chocolatecrisps-ao3

[benthelastskywalker]

In the almost seven years since I’ve been around the Reylo fandom on tumblr, you know how many times I’ve seen a Reylo say antis should kill themselves/send them death threats? Exactly 1. You know how many times I’ve seen antis tell Reylos to kill themselves/send them death threats? I have honestly lost count because it happens all the time. I’m not denying that there are probably toxic Reylos out there, but in my experience toxic antis far outnumber the toxic Reylos.

[wispstalk]

23, 24, 25

23. ship you've unwillingly come around to - uhh i can't remember who the original artist is bc i don't follow them but someone was drawing elenwen/tullius ship art where elenwen is super tall and tullius is a submissive manlet and honestly? love that for him. i'm not like incorporating it into my own headcanons but i liked the art

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse - any observation of bigotry is a fucking minefield because there is a certain type of person who trips over themselves to deny that a fantasy setting could have any real-world analogues.

25. common fandom complaint you're sick of hearing - there seems to be this expectation that you have to vocally condemn every problematique ideological position in the elder scrolls. like, if you don't write your OC smashing the unjust system or whatever you're failing The Cause. i'm not entirely unsympathetic to that position because I understand it as an outlet for feelings of disenfranchisement, but it shows a certain contempt for the reader. i do bend my writing around my politics (to the extent that it serves the plot) and i talk plenty of shit on here but i don't think my readers are stupid. i think people can understand my point without me pausing the story to deliver a whole anti-imperialist manifesto.

[thatwitchrevan]

(dark kermit) it's 2:20am dump scarier meetra au

This is some shit I wrote last month along the line of 'what if Meetra said fuck free will and messed with everyone's heads a little. or a lot.' scary Meetra rights.

Visas stared blankly at her, her thoughts rolling. Her mental voice was somewhere in between Nihilus' deep gravely drone of the void and Meetra's own warm and deep tones, with a calm in the storm and gentle permanance that was all Visas. She held the image of her old master in her mind alongside her new one, appreciating the difference.

-

Meetra took Visas' small, cold hands in hers and gently rubbed some warmth back into them.

"Thank you, Meetra."

Meetra kissed her palm. "He won't bother you anymore. Kreia won't, either."

Visas did not ask what Meetra would do with her. She would not mind whatever it was.

She was curious, though. "I've never understood it. That power you have over others."

Meetra folded Visas' fingers softly into fists. "Do you want to learn how?"

Kreia was going to be the hardest and so Meetra went to her the moment she knew she could handle it. The elder Jedi watched her warily through the Force. She knew the Exile came for a fight, if not one with weapons.

Her eyes and her tone suggested to Visas that she should say yes. "Yes."

-

"Arren."

Kreia refused to cower. "I have told you not to use that name."

Meetra sighed. "Fine. Pretend all you want. But the rest has to change."

Kreia's lip curled. "Switching it up, are we? The student becomes the teacher?"

"Cut the shit," Meetra said. "You're going to stop messing with my crew. Stay out of their heads. Leave Atton alone. Leave Mical alone. You won't hurt any of them ever again."

Kreia visibly struggled to keep her scowl even. "You think to command me, command them, and condemn me for doing so in the same breath? Hypocrite."

Meetra just crossed her arms, unworried - she could tell that despite Arren's bravado, the order had hit home. "And Kreia? You're not to speak to me unless I ask you something."

If the whole charade had irritated her, this made Kreia truly angry, her rage and hurt bubbling under the surface. "Meetra."

Meetra shook her head. "What'd I say?"

Kreia spoke through clenched teeth, furious enough to strangle Meetra, but though the Exile had said nothing forbidding it something more powerful held her back. "I'm not to speak unless you ask."

"I don't know what to do with Atton anymore."

Meetra's shoulders relaxed. "Good."

-

Meetra was flying the ship, musing aloud to Mical as he stood beside her. Their usual pilot was in the medbay after another mission throwing himself on the line until he collapsed. He was spoiling to get his ass kicked even more than usual and Meetra was going sick with it and him and everything about him.

Mical leaned on the pilot's chair and sighed. "We don't have to do anything with him," he said miserably. "You could just let him go."

Meetra frowned out the viewport at the blur of hyperspace. "He's endangering himself and all of you. He's never honest with me. And he refuses to go."

"It's because of Kreia," Mical insisted. His hand grazed her shoulder, holding on gently to her robes. "She was messing with his head. He only wants to help."

Atton seemed to be waiting for her to get to him. She had been thinking about it for what felt like ages, what she'd ask of him, what would be best. He stiffened every time he saw her now.

Meetra sighed. She wished she was like him, all optimism and seeing the good in people. It tore him apart but it was good of him. "Mical, I hope you never change."

-

When she eventually came to him, she stared at him, and he stared back at her, quiet.

"You need to be more careful."

Atton crossed his arms. "Is that right."

Meetra hadn't wanted to get frustrated, but he seemed to make it inevitable. "I don't want you to die."

"You cannot," Atton said, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to compell her instead, "order me to live."

Maybe she couldn't. Yet. "I am asking you to be more careful."

Atton narrowed his eyes, but he seemed to relax just a fraction. "Asking, huh?"

"And I'm telling you -" he tensed again, but she kept going, deliberate - "not to lie to me again."

If she thought the notion of avoiding self-sacrifice would bother him, she had underestimated the impact of this. Atton looked genuinely frightened, and his anger was no longer calmly packed away behind his scowl. "Meetra. That's insane."

"You can leave. She's not making you stay anymore, and neither will I. But if you're here you're not going to lie to me."

Atton looked at her like he didn't quite know who he was talking too anymore. "You can't do this. This is... come on, Meetra. This is ridiculous. You've had us killing for you and risking our lives for you, but this... can't you see how messed up this is?"

"And it's not messed up for you to tell me you're okay when you're not so you can go and get yourself nearly killed, to tell me you've got my back when you're hiding things from me? What am I supposed to do, Atton?"

Atton huffed. "And what about all the times you've lied to me, huh? Does that not matter? Only you're allowed to hide things?"

Meetra didn't respond.

His hands were shaking. "You can't control me."

Meetra sighed. "Atton. I could almost do it without trying. I'm sorry."

She hated how he was looking at her - without violence, without any desire for retribution: just pain and anger with nowhere to go. "And if I don't listen? What if I figure it out, huh? What are you gonna do to me if I don't follow orders?"

Meetra shook her head. "Nothing. I won't hurt you. But I think I'll know. I can tell now."

Atton opened his mouth, shut it again. He stepped forward, his hand held out, desperate. "You are hurting me. Okay? This is the worst thing you could do. I'm asking you to stop it."

Meetra stared at him. She wasn't unmoved - it ached to see him in this much pain. But he'd been in pain the whole time: whether she was causing it, or Kreia, or he was doing it to himself. At least this way she would know. She took his hand. "I am sorry. I won't stop you leaving. But I can't take it back."

Meetra found Bao-Dur in the engine room. "Hey."

His eyes burned. He pulled his hand away.

-

His eyes were heavy as he looked at her, searching. "General. You doing alright?"

Meetra tried to shrug. "I'm doing my best."

Bao-Dur frowned. "It's just you seem more tired than usual. Spread thin. Everyone is."

Meetra frowned. "Are they okay?"

Bao-Dur shook his head. "Don't think so. Mandalore asked me if I trusted you. Seems twitchy out of nowhere."

"Do you trust me?"

The answer was automatic, clean. "Always."

Meetra nodded. "I appreciate you looking out for me." She thought of leaving it at that. He did so much for her already. But she was scared - her crew was in pain and danger was coming for them again. She looked up. "Bao-Dur-"

Bao-Dur grabbed her wrist, gently but firmly. "Don't." His voice was soft. Worse than reproach, even though he didn't mean any. "Just ask like you always do. Whatever it is, I'll do it."

Meetra looked at him. She didn't know how to turn it off, now that she started. But she knew that with him she only needed to ask. If this was how he wanted it she had to try. "Please... just take care of them."

Meetra fell heavily to her knees in front of Kreia and grabbed her by the shoulders. "You are not dying."

She could tell the difference now, and Bao-Dur's nod was immediate but his eyes were clear. "Of course."

-

Kreia was silent. If she had a card to play it wasn't showing now. She had tried everything to break Meetra's will, but she could neither compell her nor threaten her friends, and any appeal she was able to make fell on deaf ears.

Only Atton felt sorry for her, and only because he knew the same pain - their beloved Exile had become what they hated.

Meetra left Kreia to stew in the center of the chamber. Atton had turned to run as soon as he saw her stand, was almost out of the room, but she put s stop to that. "Atton, come back."

He returned to stand beside her. It didn't even look as though he was resisting, his expression and his thoughts the only indication that he would, if he had any control left, be running like hell. "You said you wouldn't. You said you wouldn't make me stay."

"I'm not. I just need your help with one last thing. I need you to help me kill Sion."

"I hate you," he said.

That should've hurt. Meetra marveled that it didn't, in more than the most distant way. "I'll let you go after this. I'll protect you."

Atton sighed. "You could've just killed me. That, I'd forgive in a second."

"I don't need you to forgive me. I need just need you all safe."

[the-firebird69]

If so announcements to make and one of them is this idiot is heating up his stupid ships again it's not that many left how's your fleet and they have about 7 billion more luck ships and he is only about 1.5 billion left or 2 million really he has about half of the remaining fleet so bja is just sitting there hoping he leaves and usually it's the case now but that's what's going on it's going to be out of there soon but right now there's one billion there heating up and it's very bad for our son's wife and she has gone through it a few times but her husband will do a lot better for these idiots out of the way and instead of a bunch of times this guy smokes and doesn't do s*** right and really it's proof of her he says something of the attacks by him so I get it she says he was attacking me in space and he's a huge a****** about it too it says all sorts of dumb things on the radio we never Back down we never learned show them how stupid we are. And they end up going after the fleet and they take it from him and prove that he's just a useless jerk that's what it is too the guy is a moron and he sits in there bothering my husband and thinks he gets stuff and people are going to kill him today and they did yesterday and they killed him to be ready I ordered them. It says it has an effect and that they know if we're under a lot of durress make a lot of noise and so I appreciative since it happens to him besides the amount of deflecting is reduced and we tell him it's we're saying we really is up there and right now it's up there pretty good and they find a whole bunch of idiots around him

I'm glad for my husband to him being here to help me and he's here and I like his ideas and we're going to use them but right now I need some help

Hera

We have help on the way several battle groups right now

Savage oppress

We're helping and we have battle groups in place and we have other and it is going to work right now

Thor Freya

We're moving into position and we're not going to allow them by and we mean it too these people are sick and we do not conduct ourselves in this manner and I want him out of there this guy next door sick and spoiled and he's an idiot the story is just keep on pointing towards that that he's useless and each and every story The condemn some more and he keeps on talking about them he's out there with a stick in the woods so the a****** wanted to get him back and call them over to his house on a dirt bike and went out there with a stick followed him and he's really a VIP inventor and he had no idea no he had no purpose for doing it in stow except to hold VGA and threatened him for our stuff and for everybody else's stuff and to attack Max and war with him gone we need him gone

Mac daddy

We did hear that's what he was doing and we checked and it is and he's a dead man cuz he's a traitor to us all and we're putting together a package to send to people like mac and Ben and jet li and others and they say they have that but we will corroborate it and a lot of this code is ours might be his and its probably not true but there's a lot of stuff you need to see it it's worse than us we are having the same cause.... Her friend here says oh we have the same cars that's what we're talking about that's a relief and we're talking about the stuff because we're trying to accommodate this assholes behavior this is Trump and we do understand it

Macs

Olympus

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Dangerous Love (Pt. 01 of 13)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman) X Harley Quinn's sister!Reader

Word count: 3K

Summary: You're Harley Quinn's sister, Havoc, one of the many villain's of Gotham. But you've been caught, and has been tortured constantly for an year in Belle Reve. But when your think your life can't be anything else than the nightmare you find yourself into, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, takes you in for a project. He has a program to rehabilitate villains, and you're his lab rat. But soon enough confusing feelings start getting in the way. You know falling for Bruce is stupid. But can you keep your heart under control?

Next part (02) ->

{Justice League - DC Masterlist}

×

Opportunity:

Your mind can't help but wonder what will happen next. Where they're taking you. In your state, half-dead, you feel they pushing you on a hospital stretcher. It's a sick pleasure of theirs, to numb you, yet allow you to understand what's going on around you. It's supposed to be part of their torture, as if they could scare you. They can't. The pain they inflict don't reach you anymore, you're beyond that. It's hard to breathe like there's a pressure on your chest, and you feel the fog that threatens to overcome your mind.

“I can't believe we're doing this.” A distracted, dull voice says. They're hovering over you, you're sure, a smile on their faces. These people aren't better than you, you concluded. They're all villains too, only backed up by their position and by the civilians who would never condemn them for hurting people like you.

“I don't like it either, but the orders came from above.”

It must be nasty if they don't like it. You wish you could move, you wish you could blow the fog away and get up. Then you'd crush their skulls on this stretcher and run. But you're motionless, completely vulnerable to your personal monsters. They enjoy seeing you like this, all of you actually, often saying they're job is to make you pay for everything you did. And many of the villains locked up in here paid for it a hundred times over.

“Don't worry, Mark. She will be back with us in no time. A slut like this wouldn't recognize a good opportunity like this even if fell from the sky.”

Opportunity. What kind of opportunity? You've been waiting a year for an opportunity to flee this place. Belle Reve is hell on Earth, the only prison you can't seem to overcome.

“Put the whore in the ship and fly this damn girl away.”

A fist connects to your stomach, and you feel your body moving, jerking up and falling back to the bed. The pain, hot and rough, spreads through your ribs. It happens three times over, and the blows come from different directions. You know why they like to do this when you're in this state. Because they know that, if you were awake, they'd regret it. They know you'd beat them so bad they'd swallow their pride and apologize. You're burning up, trying to make your body respond to the commands, but it's useless.

“Put her to sleep now. Higher her dose.”

You feel a needle in your neck, and slowly, you sink, to the back of your mind. Bracing yourself for whatever comes next, you decided to enjoy as the world ceases to exist, at least for a while.

•

The journey back to consciousness is like climbing an invisible ladder. The first thing you realize is that you can breathe without any restraint, which is always a good sign. Before opening your eyes, you make sure you can move your body. You start with your feet, then the legs, torso... Then your hands... Your hands are tied together, lied on your stomach. But you seem to be functional. Big mistake. Finally, you open your eyes, finding a white ceiling above. No place in Belle Reve has a white ceiling like this. Checking the surroundings, you find yourself completely alone in a bedroom. A normal bedroom, you suppose. The bed you're in is a king-sized bed. Two nightstands, a wardrobe, a dresser, two armchairs. Two windows on the left side, a door on the wall before you and another on the right. One of them must a bathroom. Bathrooms have mirrors and boxes, made of glass, which you can break and use as a weapon.

You wonder what kind of game is this. What new kind of torture they came up with. Make you believe you're somewhere better, safe, and then attack you all over again? They can't believe you'd fall for that. Not you. Sitting up, your eyes are focused on the windows. That man said that is was an opportunity. And you can use any kind of opportunity. Ignoring the handcuffs around your wrists, you get up in a single motion, using the nightstand to support your weight when the whole world spins around. Regaining your balance, you go to the windows, pushing the curtains away. And you find bars. Just a minor inconvenience.

Outside, what you see isn't the familiar desolation of Belle Rave surroundings. Despite the darkness, you can see a garden, grass, and high walls. On the corner, almost out of sight, you see tables and a pool. What kind of place is this?

A noise on the door makes you turn on your heels, full alert. There's nothing you can use to defend yourself, so you'll have to count on your bare hands. Your eyes fall on the handcuffs and a desperate feeling builds up. You start pulling, violently, trying to set free. You feel as the metal starts ripping the skin, reopening old wounds. Twisting your wrists, you try to at least separate your hands, but the metal doesn't surrender.

The door is open and you're forced to look up, hands ready to put up a fight. Your whole body is burning as if anticipating the war you're about to start.

“Miss (Y/N) Quinzel.” The man starts, not seeming to be surprised at all. He's tall, muscular, wearing a suit and tie. “Please, sit.”

“You bought me, didn't you?” It hits you all of a sudden, and a smile comes to your lips. They sold you away like an animal, how original. A good way to get rid of you, you must admit, but unlike they think, you can recognize an opportunity. Allowing you out of Belle Reve was a huge mistake.

“No, I didn't buy you.” The man casually walks over one of the armchairs, gesturing at the other one after taking a seat.

“It doesn't matter.” You stand there, eyes alert, watching his every move. You're also aware of the door, left unlocked.

“I'm here to explain what you're doing here. Where you are and why.” You're not listening, you're thinking. If you move through the bed, you can get to the door before he even knows what's happening. You're small, which makes you fast. If you jump from the bed to the ground in your run, you'll land right by the door. Once you're out, all you gotta do is keep running. He won't be able to reach you. Muscles are heavy, and this man has many. He's slow.

“Do you think I care?” You ask, waiting for his eyes to leave you, just for a second. You just need a second.

“No, you don't.” Lowering your hands a little bit, you notice how his eyes fall on it. On the blood flowing out.

That's when you move. You step on the bed, following your plan strictly. You jump to the floor, opening the door and fleeing. It doesn't matter where you're going, you just need to keep moving. You hear his footsteps behind you, and it brings a smile to your lips. It's been a while since you had a chance to do something like this. The adrenaline, the rush is as good as you remember. Stumbling downstairs, your eyes find a hall, and that's where you go. The wind messes with your hair, fresh as freedom. You find a door, which is locked, but it doesn't slow you down, you soon start moving again. You reach a kitchen, huge, and your sharp eyes find a knife and you move to grab it. The next thing you notice is a window, with no bars. The man's footsteps fill your ears as you climb up the sink, opening the window and sliding through it, hitting the ground hard on the other side.

Being outside is unbelievable. The fresh wind, the dark sky above. When we the last time you've been outside? You can't remember. Move, you tell yourself. Holding the knife tight with both your hands, you start running again, your barefoot feet hurting on the rocks. You soon see the gates. If you cross it, you're free. You'll be back in the streets, home. Just one last set of bars to overcome. Once you reach it, you drop the knife, holding onto the cold, black metal bars. Your head hurts, and you're a little dizzy, but that's nothing you can't deal with.

Taking a deep breath and biting back a smile, you look forward, to the other side, and start climbing. You don't even process what you're doing. It doesn't matter how tall, how hard will be the fall, you'll do this.

Pulling yourself up, a laugh escapes your lips. They thought they could keep you imprisoned forever. They don't know you, they don't know what you're capable of.

A strong arm encircles your waist and you're pulled back. All air leaves your lungs, but you immediately recognize the enemy. You shouldn't have dropped the knife. The man throws you over his shoulder, and you're quick to attack his back. Using hands and elbows, you punch him, again and again, but he doesn't seem to care. His grip on your thighs grows stronger as your assault on his back gets worse. He's carrying you back to the house, and when he crosses the front door, you kick him hard on the stomach. He flinches a little, which makes you smile and kick him once again, harder this time. The man loses his balance, and you take the chance to push him aside and fall to the floor.

There's no time to take in the pain, you have to move. You're pulled back into his grip, his hand grabbing your ankle. You kick him, not sure where, but a groan leaves his mouth. You must admit you admire his strength. Your guards use to be knocked out very easily.

“Stop it.” He commands, and you smile through the fight. He pulls you up again, over the shoulder. As he tries to climb up the stairs, you push, kick and punch, and he falls a few times, but manages to get you back into the room.

“Put me the hell down!” You yell, sliding down and punching his face.

“Damn it.” He angrily mutters, holding both your wrists. The man uses his weight to push you to the armchair, using his body to keep you there. You fight and scream, hurting him any way you can.

You then feel ropes around you, tight against your chest and stomach. When he stands up again, a bleeding lip, you can't move, it doesn't matter how hard you try. The man touches his lip before going away, closing the door violently.

“I'm sending her back to Belle Reve.” He tells someone, saying something else you can't hear.

‘A slut like this wouldn't recognize a good opportunity like this even if fell from the sky.’ That man's voice comes back to your mind, filled with disgust. You can't let him be right. You can't let this opportunity pass. If you're sent back, you'll prove to him right. No. You have to think before acting, you need to stay here. You almost succeed today. In one year at Belle Reve, you never got anywhere close. Here, you have a chance.

Two hours later, the man is back. He doesn't seem to be angry, just a little mad. Annoyed. You keep your mouth shut, watching as he takes a deep breath and sits on the armchair set in front of you.

“Are you done fighting? And yelling?” He asks, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

“Are you sending me back to Belle Reve?” It's the only thing you care about.

“No. Not yet.”

“Who are you?” You're struggling with the want to try to set free, to break the handcuffs, to rip the ropes, but you have to control yourself.

“I'm Bruce Wayne. The Batman.”

“You're going to kill me.” You burst out, a particularly loud laugh escaping your lips and bouncing through the walls. The only reason why Batman would tell you his secret identity is because he plans to kill you. “How much did they pay you? Or how much did you pay them?” You manage to say when you finally stop laughing.

“I'm not planning to kill you. I want to rehabilitate you.”

This makes you laugh even more, ignoring how serious he is. He gotta be kidding. “That's a good joke, I must say.”

“Are you done?”

“Are you done, Bruce Wayne?” You stop laughing, looking at him, dead serious. “Because as much as I enjoy a good joke, I need to know why the hell am I here.”

“It's not a joke. I want to prove a point. I want to show people that villains, as they call those like you, can still be brought back to society. Fully recovered. Not everyone, but some might still have a chance.” Bruce's eyes fall on your wrists. The blood is dry, staining the skin.

“You picked the wrong villain, Bruce Wayne. I assure you I don't belong to the group that can be... Rehabilitated.”

“I'm the one who decides that, not you.” Bruce get up to his feet, coming to stand before you, then kneeling. He takes your hands, moving the handcuffs a little to reveal the wounded skin underneath. “I can remove these and clean the injury if you promise not to try anything.”

“I could kick you right in the head,” you tell him, a smirk on your face. “So damn hard you'd pass out and I'd be free to go.”

“If you could do that, you wouldn't announce it.” He stands up again. “I'll be right back.”

You watch as Bruce leaves the room, locking the door. Is it true? Does Batman really want to rehabilitate a villain? You already bumped into the Dark Knight a few times, but managed to run. Now, you're his prisoner. This can't be worse than Belle Reve though, you hope. He comes back minutes later, with a box. Laying it on the bed, you watch his every move. It's something like a first aid kit. He really meant that when he said he would clean the lesion.

“You don't have to attend to my wounds. This is how it works: the blood is washed away in the bath, and the wound is left to heal by itself.” Speaking slow, you explain him how they do things in Belle Reve. A doctor is only called when someone tries to commit suicide. Other than that, your bodies are left to deal alone with any injury.

Bruce doesn't answer. He searches for something in the nightstand behind you, and when he comes back into your sight, he ties up your legs, ankles and knees. “Seriously? Don't you think I've-” You bite your tongue when he pulls your wrists through the handcuffs, causing a sharp pain to spread through the lacerated skin. “That was unnecessary.”

Silently, he opens the handcuffs and you suddenly feel relieved. You feel freer now, even though you're all tied up. You watch as Bruce carefully cleans the wound, wrapping a bandage around your wrists. It's curious to see someone doing such a thing. Before Belle Reve, you had to tell those who worked for you to patch you up. It was always fast, and painful because you just wanted it to be over so you could get along with your things. Then, in that hell... Not even that.

“I will leave you to rest,” Bruce says when he's done, closing the box. “There is soap on the bathroom for you, shampoo, and hair conditioner, as well as all the personal things you'll need. If you believe you need anything else, let me know.”

“Is that your plan? To just leave me here? You really think this will change who I am?”

“You don't know what my plan is.” He makes a pause, looking down at you. “I will untie you now. If you try to run, I will knock you down, and I don't care if you're a girl.”

“Woman.” You correct him, smiling. “And I'm not scared of you, I don't care if you're huge.”

Bruce stands there, thinking. Wondering if you'll run again. But you won't. If you do, he will definitely throw you back in that hole. Taking a deep breath, Bruce kneels down again, untying your legs. He then moves to stand behind you. and the ropes fall loose. You feel his eyes on you, paying attention, but you don't move.

“I'll come back to see you tomorrow.” That said, he leaves.

It takes a while until you finally move, getting up from the chair. Everything you need is Bruce to put down his guard, to trust you just a little bit. An opening, it's everything you need.

Ignoring the ropes laying around your feet, you move to the bathroom. As soon as you open the door, you remember the showers in Belle Reve. How you hugged your knees on the cold concrete floor, under the assault of the high-pressure water as someone held the hose. This is different. Walking around, you notice the small pile of clothes on the sink. A white shirt, light gray sweatpants, and underwear. You notice the white towels, the hairdryer... Taking your clothes off, you step into the box, opening the warm water and letting it soak your body.

You let it all go for a moment, enjoying what a normal shower feels like. You don't need to hide your naked body, the water isn't too cold or too hot, it's perfect, gentle on your skin. You take your time, washing Belle Reve off. You wash your hair too, smiling to smell the strawberry scent from the hair conditioner. Your lilac hair has brown roots for the entire year you spent in prison.

The bathroom is filled with smoke when you step out of the box, drying yourself and putting the clothes on. Staring at the mirror, you wonder when was the last time you saw your face. You look the same, and your not sure if that's good or bad. After drying your hair, you find a brush and starts detangling it.

Going back to bed, you imagine how good it might be to have a life like this every day. Clean clothes, soap, warm water. But that's not your life. Your life is on the streets, underground, beneath an old mall long destroyed. There lies your riches, your money, your things. That's where you belong, where you need to go back to. And you will. Batman won't stop you.

×

@redwolf-7 @glitterypinkkitty @mybabyboytony

[septembersghost]

Not an attack on your other anon at all but to give you reassurance, if anything you've emphasised your love for Dean and how your heart bleeds for him that I felt sadder for you than I did for myself and I was VERY sad, and I remember you saying you were so stricken and fucking angry that it was easier to think about Sam at times. I don't get why fandom has divided into factions where you have to hate a character to love another, like "dean crit*cal" people do, it's sick. I know some Dean girls don't like Sam but I don't see anti posts about him like I do about Dean. they give a whole category to hating the most loving character for reasons that don't even hold up. Anti posts don't understand them at all. Sam would HATE that. as gross as it is to Dean, Sam would hate it most! Did they never hear Sam when he spoke about how important his brother was to him? he never had my attention as much honestly but I've been trying to rewatch early episodes to get the stain of season 15 from my mind, and I find having seen and read your thoughts on Sam has helped me a lot to understand and enjoy him more. Your thoughts on Dean have changed how I see him as well but I did love him already. I get why other deangirls are mad and hurt but I have enjoyed your warmth and care for Sam as much as the depth of your love for Dean. I'm not a shipper so a lot of fandom is not fun for me right now, and it feels like the warring between ships or with anti meta has made people completely lose sight of who Dean was. You definitely haven't. And Dean loved Sam more than anything, so I don't think it hurts him to love his brother, wouldn't he want you to? It's fine if people don't love one or the other of them but it makes the story a lot less interesting. I used to criticise Sam a lot and watching without doing that as much takes my mind off hurt over the ending. fandom is preoccupied condemning them for flaws as if they would be as interesting as perfect people? They're screwed up, it's the bits that make them good that matter. People can be selfish assholes and people can be angry and people can have trauma and it doesn't make them bad. It's a story of two boys trying their best in terrible situations to help others and save each other. Your blog has given comfort and clarity to me and made me appreciate them. I'm probably not the only one. I know how much you love him and how heartbroken you've been but I'm happy you've been on here.

I think of them everytime I listen to Taylor now because of your blog too. Does she know she wrote "your midas touch on the Chevy door, November flush and your flannel cure" about Dean? There is NO ONE else that could be about. She may not have meant it to be she gave that to us. x

i believe, and have for a very long time, that there are intensely personal, emotional, and psychological reasons for why any given person who watches spn will attach most to one of the winchesters (at least initially), and i don't think there's anything wrong with that, it's very subjective and unique to each viewer. i know why i imprinted and projected onto dean, and i've mentioned before that it might not even have been the most obvious or expected reaction, but it was true and real immediately, and that love has definitely remained.

i don't have a problem with discussing them critically or examining their issues/mistakes, of which there are many, but the anti culture that has suddenly cropped up here is a different space altogether, because it's not about thoughtful analysis or fresh perspectives, it's just hateful for the sake of it. everyone is welcome here, whomever your faves are! i have followers and mutuals from various subsections of fandom and it's really nice knowing that. i've no ties to the suffocatingly negative side of fandom at all, and i don't understand what the purpose of it is, or why they want to participate in the show when they virulently dislike the characters and the bones/heart/soul of the story as much as they seem to do. i typically try to respect people's opinions and differing points of view, i don't have an issue with venting on your own blog, especially if you feel the need to channel those frustrations in a constructive way, it's the...i don't know? widespread negativity and complete devaluing of the characters and narrative that doesn't sit well with me when it comes to that aspect of fandom. and they stopped using "anti" and switched to "cr*tical" as some form of faux intellectualism when they're still willfully misinterpreting canon and established characterization. i do also think some victim shaming regarding trauma goes on, and i'm not okay with the atmosphere of that at all. i definitely hear you, the factions have become vitriolic in many ways (the uncrossable divides of the dnis don't help), and it hurts my heart that's it's come to that, pitting characters and ourselves against each other to that extreme. i don't understand it either, and it's contrary to the purpose of the story - which was transcending the gothic horror and the violence and the grief to find connection and forgiveness and love. i have my theories on why dean is the most prevalent target of it, but i don't even want to give them that much energy, so this all the commentary they'll get.

regarding the rest of this message, i'm so glad to read this and appreciate your consideration and thoughts so much! you're right, i did say that shifting my focus was easier for a while, and it's still part of the process of working through it, and it also comes from some of the very cynical commentary suggesting that sam didn't care/forgot all about dean when we saw the contrary. i'm not going to dwell on that episode (as if i haven't already asdhjsdksdj), but i hate that it left anyone any space to think that. it's untrue. it's why i've been tagging things about how sam liked being with dean and chose that willingly, how far off the edge he went when he lost him or when dean was in trouble, how he had the convictions of choices he made. i refuse to let the ending negate that. we know what he does, how he reacts, it was established in faith. both of them would always have chosen the paths they did when it came to saving one another, for better or worse. that's who they were.

unashamed deangirl that i am, it makes me really happy to know i've helped give you a better point of view on sam and that you're able to enjoy episodes even more! extending empathy whenever you can helps elevate the story in a particular way. it's not required of anyone, of course, i'd never presume to say it is. we have our individual ways of relating to the narrative, and i certainly never expect anyone to see it the way i do, or be comforted by the same aspects i am, but i hope you can continue enjoying it and find a sense of healing within it. canon gave us so much depth, in kripke era particularly - the show may not have been flawless, but it established them and all their edges and unexpected facets and contrasts so beautifully. i've been calling them "my boys" from the start because it was their story together, it was about them, the battles they fought, the people they saved, the ones they embraced and welcomed in, the power of their bond, the way they touched our hearts. i wrote that super long/unhinged post about them being Romantic heroes, but there's a reason for their complexities and their flaws that live alongside their bravery and humanity and the way they shine. they're a folktale. they live in the margins of the world and traverse its shadowed places, blazing bright and then slipping out again. they were never meant to be perfect or infallible or even unquestionably right, but they are good. they're not always good in an easy way, in a simple way, but they are. they are capable of frightening transgressions and universe-altering courage. the good and the bad of love is an inherent part of each of them, for different reasons, expressed in individual ways. it nurtured and shaped sam. it drove and defined dean.

ms. taylor may not have any idea how her music resonates with us and how easy it is to apply so much of it to characters in this story, but i love spreading that mystical connection along! you're right - WHO ELSE? who else could that be about?! we saw that midas touch on the chevy door from the very start. the flannel cure through hard, dark nights and harsh, long days, that wrapped around us and made us feel comforted and brave and safe for a little while.

and "what a shame she's f*cked in the head," my epitaph. very fitting for my unrestrained love for that fictional boy. 💘💘💘

[rainbowloliofjustice]

I obviously agree with antis being horrible because of the death threats and harrasmsne shit and hurting minors by making them escept random adults on the interest to take care of them and put their trust in random people on the internet (which is so creepy wrong on so many levels that I can't even say right now) I'm frankly just sick of this whole "anti vs. anti-antis/pro-shippers"crud now. I mean there are just so many creepy and predatory people on both "sides" of this drama it makes me sick.

(Continued) Like I know the basics of what anti-antis are for are common sense (don't kill/harass people over ships) but that's the thing. It disturbs me beyond belief people are trying to rope people into other fucked up shit for the sake of stupid fandom drama that wouldn't even be a problem witn normal, decent people. (Sorry that this ask is very vague, I'm just venting. I just wish this horrid fandom drama wasn't a thing in the first place because it's just made crap worse and hurt so many)The thing about antis is that there are communist necrophiles who are saying pedophilia, necrophilia and zoophilia are "sexualities" and equating them with homosexuality on this hellsite yet they want to focus on people shipping 18 year olds and 17 year olds together. And mean hell I don't like ships that like actually are shipping 12 year olds with adults or some crap but uh, we should be focusing on the REAL LIFE pedophilia apologists here not people with creepy or questionable ships.

I mean, ngl I feel ya. I myself don’t really care too much about the whole “anti vs anti anti/pro-shipper” thing and the main reason I do is because antis are making fandoms and internet spaces a lot more dangerous for minors by teaching and expecting them to expect random adults on the internet to care about their safety, curate their experiences for them. etc. etc. because they basically preach a bunch of shit that goes against any sort of basic internet safety. Not to mention, the call for censorship won’t just stop at “gross pedo ships” or whatever because you can’t have censorship your way and your way only. Not to mention, it doesn’t help that they’ve watered down the definition of pedophilia to include 18-year-olds dating 25-year-olds or hell even a 25-year-old dating someone who is 30 - 40 something years old. They’ve watered it down so much that it now includes adults dating other adults

But that’s a different tangent. 

And I agree, the focus should be on REAL LIFE people who try to argue that children (as in like, 6 years old) are able to consent with adults, or the garbage parents and people who support Desmond is Amazing performing for adults in Adult Only events. Like, there is so much more shit that could be productive in this mess for antis to focus on but their actual focus is questionable ships and content. 

And if the stories I’ve heard are true, the irony is that many of them ship the same or similar ship dynamics as the ones that they condemn and call other people pedophiles over. It’s just that they can be trusted to consume it safely but other people can’t be trusted to consume it safely, therefor, they have to stop other people from doing it. 

It’s basically a glorified ship war hidden under the guise of “”activism””

[mrs-emma-swan-jones]

You really think that you can compare Killian to Flynn? I understand the whole misunderstood villain who changes for the person he loves, but really, Killian is miles ahead of Flynn. He never choked Emma, turned her over to the Nazi's, kidnapped her/sent her friends to the murder hotel, or tried to strand in the 1700s? Like ship what you want, but Killian doesn't deserve to be compared to someone like Flynn. I liked him but it's obvious Lyatt was endgame from ep1. I'm sorry you couldn't see that

LOL okay…I don’t even know why I’m defending myself to a Lyatt of all people, but I’m still in a bad mood, so fine, I’ll bite…

First of all, you do realize that a lot of these very specific examples as to how Killian and Flynn are dissimilar that you’ve provided are quite exclusive to Timeless as a show, right??  Like, no Killian never turned Emma over to Nazis, because Nazis weren’t a thing on OUAT??  He also never sent her friends to the Murder Castle, because the Murder Castle wasn’t a thing on OUAT??  And he also didn’t try to strand her in the 1700s, because, surprise, HAVING THE ABILITY TO STRAND PEOPLE IN THE 1700s WASN’T A THING ON OUAT!?!?

You want to talk about some of the things Killian did do??  Killian left Emma and team princess locked in Rumple’s cell, presumably with no escape, and was going to use the compass and the wardrobe ash to go to Storybrooke and leave her behind.  Which believe it or not, is actually incredibly similar to Flynn stranding the team in the 1700s, presumably with no way back.  Also, you want to talk about physical altercations??  Killian and Emma fought at Lake Nostos, which can be comparable to the altercation between Flynn and Lucy in 1x02.  You fucking excuse the stuff Killian did when he and Emma were adversaries, but you condemn everything that happened between Flynn and Lucy when they were adversaries??  Especially considering that Lucy was straight up working for Rittenhouse all throughout season 1??  It doesn’t matter that she didn’t know, she was still working for them.  You all want to happily ignore the fact that Flynn was fighting on the right side the entire goddamn time just because his methods were questionable??  And what about Wyatt, huh?  What about all the shit he did?  All the people he killed in history??�� His body count actually exceeds Flynn’s in season 1, but it’s all fine and dandy because he was the “good guy” right?  The one who was just following orders??  Let’s just ignore that those orders were coming from Rittenhouse until season 2, right??  You’ve got some double standards my friend, if you’re willing to just overlook all of this.

You wanna go off about how much better Killian is than Flynn??  Killian has a couple centuries on Flynn in regards to the bad things he did in his life.  He was a pirate after all, and he lived for so long that it’s probably safe to assume that in that time, Killian did just as bad, if not worse than Flynn, who only had a few months to do all the bad things he did with the time machine.  And since you seem to be so fond of the finale, please explain how Flynn even doing all that in the first place isn’t Lucy’s fault?  She straight up sent him down the path he was on by giving him the journal, sending him on a murder spree that resulted in his death all so that she could secure a happily ever after for her and her friends.  You want to talked about some fucked up shit that the characters on Timeless have done, talk about that.

And really? You’re gonna tell me to “ship what I want” and then tell me I’m not allowed to draw comparisons between two incredibly similar ships/characters??  That literally reads as “have an opinion, but don’t have this particular opinion.”  Yeah, I shipped Garcy, and it was literally because of how similar they are to Captain Swan, and I loved Flynn because of how similar he was to Killian.  A man on a quest for revenge due to the death of his loved one(s) willing to do whatever it takes to stop the murderers who killed them, who then meets a strong-willed woman for whom he’s willing to give it all up?? My dude, I’m sorry that you can’t see how similar they are because honest to god, you must be blind….

Look, don’t come at me saying I didn’t see Lyatt coming, because I fucking did.  I hated it, but I wasn’t oblivious.  I knew they would force it (because yeah, it was forced af).  It was predictable and safe and boring af, and I saw what they were trying to do from episode one.  And I knew as soon as they announced the movie and who was writing it that Lyatt was going to be endgame.  I didn’t think the movie as a whole would be as disappointing as it was, but it was basically Lyatt fanfiction, so how could it not have been I suppose.  I just want to point out though that had they gotten more seasons, Garcy would have been canon, and possibly even endgame.  That’s coming straight from Shawn Ryan who co-created the damn show.  They were very interested and intrigued by Garcy and really did want to explore their relationship romantically.  He also said that the endgame of the show had never been set in stone, and that what happened was a direct result of the number of seasons they had, so for all you know, Garcy could have been endgame.  The only reason they went with Lyatt was because they were forced to end it too soon, and that’s the tea sis.  Had they gone on, Garcy and Flynn would have followed the same path as CS and Killian.  If you can’t see that, then I don’t really care, therefore I don’t understand why you seem to care so damn much about what I feel.  We have different views and opinions about fucking fiction, get over it.

Now stay out of my inbox if you’re going to try and dictate my opinions, because after the bullshit I had to put up with last night, as well as the overwhelming bullying and crap I’ve dealt with from Lyatts in general, I’m really fucking sick of this shit.