#every little thing has a purpose and a reason and suddenly we forget that a Respected Police Officer had a known villain and associate

[stupidlicious]

spider-man (to get your attention)

so i was sitting here doing my makeup and thinking about Officer Morale and Uncle Aaron and all that good stuff (spoilers for both movies ahead I think)

and i was thinking, how was there not some big scandal about The Prowler dying and being discovered to be the brother of Good Cop Officer Morales, soon to be captain???

weak theory 1: officer morales managed to keep on the down low that his dead brother was wearing the prowler suit and either in good faith or with money managed to have his fellow officers and the coroner not say anything.

weak theory 2: the prowler was SO GOOD at his job that nobody ever saw him and so when he died and his suit was found, nobody was concerned because nobody knew.

realistic theory: plot armor

anyway

[showtoonzfan]

Rewatching the Hazbin pilot again, and ya’ll remember how Angel Dust was actually a dick on purpose? He didn’t care about the hotel, he was a selfish candidate who was just in it for the rent, he talked shit about Charlie and Vaggie behind their backs, he was a reckless jackass who didn’t know when to read the room and that was the point. He wasn’t a good person and he especially didn’t like or trust Charlie and Vaggie, so seeing his arc of gaining friends and being compassionate towards the people he didn’t appreciate at first in episode fucking 4/6 of the first season is so wild to me.

It’s so rushed and forced, especially for a character like Angel. It was clear from the pilot that while he had some redeeming qualities, getting along with others would take time. In the show however they manage to woobify him even more than he already was. He’s just so damn sensitive, there’s a big difference between him and pilot Angel. Pilot Angel didn’t give a shit about what other people thought of him, and he owned it. Show Angel is incredibly sensitive and pissed off at every little thing, he’s so whiny and desperate for some kind of approval, which on its own isn’t bad, it’s just too fast, not just that but it’s sudden with no buildup. In episode 2 of the show, he gets sad for some reason when Charlie is complimenting Sir Pen. Then in episode 4, he suddenly cares about her and there’s no explanation to why, same goes for Nifty in episode 6. Like yeah it’s nice to see him care about others but you forget to show us WHY he cares. Viv has gone on to say before that his character involves him putting walls up and blocking people out in fear of him getting hurt, so like….what happened to that lol, cause that isn’t showcased in the show.

Husk has the same issue. This guy is supposed to be a grumpy drunk, in the pilot we know he only took the bartending job for the booze. He’s a messy guy who doesn’t like anyone, and it should have been awhile till he actually started to care about people. Instead he’s like..almost instantly friendly after episode 4. This is the same writing issues Helluva Boss had btw. Viv is so incredibly desperate for you to like her flawed/bad characters that rather than taking the time to actually show them slowly improving, she instantly paints them out to be sweet and expects you to go along with it.

[bijoumikhawal]

Bite the Hand that Starves You: Chapter Five

Fic as of this chapter contains: discussion of abortion, references to drug use, intersex and trans characters, torture/graphic violence, colonialism and its aftermath, implied sexual violence, disassociation

Kardasi: peikirvi- would translate to something like "concubine", specifically refers to an individual that socially presents as male, and was assigned such at birth, but can carry children (and often could impregnate someone else), who is legally bound to someone. Usually this is done with a pre-existing couple who has fertility issues.

Cheoche and cheyeda: could be translated as something like "patron" and "vassal". "Che" in Kardasi refers to charity, which is viewed as a duty to society rather than a choice made of good will. More specifically, a cheoche is a wealthy family/clan who takes on the affairs of a poorer or weaker one (the cheyeda), legally binding the two together for several generations. This can be typified in three ways: the cheyeda being a family who was once great and has become destitute, the family of a beloved artist, or a family of the "service class". For the latter, having a cheoche often provides a stable income, food, housing, and better schooling and training. Some cheyeda even have inheritance rights from their cheoche. However, while the relationship is glorified as going above and beyond ones duty, it is a system rife with abuse. The Tain and Garak families are bound this way.

Kisam- a matchmaker

kashmim- Cardassian time unit roughly equal to nine years

---

“I’ll be just a moment.” Garak said, sensing someone enter the shop and hearing the small noise maker he’d attached to the door be set off by the sliding motion of the door.

He finished the slight adjustment of the clothing in front of him, and turned around. “What can I-“

The words died In his throat when he saw just who had walked into his shop. Suddenly he was both full of white hot anger, and felt like a young, easily manipulated schoolboy again. “What are you doing here, Lokar.” He leaned into the anger. There was no time to question why he was alive, or how. The fact that his punishment had initially been execution still was within reason, given this… sight.

“Lokar? Oh, Elim, we were much closer than that, weren’t we?” Barkan leered at him, his voice, once simply gruff, now like sandpaper over the ears. A lesser man wouldn’t have noticed the hatred burning under his gaze. He looked around. “Charming little shop. I expected you to be up your elbows in soil or circuitry the next time I saw you.”

Garak moved so that the display table in the middle of the room was solidly between the two of them, and his way into his backroom was clear.

Not for the first time, he wished there was more than one entrance and exit to his shop. It had after all, been purposely designed so any proprietor within could be easily cornered by the Cardassian soldiers sent to fetch him. Almost all the shops had similar design features. He simply was unfortunate enough to be more intimately acquainted with them than the other merchants. The only other that had been there in those days was Quark, and his establishment had the privilege of at least one exit on every level.

“There isn’t much soil here I’m afraid, and I doubt Starfleet would allow a random civilian to get his hands in their circuitry.” He quashed the temptation to ask after Paladine and Kel. Barkan would only lie, and mock him all the while.

Barkan tilted his head. “A shame. You looked so at home when you were tending orchids on Romulus.”

Something about that made Garak snap. “You’re begging for an assassination, coming here.” Garak snarled. “The Bajorans did not forget who started ore processing here.”

Barkan sighed. “Such a shift in conversation, and here I was being civil.” He started to stalk in front of the table, not leaving Garak with a clear shot out the door. “And frankly, I’m surprised you’d say such a thing. After all, there are Bajorans that certainly remember you, yet look at you- sitting so nicely in your shop.”

Oh yes, they remembered him- that first morning, after the withdrawal, they certainly remembered him. In his low moments, he used to wish Odo hadn't interfered.

“You're being horribly cold to me, you know.” Barkan chided him. “A good Cardassian would be hospitable, even to a stranger.”

“I could hardly afford the hospitality you're used to.”

Loudly, someone cleared their throat. Garak saw Odo filling the doorway now, and had rarely felt such relief in his life. “Garak, is there a problem here?” He eyed Barkan suspiciously.

“No, constable.” He said in a tone that doubtlessly would only convince Odo that there was, in fact, a problem. “Lokar here was simply lost. He was looking for Del Floria’s, I believe.”

Barkan clearly recognized Odo, eyes flicking down to his Bajoran uniform with distaste. “It's nice seeing you again, Odo.”

Odo crossed his arms. “Del Floria’s is on the other side of the Promenade.”

Barkan smiled. “Thank you. Always helpful, aren't you?” He began walking out. “I’ll be on the station for the next few days, Elim.” He clapped Odo on the chest. “I have a great deal of catching up to do with Dukat, now that I’m returning to public life.”

Odo rubbed his chest, staring after him.

---

One could say Barkan Lokar possessed certain characteristics. Among them, unfortunately, was persistence. Going about his day, Barkan kept appearing just on the edge of his vision. Often, Odo was there as well.

Garak acted as though he hadn't noticed either of them. Things were stabilizing, now. He was able to (mostly) focus on work again. The outbreak of kunowaat- which he'd noticed, but hadn't been able to concern himself with- had no new patients, according to the station rumor mill. A Ferengi festival was upcoming.

It had been three days since Dr. Ammshah left.

Garak had a special delivery to pick up. He'd placed it before this whole mess, knowing it would take awhile back then. He'd almost forgotten it until today- when he got a message from the vendor saying it'd be dropped in corridor J, not too far from where it connected to the promenade. Little foot traffic to worry about, but still accessible.

Unfortunately, that made it an excellent tome for Barkan to be direct in his efforts once more. The seeming lack of presence as he entered the hall gave no comfort. Garak often regretted teaching Barkan what he'd learned from the regnar.

He could delay- his delivery wasn't out in the open- but it wasn't just that.

He had no desire to wait for Barkan to act.

He sensed the shift as the lights changed- they were kept dim here, due to the lack of traffic. It saved a bit of power. He kept walking.

With more time to plan, he could have put himself at great advantage. But then… he'd have to explain himself, after. And no matter what, that would go very poorly for him.

Barkan formally announced himself with a hand on Garak’s wrist.

Garak turned, twisting his way out of the grab. “Rather forward, aren't you?”

“Did you hit your head, Elim? I'm rather curious about where this amnesia of yours has come from.”

“I had hoped for your death. I think you'll find a better answer in that than playing doctor.” Garak said. And yes, he had. He’d felt foul and yet he knew that best outcome would be this man’s blood on his hands.

“You did a lot more than hope.” Barkan stepped forward. Perhaps he was goading Garak to run further down the corridor, away from the promenade.

“And was about as effective, it seems.” Garak didn't give in, standing firm.

“Oh, I wouldn't say that.” Barkan lunged forward him. Garak ducked, punching him in the ribs. Barkan wheezed out a laugh, catching himself. “I've learned my lesson about underestimating you.”

Garak waited. Watched. It was almost like the pit- his energy crashed against Barkan's, even as he stayed against the wall, catching his breath from the blow. Then- his foot came out, catching Garak’s weaker leg, and sending him back against the opposite wall.

Barkan turned, lunging again. He seemed more intent on grappling Garak than striking him. Garak dodged him again, this time not bothering to try and hit him.

That changed things. Garak had expected a fight- a most likely deadly one, yes, but something he could get it over with. Barkan was a hitter when angry, and not especially good with self control in private. He normally had no plan, simply seeking a way to satisfy his anger. Going with a grapple meant he had one.

He had to get out of here.

Barkan had kept him with his back facing more corridor- to get to the promenade, Garak had to get past him.

They both stayed locked in stance. Seeing what move the other would make- had Barkan figured out Garak had switched expectations?

Garak moved first, aiming to hit Barkan on his left arm and get past him.

The blow landed, but Barkan pivoted, turning and slamming them both against the wall.

Barkan’s hand moved to his chest, as though to press his comms for the Cardassian ship docked, when an alarmed voice called out.

“Garak!” Julian was quickly making his way towards the two of them.

Barkan startled at the interruption, and Garak took the opportunity to send him down to the floor by elbowing him in the face. He moved quickly, grabbing the doctor by the arm and steering the both of them to the more populated parts of the station.

“Garak, what was that about? Do you want me to call security? God, you’re bleeding!”

Garak touched his neck. It seemed at some point, Barkan had managed to scratch the unprotected skin in the center. “Doctor, in the future I would advise against you walking around near derelict parts of the station by yourself.” He stole a glance behind them, turning his torso. No sign of Barkan. Unfortunately, he knew Garak’s favorite trick, so that couldn’t be assured.

“Me?! Garak, I came looking for you. It was halfway through our usual lunch appointment, you hadn’t shown up, you weren’t in your shop, you hadn’t messaged me to say you had to miss it this week-“ Julian took a breath. “And I either found you being attacked, or…”

“The first option, I assure you.” It wasn't really soothing, Garak could tell, but it gave Julian more time to breathe instead of talking.

“My question stands about security, then.”

By now there were at least a dozen other people milling about, and Garak allowed himself to relax into his usual state of awareness. “No, I do not want to report this to security.” Dimly, he realized that Barkan had seen Julian with him. If Dukat hadn’t told him about the incident with Rugal, then surely now he would be on Barkan’s radar. “I might perhaps discuss it with constable Odo, off the record.”

Julian stopped him. “I doubt you’ll go to the infirmary with me to get your neck seen to.”

“You would be correct.”

Julian sighed. “Will you wait outside while I grab some equipment and let me do it in your shop, then?”

Garak considered it. “Yes, doctor.”

---

Sisko was going over his weekly communique from Starfleet went Odo came in early. He set aside the padd. "Constable. I've been eager for our daily meeting."

"Did something happen?" Odo tilted his head slightly.

"Dr. Bashir made a report today regarding something he hoped we'd coordinate on."

"A report about Garak." Odo harrumphed. "Coincidentally, that's why I'm here early today. One of Dukat's guests is someone you need to be aware of."

"Sounds like this is going to be a long talk. Take a seat, Constable."

Occasionally, Odo would remark that neither made any difference to him and remain standing, but not today. "Barkan Lokar was murdered close to three years ago. Today I saw him on the promenade."

Sisko sat up a little straighter at that.

Odo took a breath, considering. More out of imitation, Sisko guessed. "Lokar was the mastermind of the mining operation on Terok Nor, though he left the day to day to Dukat. His presence on the station, for that reason alone, is a security threat."

"And then there's the reason Dr. Bashir made his report." Sisko tapped his fingers on this desk. "He said he suspected they knew each other."

"He suspected correctly. Garak was Lokar’s… the closest translation would be concubine, peikirvi. His wife stayed on Prime, but Garak traveled with Lokar while he was on duty. Back then I only knew of Garak as “Elim”."

Sisko didn't hide the displeasure on his face at hearing the closest translation of the word. "I see."

"Garak was also supposed to have killed him. At the beginning of peace talks with the Federation, when the military was starting the evacuation of all non-essential personnel, Lokar stayed to help Dukat close out the mines. I was ordered by both to keep Garak confined to quarters, ostensibly for his own safety. A week later, he was found trying to steal a runabout by a patrol. The officer who found him tried to return him to his quarters, where they found Lokar's body, strangled." Odo paused. "No close examination of the body was allowed. Garak was incredibly agitated and bore injuries. I suspect he may have been intoxicated as well, but no testing was carried out. Dukat decided no further investigation was needed- to him, it was obvious there was a fight, and Garak had gone too far. Something about how the two had known each other since military school, and that Garak must have let old grievances get to him."

"I presume he was more biased than that." Garak at military school… now there was an odd picture.

Odo hmphed. "Of course. Lokar was his closest friend that wasn't a subordinate. He'd requested that the Central Command allow him to handle things personally. Garak was sentenced to labor under military detention after execution was denied for whatever reason, and Dukat assigned him to work as a tailor. Then he was intentionally left behind during the final evacuation."

Sisko gave in to the urge and grabbed his baseball. "So. I have a dead man walking, who happens to be one of the most hated men on the station, if not all of Bajor, and he has a personal violent history with one of our primary informants on Cardassia, who he's harassed today already."

"Twice."

"Twice." Sisko repeated, rubbing his temple. "First, keep an eye on Garak, but be subtle about it. Second, look into Lokar's whereabouts between now and then. Third, keep an eye on him, and don't be subtle. Increase security around the meeting tomorrow. Try to leave any investigation of the murder aside until Lokar is off the station. The rest, I leave to you."

Odo nodded. "As for my usual report…"

---

They'd tentatively resumed lunch. A day off from their usual schedule, unfortunately. There was a relieving quality to it- just like how the ones between the incident with the implant and this one had been, though stained with tension.

Three days worth of meetings... then Barkan would be off the station. He'd still be Garak’s problem... but at a distance.

Garak put that out of his mind. He had a young man to castigate. "As usual, it seems you don't understand your own literature. It's incredibly obvious that-" Garak stopped.

"Garak? Cat got your tongue?" Julian asked, amused.

Garak didn't bother chastising him for using idioms that gave the universal translator trouble. His attention had been pulled away by his parasite. Not only was Barkan around- he was walking toward them, which was what bothered Garak enough to stop.

Was he really going to do this in public?

The look in Barkan's eyes was cold, the way it was the first night Garak had navigated out of the wilderness successfully. Barkan’s gaze somehow became more cruel upon seeing Julian. “Ah. And here I had hoped you had some sense of properity within you.”

Julian tensed, recognizing the voice. "I didn't know Dukat had adopted the policy of giving his crew shore leave while a meeting is currently in progress."

Ignoring Julian, Barkan continued. “I never released you, Elim.”

“Never released me? I wasn’t aware I was a game bird.” Garak didn't deny the implication- the kind of person Barkan was, he'd take that as proof. The best thing to do was step around it, distance yourself from it.

"Game birds are better behaved."

The rest of the replimat was unsubtly looking over at them. Was that his game? After all, there are Bajorans that certainly remember you, yet look at you- sitting so nicely in your shop.

Many of the Bajorans previously on the station had left after withdrawal. Most of the people who associated Garak and Lokar that Garak still had to interact with weren't Bajoran- Odo, Quark and his staff, and so on.

It wasn't that Garak had never been publicly accosted by another Cardassian before. Most ignored him, but a few lacked the self control. What was making this differ was that anyone listening- even if they didn't quite get the implications, and many Bajorans did- could tell this was personal.

It was hard to predict how this would impact him down the road.

"Game birds don't follow orders, Lokar. They fly out of instinct. Perhaps you can relate." Garak turned away from him. "Speaking of, do mind your manners, doctor."

Dr. Bashir had been staring at Barkan the whole time. His attention snapped to Garak once called upon, eyes shifted, but still visibly thinking about how to get rid of Barkan. It was charming.

"I'm sorry, Garak. At my age I should know how to focus on a conversation, and not ignore someone."

Garak didn't laugh, but he did smile a bit. "Being aware of your flaws is good, but you need to act against them." He chided. "What would you do if you were at a medical conference, and ended up snubbing someone important because there was a fight at the snack bar you couldn't ignore?"

"How crass, Ten Lubak." Barkan said, sounding genuinely disappointed as he stalked away. He'd gotten what he wanted, after all- no need to linger.

---

Pay me a visit. And do not dress ostentatiously. The message read.

Garak frowned at it. When he was younger, he would have wondered if being ordered to return to his childhood home was a test, given that he was not to do so unless under specific circumstances. At this point, he knew the summons themselves were not the test.

He had a green outfit that would work well enough. It was a nice day- he might as well walk.

His mother was the one to greet him. "They're in the study." she told him. No recognition beyond what she'd give a normal guest- this was not a personal visit on Tain’s end, then. And, he already had a guest.

He nodded to her. “Thank you.”

Garak had not often gone upstairs when he lived here, and even less often to the study. He opened the door himself- he was allowed to, after all. Tain had his guests escorted if he felt guarded about such a thing as them opening doors by themselves.

He'd already had on a smile, and kept it firm even upon seeing the other guest.

He had expected Barkan would check if his “Elim Vronok” story was true, but this seemed a little much. At least he knew the role to play now; Elim Vronok, disgraced Bamarren washout who found out he was a bastard, changed his name, and now was a service class gardening drone. That still left the test…

“Barkan Lokar. I didn't expect to see you again so soon after our last meeting.” He gave it a formal distance, with a little warmth. He turned to Tain and bowed forward. “Patron.” Most likely, Lokar was here because Tain was officially the Garak family’s cheoche (this branch, anyway).

“You're being terribly formal, Elim. Sit, we have kanar.” Tain gave off the appearance of being relaxed, his presence withdrawn. And he did indeed, have a bottle of Kanar out and open. The two of then had each already poured a glass.

Garak did as he was told (it was never a request) and sat in the spare chair, pouring himself some kanar. Owing to the status of Elim Vronok compared to the room, he poured just half of the usual amount. “Might I ask what the occasion is?”

“How long has it been since Bamarren, Elim?” Barkan asked, looking into his drink.

“About two kashmim.”

“Two kashmim.” Barkan repeated. “As you know, Palandine and I were already betrothed back then. We formalized our relationship after completion of our studies at Bamarren. Two kashmim… and we only have one child.”

Garak bowed his head. “My condolences.” It was terror, to have just one child- that was only one opportunity for your hopes, ambitions, continuation of your name, and of course, only one opportunity for Cardassia. It would weigh especially heavy on Barkan, the man who taught Garak the real meaning of the word opportunity.

Deaths had decreased from what they'd been just before Garak was born, with hunger and illness rampant before the state made reforms. But both still hounded children in particular. And war…

Barkan sighed. “I love Kel dearly. The responsibility of being the only Lokar of her generation would crush her. Seeing you on Romulus reminded me… that I have options.”

The artifacts Tain kept on the walls suddenly made the room feel smaller.

So. That was what he'd come for. A slight panic must have appeared somewhere in him- his eyes, his posture. Barkan set down the glass, making a beseeching gesture. “I've been perfectly formal in discussing the matter before you arrived.”

Of course he had. He was wearing his newfound refinement like a shawl. Garak hadn't even been worried about Tain hearing of his school boy liaisons until it was alluded to.

Garak smiled as though relieved. “As fits the occasion.”

How did Barkan know? Had it come up while he was checking his Vronok story or had it been known at Bamarren and kept quiet as future leverage?

“Why me?” Garak asked, cloaking the question in a blend of bashfulness and humility. “Surely your family could find you a peikirvi, or a kisam could look further afield.”

Barkan smiled- the same smile he'd used on Garak at Bamarren. “I already know you, Elim. I came to like you and respect you during our time at school. I know you and Palandine won't destroy the household with petty strife. Those are guarantees I cannot get, no matter how clever my family or a kisam is, if I am marrying a stranger.”

“Well argued. Don't you agree, Elim?” Tain looked to him.

Barkan was friends with Skrain Dukat. Son of Procal Dukat, the would be coup leader. That was Tain’s angle here. Keep close to Barkan to keep aware of the Dukats.

How funny. Procal would despise his son's friend if he could see this now. An aristocratic military man raising a service class bastard to the honor of his peikirvi- what a fit he and every other member of the True Way would have.

“Very well argued.” How fortunate for Tain, that Barkan had thought of this himself and come to Tain as Garak’s cheoche. The latter was no matter of fortune, of course. Just good planning. As was this: positioning Garak this way had the potential to be very good planning.

Who was Garak to deny the will of his father, patron, head of the Order?

---

Julian knocked on the door frame to alert Sisko of his presence. "I have forms for you to sign." This was the last thing he needed to do- then he was off to bed.

"Oh, wonderful." Sisko lowered the padd he was looking at. "Inventory reports?"

"Among other things." Julian replied. He handed the data rod over to Sisko. "There's also requisition forms and a post-hoc form for that medical consult I had to call in." Normally, Julian would have done that before whoever he'd called in arrived, but Dr. Ammshah had caught him off guard.

"Did that go well?" Sisko connected the rod and the padd.

"Confidential." Julian said.

Sisko's brows raised as he skimmed the papers. Julian could pinch himself- normally, he would at least say if something went well. His knee jerk response gave the opposite impression, and he couldn't correct it. Sisko could probably guess who the consult concerned, and of course, had just reported to Odo the other day...

"This... is a long set of requisition forms." Sisko said after a moment. "Even for how many people have been ill."

"That's just how this disease is. It doesn't help that it's one of those where people tend to catch something else while already sick." Julian leaned on the back of the chair across from Sisko.

"How have you and the infirmary staff been holding up? Anyone giving you trouble?"

"No, no trouble- it's about as you'd expect." Julian replied. "We aren't being pushed to our limits yet, but we'll all be very glad when this is done with."

Sisko's eyes lingered on him, not bothering with subtlety as he squinted at Julian's face, then his uniform. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure. I'm very careful to make sure I don't give anyone more work than they can handle, and we managed to borrow a few nurses from the nearest outpost planetside." This was true- and key to this, just as much as the extra nurses, which of course no one else knew, was that Julian could do the work of two people in the infirmary. He was careful about it. No one noticed anything obviously unusual. "It's under con-"

A yawn rudely interrupted him. Julian felt his face warm slightly.

Sisko sighed. "Don't be over eager, doctor. It's better to ask for help early on if you need it, and to overestimate."

Julian laughed. "Thank you, sir, but I know my limits, and the limits of my staff."

"Good. Keep them in mind, and don't be shy to ask when you need something." Sisko nodded at him and raised the padd in Julian's direction. "I'll send these off once I'm done."

Julan inclined his head. "Thank you again."

[sugartitstownley]

The fevers, the heartaches (Trikey)

Prompt: A tiny glimpse of Michael’s first night after Ludendorff. Honestly, this is just angst. :,)

Warnings: small depictions of blood, vomit, and other gta-esque things.

I listened to this classic for the story.

The soft rumbling of cars driving by is barley noticeable over the radio being tuned in the corner. Dave Norton sits on the brown leather motel chair — a motel right off the main road in Ludendorff that he brought Michael to so both men could lay low until it was safe to relocate him and his family to Los Santos.

“Now, why won’t this stupid radio work? All I’m getting is static.”

Michael faintly hears Dave’s voice call out from his spot on the bed, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he keeps his eyes straight ahead, watching as a fly makes its way off the small boxed TV to the once-white walls that are now stained yellow and brown from ware.

“Townley, you listening?”

Michael forces himself to look at Dave, who’s now frowning in his direction. “What?”

“I don’t like that look,” Dave says. “There’s no backing out now. It’s too late. Philips is long gone. And we will be too in a few days.”

Michael gives a noncommittal hum. “And do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

“Michael — I think this is the only right thing you’ve done.”

At that, Michael just turns back to the wall, his eyes following the fly as it walks, buzzing and flying every so often. Life was so fucking easy for some creatures, he thinks.

After a few minutes have gone by, he lets his quiet voice wash over the room. “What’s going to happen to Trevor?”

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“Yeah, Christ,” Michael huffs. “I mean — I guess. Shit, I don’t know. Are you going to go after him?”

“I don’t think so,” Dave shrugs, his voice quiet too. “There’s not really a point. He thinks you’re dead.”

“Yeah,” he shakily breathes out. “I think I’m gonna go shower.”

Dave barley spares him a glance, continuing to poke and prod at the radio while Michael slides off the bed, grabbing his duffle bag and making his way to the bathroom.

Once the door is closed and locked, and he’s a safe distance away from the agent, he leans back against the door. The almost numb feeling he was experiencing mere moments ago vanishes in the silence of the four walls, and the events of the past 24 hours slam into him.

Michael’s face suddenly burns with a mix of anger and overwhelming regret. Trevor’s face — his words — ring through the air like the man is standing right next to him, screaming in his ear.

“T, you gotta get out of here!”

“Ain’t gonna leave you, Mikey!”

He knows Trevor is loyal, almost to a fault. And the only reason he ended up running was because Michael pleaded at him to go, yelling that he was dying and Trevor, if he stayed, would only be next.

He has been trying with everything in him to convince himself for months that his friend was a liability — someone that would end up killing him, Amanda, and their kids. Trevor’s reckless and irresponsible behavior only worsened as Brad pushed his way into the group, and it was becoming too much to deal with.

Even now, Michael knows that Trevor would never hurt Tracey or Jimmy on purpose. And if he was being really honest — truly, truly honest — he might even admit that his disdain for Brad’s integration into their little two-man posse was mostly driven by jealously at Trevor’s infatuation with him, even if it was friendly.

It was no secret that he and Trevor were more than friends themselves. It wasn’t uncommon for Michael to find himself kissing him after a successful score or leaning up against him during a movie just to be close. Which is why, as utterly fucked up as it is, Michael told Trevor to run.

But now, as his vision swims with unshed tears, he isn’t sure if his last minute decision will bring Trevor more torment than even death would have.

Michael tries to grab the towel off the broken rack, determined to forget the mess he’s created for himself. But as Trevor’s last words to him swirl in his mind, his hand grips at the rack too forcefully, leaving a bleeding gouge from the protruding metal as he pulls his arm back .

“Fucking shit!” Michael curses, watching the blood drip to the floor beneath him.

Michael grips the towel rack that’s already pealing off the wall from use and poor upkeep and yanks on it until the paint is falling to pieces at his feet and the bar is tearing off the wall.

“Fuck you,” he spits, throwing the bar into the corner of the small bathroom, the harsh sound of metal hitting tile echoing through the otherwise quiet room. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Feeling himself losing control, something he so desperately craves, he can no longer keep the tears that threatened to fall earlier at bay.

As his muffled cries fill the room, he slumps until his back is against the wall and shoulders are hunched as if the weight of his guilt is physically pushing him down.

The silence in the bathroom suddenly feels suffocating, and Michael can’t help but clench his fists as his heart pounds so loudly that he’s surprised he can’t hear it.

Grappling with the onslaught of his sudden panic, he tries to wipe his tears, only to smear blood down his face from the open wound on his hand.

“Damn it,” he hisses.

Usually unbothered by the sight of blood, he’s not sure why the metallic smell filtering through his nose is all of a sudden becoming unbearable. Queasiness twists in his stomach, leaving him trembling and lightheaded as he pushes himself off the floor, barely making it to the toilet before he was emptying what little dinner he had.

He takes a few shallow breaths at the end, trying to get his body back in his control.

“God, I don’t know if you’re there,” Michael’s raspy voice forces out, raising his head — eyelids half open. “But please.”

Michael doesn’t know what he’s begging for. The vomiting to stop. The tears to stop. Trevor’s crushing last words to him to vanish from his mind. Or, maybe, just for God to kill him right then and there.

A man is better off dead if he’s just going to cry and whine to God every time he sins, his mom used to say. How fucking ironic.

He flushes and then lays back against the tile floor. “I’m so sorry.”

He’s not sure if he’s talking to himself, to God, or to Trevor. He briefly allows himself to wonder what the other man is doing right now. Probably, if Michael has to guess, he’s somewhere a few towns over, creating upheaval in a dingy motel — quite like Michael is now. He and Trevor can be alike in that way at times.

He grabs at the toilet paper and dabs at his blood-dried hand before pulling out his phone and looking through the last couple texts between him and Trevor.

Dont forget the beer M. Need it to celebrate after the score.

Got it already. Be back soon.

K

Michael hits ‘reply’ and runs his fingers over the keys, typing slowly.

Please take care of yourself. Delete.

I’m sorry. I’ll always love you. Delete.

I wish I could forget you. Delete.

Michael drops the phone on to the tile beside him, knowing he can’t send any messages, and moves to stand up. His legs feel like jelly as he starts to pull his shirt over his head and unbuckle his pants for the shower he was supposed to take fifteen minutes ago.

Reaching for the metal handle, he turns on the hot water and steps inside, reveling in the steam that nearly burns his skin.

He knows San Andreas is waiting for him, and it’s too late to back out now. It’s too late.

When Michael finally does emerge from the bathroom — clean from blood, tears, and vomit — he finds Dave still toying with the radio, pretending not to watch as Michael lays down in the motel bed.

But just as his eyes start to feel heavy and the events of the day briefly begin to fade from memory, Dave’s voice sounds softly from the other side of the room.

“Los Santos will make it easier. Forgetting will get easier.”

And, God, Michael hopes that’s true.

[the-force-awakens]

Saw a gif set of Poe sticking up for Holdo, and now I'm thinking about how Poe is first to notice not one, yet TWO self sacrifices in tlj

Oh yeah, I think about that a lot. So much so, that I made a gifset about it once. It's something that I think goes over people's heads, by and large, just judging from how they talk about Poe in that movie -- but the sheer fact is, the movie opens with Poe doing the exact thing that Luke does. He goes out, one man against an army to give the Resistance more time to evacuate, by offering himself up as bait.

Poe recognizes a self-sacrifice, because...he's tried it. We see him do the same thing, it just largely gets overlooked because what happens is that it doesn't work. That's the horrifying fact for Poe: he's convinced that the most he can offer the Resistance is his own noble sacrifice, and if in the meantime, he can take down a fleet killer that could kill them all later? That's even better. But instead, Poe survives - Poe survives, again, let us not forget that he's also the only one, save the First Order and BB-8, that night in the village - and instead he has to reckon with the fact that people under his command have died again, while he hasn't.

"Dead heroes, no leaders" in my perspective, tlj is by and large Poe being forced to reckon with the fact that there's more to him and more to this fight than just dying for the cause. One thing I'm noticing throughout my chronological reread of stuff that's about/features Poe heavily, is that there is this desperate need for purpose that guides him, and that purpose seems to truly be to be a soldier, a hero that can pull of last minute miracles, and if he happens to die for the right reasons at least it'll be for the right reasons, and if he gets a little adventure in between, that's even better. That elusive search for that purpose pushes him off Yavin in Free Fall, and he's still struggling to find it when he's with the Defense Fleet in Age of Resistance.

So, Poe's spent majority of his life wanting to be a soldier like his parents. In some ways, he thinks that's what he's best at. When Leia implies that she can see more in him after L'ulo's funeral in the comics, Poe is confused - he can't see that potential in himself. And then even after he understands what she's trying to tell him, in the Enshado arc, he mentions to Snap that he prefers being a pilot, and not have to make the hard calls or moral decisions that command has to - for Poe, he's more than happy to be t he person to jump into the fire and do what's necessary, even if it costs him his own life. He doesn't fear death, he doesn't even fear it in Free Fall when he's just sixteen/seventeen years old, and it's clear that he still doesn't really by the time the movies roll around.

And TFA, he was originally supposed to be the martyred hero. And he still almost is - but that sacrifice is aborted, and suddenly Poe is the survivor of that mission to Jakku. And the First Order is so much larger than any of them could have ever imagined - so he offers himself as bait, to give the Resistance some time. He could have easily died, during that initial run. He strapped experimental tech that hadn't even been tested to his X-Wing, just to give him an edge, so the Resistance could finish evacuating. He was ready and willing to die for them.

And he knows, first hand, more than anyone else in the Resistance, just how big the First Order is. He puts himself between them and the ship he was just held captive and tortured aboard for days - and decides that if nothing else, the dreadnought has to go because it's a fleet killer.

(And sure, no one in that battle went into it for the "right" reasons. Every Resistance officer in that fight wanted a fight. They've lost people, just lost their home, lost their only support - and I've no doubt that's also going through Poe's head.)

But then...Poe isn't the one to make the sacrifice. It's everyone else, and it's on his command. And he knows it was the right call to make, because the Resistance can't be killed by a fleet killer later (good thing, too, since the first order ambushes them) but...he still lost people under his command, and he has to deal with the worst weight of leadership: being the one to survive.

And then he straight up gets grounded. Like, his X-Wing is destroyed. Poe cannot be the kind of hero that he believed he was anymore - that soldier/rebel pilot to run headfirst into things. Now, he's pushed into the role that Leia normally is: the one to stay behind, and trusting an important mission to someone else. Being the person that everyone tries to come back to.

And it results in Poe becoming what Leia knew he could be all along: someone people could trust and be inspired by to follow, to fight for. When the Resistance feels that it can't trust Holdo, they trust Poe. And under the threat of total obliteration, and the knowledge that they're officially the last line of defense between the galaxy and the First Order, and almost dying several times and losing so many people he was friends with and almost losing Leia - I really do think Poe realizes he doesn't want to die, he wants to live for the Resistance, for the galaxy, and not just die for them. He knows, now, that there's more to him than a noble sacrifice, and he sure as hell doesn't want the people who died while he got to live's deaths are in vein (we see that lampshaded explicitly in tros).

Poe recognizes a self sacrifice when he sees one, because it used to be the first thing he'd think to do. But by tros, we see that he cares less about a noble sacrifice, and more about surviving -- which is the biggest hurtle he's maybe overcome, considering how little he's always feared death.

This is already a touch incoherent and rambly because I'm tired, but I think - I think the slightly tragic thing about Poe is that he wanted to be a soldier like his parents. But he got so good at it, that he ended up flying straight into being a leader - and that terrified him, because that meant that Poe had outgrown the purpose he's been seeking his entire life, and it also means that he has to carry a lot more burdens, including the burdens of when his plans go wrong. He can't be the person to die with his squadron, he gets to be the one to survive and carry their sacrifice with him.

[frodo-with-glasses]

Discord Highlights: Bilbo Gamgee

From a discussion on 4/28/23

meg is me:

Headcanon for no reason that Bilbo Gamgee is like my own bby cousin who spoke zero words until he was like 2 and a half and then suddenly decided to talk one day and turns out he had been building quite the vocabulary 😂

InvisibleWashboard:

That goes well with our previously established chaos gremlin lore, I think.

meg is me:

is baby bilbo autistic. Maybe. Yes.

InvisibleWashboard:

Yo, so for some reason for YEARS I have thought Pippin's wife is autistic. Don't know where that came from or why, but it's firmly stuck in my head.

meg is me:

Little bilbo gets it into his curly little head that dwarves WILL come to his house one day and he's always watching for them Gimli and Legolas come for a visit one time Bilbo goes WILD with excitement IT'S TIME that it is one dwarf and an elf and not 13 and a wizard bothers him not a trifle

Me:

Bilbo swiftly gets himself into a wrestling match with Gimli

InvisibleWashboard:

And Legolas and Gimli definitely take him on a mini adventure while they're visiting.

Writing Valkyrie:

He asks Gimli about his beard.

Me:

*Mean Girl voice* “Oh my GOSH, Bilbo, you can’t just ask people why they have beards!”

Writing Valkyrie:

He wants to know for when he has his own beard! Gimli is like, "Um, lad, I don't know if you'll have a beard." But still teaches him anyways..

Me:

Where’s that headcanon post about the Brandybucks being the only hobbits who can grow even a little bit of facial hair, and Merry is inordinately proud that he has three chin hairs he’s gotta shave every day??

InvisibleWashboard:

Estella absolutely makes fun of him relentlessly for this.

Writing Valkyrie:

He treats 'em with the same importance and respect as the three hairs Galadriel gave Gimli.

meg is me:

Little bilbo asks to see the map of The Mountain and the key and everything and Gimli is like.... here's a Gondor map? And bilbo is like YES but you gotta put a dragon on it and Gimli is like I borrowed this from aragorn I can't deface it and Legolas is like I personally will draw you a dragon little hobbit child

Legolas can't draw

InvisibleWashboard:

Legolas not being able to draw is giving me fits.

meg is me:

I imagine little Bilbo being adamant that he is BILBO And he wants Bilbo's adventure When he leaves the house he forgets his handkerchief on purpose just so he can say he forgot it 😂 He loves Gimli because Dwarves are essential to The Bilbo Story He hears Legolas is from Mirkwood and he is OVER THE MOON

Me:

This is 100% in keeping with Tolkien’s own epilogue (in which all the Gamgee kids are nearly carbon copies of their namesakes) (Except for Frodo Gamgee, who is a carbon copy of Sam)

Windmill to the Stars:

Frodo simply cannot be copied

meg is me:

Elanor is more like Frodo than her brother is

Me:

this is why she’s Frodo’s favorite in the Magnolia AU

meg is me:

Help i am becoming obsessed with autistic!Bilbo Gamgee

InvisibleWashboard:

No help, just encouragement in your obsession.

Windmill to the Stars:

Now we all have our favorite bbys XD

meg is me:

He can RECITE "there and back again" Or at least large portions of it

Bilbo jr wants to be a spider killer but Elanor hates killing things and he refuses to make his sister sad

"Dad" "Yes, lad?" "Dad i dont think I want to kill a spider" "You don't have to, son" "You did." does sam admit the spider might still be alive

Me:

no. that just makes it worse

Windmill to the Stars:

Bilbo gets to kill spiders once Elanor marries and leaves Bag End

chaosandwhatnot:

The days before her wedding, he would constantly look at the spiders with narrowed evil eyes and tell them that it is only a matter of time

meg is me:

Becomes a Ghostbuster

Spiderbuster

InvisibleWashboard is @invisiblewashboard, Writing Valkyrie is @writingvalkyrie, Windmill to the Stars is @windmilltothestars, chaosandwhatnot is @grondds-and-roses, and meg is me does not have tumblr :-3

[linnoya-writes]

Katara’s sacrifices for Kataang

What’s really, really messed up about this relationship is that Katara worked so hard and probably kept so many deep feelings from Aang so as to not cause confrontation and have him physically or mentally “run away” from her-- something he was known for doing in ATLA if he ever heard something he didn’t like or was pressured into doing something he didn’t agree with.

And so Katara builds this habit of gently approaching Aang with her issues, not wanting to upset him.  She uses that “healer” voice, and doesn’t protest whatever Aang decides; instead, she supports it.  

She complies with everything Aang wants as a coping mechanism to never give Aang a reason to disappear and leave her.  And this becomes grossly more apparent once they go from being friends to being in a serious relationship.

She forfeits most of her Watertribe culture to prioritize Aang’s Airbending culture once they have children.  She doesn’t fight with Aang about not having a close bond with Bumi or Kya just because their not air-benders, and she doesn’t fight with Aang about the fact that the Air Temples don’t know Kya or Bumi exist.

And this is how the relationship keeps working, between them.  

Aang sees Katara as being a completely-devoted, dutiful wife and mother to his children, only doing things like healing and practicing social justice or whatever if it doesn’t interrupt his agenda.  

It’s every young boy’s fantasy come to life: having that older pretty girl you always had a crush on not only be with you, but completely tailor her life’s purpose and whole identity around yours.

In reality, Katara is hiding so much of herself in order to make that relationship work... internally dealing with the abandonment issues from her father, the trauma of losing her mother and let’s not forget her life-long idolization of the Avatar... that she does whatever it takes to keep Aang close to her.  

Be it not ever disagreeing with him.

Be it not wanting to leave his sight for a single moment.

Be it dating him because she already knows he wants them together (and not give herself the time to process how she truly feels about him).

Be it marrying him, and having the world’s eyes suddenly turn to her -- not as Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, but as the Avatar’s wife.  The woman solely responsible for bringing air-benders back through her uterus.

Be it forfeiting things about her culture, because it doesn’t work with Aang’s.

Be it raising Bumi and Kya practically on her own in a newly-constructed Air Temple Island, far away from her homeland, not questioning Aang on why the other AirTemples don’t know about Bumi or Kya.

And still. 

Still... as it’s implied in LOK... Aang ends up leaving her, constantly. 

Aang ends up traveling the world to visit the other Air Temples, eventually taking their son Tenzin with him.  And while Katara doesn’t protest it, and has learned to hide her emotions extremely well... we can imagine she would feel absolutely devastated by Aang doing this.

Hadn’t she done everything right to try and prevent that from happening? Giving up her argumentative, fiery side so as to not confront Aang and make him uncomfortable?  Forfeiting her water-tribe culture, so as to not have it clash with the airbending way of life?  Even raising her children far away from the WaterTribes, so as to honor Aang’s legacy and culture?

In the end, none of that effort made a difference, and Aang was totally oblivious.  

Aang always got what he desired because he believed Katara was coincidentally on the same page with him in everything.  He didn’t see the rows of mountains this girl was moving just to go along with everything he wanted.  

Aang lived his life believing Katara was his literal dream-girl, a woman tailor-made exactly for his wants, needs, feelings, desires.

Katara has to live with this sense of constant abandonment from Aang as a partner, husband, father to their children... and not say anything about it, because it’s now too little too late.  She married into this loneliness, despite believing that bending her entire identity and purpose would keep Aang close.

It’s not until Aang passes away that Katara is finally able to return to her roots in the Southern Water Tribe to find some peace, and her children, having grown up far away from that culture and already grown accustomed to that divided family unit... don’t seem to check in on Katara too often.

Katara lives the rest of her life alone.  Having lived most of her life for Aang, anyway, it’s more comfortable for her to be distant from the world as a recluse-- quite different from the life she once wanted for herself.  

This amazing warrior woman finishes her life in isolation, in the same way she had lived it before she met Aang, not realizing she’d been capable of doing incredible things for the world in spite of him, not because of him.

The real tragedy here is that Katara never got to be with someone who truly understood her.  She kept those rough spots and that confrontational side hidden in order to make a relationship with Aang work.

She, of course, still honors her late husband’s legacy and mourns Aang after his death... and there is a part of her that truly learned to love him.

But ultimately, Katara never got to experience that kind of love in return.  The kind where two people could see each other for who they were, and see their relationship clearly, honestly, rather than blindly just go along with it.  

You know?  The kind of love that’s real.  That sacrifices.  

Katara never got to experience real love...

...because Aang never had to compromise in that relationship, did he?

He always got what he wanted.

[minorisato]

wavering, a flashback, before my eyes!

transformers, original work / NA / wc: 997 / warnings: NA / notes: experiment on that guy lets go

“You’re in shockingly good condition,” Perceptor nods. “It’s rare to see human-done repairs to Cybertronians turn out so… clean.”

Betamax nods. “Yes, my sister did a very good job repairing me. I suspect I wouldn’t be here today if not for her.”

Perceptor makes a note on his datapad. “No, I suppose not. You’re quite lucky she possessed the level of skill required to repair you.”

As the two talk, Brainstorm, at the opposite end of the room, reads the patterns going off in Betamax’s processor. “See, this is very fascinating,” he announces, gesturing to somewhere low on the screen. “You can see him forgetting things in real time. Any memory file from more than seven years ago seems to have…” he waves a servo. “About a 73% chance of being deleted. The chance gets higher, the more time passes, but it doesn’t seem to ever reach 100%.”

Perceptor nods again, tapping more notes into his datapad, glancing up for only a second. “How old is the oldest memory?” He asks, making his way over to his lab partner.

“Oldest memory is from about 13 years ago, but the file itself is only a few seconds long.” He points to a different screen. “See, every 42 minutes or so, his processor randomly decides whether or not to delete it. That happens with all memories over seven years old– that one, in specific, has just been getting really lucky.” He shifts, pointing somewhere else, now. “See, there–”

Then, suddenly, the screen goes dark, and the readings stop coming in. The scientists snap around to see Betamax, holding onto the cable that had previously been attached to his helm. He simply wrenched it out.

“I just remembered,” he explains, frantic, “I agreed to meet up with the others at Swerve’s almost twenty minutes ago.” He practically throws the cable to floor, making his way out as fast as he can. “I’m so sorry, I won’t be able to stay for the rest of the tests. Maybe tomorrow.”

Both scientists stare at the doorway in shock as Betamax speeds out, and it’s only after he’s already gone that Brainstorm manages to grasp himself, attempting to chase after him. “Betamax, wait!” 

Perceptor resets his optics. “Does he know,” he asks, though he isn’t asking Brainstorm, necessarily. “He knows that just yanking cables out is bad for you, right.”

Brainstorm invents, exvents, and shrugs. “If he doesn’t, he’s gonna figure it out really quickly.”

~~~~

Betamax is acting weirder than usual. It does not take a genius to notice this, which makes Psyber question why no one else has picked up on it.

He’s joking around like he usually does, with their little group they’ve accumulated, and that’s all well and good. What is distinctly not well and good is that every now and then, he’ll throw out something completely unrelated to the conversation, and act like it’s the most reasonable response he could come up with. His helm would jerk, or he would twist in a strange way, and if it was only once or twice that’d be fine, but it’s happening consistently enough that it’s surpassed strange into worrying.

After Betamax brings up Earth mammals for the third time, Psyber decides that hy’s had enough, grabbing the tape player by the arm and dragging him out of the bar.

“Where are we going?!” Betamax asks, as he’s pulled through the ship’s halls.

“You,” Psyber starts, “are going to talk to Ratchet, because you are being stupid and crazy and I am worried about you.”

Betamax scoffs. “I don’t need to talk to Ratchet. I don’t even know the purpose of beehives.”

Psyber groans. “That’s why you’re going to talk to Ratchet! ‘Cause you keep saying weird nonsensical bullshit like that!” Hy huffs. “I know you have memory problems, but you aren’t stupid, c’mon.”

When they finally do reach the medbay, Ratchet takes one look at the tape player and groans. “I promise he’s fine,” the CMO says, before they’re even fully in the door.

Behind hys visor, Psyber glares at him, shoving Betamax towards the medic. “I promise he is not fine because I know what fine looks like for him, and it’s not this!” Hy folds hys arms. “He’s saying things completely unrelated to any conversation out of nowhere, and he keeps twitching and moving in weird ways, and like, normally he isn’t this bad. He doesn’t do that. Make him stop it.”

Ratchet sighs, turning to Betamax. “Did you hit your processor or something?”

“Can you take this seriously?!”

“You,” he points at Psyber, “hush. Betamax, did you do anything out of the ordinary today? Something that might impact your processor, in any way?”

It takes him a second, but Betamax does nod. “Perceptor and Brainstorm were running some tests on my memory files, and such. They had inserted a cable into the back of my helm, in order to connect to my processor.”

Ratchet nods. “And were there any complications, or anything? Nothing going wrong, Brainstorm didn’t install anything?” As Ratchet spoke, Betamax shook his helm. “They unplugged you properly?”

At that, the tape player paused. “Properly?”

Psyber grimaced. “Beta…”

Ratchet rubbed his helm. “When you disconnect a cable from someone’s ports, there’s a safe way to do it to ensure no damage is done to their internals. In this case, to make sure no damage was done to your processor.” He looks down at Betamax. “They unplugged you properly, right?”

Betamax glances down at the floor. “I unplugged myself, actually.”

“And I’m assuming you just yanked the cable out.”

Betamax feels himself flushing a bit. “Yes, sir.”

Ratchet sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That explains it.” He turns to Psyber. “He’s fine, his processor is likely still just jumbled from the cable being improperly removed. Give him a few hours and he’ll be fine.”

Psyber huffs. “Thank you for your wisdom, oh wise old-timey doctor.”

Said doctor scoffs, turning away from the pair. “Get out.”

[acourtofthought]

Am I the only one who didn't like that scene at all? It's because Feyre used Lucien's kindness and put him in a position where Tamlin could hurt him. She knows that Lucien is a victim of Tamlin's abuse and has experienced abused even before Tamlin, yet it was a scene that we were suppose to think "YAAASS GIRL"

Remember in acomaf (or acowar idk) when Feyre went to her room, she felt such a powerful force coming from Tamlin that could've KILLED a human and Lucien was in that room with him? Did Feyre just forget about that?

Sjm writes scenes that are suppose to be female empowerment but just aren't. That scene from Acosf of Nesta going off on Tamlin? I don't even like Tamlin but that entire scene felt like Sjm just wanted us to fangirl over a "badass" Nesta. ESPECIALLY when she mentioned things that didn't even happen in the previous books (= Tamlin didn't ask Nesta first to go with him nor did he even look at her in acotar so wtf is Sjm on about?! What was the goal??). I thought we moved on from Tamlin and him being more self aware of what he's done after acofs but apperantly Sjm just brings him in so the girls can have a punching bag and show off how badass they are. She does the same thing with the Illyrians and I bet my ass she'll have some Illyrians insult Bryce and Bryce will go all girlboss and the fandom be like "YAAAS QUEEN".

Yikes.

I'm with you. It was only 15 or so pages prior to that when Lucien told Feyre he had to perform the Rite with Ianthe and Feyre acknowledges that lines had been badly blurred for him. Yet she turns around knowing that and still uses him in a somewhat suggestively sexual manner in order to make Tamlin mad. Not that Lucien probably thought it was sexual however Feyre purposely staged it so it did look questionable to others. Then knowing that Tamlin has a temper and knowing how bad things were when she was gone, knowing that he has lashed out at Lucien before, yet she still didn't care what her scheme would do to Lucien? I know her only goal was to bury the Spring Court but.....I do find it ironic that Feyre was questioning Lucien's loyalty to her and their friendship later in the series when it's pretty evident Feyre wasn't all that concerned about what would happen to Lucien. And the difference is, Lucien was really between a rock and a hard place when it came to Feyre and Tamlin, where you could tell he was torn on how to handle things, whereas Feyre made the decisions she did for revenge and it didn't seem like she cared all that much or felt all that guilty over using him as a pawn. I still like Feyre however the line where Lucien tells her that she was a better friend to him than he was to her makes my insides shrivel up a bit because it's so untrue. Every decision he had to make was a difficult one. Regardless of how Tamlin acted in the months after UTM, Lucien had spent centuries feeling like he owed Tamlin loyalty for giving him a home, loyalty to Tamlin for being his friend when his family wanted nothing to do with him. It's a little odd that anyone would expect him to bend over backwards for a female he'd only known for about a year when it conflicted with what was best for the Court and a friend who was also his High Lord. Not to mention Lucien suddenly found himself on the end of Tamlin's threats and abuse when he did disagree. The decision Feyre made to use Lucien was for selfish reasons only, she could have come up with a scheme that didn't further put strain on Lucien's relationship with Tamlin and come with risk to his own safety.

[slice-of-magenta]

Scott shouldn't be the one person at fault in s5

Theo is at the core of what happened between the two.

But by the impressions he gave, that tricked both teens and adults, Theo was really put together and was suddenly there at every turn when Scott was getting weaker in s5. Theo was the closest when he needed support and communication. Theo was there when scott was dealing with his asthma. Scott had told him it's return and how he felt weak lately. Theo was there helping him, stiles and Deaton up in the clinic when they got paralyzed by Tracy. He was giving his aid 'unconditionally,' constantly demonstrating his unwavering support... By being there for twisted purposes. And parts of fandom will like to overlook how much he destroyed Scott and stiles, and rather mostly, not forgive Scott for what's been done to their relationship instead?

Scott gets blamed for believing Theo over stiles. From observation, Scott doesn't always assume the worse, he does his own research too, and that's what I really admire about Scott. But when he's blindsided that one time? His trust is claimed as weakness. And I don't see it that way. But it was taken advantage of. Theo literally had a backstory of how he got bitten that resembled way too close to Scott's experience. Either way, his trust in most people, giving them a chance, this is really one of the things that makes Scott strong because while he's asking for help and making allies (deucalion & derek & chris), he's making apparently werewolf history by urging for choice in the matter. I'm not saying he's going around trusting everyone. He doesn't do that, as shown with Gerard and Rafael. And he's still pretty young to be having to build something from a broken foundation. He's doing it when people don't trust each other. He has to be strong, and available to help. He's a freaking beacon of light.

Scott couldn't prepare to be betrayed by Theo. He's not dumb for not seeing it. He's pretty smart (but not when he's being gradually poisoned and broken away from a support system - which mostly has to do with being apart of his own pack).

Stiles tried but he didn't have full evidence over Theo or his real intentions. He did get 'theo evil' part right - but he didn't see it coming when Theo forbid him from seeing Scott. When Theo did betray stiles right there and then. Theo broke them further. And I bet, stiles did believe him for at least a second before it. He had started communicating with him about the wrench and what happened at the library with Donovan. That requires some quality of trust, especially when he hadn't told Scott yet. He gave info to someone he was trying to expose.

For some fair reason - Theo was hearing stuff from both sides. They were both feeding him blackmail. This isn't new info. They both contributed, and unintentionally, let Theo steer them into hurting each other.

Idk who's right or wrong in this situation- to me Scott and stiles are in between the two. I don't think it really matters through time to pick which one must be completely blamed. everything was so mixed up and we, the audience, knew about Theo beforehand. Scott didn't know what to do either. Stiles didn't know what to do.

I don't blame scott for trusting Theo. That doesn't make him a bad friend. He was so conflicted receiving info about stiles. He confronted him that same day, not much time to process whether it holds true or not. Scott is practically vulnerable at this point. Let's not forget. he was weak. Confused with why his asthma had returned. Everyone is growing distant. Every problem is happening simultaneously. And it's all on his shoulders. And he's breaking down and growing a little emotionally drained. (and when ppl get drained, they MAY get apathetic no matter how kind of a person they are. It's the telling sign of wanting their own needs met. And he's not gonna have a break.) He couldn't even stay and put up with one thing at a time because he needs to go inside and address Hayden. He's falling apart at the seams and it doesn't help to receive news about his best friend thru Theo.

But. he checks in with stiles, and that's important. He didn't believe Theo over stiles. (Possibly in his great disbelief.) Even when he was possibly drowning from theos confession, he wanted to still hear it from stiles himself. he would take stiles' word for it -- and yet. stiles indirectly confirms it when he not only pauses and recognizes the wrench in his hand, but also when he does not deny it. They're both talking about Donovan, the only difference is the reason behind it, and stiles leaves it out. Scott doesn't understand anything anymore. stiles confirms something that is actually screwed up info. They BOTH don't know it. Is Scott the one who should really be at fault? Was he the bad friend?

Scott is in no condition and stiles had been high strung from paranoia to have a proper conversation. And when someone is near burn out or under continuous, huge amount of stress without cease, like he is, how is he supposed to think rationally and have a full conversation? Scott can't help but associate Theo's story as true. He did not believe Theo over stiles. He believed them both - and he didn't know what to do with it. Which we know from watching, had been miscommunication.

And we see, Scott didn't 'kick stiles out of the pack' like many fanon so vividly wants to imagine. Even when stiles did something Scott is completely against normally! Their lack of communication was double sided. Scott's reluctance (but later urgency) to seek further closure, and stiles' determination to skip pass it, disconnects them.

and a bonus, Scott still gets to the hospital with that bleeding wound on his chest! He goes to the hospital wounded to check on stiles and his dad -placing his emotional and physical state as a lower priority in order to be there for his friend. Scott is that other emergency contact, after all. He showed up a little late, but he showed up regardless. He's not at all a bad friend. And he's not gonna appear out of thin air to prevent everything. That is not his job, even when Scott believes it is.

[amethystina]

One of the key aspects of your gorgeous story is the path of self-forgiveness. We observe how difficult it is to go through a tragedy of loosing beloved one from Ga On's perspective. What about Yo Han? Has he forgiven himself for not saving Isaac? Does he still have nightmares? Does his father's shadow still pressure on him?

Love you ♥️

I guess this is what I get for refusing to write Yo Han's POV? xD

Jokes aside, I can understand if you're curious. The fic doesn't really focus on these issues since it's Ga On's POV and it would only be brought up if Yo Han chose to speak about it. And, right now, he has no reason to. But they were important themes in the drama and I'm not addressing them at the moment. And I honestly can't promise they'll ever be addressed with the same level of detail we see Ga On's recovery since, well — it's not Yo Han's POV.

But, to answer your questions:

Has he forgiven himself for not saving Isaac?

Not entirely. I think the vengeance helped — because Yo Han is the kind of person where it WOULD actually help — but, as is often the case, it doesn't fix everything, not even for him. There will always be a certain amount of survivor's guilt.

BUT I think he's more ready to move on now and, since he's not constantly thinking about getting revenge, he'll be able to let it go more and more. Especially once he finds a new purpose. He IS a little adrift at the moment, to be honest — as one tends to be after what you turned into your life's purpose is suddenly over — but focusing on Elijah and Ga On helps.

This is very much a time of healing for Yo Han, where he chooses to direct the majority of his attention to the people he loves because, well, he kind of realised he fucked up in that regard. He wanted to avenge Elijah's parents but ended up treating her pretty poorly as a result. Not his best moment.

So he's trying to find a new purpose and, in the meantime, he's dedicating himself to getting better at communicating and taking care of Elijah and Ga On. It's new but quite exciting for him — and something he desperately needs, if you ask me. He's discovering that he can actually be very kind and caring — it's not even particularly difficult. He just needs a little more practice, that's all.

So he's doing better, yes, but it's not entirely gone.

___

Does he still have nightmares?

Yes. Same here: I don't think they'll ever truly go away, but they have decreased in frequency. The fact that he's focusing on other things — like his shameless flirting, being a stand-in househusband, his audition for the position as Ga On's sugar daddy etc. — means the trauma isn't at the forefront anymore. But the nightmares do return every now and then, yes, since that's what nightmares do.

Especially since he now has NEW nightmare material. Ga On isn't the only one having nightmares about that night when Ga On tried to kill him, if I put it like that. They're different in their angle, of course, but Yo Han has nightmares too. For a while there, I'm pretty sure those nightmares even overpowered the ones from the church fire, simply because they were newer and a lot more raw.

I mean, we all know this line, right?

"But you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

Yo Han has definitely had nightmares where the answer is:

"No, I won't."

and

"Why would I?"

and, not to forget,

"You actually fell for that?"

And just imagine how much worse that last one got once Yo Han admitted he's in love with Ga On.

You're welcome ;)

___

Does his father's shadow still pressure on him?

Yes, though I'd say that, too, has lessened. Quite a lot, actually. Now, I can't say for sure how Yo Han handles his trauma, but it feels like he got started on dealing with it during the drama and he's had over half a year to keep working on it. So while the scars will never heal entirely, I think he's more at ease with that whole thing.

Just speaking about it out loud, getting validation, and being told that, yeah, that shit you experienced is terrible, honestly does wonders. It can reframe your entire grasp on your trauma and I think that, for Yo Han, this whole thing went from: "I was punished as a child for being unwanted and a monster" to: "no, hang on, my father was just straight-up an abusive asshole and I didn't deserve that."

Which is extra important since I think that, whether Yo Han meant for it to or not, his two main traumas probably bled together a little in his mind as the years progressed (at least in his darkest moments). That somehow their father was pre-emptively punishing Yo Han for what he would do to Isaac later (i.e. fail to save him). Because, despite being incredibly intelligent and insightful, not even Yo Han is immune to that horrible habit of blaming yourself for the abuse you've been submitted to.

BUT, thanks to being so intelligent and insightful, I think he'd have an easier time breaking out of that mindset as soon as he gets a reason — which he did during the drama.

And you can bet he's been picking that and himself apart for the past months and reevaluated how he viewed what happened (with the help of some relevant books, of course). That's not to say he can heal his own childhood trauma by the power of thought, but if there's ONE person who can get pretty damn close, it's Kang Yo Han.

All that said, he's no doubt having a bit of a dip now that he's back at the house where it all happened. Trauma be like that. Which is one of the reasons why he's so excited to see Elijah renovate it. Partly because it always seems to have been her house in his mind anyway, but also because he hopes that'll rip out some of the bad memories as well.

So he's working on it. And, to be honest, I think this is the trauma he'll move on from first. Yo Han is too efficient and pragmatic not to realise that, nah, this was just his father being an asshole — he's not to blame. There will still be pain, bad memories, scars, and quite a lot of justified anger against his father, but he can see it for what it is and leave it at that.

And why waste energy on an asshole anyway?

___

So yeah. Yo Han is working on it, at his own pace and in his own way. And, as said, I'm not sure if it'll ever be addressed in the same way that Ga On's trauma is, partly due to the POV thing, but also because my take is that Yo Han is just more internal when it comes to dealing with stuff like this. I don't think he feels that strong of an urge to talk about it? Especially once he realises he's actually dealing with it pretty well on his own.

And it wouldn't be for the same reason that Ga On has a hard time talking about his problems — not wanting to feel like a burden, not wanting to cause a scene etc. — but more because he just doesn't NEED to. It's already being taken care of and talking about it won't really make a difference. Again: pragmatic.

And no, not in a self-sacrificing "no one cares about my problems" or "no one can help me" way. Just a "not everyone has to talk about their issues over and over in order to feel better" way.

I think Yo Han is very self-sufficient once you've put him on the right path, is what I'm saying. He found that path with the help of others (and some relevant books) and now he'll keep working on it until he's satisfied.

So it probably won't be dealt with in detail since Yo Han is doing most of the work internally, on his own.

I hope that’s somewhat of a satisfying answer! Love you too ♥️

[redphienix]

It's been a week.

I just want to be dead.

I've lost all direction in my life, every goal dashed, every hope destroyed.

I have no purpose anymore.

Every little thing I put aside has no purpose anymore.

Every plan is both impossible and dead.

I'm miserable.

I keep thinking I've removed all reminders and I find more; some of which I can't justify removing and instead have to grow comfortable with living alongside.

I hate myself.

I hate my ignorance.

I hate that I lived happily, fulfilled, looking forward to the future, all while my fucking horrible insecurities tore it apart for her.

I hate that I know I could have fixed it. But I didn't know it was a problem. And the reason I didn't know is because I just assumed everything in my favor, it's not a big deal surely, all the while she felt like she couldn't communicate the problem because I made communicating difficult subjects into a hurtful event for both of us.

I'm insecure and feel judged by literally everyone.

I judge myself constantly.

I feel like a failure constantly.

So discussions on very important things that a couple should be capable of discussing suddenly becomes a flustered rage as I feel under attack.

I fucking can't believe myself.

I had the best person in the world. I had her love. I was in love. I still am.

And I lost it. I made her feel like she couldn't talk to me, trapped I'd assume, and uncertain all because I put my insecurities above her.

I am a coward.

And now I am a lonely coward.

Desperate to have that sense of belonging back.

And oh so certain I don't deserve it.

Not just with her. Ever again.

I know I can do better.

I was. Slowly. Too slowly. A fucking disgrace. I'd stop myself, force myself to take things slower, to stop assuming and hear her, to confront the discussion properly, but only after my mouth runs. Only after I convince myself she's judging me. Only after I make a mockery of the decade we spent together with all the trust I have given her suddenly waived so I could be a shit head who feels insulted, replaced, and worse.

I found someone who made me the happiest I have ever been, and did so for over ten years.

I fucking hate myself for failing her.

I fucking hate myself for loving so hard and never accomplishing the one goal our relationship had set, to be there.

I fucking suck.

And I know beating myself up does no good, but what "good" do I even want? What am I missing out on? I don't want someone else. I don't want her back. I don't deserve either.

I fucked this up. I just want to stop hurting.

To be alone and not in pain.

That'd be great.

I hope she doesn't feel half as hurt as I do. Not feeling at fault might help her in that, she isn't at fault so I hope she doesn't assume she is.

I hope she can either happily and healthily have my memory co-exist in her life, or can easily forget me. I don't want to be a shameful dreaded memory.

I don't want this to hurt her. I hope it isn't. I hope she's happy.

I hope I stop crying.

[god-whispers]

sep 19

the cornfield

there was once a spider who lived in a cornfield.  she was a big spider, and she had spun a beautiful web between the corn stalks.  she got fat eating all the bugs that would get caught in her web.  she liked this home and planned to stay there for the rest of her life.

one day, the spider caught a little bug in her web, and just as the spider was about to eat him, the bug said, "if you let me go i will tell you something important that will save your life."  the spider paused for a moment and listened because she was amused.

"you better get out of this cornfield," the little bug said.  "the harvest is coming!"  the spider smiled and said, "what is this harvest you are talking about?  i think you are just telling me a story."  but the little bug said, "oh no, it is true.  the owner of this field is coming to harvest it soon.  all the stalks will be knocked down, and the corn will be gathered up.  you will be killed by the giant machines if you stay here."

the spider said, "i don't believe in harvests and giant machines that knock down corn stalks.  how can you prove this?"  the little bug continued, "just look at the corn.  see how it is planted in rows?  it proves this field was created by an intelligent designer."  the spider laughed and mockingly said, "this field just grew and has nothing to do with a creator.  corn always grows that way."

the bug went on to explain, "oh no.  this field belongs to the owner who planted it, and the harvest is coming soon."  the spider grinned and said to the little bug, "i don't believe you," and then the spider ate the little bug for lunch.

a few days later, the spider was laughing about the story the little bug had told her.  she thought to herself, "a harvest!  what a silly idea.  i have lived here all of my life, and nothing has ever disturbed me.  i have been here since these stalks were just a foot off the ground, and i'll be here for the rest of my life, because nothing is ever going to change in this field.  life is good, and i have it made."

the next day was a beautiful sunny day in the cornfield.  the sky above was clear, and there was no wind at all.  that afternoon, as the spider was about to take a nap, she noticed some thick dusty clouds moving toward her.  she could hear the roar of a great engine, and she said to herself, "i wonder what that could be?" ------ sounds like a "suddenly" to me.  yes, there is a harvest coming and believers everywhere sense an urgency in their spirit.  that's how it is for those who are born-again and listening to the Holy Spirit.  "He will guide you into all truth; for He will not speak on His own authority, but whatever He hears He will speak; and He will tell you things to come." john 16:13  He is a unique (but equal) uncreated part of the Godhead - often called the comforter for good reason.  He birthed the Word from spirit to flesh and now births us from flesh to spirit.

the foolish have said there is no God.  forget about the cornfield.  look up to the stars and the wonder of the universe - being explored only now and discovering it is still expanding because, God said.  is that beyond your imagination?  consider then the beauty and wonders of the world; the grand canton, niagra falls, the constancy of things reproducing after itself.

we all have free will.  if you choose to mock and ignore me and continue feeding your own desires, just know - denying the truth can never change it.  it is love that warns ... the love of God.  "to everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heave." eccl 3:1  harvest time approaches.  do what you must to get right with your creator.

[singlelifeofamarriedmama]

The Mom Trap - Part 1

Grief is an inevitable evil of life. It's one thing everyone will experience at one point or another and for an array of reasons. Grief can be experienced in the loss of a person, the emotional loss of a relationship, and even the loss of a former season of life. My story ties the first and last together.

You see, I became a mother fairly young by today's standards. I got pregnant with my daughter at 23 and had her just before I turned 24. It was the greatest joy to bring a life into the world knowing she was ours, that we would get to raise her and be there for every moment as she grew. There was a lot of excitement early on. Don't get me wrong, every day brings something new, but the initial excitement of motherhood does ware off after a while and most moms, especially stay-at-home moms like myself are left with this sudden huge life change. All moms at one point had a life beyond being a mom. We were a friend, a daughter, a sister, a wife. We were able to go out with friends, and have last minute date nights with our spouse. Then one day, this little life changes all of that and moms are told that their identity is now in being a mother. We wake up every morning when they do; we are the chef, the maid, the chauffeur, the laundry attendant, the therapist etc. Suddenly our days are filled with taking care of others and leaving our care by the wayside to make sure each person has what they need. The ugly truth of this is...most moms don't love it. It's not that we don't take pride in our homes and in taking care of those we love, but losing one's identity in those things means forgetting sometimes why we were created in the first place.

Our identity isn't in being a mom, but a follower of Jesus. Our identity is in him who created us in his image. He never intended for our days to be filled with so much stress and chaos that we can't think straight.

Here's where I will really make some people mad. Jesus never said we can't grieve over who we once were. Does he tell us to take joy in our work? Absolutely! But he doesn't insist on us losing ourselves in it. Being a mom in some ways does require us to put down who we were to walk in a new season of life with our little ones. But like the subtle fade of summer into fall, we will lost ourselves in the new season if we aren't careful.

Let's not forget that we are simultaneously setting an example for our children that they will take into life with them. If we don't find our God given purpose and live that our whilst being a mother, how can we expect our children to live our theirs well when as they grow and mature? If all they see is the anger and frustration boiling over because every last minute of every day is spent with little to no boundaries between mother and child, they will one day allow themselves to fall into the pit of grief over the loss of themselves, whether in a relationship, or in parenthood themselves. The last thing we want as parents is for our children to re live the same traumas we had.

So take a second, or a minute, or as long as you need, to acknowledge that what you're feeling is so very real. Acknowledge that it's okay to feel this way, all the while seeking your God-given purpose so you can come out a better mom, a better spouse, a better friend, and most importantly, a better you.



[finger-lakes-ghostbusters]

The two of them didn't even fully get transported back---it was more that they were suddenly and violently yanked back into the main chamber that Eva had come from, almost as if they'd been teleported (which, knowing that Zygna bitch and all of her tricks, they probably had been). The rest of the team raced to Eva's side as she reappeared, Matthew letting out an uncharacteristically shrill "EVA" as he raced to check her over. "Are you hurt? You found Damien? Is he hurt? Taya could probably look him over when all of this is said and done-"

"Jesus, Matt, give us some breathing room," Eva wheezed, holding one hand up to quiet her worried friend before running a hand through her curls to plaster them back in place. "He's.....okay. I guess. I found him. I'm alright. We're all here now, ready for whatever this reptile bitch has to throw at us."

"But Damien, hun. How are you here?" Taya interrupted, coming up alongside them and casting a worried eye over both Eva and Damien. "Last we checked, you were turning into a sea monster. And there was a lot more blood involved with that than I would have liked."

"Long story short, she made my body into a catalyst. A shell. It was me, but I was never really the one holding the reins. Not entirely, at least." Brushing the remnants of the seaweed that had held him captive for so long from his shoulders, Damien stepped forward, sweeping his eyes over the chamber. "Right. Where is she, then. If she called us back here, she can't be far--"

"PERCEPTIVE AS ALWAYS, MY DEAR LITTLE DAMIEN."

The booming voice rang out as Zygna materialized in front of them--or rather, a version of her materialized, looking like her true form but smaller, glowing around the edges as her lips curled back over formidable teeth.

"SO. YOU SUDDENLY THINK OF YOURSELF AS WORTH SAVING. WORTH CARING ABOUT. YOU LITTLE FOOL. DID YOU FORGET THAT I AM THE ONE WHO GAVE YOUR LIFE SOME IOTA OF PURPOSE? WHO SHOWED YOU YOUR TRUE NATURE? SHOWED YOU THAT THERE WAS NO FUTURE FOR YOU OTHER THAN BEING MY SERVANT UNTIL YOUR DYING DAYS? I GAVE YOU A ROLE TO PLAY IN ALL OF THIS. I WAS WILLING TO OFFER YOU MERCY. AND YOU DECIDE TO PAY HEED TO THE EMPTY WORDS OF A CHILD INSTEAD. I EXPECTED MORE FROM YOU."

Damien was clearly trying to direct a defiant glare in Zygna's direction, at that moment--but it was wavering around the edges as his eyes filled up with tears again, and it only lasted a moment until he ducked his head again, simply unable or unwilling to stare the one that had tormented him for so long directly in the eyes as his voice came out through clenched teeth. "You....you promised me that no one would get hurt. That was the only reason I took your estúpido deal in the first place. You said that if I did what I was told, none of them would get hurt."

"AND YOU BELIEVED ME? DEAR, DARLING DAMIEN. YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN TO TAKE A GOD AT THEIR WORD. HUMANS ARE A DISEASE UPON THIS WORLD. WHEN DEALING WITH A DISEASE, DO YOU LEAVE BEHIND TRACES OF IT TO TRY AND GAIN A FOOTHOLD AGAIN? NO. YOU ERADICATE EVERY INCH OF IT UNTIL THERE IS NOTHING LEFT. AND NOW THAT YOU HAVE DISAPPOINTED ME SO VERY THOROUGHLY, I WILL TAKE IMMENSE JOY IN DESTROYING YOU ALONG WITH THE OTHERS. UNLESS YOU WANT TO COWER AND HIDE AND BEG FOR MERCY. GIVEN THAT THAT SEEMS TO BE THE ONLY THING YOU ARE USEFUL FOR."

Eva's hands clenched into angry fists at her side as Damien bowed his head even further, almost seeming cowed and tiny in the face of Zygna's poisonous words. How long had he been beaten down like this, to the point where any trace of fight went out of him like dust being blown away in the wind the minute that she spoke to him? How long had Zygna been whispering lies into his head, making him believe that he wasn't worth saving? Wasn't worth even existing as his own person? Gathering her nerve, she went to step forward again--

Only to gape widely as Brianna of all people stepped forward, her small frame vibrating with nervous energy even as she squared her shoulders and raised herself up on her tiptoes to look at the sea serpent directly in the eyes. "Y-you're wrong. Humans aren't a disease. If you were really a god, you'd know that. You'd know that we all h-have good and bad sides to us. Humans create so many beautiful things, and....and no two of them have the exact same experience! And you'll never understand that. You just want to....to kick people while they're down. To automatically see the worst in them. We're not scared of you. You're just a big....bully!"

Once confident, Brianna visibly quailed as Zygna laughed, the noise sounding like two boulders tumbling down from a mountain to crash into each other as she craned her massive neck down towards the girl.

"SO. THE COWARD OF THE GROUP PRESUMES THAT SHE CAN PREACH TO ME. THE LIABILITY. THE ONE EVERYONE IS SIMPLY PRETENDING TO TOLERATE. YOU MAY PUT ON A BRAVE FACE, MY DEAR, BUT I CAN SEE THE FEAR BEHIND YOUR GAZE. I CAN SMELL IT. AND I WILL DELIGHT IN FEASTING UPON IT. I WILL TEAR YOU LIMB FROM LIMB SO THAT YOU CAN LET YOUR TEAM DOWN ONE. LAST. TI-"

Eva gaped even further as Brianna straightened, an uncharacteristically determined and fiery look in her gaze--and then promptly leaned back to deliver a solid right hook to Zygna's toothy maw, words coming out in a frenzied screech.

"HOW'S THAT FOR BEING A COWARD?"

"AGHHHHHH. YOU INSOLENT BRAT-"

"Yeah! M-maybe I am! But I'm not going to run anymore! Not when my team needs me! And not when I want to prove someone wrong about the way they see people! And maybe that was really violent and I'm probably going to regret it later, but-" Brianna was stopped by Eva coming up and laying a hand on her shoulder, spinning around to regard the older girl with wide eyes. "Ohmigosh please don't be mad at me I know that was--"

"Bri. I am so FUCKING proud of you," Eva proclaimed, her eyes shimmering strangely in the darkness. "Way to stick it to this ugly-ass bitch."

"Are you. Are you actually crying, or-"

"Tell anyone that I cried over you and I'll sneak worms into your food, Bri, I mean it. But I'm proud of you for not running. Knew you had it in you." As Brianna stared blankly at her, clearly trying to discern the meaning behind the words, Eva turned back to the projection of Zygna, whipping her proton gun off of its holster and holding it steady. "But I think we're all done listening to you, Zygna, all things considered. Now, it's time to show you what humans are really capable of. We're gonna kick your ass and have fun doing it." As four of the other members stepped up beside her, she looked around for Damien, clearly still hanging back and looking uncomfortably like a trapped animal. "Damien. You said you had a plan. Now's the time to put it into action, bossman. Time to show this bitch that she doesn't have power over you anymore."

"I...." Damien hesitated, swallowing thickly as he looked from Eva and the group to Zygna and back again. "I can't. The last time I was in charge of a team, I....I got them all killed. How do you know the same thing won't happen again?"

"One, you're not fucking possessed this time. And two, we're all a lot stronger together than we are apart. You know that, Damien, we've been over this. Stop letting all the shitty things that happened in your past define you, okay? What matters is what's happening now. What matters is that you get a second chance now. Rocket gave you that chance. Craig and Marvin gave you that chance. I'm giving you that chance. So please, for the love of god, don't squander it now. Help us beat this bitch."

"DON'T LISTEN TO HER. YOU BELONG TO ME. YOU WILL ALWAYS BELONG TO ME. YOU WILL NEVER BE ANYTHING MORE THAN A FAILURE."

For several long, heart-stopping moments, Damien seemingly stood frozen in indecision, making Eva wonder if perhaps he was going to go back to Zygna's side out of sheer desperation and conditioning--and then his expression was hardening with resolve as he stepped up alongside the team, his voice stronger than Eva had heard it in months. "Well, my lady, I think there's only one way to test that theory. Heat 'em up."

Six different pairs of proton guns primed in perfect unison.

"You all followed the original team. We're gonna take some inspiration from them. You know what to do."

It was the first time that Eva had seen Zygna visibly look nervous, in the entire time that they had interacted with her. Those startlingly blue eyes now widened as the sea serpent glanced towards Damien, voice suddenly much shriller.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING. STOP THAT AT ONCE. STOP-"

"FIRE AT WILL."

Six different proton streams shot out in the same beat to ensnare Zygna, even as she roared and shrieked and whipped her coils against the confines of her own mind--

And then they crossed.

[honeydazai]

hot things the Arcane characters do

feat.: Viktor, Jayce Talis, Silco, Vander, Vi, Jinx, Sevika, Ekko

warnings: suggestive, some nsfw mentions

requested?: yes!

For some reason, VIKTOR simply loves to tease you. An amused smirk curls his lips upwards as you scoff, slightly embarrassed, after a mocking comment he made about you. He enjoys responding to you with rhetorical questions and taunts you with sentences like “Oh? What are you going to do about it, dear?” and “Ah, is that so? Prove it then”. You can't help but blush every single time.

While Viktor himself is quite intense, his gaze is even more so. It doesn't matter if you're sat directly in front of him or if you're across the room — the second your eyes meet, you're unable to look away. The heated eye contact has you squirming in your seat, a whimper nearly escaping your lips.

What gets you wet almost immediately, however, is the way he often rolls his sleeves up for practical reasons. The sight has you rubbing your thighs together subconsciously and you can only hope that Viktor doesn't notice the way you're staring.

“Correct me if I'm mistaken, dear, but I was under the impression that openly staring at someone was considered impolite. Ah, look at you, blushing this adorably — hm? Whatever do you mean, I should stop teasing you? Make me then.”

JAYCE doesn't see any harm in expressing affection through physical contact, which is why it has become a habit of him to suddenly hug you from behind, strong arms wrapping around your body as his large frame towers over yours. His head is either resting on yours or, if he bends down a little and therefore unintentionally draws more attention to your height difference, laying on your shoulder, his warm breath against your neck making you tremble.

The sight of him loosening his tie with one hand has you staring unashamedly — well, or perhaps you're a little embarrassed, but there's no reason for him to look this good while doing it, with his head tilted back and his eyes closed.

Another thing that makes Jayce unfairly attractive is that he insists on carrying heavy bags and pushing doors open for you. The gestures are caring and gentlemanly in the best way — and that you get to watch his muscles flex whenever he takes a heavy box out of your hands is an added bonus.

“Oh, let me take that for you, babe. Don't want you hurting yourself, do we now? Oh, by the way, you look really pretty today.”

You're not sure why, but the way SILCO sits in his office chair, all calculated calmness, and talks to his subordinates in a stern tone has you squeezing your thighs together more often than once. The way some of his goons are shaking in their boots, despite him not lifting a finger to threaten them, is just so effortlessly dominant that you're fighting the urge to drop to your knees right then and there.

Him smoking those cigars is a similar story — he simply looks unfairly handsome, pretty even, whenever he tilts his head back to breath out circles of smoke.

Each time his voice drops a few octaves lower, you can't help but tremble visibly, because, god, that tone just does something to you. Silco notices, because of course he does, and his condescending smirk has you whimpering.

“Are you quite alright there, dear? I tend to forget you're not used to the way I occasionally need to talk to my subordinates yet. Ah—, even though it doesn't seem like you minded it particularly much. Don't tell me this actually got you wet.”

VANDER isn't trying to be hot when he wraps an arm around your waist while you're walking next to him, it simply feels natural for him to pull you close with his hand resting loosely on your hip, occasionally squeezing it a little.

Similarly, it's not on purpose that he randomly decides to praise you with a warm smile, even if it's only for something insignificant you've done. The words send a wave of arousal down your spine nonetheless.

If you're ever in any kind of dangerous situation, Vander is quick to shield your body with his own — which isn't difficult, given how much bigger he is than you. It shouldn't turn you on, it really shouldn't, but it's just so obvious how much he cares about you that your chest suddenly feels too tight.

“Ah, darl, I noticed you already cleaned up for me. Thank you, appreciate it. You're always such a good girl for me, can't believe I got this lucky.”

Whether it's done subconsciously or on purpose, VI often flexes her arms a little, giving you a golden opportunity to see just how good her muscles look in this lighting. The sight has your cheeks flushing red, and if Vi notices why you're embarrassed, she only chuckles.

Ever one to tease, she likes to gently tilt your chin up to meet her gaze with her fingers, a smirk on her lips as you swallow visibly. The tension is thick enough to cut through, though Vi backs away a moment later, quietly laughing to herself.

Another thing she likes to do is wipe the sweat off her face with the shirt she's wearing, especially after she just finished working out, and the glimpse you get of her abs is simply heavenly.

“Hey, doll, ya should gawk at me a little less obviously. I was worried you're gonna start drooling.”

JINX often has some residue of paint or soot on her face and, once you tell her just that, she uses the back of her hand to wipe it off, which usually only results in it smudging more. You're unsure why, but the sight of her looking all messy, perhaps with bright colours on random spots of her hands and face, has you absolutely enamoured with her, your cheeks feeling hot. She often raises an eyebrow when you point the paint out, and a second later, you're covered in the same colours.

Since she enjoys messing with you, she likes to randomly appear behind you and whisper into your ear — no matter if it's a teasing pet name or something truly dirty, you flinch and tremble every time. Her warm breath against your ear is entirely enough to do that.

After sitting bent over a new invention for hours, Jinx likes to stretch excessively, her arms raised above her head and back bent until you're able to see her hip bones peak out from beneath her trousers. You can't help it as not entirely pure thoughts pop up in your head.

“Hey, sugar, wanna make out? Oops, did I scare you? Didn't mean to. Or, well, maybe I did. Whatever. Come on, entertain me, I'm growing bored over here.”

SEVIKA's whole aura has you willing to drop to your knees in an instant; the way she carries herself is simply oozing confidence and dominance. You immediately feel safe when you're with her because, honestly, who'd willingly dare to go up against Sevika?

She also makes you sit on her lap a lot, even in public, and, god, the action has your cheeks flushing red, especially when the guys she's currently playing cards against stare at you with curiosity. One of Sevika's hands rests on your hip, occasionally moving down to squeeze your upper thigh, and you can only hope no one notices the way you're grinding your hips against hers.

Whenever Sevika pins you to a wall, her face close to yours and a teasing smirk on her lips, your knees suddenly feel a lot weaker than a moment ago.

“Damn, you're blushing. What, are you embarrassed? Why? 'cause of these guys? They're only staring because they too want a piece of you.”

EKKO likes to sit with his arms crossed behind his head, and you're honestly not sure if he knows just how much the position shows his toned biceps off, but by the way your eyes are basically glued to his arms, he has to be aware of what he's doing.

He's pretty protective of you, given how he couldn't possibly bear to lose you, and your cheeks flush a little every time he steps in front of you and defends you against a stranger, no matter if the conflict is a verbal or a physical one.

Another thing that leaves you gasping for breath whenever he does is the way he often pushes his hair back with one hand, his eyes closing, lashes fluttering against his cheeks, and his head tilted back to reveal the expanse of his throat. It's so effortlessly attractive that you can't help but gawk at him.

“Hey, babe, what's happening here? This guy bothering you? I'll take care of it, don't worry. Go ahead already, yeah? I'll catch up to you.”

notes: viktor with rolled up sleeves viktor with rolled up sleeves i repeat viktor with ro

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