#you have a ruthless single-mindedness.

[wri0thesley]

arranged marriage jing yuan.....

[natasha-in-space]

Cruel Miracle

Saeyoung/gn!reader;

'Be careful what you wish for' is a saying Saeyoung never thought much about, not before meeting you. Perhaps, that is because he never wished for anything but Saeran's happiness. Is he allowed to dream of more? Unfortunately, the universe has already decided that for him. (Canon school ver. Saeyoung/reader thingy I wrote, done from his own perspective!)

If Saeyoung was asked to point out the one thing that he first took notice of about you, it would be your eyes. Regardless of the way you may have behaved in front of those happily bustling about around you, regardless of the countless masks you've carefully put on and off day after day, your eyes perceived the world with nothing but gracefulness and gentle warmth swirling deep within your thoughtful gaze. A gaze that has pulled him into you from the very moment you looked up at him from your desk for the very first time. And he noticed it all as he stood there, being forced to make a painfully awkward introduction to the group of complete strangers by the sickeningly cheery professor pushing him onward, despite his numerous grumblings and protests.

It was stupid, naive, downright childish even. Something that just could not happen to someone like him in the reality his life had become from the moment he decided to part ways with Saeran. And yet... His stubborn heart refused to listen to the cold reason his mind has meticulously established to keep his fragile soul intact. And, only to add more fuel to the fire that was leading up to an inevitable disaster, he could feel you staring at him constantly.  

He hated how amusing he found it to catch you eyeing him and watching, as you would quickly turn your burning face away from him, pretending like it was nothing more than a mere coincidence on your part. Well, unbeknownst to you, you were a really bad liar. But... All about this was wrong from the very beginning. And try as he might, this heavy cloud of fear and paranoia would drift over him just as quickly as the first tiny rays of sunshine would sneak through the dense shadows enveloping all that his eyes could see.

This is not how life works for someone like him.

He cannot allow himself to form any close connections and thus put not only himself but the people he grows attached to in the process at mortal risk. He cannot allow himself to leave even a single noticeable trace to remember him by. He cannot allow himself... to simply exist in this daily life filled with nothing but small mundane troubles as normal people do. Because he is not normal, and he could never dream of having even a semblance of a normal life, to begin with.

He is a mere shadow, and that's all he can ever be. Dreaming of something more than that will only torment him. Truth is, you were from two completely different worlds. One made of nothing but cold and darkness, and one filled with warmth from the gentle light shining down from above. And he could not allow his ugly, ruthless world to taint yours bright and hopeful one. No, instead, he will push these stupid feelings of his as far away as humanely possible, shove them into the deepest corners of his mind, and simply watch you from afar for as long as he's allowed to do that. That much, he can live with.

At least, that is what he had initially planned on doing.

"I know you found it hard to adjust here Chilyoung... But I have the utmost confidence in your abilities and Y/N's open-mindedness to create a winning team between the two of you. I picked them out of everybody to be your partner for a good reason, you know." He could only bite onto his lower lip as the professor spoke, refusing to listen to any of his requests to just let him work on this godforsaken project by himself. The pen he was clutching in his hand was starting to tap rapidly at the surface of the desk, picking up the pace the longer he sat there.

"I don't need to participate in any team-building activities."

"Even if you are staying with us for only one year in an advanced program, that doesn't mean you have to isolate yourself from everyone." She didn't even look up at him from her stack of papers, only making him feel more irritated with her persistence to keep pushing through his demands to pull him out of this. This woman was too stubborn for her own good. "You are a very smart and capable boy. But, you can't achieve much by being a lone wolf all of your life. You need to put yourself out there and find a support system that is going to bring you up when you fall down. I simply believe that you and Y/N can become good friends if you just give them a chance."

"Shouldn't I have the freedom to decide that for myself, Ms. Brown?" He said through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to just get up and leave right then and there. "Just because I didn't make friends with anyone here, doesn't mean I don't have them outside of my studies."

It felt bitter, saying all of these empty statements as if anything he came up with on a whim was really true. Not only did he lack any friends or close acquaintances, but he also lacked the freedom to decide anything for himself. So, really, he was saying the complete opposite of the truth here.

How foul.

"Well, then I will be very happy for you." She smiled, finally raising her gaze to take a good look at him. Though, much to his disappointment, he saw no signs of her giving up any time soon. "But, this is still a group project by default. I already made an exception for you by allowing you to work in a pair rather than in a group. I won't allow you to work alone on this assignment."

Not much he could say or do to change these unfortunate circumstances. All he could do was do what he always did best.

Accept and adjust.

~~~

Saeyoung rested his chin on the palm of his hand as he watched you type, your eyes squinting adorably, all of your attention focused solely on the task at hand. A part of him felt guilty, seeing how hard you were trying to make this work despite his stubborn attempts to shut you out. No matter how distant or abrasive he became, you never got angry with him, never gave up, never left. God only knows why... Someone like you deserved so much better than this.

Still, you just kept on smiling at him, offering him snacks, asking about his interests, and trying to help him in whatever way you possibly could. He already told you that there was no real need for you to work on this project together. He could do it all alone, and you would never have to worry about getting a bad grade. Much to his disappointment, though, you adamantly refused to accept this convenient deal of his, insisting on working together and sharing your workload fairly between yourselves.

Just what were you thinking in that odd head of yours?

In truth, he was finished with his half of today's assignment about an hour ago. If he was to be thinking rationally, he should have left long ago by now, leaving you to finish up by yourself. Instead, however, he found himself simply observing you without saying a single word, his eyes carefully reading into every little move you made. Why were you so eager to work on this meaningless project with someone like him? It's not like it's so important for you to put all your blood sweat and tears into it. Some really stupid part of him hoped longingly, that it was because of him. Really, it was obvious to see that you were interested in him, be it as a mere friend or something more. He simply pretended like he didn't have a clue about your feelings.

What stung most of all, was the fact that his refusal to acknowledge it was as closest as he could ever get to accepting your affections. This was already much more than he could possibly allow. If he did confront you about it... It would be the end of your relationship altogether. He would have to leave and never turn back, for both of your sakes.

And, even if he'll have to do it eventually at the end of his program... He wanted to make the most of the little time he did have.

It was a bittersweet feeling at heart. Saeyoung could sense his thoughts wandering, those urges he usually ignored with relative success coming up on the front of his mind once again. He wanted to know how it would feel like to touch you. To put his hand on yours and watch your cheeks flush, just like they always did whenever he caught you staring at him. He wanted to make you smile and laugh until your eyes would start to water like your classmates had the privilege to do so. He wanted to know what makes you laugh the hardest and know that he's the one bringing you so much joy.

He wanted... to get closer to you. To know you. To be truthful with you. To open up to you.

But, such a miracle could never be brought into the cruel reality he lived in. No matter how innocent in nature his daydreams really were. The only way Saeyoung Choi could show his love for someone like you was by letting you go without hurting you. Without making you feel attached to him in any way.

So, then, why did his heart ache so much at the prospect of parting his ways with you...?

~~~

"-You're the one I like. That's... That's what I really wanted to talk to you about... I know you don't get along with anybody here, but I want to know more about you. And... I want you to know how much I care about you."

Oh, but the reality was always much crueler than he could ever imagine. It all felt like one big joke to him. He thought he had prepared himself for everything coming his way. He thought he was ready to let you go when the time came. He thought... He thought he could enjoy the time he did have with you without worrying about anything, for once in his life.

Was such a desire too selfish for him? Is this why the universe itself has decided to remind him of his proper place?

It... hurt. It hurt like hell.

Saeyoung has always felt grateful for every opportunity coming his way. He never took anything for granted and never regretted those decisions he knew in his heart were right. But, right now, in this very moment, as he heard you say those same words his naive heart longed for so firmly, he cursed this miracle with every fiber of his being.

For the very first time, he cursed his decision to throw his own right to exist in this world away. And, that realization hurt him almost just as much. Since, right after his initial burst of anger, came a crushing sense of shame, suffocating him from the inside. Shame for giving in to his personal desires and making you care for him so much. Shame for daring to look back on his decision to keep Saeran safe. Shame for being such a selfish human being to everyone he held dear in his heart.

It felt like his soul was being torn into pieces.

"You- No. No, you can't. This is... No."

He sounded angry, terrified, frustrated, heartbroken. Gone was the cold composure he has successfully kept up in front of everybody up to this day. Saeyoung could see the confusion, the hurt in your eyes, as you blinked at him at a complete loss for words. But, what hurt him most of all, was the genuine concern that was written so clearly on your gentle features. You still worried for him, and still reached out to him, just like you always did.

And, he had no choice but to throw it all away.

So, he ran. He ran from you, he ran from his own feelings and he ran from the cruel universe he had no choice but to oblige to.

[izzyspussy]

@fallenangelontheceiling asked:

What Tarot cards would you assign to your favorite Ted Lasso characters?

These aren't really necessarily my favorites, just the ones who have the strongest vibes that correlate to cards imo.

Ted: King of Cups emotionalism, self-control, acceptance, forgiveness, creative decision making / problem solving, intuition, and of course leadership and masculinity reversed: self-flagellation, emotional distance, repression, projection

Roy: King of Wands (+ The Lovers) passion, high energy, group-oriented leadership, single-mindedness, determination, earned respect, efficiency, directness, desire for a legacy, and masculinity reversed: hesitation to lead, controlling, poor communication, aggression, unrealistic expectations

Keeley: Queen of Wands (+ The Lovers) courage, determination, creativity, optimistic, goal-oriented, self-respect, friendliness, influence, belief in others, individuality & independence, leadership and femininity reversed: self-isolation (negative connotation), need for time alone (positive connotation), self-doubt

Jamie: The Devil (+ The Lovers) negative habits, instant gratification, overcoming outside control, painful secrets, shame, freedom, rebellion, willpower, conflicting influences, self-sufficiency, powerful emotional connection, confidence, sexuality, equally masculine and feminine reversed: incredible potential, letting go of limiting beliefs, personal transformation, confrontation, turning weaknesses into strengths

Rebecca: Queen of Swords mental clarity, intellectual power, logic, truth & honesty, strong boundaries, directness, earned respect, resilience, intimidating, tough exterior with soft insides, leadership and femininity reversed: controlled by emotions, unbalanced relationships, ruthlessness, resentment, self-isolation

Nate: King of Swords intellectual power, authority, courage, ambition, efficiency, objectivity, logic, knowledge, insight, rules & systems, expertise, pride, high expectations, leadership and masculinity reversed: overlooked value, shyness, misuse of power, ego, punishment, arrogance, criticism, self-interest, lack of direction, irrationality, anxiety, self-doubt, absolutism

Beard: The Hermit profundity, anti-materialism, wisdom through trial, principled, adventurous, private, selective, intimacy, guidance, uniqueness, life-long journey, re-evaluating your life, hands-off mentorship reversed: denial, isolation, purposelessness, self-destruction, co-dependence

Isaac: The Emperor protection, defense, stability, security, status, power, recognition, respect, commanding, firm but fair, fearlessness, action, loyalty, strength, influence, rules & order, steadfastness, leadership and masculinity reversed: rigidity, insecurity, violence, stubbornness, breaking hierarchical confinement, anger, unstable relationships

Dani: The Fool new beginnings, potential, faith, curiosity, enthusiasm, action, spontaneity, play & fun, wonder, high energy, trust reversed: self-doubt, hesitation, dread, lack of caution, naivety, lack of awareness, blame

Sam: The Hierophant strong ethics, trusted authority figures, learning & teaching, communal responsibility, tradition, family, honor reversed: finding your own path, trusting yourself, challenging the status quo, follower to leader

Georgie: Queen of Cups nurturing, compassionate, intuition, authenticity, encouraging others, strong boundaries, perceptive, communication, confidant, healing, seeing the best in others, inner strength reversed: lack of self-care, emotional burnout, co-dependence

Colin: The Magician resourcefulness, adaptability, potential, intention, (a strong and) capable (man), focus, commitment, versatility, diversity reversed: inaction, uncertainty, unfulfilled potential, doubt

Higgins: Judgement emotional choices, lessons learned, subtle guidance, self-actualization, absolution, togetherness reversed: self-reflection, regret, sacrifice, ignoring a problem hoping it will go away

Trent: The World achievement, completion, cycles, closure, lessons learned, experience, wisdom, taking a break, responsibility, integrity, awareness, discovery, material pleasures reversed: moving on, hard work, changing goals, realizing new desires

Rupert: Seven of Swords betrayal, deception, shame, risking it all, cunning, taking advantage, personal agenda, too good to be true, strategy, focus, bending the rules, self-sabotage, strict priorities, escapism reversed: chip on your shoulder, denial, emotional dependency

Sharon: The High Priestess the subconscious, special knowledge, enlightenment, inner truth, patience, answers, guidance, encouragement, compassion, collaboration reversed: emotional distance, avoidance, fear of opening up

Jack: King of Coins material provider, success, ambition, confidence, sharing abundance, self-discipline, investment, pragmatism, economic power, influence, methodical, routines reversed: over-consumption, putting money or status before anything else, lack of integrity, rigidity, snobbishness

Jade: Two of Swords challenge, choice, judgment, consequence, intuition, internal compass, partnership reversed: stagnation, misinformation, stalemate

[myevilmouse]

If you’re a fan of Thrawn x ladies, what do you think of Thrawn x Dedra Meero from Andor as a potential pairing?

Thank you so much for this ask anon!  I admit I had to sit and think about this a hot second. 

I am open to Thrawn x All The Ladies so I had to separate my personal lack of interest in this character from the idea of shipping her with Thrawn.  She certainly has traits I think he would recognize and admire:  resourcefulness, ambition, cunning, ruthlessness.  I think the biggest obstacle to this pairing would be this overall desperate vibe she exudes (at least to me) and her narrow-mindedness (some may say single-mindedness) when planning strategies.  I think the first would be a turn off/red flag for him and the second would be beyond annoying.  Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t fuck her, though.  That’s the beauty of fanfic.  If you can conceive a ship, you can make it happen!

I am not personally interested in reading this ship at all, I have to say.  But if I was going to try to write it, I would probably make it ultra toxic and vicious, with both of them suffering for their mutual bad decision to bang hahaha  I think she should probably stick to that Syril dude and they can slake their repressed thirst together, as they both give off that same dangerous virgin vibe (at least to me, of course others may disagree!)

If I was going to ship Thrawn with -anyone- in Andor, it would be Mon Mothma…that’s a juicy ship (and I know at least one author is all over it).

Thank you again so much for this ask! I made that gif up there for you! 💙😘

[pricechecktranslations]

Ciuld you talk about why you like her so much? Gumilla, i mean.

OH, Gumillia. Yes, I do like her a lot. I can ramble about Gumillia.

I like her personality, mostly. Held talks about her like she's a more responsible person than Elluka, so the impression that I think fans get of her in Daughter of Evil is that she's a grounded, sensible person, which of course is completely turned on its head in Gift from the Princess Who Brought Sleep when she turns out to be an abusive, loose-cannon cop when a member of the World Police.

The thing about her is not that she's sensible, it's that she's single-minded. For her, there exists only the goal, and the quickest path to get there. The only constraints she seems to understand is pedantic adherence to verbal courtesy (like insisting Allen use honorifics for her)--anything else, like laws and due process, or even just basic social skills, just goes completely over her head. Comparatively, Elluka clearly just doesn't care about these things due to how long she's been alive, but Gumillia seems mystified as to why Hob is so angry at her behavior, for example.

This is what makes her so badass. She's able to challenge, though not defeat, Irina during the DoE period, but by the time of Pierrot she's able to hold her own in a 4-way (5-way?) duel. She brutally dispatches Mayrana with ruthless efficiency despite Mayrana having stacked the deck to such a degree that even Elluka struggles against her. She has extraordinary outside-the-box thinking (such as her magic-shooting gun), probably because she doesn't even see the box to begin with.

All of this single-mindedness also applies to things other than magic. She has a small handful of people that she becomes attached to, and to them she is loyal to the end. Everyone else is an afterthought. She rescues Kayo from hell solely because she has Elluka's old body. She has no interest in anything outside of her core set of interests (such as romance, poor Ayn), but if it does interest her she's wildly obsessive about it.

I like that she's a character who doesn't express herself much, emotionally. That mothy makes clear that when she does have them, she actually has very deep emotions, but for the majority of her time onscreen she has flat affect. And the only time we do see her show emotion, she's having a complete breakdown. You could be forgiven for thinking that she doesn't let her emotions control her, but this is untrue. I don't think there is a single time in the series where she went against what her emotions were telling her to do versus what the "right" thing was, it's just that 9/10 what she wanted to do also happened to be the right thing. On the flipside, because her relationship with her emotions is so detached compared to the average person, I'm pretty sure it makes her pretty much impervious to any demonic influence.

I'll come right out and say it, I personally find her extremely relatable as a character and I really enjoy how unique she is among the rest of the cast.

There's more I could say, of course, but this really is getting pretty disorganized so I think I'll stop here.

[pazodetrasalba]

Work

Dear Caroline:

In our ruthless and cutthroat age, Humility tends to play the part of an Iphigenia in Aulis, all too ready or resigned to be sacrificed at the altar of success and a competitive job market. You yourself, being humble but ambitious, have had to wield the dagger with gusto in order to carve a place for yourself in finance, small sacrifice, perhaps, in your thoughts when measured against the good you could do, and the satisfaction of proving your worth.

I can see both the virtue and the unrealistic nature of your proposal for a less aggressive work space here. In the areas I deal with (education, public sector) you do get women in high-status positions, but it is a very specific realm which does not transport well to sectors of high stress and competition, the type in which one is forced to forfeit time, leisure, sanity and ethics in exchange for big paychecks and the possibility of success. Whether it be for biological, psychological or cultural reasons -probably a combination of them all- men seem on average more predisposed and better wired for this obsessive trailblazing, and you yourself have made it pretty clear in other posts that, you were all too ready and willing to follow this path and bear its costs.

I wouldn't know about how good or bad overconfidence might be, but I'd care to guess that in some circumstances, it might be necessary. Most business ventures have ridiculously low possibilities of success, and even after some wins, even more ridiculous probabilities of keeping up with, or outpacing, the competition. It would probably require a certain single-mindedness, stubbornness and delusional confidence to just keep pushing. And war-like scenarios seem to call for a leader. Besides, the 'over' in overconfidence can very well be a matter of perspective and situation. As I like to tell my students, the difference in some words like 'pride' and 'arrogance' is more tied to the subjective evaluation of the speaker (respectively, positive or negative) than to a clear-cut reality, which probably subsumes in the same person within the same actions and character traits.

Then again, hope springs eternal in mankind's bosom. I am currently reading two of your recommended books, and one of them makes a compelling case on how culture 'domesticates' us and keeps under check the worst angels of our nature. That should give ground for at least some optimism that might percolate into hiring and promoting decisions in tomorrow's companies.

On a side note, payments to FTX top executives were made public today, with you being the least well paid -less than a fourth of Trabucco, the next least paid-, which seems patently absurd and unfair...

Quote:

He loves power. A terrible love.

Euripides, Iphigenia in Aulis

[whoacanada]

‘Wishful Thinking‘

Summary: Every NHL champion gets a single brush with ice magic. When Jack takes his first cup with the Falconers, he accidentally undoes the wish that brought him back from the brink of death in 2009, and Bitty becomes hell-bent on lifting the cup himself for a chance to set things right.

A/N: Finally posting some concepts I’ve played around with that aren’t 100% complete massive fics, but still pretty solid, just little things that might be enjoyed. Yet another cup-wish-gone-wrong-au with monkey-paw components. Also inspired by discord convos about canon!Jack meeting an older, veteran NHL!Bitty and having a lot of feelings. Also mentor/father-in-law!Bob trying to help Bitty navigate the NHL. There’s more to this floating around but this is the meat of it

____________

____________

Bob can sense when it happens. A shift of something monumental that he’s only felt on a handful of occasions his entire life. A quick glance across the ice finds a number of the celebrating Falconers looking around curiously, unsure of the sensation; for so many, it’s their first brush with ice magic. A pleasant novelty. The vets, though, they look to each other.

Bob turns and doesn’t have to look far to find his son, one hand clasped around the cup, the other around Eric Bittle’s waist, smiling from ear to ear. Something about the moment is wrong, but Bob can’t quite determine why as he’s overcome with a wave of nausea. The stadium lights are too bright and he blinks hard, face scrunching, trying to force whatever wrongness he’s feeling out of himself.

Someone’s made a wish.

The moment passes. Bob’s vision clears. There, veiled in a shower of blue and gold confetti, is Eric; alone at center ice, face twisted in confusion as he looks around for the man who only moments earlier had been in his arms.

“You take the cup, you get one real wish,” the decades old, bourbon-lacquered voice of his first coach reminds him. “But only the one. Can be something small, like an empty cab in the rain, or it can be something big. World changing, even. The one thing, the most important thing — ”

“No,” Bob breathes. “Please, no.”

“— You never use your wish on another player.”

____________

____________

____________

They don’t know exactly what Jack wished for, but the next time Bitty’s blades touch the ice, it’s as if he’s stepped into the body of a new man. No more slurs. No more targeted chirps. He’s just one of the boys.

He plays. He wins. Then, the offers start to come.

NHL teams looking for fast wingers, team players, leadership material; not one of them mentions diversity, or Eric’s status as the first out NCAA hockey captain. No one cares. No one remembers Jack, and no one cares about Eric.

The best and worst case scenarios rolled into one. If this is the reality Jack unknowingly traded his existence for, Bitty has no choice but to walk through the door his partner opened.

Bitty swallows, trying to force the words out on one of his now nightly calls with the man who would have been his father-in-law in another world, if the shared connection between them hadn’t been interred in a Montréal cemetery almost a decade prior.

“I think . . . I think he wished for acceptance.”

___________

___________

___________

“No one remembers anymore.���

Eric scuffs his skate against this ice, building up a small pile of shavings before scattering them again, focusing on the soft white as if somehow he’ll be able to transport himself bodily to somewhere cool and quiet. Jackson Hole. Banff. Tremblant. Anywhere but here. Anywhen but now.

“Saw Tater last week at a press junket. Blank stares all around. Some days, most days, I wake up and I don’t know how I got here. I can go without thinking of him.”

Weeks. Eric doesn’t say aloud. Months. Those hideous mornings when he wakes up beside a warm body and forgets they aren’t him. They aren’t supposed to be him. Was there ever even a him.

Jack. Eric mouths silently, just to remind himself. His name is Jack.

The details always slip. The universe constantly trying to correct the fallacy of Eric Bittle remembering a man who died before they technically ever met. Faded photographs and corrupted memory cards. Selfies that used to have two people in frame. Vlog posts with cosmic ADR, swapping Jack’s name for someone else’s like a hastily rewritten script. Eventually, even Eric’s memories turn traitor. First times lost to reshoots and post-production magic. Blue eyes are brown. Black hair is blonde. Jack becomes Phillip. Eric’s first love recast. In desperation, he pulls a page from Memento, finds a tattoo parlor and has ‘Jack Laurent Zimmermann’ inked in dark, unmistakable letters on his inner thigh. Adds a cup, the Falconers’ crest, and the date they lost everything. It works well enough until the name fades; there are still days where a hook up will ask why Eric has a championship tattoo for a team he never played with.

Now, all he has is Bob.

“That’s why I’m here.” Bob reminds. “That’s why we talk.”

“But what happens if we don’t.”

Bob’s familiar assurances rumble through the phone. Constant. Refusing to acknowledge the harsh realities of the passing of time. The ever-present doomsday clock moving them both toward disaster — Bob aging, Eric aging out. He’s good, but he isn’t great, and the only offers coming his way are single-season contracts with teams that haven’t sniffed a championship in years. One day very soon, there will be no more chances for Eric to undo what’s been done. No more favors to ask of teammates that have long since forgotten a world where Jack Zimmermann was a college graduate and a rookie MVP. Not just an addict. Not just dead at nineteen.

Eric listens to Bob ramble, asks him to tell him a story, to tell him about the Jack that Eric never really got to know. The Jack he can barely remember. A man that Eric has dedicated his entire life to honoring, to bringing back — from where he cannot fathom — and Bob obliges in a soft tone Eric imagines is not dissimilar from how he must have spoken to his son as a child.

Eric ignores his teammates rushing around him — tossing chirps and gentle insults about his ‘Sugar Daddy’ — and focuses on the accented voice in his ear; grasping desperately at the memory of a man who doesn’t exist. Pretending. Hoping.

__________

__________

Across the ice, Eric sees Kent Parson watching him. When they lock eyes, the aging star glides toward him, under a guise of one amicable captain greeting another. He’s pushing 37, and while the years of competitive play are starting to show, he’s just as viciously handsome as the day they first met. At least, Eric thinks he is. He can’t imagine a life where Kent Parson strolled onto a college campus and played beer pong at a frat party, but there’s a folder of old photos on Eric’s computer. Jack is in none of them, but there’s one of himself and Kent. Smiling.

Eric can’t recall why the image bothers him so much.

Parson used his wish years ago on something that he’s never bothered to share — and Eric’s far too much a gentleman to ask a man who was once a rival what he wasted his golden ticket on — but now, he’s slowing down, and this is supposed to be his farewell season. Going out with a bang, riding the high of his fifth cup win. He’s worked hard, and he deserves to shove the Penguins back down into obscurity for another season. Deserves it far more than Eric, with his selfish, single-mindedness that’s ruined god knows how many careers in the last decade between his own ruthlessness and Bob’s meddling.

Except. . . this is also likely Eric’s last season. His last chance to undo the great tragedy of his life, and Parson knows it.

“How you feeling, Peaches? You ready?”

Eric hates the nickname in the same way he hates when his father calls him ‘Champ’.

Eric fights his own shame because he wants to be honest, say, ‘No, I’m not ready, I’ll never be ready,’ but Eric can’t ask for what he wants, anymore. He wants the Aces to balk on a power play. He wants Parson to flub a pass and throw the game —  he even knows the man would probably do it, too — but Eric needs to come by a win honestly. They learned the hard way in 2022 when Eric hands were wrapped around the cup, wishing, praying, crying, pleading . . .

Clear eyes, full hearts, or some such bullshit.

Cheaters don’t get wishes.

“I can’t remember, anymore,” Eric admits as they square up across the face-off circle, the resigned terror of an inescapable end creeping upon him like the burn of an old injury ignored for far too long. “Kent. Please.” Parson leans down, rests his stick against the ice, and holds Eric’s gaze as if to say, I’m here. Trust me. Just play.

The puck drops.

________

________

________

There’s someone watching him, young, handsome with dark hair and the kind of bright blue eyes that scream ‘notice me’ with all of the biological bluntness of neon plumage and a mating dance. The man weaves through the crowd, unnoticed by Eric’s teammates, and comes close enough that Eric can’t help but assume familiarity. He must be a fan, the way he’s flushed and excitable.

Eric’s drunk enough on the moment that he’s happy to indulge his baser instincts. He also literally can’t remember the last time he brought company home and if there’s ever been a night to get laid, it’s this one.

“Crisse, look at you, Bits.”

The man is caught between being awestruck and simply struck, reaching out to touch Eric’s arm but not quite making contact, like his depth perception is the tiniest bit off. He drops Eric’s old nickname so easily, so earnestly, that for a moment Eric thinks they might already know each other — but that’s impossible. Eric would remember someone so handsome, so very much his type.

“Only my friends call me ‘Bitty’.” Eric cautions, raising his half-empty champagne bottle in a mock toast and flashing his best ‘you’re coming home with me tonight’ smile. “But I’m more than happy to to get acquainted with you, Sugar.”

Eric isn’t usually this forward, this unrestrained. Tonight, it doesn’t matter, he’s celebrating: another championship, the end of a career, a life well lived. It’s to be expected. What isn’t expected is how the man’s relieved smile falters; as if Eric’s unbridled joy is somehow misplaced.

“Bitty? It’s me.”

“And ‘me’ is called . . . ?”

On very few occasions in Eric’s life has he been able to witness true devastation first-hand; and those instances were related to deaths, hockey losses, or blackout morning afters.

“Jack.” The man says softly, face slack with surprise. “It’s. . . Jack. Bitty, you know me.”

“If we’ve met before, I’m sorry,” Eric apologizes, hating to see the kid look so defeated. “I meet so many people — ”

Over Jack’s shoulder, Eric catches sight of Bob Zimmermann and waves, delighting in the way Bob’s face lights up when he catches sight of Eric, practically going supernova when he notices Jack as well, crossing the ice like a man possessed; Bob moves to pull them both into a hug but Eric’s new friend holds up a defensive hand and Bob stops mid-gesture.

It’s extremely apparent something is off, and between the reporters, the confetti, the champagne, and the fans, Eric is missing all of the context clues.

“Just won my last cup,” Eric singsongs, gesturing with the bottle between his mentor and the man Eric would very much like to fuck — who look very similar now that Eric can see them side by side. “Everyone’s super excited, right? Yeah? So, what’s going on. Did someone die?”

“No.” Bob says quickly, eyes flicking between Jack and Eric warily. “No. Not . . . that.”

“Severely injured?”

“. . . Non.”

“Okay, then, we should be celebrating!” Eric throws his arms wide and nearly clocks a passing teammate. “No more party pooping, Bobbert. Speaking, this is my new friend, Jack. Jack, Bob, Bob, Jack. Though, I’m getting the feeling you two might know each other. Or might be . . . related.” Eric gasps and smacks his free palm against his forehead. “Oh my god, the Tremblant retreat? Is that where I know you from? Listen, I was fucked up on pain meds that whole weekend, I am so sorry if we’ve already met.”

Despite Eric’s continued attempts at clarifying their shared mystery past, Jack keeps looking at Bob with that same wounded expression and it’s really killing Eric’s buzz.

“Bob.” Eric redirects. “Help me, here. Cutie’s nervous.”

“Eric, this is my, ah, well,” Bob’s smile is so forced, so tense, it looks more like a grimace. “Well, this is my son, Jack.”

There is only one ‘Jack’ Eric has ever known in relation to Bob Zimmermann, and he is not someone to be mentioned in polite conversation.

“Your son?” Eric echoes slowly. “Your son, Jack.”

Bob realizes what Eric’s tiptoeing around and casts a furtive glance toward the younger man, lifting two fingers to his cheek conspiratorially to imply ‘it’s a long story, not meant for public ears’. Eric knows how to play along.

“Wow, okay, did not expect that, but now that you’re saying it, I can one-hundred-percent tell. You have the same, well, everything.”

Eric takes Jack’s hand for an obligatory shake, not missing the way Jack’s features twist up into something caught between flattery and misery, before staring down his pseudo-mentor.

“My question is this, where have you’ve been hiding him — because how long have I know you, Bobby? Shame.”

“I’ve been . . . away.”

Jack’s tone is weighted with context Eric absolutely does not possess, but can definitely read into. Given the age difference and Alicia’s conspicuous lack of attendance this evening, Jack’s definitely a love child from some 90s Zimmergroupie. Or, original Jack didn’t actually OD and Bob spirited away his kid to keep away the prying eyes of the public; but that wouldn’t explain the age difference or the shared name.

Oh, Bobbert.

“Couldn’t wheel him out too soon,” Bob jokes, but Eric can tell the man’s heart isn’t in it, reinforcing Eric’s suspicion.

“Well, I’m happy you did,” Eric says graciously, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. “He’s very handsome, when he isn’t doing this Eeyore impression.”

“Just like his father,” Bob says reflexively —  defensively —  as Jack goes pink. “Eric, will you excuse us for a moment? Back in five minutes, tops.”

Eric offers a gracious wave, gaze lingering on Jack’s retreating back — and backside, bless — watching Bob rest a firm hand on his son’s neck, gripping tightly to lean in and furiously whisper something. As Eric watches, Jack looks back over his shoulder; it’s not the fond glance of a potential paramour. Regret, maybe? Grief, definitely.

He must be as disappointed to be cock-blocked by his father as Eric is.

Across the ice, Kent Parson has rushed Jack, gathering him into a crushing embrace that the younger man returns easily —  burying his face against Parson’s pads; pulling back only when Parson grabs Jack’s shoulders to push him away, taking a long look at him, holding his face between his hands briefly before pulling Jack back into his arms.

They don’t just look like old friends, it’s a reunion of desperation, like the videos his mother sends of soldiers coming home from war, but before Eric can think better of it, a teammate fists a hand in the collar of Eric’s sweater and pulls — away from Bob’s forlorn love child and forgotten first meetings — and the night goes on.  

Bob doesn’t return. Neither does Jack.

Eric doesn’t even notice.

__________

__________

[swanhookheart]

Angry Grishaverse book review time!

After watching and LOVING s1 of Shadow and Bone, I read the trilogy! I was not impressed. 

Spoilers incoming for Grishaverse stuff, so if you don’t want those, don’t read on!

Watching Shadow and Bone this past weekend, I was hooked : Darklina, the lore behind the amplifiers, the Aleksander backstory… I was really impressed and hoped that this was it--that at last, I’d found a fantasy series that was going somewhere big, something I could really, thoroughly sink my teeth into. 

*Sigh* 

Then I read the books.

The reader / viewer enters the Grishaverse associating darkness with pure evil. The Fold, described early on, is shown to be this bleak, awful, ruinous place where people go to be eaten alive by volcra and hope goes to die. We therefore, naturally, associate the Darkling--who possesses the power of shadow--with that evil from the off. I’m speaking as someone who only got into the Grishaverse last Saturday. My initial thoughts were, “oh, he’s being set up to be viewed as dark and scary; this is the expectation Bardugo wants us to have so that we’ll be blown away by some great twist later. Count me in!”

But that twist never came. He was set up as evil, and he stayed evil. Surprise, he’s the Black Heretic! Surprise, he’s an abomination effectively created by Morezova’s greed! Surprise, he’s ruthless and horrible and does cruel things! Except none of those things are actually surprising, given he was SET UP from the beginning to be viewed that way. He did bad things, walked a bad walk, and talked a bad talk. I kept thinking “ah, so he’s gonna get a sweeeet redemption arc,” and then he just never did. That element of the story was predictable to a nauseating degree, and that predictability made the entire universe feel a bit flat. If the reader saw more of his backstory, had more real, logical, sound justification for why he does the things he does (like in the show, where they at least tried to paint his actions as borne of some misplaced sense of servitude / protection for the Grisha or where we saw him actively struggling at points to grapple with the darkness inside him), then maybe the trilogy wouldn’t have been such a letdown. And yes, I know about his sacrifice or whatever later on. It’s not enough.

In villains, I and probably plenty of others like to see humanity. We want to empathize with our villains to a certain extent--to understand them just a little bit--so we can fully commit to hating them when they violate our trust. The Darkling didn’t have that human, redeeming quality, though--at least, not in the books. In the books, he was just a power-hungry jackass who simultaneously didn’t want to be alone and kept trying to kill his only opportunity not to be alone. His single-mindedness, his lack of human empathy, the simplicity with which he pursued this made him seem almost stupid to me as a reader. For someone who’s lived hundreds of years, he’s kind of an idiot when it comes to other people--which, itself, almost seems incongruous with his having lived for so long. If he’d maybe had more backstory or more in his story to justify his actions, maybe he’d feel like a better villain. But atm, all I’m doing is rolling my eyes with him. I couldn’t love him because he didn’t put in any work toward being a better person. Even in the end, he doesn’t actually do the work or repent. But I also can’t hate him because the source material hasn’t given me enough actual human qualities to hate or to feel betrayed. His character just… missed the mark for me. 

As did Mal’s. Fucking MAL, oh my GOD! This dude’s literal only personality trait was loving Alina. Cool, he could track--for Alina, mostly. He could fight--for Alina. “I am become a blade”? Sir, you got a whole-ass tattoo announcing that you’re an object in this woman’s service? No WAP is worth that, and I’m speaking as a very bisexual woman. My dude, it’s weird, it’s extra, it’s just too much. I’ll go back to the Darkling for two seconds to say that, ofc, his actions were painted as problematic and misogynistic and gross. But, like, the possessiveness Mal displays with Alina kinda feels on that same level? Why are we pretending he’s better when he actively tries to keep her low, keep her powerless, and keep her his? Again, dude got a tattoo of her sigil. He was fully prepared to be the leader of her guard even if she married Nikolai just for the opportunity for some sexytimes. I know that YA is about really intense emotion, the fire of teenage hormones and stuff, but that all just felt a bit toxic. The way that his entire life revolved around her while she tried to balance the role of saint, hero, orphan, and all the things she was just felt goofy and like a wildly unhealthy dynamic. 

Their whole relationship also felt really obvious, as I guess the Darkling being revealed as the trilogy’s big bad did. It was predictable, set up to be that way from the start. There were no surprises. It was Mal, and then it was still Mal, and in the end, it was also Mal. We weren’t really shown any of what made them so drawn to each other, we were just kind of told and expected to be fine with the intensity of it. But it read as being way too much for me, and god, it kept getting worse. Again, this one felt like low-hanging fruit--low effort, lazy writing. Nothing about it actually read to me as romantic, just as too much. They didn’t so much as fall in love as just start out that way, and reading that was somewhere between boring and uncomfortable. At least with the Darkling or hell--even Nikolai--we saw some of that chemistry unfold on the page. We were shown some of what made them work the way they did. There was something underpinning their relationship, and not just “oh, they’re supposed to be together”. I mean, after all JKR’s bullshit, I feel totally fine saying fuck authorial intent. If you can’t even be bothered to actually put your shit on the page, don’t ask me to blindly accept your version canon as gospel truth. 

We could have had Deckerstar vibes, Beauty and the Beast vibes, seen light and dark come together and surprise us by actually working well together. But no, we saw a special girl lose everything that made her special and settle for some mediocre fuckboy from her hometown. We get characters that actually have the potential to be dynamic and make for a good story, but she still ends up with this bland, vanilla, trick-ass bitch? It’s a major letdown when you’ve actually been exposed to decent fictional couples, tbh.

OOF! And the ending? Oh jesus fuck, that ending. Darkling just… dies. Just like that. I read three whole books for that? I know he comes back and dies again and all, but the whole trilogy felt like it was building up to something more, something deeper and greater and more profound. He was horrible for the things he did, sure, and he deserved defeat as long as he refused to waver from his power-hungry, destructive path. But his death brought about no closure. He and Alina never actually had the fight they needed to or reached an understanding with each other. Everything is left undone, unsaid, unexplored. The ending just felt super anticlimactic on the page, and so, the trilogy as a whole fell completely short of any mark I hoped it might hit.

Did I hope Darklina would be endgame? Sure. But I’d also have been A-okay with a tragic ending if it had been done right. Did I think it would have been a lot more interesting to see a redemption arc for Darkling than just… more of the same? Or maybe Mal develop a personality outside of Alina? Absolutely. There was so much potential, and it really feels like Bardugo squandered all of it. And for what? This was nearly as disappointing as the eighth season of Game of Thrones. I probably won’t be watching future seasons if they follow the books, but I guess I’m glad for the day or so of fleeting pleasure I got when I still had hope for a properly told story. 

[keingleichgewicht]

i've personally always thought of the relentless sun line as sanya proving sergei right, in an awful way. she just doesn't know it. because yura, as a person, IS relentless- but he doesn't know or care how that burns people around him. it's almost like a retelling of the icarus myth. sanya is flying too close to the sun, and it's burning her. what sergei was afraid of all along. the tragic part is sanya doesn't know that she's falling until it's too late, and yura has at least some idea but he goes along with it either way. it's a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy, in a way, that what sergei was afraid of came to pass BECAUSE he isolated sanya that much. just think it's interesting

it's true it is super interesting!!

and yes by god i agree that yura is relentless - but in this frankly fascinating way where that tenacity has been curbed and stifled by the hopelessness of his situation, the lack of anything he could realistically strive for. he's on a dead-end path in a dead-end town and he's got the brains to realize it and so has been afflicted too badly with the disease of despair to ever really believe that anything he can do is worth it - and that's why the parties, that's why the dicking around going nowhere, that's why he comes off as (and believes himself to be) so profoundly apathetic. yura, of parties-are-for-losers-the-song, doesn't seem like someone who would ever seriously work toward something, and that's because he wouldn't; because no action he has access to will actually get him out of here no matter how hard he works at it, and he knows that

but the ability is there: he has this immense capacity for determination, and not just determination, but single-mindedness, this particular unwavering, all-consuming strength of purpose. it doesn't show, because he has no purpose to hold on to, but if he could find one - to yet again quote richard siken: well, then, game over. that's why i say all yura is really looking for is something worth throwing his whole soul into. he is so intense, in this respect, that doing anything with less than all his heart just isn't worth it, and so as long as he can't find a challenge worthy of all of him, he can't do anything at all.

but now he's found it! and it's saving kt, nominally, but practically also just a last-gasp attempt at grasping at any kind of control in his life, of being able to affect any kind of material change, and it really has a lot less to do with katya than he'd ever admit. but after seventeen years he has finally found something worth doing and you'd best believe he will be giving it absolutely everything he has, seventeen years of fruitless festering passion finally brought to bear; he turned himself into a time-bomb and he's finally found something to aim himself at. and now it comes out! the relentlessness!

and that's the problem: i fear seventeen years of pent-up intensity with nowhere to go have made him tireless. they've made him utterly numb to any cost. relentless is so close to ruthless is so close to merciless..... occam's razor says 'what's the point of this self-pity, it's not pretty; just wasting time waiting for a sign' and i've said this before but the problem is he's got his sign! now he can be pitiless! time to pull out the animorphs quote i think

“People don’t understand the word ruthless. They think it means ‘mean.’ It’s not about being mean. It’s about seeing the bright, clear line that leads from A to B. The line that goes from motive to means. Beginning to end. It’s about seeing that bright, clear line and not caring about anything but the beautiful fact that you can see the solution. Not caring about anything else but the perfection of it.”

i suspect (i fear) that that's about where yura's at. this troubled youth on the diagram found his footing in saying: i need therefore i am. finally he has a purpose, a point to existence! finally he exists in a way he can assign value too! and it is because he has something he can truly want, and have a chance at taking; it's because he has something he can need. not caring about anything but the beautiful fact that you can see the solution. not caring about anything else but the perfection of it.

which honestly is probably what sanya sees in him, isn't it? hence that line. and yeah absolutely sergei's overprotection backfired as all overprotection does and made her want rebellion at any risk, and so like in any good tragedy he fundamentally brought it on himself (oh for a fatal flaw!)

but yes i do suspect that sanya has some idea. and after all it is an appealing quality, in its healthy form - apathy makes for shitty company, but if you see through the loser facade, if you can see that passion that's dormant underneath, well, that's pretty exciting, isn't it? you get the feeling he could do something huge, something great, if he really tried. not everyone can say that. and i do also think kt must have seen it in him too, because that's the kind of thing she can clock at fifty feet, and she does say: 'i only hope he won't lose sight / of his own future clear and bright.' i hope that he will turn that capacity to something that really is worthwhile. i hope that he'll catch sight of his future, his good ending, and chase that down, i hope he'll see what i see and become what he could be, he'll be something good for himself and the world.

which.... uh...... well.......... that isn't going well

[avani008]

Yudhishthira, Arjuna, Vidur, Bhima, Kunti

Kunti, because I'm sorry you can't show me a ruthless mother determined against all odds to keep her five sons alive--even if it means sacrificing others to do it. Even if it means sacrificing her secret son. I don't doubt she regretted Karna's...well, everything exceedingly; but she made her choice, long ago, and she stuck with it. Formidable, indeed!

Yudhisthira, in part because everyone else hates him. (If I'm going to get canceled by hindu mythology fandom for anything, watch it be this. I'm so sorry, guys). But also in part because--well, in my personal view of him, he is holier than thou and addicted to gambling and screws up terribly...while being an overwhelmed Eldest Child (TM) whose worldview is wrapped up in being Always Right, loves dogs, and ultimately goes through a detailed process of atonement for the way he treats his brothers and wife. Plus--I trust Krishna's judgment when he decides that this is the King Aryavrata needs; so for the epic to make sense and be satisfying to me, I have to imagine he's not at all that bad.

Bhima & Arjuna tie for me, because I am very fond of both of them! Bhima's heart in all things, and Arjuna's rock-solid determination (also his extreme obliviousness/single-mindedness, but I feel that's an Avani only characterization) is extremely endearing to me, and there's no denying they have some of the most entertaining side-quests/stories.

Vidura is last, not because I dislike him, but because he has the good sense to make good decisions and keep out of the way. Given what all happens in the epic, that's--not entirely a bad idea.

[septembersghost]

I watched you die. And I carried you. I carried your corpse into your room, and I put your dead body on your bed.

hey, remember a few weeks back when i had a full-blown breakdown about this and described it in detail because it kept haunting my thoughts at night and was regularly driving me to tears? when i wrote that, i completely forgot that sam had said this in canon. i completely forgot that it's how he explained why he went entirely off the deep end. i completely forgot that dean softly says, "yeah," and sam says, "yeah." because dean knows what that's like too - carrying his body, cleaning off the blood (dean was covered in it, but he's not when we see him in his room, just like sam is clean of dirt and blood in ahbl2, they did that when they took each other's bodies home, and there are rituals we don't get to see, and the cleaning of each other's corpses is so tragically intimate and so very tied to tahara in my mind) - and they handle it differently, sam becomes a malevolent threat to the world at large, dean becomes a threat to himself (there's a post going around that says exactly this - sam is a danger to others without dean, dean is a danger to himself without sam). sam had to see the light drain from dean's eyes and the warmth of his face cooling and the strength leaving his hands, he had to carry him limp to the car and he had to get him back to the bunker, and he washed him and revealed all the bruises and extent of the damage underneath that blood, and he put him quietly on his bed, and THEN he went to summon crowley. we're supposed to believe he survived that ordeal AGAIN? he'd already done this. TWICE. in mystery spot, where his ruthless single-mindedness is clear. after the hellhounds, when he looked at his brother's shredded body and buried him in the ground, when he tries to bust open the gates of hell, when he calls upon a crossroads demon, out of his mind with rage and loss, offering himself up without hesitation, but futilely. then he sees him battered and broken and stabbed through the chest by metatron. and each time, EACH TIME, he goes so far to the dark side that he is equated to the monsters themselves, and we're supposed to accept that the last time, he simply built a pyre and walked in grief for the next few decades? in memory of dean, hallowed be thy name? we're supposed to believe that a sam with connections, the knowledge in the bunker, the MoL archives and reach, the network of hunters, being close friends with the queen of hell, being surrogate family to "god" (...) himself, and freaking cas is in heaven apparently, and we're supposed to blithely accept that sam winchester, latent unhinged boy king, fierce reckless angry relentless sam, just put his brother in the flames. there's no fucking way. i am so angry for them every day.

***

flashback to this post that i wrote and saved nine days ago, but didn't post because i was too hurt.

He had one chance in this world to change his life. You want that to all end in tragedy?

sometimes the unintentionally prophetic dialogue...aches and I can’t.

I remember once, probably from a panel way back in the day, Jensen saying that the MoC storyline was difficult for him because he had to be in such a dark headspace, but I can’t recall if he was talking about S9 or S10. having never put myself through S9 again until now (nor any season in full that followed), let me just say that rewatching it reminds me why, as a here-from-the-beginning-said-she’d-always-stay kind of girl (and ultimately, for better or probably worse, I did do that), it was the time when I seriously considered quitting. it’s miserable, and there aren’t even really any episodes to break it up (the closest we get is maybe Bad Boys, and I do very much like that one, but it’s still incredibly sad). the characters are barely themselves, it’s the worst that the boys’ dynamic ever was (S4 angst is compelling and desperate and enthralling bc it’s inherently tied to their issues and their ptsd and the gaping rift that opens and has to be mended. S9 angst is just ugly), the only levity at all comes from Crowley being a human blood junkie? like? (slightly some from when Cas is human, but that’s over quick and he’s right back into the mess that is the angel mythos, which by this point has strayed so far from their introduction that heaven and its mechanisms no longer make sense.)

I totally forgot they brought back Tessa only to kill her, and now I’m mad about it again. (bad move in general because all it serves to do is remind us how superior episodes like In My Time of Dying and Death Takes a Holiday were. and Appointment in Samarra too, and I’ll die on the S6-is-actually-good hill, but S6 is gold by comparison to S9).

we’re three months out from the finale (HOW), and it’s probably a good thing I’ve had that much space between it and Alex Annie Alexis Ann, because it still made me feel queasy and upset. all vampire episodes do now, which is like a curse specifically beset upon me, but due to plot specificities, idk 9x19 and 6x06 could battle it out, 9x19 might be worse. (No idea it was a Winchester that had done it. So...Which one of you was it? Which one of you took off my brother's head?! Was it you? Was it him? Pretty fitting – brother for a brother.)

it made me think about the revelry across whatever monster channels exist when they find out a vampire actually got the drop on Dean Winchester, and how unconscionable that is.

S9 did a very similar thing to S15 - break Dean down as much as possible, invalidate or threaten his free will and his other core character traits (S9 really seemed to take pleasure in draining away his empathy), paint him as too controlling/angry, all to get him to a place where they violently murder him, but make him okay with dying first. 9x23′s still staring me in the face and being distinct as an episode that I’m not sure I want to relive.

^ from the present, since I now have relived it and it was as excruciating as I feared it would be and I can’t even articulate words about it. I sobbed, not surprisingly.

“I’m proud of us” is still beautiful (still Dean Winchester) and I’m still destroyed that they stole that from him.

so my genius (*sarcastic*) self decides to pull up the transcript...the stage directions are like, hey, let’s double down on your agony.

DEAN: Sam. Hold up. Hold up.

[SAM sits him down on a piece of equipment. DEAN has fresh blood covering his lips and mouth. He can barely breathe.]

I got to say something to you.

SAM [holding his older sibling upright]: What?

[DEAN's hand rests on SAMMY's shoulder but as he talks he moves it to hold his head. The brother's eyes never leave each other.]

I'm proud of us.

[SAM eyes tear up as he looks into DEAN's fading green eyes. DEAN's hand falls from SAM's face and he closes his eyes and falls into little brother's chest.]

SAM: No, no. Hey, hey, hey. Hey, wake up, buddy.

[SAM pulls DEAN back up but DEAN is already gone. SAM grasps his bloody face with both hands and gently shakes]

Hey. Dean. Dean!

[Tears fall down SAM's face as he breaks down completely. He gathers DEAN's head to his chest and holds him tightly as he sobs heart-wrenching sobs that echo in the warehouse.]

[In the Men of Letter's bunker, SAM gently lays DEAN's body on his bed. DEAN's face is clean of all the blood. SAM stands up and he eyes are all puffy and red. He stares silently at his brother's body but tears well up in his eyes.

SAM sits at the table in the dark in the main room. He drinks an entire shot of whiskey.

SAM walks into dungeon with all the summoning spell ingredients still sitting on the floor like DEAN left them.]  

SAM: Damn it, Crowley. You got him into this mess. You will get him out... or so help me, God.

so yes, i wrote about this already, but it washed over me anew...look, I do love this show, when I type posts like this it sounds as if I don’t, but the immensity of the grief is because I love it. I am here for the gothic horror and the folklore and the complex dynamics and the overarching themes of generational trauma/free will/humanity-divinity/transformative love and I repeat myself a lot in both trying to assert that truth and to hold onto it. I don’t even have a problem with inherent tragedy, which is in this story’s skeleton. but its HEART had hope, its HEART had undying love and connection. it’s the way they did what they did, trampling on the essence of that, which still has me wandering the void.

i have a hundred actual ~deep~ insights and softer thoughts but i spend so much time crying that i end up too wrung out to type them.

[starry-sky-stuff]

Top 5 Double Lions :P

1) Leia Organa - Total badass, takes no shit and is a born commander. Absolutely awesome and I love her and Han.

2) Flint [Black Sails] - At first I found him to be an asshole, but I've warmed to him. I love his single-mindedness and grand vision for Nassau, even if I find his ruthlessness somewhat distasteful at times.

3) Rikki [H2O] - Childhood fav of mine. I love how outspoken and brash she is, and how willing she is to make a stand.

4) Lucie [A Rogue of One's Own] - I love her outspokenness and how she's unafraid to be herself, even when she's rejected by her family and society. I also enjoy her prickliness and the fact she's a good person but not particularly nice.

5) Bonnie Bennett - I really feel for this poor idealist trapped in a loyalist story, constantly having to make sacrifices for her supposed friends who treat her terribly.

Special mention to my oc Cecily, who's in the process of unburning. And if you haven't noticed, I'm a bit of a fan of Double Lion female characters.

[videogamelover99]

Right so is anybody gonna talk about how Zoya’s arc in ROW is most likely gonna be trying to Do What Needs to be Done for Ravka(tm) while also not becoming the Darkling? Because

There’s so many things in KOS that make her take on the Darkling’s role, even if she’s technically only one of many leaders

She is the one that gets his chambers

That whole thing with “It’s my blood in the snow”, him approving that, as he sees himself as having sacrificed to get his power, too

Him being repeatedly described as “beautiful” and using that to manipulate others, which Zoya kinda also does with her beauty

“Stop punishing yourself for having a heart” huh wow isn’t that a thing that the Darkling wishes he didn’t have. Emotions.

Zoya is repeatedly described as “ruthless”.

The Darkling is mentioned in her summary of ROW so like

“The dragon in her knew eternity”

“She would bide her time” -> “Serving countless kings, biding his time, waiting for you”(S&B). HUH.

She is hinted to be the potential Girsha Ruler(tm) everyone’s been waiting for

Like I’m 90% sure her arc will be realizing the darkest parts of herself and rejecting the cruelty and coldness and single-mindedness that made the Darkling what he is. She will be better. At least, I hope she will be.

[jbird-the-manwich]

I'm asking you this because you seem honest and a serious practitioner. I myself want to be more serious in my practice but I have mental illness that is chronic and paired with fatigue, memory issues, and mental fog. As a result my practice suffers and it kills me because I truly believe in witchcraft and my gods. Do you have any suggestions for mentally ill witches who are serious in their beliefs and practice but who are struggling? Thank you.

I have memory issues myself and for that I couldn't survive long without lists and reminders. I think my advice would be to do what you can when you can; people mistake seriousness for single-mindedness, and imo having a lot going on doesn't mean you're not serious - it means that like everyone else you're living in a busy world. To my mind seriousness is more about a (perhaps somewhat ruthless) pursuit of a) tangible results and b) efficiency. A technique that yeilds results is always baseline but from there I always try my best to shave out what I can - if I can tweak a ritual to deliver the same or better impact with less time expended, I almost always do. I think the important thing is to do your best to prioritize your practice as best you can - if at the end of the day the priority for your practice is acts of spiritual devotion, but not necessarily study, then, there's not as much need to fret over missed study time so long as your offerings are on time. Magic and witchcraft especially are odd beasts to attempt to qualify - people come to it for different reasons from different places and getting what you originally wanted out of it can mean, occasionally, ignoring some glittering distractions it places before you - or following them to see what's on the other side. I think the best guidance I can give is to get your bearings frequently and make sure the direction you're traveling is heading toward some value for you, and managing your priorities so that if you have to skip something, hours-in-the-day wise, its something recoverable - some things are just more forgiving of inattention than others. A cactus will still grow if I ignore it if I've set it up where it's happy but an exotic orchid requires much more care, and so it is with having a lot of irons in the fire.

[anndiscworld-phile]

For the arranged marriage prompt: 15 + todobaku

i’m so sorry it took so long for me to respond!! i didn’t even see this until yesterday (thanks tumblr) 

so my deepest apologies. also, straight up, I was not quite sure if this was supposed to be person a’s father/person b, or just person b is chosen for person a. I went with the latter (it’d be easier to swing for a short prompt), so I hope you like this!!

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Medieval AU - Person A’s father chose Person B, also it’s the law 

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Out of the four attempts to secure Todoroki Enji a suitable heir, only two had power of any significant note. Their mother’s gift, while far from weak, was no where near as powerful as his own. It stood to reason that not all of their children would inherit his strength.

This would not be the case for Enji’s grandchildren. While the less said about Toya the better, and Fuyumi and Natsuo’s marriages geared more towards alliances than anything else, Shouto’s marriage would be rooted in powerful magic, on both sides. 

Enji, to his barest, minimum, credit, had made no secret of this to Shouto. Nor had he hidden the means of finding said spouse from his son. 

“We’ll know your match by the end of the Champion’s Tourney.”

The Champion’s Tourney was a grueling competition, open to as many participants willing to die for the title. Competitors came from across the entire nation. The Tourney was held only once every ten years. The previous victor had the opportunity to step down or defend his title. 

Regardless, the victor would be named the Kingdom’s Champion. Aside from the wealth and recognition that went along with the title, they were given a sacred task. They would represent the crown in combat, be asked to go on quests, were given charge of armies, or asked to guard the king himself. 

Or, as Shouto learned at a very young age, they would be married into the royal family. 

While Shouto’s relationship with his father had improved, glacially, over the years, in this Todoroki Enji would not budge. But Shouto refused to be disheartened. 

If he had to marry the victor, then all he had to do was make sure the victor was someone he liked. Someone skilled, intelligent, and powerful enough, to not only make it to the end, but win. 

Luckily, Shouto was not short on skilled, intelligent, and powerful friends. Since the tournament was open to anyone, they didn’t need his father’s permission to compete. He’d broached the subject delicately to his friends—

“You said, ‘I’m going to get married, which one you wants to be it,’” Uraraka would correct later. 

Regardless, they had all rallied. Marrying Shouto, and sticking it to his dad, they said, would not be a hardship. So Uraraka, Iida, Midoriya, along with a slew of other friends, had entered the competition. 

And Shouto kinda looked forward to it. Not the, having to get married to his friend part, exactly. But he would enjoy seeing his father’s face twitch as he realized that Shouto had maybe not rigged the tourney, but stacked the odds in his favor. 

And he had been enjoying Enji’s displeasure. As his friends advanced, Shouto entertained fantasies of his father’s reactions to any of his friends winning. Dealing with the constant loud exclamations of scruples and conduct from Iida as a son-in-law, Uraraka’s blunt refusal to spend money on anything, Midoriya’s… well, Midoriya. 

It would be good. 

And it was. Or at least, had been. 

Because, Shouto reminded himself, as he watched the tourney in growing, yet dulled horror. The competition was open to anyone in the country. That it was a famous competition. That it was a glorious competition. That it was about winning. Which meant some people, who had been training overseas last Shouto checked, could conceivably decide to just. Return to the capital and ruin everything.

Blasting other people’s plans to pieces was Bakugou’s specialty. He did it with the same ruthless single-mindedness he did everything. 

Maybe he hasn’t gotten that much stronger, Shouto thought halfheartedly. 

Then Bakugou knocked Uraraka out of the tournament. 

“Well fuck,” Shouto said, watching Uraraka get helped out of the arena. 

Then it came down to Midoriya and Bakugou, because of course it did. And honestly, Shouto felt a little indignant here because it looked like they were having a blast, pun intended. They were smirking (well Midoriya was smiling more aggressively than usual), and bantering (Bakugou was cussing slightly less insultingly than usual), and they kept breaking off bits of the arena. 

While Shouto couldn’t blame Bakugou (though he dearly wanted to) for not knowing about his situation, he was severely miffed at Midoriya, who did know, but seemed to forget in the face of a of no holds barred fight with Bakugou. 

What’s marrying your best friend to beating up your other best friend, Shouto thought sourly. Though it would be a lie to say he wasn’t itching to get in there himself. 

Still. 

It was close, Midoriya and Bakugou were both strong. And they knew each other better than anyone else. From the corner of his eye, he could see the keen interest in Enji’s face. 

Shouto had a sudden flash of explosions at family dinners. “Please let him win,” he murmured quietly to the gods. “I’ll buy him the best notebooks, I swear.”

And then, they were in the air, and despite the years of training, Bakugou was still faster there, and he twisted—

When they landed, Bakugou was on top, the upper half of Midoriya’s torso outside the arena lines. 

“Victor!” Kayama roared, and the crowd began to scream. The corner of Todoroki Enji’s mouth turned upwards. Shouto’s heart pounded furiously in his ears, but it was drowned out by the noise.

Bakugou pulled Midoriya up roughly, and Shouto saw the exhilaration slowly fade from his face as Midoriya realized what this result meant beyond a loss to his rival. 

“Fuck,” Shouto said again, more quietly this time.  

—

The accolades were always given right when the final match ended, the formal celebrations followed later. 

Bakugou had been cleaned up somewhat. His face wasn’t bleeding anymore, Shouto noted. Midoriya, as the other final contestant, had also been scrubbed for presentation to the royal family. He looked at Shouto guiltily. The swollen nose did make him more grudgingly sympathetic.  

Sorry, he mouthed at Shouto while his father was talking. 

He shrugged. What did it even matter anymore.

“For your victory, Champion, I offer—”

He could see the bright gleam in Bakugou’s eyes, the eagerness for a challenge. 

Oh just you wait, Shouto thought darkly. 

“—Your hand in marriage to my son.” 

The crowd actually shut up for a moment. It was quiet enough that Bakugou’s response to this honor could be heard across the arena. 

“WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?!!!!”

What the fucking fuck indeed. 

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p.s. A lot later, Bakugou is also going to be angry that it’s his hand in marriage that gets offered, because shouldn’t it be fucking Todoroki’s hand??

(actual image of the milliseconds before Bakugou’s verbal response)

this prompt was a lot of fun, thank you for sending it to me!! i love todobaku and i am a sucker for arranged marriage, so 

( •_•)>⌐■-■ 

always feel free to drop a line about arranged marriage anything, thank you 

[avenger09]

Desmond "Des" Blanco 

="Saw a lagging interceptor try to make a run for the Star Destroyer before it jumped out. Think they might be hidin' in the debris..."=

="SIgh... That limbing bomber not enough for you..? Even if your right, one abandoned Imp is no threat. Just leave it be."= 

="..." "I'm checking it out. Don't wait up."= 

--->Last communication between Des Blanco and his squadron.

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Formally a pilot who flew for for Saw Gerrera's partisans that drifted back to the alliance shortly after the battle of Yavin, having survived the destruction of Jedha.

He soon made a reputation for himself among the Rebel starcorp for retaining the ruthless partisan mindset "No mercy for the Empire.". Relentlessly pursuing damaged, or even fleeing Imperial ships during his sortie's, sparing none and even painting his starfighter in the violent cells honour. 

This made Des few friends among the other X-Wing pilots, who would rarely volunteer to support him during a dogfights unless ordered to. As typically any squadron he was assigned to found themselves disturbed by his single mindedness.

Despite this, he lived to see the fall of the Empire only to be eventually downed in the aftermath of the engagment over Var-Shaa. When he was outmaneuvered by an equally determined TIE piot whom Blanco hunted after he'd been left behind by retreating Imperial Remnants. Causing him to crash into the rocky canyon walls adorned along the coasts of the surface of the planet. 

After his remains where recovered New Republic Command initially believed had his astromech not been taken out during his pursuit it could have helped manoeuvre his X-Wing out of danger, or if a willing wingmate had accompanied him, the TIE Interceptor might have been destroyed instead. 

Upon hearing testimony from his wingmates however, who insisted his vindictive predisposition towards violence made his demise an inevitability, his death was concluded to be the result of reckless pilot error. 

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An error notification showed up as I submitted this, so I created a second draft. I wonder which will be preferred?