#the mind is a bitch that needs to be conquered basically

[chaaistained]

heyy so it's 🍦 anon here <333

I've been thinking, alot actually. I've tried to analyse myself and my thought processes everytime I "lost" hope on shifting.

From what I've noticed that, it's my brain basically trying to protect me from what I've been through in the past, like for example: (this is a dumb, very dumb way to show my thought process uh TT)

Me: shifting is so easy, like I literally do it every single moment, it comes to me like I'm breathing

My "brain": what the hell do you mean? Nah nah cause what the hell? What if you fail? You want to go through all that again?

Me: I won't fail. Because there's no way, I'm literally a master shifter, right?

My "brain": STOP BEING SO OPTIMISTIC YOU PIECE OF GARBAGE, YOU'RE GONNA BREAK YOUR HEART AGAIN. IT WONT WORK, IT NEVER WORKS

Me: I mean I'm scared, but that doesn't mean I'll fail. You know what, go to hell, I'm shifting.

My "brain": *does some voodoo black magic and puts the negativity in my brain because my subconscious is so used to things going wrong all the time it has saturated itself in layer and layers of garb*

So what was the results of my "musings" (I know this is stupid) I know I can shift, I know I am so powerful cause everytime I've tested my manifestations it does work (I tell myself I'll see a red car and in like the next few seconds a red car passes between all the other cars). But it's the years of negativity dragging me into the wrong path. And to shift, I know I don't need to do this but I will, I should first saturate my brain with positivity.

(Okay I'm so sorry this was so long and probably annoying to read- again the byproduct of the garbage in my head)

(first off that wasn’t a dumb way to show your thought process at all it actually made a lot of sense)

second : DARLING I NEED YOU TO metaphorically HOLD MY HANDS AND TAKE A DEEP BREATH IN AND OUT

you said it yourself — “i know i can shift, i know i am so powerful cause every time i’ve tested my manifestations it does work” — you can manifest seeing a red car in an instant?? you’re already doing it my love

now, i do agree that the negativity is dragging you down, but i believe it’s because you’re giving it that power

and i understand how difficult it can be to take that power back when your whole life has been spent in surrender to negativity and doubts and fear. you’re right, it’s a defence mechanism, a coping mechanism, a cautious way to protect yourself, because if you expect the worst and then inevitability the worst occurs, you’re not in for such a shock bcs, hey, you expected it

no matter how much it sucks, how painful it is, how much you lose, at least you expected it, right?

WRONG

wrong wrong wrong you do not need to expect the worst every time

now what i’d recommended for you is perhaps “preparing” for the worst. this doesn’t have to be literally —

now, i don’t know your situation or the past traumas that are causing this negativity (and i don’t necessarily want to know bcs it’s your personal story and experience, you don’t have to share that) so my unsolicited advice is more all rounded here :

— when the bad memories start to fester, when they make themselves known, i really need you to remember what happens AFTERWARDS, the strength that it took for you to pick yourself up, the courage to stand tall yet again

— then, as you’re recognising this strength, remind yourself that it’s been done, you’ve had your challenges, and you’ve come out of them . no matter how bruised or battered you were, it is over and you’re here now, willing to shift bcs you KNOW you deserve nothing but the best

— if there are any pressing matters in your cr that are adding to this anxiety, i highly suggest you do a little something to “take care of them” . this doesn’t mean give up on shifting and focus on your cr, but say you’ve got an assignment to do and you haven’t started, if you’ve still got time before your submission then do about 40-60% of it, do something, put your mind and your anxiety and your conscience at ease. this is specifically bcs you’ve stated that it’s hard to ignore that negativity and anxiety, so do smth no matter how small to be like “Ha! get fucked negativity, i did smth, i put some effort in, i made a difference in my cr life today”

— now this next part is important : saturating your mind does not mean ignoring what you’ve been through, it means staring your past in the face and saying “you’re the past, and i don’t intend to go back, so stay there bcs i’m never gonna be you again.” and you’re not gonna believe yourself, not at first anyway, but it comes naturally the more you do it, and personally, i always visualise or think about my dr life right afterwards — any dr you intend to shift to, think about all that you are and all that you accomplish in that reality

+ those thoughts aren’t daydreams, they aren’t delusions, they are the film reel of your life, the universe is playing out snapshots of the events you’ve lived/will live, it’s actively reminding you to see yourself in your truth, not from a place of fear

— finally, this is a habit that i’ve worked to implement and i think it could help you; remind yourself of your dr when doing cr things :

+ you’re sitting in your room studying? no you’re not, your in the hogwarts library in the corner booth, channeling the dark academia aura of one of the brightest students in the school

+ you’re waiting in line for your turn at a coffee shop? no you’re not, you’re a famous actor, wanting to feel the rush of normalcy so you chose to come to a local cafe and experience what normal people go through. it’s exhausting, but it’s smth out of the ordinary for an a-lister like you, head down and hoping no one recognises you (but ofcs they do, secret photos of the famed star will circulate the internet and that small cafe will become a hotspot for the youth just bcs of your presence there that one time)

+ you’ve got a pain of a social gathering to attend when all you wanna do is stay at home? no, you’re the detective, the investigator, you’re scoping out the place in an undercover op, you’re interacting with people with the intention of learning everything you can about them, you’re observing their reactions, their exchanges, you’re the best in the agency and you’re charisma is the perfect mask to hide the true intention of your presence. yeah, you’d rather be home right now, but the mission depends on your unique skill set, you’re needed, and so you power through

it’s like a game almost, obvs don’t let it cloud your judgment and the way you treat people you care about in this reality, but i like to think of it through the multiversal theory — there’s realities out there which follow similar events, similar timelines, and in reality A you could be studying in your room but in reality B you’re studying in the hogwarts castle library — you’re simply “channeling” those memories (for lack of a better term)

ultimately, darling, you’re negativity has been given too much power, it’s manoeuvring you with puppet strings, some sort of sick enjoyment it has.

but it’s not your fault.

bcs you’ve recognised your power, you know what you must do, you are actively challenging what has become painfully normal to you and that takes strength, so don’t wallow in the self pity of “oh i did this to myself” Stop. that doesn’t matter anymore. what matters now is how you move forward

pick up the scissors, cut those strings, and start claiming ownership of your own happiness

i literally need you to think about your negativity like it’s a perfectly dry autumn leaf just laying there on the ground taunting you and i need you to run up and crunch the life out of it under your feet

do you get me?

i have no idea if what i’ve said made sense or helped and i urge you to ask any questions that may have arisen from my advice

but i truly truly hope that you stop beating yourself up, i’m actually bandaging the wounds as we speak btw, hold still 🫂❤️‍🩹

[doshi-sukiru]

Divergent au

Yeah..so I made a new au so here we go-

Part 2!

this one I don't think I'll make a fic out of, mainly because I'm already trying to get back to my shadowpeach one (I have NOT forgotten, uni is just a bitch and for some reason I'm procrastinating too much which is scaring me but I can't stop it it's awful-)

So, this was something @/angstychilz and I discussed one day in our megop server and it was basically "what if Megatron and a few other decepticons got captured by the Quintessons while they were on the surface?"

And of course I'm in a chokehold so now you're forced to deal with this horrifying au I twisted with my knowledge of sci-fi / doctor horror.

**TW!! I might get a bit graphic with some details so please tread carefully! I don't want to scare any of you with what I have for this au, it is disturbing in some areas**

So, to start, I've considered that for now, Megatron, Soundwave, and Blitzwing would all be taken by the quintessons to be experimented on, mainly to help the quintessons understand their anatomy and to use it to their advantage in order to help conquer Cybertron (suggestions for other bots to be taken and experimented on is welcome!)

Of course, it is considered that they are different species, and in a way I believe that the quints would see cybtronian's as lesser beings (especially seeing how they managed to persuade sentinel easily with the idea of having more power in return for killing the primes and providing them with energon). This would play a big part during their experimentations, especially with Megatron because he carries a Prime's cog, that too Megatronus's, who was definitely one of their biggest enemies.

Megs and the others are kept with other mechs, some dead some alive, and they all go through terrible transformations (I'm still deciding how to ruin blitz, especially with his split personality).

I'll just summarize how Soundwave's transformation becomes bc it's really easy- he just goes from tfone sound to tfp sound (angsty's idea), since he has moveable cables similar to the quint's tentacles. He is still in control of his body and mind, and even holds conversations with Megatron to give him some sense of normality between them, but will black out whenever the quints need him to go scout on cybertron to avoid autobot patrols and seek out new victims.

Megatron's treatment I have more detail on (and why wouldn't I, he's my comfort character I need to detail his agony-). There is no anesthesia, Megatron is staying awake as they tear through his chassis and tear out the cog, forcing him to go back to his cogless form. I will also add that before he was taken, he also lost his right arm in the fight before capture, so he's dealing with two types of pain.

Through that the quints learn that mech body's can shift, so while Megs is sent to recover with the other bots they grab some poor mech and experiment with their cog, and they take their time just experimenting on how to make a cog of their own. This also includes them doing several types of dissections on a lot of mechs, pulling and twisting wires, tearing apart limbs and then forcing them to reconnect after forcing the mechs to transform. Keep in mind none of them are under anesthesia, so it's like an old victorian surgery, you're awake and watching a bunch of aliens piercing through you, dismembering you and forcing you to stay still as they go through your systems and organ parts, and even through your spark (guess how you think they learned that was what kept them alive).

Through all that, once they get some form of a twisted, functional cog that mimics an original one, they immediately do everything they did to those mechs to megatron.

By then, he's no longer filled with rage, but fear. Indescribable fear of whether or not he'd survive this. He was a miner once, and while he had his moments he was always assured by Orion he'd be fine and he'd be safe. Orion's not here anymore, and most of the time Sound isn't either, so he's stuck spiraling in fear.

Obviously he's more resistant against them, but he can't fight them anymore. At the same, his helm is forced open, leaving his core processor open for them to dig in and used what memories he has to twist him into a more submissive mech, especially his momentary regret that he got when he shot Orion, and later after dropping him to die. He's forced to endure several procedures, most that left him bleeding out or vomiting blood to the point of exhaustion, and waking up in a tank only to be pulled and put through it again. And again. And again. And again.

Until- they get it right. Now, he looks like a normal mech, similar frame and shape, but with changes. His frame color no longer is a silver/grey hue, it's green with how often he's kept in the dirty cells or in the tanks. His arm got replaced, but with a quintesson-like arm. His voicebox is damaged from the constant tests, so he speaks very little before his voice gets glitchy and incomprehensible.

His body, while accepts the cog and gives him a new alt (flier), will still reject it after a long period of time (consider it between every 8-10 orbital cycles/months), which causes internal bleeding and erratic movement from his body, often times leaving him disfigured and in agony when it occurs. This can range from his body trying to transform mid-form into his alt, to whole on twisting his limbs, or both.

I'll open my inbox for you guys again for this au, I'll do a part 2 for orion's part. But yeah, here's my twisted horror au that I keep a latch on. hahaha-

Bonus art!

[baldursghaik]

Finally answering many days later, thank you for the tag, @thefloatingstone!

Favorite Companion: Lae'zel, zero contest. She's my favorite type of character ever, we love them doggedly loyal, hardass, and perhaps not secretly "sweet" beneath, but she possesses layers and dualities that make me want to fall to my knees and weep that such good character writing exists. She also has the biggest shiniest doe eyes.

Favorite Act: 1.5, aka the Mountain Pass. I've long wanted to write a post about how, for as cool as the underdark is, the mountain pass feels like an incredibly fitting segue into both Act II and the rest of the game in general. you are watching the sun literally set on the lighter and uncertain tone of Act I and leading into the bleak darkness of Act II and beyond. From here on out the journey is only darker and more serious, and I love it so much for that last light of day.

Favorite Class: Draconic Sorcerer, primarily because that's how I played my first run of the game. My tav is specifically of the green dragon bloodline, and it wound up being so fitting for him that it sent me down a whole rabbit hole studying and appreciating dragons. On a purely mechanic level they're very fun too, and as someone that romanced Gale (and then went mind flayer and locked down the emperor) playing a specifically draconic sorcerer provided a LOT of interesting parallels and contrasts to those two.

Favorite Storyline: Rolan (and Cal and Lia). to be honest, I really enjoy all of the grove tieflings stories, but especially these three. Seeing Rolan grow and change through the game was wonderful, and he's got a surprising amount of complexity and depth for a very optional side character.

Favorite NPC: I barely even need to say this, you all know I'm insane for her. My queen, my perfect duke, Belynne Stelmane.

Favorite Villain: this one was hard to choose not least of all for the fact that the Emperor could have easily occupied this slot as well lmao. There are too damn many good villains. I think Orin would just eke out the spot if only I didn't like her slightly better in the hands of the fans that have really dug into her character. As presented solely in game, Gortash wins just a tiny bit. Also I think he's just delightful, love to see a middle aged man in his emo BTS era conquering and ruling.

Favorite Romance: you know what it is bitch

Favorite Animal: Call me basic but I love Scratch. So much so that I have never actually ever summoned him, because if anything happened to him in combat I would be extremely sad and then it would turn into a Kill Everything run

tagging: @arcandoria, @ronqueesha, @themumblingmouse, @des-no9, @poly-hebdo, @gilraina (zero pressure to any of you!), and anyone else that sees this and feels like filling it out, it was very fun!

the template:

[mrs-monaghan]

So basically bangpd confirmed JK is nothing in chapter 2 without Scooter bitch lol. All his success, songs and album he credited to scooter. While no one can steal a bit of success from what JM did, others maynot be as successful as JM but even their achievements are wholly their own. While whole world, CEO, Fandom knows how JK's singles and upcoming album is successful. And it's such a shame because WE KNOW JK is talented but they are not using 1% of his talents nor he's trying to take an actual effort other than singing generic songs they give him.

I wanna go one day.... just one day without the JK bashing. Is that too much to ask?

Yes, you guys love Jimin. I get that. Good for you. And yeah you're bitter FACE did so well but still didn't get the push JK is getting. And yes, conquering the big markets are easier done with English songs like Bang pd said. And you're mad they dropped the ball with Like Crazy the English version. Guess what, I am too! But how is it I am still able to support and be happy for JK? Is it really that hard?

Bang pd is on a mission and he's using JK to fulfill this mission. Clearly JK doesn't mind and is a willing participant. But is that so wrong???

WE KNOW JK is talented but they are not using 1% of his talents nor he's taking an actual effort

How did JK not show us his talents in SEVEN and 3D?!!? Just because he didn't write the songs that means he didn't do anything??? Get tf out of here man.

This is getting sooooo old. I'm over it. Listen y'all, stop sending me this junk. I won't be posting them anymore. I love and support what JK is doing 💯💯 and i do not see eye to eye with anyone who feels the need to shit on him. I'm sorry.

I'm done with y'all. Peace ✌🏽

[pghbabesonbikes]

The Mid fucking South

by Sara K

Clay dirt roads. Southern hospitality. Strong bike community. Rolling hills. A few thoughts that come to mind when I think of the Mid South, a bike race out of Stillwater, Oklahoma, boasting 100 miles of red dirt (if you’re lucky; a little rain quickly turns this dirt into grippy mud) to conquer each spring. 

Early morning riding at the Mid South. Perfect dirt and gravel mix. 

Why the Mid fucking South? I don’t know. Perhaps there was a piece of me wanting to return to a state I lived in when I was younger, the fact that it was only a 16-hour drive (it’s not as far as Colorado I guess), or it could have just been all the online spam of the race finally got me to pull the trigger. Either way, I was one of the lucky 3500+ folks to snag a registration on the day it opened, and I was on my way to planning for my first solo road trip to the midwest to ride bikes. Total win. 

Getting ready for the race, I needed to decide what bike to bring and get it tuned up. I purchased a carbon gravel bike I purchased on craigslist a few years back. It’s the only fast bike I own, so I assumed it was my best option for a 100 mile ride (obviously, right? More on that later…). I packed both warm weather and cool weather kits, plus my favorite, a long sleeve wind jacket. Then a few little things like gloves, sunglasses, big water bottles and a buff. Nothing fancy, just all the gear I like when I’m out on a long ride. 

Luckily, I wasn’t alone at the Mid South. Once I arrived in Stillwater, I was able to link up with Pittsburgh’s local “All Bodies on Bike” team member Dee (shoutout to the Frigid Bitch training rides for providing an opportunity to network with baddie wmn+ in our community!). We met up a day before the Mid South with a group of racers to share a big meal. Folks discussed pre-race jitters, snack plans, and our personal goals for the race day ahead. As always, some of us were seriously trying to better understand why we had chosen the 100 mile route over a lovely 50 mile option months prior. Despite our own versions of training all winter, none of us had done a 100 mile ride in quite some time. Khalas, we leaned into our choices and began to plot. “What do you know about the creek crossing?” “Hey, will you remind me which mile the last aid station is?” “The weather tomorrow is dry and warm!!” Our jitters began to transition into race plans as we discussed our goals. 

I set a goal to finish in 9 hours based on my most recent riding pace and hoped I’d hit it. Thankfully, my biggest concern was alleviated because the weather report showed the race day would be dry and gorgeous. The route would not be muddy! If it was muddy, I may have switched bikes or ridden a shorter route - the mud in Oklahoma is basically like a big ole hug to your bike tire. If you’ve never ridden it, do not compare it to Pennsylvania mud. It’s way more grippy! 

All Bodies on Bikes team mates help each other complete last minute bike maintenance 

On race day, the start line was chaotic. Pros pushed to the front (I hear this year they will start separately), while other aspiring weirdos like myself were all around giddy and ready to go at 7AM. The start was chilly, in the 30s, but over the day we would see highs in the 60s and lots of sun. Many locals were quick to tell me how fortunate we were that no rain had come, or was planned. We were going to ride in dry dusty dirt, except for one small section marked on the map as the creek crossing. The mud here was treacherous to ride in, gripping your tires as if you were riding in glue; 100 miles in this would not have been pleasant! 

Mid South start line

The creek crossing was backed up when I arrived; guess I should have tried to start closer to the front of the pack! 

Dusty bitch

More dirt. I can still find some red clay dirt on my bike almost a year later…

The route itself was simple. Ride straight for many miles, turn right, repeat a few times until you circled back to Stillwater for a wild afterparty at the bike shop. This race is very much a test of endurance and focus. You are in 100 miles of rolling hills, able to carry your momentum pretty well, as you look out across Oklahoma. Other than a creek crossing, and a few miles of singletrack and snowmobile trails, the route this year was easy enough to navigate on a gravel bike. 

I chose to ride my old 2015 Specialized Diverge for the race. I discovered at some point I was rocking a broken front shifter and various other mechanical mysteries. Nothing caused me to hop off the bike, so I was able to keep moving. Many riders chose to bring a steel frame bike to the Mid South, with wider tires and more tire clearance. It’s something I would consider in the future, particularly in muddy conditions.

Most of the roads were more dirt than gravel/rocks, with the exception of one segment that had large chunky fresh gravel. Most of us chose to ride along the edge of the road here to avoid the grit. The route was very rural, so we didn’t encounter many humans or cars that weren’t associated with the race except at the beginning and end, which was in Stillwater proper. Volunteers packed the aid stations that were overloaded with delicious foods and the most Skratch I’ve ever seen concentrated in one location. The aid station volunteers went above and beyond to make sure the race was well supported and best of all, FUN. I was able to hit a slip n slide, lounge on a couch, and down a quesadilla while out riding my bike for 100 miles that day - let that sink in - pretty amazing. 

I finished in just under 7 hours, with the help of Sexxy Red and podcasts. 

If you’re thinking about trying out one of the “big” gravel races, the community and support available at the Mid South makes it a great contender. 

At mile 81 you get treated like royalty with a fancy couch and quesadillas

[lunarconjure]

First Post... Shit that's on my mind.

Whew... 24 going on 25 in just a few days and the trauma KEEPS popping up. I really thought I'd dealt with most of this shit, but if I'm being triggered then I guess not.

To start this blog off right, I should do a basic proper intro yeah? I'll introduce myself as Red. Age 24 (25 on 7/16). Black. Male.

I don't know how to describe myself these days other than eccentric, yet strangely grounded. I decided to start this blog because... well... niggas need to express themselves. And I, for one, have not been able to properly cultivate that space for myself in my life. In fact, this blog is the start of a new journey of self-acceptance and shame-ridding for myself.

I think the typical Black queer boy growing up in the South has had similar experiences to mine. I wasn't totally rejected by my family when it came time for "coming out", but I definitely wasn't accepted either. I spent most of my life being the smart, quiet kid with a small circle of friends who knew me to be anything other than quiet. I was the odd child in my family that was strangely obsessed with esoteric topics & books from a YOUNG age. I think my first "witch awakening" came with either seeing that one Scooby Doo movie with the Wiccan gworls or seeing bad bitch Raven knocking these hoes out with a quick "AZARATH METRION ZENTHOS" you feel meee. My first gay awakening came when my neighbor's son and I were in his room watching porn together and I noticed I was paying way more attention to him & his lighter-skinned meat than the videos on screen.

Obviously, being both gay AND an aspiring witch was a big fat no. It very much gave "Bitch ya already going to hell, you just WANT to do the absolute most huh?!"...and did! But it's not like I *wanted* to be disobedient... it's just that I've been able to see through the flaws & holes in organized religion from a young age and I've BEEN had questions! Like firstly... y'all really feel comfortable with the idea that after dying we'd be in either Heaven OR Hell for ETERNITY? Like... forever? Forever, ever? All depending on what we "did" during our measly (if even) 70ish years on Earth? Didn't sit right.

And so... I grew up feeling somewhat detached from my family & others around me. It was as if I'd already lived this part of my life and I was waiting on others around me to "catch up", but that never came. I explored different spiritual avenues on & off throughout my adolescence and experienced some good & some downright spooky shit (and since this is MY blog, I'd love to talk about that woowoo shit more). At some point, I was so fearful that I'd "never have a normal life" (cue Normal Girl - SZA) and thus began to denounce some of my more esoteric ways and leaned more into Christianity as a safety blanket from the world I was drawn to but didn't quite understand. I'm sure if I had a guide back then to help me understand my gifts and natural inclinations, then things would have progressed much differently for me... but I didn't.

It's always ironic though how the things that you need to be doing? The things that your soul craves & constantly sends you lil reminders? They will find a way back to you.

And so, my spirituality did return.

And that was about 3 years ago that I started rediscovering that part of myself. I stumbled across Hoodoo and my world began to open up & ancestral memories began to flow. I began to remember the power that I've always held & lowkey feared using.

No journey comes without it's trials though. And in true spirituality, you must come face to face with your shadow. Modern spirituality will try & tell you that your shadow is something to be conquered, smothered out. No, your shadow is meant to be heard, seen, and validated. You know... kinda like how you weren't as a child? Exactly. In fact, I believe that if we could literally bring light to the face of our "shadow", it would resemble a younger version of ourselves. The you who wasn't heard when you tried to express yourself. The you who learned from emotionally absent people how to mold & craft yourself to be worthy of love & acceptance. Your shadow is there to remind you of the wounds you still carry, ignoring them doesn't make them go away.

And one of my greatest wounds is that I've never felt like my voice mattered. Expressing myself came with the threat of the absence of love. So now, with my disorganized attachment style, INFP, type 5W4, and all other things I've researched and researched to better help me understand why I feel so broken... I'm coming back to claim myself. To reclaim my power. To reclaim my motherfucking voice.

As to not drag this first post out, I'll leave y'all with these last couple sentences. I'm a firm believer that until the blood runs cold in my veins, I am VERY much capable of making change in my life. And you are too. This is a step for me, and I want to hold myself accountable to continuing this online journal of sorts... if not for me then for someone else like me.

We'll chat soon. <3

~ Red

[dumbkatsu]

You ask and I deliver! I'm so happy everyone is enjoying the Mu Qing hc, so let's start:

Mu Qing would notice the littlest things about you.

From how you style your hair, how you prepare your coffee/tea, what you put first in the bowl if it's the cereals or the milk to the little gestures you do when you're nervous.

He just loves your little mannerisms so much. He finds them endearing.

Even the way every week you organize your books in a different system

He would notice how you sometimes forget to take care of yourself properly so he would help.

If you are a very busy person in the morning and forget to eat breakfast he'd prepare it for you to take away with a sticky note saying: "Don't forget to eat dummy"

When you first introduced him to MBTI he was really confused.

And when you explained the concept to him he low-key thought it would be another zodiac thing.

Which made you really pissed

So you made him do the test.

(And during the test he was a bit bored ngl)

It gave him ISTJ

At first, he was confused but as he read his results he was starting to doubt his convictions and so he became interested in mbti's

Cue you sending him a shitton of mbti memes 24/7

And whenever he saw a meme roasting your mbti he would def sending you

You would def make him dress up as your mbti for Halloween

But he wouldn't mind

Because if it made you smile he would do anything for you

When it comes to communication in a relationship, he can get a bit shy and insecure, so there will be times when he won't say wants to say. But if you talk to him and show him that you can give him a safe space to express his feelings he will become more confident and it will show.

OH! I totally feel like mu qing is the type to avoid you when he realizes his feelings for you (pre-relationship)

If you were close friends before and this starts happening it can be very hurtful.

You try to corner him but to no avail, he just gives a half-assed excuse and weasels his way away from you again.

It takes Xie Lian, Feng Xin, and even a tiny roast from Hua Cheng to make him apologize and confess to you

"Mu Qing you should be honest about your feelings, it's clear that they like you too!"

"Yeah bro you need to go head in and do it, it's been too long and now that you decided to very obviously distance yourself they've kinda been upset these past few days"

"Only a pussy bitch boy wouldn't admit their feelings and just confess instead of causing mindless hurt to both parties, isn't that right Mu Qing?"

"San lang..."

Yes that was basically the last drop for Mu Qing and he decides to drive up to your place

(cliché warning: I'm about to be so corny on this one I hope you can forgive me)

It started pouring rain and Mu Qing cursed himself for not doing this sooner and just being a blatant coward.

When he reached your driveway he calls your phone

"Hey, why are you-"

"Come outside"

"Mu Qing it's raining"

"I don't care just come outside, I want to take you somewhere"

"Fine. Give me a minute"

You basically leave in your pajamas and go on a late-night drive with Mu Qing.

He obviously gives you the aux cord bcs he likes your taste in music

You guys drive for a bit until he stops at a place with a nice skyline

You guys stay silent until he turns the engine off.

Mu Qing sighs to himself as you look at him expectantly

"Look Y/n I'm sorry. I have been a first-class dick these past few days and I really didn't want to hurt you by doing it but...it's just that... " he stops.

The words he wants to say can't get out of his mouth it's stuck in his throat until he feels your hand on top of his giving him an encouraging nod

It's incredible how you make him feel like he can conquer the world without uttering a single word really.

"I have feelings for you y/n. I never felt like this before. I feel like I don't deserve to feel like this, I feel like I don't deserve you in my life because I can't treat you like you should be treated. You've been here for me through thick and thin and I would do anything for you. But I am honestly feeling very fucking scared for what it might happen next."

You stay quiet trying to process all of the information you were just told. It was a lot to take in. Until you broke the agonising silence.

"I like you too Mu qing. I always have" you said with a beaming smile

"And yes you were being a total asshat, I was so confused. I thought you were upset that I ate the last chocolate pudding in your fridge"

"SO IT WAS YOU?? I THOUGHT I WAS FENG XIN! I MADE HIM BUY ME 4 MORE"

You two broke in silly laughter and when you opened your eyes you saw mu qing really close to your face.

He was looking at your eyes with such adoration that it was hard to maintain eye contact with those grey eyes.

He momentarily looked at your lips and his Adam's apple bobbed

He looks back at your eyes again moving closer. Your lips almost touching

"Can I k-kiss you?"

You guys can figure out the rest ;)

[ashlynniis-bracketeers]

Alrighty, have a remade Pinned Post

Decided to go ahead and remake my old pinned post. This should have all the info about me you need lmao. Will probably have some copy-pasted info, this is mostly for formatting, adding extra information, and the like. Also should be easier for me to edit.

I don't use "Carrd" or whatever you people are calling it nowadays. I grew up in the era of “don’t give out personal information dear god wtf are you doing”, so this is basically going to be the only info you’ll know about me, most likely for a long time. You are not obliged to give out your legal information (age, living location, etc.) to self-entitled randos on the internet. The internet honestly shouldn't know anything about you lmao.

Also no real specific DNI, if somebody doesn't like my content then there's no need to bitch at me, and if I block somebody, this is my space first and foremost for me to curate. My blog, my choice as to what I reblog. Closest thing is that I don't trust people who make aggressive dumbass discourse/stupid in-fighting discourse 99% of their identity lmao, people like that could be actually learning about nuances and doing actual activism instead... And I'm going to leave that at that.

Seriously, stop in-fighting, you're just making it easier for jackasses to legislate you out of existence because you're divide-and-conquering/eating yourselves instead of having proper solidarity and respect for people's personal choices/experiences/variance/identity. It's getting extremely annoying. I guarantee that 99% of people outside of the community/microcommunities don't even know about all of these arbitrary distinctions/arguments, let alone care. You're just cannibalizing yourselves while alienating potential allies/potential members of your community. This world isn't black-and-white, stop stressing yourself into grey hairs before the age of 16, what the fuck.

Shipping/fanfiction discourse is stupid. Don't come to me about shipping/fanfiction discourse. None of the terms used in the "greater" discourse mean anything, they're vague, ephemeral, and easy to rewrite. Both "sides" are ridiculous and filled with jackasses and fools, both have serious problems with using abuse survivors as "gotchas" against the other, being racist, queerphobic, xenophobic, and literally every other prejudice under the sky, and not having any discipline, tact, or the ability to mind their own damn business. Both sides need to learn some self-awareness, proper tagging (especially if being posted in a public forum), proper blacklisting, and that 90% of the shit they're fighting about doesn't matter in non-fanfic media spaces. I don't consider myself to be on either "side" because my experience with people who get so wrapped up in it has been overwhelmingly negative and with people on both sides accusing me of being on their opposite side. There's a lot more nuance here. Some people just read things in bad faith, whether it be through ignorance, being deliberately malicious, or the story just being really badly written. It's ridiculous.

If you have no unique icon+description+content when following me, I'm probably going to report you as a bot. I know about this place's bot problem (and the forms the bots can take) and don't really like taking chances on that.

I also do not share donation posts. Those are not my wheelhouse and I can never tell if it's a scam or not.

Related to the above: Guess who turned off Anons? I keep getting anon scam donation posts. I don't know when/if I'll ever turn the Anons back on.

Other than that, if I think you're annoying and/or the like, I block. I've been getting more liberal with my blocking lately.

Name: [REDACTED]. I am not giving out real names, what the fuck? Just call me Brackets, though I still respond to Ashlynnii and sometimes to Frost/Ashes (i.e. my Steam username).

Just try to figure out my pronouns lmao. I don't really give any fucks, this is the internet and again, nobody is entitled to that information. I'm honestly fine with anything that isn't neos/xenos.

Also, Asexual (I think... I've don't really recall ever having sexual attraction to anyone, real-or-fake) and [still-figuring-it-out]romantic. 👍‍

I’m all over the damn place with my fandoms, honestly. That’s for you to figure out. I also feel gender envy for unhinged middle-aged/old men lmao.

I draw and write, though I only post my writings on DeviantArt due to their… strange content. Art tag(s) here are “Brackets Draws” and “Brackets's Art”. For original text posts I use "Brackets Talks", for posting original video game-related stuff that isn't art I use "Brackets Games", if I make a poll I use "Brackets Polls", and if I add something to a post in a reblog (and not just ramble in the tags) I use "Brackets Adds". If I tag something “lmao” it means I’m filing it under “funny”.

...Politics has been heating up more and more lately, so if you don't want to see when I reblog stuff like that, then watch out for the "politics" and "discourse" tags.

Misc. interests include memes, being a furry (just have a fursona, not really a fursuit-er or the like. Fursona’s name is Brackets.) and Transformation content. No, not bloody Transformers, Transformation! They’re different! That’s what my “strange content” that I write about on DA is about, and I also make memes of it on Reddit/YouTube. It’s commonly just called “TF”. If you look in my TF folder on DA… be warned! Weird shit! I post it to Reddit (on a specific subreddit), but I don’t post it on Tumblr! I've seen enough people brigading against TF content exclusively on this site way too much for me to risk drawing in those asses. If you post weirdo horny comments on them you're getting cursed out lmao.

Now to list off other places you can find my content:

DeviantArt - Newgrounds - Reddit - Youtube - Art Fight - Toyhou.se - Neocities (Still huge WIP)

[moo-nstone]

i’m gonna be honest, sometimes i be reading certain astrology posts and my mind just goes like....... this could apply to every person. ever.

there’s this passage i can’t stop thinking about ever since i first read it, about sun-mars aspects in sue tomkins’ aspects in astrology book, which goes as follows: It could be said that the Sun–Mars person is at war with themselves, and frequently they are; at war too, with an early father-figure, either the person himself or the things he stood for. This anger with the father can fuel the individual to accomplish all sorts of exceptional feats; it also quite often fuels a lifetime battle with the entire male species and at the same time an identification with it.

so, basically, people with these aspects feel a hatred for the male species while strongly identifying with it.

and like, okay. a lot to unpack here. but first of all...... isn’t that all women.. ever? because, what does being a man in this society mean? being ambitious, assertive, blunt and straightforward, uncaring? because I do feel like this is something every woman faces – first of all, the fear and hatred of men for constantly making us feel like we’re under a threat whenever we go outside. every woman experiences being catcalled, being pursued in the streets, being groped. most women have experienced sexual assault. so, it’s not only natural but fucking smart to fear men as a whole because i’m sorry, not all men? it’s all men in my book, if one of them can rape me then all of them can and i’m not risking it. and then we get to the second part of the passage – while strongly identifying with them.

and, at first i wasn’t sure how to feel about that statement. i have my sun aspecting my mars, and i do question my gender a lot. i question everything about myself, actually, you just have to go under my yelena reblogs to watch me lose all sense of knowledge of my own sexuality lmfao. but, like, i do like to feel like a man, and i do feel like irl i am very hyper feminine and “soft” looking, while on the internet i get to express my “masculine” traits. i mean, the character i relate to the most is an edgy capricorn (yes it’s levi). and i feel like women have to play a part to feel powerful, we need to act like “men” if we want to be respected. like, when i’m walking down the street, when i’m handling my family’s problems, you best believe i’m acting like a man. we need to act cold-blooded, unfuckwitable if we want to be treated like human beings and not like objects. if we act like what society deems a woman, if we allow ourselves to appear soft and vulnerable, we’re immediately treated like weak creatures who can’t lead and who are dumb and need protection, not to mention the fact that we’re treated as little more than sexual objects here solely for the appreciation and entertainment of men (because, you know, women can’t be sexual for the sake of themselves, apparently). but... that’s every woman, because that’s how we need to move in order to survive in a man’s world.

and it’s like..... how does someone even get to the conclusion that sun-mars equates to hating men while identifying with them. i can understand the reasoning of the author behind her words — sun is the planet of the ego, our sense of identity, of self, who we are and how sure we are of it. mars is the planet of action, being assertive, wanting something and going after it, in a ruthless way; mars is to fight, to conquer, it’s ambition and drive. and....... we’ve discussed “masculine” and “feminine” planets before, how traditional astrology deems mars as masculine because that’s how society views men, while “feminine” planets like venus are only feminine because it equates to our gentle, loving side, to our emotional intelligence, creativity, passiveness. and we’ve gotten to the conclusion that to call planets masculine and feminine is at the very least narrow-minded, and at most blatantly wrong as we progress as a society and have our views on gender identity constantly evolving. so, if anything, sun-mars aspects deal with a hatred for more forceful, driven and angry characters due to trauma caused by an authority figure in the childhood that exerted those characteristics while, at the same time, desiring badly to be like that – to act on our ambitions, to allow ourselves to be angry and to take no shit, to not fear our blind need to achieve but, instead, embrace it as one of the things that fulfil us.

but still, i don’t feel like that’s a thing that only people with sun-mars aspects experience, i feel like that’s something that every woman – actually, scratch that, every person – needs to deal with on a daily basis. the struggle with identity that we face – to allow ourselves to be soft and caring when we know we’ll only be met with being underestimated (and if you’re a man, to be immediately called gay for it), or to exert our power and ambition, and to be called a bitch for it every step of the way.

[ginanosakka]

You’re Wrong

Masterlist

The Scars You Hide | Next

You tried to focus on the words of the textbook in front of you, but after an hour of studying, it was becoming hard to care about what stops you from flying out of a car when you turn and how to create a math equation out of it. It didn’t help that it was late in the night that you finally found time to study, your mother dragging you out on a shopping spree where you were forced to smile and nod at whatever she wanted you to wear.

‘I don’t understand why everyone likes shopping so much,’ your thoughts ran off as you looked at the new clothes that laid in the bags sprawled across the floor for your maid, Jun, to put up while you were at school tomorrow morning.

When your phone dinged you jumped at the sound, but before you could even check what the message was and who sent it, something hard smacked against your window. With your unchecked phone in hand, you crept towards the window, cursing your parents for giving you the room on the first floor of your enormous home. Pulling the curtains gently as if whatever had come knocking wouldn’t notice you, you peeked outside and immediately let out a breath of relief.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered after throwing your window open and pushing your curtains to the side.

Katsuki stood outside your home, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants paired with those combat boots he seemed to love more than life. He looked nuts, and maybe he was if he decided to jump your gate and throw things at your window, but the look on his face told you that this wasn’t a time to give him shit on his matching skills.

“Just let me in, dork.” He grunted, and you complied silently by stepping to the side.

That was the first night of many nights when Katsuki couldn’t bare to be alone with his thoughts and came to you to fill in the silence with nonsense. He’d let you complain about your mother, your father, and your maid with only short responses and noises of acknowledgment. When he’d finally jump back out your window at an absurd time, something you worried about since Mina told you how he had a set bedtime for himself, you’d lay in bed with your heart full until you could finally sleep.

Maybe it was how much you talked and complained about your superficial problems. . maybe that’s why everyone hated you.

“You have to talk to her!” Mina huffed, tailing behind Katsuki on his patrol, both of them on duty protecting the city.

Obviously, Mina was more worried about rekindling a fire that was never truthfully lit than stopping a mugger.

Katsuki was doing his best not to shout at her, after the restaurant incident, he’d been forced to do damage control on his image. The reports wasted no time making a story out of it, calling him a temperamental monster for yelling at you. When he watched the video back on a popular tabloid site, Katsuki couldn’t help but agree as he saw the look in your eyes. Still, that was probably nothing to how you looked when he walked away all those years ago, but it’s not like he looked back then.

All it took was meeting you again for you to start taking over his life again, not only conquering his media image in hours, but also his mind with all the hypotheticals. It was hard for Katsuki to see himself as a father, but he’d been one for six years without even knowing. He wondered what your son looked like now and how he acted. Did he have a short temper? Does he even have a quirk?

That was another thing that bothered him; the fact that he didn’t feel any emotions about whether or not his child was quirkless. His whole life he saw people without quirks as weak — he couldn’t count the times he mentioned you being quirkless, let alone Deku — but it was like he couldn’t draw any anger or disappointment at the thought of his son being perfectly average. After looking at that picture, all he wanted to do was get to know his own flesh and blood, and he was still pissed that you took that away from him.

“I don’t want to talk to her and I never will. I’ll take her to court to get my kid if I have to, but I want nothing to do with some spoiled princess.” Katsuki spat, and Mina was beginning to get fed up with how he refused to listen.

She snatched him by the arm, forcing him to turn around and look at her. Even now Katsuki’s glares still sent a shiver down her spine, but she was much more frustrated than scared right now. His red eyes went against her black and yellow ones, neither of them being acknowledged by bystanders who moved around them on the assumption that this was just two heroes discussing something they had no business listening to. That was only kind of correct.

“Her dad threw her out when he found out! She had no one but herself, Katsuki! . . . I don’t even know how she’s surviving, and by talking to her and helping her, you’ll be helping Ryu.”

Katsuki’s glare melted at the last word she spoke and he found himself whispering, “his name is Ryu.”

The tension had vanished into thin air at the mention of his son’s name, the warmth that engulfed his body not being one he’d ever felt before. He’d never even met the kid and he already had Katsuki wrapped around his finger, and Mina knew it. A grin spread across her face when she realized it, and with that, the first phase of her plan was complete. Neither of you may know it, but the son you two shared could bring you two together.

“How was school?” You asked Ryu as you both walked home from his daycare, the school being a small walk from your cozy home and quite safe due to being in the less populated area of the city.

“Boring,” he snorted and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his displeasure. “No one cares about my quirk because stupid Nora can glitter in the sunlight!”

“Does it matter? You like your quirk, don’t you?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. . Did you ever get bullied for not having a quirk, mom?” Ryu looked up at you, his big e/c wide and curious for what kind of answer you’d give him.

‘Why do children have to ask tough questions? What happened to why the chicken crossed the road?’ You sweat dropped, and quickly tried to come up with a soft but honest answer.

You didn’t lie to Ryu about things, not even about why he was now your only family, but you didn’t present him hard truths that you didn’t think he was ready for. Basically, you gave a blanket answer; a broad answer that wouldn’t hurt him. He was only five after all, why the hell did a five year old need to know about dishonor and abandonment?

“Well, no,” you started gently. “My dad, your grandfather, kind of made sure that didn’t happen and I didn’t know that I was a thing until I was older.”

Until I met your dad.

You ran a hand through his hair and pulled him closer as you walked, “and now I definitely don’t need a quirk when I have you to protect me, right?”

Ryu smiled a smile so bright that you wondered if he could rival the sun, and it warmed you to the very core. That smile was what you lived for, it was the reason you found yourself and wanted to be better. You couldn’t imagine where’d you’d be right now if he hadn’t changed your whole world, the thought of living in your father’s shadow being unthinkable now. You’d trump him, you’d trump his entire company, and you’d trump everyone who used you.

‘I’m strong because of you.’

“Of course, I’m your hero!” Ryu cheered.

“That’s right,” you chuckled.

You came up on your house, and the smile and warmth you once had was taken from you so suddenly that you stopped in your tracks a few feet away from your door. Ryu gasped from beside you and you heard his bag drop to the floor, but you knew his shock was the complete opposite of yours. Both of you were looking at the tall blonde man that stood in front of your door, leaning against it staring into space until he heard the bag drop. His red eyes fell on the both of us and you stopped breathing, not sure of what to do, or better yet * what he’d do.

“You’re Dynamight!” The first words were spoken by your son, his high pitched voice nearly yelling those words as he took a few steps forward.

You watched Katsuki’s reaction carefully, trying to prepare yourself to get Ryu away from him if he even so much as snapped at him. This wasn’t how you wanted them to meet — you didn’t want them to meet at all — and from your last interaction, you weren’t sure if he even wanted to meet Ryu. Yet all you could do was watch for the time being.

Katsuki looked him dead in the eyes, his usual resting bitch face, but there was something soft about it that shocked you. He was in his hero uniform, probably coming straight here from whatever hero work he was doing, and there was no question on who told him your address.

You’d most definitely be strangling a certain pink pixie later.

“Yeah, you’re Ryu, right?” Katsuki said, talking the next few steps towards him and bending down to be his height.

Ryu’s face was out of your sight, but you could imagine he was exploding with happiness. “Yeah! How did you know? Did you come to recruit me for your agency?! Mom, did you know?”

‘If I knew he was coming I would have sent you across the country.’

“I didn’t, but why don't we invite Mr. Dynamight in? He’s probably tired,” you suggested.

“Oh yeah! Come in, we can talk about hero stuff and I can show you my toys!”

Ryu took Katsuki’s hand as you walked past them, brushing Katsuki’s shoulder gently and ignoring how your body yearned to feel that warmth more closely. You unlocked the door and let Ryu lead him in, closing the door behind them and taking off your heels. Both of you were technically still in work attire, yours being business casual while his was. . hero official?

Katsuki was probably unnerved by Ryu’s talkative nature, but you simply went to the kitchen like you usually did when you got home and rummaged the cabinets for your tea. As long as they were both in close range, you could take a second to pull yourself together so you don’t throw your child’s idol and father out of your home if he so much as breathes in a way you didn’t like. If you were to act out now, you’d really have to sit down with the boy, and if you weren’t ready for them to meet, you certainly weren’t ready for that.

Your tea kettle didn’t even get to whistle before you took it off the stove, pouring the piping hot water into a cup with your tea and adding the sugar. The noise had died down in the living room where you could hear Ryu tell Katsuki all he knew about him — which was a lot — and you were staring to become concerned that Bakugou had possibly said something that hurt his feelings or kidnapped your child, but those theories were put to rest when footsteps came into the kitchen.

“He talks as much as you did.” Those words affected you more than you’d like to admit, not expecting him to want to make any connections between you and the son you both shared.

“He’s my son,” you stated the obvious. Turning around to face him with your tea in hand, taking a small sip of the burning hot liquid as you gazed at him with cold eyes.

Katsuki didn’t know what else to say, he had no plan for what he’d do once he got here, only getting your address from Mina and refusing to ask for advice. He had never walked on eggshells with someone before, it was usually everyone else trying not to piss him off. He didn’t know if he was scared of you, or how wrong he was about you. He didn’t have a clue that you were living a normal life, and once he came across your house in such a small neighborhood without gates and security, he felt even more guilty about yelling at you in that restaurant.

“When I told you to tell me when you’re ready to meet him, I didn’t mean just show up at my house.” You said, and as calm as it sounded, he could tell that you were picking your words wisely. She obviously didn’t want Ryu to know who he was yet, and he didn’t think he wanted to either with how happy the kid was to see him as his idol.

How would he see him if he knew he was his dad?

“How did you do it? . . I mean, what do you do now?” Katsuki asked, choosing to ignore your initial statement and get the answers he was seeking.

You were getting tired of being questioned, but this is what you get for reaching out. “If you’re asking how I’m able to take care of us, it’s because I started my own business with the money I had saved up. Next question,” you answered casually as you continued sipping your tea.

“. . Why did you tell me now?”

He noticed that question seemed to break your composure, your cold and aloof expression turned sorrowful and your eyes stayed glued to your cup. Katsuki didn’t understand why he felt his stomach drop at the sight of it, but he blamed it on the guilt he already felt.

“Ryu started asking about you more. . and I thought maybe it was because I wasn’t spending enough time with him. . but the more time we spent together the more questions he’d ask about you. I had to face the facts that I can’t play the part of mom and dad, and he deserved to meet his real dad even if we never get along. He deserved to get to make his own impression of you,” you admitted.

Katsuki was once again speechless, but the spotlight was quickly torn off of him.

“He’s my dad?”

A/N: Annnnd we have a new chapter! I hope you enjoy, and thank you all for all the love on this book 🥺! I appreciate all the comments and revolves so much! Muah!

Taglist <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @damnirina @fireworkemoji102 @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa @ladybeautiful18 @vintage-teddyxo @mirakeul @regalmigraine

[ablogthatishenceforthmine]

My Favorite Lyrics in Each Crazy Ex-Girlfriend Song: Season 4

Meet Rebecca: “She’s too hard to summarize.”

What’s Your Story: “And then/ When I plead guilty/ Just for like metaphorical symbolism.”

No One Else is Singing My Song: “No one gets/ How alone/ How alone/ How alone/ Only I am.”

Time to Seize the Day: “You/ step out the door/ Then back through the door/ Sit on the floor/ And stare at the floor/ Rock yourself until you feel okay.”

The Cringe: “Because nothing is as scary as what lurks in your past.”

Don’t Be a Lawyer: “No one you work with looks like Ally Mcbeal.”

Our Twisted Fate: “Such is our twisted fate.”

I Want to Be a Child Star: “I wanna sue my parents for emancipation/ After they get caught stealing from me.”

The Group Mind has Decided You’re in Love: “Rebecca, don’t you have bigger problems going on right now?/ Yes, and this is a welcome distraction/ Now, you might say we just need a distraction.”

I Always Never Believed in You: “Allow me to tip my hat to you sir/ Cause you’re no longer a total loser.”

Trapped in a Car with Someone You Don’t Want to be Trapped in a Car with: “Pina Colada/ That should be a city.”

Farewell, Fair Mustache: “Catching my tears/ And occasionally corn.”

How to Clean Up: “If you see something that’s not where it belongs/ Just pick it up/ And put it where it belongs.”

Forget it: “Moms’ always worrying about what semi-strangers gonna say/ And they’re right, we think about it all day.”

Hello, Nice to Meet You: “But to be fair/ It’s not everyday your doc asks, ‘how did sauce get in there?’”

“What U Missed While U Were Popular: “Now you might find it hard that adulthood gets so real/ While the nerdy kids from high school are like ‘I got this, no big deal.”

Hungry Vagina Metaphor: “Then bring me what I really want!/ A saucer of your milk.”

Itchy Vagina Metaphor: “This feline can’t come out to play.”

Funky Vagina Metaphor: “Funky cat!/ Is all the rage/ When something’s off with your PH.”

Sports Analogies: “Men feel safe with these empty generalities.” 

Hello, Nice To Meet You Reprise 1: “So what if we meet in another time and another place?”

Hello, Nice to Meet You Reprise 2: “Since you’re both the future and kind of a mirror/ I’ll tell you right now that life doesn’t get clearer.”

Gratuitous Karaoke Moment: “The crowd was annoyed/ But now they’re getting on board.”

I Hate Everything But You: “I hate the phrase ‘Love conquers all’/ And I hate that it’s true/ Because I wanna not hate things when i’m with you”

I’m Not Sad, You’re Sad: “Can’t find coke/ So I snort ibuprofen.”

The Darkness: “For so many years, i’ve used the darkness to feel/ But now there are things in my life that are actually real.”

Anti-Depressants Are So Not a Big Deal: “Yes, everyone is special/ That’s usually the sitch/ But when it comes to meds/ You’re such a basic bitch.”

End of the Movie (Reprise): “Because sometimes life decides to be annoying obvious about when it wants you to make a change.”

Real Life Fighting is Awkward: “And if you even had a real weapon/ You’d be freaked out by the weapon/ A weapon makes everything too real.”

Let Me Be In Your Show: “Just like everyone knows/ No need to assume or suppose.”

Etta Mae’s Lament: “Cause there are only two types of women/ Me and virgins you commit to.”

The Tick Tock Clock: “Tickety tock goes the tick tock clock/ Tickety tockety clickity clockity.”

I’m The Bride of the Pirate King: “If I die at his hand, It won’t be a surprise/ Cause my love for the pirate king is true and pure and wise.”

Apple Man: “I’ll never be caught chomping on a kumquat/ Tell that to your friend Susannah.”

What’ll It Be? (Reprise): “We’ll it took me two years to shake off my fears/ And see that the problem was me.”

The Math of Love Quadrangles: “After so much growth, she’s still stuck between men.”

Slow Motion: “Put on sunglasses/ Take off the sunglasses/ And just hold them I guess.”

Slow Motion (Reprise): “Maybe they think we’re in a sexy cult/ or flight attendants for five different airlines.”

JAP Battle (Reprise): “Just like I hated you/ But now I kinda like you/ This song’s another thing I can see two sides to.”

Love’s Not a Game: “I just talked to Jesus and he said that it’s cool.”

There’s No Bathroom: “Please don’t poop in my balloon!”

Love’s Not a Game (Reprise): “In order for a victory/ Someone else must lose.”

Eleven O’Clock: “I’ve done the workbooks/ Taken the pills/ What more could I do?/ How do I still not know myself after all that i’ve been through?”

West Covina (Final Reprise): “You’re remarkable!”

[tanoraqui]

okay I have to do this today because even I wouldn’t do it after the godforsaken finale airs, and it’s basically my specialty and I did spend like an hour thinking about it last night while washing dishes. Definitely partly inspired by @words-writ-in-starlight​‘s insightful post on everything Supernatural did wrong, and apologies in advance to all the characters for dragging them into anything related to Christian mythology:

Wei Wuxian’s parents die in a house fire when he’s 6(? I refuse to look anything up) months old

Jiangs are a hunter family I guess? That whole disaster of a family dynamic, except WWX dips out at some point to be idk an environmental activist bc at the time, that seems like the larger threat to the whole world. “Mom and Dad went on a hunting trip and they haven’t come back”, “bitch” “jerk”, 2 brothers in a beat-up old car, you know the drill

Jins are also an old hunting family, but more Men of Letters energy - they have a fancy bunker and do research and avoid getting their actual hands dirty. Jiang Yanli ducked out of the active hunting life a few years ago to be happily married to her peacock and settled down with a baby and she’s fine. We’re not going to bother Yanli. She’s safe and happy and doesn’t need to involved in any of this

so, WWX is the demon blood child developing exciting new abilities like telekinesis, mind control, exorcising demons by sheer force of will...etc, and Jiang Cheng is the Righteous Man. Lucifer, Michael, etc.

s1-3 probably proceeds more or less as spn canon...which I more or less remember...by the time they find their parents at the end of s1, Jiang Fengmian is...ugh, we probably shouldn’t kill him offscreen, I mean, we should probably meet him before he dies. I guess. Madam Yu lasts longer because I’m way more interested in her. But we do know that both Jiang parents are totally inclined to fling the boys into a metaphorical or literal escape boat and go hold the line for as long as possible, so...that’s spn energy...

Xue Yang is the one who’s like “fuck yeah, demon powers” and opens the gates of Hell, because I want him to have nice* things

*nice for Xue Yang

from characterization rather than memory, I’m 90% sure that Dean tried to hide his crossroads deal from Sam, but Jiang Cheng does it...better. I think it does come out, though. Right before the hellhounds do.

here’s where it starts to go farther off from spn canon. Jiang Cheng crawls his way out of the grave, gets stalked by a menacing presence that explodes windows for an episode, incidentally can’t find WWX...*Lan Wangji voice* “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition” (a baller line then and a baller line now)...and then the next episode starts with them all awkwardly standing around, and JC is like, “ok well let’s go find my brother then”, and you think there’s going to be an mdzs-riffing JC+LWJ Roadtrip To Find WWX...and they’re immediately attacked by like a dozen demons

in fact, the first time we see WWX in s4 is here, wherein he goes toe to toe with an angel and...holds his own. that’s new and terrifying! also is leading a squad of demons??

because here’s the thing: for the last 3(?) months, there’s been war in hell

because unlike Some People Mooses, upon finding out that his brother’s soul was legally nearly-owned by a crossroads demon, heir-apparent-to-Satan!WWX went, “actually fuck that” and kicked open the door of Hell (metaphorically, not loosing any demons this time) and was like, “who do I have to beat the shit out of to get a specific crossroads contract around here”

this did not work, obv. He didn’t know until it was too late, Lilith had already snapped up the contract, etc. etc.

obviously he also tried to offer himself instead, and got rejected for some reason

Since Jiang Cheng died, however, there’s been a war for control of Hell. Leading one side, Lilith, the Original Babe, who wants to break all 666(?) seals keeping Lucifer bound and in the meantime, break the Righteous Man so Heaven won’t even have Michael’s destined host ready for the Final Battle. Leading the other side, Wei Wuxian, infamous upstart, who wants to rescue the Righteous Man and restore him to life, tear Lilith’s guts out through her nose, and also stop her from doing the Lucifer thing because Wen Qing explained that yes, that’s a Thing, and it’s Bad.

Wen Qing! I’ve decided to combine Bela and Ruby’s roles and let WQ be both the cool badass example of how demon deals can go Bad and the demon deliberately leading our heroes astray for most of s3-4. Wen Qing is a very new demon; she used to be some sort of herbalist/witch but then she sold her soul in a crossroads deal to cure her brother of some lingering illness. 10 years of happiness and then boom, hellhounds. WQ is so obviously competent, though, that they (Lilith, I guess?) immediately offers her a job, with the promise threat that gee, that’s a nice brother you’ve got there, even with his Designated Chronic Health Condition getting all relapse-y. It’d be such a shame if something were to...happen to him...

we find this out at some point in last s3 I guess? some Monster of the Week case involves WN as a witness or something, or possible next victim, and WQ shows up to be A Normal Amount Of Invested In This, while desperately trying to avoid actually interacting with her brother (who thinks she’s dead). YES, the truth comes out; YES there’s a tearful reunion

now in s4, Wen Ning is fine actually, health-wise, bc he maybe made a crossroads deal with Wei Wuxian personally, and Wen Qing may or may not have admitted that she’s supposed to be working for Lilith to get WWX ready to host Lucifer? Or potentially that comes out later, idk. Either way, she’s 100% his top lieutenant in this exciting Hell War they’re waging

[insert whatever the hell (ha) happened plot-wise in s4 of supernatural]

we obviously mix up the relationships, too, bc it’s like, *LWJ internal monologue* I’m too young to remember my brother Lucifer as he was before he Fell, but surely Wei Wuxian is his Heir and Destined Vessel in truth, for he is Charismatic and Charming and Makes Me Feel Things, with his Clearly Feigned Righteous Drive and Compassion for All God’s Creatures and - why does heat keep pooling in the lower abdomen of my vessel when I look at his lips, which I am definitely doing a Normal and Not-Weird Amount - I’m just keeping an eye out for the famed Silver Tongue, and not in any way wondering how it would feel in my own mouth -

it’s actually DEFINITELY plausible for Lucifer to still be released even if our designated Heir Apparent is using his demon powers to his full potential and no one’s lying to each other about their motives. You just need to let Lilith be more scary too, and especially bc by “no one” I mostly mean Wen Qing; the angels are still totally hiding the fact that they, too, want to jumpstart the shit out of this apocalypse.  LWJ decides at the last minute that that’s a bad idea actually, gets himself discorporated to send JC to intercept WWX because he accidentally releases Lucifer, etc. etc. Oh yeah, the boys were def fighting before this, bc JC has actually fairly reasonable concerns about the sort of things WWX is getting up to in his quest to become King of Hell...

SO

...I neither know nor care what happens in s5

it does end with both Lucifer and Michael locked in the cage probably, bc I rather liked that solution. Fuck both of ‘em, basically.

I was toying with the idea that WWX also found Madam Yu in whatever hellish torment she was suffering after making a deal so her idiot son(s) would survive, and she was leading forces for him in the war against Lilith as well. If she came back to life somehow, body and all, it’d probably be compelling if she offered her own body to Michael - bc it’s her lineage! - and we’re all led to believe that she’s, uh, being a bitch and actually wants to risk destroying the world in order to destroy all demons...but then she seizes back control and flings herself/Michael and Lucifer into the Pit, because she’s just That Hardcore?

which means we’d actually have had her around and having characterization for most of s4-5, too, which would be fun

More importantly, it ends with newly crowned King of Hell Wei Wuxian appointing Wen Qing as Queen-Regent and ditching to go on an indefinite honeymoon with his new angel boyfriend (they’re going to fuck for like three weeks straight, then roll up their sleeves and go conquer Heaven in the name of free will), and Jiang Cheng gets to live out his hitherto-unknown-to-himself life’s ambition to be the sugar baby of the Queen of Hell. It’s very Hades/Persephone, except he goes back down to the underworld at least once a month. He gets his own demon squad whom he trains up in all the hunting techniques and it’s gr9. Wen Qing is reforming the crossroads deal process to make it more fair to the humans.

the end

Addenda:

it should go without saying but Jiang Yanli is definitely a recurring character, like, at least once a season there’s a filler episode where they go to Jiang Yanli’s for dinner and have to get along as a family, and also do the much easier job of defeating some sort of terrible demon that gets loose in the bunker and turns the evening into a horror movie. She’s their main research/emotional check-in person, a la Bobby, more often appearing in later seasons when there’s, uhhh, more to emotionally check in about.

Jin Zixuan is actually a perfectly competent hunter; he’s just a priss and we don’t Like him

we like Mianmian, though. Oh, I guess the official Hunter’s Guild or w/e tries to declare WWX a public enemy on account of the whole “King of Hell” thing and she’s like “actually what if you’re morons and assholes?” and joins hte team in s4 or 5? Yeah.

idk how the 3zun disaster happens in this ‘verse but I do encourage it to be happening in slow motion as a recurring subplot for several seasons. NMJ is a hunter, LXC is obv an angel, and JGY is...I wanna say one of the more human monsters, like a vampire? Or, you know, something that could be born from JGS sleeping with someone/something he shouldn’t have

[franniebanana]

CQL Rewatch - Ep 19

Wow, Wei Wuxian looks so rough here. He’s spent some time under the knife (with no anesthetic), and then after that, he has just been waiting around for Jiang Cheng. It’s been seven days since Jiang Cheng went up that mountain. And of course Wei Wuxian is worried about him. What if something happened on his way down the mountain? What if he’d been captured or killed by the Wens? All the while, he’s basically defenseless here in Yiling (iirc). He’s sweating profusely, clutching at his middle—it’s possible he’s even suffering from an infection due to the transfer surgery. Seriously, the poor guy!

I love the visuals here: all these cloaked figures just filling this tea house, and not another soul in there other than the waiters. It’s both comical and heartbreaking the way that Wei Wuxian tries to immediately nope out of there, because he knows it’s a trap right away. Even with his Golden Core, I don’t know if he could have escaped them all—there were too many Wens, including the Core-Melting Hand. This part always really gets to me, because it truly is the first death of Wei Wuxian. It’s the death of who he once was: that smart, quirky, rascal of a youth, who made a very honest oath that essentially guided him to this point.

No joke, the first time I watched this, I was like, “Is that Lotus Pier? How tf did he get there?! How much did they change the story?!” And then a few seconds later, I realized this was a super sad dream/vision that Jiang Cheng was having and I channeled all my anger into sadness. This part is also super depressing. He has this vision of this happy family: his mother laughing, his father kissing his hand, just the picture of love. But it’s so far from what he had growing up, and you just realize that his greatest desire was really to have that happy family. But his parents are dead, he’s lost just about everyone at Lotus Pier—it’s so heartbreaking.

God, he just looks so broken! I’m sad now.

So even though I know the cost of Jiang Cheng’s happiness is Wei Wuxian giving up his own Golden Core, I still feel so happy here, seeing Jiang Cheng feeling like himself again. It’s because Wei Wuxian knows Jiang Cheng’s heart truly that he could offer up his own future so that Jiang Cheng could have a better one. I also just love this shot of Jiang Cheng kowtowing to the Immortal One, thanking her for healing him, and the camera pans past him, showcasing the beautiful scenery again. And then he walks down the mountain path with such a spring in his step! I love it!

I love that Wei Wuxian is still able to use his mind and play to their weaknesses. Wang Lingjao is extremely superstitious and fearful of the supernatural, and just the idea that he could haunt them scares the shit out of her. It’s just very cool to me that with all the abuse he endures, he still maintains a clear head and is able to fight back with his wit. This is yet another reason why I get annoyed when I see Wei Wuxian characterized as an idiot or someone who isn’t very smart. He proves his wit in just about every scene, so I don’t know why he gets this reputation in fanon. I feel like it’s derived from some overused yaoi/shojo trope where the “girl” has to be less smart than the “guy.” I don’t know how many things I’ve watched and read with a scatterbrained (but not charming) female lead—it’s overused.

This is so cool, because Wei Wuxian is scared out of his mind—he’s terrified of being left to die in the Burial Mounds. He’s heard all the stories: people don’t return, their souls get torn apart, etc. But what is cool is that he turns everything around and makes this place his source of power. He’s the man who conquered the Burial Mounds. It’s very satisfying to see that. FYI, I’m not going to talk about how he falls for like 20 minutes.

But I do think it’s really cool how the dark spirits catch him (and that’s all I’ll say).

This part still gives me major chills: you hear so many people calling out Wei Wuxian’s name, and then a “Wei Ying” breaks through. My breath always catches in my throat the first time I hear it. And then you hear it again, and the other voices have faded away before you hear it a third time. And that all feels nice until the screaming starts, which is hard to listen to, let alone hard to watch Wei Wuxian go through the mental turmoil.

Lan Wangji is back, bitches! He’s got a new title, a new headdress, and he’s hotter than ever. Jokes aside, though, this entrance is beyond epic. Other than that tiny glimpse of him in the last episode, it’s been ages since we’ve seen him, and it’s so satisfying that we get this great entrance, walking up this enormous staircase. Obviously by this point, I’m ecstatic to see him (it’s been way too long). Everything about this scene is great, from his entrance, to the way he uses his guqin as a spiritual tool, to the way he and Jiang Cheng are now a team. I don’t think there’s an awful lot of comradery there, but they have a common goal: find Wei Wuxian.

So we’re not really used to seeing a ton of emotion from Lan Wangji. Even when he’s annoyed, he doesn’t tend to show it. But, man, he is pissed here. Because of the magic of fiction, he’s probably heard the Wens’ conversation as he was walking up the stairs, so he heard them mocking Wei Wuxian (and the Yunmeng Jiang Sect), and he is not happy about it. He even uses the Chord Assassination Technique right off the bat against at least two of the Wen soldiers. Lan Wangji means business, and he’s not leaving until he gets what he wants.

The other great thing is that he doesn’t even need to come up all the way. He defeats them at a distance, while he’s still on the stairs. And the power and respect he commands is so great that they all know him by his face.

What Wen Chao does here is so relatable. His girlfriend is freaking out, having nightmares, convinced Wei Wuxian is going to turn into a ferocious ghost and haunt them until they lose their minds, and he, of course, rationalizes: they’ve sent so many people to the Burial Mounds and none of them have ever come back. In other words, “You’re being ridiculous.” But when he turns away from her, you can see the fear in his own eyes. When something spooky happens, my first step is always to rationalize—there’s a logical explanation for most things, right? And it always makes you feel better to rationalize it to someone else, but when you’re alone and thinking, your mind starts to wonder, your imagination starts to go wild. It’s easy to psyche yourself up in the dark and quiet of the night.

There’s this really gorgeous cello version of “Wuji” playing during this scene—it’s so beautiful, so moving, hitting me right in the feels. The look on Lan Wangji’s face when Jiang Cheng is telling him about how he and Wei Wuxian were supposed to meet in Yiling, how he thought Wei Wuxian had abandoned him to meet up with Lan Wangji in Lanling—he looks so defeated there. Defeated despite taking down the Qishan Indoctrination Bureau. Defeated because he hasn’t found who he’s been searching for. And then he holds Suibian so tenderly and lovingly—I’m emotional, okay?

It’s really cute and heartwarming to see Jin Zixuan starting to fall for Jiang Yanli. We’ve known for quite some time how Yanli feels for him, so it’s quite satisfying to see his walls come down as he starts to care more and more about her. He becomes protective of her. When she gasps at the hanging head at the gates of Qinghe, his instinct is to hold her—of course, he stops himself, but it’s very obvious that he wants to comfort her physically (and not in a dirty way, get your minds out of the gutter).

I love the dichotomy here: on one end, you have Jin Zixuan asking Lan Wangji where Wei Wuxian is, while you have Jiang Yanli echoing that on the other end with Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng can’t answer—he’s crying, trembling, emotionally responding to his sister without speaking. And Lan Wangji can’t speak either. His lips part, but no words come out. Again, you get this great sense of defeat from him—he’s completely at a loss, but he can’t or chooses not to show those emotions.

It’s also interesting how they kind of clipped the reunion between the Yunmeng Jiang siblings in favor of showing the conversation between Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji. In my opinion, it’s to remind us of the reunion that isn’t happening right now—the one that should have been—the one between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian. And why isn’t it happening? The conversation reminds us that he’s still missing. I don’t doubt the importance of the Yunmeng Jiang siblings in this story—they are obviously instrumental to the plot and to Wei Wuxian—but it’s choices like this where the writers/scene directors remind us that the relationship to focus on is the one between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji, and not Jiang Cheng, holds onto Suibian, the only remaining item that is most spiritually connected to Wei Wuxian. Isn’t that interesting?

“A-Cheng, you’ve grown up. As your sister, there’s nothing I can do but worry about you.” Such a wise line—such a sad line. This really brings out how powerless she feels in the lives of her brothers. She’s a bystander, she has no influence. All she can do is watch and worry, and nothing either of them says or does will change that. It’s something we as parents and caretakers and guardians at some point have to admit: we can’t control our children’s lives, we can’t control those we take care of. Once they reach a point in their lives, it’s them who has to make their own decisions. They must thrive on their own, they must fail on their own. And all we can do is watch and worry and hope for the best. God, Yanli breaks my heart.

Me in bed when I watch a scary movie any time of the day.

She does crazy so well, though.

Other episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 |

[gingerwritess]

Theo, my girl, my idol, my star, my main bitch, I gotta read about the first time that Loki is seen out and about after he's been released pleeeaaaasseeeee (and some sexual tension wouldn't hurt)

part 18 of predating idiots, in which you speak with that idiot for the first time since…everything happened. (he hasn’t exactly been released, but close enough ;))

warnings: long ass chapter with blood, injuries, pain, alongside some denial and awkward moments :))

Life without a fake-boyfriend has become rather, well, quiet.

No more surprise visits with only the excuse “I’m dying” being given, no more lying about the exceptional dates you’ve been on…no more ridiculously attractive doctor on your arm.

No one’s stealing your bagels anymore. That’s a plus.

But work is slow, suddenly. The weight of the secret, sneaking Loki into your office to eat and sleep and rushing him home on lunch breaks for a shower, was, in it’s own twisted way, exciting.

Loki admitting to the fact that it’s been “centuries” keeps floating back into your consciousness. You continually choose not to dwell on it.

Your first day back after Tony gave you a four day weekend to recoup went smoothly, without a single hitch nor a word from your special alien. Asking about him while trying to remain casual didn’t get you far, so you resigned yourself to a quiet day at your desk, sometimes sending Marcus off to make copies for you when even he looks bored.

“I’ve gotta admit,” he pipes up one day from his station at the doorway, “I kinda miss Lucky. Thought maybe I’d get to stop a bad guy, that’d look good on a résumé.”

You shake your head with a laugh, scrolling through a file of release records. “Sorry you’ve got to just watch me all day. Can’t be the most exciting thing.”

“I don’t mind.” He shrugs. You don’t look up.

Another day ticks by, then another, and then a whole week and you still haven’t heard a single bit of accurate information regarding Loki.

Plenty of false information is circulating though, and you pick up bits of pieces around the break rooms and bathrooms.

“Yeah, he got the chair, they wouldn’t have kept him alive.”

“No, they’re rehabilitating him. He’s of use, he’s basically another Thor, don’t you think shield would want to hang onto him?”

“What, make him a new avenger?” The voice by the sinks laughs, and the faucet shuts off. “Just what we need. Another superhero. Jesus, I can’t keep up.”

Break rooms are to be avoided as of late, since you can’t go near another coworker without them jumping you with questions, assuming you must know what happened to him.

“Wish I knew,” you always reply. It’s not exactly a lie.

This fine morning, you pass the god of thunder on the way to the copy room. He gives you a grimace of a smile, lifts a hand, and turns to walk back the way he came before you can call out to him.

Strange. You haven’t seen Thor since the day Loki confessed.

Assuming he’s been busy helping his brother, you hadn’t worried about what he’s been thinking of you. Granted, his impressions of you haven’t been of the greatest, most respectable caliber, from asking you if you were attracted to his brother to watching you rip his brother’s shirt from him while straddling him on a bed—

Yeah, it’d be better not to dwell on what awkwardness Thor may have started to feel towards you. You’d rather not know his thoughts.

Then the next day, Thor is there again. You manage to get in a wave this time, giving him your politest please-don’t-talk-to-me smile and heading for the copy room again.

This time, the god follows you, fidgeting with the strap of mjolnir.

“I would like to talk to you,” he announces, trying to lean casually in the doorway. It doesn’t work well for him, so he straightens up and goes back to fidgeting with the hammer, staring at you.

“Okay…go for it.”

“I’d like to-to—” he breaks off and clears his throat. Finishing your copies, you turn to him with your eyebrows raised.

“Yes?”

“I’d, uh, like to apologize.”

Your brow knits in confusion and you cock your head at him. “What for?”

“Not to you,” Thor clarifies with a nervous laugh. “Sorry. Do I owe you one?”

“No, not really, I guess.”

“I’d like to apologize,” he tries again, “to, uh, to my brother. You know, Loki.”

“Ah.” You nod with a tight smile. “Yeah, I’m acquainted with him.”

Thor lets out a relived laugh at that, tossing mjolnir in the air and catching it. “Of course you are. The only trouble is, I don’t quite know how.”

“And you’re coming to me because…”

“Because you may know this Loki better than anyone.”

“Right.” Biting your lip, you stare at the crease in Thor’s brow. This Loki. A bit of a terrifying thought, really, but he may be right. However unpleasant, your interaction may have been the first semi-normal one Loki had had in a long time. “Well, um, how can I help?”

“How…bad is he?”

That’s a loaded question, and you pretend to look through your papers while you think. “He’s in a bad state,” you venture to say, “he’s definitely hurt. Somebody hurt him, and not just physically.”

“Right. Alright.” Thor nods, tossing his hammer back and forth between his hands. “I can work with that. Sensitivity, I’m getting good at that.”

“Good for you,” you laugh. “Be careful with him. I mean, I don’t know him very well. But I know he’s not one to open up, so…go slow. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the apology.”

In all reality, you have no idea if Loki will give a shit about Thor’s apology, but in theory it sounds like a good thing to happen. It can’t go terribly wrong.

“Just be gentle with him, will you?”

Thor nods. “Of course.”

You rifle through your papers, gaze dropping to them to avoid his. “Where, uh, where is he, by the way?”

Your stomach flips at the sound of the question leaving your mouth, but hopefully you can pass it off as casual curiosity, keeping your gaze trained intently on the papers in your hand.

“The healing wing,” Thor replies with a growing smile. “The two-hundred and third room. I am sure my brother would be happy to see you, my lady.”

“He hates me,” you answer way too quickly, flashing him a forced smile and pushing past him. “He won’t—no, he doesn’t—heh. Just curious. Thanks.”

—

Curious enough to go find him on your lunch break, that is.

Room 203 is a drab white room that reeks of disinfectant, one single bed in the center next to stacks of monitors and a cot-like couch beside it. It’s an improvement from the cell, you’ll give them that, but the pure white gives you a headache the moment you enter, and Loki still looks trapped.

Trapped, and deliberately expressionless upon seeing you sneaking through the doorway.

“Hello.”

He says it carefully, eyes narrowing at you as you wring your hands with a sheepish grin.

“You’re, ah, looking better.”

More like an angry cat who just had to resign itself to the fact that baths are inevitable, but better nonetheless.

“I feel like my limbs have been filled with lead,” Loki replies. He limply tries to lift his arms for emphasis.

“Nothing a god can’t lift, I’m sure,” you laugh, taking the few steps needed to be by his bedside. His piercing gaze tracks every one.

Checking his water jug and the tray of food still untouched by his bedside, you give him a mildly disapproving look, one he certainly disapproves of. “I bet you’d feel better if you ate something.”

“Not interested.” He sinks back into the pillows, watching you with hawk-like precision. “Why are you here?”

You give him a casual once-over, disguising it with a quick look about the room, as well. His arm is in a sling—that’s new, he must be cooperating at least a little if they’ve been treating him.

“Uh, curious,” you decide to answer. “I’m curious, just, y’know, want to make sure you’re being treated right. You healing up?”

Loki nods. Yes, he is healing, technically, but at a glacial pace that’s nearly historic for asgardian abilities. Maybe he had pushed his limits a little too far with all the illusions and covering undressed wounds for so long.

Your not-so-discrete scrutinizing of his shirtless body doesn’t slip his notice and reopens a whole other wound, but he can’t think about that right now. Or ever.

“You’re wearing a sling,” you lamely point out, desperate to fill the silence, and mentally slap yourself.

“That I am,” Loki replies, and can’t help the smug little smirk that starts to turn the corners of his lips. You’re a bit out of sorts—this could be fun. “Did you miss me, darling?”

Your face goes sour, crinkling at the nose. “Don’t call me that.”

Loki breathes deep with a grin, and Dr. Laing takes his place in the bed, lounging much more seductively, injury free and on his side, with an arm draped over his hip.

“You missed me, didn’t you.”

“If you weren’t on the verge of death and in a hospital, I would slap the shit out of you.”

Laing laughs as he fades back into Loki; it’s a tired sound, scratchy and painful and rattling in his chest, but somehow he manages to sound so disdainfully full of himself that you don’t know if you want to soothe his aches or cause him a handful more.

He does look better though. Weak, definitely still as weak as before, but better. Not so gaunt.

“Have you been eating well, then?” You ask, pulling up a chair beside him. “You’ve filled out a little.”

“Define well,” he replies with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“More fast food, I take it.”

“If I wasn’t close to death before, I am now.”

“Well, take what you can get.” You reach over and give him a pat on the arm, just one awful pat before you think better of it and immediately hate yourself for doing that. “So, uh, what was the verdict? On your…y’know. Crimes.”

Loki shifts on his pillows, trying to sit up a little straighter, and his blanket slips further down to his hips as he struggles to with one arm.

“My crimes…right, trying to conquer the planet. Those crimes.”

Without thinking, you lean in and straighten his blankets for him, tugging them back up to lay just under his arm.

His voice dies in his throat, and he stares.

You stare, too, but unfortunately at the bruises littering his ribs and the scar racing right over his heart.

“There you go staring again,” he says, clearing his throat. “Are you quite finished?”

Ripping your gaze from his chest, you meet his narrowed eyes and swallow thickly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Are you…are you using any illusions right now?” You gesture at him, emphasizing his relatively scar-free face.

“I may be,” he replies.

“Why? You should be healing, not hiding anything.”

His eyes roll and he sighs. “I do still have some semblance of a reputation to uphold. Maybe no longer with you, and something must be done about that, but as for the others, they don’t need to know any more.”

“I don’t really care about your reputation,” you tell him, and he laughs as if that were obvious. “Or any image you’re trying to make of yourself, just so you know.”

“Oh, you did miss me, mortal.”

“No,” you snap, “I just…well, I don’t want you getting any more hurt than you are. And…maybe might have been a tiny bit worried.”

The last part you blurt, staring out the window with a burning gaze. You would like him to know, just for the sake of knowing that he’s not necessarily alone in this, but when you say it out loud, like that…

Loki appears to have swallowed something sour, when you glance back at him, and he stares at you.

Confusion, maybe?

Or maybe just shock. Or maybe he has morphine pumping through his veins; that’s a very possible answer.

“Are you on morphine?” You whisper when he doesn’t move, still staring. “That stuff can kill you, y’know. Careful.”

Slowly, he nods, lips parted.

“I…am.”

“On morphine?” You give him a sad smile. “That’s why you’re being friendly. Well, by your standards.”

“No,” he cuts in, cocking his head at you. “Still using an illusion.”

You nod, glancing down at your hands in your lap. “I figured. You can take it off now, I’ve already seen the worst of it.”

Room 203 falls silent for a moment, nothing but the air conditioning whirring in the background as a wave of green energy passes over Loki’s body.

“Just for you,” he clarifies when you look back up at him, “only for you.”

“Of course. I won’t tell.”

Taking a steady breath, you scoot forward in the chair and begin your inspection, ghosting along the parts of him you can, too used to cleaning him up to the point where it’s almost routine. He sits quietly, you point out to him which bits he should really show the others, berate him again for waiting so long to tell the truth.

“I lie,” he murmurs, and you almost catch a smile playing at his lips. “It’s what I do.”

“Roll on your side,” you simply respond. “You’re letting them treat your back, aren’t you?”

He grimaces, but doesn’t move. “In a way.”

“Please? Can I see?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“I don’t know if you realize this,” you exhale, exasperated already, “but I’m a little more trusted here than you are. I can help you, if you’ll let me.”

He squares his jaw, fighting with himself for a second longer—then rolls his eyes yet again and turns to face the other direction, exposing his back to you.

“Loki, come on.”

“I tried,” he cuts in before you can berate him further on the hideous state of his lashed back. “Really, I tried, but they can’t treat them yet. It’s not a flogging like any that have happened on Midgard, believe me.”

The thought of something worse than a flogging makes your toes curl, and you gingerly brush your fingertips over his shoulder before the sight makes you retch; one of the few unmarked patches of skin left on his back.

“You’re still bleeding.”

He nods, face turned from you. “I would imagine so.”

“Bled through your sling…” a quick look around finds the spare cloths and towels in the cabinet under his bed stand, and you take a couple soft rags. “Want me to, y’know, clean you up?”

He’s silent for so long you wonder if he’s fallen asleep, but then he nods, just once.

“I would–I would appreciate that.”

His whole body jerks with every few dabs of the cloth, trying to at least stop the trickling and sop up what’s pooled in the bony dip of his shoulder blade.

You try to tell Loki which cuts desperately need stitches, but he just chuckles dryly and explains that these cuts aren’t meant to heal; that they rip and open any stitching or bandages applied to them. Each attempt to close the wound is predestined to worsen it.

“So you’ll always have these?”

“Until I can find a way to heal them,” he grunts, letting you help him sit up, “yes. It’ll be wonderful for when I’m feeling nostalgic.”

The sling, as it turns out, is covering a much deeper gash than the rest, one that the skin around the edges looks burnt—but weirdly enough, also looks almost crystallized where it should be scabbed. Almost…icy.

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just continue in silence to switch out his sling, sick to your stomach. Nothing you could possibly have to offer, any assistance from anyone on earth could make up for that.

It’s been a couple months now, since New York. There have been no other attacks, clean up has been relatively successful with the camaraderie of the nation. The avengers have been assembled, tested, and proven effective.

Loki’s in custody, no longer hiding, no longer blackmailing you into keeping his secrets while he runs. He hasn’t stepped out of line since, he’s been offering his knowledge, he’s been cooperating.

Yet he’s the only one still bleeding.

“Loki,” you say quietly, glancing at the door, “are they actually helping you?”

He gives his shoulder a testing roll with a wince. “That’s too tight,” he tells you, tugging at the fresh sling. “I’m being treated. Accordingly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve received the help I need.”

“I don’t believe you,” you reply with a huff, fighting with the knot in his sling. “I mean, has Thor even come to see you? He told me he wants to talk to you, but he’s the only person who’s mentioned you…”

Loki gives you a nod when you finish with the sling, finally lifting his head to look at you with an illusion-less face, ripped flesh around his lips where a cord stitched him silent.

A fist closes around your heart, clenching it and leaving a hollow ache in your chest. Your skin burns at the sight of him.

“You’re staring again.”

“Sorry.”

The stitching was crude, unevenly spread along his upper lip, and the left side has a couple gashes where the skin is torn all the way through. Must’ve had to rip out it himself.

“Don’t victimize me,” he warns. “Don’t make me into something I’m not. Don’t.”

Your jaw clenches, eyes flitting from his lips to meet his gaze. “How do you expect me not to?”

He drops his head back to his pillow, shutting his eyes.

“You should leave.”

“Yeah.” You stand, and he doesn’t open his eyes. The closer you look, his scars are fading again, back under the facade you broke. “I probably should.”

Before you can stop yourself, your hand moves to touch him, just once on the back of the hand that’s draped over his chest. He grabs your wrist before you can.

“I don’t think I trust you,” he whispers, eyes still shut tight.

A lump catches in your throat. “You–you can, you know.”

“I know.” He takes a shaking breath, wincing as his blood soaks the pillows. “That’s why I don’t.”

—

You give him a week.

You hadn’t gotten even half the answers you had gone in there for, leaving with more questions than before, if anything.

It’s hard to tell if he was pleased to see you.

So you give him a week. No visits, no telling him he needs to eat, no mention of him behind his back.

That week passes as normally as it could be.

By the next, you find yourself outside room 203 once again, psyching yourself up to just walk in there and cut right to the chase, not giving him even an inch over you.

But you open the door and he’s on his stomach, fists ripping the sheets as a nurse with a needle stitches the lashings on his back shut.

He’s bleeding. Badly.

“No,” you blurt, “stop, don’t do that–”

Your tongue falls limp in your mouth, and completely against your will, you walk straight to the couch beside the bed and sit.

Nothing you can do will allow you to move, and you spend the next few minutes struggling against invisible bonds, shouting silently into oblivion that you’re making it worse, horrified at the sight of Loki’s serene expression as he stares at you.

You can see it getting worse; each stitch undoes the last, reopening the wound from the beginning so that by the time she’s moved to the next cut, the one just finished is a fresh, open wound.

Even with his face perfectly calm, his gaze stone-set on you, his body betrays him. He jerks with every pierce of the needle, the vein on the side of his neck bulges, and he’s ripped the sheets by his fist.

It looks like pure agony, and you can’t do a single thing about it.

So you sit there, frozen to your seat and silenced, until the nurse gives up and apologizes for another failed attempt, promising that they’re trying to find a type of material that can hold as she tries to soak up the blood. She wraps his torso and he stays silent the entire time, knowing full well that nothing will change, and doesn’t move after she’s left the room.

You take a deep breath as Loki does, and the restraints on your body and tongue fall away.

“What the hell, Loki?!”

“Please don’t yell.”

“I think it’s warranted,” you cry, stomping over to his bedside. “You have a death wish, god, you–you–what the hell were you doing?!”

You’re shaking, half from the horror of having to sit there and watch him endure that, but mostly from rage—he could’ve stopped her.

“Why the hell didn’t you say anything?!”

“Shh…”

“Oh, don’t you shush me, I’m so sick of this–I-I can’t believe you made me watch that—”

A cold hand curls around your wrist and yanks, and you fall to your knees by the bedside, nose to nose with the god of mischief.

“Let me bleed,” he grits out, each word ripped painfully from his throat.

“What?”

“Let me…let me bleed.” This time it’s on an exhale and his eyes close, his hand dropping from your wrist.

You can’t find it in yourself to move away from him.

“Why’d you do that, you idiot?”

Half his face squished into the mattress, he manages a hoarse laugh. “Punishment for my sins.”

“That’s not your call,” you hiss, grabbing him by the arm. “You need to roll over, you’re laying on your injury. C’mon, move.”

He actually obliges and the two of you struggle to roll him onto his uninjured side. It’s not exactly comfortable, for either of you, and you realize after the fact that you had to practically hug the guy in order to haul him onto his side.

That’s probably why he went so stiff.

And…why he’s staring at you as if you’d sprouted wings, trying to catch his breath.

“Sorry,” you mutter, a little out of breath yourself from trying to lift him. “You’re a fucking masochist, you know that?”

“Oh, don’t act so surprised.” He forces out another laugh.

Always laughing.

Always bleeding, always laughing. It’s exhausting, not to mention unbearably irritating when you’re nearly writhing in pain for him.

“Do me a favor, darling.”

“Don’t call me—oh, wait, do you want me to slap you?”

Another dry laugh, but this one sounds truer.

“Don’t make me beg,” he grins, and you almost find yourself wanting to grin back; it’s a breath of fresh air, after all the blood and pain. “Please, would you do this for me?”

“Yeah.” You can’t help the tiny smile you offer back, hidden behind your exasperated sigh. “Yeah, of course.”

“Tie my hair back?”

You swear his cheeks burn bright red, but he doesn’t let his empyrean expression waver, sinking subtly deeper into the pillows and handing you a thin strip of leather.

“Sorry,” he says when you take it, voice muffled, “it only gets matted with blood if I leave it down. I’d cut it, but I can’t be wasting strength on that in this condition—”

“I get it,” you assure him with a smile. “Don’t worry. You’ve already ruined your reputation with me.”

“Right. Thank you for the reminder.”

Biting back a grin, you pull the strip of leather between your hands. “I’ll do it, on one condition.”

“You are unbearably difficult.”

“Thank you.” You lean towards him, a tiny, smug grin just turning at your lips. “You answer any question I ask while I’m doing it. And no lies, trickster.”

He mulls it over for a moment, halfheartedly glaring at your smug self. You do look sure of yourself, leaning onto his bed, eyes narrowed playfully, his leather cord taut between your fingers. Daring him to disagree.

It’s not a bad look. Confidence, he supposes. Power.

The day has reached sunset, and in this moment of weakness Loki can’t help but notice—the light filtering through the lone hospital room window hits your face in a rather flattering way.

That, or maybe it’s been so long since someone smiled at him, laughed with him, teased him—maybe it’s…nice.

Maybe it’s been missed.

Maybe…that would be alright.

―   ―   ―   ―

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424@fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @the-republic-and-face-of-texas

~ scroll here! ~

@doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15

~ scroll here ~

@mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda @padmeisgay @authordreaming13 @lokisironthrone @theunknowinglys

~ scroll here ~

@highfuncti0ningfangirl @epicfallenismine @stubby-toe-589331 @fandomnerdsarecool @retrofantasyland @arch-venus25 @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @littleredstarfish @marshyrebelcloud @okie–loki @atterodominatus @stfxlou @pandacookieowo @tonakings @shinisenko @tinchentitri @nildespirandum @thefallenbibliophilequote @vodka-and-some-sass @highfunctioningfangirl19 @sadwaywardkid @lokioneshot @brooksaza @wild-honey-piy @ellaenchanted91 @watermelon-lights19 @just-another-romantic @skinny-macncheese @lokisironthrone @rorybutnotgilmore

~ scroll here ~

@toozmanykids @brooklyn-times @nonsensicalobsessions @londonisacountry @peterparkerbabyyy

[jonjordanforrealz]

12 Years Is a Long Time

September 29th is my son Arron’s 11th birthday – a cause for celebrating for sure, and a time for this parent, as most parents do, to ponder aloud, “How in the hell did that go so fast?” For me, sentimental sap that I am, birthdays are always a time for reflection too.

In doing so this morning, I was, of course, reminded that September 29th is also the anniversary of my brother Michael’s passing. A year to the day before Arron came into this world, Mikey left it. 12 years ago today. That’s gone a different kind of so fast itself.

I’ve talked about my brother’s death many times over the years and it never bothers me to do so. Most of the time, it makes me happy just to talk about him at all. To be remembered is to be loved and he certainly is in both instances. But I don’t think I’ve ever really shared much publicly about his last day.

And I need to let it go.

Who knows? Maybe something like this can help somebody.

For 12 years, I’ve carried the weight of that day and never really faced it or dealt with it. And I’m tired. It’s heavy and I’m tired. And to fulfill my final promise to Mikey, actually, I need to get rid of it, once and for all.

Following a lifetime of major medical issues and severe mental and physical handicaps, and doing all he could over the course of his 25 years to beat the odds and somehow conquer and survive one and all, Michael would meet his match in the form of an internal bleeding issue that just couldn’t be solved.

A kid like Mikey, who couldn’t really communicate outside of very basic emotions, had no way of conveying to doctors what anything felt like, where it hurt, how long something had been bothering him, and so on and so forth. So oftentimes, things got worse, sometimes as bad as they possibly could get, before anyone could even get anywhere close to figuring out what the hell was going on. And in his final chapter, this reality first led to him being transported to be treated by specialists in Tampa, and then ultimately, to our family’s greatest test. That we were so conveniently able to face that final decision together thanks to his relocation to my neck of the woods was a stroke of luck that I don’t think anyone appreciated until years later.

Michael’s bleeding issue just wasn’t going away no matter what the doctors tried. Not to cheapen the matter, but I think someone likened it to plugging a hole in a hose with your finger, only to have another open shortly thereafter. At some point, you run out of fingers. And so, we were faced with two choices: An exploratory and very invasive surgery that guaranteed nothing or a nonsurgical Hail Mary that was every bit the final hope. My parents encouraged me to speak freely and honestly in that days-long conversation and as I recall, my opinion never wavered, though of course, I respected and understood their agonizing back-and-forth.

To me, this kid had already been through so much, literally since Day 1. Countless major surgeries and painful procedures that would absolutely hammer (and maybe finish) most “regular” people were the worst of the lot. Other concessions over time – simple things like eating and drinking normally – also took a toll, I’m sure, as every human needs simple joys.

Throughout his last ordeal, there had already been several procedures, and in my eyes, he didn’t need more of that. With the proposed surgery highly likely to kill him anyway, I didn’t see the justification to put him through that sort of torture again. I didn’t want that to be his way to go out. As his closest advocate, because “brothers” means something more that those who don’t have can know, I knew he didn’t want that to be his way to go out either.

Instead, I argued, that through the non-invasive course of treatment, while the odds of that working were stacked heavily against him, this put the ball in his court. This made it so that he could fight, if he wanted to. For a kid who rarely had the chance to call his shot at any time in his life, this was that. “Scrap if you want to, kid,” I thought. “If anyone can beat the odds one more time, it’s you.” And if not, I thought he had that right too. And I wanted to fight for that. This time, I wanted to fight for his right to fight. Or not.

And so, with my parents on board, we gave him his shot, and at first, true to form, the kid was responding positively. Amazed yet unsurprised, we carried on with some hope for the first time in seemingly forever … and then everything just tanked. Quickly.

I’d prepared for this my whole life. And I had thought I had been stepping into this moment already time and time before. But I wasn’t nervous. I felt a sense of urgency, after getting the call, because I wanted to be with him but I wasn’t nervous or scared. Something that always comforted me was a belief that if anyone ever deserved a peaceful end, it would be Mikey. Once we were faced with the grave news, the doctor assured that as they stopped doing whatever they had been doing to treat him, and focused on making him comfortable, that he would indeed get that peaceful transition. And I know in the medical world that nothing is ever guaranteed but I really believed it. I believed in that. It’s all I wanted, then, knowing that there was no winning this last fight.

But it didn’t go down like that. His last day wasn’t, at first, peaceful at all. It was prolonged. And there were gasps and groans. At one point, a seizure. And I was mad. I was so mad.

At the same time, I knew what it was, really. This kid’s will to fight just doesn’t go away. It’s funny because from the very beginning, one of the things he was diagnosed with was some syndrome called Failure to Thrive. Fuck that.

When the worst moments hit, and I watched my brother and my family suffering, I didn’t feel mad anymore. I just felt like I had to do something.

There’s a picture that I have of my brother and I in bed. I was maybe 10 and he, six. We shared a room at that time and when my mom or dad would come in to get us up, if I was being a bum and still laying there and we had somewhere to be, they’d plop Mikey right in my bed next to me. That always got me up. Nothing like an eye poke or swift kick from the kid who “couldn’t control his movements” to start your day – accompanied, of course, by his trademark giggle.

That little shit … It’s still my favorite picture in the world.

In those final moments, I just crawled as far into his hospital bed as I could to lay next to him, just like we did on those mornings as kids, and I whispered to him, “It’s okay. You don’t have to fight anymore. We’re going to be okay.”

You see, I’d often wondered, when I was very young, why he pulled through so many things that most people wouldn’t. After all, I’d always noticed people bitching and moaning about the stupidest things (oh, contemporary America!), wandering around aimlessly in perpetual woe-is-me mode. If anyone should have ever just said, “Screw this!” and checked out, Michael should have. But he had us. And we, him. He pretty much defined us, really, for better or worse. I felt like there was at least a little something in him that told him he needed to stick around for us. And I just wanted him to know that we would be okay if he couldn’t anymore.

Within minutes, things calmed down. His breathing slowed. The stupid machines making noise start doing so more sporadically. And then, before we knew it, it was over. That was it. The end.

I remember lots of hugs and tears and one of many goodbyes to come. And then we said thank you to some staff members – really a symbolic thank you, from me at least, to so many over the years. To people in the medical field, I look at you as I do teachers, and that is in the highest regard, having intimately known both worlds, whether I wanted to or not.

I remember going outside and nobody saying very much.

I remember sitting down at a table.

And then I remember saying, “Well, what do we do now?” I don’t think I ever quite figured out what to do. A purpose I’d always had was now gone.

Of course, in the coming days and weeks, we had plenty to do – plenty of the mind-numbing, gut-wrenching things you have to do to prepare for a loved one’s final arrangements and all that. I took on a lot more of the sort than I ever had at that time because I felt like my parents shouldn’t have to, so I was distracted by productivity. But soon after that, I don’t remember anything. Don’t remember his funeral. Don’t remember leaving my parents and coming back home. Don’t remember going back to work. Sports, friends, events … nothing.

Truly, I think I completely lost a year. I don’t remember a lot at all about the time in between Mikey’s death and Arron’s birth. And then the latter happened and it was like the pause button I’d pushed on life had been pushed again, whether I was ready or not.

And while I was obviously happy to be a dad for the second time, I was also still hurting, which I must have forgotten about too in that year prior. And again, I was mad. I was so mad.

In the years since, that anger lingered, because if you don’t hit something head-on, it doesn’t just go away. Anger leads to hurt, fear, panic, anxiety, a defensive existence, and isolation. I’ve experienced it all and I wouldn’t wish any of it on my worst enemy. I’ve distanced myself, I’ve been checked out and I’ve lashed out, retreated within and pushed people away. It has caused me problems in every element of my life at one time (or more) or another.

None of it is any excuse and it’s a lot for which to apologize over a long period of time but if my suffering has ever caused any sort of suffering for anyone reading this, I am sorry.

(Note: I’m still going to enjoy my space and my distance more than most people but, overall, I can be better!)

I feel like some of this might be a surprise to people because I don’t show it, hardly ever. I’ve gotten good at projecting this version of myself at any time, regardless of what’s really going on. I even manage to have and to be a good time, probably a bit too often influenced by some additives I’ve grown fond of over the years. But there are times when all of that is just masking a wreck. And it has to stop.

I don’t know why I’m shedding this now other than that I need to – because it can’t go on forever. I haven’t come close to being the best version of myself and I have people around me who deserve nothing less than that. What better time than now if I’m finally recognizing that, at times, I haven’t been good? And at my worst, I haven’t even been okay.

And the bottom line is that I promised my little brother, as he left us 12 years ago, that I would be.

I’ll never let go of him. He’s on my arm and in my heart and I hear his voice – especially that laugh! – every single day.

But I’m letting go of that day.

12 years is a long time.

It’s been heavy.

And I’m tired.

And I have to be okay.

[warriorlid14]

The 74th HG AU

@lumi-of-the-universe also asked: The 74th hunger games au

The 74th HG AU!! I’m most excited for that one, really. The plot is basically: Gale is reaped for the 74th HG. Just Gale. (I mean, there’s a girl tribute, they’re just not a current character). 

It would basically go through the entire series and things would look quite different with no star-crossed lovers or Mockingjay. Although Katniss and Peeta (and Madge) are all important characters as well. There’s a whole B plot that follows them in D12. 

This one was supposed to be fairly short. 20k-30k to cover the entire series. But now I’m at 30k and I’m not even halfway through his games. Oops. I had to stop writing a few months ago because I need to thoroughly plan out what’s going to happen. 

But I can actually give you a snippet for this one (please keep in mind it’s still a draft):

Oh, what a pitiful sight he surely was. One arm burnt, useless. His ankle twisted, barely functioning. He was toddling at a snail’s pace. He was easy pickings for any tribute. But still, he pushed forward.

The fire had deviated, turning him towards what he assumed were other tributes. So, he wouldn’t go forward in that direction. He wouldn’t go back towards where the fire originated either, as the fumes were still strong. But as long as he kept the fumes to his left, he would be back to the river soon. He knew he hadn’t travelled too far. The whole attack couldn’t have lasted more than fifteen or twenty minutes even though it had seemed much longer. And he had only full-on sprinted for a fraction of that time. The fumes had slowed him down, and then his injuries had. And there were caves around the river. Maybe he could hide in one, set up some snares around him to trap any tributes that threatened him.

Maybe, if he had enough time.

But it appeared he didn’t. Because fifteen minutes later he heard a whoop from half a mile away. And then another, and another.

His heart dropped to his stomach. Careers.

He broke into a half run, wincing at every step and still relying on his makeshift cane. Pure adrenaline was the only thing keeping him moving at a brisk pace, but he was still dangerously slow. And the Careers were gaining.

The woods had only just started to look familiar once more, and he was considering just turning and hoping that attempting to use his bow with his useless arm wouldn’t be complete suicide, when he heard the unmistakable whistling of a knife coming from his left. 

He tried to dodge, but he was too slow, and he roared in pain as the knife sliced through his pants and left a deep gash in his left thigh.

He toppled forward, just a few feet to the right of some loose shrubbery, his bow sliding forward and away from him and some arrows toppling to the ground. He reached forward, to grab one, to arm himself, but snatched his hand back just as a boot slammed to the ground violently where his hand had been, barely avoiding getting his fingers crushed.

Before he could attempt to grab at the boot and trip the person, he felt four hands grab at his side and forcibly yank him to the right. And suddenly he was looking up at the faces of three grinning Career tributes: the girl from District 1 and both tributes from District 4. 

He almost cursed when he remembered that he had shot at two of them and actually injured one at the Cornucopia. Just his rotten luck. Although he supposed it was lucky that the Careers had been separated or decided to divide and conquer and he didn’t have to face all six. Not that his odds were great regardless.

Still, he was not about to go down without a fight. As the three Careers tried to pin him down, he struggled, managing to catch the boy from District 4 in the face with his right elbow causing him to yelp and scoot back on his legs, blood gushing from his nose. The girl from District 1 struggled to hold down his right arm, and Gale almost managed to break it free when the girl from District 4 dug her fingers into his freshly burnt left arm.

Gale couldn’t help it: he screamed in agony and his vision swam. He felt blood soaking the gauze, felt himself writhe in pain, and then, as quick as the pain had started, it stopped. Her fingers were gone, but his arm still throbbed.

“Got an ouchie, did you?” he heard the girl sneer, but her face still hadn’t come into focus. “Payback’s a bitch, Twelve.”

He glared at her, now seeing the hatred in her green eyes and thrusted upwards, trying to knock them off, but she said “I don’t think so,” and once again dug her fingers into his wound.

He tried to hold back. He did. But he hadn’t had time to brace himself and once again, he was unable to stop his screams, throwing his head back in pain this time as she pressed harder. It didn’t last long, a few seconds at most, but when she removed her fingers he was dimly aware that they had repositioned themselves to effectively pin him down.

The girl from Four had most of her weight on his left leg and was holding his left hand down. Her district partner was on his right leg, and though he was shorter than Gale, he weighed about as much. He was facing a similar predicament with his right arm and the girl from District 1. He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

The girl from Four grinned widely as he realized this. “Oh, this is going to be fun,” she said.

---

Thanks for the ask!