many legs does that horse have? Is that part of the mythology?

Uh oh! Somebody is going to be grounded when they get home!

Isn’t Thor the god of lighting? If Final Fantasy has taught me anything about elemental damage its that he should have gained HP from that taser.

He’s going to end up in an institution! Hasn’t he worked it out that he’s on earth yet? They all knew about earth earlier.

Here’s Johnny!

I guess you’re not going to be crowned King Arthur.

Told you! That’s it buddy, you’re in the system now. Your only hope is a Native American smashing a window with a water fountain. 

Wow, Portman really has a knack for running this guy over.

HMB I’m going to get me a kingdom. 

Okay party’s over. Agent killjoy is here.

Yeah, real subtle Portman! I know he’s got a pretty ripped body though so I don’t blame you for acting like a school girl.

Oh surprise, surprise! Sneaky snake bro is a sneaky snake.

I’m blue dabba dee dabba doo. He actually might be that guy from X-men though. 

Stolen avatar baby. Again this seems familiar. Right George R.R. Martin? 

NO! DADDY!

HAHAHA! This guy is worse than Hulk for smashing.

How much did Zuckerburg pay for that totally unnecessarily distraction from the scene.

Oh she’s totally smitten. He’s everything a girl could want: brutish, zero social awareness, no money but really confident and with a killer bod. It literally makes no sense though, she’s a total babe but has to wait for a mental patient to literally fall from the sky to find a man. Has she even tried Tinder?

America! Land of freedom! They’ll steal your stuff and there’s nothing you can do about it...

Apple? you too? Aren’t you setting enough Ipods already? It’s 2011 for christs sake. I swear Velma is only in this for the product placement. 

The king is dead, long live the king. He’s like one of those co-workers who suddenly becomes a dick when they get a promotion so supervisor.

Good thing she turned up, that guy looked like he was about to show him to the back-room bestiality ring he runs on weeknights.

She’s doing some pretty impressive mental gymnastics there to even consider that he might not be completely bonkers. 

Is this a theme starting to emerge, ignoring daddies instructions?

Why does he need to go in there at all, that’s my question. we’ve already seen that he can use his magnet hands to summon it from a distance. He could have done that from up on the hill and then flown them both the hell out of there before anybody knew what was going on.

Gun or bow and arrow? 

Hmmm... I’m feeling cocky today.

I knew it was magnets! 

He just said it! Right there!

Oh, what a let down. He’s fucked now.

No use crying over impossible to pick up hammer. As they say.

Who’s this Robin Hood guy anyway, obviously not just a random grunt or he’d have gone with the gun and would probably be dead by now.

What is snakeboy doing here? It’s all your fault but don’t blame yourself. This guy is a sociopath.

I think my eyes just nearly rolled out of their sockets. Absolutely shameless.

Okay MUM!

Earth Daddy is a rebel after all. CHUG THE BEER, GET IT DOWN, DOWN IN ONE, DRINK IT ALL!

Of course it was all him all along. Sneaky snake.

MY VOICE IS RIDICULOUSLY DEEP AND RESONANT!

Just having a chilled night in with a good book and some ‘Go Lean’ Cereal! 

Oh! Heaven forbid that he see your cereal!

Greedy ginger Hagrid is always stuffing his bloody face!

“Don’t you DARE fat shame me!” 

Everything in Asgard is so serious and stern. Don’t they ever just chill?

So that’s where crop circles come from! It’s just the Norse gods popping in for a visit. Technically it is aliens then I guess.

Final boss? It does look like something from Dark Souls. 

Oh cool! Cosplayers! 

Just act natural guys...

Not dinosaurs? I it could happen right? Wouldn’t be the craziest thing to have happened in this film so far.

Oh no its just Norse Ironman. Eat shit Tony.

Just like in the wild west... but seriously, why hasn’t Norse Ironman used his face cannon to finish the job yet? He’s wide open!

Wow, that worked?

Psyche!

Oooofff!

He’s not going to have died though is he... lets get real here. Something is going to save him.

There we go space daddy’s tears made a massive hammer fly out of the sky and electrocute him back to health. 

Saw that coming a mile off, its straight out of the superhero user manual.

Can you really hit fire with a hammer?

It’s not exactly what you’d call comfortable though is it.

What a melt.

Really, all that tension and you’re only going to kiss her hand?

Finally.

WHAT? Double, double cross!? Such a sneaky snake but it won’t help you once Thor gets here.

What’s the big deal about frost giant genocide? They’re obviously evil! Just look at what they’ve done north of the wall already! They’ll eat Danarys! Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

How come it doesn’t just crush straight through him if its so heavy?

That was lucky. These superheros always get lucky.

Nice shot. This film has been surprisingly good quality, I think its the first one that I’ve really enjoyed the whole way through. Even despite its ridiculousness!

No surprises at who’s tucking in at the feast!

Awhh Daddy is finally proud of you. What a tear jerker.

Alright, lets see what happens in the after credits scene...

Oh its earth daddy and nicky the patch! Take a look at my energy cube? Oh no! who’s that in the background?! Not snakey snake bro!

The End.

Well I didn’t hate that one. I didn’t hate it at all. Tune in next time for Captain America. It’s one that I’m particularly looking forward to hating every second of. Bloody America man! 

[herrrrt-lessthanforwardslash3]

Why does everything hurt so much Why is all I ever wish for Idk what anymore I’m more lost than ever just trying to do what’s right Or am I just kidding myself Just as oblivious Just as blind I hate the things that bother me I hate the things my father sees I hate the things I could never be I hate the lies in me I hate the falling apart I hate at night I hate waking up I hate everything in my life I hate my mind I’m just losing it slowly So when I’m gone I hope nobody knows me I just want to go away Disappear Just disappear Why am I here Why am I here I’m not okay Things will never be the same It’s easier to pretend and save face Than it is to find strength I’m sick of drowning in a waste of time But why save someone without much left in their life A broken dream With cracks splitting the foundation I can’t erase them I can only come undone I can only fall apart slowly I can’t I don’t even know me I hurt inside I hurt all the time It makes life easier in the worst ways At least when it hurts I can withdraw in peace Imagine the scenarios that break me And when they happen I can chase disappointment I hold on to the hope that maybe one day I’ll wake up Or maybe one day I won’t ever have to again I just want this empty feeling to end It’s grown deeper this last year Idk who you are anymore But I wish you were here I miss her I missed her Every time I see that smile And cry in her arms My words lie My heart burns There’s no turning back She’s the only thing I have And I try and walk on water Drowning to follow her Maybe self destructive pain is my true love Maybe I’m not worth much And she’s fucked up The only person that’s truly needed me I still can’t be me She makes me breathe But I just wanna sink I wanna die in my sleep And relive my misery She’s all I hope for anymore And it doesn’t even matter Well it matters but makes no difference She wants him And I’m not it Why does this happen to me Why can’t I just be Without breaking I don’t know what to do She says she does but I’m the one still shaking I have this self reporting story I take my life and put it to words Waste effort making it rhyme Hoping for what it’s worth That maybe if I come up with the perfect verse She’ll change her story too And I’ll finally be hers Because she’s not mine No I promise I’m fine I’m always okay I’m good all the time I’ll wear this brave face And I’ll fake the exact same smile Just to lift her up for a couple seconds I’d die just for chance of a little while If it would help her make it just another mile in her shoes I’ll stay here as this fool on his hill I’ll pretend I feel better with every handful of pills No suicide note I never had a life No living will For someone dead inside How can I feel so low When I chase life in every high Irony remains But that key concept won’t unlock being chained to this blinding pain Truth won’t shelter me from my loathsome rain clouds If I had one wish It would be erased from her memory But leave her the same I helped her become now And give to me another name And maybe I’ll wear it proud Maybe I’ll blend in with the crowd And if she feels like somethings missing I hope I’m on the inside Never looking out But drowning Falling down Living just to know the lowest I guess that’s where I’m destined always Honest Sad and crying alone as I fail to ever lift myself up off the ground Make her okay Cut my throat Before I watch her leave As my blood leaks out Im out of lifetimes I’m out Truth my newfound medicine Drink it down Drunk on the sorrows Burning so loud I can hear those flames As my framework snaps and breaks So feed this fire In this fire I’ll be made And once again return to the starting gates Emptiness my masterpiece I create Just to wake up in another life Wondering if I’ll ever change Or forever wasted breaking rules to the most heavenly sacred of games Dispensing blame I can’t take for my own Suicide king upon his hatred like a throne Light me on fire Still I’ll treat my own heart so cold I’ll walk the same train tracks And call them home Numb to every hope I ever known I’ll kill every hope I ever let myself sew Nothing ever mends the rip in my soul A patchwork broken home Let me go I wish I could find strength to leave this kingdom But I just watch it grow And how it’s grown And have faith I won’t ever have to hurt through life Hurt through life I go But it’s all I really know Pain That’s how my river flows Darker with every sunset Shadows always come back I hadn’t ever realized it Numb broken cold meet your match Tattoo a broken life upon my troubled path I’ll decompose alone It’s so sad What’s really so wrong with that I’m dissolving in drugs that killed my dreams Choking every time I try and breathe In every heartbeat so wretched and aching Tearing at its seams I can’t stop crying without you Breaking because of what we’ll never be I can’t fucking do this I can’t face this fight without you I didn’t know I could hurt like this It’s because this pain is about you What fuck is there left to say You took all my pain away You made everything feel okay You were my only real friend I think I’ve ever made Crying in your arms today because I love you And my dying family is far away I’m falling apart right now thinking of you A broken glass and shipwrecked bottle of a life I just wanted your love And you to love mine But it’s not right No one really knows how to save a life Her green eyes and subtle vibes It’s not your fault Mollsie Even though you’re my reason why I can’t handle this anymore inside This hurts more than anything I’ve ever known Because I really fucking tried I put my heart and soul and everything else behind So cut me deepest with your words And let your tears be how I drown Carve your knife into my chest And walk away as I bleed out And when you hear my cry for help Make that why you never turn around And as I try and crawl back to your path Make that where you shoot me down So before you erase my memory I’ll say everything with what’s left in me I’m sorry for everything I ever meant to you I wish you weren’t why I fell I just wanted to be best friends But best friends became this hell It’s this haunting nightmare I can’t escape Loving you in the wrong way I’ll never be okay You became everything before I realized it I just wanna go away I’ve never felt so fucking broken in my life I’d take withdrawals and suicide forever over this feeling I don’t fucking get it I can’t fucking process this I’m fucking disintegrating into nothing I don’t wanna live this I don’t want to be me I don’t want to be here I just wanna fall apart in your arms but you’re why I’m not okay what the fuck is happening to me what the fuck is this what did I do I don’t fucking know what the fuck happened why is this happening again i don’t know what the fuck to do I’m breaking down