#wheelchair confessional???

[notawitchbutabitch-blog]

At the intersection of disabled, wheelchair user, college student, and atheist, you get a person that christians confess their conversion stories and sins to while they are helping you to class. You can't see them while they are pushing you, so they don't get the feeling of being judged.

Today I was taken to class by one of these folks. We were walking through the university square when he declared his encounter with jesus touching him and curing him of his "porn addiction" and proclivity to "chase women"

I swear I didn't ask any of this information. I had felt him probing the conversation for my philosophy about life and I am a proud atheist. I don't need to be told what my morals are. and I figured being exposed to an atheist who is just going about their day, not doing anything weird, would be, idk, helpful so they dont get radicalized by somebody saying that all atheists have evil in their hearts.

In any case, if this happens again, I will definitely posting it here because they say the weirdest shit

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 1, Wave 6, Poll 2

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

Olivia-Fear and Hunger 2: Termina

Qualifications:

She is a wheelchair user and bisexual. During the confessional scene, players can have her admit to being attracted to any of the other train passengers, although O'saa immediately clocks her for being specifically attracted to one of the women on the train. Additionally, reading her mind in the demo reveals that she finds both Marina and Levi attractive.

Propaganda:

Olivia is my personal favorite disabled representation in any horror game since she does have to get through the game differently compared to the non-wheelchair using players, it is simply another way of experiencing the game. She's also just a very fun character among the horrors. She's also super down for killing the horrors with a gun she found! Elated even!

Havelock Vetinari-Discworld

Qualifications:

Canonically disabled (bad leg and uses a cane), fanon commonly as not-straight and even in-universe no one has any clue what this mans sexuality is. Also incredible queer vibes

Propaganda:

I love this man. Guy is a trained assassin who is probably some flavour of neurodivergent and is also running the biggest city in the world. He is a benevolent tyrant who despises slavery, actively drags the city towards the future with actual helpful projects such as revolutionizing the banking system and including species other then humans in the city and generally works for the city, not personal gain. Too many of the other rich people don’t really like him, which means his biggest supporters are the beggars guild, the sex workers (Who he allowed to essentially unionise) and occasionally the city watch, whose leader severely dislikes rich people and only supports him because everyone else would be worse. Vetinari also keeps the discs equivalent of Leonardo da Vinci in his attic. To be fair, he is there voluntarily and could probably leave if he really wanted to. The inhabitants of the city he rules have no idea what exactly his sexuality is and speculate about. Him having a potential affair with the ruler of another country is speculated, but there is zero proof for that and to be honest, common fanon is that he is most definitely not straight and likely more closer to gay or asexual. As a ruler of the city there were several attempts to depose of him, including such ideas as summoning a dragon to be able crown someone as king, poisoning via arsenic-laced candles (Vetinari was able to identify the poison while halfway delirious) and on one notable occasion getting turned into a lizard. During one of these attempts he got shot, which results in him having to use a cane. Also, Vetinari really likes dogs.

[emeritus-fuckers]

Call me your master ⸸ TerzOmega smut series (1/7)

CW: porn, obviously. no beta, we die like the papas in 2018. rat did not read this the second time before copying and pasting it. public sex (in the hallway). blood. biting.

i. tonight our bodies getting intertwined it’s fucking filthy feeding off the blood inside

Terzo would be the first to admit he was enjoying these…encounters becoming far more frequent far too much. The cardinal smirking up at the large ghoul teasingly.

“If I didn’t know any better, dear ghoul, I would think you liked me.”

Omega merely glanced down at the man, eyes as calm as they usually were. Perhaps the Cardinal was right. Maybe he was growing fond of him over time. After all, he was the one he would always keep coming back to. They were always there, the brother of the man who summoned him…

But for now, he was still too stubborn and prideful to even think about admitting that. For now, he’d just stay quiet, like he always would around anyone else.

“Good thing you know better, then.” He hummed.

They rolled their mismatched eyes, pulling the much larger ghoul down by his robes. Staring into his eyes as a challenge as he traced over that enticingly large chest.

“Always so cold to me…why don’t you wear less? It’s not as if Secondo would really mind…”

“I can’t really change my uniform just for you, now can I, Cardinal?”

Omega growled quietly, not really as a threat or a warning. More just for the sake of it, and he had a feeling Terzo would know that by now. If they didn’t, it wasn’t really his problem.

“If you’re so eager about less clothing… How about I modify your outfit a bit, hm?”

The cardinal got a dangerous grin on his face at the suggestion. Staring at Omega as a tearing sound came from the chest of the ghoul’s uniform. The completely innocent cardinal holding the knife that just cut through the thick robes.

“Since we’re modifying outfits…yours could use a nice view of your chest and cock.”

“Charming. Allow me to show you how it’s really done, yeah?”

Within seconds, Terzo’s red cassock was on the ground, torn to shreds.

“No underwear, huh? Really wanna get stuffed that bad?”

Terzo blinked a few times as he processed what just happened. Quickly regaining his attitude as the cocky smirk reappeared. Winking at Omega playfully.

“Well, I thought you would appreciate…easy access if we ended up in the confessional booth again.”

“And who’s to say I won’t rail you right here in this hallway, hm? Since you just can’t wait, from what I can smell.”

Omega was eager as well, of course, but he had slightly more control over his body. While his cock was hardening, his robes (or what remained of them, at the very least) still managed to cover it for now. Terzo, on the other hand, was already completely naked, their arousal hitting the ghoul’s nostrils. He knew just how badly the Cardinal wanted to be filled with him again.

And who was he to deny him that?

Terzo huffed as he watched the ghoul, leaning against the wall as he trailed a hand downwards on his body. Sliding two fingers into their cunt as they got that cocky smirk right back. Moaning lowly.

“Well, get to it then. I don’t have all day…perhaps if you’re too old and slow, Alpha could help me…”

“Watch it.”

This time, Omega’s growl was a genuine threat as he easily gripped both Terzo’s wrists, holding them above his head, pinned to the wall. While bending down to the Cardinal’s level wasn’t too comfortable, the situation really seemed to call for it. And so his face was right in front of Terzo’s, his free hand holding the man’s chin.

“We don’t wanna end up in a wheelchair because I decided not to be careful this time, now do we?”

Terzo grinned widely as he stared at Omega, bringing a leg up to grind it against his cock. Tilting his head to one side as he chuckled lowly.

“What do we have here..? You call me the excited one...yet there seems to be something quite hard right here.”

“Wanna compare the excitement, sweet thing?”

Omega hummed, using his belt to tie Terzo’s arms behind his back so he could keep holding his chin, making sure those pretty eyes were on him while he squeezed their cunt almost painfully before quickly slipping in two fingers.

“You’re dripping, Cardinal.”

Terzo gasped out a moan as Omega squeezed their cunt, his eyes fluttering shut a minute as he opened his legs wider. Biting his bottom lip hard as he only got wetter. Opening his eyes again with a pout.

“Such a tease…”

“Aww, you don’t like it? Maybe I should let Alpha have you while I look for someone who won’t start sobbing before I even start moving inside them, huh?”

Omega let out the quietest chuckle, almost purring at their expression. It was his favorite thing about him. He was so expressive, so adorably wreckable. Just for this expression, just for those pretty eyes, he knew he’d keep coming back.

“Well? You might wanna make up your mind fast, Cardinal. I don’t have all day.”

Despite his words, the pace he started to move his fingers was dreadfully slow, just so he could hear them beg again. One of his favorite sounds, really.

Terzo whined quietly at the slow pace, looking desperately at the ghoul. Trying to grind down onto his fingers as he attempted to bite him. Growling in frustration.

“Fuck…would you please pick up the paceand get your fucking cock out?!”

“So impatient… Is my dick the only thing you always think about?”

Omega teased, mimicking Terzo’s out pout before taking his fingers away.

“You know what you gotta do to get what you want, pretty boy.”

Terzo groaned in protest as he removed his fingers. Growling as he glared at Omega. The cardinal contemplating kneeing him in the dick.

“Pretty please give me your gigantic cock master.”

He pleaded, still glaring at the cruel ghoul like he just ate his kitten.

“That’s better… Against the wall or on the floor, hm?”

He managed to lean in even closer, even if his spine wasn’t too happy about it. Omega’s lips were now almost touching Terzo’s, but the Cardinal knew at this point that if he tried to steal a kiss, Omega would simply leave him there like that. Just to be a dick. Because apparently already having a huge one in his pants wasn’t enough sometimes.

“Come on. Tell your master how you want it, little slut.”

“On the floor…with your teeth in my shoulder.”

Terzo growled, staring at the ghoul as he only waited. Slick dripped down his thighs as he waited. About ready to try getting free to climb the tree in front of him.

Omega grinned, lips crashing into Terzo’s much softer ones. He always liked kissing them, but would rather die than admit it, being the stubborn ghoul that he was. And once he was happy with the kiss, he would rail them. The kiss was, on one hand, a sign of affection, and on the other, a final warning to Terzo to get prepared.

“You’re lucky I love your blood, Cardinal.”

Terzo hummed into the kiss, sneaking his tongue into his mouth. Pressing against the ghoul as much as possible as he stole the breath from the ghoul’s lungs. Chuckling softly at his words.

“Someone is getting addicted to me…maybe I should cut my hand to summon you to me.”

“You better pray I’m not around on your period, pretty boy.”

He growled softly again, pushing Terzo to lay down on the floor, the Cardinal’s cheek pressed against the cold floor as Omega lifted their hips, carefully pushing his cock in, knowing damn well the youngest Emeritus brother didn’t need preparation for him, considering all this personal sex toys were rumored to be modeled after Omega.

Terzo wasn’t quiet at all. The cardinal moaning like a whore (that he was) as he laid on the floor, greedily trying to get more of his cock. Clawing at the stone as he arched his back. Looking at Omega and smirking.

“Did it shrink since the last time I took it master…? Feels far too small.”

Omega didn’t say anything, just raising his brow before pushing the entirety of his dick inside Terzo.

“Got anything else to say, smartass?”

Of course, he knew Terzo wouldn’t speak yet. He always needed a few minutes, which was understandable. After all, there was a nineteen inch long dick inside his sweet, tight little cunt.

Terzo was far too busy drooling on the floor, cunt squeezing around Omega’s cock. The cardinal only managed to whine pleadingly in response. Any brain cells he might have had went straight out the window once he had that massive cock inside him. He didn’t need to think to get railed.

“M-Move…please master…”

He mumbled, finally managing words after almost four minutes of desperate whines and unintelligible noises.

“Good boy… Keep those sweet noises coming, yeah?”

Omega hummed, starting to very slowly rolling his hips while moving Terzo’s own with one of his hands, using the other arm for support so he could lean over the man. Leaning in as close as he could, eagerly biting into his shoulder. Or at least attempting, since the cardinal seemed very eager to squirm…

Which ended up with Omega biting his neck. Accidentally mating him.

But oh well, as long as Terzo had no idea what it meant, it didn’t matter.

Terzo cried out as he drooled heavily, slamming his hips back despite Omega’s hand on him. Trying to wreck himself on Omega’s cock. Not even caring about being careful.

A wheelchair didn’t sound that bad.

“... Horny little man.”

Omega chuckled, covering Terzo’s neck and shoulders in bitemarks, greedily licking up all the blood that came out of the small wounds as he bruised the cardinal’s hips from his grip, eagerly matching the man’s need for his dick, moving in what seemed to be a perfect harmony with him.

Terzo was moaning like a pornstar as he slammed himself back onto the ghoul’s cock, eyes rolling back as the knot in his stomach tightened. Already worked up from the biting and cruel ghoul’s words. It was unfair how much his voice affected him.

“F-Fuck me like you mean it!”  

“Aww, is this what my whiny baby wants?”

He grinned, grabbing the man’s throat and pulling him up as he moved himself to kneel more comfortably and pull the cardinal onto his lap, catching his lips in a hungry kiss as he moved them up and down like he would a toy. After all, he knew Terzo loved being used by him like that.

Terzo was practically screaming into that kiss, eyes rolling back as he came around the ghoul’s cock. Cunt drenched with slick as he whimpered brokenly. Clinging to the belt tying his hands.

“M-Master, please…fuck me stupid-”

“You already are.”

The ghoul chuckled, but obeyed the cardinal, easily knowing all his weak spots. They’ve done it multiple times by now, after all… why wouldn’t he know? He’d have to be stupid. And Omega was no fool, he was a very good observer. He knew exactly how to please Terzo.

And so he did, his fingers playing with their clit as he kept moving them up and down while squeezing his neck just enough to make them dizzy. Exactly the way Terzo liked it. 

Terzo’s moans only got louder the closer he got to cumming his brains out, back fully arched as he squeezed his eyes shut. Their pussy clenching hard around Omega as he rolled his hips down onto him. Whimpering softly in need.

“Master…please…fill me with cum?”

Omega chuckled, nodding as he hid his face in Terzo’s neck, not stopping his actions, but holding his sounds back, only letting out tiny groans as he focused on his partner.

“You gotta cum first, baby boy. C’mon, you’ll cum for me, won’t you? Be a good boy for me.”

Terzo groaned as he clung to the belts tightly. Breathing hard as he whined in bliss. Grinding up into Omega’s hand as he squirmed. Screaming his name as he finally came after just a minute more.

“Oh fuck- OMEGA!” 

“That’s right, pretty boy. That’s who’s fucking your brains out right now…”

Omega groaned, slowing down a bit to keep going a bit longer, but seeing Terzo’s pretty tears always worked miracles on him. And those miracles would always fill up the cardinal’s cunt with with his cum, just like now.

Terzo gave the dopiest smile as he felt the warmth in their cunt, tears dripping down his cheeks from pleasure as he clung to the ghoul. Not even on the same planet to register the camera clicking nearby.

Alpha smirked deviously under his mask…

That’s something Omega would deal with a bit later.

~

Written by Death and Nosferatu.

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @dio-niisio @firefirevampire @mybotanicaldemise @emo-mess @natoncesaid @sirlsplayland @thatoddboy @lightbluuestars @strawberriiblossoms @dark-angel-is-back @igodownjustlikeholymary

[xoangel-dust]

Random Alenoheather Headcanons:

*might include ones from my previous post but it will have new ones* *Also Alejandro is NOT put into the drama machine also might be a bit Alejandro biased/centric he is my favorite character*

While Heather and Noah go to work/school respectively Alejandro stays in a house left to him by another family member who he is close with (he got disowned by his parents after getting hurt in the world tour finale and being in a polygamous relationship/marriage)

Heather was able to get her own talk show

Noah is a twitch streamer and computer programmer

Their relationship starts during world tour Heather basically threatens Noah into an alliance with her (he isn’t threatened by her but he knows it’s smart to aline with her. She overhears him in the confessional and catches him when he’s walking out of it)

The romance starts with Alejandro flirting with Heather but he also starts to flirt with Noah the same way and it confuses the both of them and they think he’s up to something(when in reality he has a crush on both of them)

Noah and Heather confront Alejandro about said flirting down in the cargo hold of the plane

Noah makes it to the merge (gets double eliminated with Duncan in the Serengeti episode because Chris is an asshole votes as follows: Alejandro, Heather and Noah all vote for Duncan but Duncan, Sierra and Cody all vote for Noah because Duncan believes that he’s the true “brain” behind Alejandro and Heather’s schemes since they got him caught by Zeke)

Heather(she feels incredibly guilty for what happened to him)and Noah take turns nursing Alejandro back health after his accident once he gets out of the hospital. They both would visit him and would apply the creams for his burns, oils to help his hair grow back properly as well as his various doctor and physical therapy appointments)

Once he makes a full recovery they go on their very first date to a drive in movie theater in Noah’s van similar to this van from Ed, Edd’n Eddy (x ) they spend more time making out rather than watching the movie)

Alejandro occasionally uses a cane or a wheelchair as his legs get tired faster now Noah calls it his “pimp” cane as it as the head of a bull as the handle.

They date for two years and Alejandro proposes to the both of them (he proposes on Valentine’s Day for the cheesy-ness of it all. Heather and Noah both find it cliche yet charming even though they don’t say it)

Alejandro becomes an actor and his family catches wind of it (he gets a major roll and wins an Oscar).

They have a small private wedding (Owen much to the dismay of Alejandro and Heather , Izzy who’s with Owen,Duncan and Courtney who are friends with Alejandro and Heather respectively all come to the wedding as Owen his Noah best man and Duncan is Alejandro’s while Courtney is the maid of honor. Tyler and Lindsay show up too. The “audience” has Noah’s large family, Alejandro’s older brother Carols and his wife their daughter is the flower girl and a few aunts and uncles of Alejandro’s family including the one who left him the house. Heather does not invite her parents her grandfather is the one to walk her down the isle)

Heather’s wedding dress (x)

Alejandro and Noah’s suit(x) they decided on matching suits

They go on their honeymoon at a beach house in Spain that his brother Carols allowed them to use.

Heather takes two pregnancy tests giving them to Noah and Alejandro on Noah’s birthday in little boxes

Alejandro doesn’t understand slang so Heather and Noah say it just to fuck with him

[terrence-silver]

the idea of terry with a beloved around his age who he's known a long time not remembering who he is because they suffer from dementia / amnesia is literally making me depressed

He remembers for them.

And he makes it his life's effort and mission to care for them once all the treatments money can buy fail preventing their state; doing so not in some expensive care home, old people's retreat, hospital --- no, personally, on his own estate, in his own mansion, because there's hardly a personnel he trusts more than his own inside of his own home, overlooked by him and his very own jurisdiction in caring for a person he's continuously loved for decades. He quite literally moved them in on his own accord years ago, even before the first signs of their Dementia started. People whisper Mr. Silver has had a significant other (or a family member --- hard to tell which beloved pertains to by an outsider) he's been committed to for literal ages but few have actually seen them because admittedly, he's selfish with beloved's presence, more so if they're sick and fragile, leaving him somewhat unwilling to reveal just how vulnerable his weakness for them is, quite literally speaking --- it is wheelchair bound, it is skittish and has a blank slate for a mind most days; there's a tiny, gloomy upside to this grief, he might think, calculating and possessive as he is even now. Sure, they don't remember him anymore but they don't remember much else either. There's no competition left inside of their head he needs to beat anyway. They're quite literally only his. Mind, body and soul.

And so he cares.

Ritualistically combing their hair, lifting them when it's time to wash them, clothe them in the best of the best, stretching their limbs a couple of times a day to avoid atrophy, feeding them meals they used to love once upon a time, calming them down once they might fly into a panic wondering what this strange, tall man is doing here; very often, Terry might talk to beloved for hours, telling them all of his plans, every nuance, every scheme, every memory, the good old days, how he'll deal with his enemies, what he'll do to who, knowing that they won't tell anyone or even judge him because ten minutes from now, they might not even remember and they're the safest confessional and friend he could ever relay his deepest, darkest secrets to. Possibly the friend he's had longest if we don't count John Kreese; and for a man fearing betrayal in his older age, it comes as an oddly comforting thing as much as it is a thing of harrowing, profound rage because if everything else evaporates from beloved's mind, so does he and he has no control or ability to ever stop it. It's like they're slipping through his fingers multiple times a day and even when he closes his fist around them, they're still not there. It is unimaginable. Beloved. Not remembering decades of love, happy moments --- his utter devotion to them. Everything he did for them. But, keep them he will and keep them he does. Because whatever their state, they're his.

For everything you need, all your life, always rings entirely true for Terry.

And in the brief moments beloved does remember?

Terry Silver isn't a crier but I do imagine him, tight arms around beloved, practically hysterically weeping and laughing into their chest because they still think it's 1985 and just asked for Margaret who has been dead for quite a while.

[fountainpenguin]

"He has more than nine lives, so he picks himself up and keeps climbing for the prize... again."

---

Summary: If Cody's wheelchair falls off the Dock of Shame into the lake and only Chris and Heather are around, does anyone care?

"Sunk Too Deep"

Read on dA || Read on FFN || Read on AO3

[ Warning for canon bear mauling injuries ]

Originally posted on dA - July 8th, 2015! Happy 8 years!

---

Well, I'm not planning to repost all my Total Drama 'fics on AO3, but "Sunk Too Deep" was always the fan-favorite of my gallery, so I want to add it for preservation reasons <3

Apparently the OG has 19.3k views, and I know they're inflated by dA's weird search system but... dang. Congrats to 2015 me.

If there are other favorites people would be interested in me porting over to AO3, let me know! :)

(First 1000 words under the cut)

I dragged Cody's wheelchair to the confessional instead of pushing it. The rubber wheels snagged in the untrimmed grass and sometimes made the whole thing tip onto one side, but I'd stopped caring. I had more than enough time to kill tonight. Leshawna had holed herself up in the bathrooms with Beth and Lindsay for the last hour, scrubbing out the paintball splatters until their skin turned red and lumpy. When I'd last checked, she'd been about to start on their hair.

"Well, here we are, dork." I righted Cody's chair again and parked it outside the confessional door. "You really think you're up for this?"

Cody nodded. He said something too, but the words died out behind his mask of bandages. I hoped that if he made any attempt to get me eliminated from the island tonight, Chris would drop his vote on the grounds that it was unintelligible.

"Courtney, are you still in there?" I gave the outhouse a swift kick, regretting it instantly when splinters jabbed my uncovered toes. "Your team didn't even lose the challenge. What could you possibly need to go on about for half an hour straight?"

"Okay, Heather, one minute! Just let me wrap up. What was I saying again? I was saying something. Oh, and I had to stare up his nostrils for twenty minutes as we struggled back to camp. And he made me walk backwards. I fell into the stream! Twice! And his pits reeked like sweaty socks dunked in split pea soup and left to molder. But that wasn't even the worst of it. Not three minutes in, he said to me…"

I sat down against the wall and emptied my shoes of pebbles as Courtney's complaints trailed into background noise. Wearing high-heel wedges to camp? Definitely not among the top ten decisions I'd ever made in my life. I should have expected Chris would lie about the five-star resort. Cody made muffled noises for a few minutes, and when I finally looked around for him, his chair had edged several meters down the slope. He fell over when one wheel sunk into uneven ground. I entertained myself by watching him squirm beneath his seatbelt, visible only by strips of gauze and tufts of brown hair. When he twisted just right, I could make out the purple around his swollen eye too.

The door opened. Courtney stepped out, her tan face flushed a deep pink that I could see even in the twilight. Between that and the way her fingernails were stuck in the wood, I took a wild guess and concluded that if I hadn't called for her to get out, she would have stayed in the outhouse listing slights against Duncan all night.

"There. It's all yours. Happy voting, Heather." A frown shot across her face. "Are you okay? Your eye is all red and puffy. That one, right there." She wrenched her nails from the door so she could point, in case I didn't know which one she meant. "And you still have paint in your hair."

I placed the back of one palm against my eye. "Yeah, well, I can't deny that I'm impressed with Leshawna's aim. Who knew those shampoo bottles could squirt all the way from the sinks to the door? I thought for sure that enormous backside of hers would knock her off balance."

A tiny smile twitched at one end of Courtney's mouth. "That's not very funny," she started to say, and then her eyes strayed past my shoulder. "Hey, is that Cody? He could be hurt!"

"Not more than he is already," I said, but Courtney bolted past me anyway. She pulled him from the ground, checked to be sure he was securely buckled in, and then turned a few puzzled circles.

"He's with me." I got to my feet and stretched. "Chris still wants him to make his vote tonight. Or give a valiant and hilarious try, anyway. I volunteered to keep him out of trouble."

Cody spat something beneath his bandages, shooting me a razor-edged glare as Courtney pushed him back up the slope.

"What's your problem, bear-bait? It's not my fault you fell down. That can't have hurt worse than your mauling."

Cody made a fair attempt at shaking his head.

Courtney pulled Cody's chair inside the confessional, even climbing on top of the toilet seat so she could ease him into position. His elbow knocked the camera from its straps on the door. I picked it up, silently cursing myself for not grabbing the opportunity to deliver my vote and take off while Courtney had been rescuing him. I was not looking forward to dragging him out of there.

"There. Nice and snug." Courtney squeezed around Cody's chair and stood back to admire her handiwork. "I'll leave you to it then. Good-bye, Cody. You never would have made it to the finals anyway, but it's awful to see you go out like this. Get well soon." She gave him a very gentle hug around the neck brace before heading off towards the Bass cabin. Cody made strangled noises like he was trying to call after her.

I furrowed my brow. Wait a minute.

I took my hand from the door and it swung shut behind me. "Are you- ? … Oh. Oh. You can still speak, can't you? Well, duh, of course you can still speak. I heard you trying for an hour. Er… do you want those off now?"

Cody rolled his eyes. A fly landed on his nose and started to rub its forelegs together.

In hindsight, the question was stupid. I don't know why I'd assumed that a bandaged face had left him without a working tongue. But I had. So it wasn't really the question that was stupid, it was me. At that thought, I bit hard into my lower lip.

"Here." I flicked out my nails. The gauze was tied in the back, so I twisted myself awkwardly behind his chair. A few slits, a couple of tugs, and I lifted the strips away and wrapped them around my wrist. Cody started coughing. Heaving. Breathing. I slipped off the toilet seat, expecting that his first words were going to be, "That's a relief," or "Sweet, sweet air," or something else along those lines. Even, "Thanks, Heather". But instead, he surprised me.

"Dude, why did Courtney tell me good-bye? We haven't even had the elimination ceremony yet."

I pushed open the confessional door, righting the camera as it swayed again. "Maybe because she knows you just rendered yourself useless in all upcoming challenges and it's clear that- Aaugh!"

I'd made the mistake of turning around, putting myself nose-to-nose with Cody's unbandaged face for the first time. Cody blinked at me for a moment, sending a fly on his eyelid into the air, then lowered his gaze to his lap.

"That bad, huh?"

[Cnt'd on dA / FFN / AO3 - Links at top]

[lovemesomesurveys]

Do you have a large dog? If not, are you afraid of them? No, my doggo is more on the medium side. I'm not afraid of large dogs by default, but I get scared if they try to jump up. I'm in a wheelchair, so when they do that they are taller than me and it's just intimidating even if they're just being playful and excitable.

Has anyone ever told you that they loved you, and you didn’t say it back? Yeah. I'm not one to just throw those words around, I say it to those I really mean it. It's awkward when someone says it and I don't say it back, but I just don't feel comfortable saying it.

Who is your favorite photographer? I don't have one.

Were you shy in high school? Yes. I've always been shy.

Did the last guy/girl you kissed have any piercings? No.

Do you actually love your parents? More than anything.

Do you know anyone autistic? Yes.

Do you like your girlfriend’s/boyfriend’s parents? ---

Do you like Polaroid photography? I do.

Who was the last family member of yours that died? One of my uncles.

Do you have any gay family members? Yes.

Would you be upset if you caught your boyfriend looking at porn? Meh, I don't think so.

What is your favorite type of cat? I don't have one.

Who of the opposite sex has seen you at your worst? My dad and brother.

Were you raised by someone other than your parents? No.

What’s the last chore you did? I've been basically bedridden for quite awhile, so it's been awhile since I've done any chores.

What is your favorite jungle animal? I don't have one.

Is your father injured? .No.

Are you part Native American? No.

What are your pets’ names? Princess Leia.

Have you ever worked two jobs? I've never worked any jobs.

What are the names of all the dogs you’ve ever owned? .Buster, Scruffy, Brandie, and Princess Leia.

Would you ever get a face tattoo? No.

Who in life have you felt the strongest need to protect? I'm always way more concerned about my family.

What is the cruelest thing a person has ever said to you? Meh.

Who have you most feared in your life? Not a who, but a what. I've had my struggles.

What is your strongest reason for your opinion on abortion? --

What one natural thing would you most like to see? The Northern Lights.

Do you like the game Tetris? Nah.

What’s the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done? .I'm not a rebel lol.

Have you ever wanted to be a model? No.

Do you like your name how it’s spelled? Yeah.

Who was your first online friend? I don't recall, that was so long ago. I've been online since like 1998/1999.

Your last ex: how did you two get together? We met throgh a mutual friend.

Does your mom dye her hair? Yeah.

What’s the best kind of video game? (Adventure, shooting, etc) Mario Brother kind.

Do you know anyone who has road rage? Yes.

Have you ever had a controlling boyfriend/girlfriend? No.

Have you ever tried to break up anyone because YOU liked the guy/girl? Nooo.

Do you draw fanart of anything? No, I have zero talent.

What was the last music video you watched? Did you like it? I don't even remember.

What’s a condition you have that you haven’t been officially diagnosed with? >> autism

Which one of your parents do you think is smarter? Both of them are smart,

Have you ever supported anyone’s Kickstarter? If so, what was it? No.

What band has the power to make you cry by splitting up? Well, they didn't split up but Chester died and that was just devastating and obviously so much worse. I'm so sad I never got to see Linkin Park in concert and even though the remaining members still preform, it's not the same.

Can grills be sexy on a guy? I don't find grills sexy.

What’s your favorite comic book/graphic novel? I don't have one.

Do you prefer original or sour Skittles? Neither

Do you find it easy to pass the time or do you get really bored? Some days really seem to draaaaaag. Like today.

Have you ever been in a Catholic confessional? No. I'm not Catholic.

Who was the last non-relative you rode in a vehicle with? Well, I had 2 relatives in the car with me, but there also was my brother's boyfriend in the car.

What was the title of the last song you listened to? I'm blanking at the moment.

Who is the lead singer of your favorite band? Chester Bennington.

Do you expect to be married in the next 2 years? HA, no. I'll still be single as fuck.

Have you ever had an allergic reaction to an insect? Just the usual reaction we all get, nothing serious.

Who IMed you on Facebook last? My friend, Tara.

Is there an item that you bought on a whim, but now consider it a crucial part of your life and you would or have purchased it again? I am sure of it, but of course I can't think of an example right now.

What flags do you have in your room, if any? None.

What was the last thing you ate? Taco Bell proved their love for me and brought back their rolled chicken tacos again. I just came home from the hospital a week ago, so the timing couldn't have been better.

What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? We don't really experience any where I live, thankfully.

Do you or your parents rake your yard? My dad does all that.

If you’re not straight, who was the first person you came out to? --

Where did you meet the last person you swapped numbers with? I don't recall who I last swapped numbers with other than various medical people.

Who was the last person to add you as a friend on Facebook? Some random person, who I denied. I only add people I know.

[tivytail]

for my ridonculous race season!! doing it with some discord friends so I decided to draw one of the teams since their so different! also these guys make it extremely far in the race! that’s what we have planned for them! who knows they might win!

so without further ado let me explain!

alejandro (17):

- never went on total drama

- is wheelchair bound ( does have its advantages and disadvantages ) lost his mobility in a different way )

- would only have wyatt williams (6teen) as a friend.

- he lost his mobility due to their father ignacio , in efforts for carlos to stay home to take care of the family. ( alejandro was around 10 - 11 when he lost his mobility. ) it’s never specified how or why though, nobody really knows how he lost his mobility except for Ignacio.

- he’s still a prodigy. just took online classes.

- often stayed inside when he was wheelbound and watched the other kids play.

- has a healthy relationship with josé

- he really hopes he can make some friends.

- he has a whole personality shift, if it wasn’t obvious. very friendly and caring.

carlos (27) :

- Never left home, ended up staying home to help take care of his brothers and mother.

- No baby :( ( discord thingz )

- He's protective of his little brother but still has that Burromuerto charm. You can gain his trust by befriending Alejandro

- has a healthy relationship with josé.

[side note] since alejandro wasn’t in world tour or allstars we have fixed an elimination order and have replaced a couple of contestants so here’s the elimination order for both seasons. written by my friend Cody and worked on by me and them!

world tour.

1: Duncan (bc yknow)

2: Bridgette (Harold pushed into a pole. Got stuck.)

3: DJ (Self Sacrifice)

4: Cody (God he sucks at DDR, he looked horrid in the Hosen. Confessional door already broken.)

5: Sierra (Sobbing over Cody)

6: Owen (Slowed down time, significantly)

7: Izzy (Didn't catch Ezekiel, and instead Izadora was fronting and caught Noah)

8: Harold (Wings melted & he died/j)

9: Heather (Got abducted. Went bald again)

10: Eva (way 2 angry bro)

11: Leshawna (bad captain, power went 2 her head)

MERGE

12: Brought in Harold and Justin back, Gwen (Being pissy about the wedding dress)

Newly Weds lmao:

Noah & Tyler

Gwen & Courtney

Lindsay & Harold

Brody & Justin

13: Courtney (Double Elimination)

14: Harold (Double Elimination

15: Lindsay (Really really bad aim, manages 2 hit every1 but the animal)

16: Justin (Mirror reflects light right onto the plane's fuel tank. He lost some hair that day)

17: Brody (Lost the tiebreaker against Tyler)

18/19: Noah & Tyler.

Doesn't matter who won, they split the moneyz w/ each other.

allstars:

1: Staci (keeps singing stacy's mom has got it going on)

2: Zoey (She keeps droppin' shit)

3: Justin (Bro didn't want 2 get his body ruined)

4: Noah (Can't force himself 2 eat the pancakes. Sensory issues. Emetophobia Also really baked)

5: Lindsay (dropped eggs. so many eggs)

6: Dawn (Wouldn't fight)

MERGE

7: Owen (oh god he can't swim oh god oh fu)

8: Brick (scared of the dark </3)

9: Gwen (Due 2 injury)

10: Mal (he made a real shitty sundae)

11: Tyler (...same reason as Gwen in All Stars)

12: Lightning (Too much shas)

13/14: Courtney & Scott

Scott winz like a swag gamer.

The 2 broke up on swag terms.

Scott used the money 2 buy more dirt

- thank you guys for listening!!

[cleverwordsandotherstuffilike]

How many other moments like that had I missed or failed to grasp?

There was a time in my life twenty years ago when I was driving a cab for a living.

It was a cowboy’s life, a gambler’s life, a life for someone who wanted no boss, constant movement and the thrill of a dice roll every time a new passenger got into the cab.

What I didn’t count on when I took the job was that it was also a ministry.

Because I drove the night shift, my cab became a rolling confessional. Passengers would climb in, sit behind me in total anonymity and tell me of their lives.

We were like strangers on a train, the passengers and I, hurtling through the night, revealing intimacies we would never have dreamed of sharing during the brighter light of day. I encountered people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, made me laugh and made me weep.

And none of those lives touched me more than that of a woman I picked up late on a warm August night.

I was responding to a call from a small brick four-plex in a quiet part of town. I assumed I was being sent to pick up some partiers, or someone who had just had a fight with a lover, or someone going off to an early shift at some factory for the industrial part of town.

When I arrived at the address, the building was dark except for a single light in a ground-floor window.

Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a short minute, then drive away. Too many bad possibilities awaited a driver who went up to a darkened building at 2:30 in the morning.

But I had seen too many people trapped in a life of poverty who depended on the cab as their only means of transportation.

Unless a situation had a real whiff of danger, I always went to the door to find the passenger. It might, I reasoned, be someone who needs my assistance. Would I not want a driver to do the same if my mother or father had called for a cab?

So I walked to the door and knocked.

“Just a minute,” answered a frail and elderly voice. I could hear the sound of something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman somewhere in her 80s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like you might see in a costume shop or a Goodwill store or in a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The sound had been her dragging it across the floor.

The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

“Would you carry my bag out to the car?” she said. “I’d like a few moments alone. Then, if you could come back and help me? I’m not very strong.”

I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm, and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.

“It’s nothing,” I told her. “I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated.”

“Oh, you’re such a good boy,” she said. Her praise and appreciation were almost embarrassing.

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, “Could you drive through downtown?”

“It’s not the shortest way,” I answered.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said. “I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.”

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.

“I don’t have any family left,” she continued. “The doctor says I should go there. He says I don’t have very long.”

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. “What route would you like me to go?” I asked.

For the next two hours we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighbourhood where she and her husband had lived when they had first been married. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she would have me slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, “I’m tired. Let’s go now.”

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. Without waiting for me, they opened the door and began assisting the woman. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her; perhaps she had phoned them right before we left.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase up to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

“How much do I owe you?” she asked, reaching into her purse.

“Nothing,” I said.

“You have to make a living,” she answered.

“There are other passengers,” I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held on to me tightly.

“You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,” she said. “Thank you.”

There was nothing more to say.

I squeezed her hand once, then walked out into the dim morning light. Behind me, I could hear the door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I did not pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the remainder of that day, I could hardly talk.

What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? What if I had been in a foul mood and had refused to engage the woman in conversation?

How many other moments like that had I missed or failed to grasp?

We are so conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unawares.

When that woman hugged me and said that I had brought her a moment of joy, it was possible to believe that I had been placed on earth for the sole purpose of providing her with that last ride.

I do not think that I have ever done anything in my life that was any more important.

By Kent Nerburn Adapted from “Make me an Instrument of Your Peace” Reproduced on Zen Moments with the author’s kind permission. Revised and edited in May 2012, at the author’s request, to accord with the original.

[dracoignisworld]

for the prompts: I’ve always loved you pls

Always you

Even from a distance, Daenerys recognised the broody stranger standing before the tombstone. Jon Snow, she thought, and she clenched the bouquet of roses to her chest as his pale, grey eyes met her stare from across the graveyard, and so my past catches up to me.

How long had it been? Daenerys couldn’t pinpoint the last time they’d spoken, but as she approached, she could see the passing years on his face. The Jon she remembered was young and his chin was smooth. This Jon sported a rough beard, and his eyes were framed by crow’s feet. He was huddled up in a brown trench coat, his hands deeply embedded in its pockets. As she stopped a few feet away from him, he tugged himself free and waved at her.

Daenerys hesitated. Then she waved back.

“Hey,” he called.

“Hi,” she replied. The breeze rustled in the nearby trees. As the autumn wind swept past them, Daenerys wished she could be blown away with the dry leaves never to be seen again. She had come to find peace - not to face the confessional. The nervous look on Jon’s face told her that he’d been caught off guard too. It was the only thing that made her stand her ground and face him, her back straight, her eyes confident. Inside, however, she was trembling.

“Hey,” he said again after a pause. “It’s been a while, huh?”

“It has,” Daenerys replied.

“You look good,” Jon said.

Daenerys, knowing very well that she was clad in an oversized jumper and dirty jeans, her hair a knotted mess underneath her beanie, merely said: “Thanks.” She eyed his coat, his shined shoes, his golden watch. “You look,” rich, well-off, handsome, “good too.”

“Thanks,” Jon replied.

Daenerys’ eyes fell on the grave. Amongst last week’s wilted flowers and the half-burned candles from the church shop, a single blue rose had been placed. It looked to have been cast of silver and painted. She pointed to it. “Is that from you?”

“Dad always spoke of blue roses. Never got that they don’t exist.”

“They do. If you travel far enough north.”

Jon shook his head. “I’ve been,” he said, “they don’t exist.”

Daenerys reached over and placed her bouquet around the rose. Next to the fake one, her real flowers seemed pale and tired, their pink petals like a soft backdrop to the blue paint. She had to stop herself from frowning. Instead, she crossed her arms for heat and peered up at Jon. Standing this close, she could smell him; cologne, and warmth, and coffee. “What brought you back?” she asked.

Jon pointed to the tombstone. “The anniversary.”

“Mhm, I don’t think so.” Daenerys cocked her head to the side as she watched him. “You’ve missed most of them before.”

“Alright, many things have brought me back,” Jon admitted.

“That’s awfully specific.”

Jon laughed. “It’s complicated,” he said and scratched his nape. He looked down at her. His grey eyes were curious. “I’m surprised to see you,” he said, “still living in this village.”

“Why? We can’t all just pack up and leave for the city,” Daenerys replied before she could stop herself. As Jon’s smile faded, she feigned interest in her wellingtons. She kicked the ground. “Mum can’t take care of Dad on her own. I’m helping her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I like it here,” she said, the lie easily slipping off her lips. She’d spoken it so many times to so many people that she could almost believe it to be the truth; that Daenerys Targaryen, straight A student who graduated with honours, was satisfied spending her twenties grocery shopping her her mum and rolling her dad home from the pub when he got too drunk to control his wheelchair.

You’re a good girl, Daenerys reminded herself, and good girls do what they need to do, not what they want to do. Although, eyeing Jon’s smart getup, she found it hard to rid herself of the tinge of envy that had started growing in her chest.

Daenerys cleared her throat. She tried to come up with something to say. She said the first thing that came to her mind: “You look good, though.”

Jon smiled. “You said that already.”

“I did?” Daenerys could feel her cheeks growing warm. “Well, I guess it’s true, then. The city must be treating you well.”

“Well enough,” Jon admitted, “though I’ve not really been around much. My company makes me travel all the time.”

Oh, how I would love your problems, Daenerys thought, but out loud she said: “Sounds tiring.”

“It is a bit. Can you imagine waking up in a new city every day? You forget what having a home feels like.”

“Mhm, I never forget,” Daenerys replied, thinking back on how her dad woke her up that morning, insisting that she make him a full English breakfast before sunrise. Then, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine waking up and looking out the window and seeing the Eiffel Tower instead, or the Colosseum, or the Brandenburg Gate. A new city every day, she thought, it sounds like a dream.

Jon shivered next to her. The wind dragged at his curly hair. “I miss him,” he suddenly said.

Daenerys blinked up at him. As she didn’t reply immediately, he nodded at the tombstone and continued:

“My dad. I miss him.”

“I miss him too,” Daenerys replied. It was like she could finally see through the glamour of Jon, and the pain in his eyes struck her as raw. She pushed her hands around his arm and pulled him close to her, squeezing his arm. “He was a good man.”

“I sometimes feel like he was the only man I could ever talk to. He understood me. He never judged. He just listened.”

Daenerys eyed the year on the stone. 2010. It had been ten years since he died. She had just turned sixteen. There were still leftovers of her birthday cake in the fridge the day they held the funeral. In the night, she ate every slice, sobbing and stuffing herself until she was sick into the kitchen sink. She couldn’t fathom death then. She still couldn’t now. There were days when she looked at her dad, angry and vile as he was, and she wondered if the wrong man had been claimed.

“I’m sorry,” Daenerys said, peering up at Jon’s pained expression. “I shouldn’t- earlier, I shouldn’t have said about the anniversary. It’s not a contest about how often you come. It must be hard for you to return.”

Jon shook his head. “It’s not that,” he said. She could see how his grey eyes were turning wet. He wiped them off in the sleeve of his coat before the tears could reach his cheeks. “As said, it’s complicated.”

They stood in silence watching the grave. The wind grew stronger. As it started howling between the tombstones, Daenerys pressed herself closer to Jon, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, hugging her into his coat. “I should head home,” she said. She didn’t move.

“Just a minute longer,” Jon begged.

Daenerys’ nails dug between the buttons of his coat, sunk into the softness of his jumper. “Okay,” she said, “just a minute.”

Jon reached over and stroked a lock of silver hair that had escaped from her beanie. As the strands slipped between his fingers, he said: “Dad gave me that rose.”

“Mhm?” Daenerys mumbled.

Jon pointed to the grave. “He gave me that silver rose. I was fifteen, and I told him I’d fallen in love with someone but I wasn’t sure what to do. So he gave me that and said: love is as special as a blue rose. When you find it, nothing can compare. I thought he was nuts.”

Daenerys chuckled. “He’s always been a romantic.”

“It took me years to understand what he meant.” Jon fell silent.

Daenerys peered up at him and, when she met his eyes, felt her stomach flutter with excitement. He was staring right down at her, a gentleness reflected in the grey colour that she hadn’t seen for years. Maybe never, she thought. It made her breathless. “Jon,” she whispered, “don’t say something you’ll regret.”

“I’ve travelled all over the place. There are no blue roses. It’s a fantasy. It’s an idea.”

“Jon,” Daenerys said again, her voice pleading with him.

Jon took in a deep breath. His arm around her shoulder guided her closer, made her tumble in her wellingtons until she was facing him, chest-to-chest. He looked down at her. She looked up at him. For a moment, time seemed to pause. “When you find it,” he said, his thumb brushing her cheek, “nothing can compare.” Then he kissed her.

Daenerys couldn’t even close her eyes. She just stared into Jon’s face as his warm lips pressed to hers, gently feeling her, softly tasting her. When he pulled back, she was still staring. Her mouth felt full of words and empty at the same time. She was worried that if she started speaking, she wouldn’t be able to stop. So she didn’t say anything at all.

“I’ve been such a fool,” Jon said, the regret thick in his voice. His brows were furrowed. He looked troubled. “He knew. All along he knew who I was in love with. He gave me that rose to spur me on, and look at me now - ten years later.” He paused. Then, he added: “Ten years too late.”

Daenerys swallowed. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him again. But, she reminded herself once more, you’re a good girl, and good girls do what they need to do, not what they want to do. “My mum,” she breathed, hands resting at Jon’s chest, partially pushing him away, partially drawing him closer, “my dad. They need me.”

“I know.”

“Why,” she paused. She swallowed. She asked: “Why now?”

Jon smiled a little. He brushed his thumb to her cheek again as he lifted her head, softly looking into her eyes. “I’m done running away. I want to be part of your life here. I’ll move here if that’s what I have to do.”

“I can’t let you do that to yourself,” Daenerys replied and shook her head. “It’s enough that I’m stuck here. I don’t want you to be stuck with me.”

“I’m not stuck - I’m choosing this life.”

“I didn’t!” Daenerys sent Jon a hopeless look. She shook her head and bitterly smiled. “I didn’t choose it, Jon. I don’t want it. I never wanted any of this. I want to travel, and be free, and experience the world just like you.” She let go of a shivering breath. Then, with all the strength she could muster, she forced herself to step away from him. “But I can’t. They rely on me. Too many people rely on me.”

“Just say you don’t love me, and I’ll be gone,” Jon pleaded, his face twisted in anguish.

Daenerys stared at him, and for once it was the truth that slipped from her lips easily when she said: “I have always loved you.” It was a truth long hidden away. Something she’d known but been afraid to speak and now, as she said it, it felt like the most natural thing to her. She loved Jon. Of course she loved him; as kids playing, and as teenagers hanging out, and as adults apart, oceans between them, nothing to them but a memory. Even then it was you, she thought, her hand clenching to her chest as she tried to calm her heart down, it was always you.

“Then what do we do?” Jon asked. He took her hands in his, turning her soft, cold palms between his own warm ones. “If one must stay and one must go - what do we do?”

Five years later

It was dark by the time Daenerys returned home. She walked through the hallway quietly, careful not to wake up her dad. She could hear him snoring. She hoped her mum had remembered to wear earplugs to bed. Up the stairs she went and into the bathroom, undressing and cleaning herself down after a long day of work. She was tired. Her body ached. By the time she slipped into bed, she almost fell asleep right away.

Jon’s arm closed around her. He drew her close. “Welcome back,” he muttered, placing a wet kiss on her forehead. “How was Berlin?”

“Wonderful,” Daenerys replied.

“Where next?”

“Italy. But not until next week.” Her hands closed at his face, and she gently brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes as she smiled at him. “How have they been?”

“Rhaella made a cake. Aerys ate it all before it cooled. Had to take him to the hospital. She scolded him the whole way.”

“Mhm, sounds like you’ve had fun.” She placed a wet kiss to his nose before snuggling into his hold. Before she could ask anything else, he was back asleep, his snoring rolling through his body.

Daenerys threw one last tired look over his shoulders, watching the silver rose in the windowsill as it glimmered in the moonlight. And she thought: When you find it, nothing can compare. In Jon’s arms, she knew it to be the truth.

--

Hope you liked it anon! Thanks for the prompt!

[finicky-finnick]

Finnick might have voted YES for another Hunger Games

I know this might be an unpopular opinion, but during my recent reread of THG trilogy it struck me that Finnick might actually have voted ‘yes’ to another Hunger Games had he lived in order to protect Annie (and possibly also himself, although I don’t think he cares much about his own physical safety) from Coin.

Annie says that Finnick would vote no if he were there. I do not doubt for even a second the truth of that statement if the vote were solely about his personal convictions. I am in no way saying Finnick personally wanted another Hunger Games. But I still think there is a possibility he might have voted with Coin. 

This is going to get long. Apologies. 

First of all, there is evidence early on in Mockingjay that Finnick has Coin’s number. You can see this when he and Katniss watch the Distirct 8 hospital bombing propo. Finnick’s political awareness and strategic intelligence are on full display. The most striking part of the scene is how quickly his mind works. 

What happens is this: an interview with Peeta comes on right after the rebel propo about the Distict 8 hospital bombing. Finnick and Katniss watch it. Peeta is in very bad shape. He implores Katniss to stop making propos, asks if she can trust the rebels, insists she is being manipulated into being a cause of death and destruction.

Finnick presses the button on the remote that kills the power. In a minute, people will be here to do damage control on Peeta’s condition and the words that came out of his mouth. I will need to repudiate them. But the truth is, I don’t trust the rebels or Plutarch or Coin. I’m not confident that they tell me the truth. I won’t be able to conceal this. Footsteps are approaching. 

Finnick grips me hard by the arms. “We didn’t see it.”

“What?” I ask. 

“We didn’t see Peeta. Only the propo on Eight. Then we turned the set off because the images upset you. Got it?” He asks. I nod. “Finish your dinner.” 

And Finnick’s plan works. (“I pull myself together enough so that when Plutarch and Fulvia enter, I have a mouthful of bread and cabbage. Finnick is talking about how well Gale came across on camera. We congratulate them on the promo. Make it clear it was so powerful, we tuned out right afterward. They look relieved. They believe us.”)

This demonstrates that Finnick has Coin’s number while also demonstrating that he understands Katniss well enough to know she is not capable of playing the game she needs to in order to survive right now. He is in such bad shape mentally at this point that he “basically lives at the hospital” and yet he is sharp enough, astute enough, and quick enough to realise in a matter of seconds that: 

a) people will be checking on them any minute, 

b) Katniss will have to publicly respond to Peeta’s comments as well as assure Coin and Plutarch that she completely trusts them and the rebels if word gets out they saw Peeta, 

c) Katniss does NOT trust the rebels or D13 or Plutarch, and especially not Coin, 

d) Katniss is, in that moment, incapable of acting well enough to convince Coin and Plutarch that she does trust them, and 

e) the consequences of that would be bad, bad, bad. 

Therefore, it is highly likely that Finnick would be aware of the fact he and his loved ones are unsafe when it comes to Coin, and this knowledge would have been a factor in how he voted during the Games vote at the end of Mockingjay. 

In fact, he probably realised this a lot sooner than the Games vote. Finnick probably understood immediately that he was now expendable - and potentially a threat - the moment he laid eyes on Peeta, the newest member of the Star Squad. 

Katniss is a lot less politically astute than Finnick, so Boggs has to spell it out for her. 

“But you’ll throw support to someone. Would it be President Coin? Or someone else?” [Boggs says]

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it,” I say. 

“If your immediate answer isn’t Coin, then you’re a threat. You’re the face of the rebellion. You may have more influence than any other single person,” says Boggs. “Outwardly, the most you’ve ever done is tolerated her.”

“So she’ll kill me to shut me up.” The minute I say the words, I know they’re true.

“She doesn’t need you as a rallying point now. As she said, your primary objective, to unite the districts, has succeeded,” Boggs reminds me. “These current propos could be done without you. There’s only one last thing you could do to add fire to the rebellion.”

“Die,” I say quietly. 

“Yes. Give us a martyr to fight for,” says Boggs.

Boggs tells Katniss explicitly that Coin wants Katniss dead because whomever Katniss supports as the new leader of Panem is who the new leader will be.  Katniss has this amount of influence because she is “the face of the rebellion.” Aka she is extremely famous at this point - dare I say, as the Mockingjay, a living legend.

Who else is a living legend in Panem? Finnick. 

I think Finnick would have realised Coin might now consider him a potential threat the minute he understood that Coin saw Katniss as a threat, which I think he would have pieced together the moment Peeta joined Star Squad. While Katniss undoubtedly has the most sway over who will be Panem’s new leader, it is highly likely Finnick held some influence, too. He is one of the most famous people in all of Panem and is now famously a rebel due to the several propos he made. Being the Capitol Darling for 10 years probably limits how much political sway he has over the general public, and his mental breakdown in D13 probably lost him some credibility with the rebels. However, he probably gained quite a bit of credibility points and general influence after his powerful confessional propo that revealed Snow’s forced prostitution of the desirable victors, Snow’s deadly rise to power, and other salacious details about the other most powerful people in the Capitol. His primary use was his ability to turn the Capitol against Snow. Now that he’s accomplished that, he is expendable to Coin - just like Katniss. It just took longer for Katniss to become expendable than it did for Finnick. 

So Finnick would have  known he could not afford to give Coin the impression he did not support her fully and without hesitation. He had Coin’s number from pretty early on and has a sharp political mind. This leads us to the vote. 

If you look at the Victors who voted ‘no’, you realise the none of them have much influence over public opinion. Peeta (a ‘traitor’ due to his capitol tv spots during MJ, then an ‘evil Capitol mutt’ when returned hijacked) doesn’t have much influence. His credibility is shot. Annie, who has a very public reputation as the mad victor, also votes no. So does Beetee. Beetee has more credibility than Annie or Peeta with the public, but he is older, in a wheelchair, and not one of the most famous victors so he likely doesn’t hold much sway. He also cites political concerns for his vote, not moral objections, a move reminiscent of a wise advisor to a king. He also demonstrated his loyalty with the bombing of the Capitol that killed Prim.

So basically, the victors who vote against Coin are the ones who don’t pose a threat to Coin. Johanna and Enobaria vote yes out of a desire for revenge. The victors with more credibility and sway (Katniss, Haymitch) vote yes knowing that they can’t be seen to not support Coin (Kat) and knowing what Katniss is planning (Haymitch). 

I think Finnick would have known immediately what Katniss was planning, but I don’t think that would have any influence on his vote. 

Bottom line/TL;DR: I think he would have voted ‘yes’ to protect Annie. Because he would have known Coin might see him as a threat and his experience has taught him that presidents use his loved ones to punish him or keep him in line. He has seen the similarities between Coin and Snow from the beginning and has been given no reason to assume Coin will behave differently. 

[teamxdark]

Office AU is such a joy with all the shenanigans but I smell a sprinkle of angst here and there.

Oh yeah, definitely. I talked about it with @solalunar-eclipse a little bit earlier today, in fact! The whole Arthur/Lance/Guin situation was a lot more painful for both Lance and Guin. I figure that they were all friends/coworkers for a while before Arthur got promoted to branch manager and Guin knew about how Lancelot felt (catching him drafting a bunch of confessional emails and texts was a dead giveaway if nothing else), but when Guin was facing deportation and Arthur jumped in with a lifeline, she didn’t really have many options. She didn’t want to crush Lance but this was also her life and future on the line. Lancelot was not happy with her for a while and Guin apologised over and over and explained everything again and again until Lance told her that he needed space. They did make up eventually but... yeah it was a rough patch for them. Arthur also asked Lancelot to be the best man at his wedding and that was its own punch in the gut.

Lance probably figured out his feelings a lot sooner in this AU since he didn’t have the excuse of ‘he’s my king so feeling like this is normal’ to throw him off. He pined for maybe a decade before things fell into place, unlike the 3-4 months in ToA. Also unlike in ToA, Arthur dated, so that was fun for Lance to deal with as well. 

Also, thanks to the lack of magic, Gaheris is probably in a wheelchair and Gareth is probably fully deaf in one ear. Not sure what the cause of their accident was in this AU but an accident still definitely happened. They’re still going strong and doing great, though!

Something definitely happened to Tristan’s old home and it’s bad but I haven’t figured out exactly what it is.

Elaine is still very much not alive.

Geraint has still very much seen some shit and coped/adjusted terribly.

And if this truly is a Reincarnation AU, then Nimue is watching all of this happen again.

[elenajohansenreads]

Books I Read in 2020

#47 - The Memory of Running, by Ron McLarty

Mount TBR: 47/150

Rating: 1/5 stars

DNF at page 87. I cannot abide how grossly sexist and ableist this novel is. Our protagonist is a fat chain-smoking alcoholic. Most of the early chapters are devoted to repeating his actual weight, his feelings about his weight, how many cigarettes he smokes and just how much he drinks; as if that's a substitute for being an actual character. At one point, he also reminisces about how the only way he got through a hard time in his life was by being a jerk to everyone around him. I was already bored with him, but since I knew the point of the novel was his journey of self-discovery and improvement, I can see how he has to be a complete loser to start with. And that's not me fat-shaming him--the narrative is too busy doing that for me. His obesity is his personality. So first we have the underlying sexism inherent in thinking this loser, this utterly mediocre-or-worse man, is worth telling a story about. I don't see any evidence of that. But it gets worse, because nearly every female character so far in the book is defined by their breasts, their disabilities, or both. The only one to escape that is his mother, who was introduced immediately before she died and didn't get the breast assessment. The nurses at the hospital? Big breasts. Every woman he meets randomly? Big breasts. Every girl in every story he tells about the past? Big breasts. His neighbor who he played with as a child and meets again as an adult woman? Not so much about her breasts, but she does spend their entire first conversation with him defensively explaining how capable and clean and healthy she is despite her wheelchair. (That was a really uncomfortable scene, not just because of the insensitive treatment of the subject, but also because people simply don't talk that way. It was beyond stilted and awkward.) His sister? Again, not quite so much about her breasts, though one past story about how much the protagonist hated her junior prom date skates pretty close to inappropriate, talking about how hot she looked. No, she has more development, I'll admit, but it's entirely about her mental illness--she hears a voice that sometimes encourages her to go somewhere odd, take off her clothes, and hold strange poses. But that's all I know about her, so yeah, she's completely defined by that mental illness. I wanted to keep going until the actual plot of the story began, the bike-trip across the country that transforms him (somehow) into a better person. But I didn't make it that far, because soon after that childhood bike reenters his life, he passes out after riding it drunkenly a short (ie, non-cross-country) distance and wakes up near a community Little League game. The local Catholic priest was attending, and gets him to the hospital to get checked out, and takes him back to the church to rest afterward. The next scene is actually one of the worst things I've read in my life. The priest, who has literally just met the protagonist, goes on a long, winding, bitter confessional story about how he became attracted to a divorcee in his congregation and eventually asked her sexually explicit questions over the phone, which she started recording partway through and later used to get him into trouble. The priest is also a breast man, apparently, because this is one of the actual things he told the protagonist he said to the woman: "Why don't you, why don't you take off the rest of your clothes so your full, ripe breasts can cool off?" It's not even just that his behavior was inappropriate that bothers me. It's that the author thinks this is a story a priest would tell someone he's literally just met and knows nothing about. It's an echo of the same problem from the protagonist and his wheelchair-using neighbor: they're sitting on the porch together after his parents' memorial and apropos of nothing she's hyper-defensive about her disability, laboriously explaining her capabilities and routines. People don't talk that way. People don't immediately spill their secrets or explain their lives to near-strangers on a whim. Unless they're drunk at a bar and need to rant, but even then, these aren't the conversations they'd be having. I need a shower.

[thegoblinbee]

man, i can understand how it might be kinda hard to love a girl like me...

Every now and then, I stumble on the photo I took of my forearms when I got home from psych after I slit them open. I didn’t so much slit my wrists as I did my entire arms. The cool kids say cut vertically, lay the whole vein open, so I tried, with a blunted blade, sawing the pale, pale flesh open, seven slices total, all several inches long, yet I only hit the vein once. How’s that for shit aim?

It’s a hideous photo – cruddy spots where the tape was peeled off, the stitches large and black, 42 in total – a number I share with Marya Hornbacher, eerily enough, a writer who I found after I was shockingly compared to her years and years ago, -- my too-white skin glowing against them.

Yet for some reason, chilling as it is, I long to have someone to show it to, and I don’t know why. There is a confessional streak in me a mile long, obviously, that’s no secret. Soul-baring is how I survive. I’m an exhibitionist on that way-down--deep-in-the-soul level, see, to the root of me. That’s how desperately I crave to be seen. Really seen, mind you, all the way down to the guts.

Because I hated for those wounds to be seen for shock value, to scratch that crane-your-neck-at-the-car-crash itch. It happened to me for the first time the first day I was inpatient. The low-end-twentysomething tech – a too-beautiful boy with a goofy sense of humor and way too much cockiness – asked to see my arms so I peeled the bandages back, let him look.

He freaked out, gasped, said, “Holy shit!” then backed away in revulsion, his hand held up to his curled lips. Apparently me and my roommate who hung herself were a little more extreme than what they usually dealt with. Rather than the psych ward, I was put in a place that also detoxes addicts, its population consisting of a fairly even mix of them and suicidal women who haven’t gotten nearly as far as we got.

Yet somehow they got hit with the two of us and a kid who shot himself in the head all at the same time.

He wore a helmet, was confined to a wheelchair. Right-handed and lost control of the right side of his body. I filled out his worksheets for him while we did group, trying to learn how to love ourselves from an overworked, under-qualified nurse who didn’t know any of our names.

So when I say I want someone to show it to, know that I mean that in a very, very specific way. But I still think ultimately it is an unhealthy urge. I have always tended toward the shocking. I clearly still do, considering how I’ve been writing lately. I am a full-frontal-assault type of girl. It has been absolute hell, being that girl. But I can’t seem to be any other type. Even with my personality splintered into a hall of mirrors, I can’t fucking be any other girl but the type who hammers her love and her life right into your fucking face and I hate it, God how I hate it.

I don’t know how to draw conclusions. This is my fatal flaw both in life and as a writer. I shrug and say, “That’s all I have to say for now, see ya,” then wander off, forcing you to do the work of resolving the narrative. I am who you want me to be until suddenly I’m not and never am again. I always have been, I fear I always will be.

Oh look, there’s that word again.

[yhwhrulz]

Today's Daily Encounter 7th June 2021

Little Moments of Joy

“Therefore, whenever we have the opportunity, we should do good to everyone — especially to those in the family of faith.”1

A taxi driver shared the following words:

Because I drive the night shift, my cab often becomes a moving confessional. I encounter people whose lives amaze me, some ennoble me, others make me laugh and sometimes make me weep. However, none touched me more than a woman I picked up late one August night.

Responding to a call from a small brick fourplex in a quiet part of town, I assumed I was being sent to pick up some partiers or a worker heading to an early shift at some factory in the industrial part of town.

When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, then drive away.

Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always go to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So, I walked to the door and knocked.

"Just a minute", answered a frail, elderly voice. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her late 80s stood before me. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.

"Would you carry my bag to the car?" she asked. I took the bag and then turned to assist her. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness. "It’s nothing", I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated."

"Oh, you’re such a good boy", she said.

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"

"It’s not the shortest way," I quickly answered.

"Oh, I don’t mind," she said. "I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice."

I looked in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were glistening. "I don’t have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don’t have very long."

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She also had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

As the first hint of the sun creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I’m tired. Let’s go now."

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were concerned and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.

"Nothing," I replied.

"You have to make a living," she answered.

"There are other passengers," I responded and almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.

She held onto me tightly. "You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you!"

I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life. I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought.

What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? I don’t think I’ve done anything more important in my life.2

We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. However, great moments often catch us unaware - beautifully wrapped in what others may consider as small insignificant moments. Let us always be ready to share kindness with those God places in our path.

Suggested prayer: Dear God, there is such a great lack of love and kindness in our world today. Many times, we rush from here to there thinking only of our schedules and interests. I ask that you give me your eyes to see the opportunities where I can share kindness and little moments of joy with others, and in so doing lead others to you. Thank you for hearing and answering my prayer. In Jesus’ name, amen.

1, Galatians 6:10 (NLT).

2. www.sermoncentral.com

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for all your sins and His invitation for a full pardon

Click on: http://www.actsweb.org/invitation.php. Or

if you would like to re-commit your life to Jesus Christ,

please click on http://www.actsweb.org/decision.php to note this.

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[pjstafford]

The Messengers. A Review of All Souls. Blog 45 of the Disability in the World of the X Files Series.

All Souls depends on some of the worst disability tropes in storytelling. The “special” ambassadors from God trope tend to make individuals with disabilities passive vessels for God to teach the “normal” humility and an appreciation for the benefits of being normal. The other trope is the sometimes a person is better off dead trope which has already been portrayed in other X-Files episodes. While there is much to appreciate in this unofficial third parter to the Christmas Carol and Emily storyline, including seeing Scully struggle with her religious faith and her ongoing grief over her lost child, the imagery of young quadruplets girls with significant impact of disability as the messengers of God is unfortunate. The fact that only the death of the first child is really mourned is, also, unfortunate. It is an interesting aspect to consider the different situations of the four girls in terms of how society treats those with disabilities. Another interesting aspect is the underlying theme throughout the X Files of “belief” and whether those who believe have mental illness. In this episode it is the belief in God which is ridiculed by the disbeliever, Mulder.

The cold open shows a Priest visiting a home to baptize a teenage girl with significant impact of physical disability. As the priests baptises ,the girls father lifts her out of her wheelchair for the ceremony. Later that evening, the girl gets out of bed and walks outside, down the street. She has six toes on each of her feet. When she approaches a dark figure, she falls to her knees in genuflection. Her father finds her, dead, the orbs of her eyes burnt out, and frozen in rigor mortis in genuflection. This is strong imagery and sets up what we know will be a horror story based on the darker tales of Christianity.

The next scene is Scully in a confessional admitting that she let an innocent girl die when she might have saved her life. The next few scenes show how Scully gets involved in the case. We discover that the dead girl was adopted. First situation of a child with disabilities portrayed here is that a child can live in a loving, caring home.

We see the second child in a different situation. She is identical to the first girl with a similar impact of disability. She is living in an institutional setting. We see the first confrontation between the two main “monsters” of this episode: the priest who wants to adopt the child and the social worker who is holding up the adoption on a technicality. Somehow we know these men represent good and evil, but we don’t know which is which. Of course the second girl ends up with the same fate as the first.

As Scully is investigating the crime scene, Mulder arrives to inform her there are two more siblings and to offer the opinion that the murderer is a bonafide, super crazy, religious wacko. After visiting the Priest in the church, where he tells Scully the girls are messengers, Mulder describes the Priest as paranoid. Scully ask if he is ruling out any possibility of the supernatural. That scene ends with Mulder saying that God may have his reasons but he uses psychotics to carry out his job orders.

The third sibling, still disabled but with less of an impact of disability, is in a third situation persons with disabilities sometimes find themselves -homeless. Mulder finds her. He brings the social worker. Also the Priest finds the girl. She is found in the same condition as the first two girls. The priest is arrested. In questioning the Priest, Mulder says when you talk to God it’s a prayer, but when God talks to you it’s schizophrenia.

Mulder goes to the last known address of the fourth girl. This shows the fourth situation. The girl is not there. Her room had been in a locked basement where she slept on the floor and lived in filth. The man (foster father?) only concern is that the disability checks kept coming. He had given her to the Priest (who in an earlier scene has died in a mysterious way while in custody in a locked room). Scully goes to the church to find the girl. The social worker follows (we now know he is the evil) but he cannot come inside the church. Scully finds the last girl who, again, does not seem to have as great of an impact of disability as the first two girls. As the social worker orders Scully to bring the child to him, a bright light appears in the front of the church. The girl walks towards the light. Scully tries to stop her but has an image of her dead child Emily saying, “let me go, mommy, please.” And Scully let’s the girl go. When the bright light is gone the girl is dead in the same manner as the other girls.