#like they rarely invade it but it's still something of an issue
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cannot put into words how badly i want to move out. love my parents but i don't know how much longer i can go without complete control of my time,,,
#the most annoying thing of all time ever is being interrupted#and having to adjust my plans because of someone else getting in the way#like i just want to be able to do my own thing at all times without worrying about external influence#and that's pretty much impossible in this house#don't even get me STARTED on privacy#like they rarely invade it but it's still something of an issue#and i just love to be alone. which is also impossible in this house#let me out of here immediately#girlblogging#this is what makes us girls#just girly things#this is a girlblog#just girly thoughts#just girly posts#girlhood#i'm just a girl#hyper feminine#girly things#pinterest girl#it girl#dream girl#femcore#femcel#the female gaze#girl blogger#gaslight gatekeep girlboss
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I'm kinda new to the cr fandom so i only know c1 stuff... could you write something with the prompt "is it okay to hug you?" from the part 2 list! Maybe something with the party having a s/o who struggles with touch and being vulnerable who has been having a very stressful day? Cries easily when they are frustrated or upset? 😢 If thats too much maybe just something with Vax or Percy cause i love them the most. 💖
sorry this is so late! it’s been sitting in my notes for ages, i’ve just been too busy to post it!
S/O who struggles with touch has a stressful day!
Vax
Vax never really has an issue with the lack of touch in your relationship
Sure, he likes to hold your hand, but it’s not the end of the world if you don’t want to
He’s able to fluster you with just his words anyway
But when you come home one day with tears in your eyes and tension in your back, Vax is unsure of what to do
His first instinct is to reach out to you. It’s what he does for Vex and the others, so why wouldn’t he?
He stops himself when he remembers how much you dislike being touched without express permission
Even when you start crying, Vax doesn’t want to make things worse, so he just stares at you as he tries to ask what’s wrong
You look up at him through tearful eyes and ask ‘Can I hug you?’
Vax is immediately scooping you into his arms, letting his warmth invade your senses and comfort you
He tentatively begins to rub a hand up and down your back, continuing when you don’t tell him to stop
He’s relieved, in all honesty. He’s relieved he can help you and he’s honored that you let him hug you in such a moment of need
When you finally calm down enough to talk, he draws away to give you some space
His fingers stay connected with yours though, as you won’t let him go
He smiles at this, before pressing a kiss to your head
‘I’m sorry you had such a hard day, sweetheart. I’ll be here as long as you need me to be’
And he is 🖤
Grog
It took Grog a while to understand your reluctance in touch
It wasn’t that he thought it was weird, he just couldn’t read the signals as to how uncomfortable you were with his physical affection and you didn’t want to say anything
Finally, though, you told him about how you weren’t the biggest fan of touching
He nods, but it doesn’t fully register
Still he tries his best to remember, but he forget sometimes
He apologizes when he forgets and you can’t really get mad at him when he’s so genuine
When you come back home from a really rough day, Grog can instantly tell that something is up
He’s not the smartest, but when it comes to your happiness, he’s learned to become more attentive
He also knows that you don’t always want to be touched when you’re like this
(Pike had reminded him enough that it stuck with him)
So he watches you until he really can’t stand the sight of it anymore
‘Can I hug you?’
You look up at him with tears ready to fall and nod
Grog gives the best comforting hugs. He’s gentle but firm and he won’t let go until you ask him to
He’s not perfect, but he’s trying
Percy
Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III was never a man who thrived in touch
He rarely initiated physical contact with you and whenever he did, he asked for your permission first
It was like he already knew about your dislike for touch without you even telling him
(He definitely did. He’s observant enough to see your subtle emotions and tells)
You were perfectly content with a dynamic mostly built on quality time and acts of service, rather than physical affection
This wasn’t always the case though
You had had a particularly hard day at work. There was so much to do and you felt like not enough time to do it all
So, when you walked into Percy’s Tinker Room, he instantly noticed your tense demeanor
He is the king of stress himself, he knows the signs
However he doesn’t know what to do. He knows that he likes to be alone when stressed, but by seeking him out you seem to want to be around him
He contemplates in his head for a moment as you tell him about your day, waiting for you to finish before he stands up and comes over to you
‘May I hug you, darling?’
You immediately look at him, before barreling into his arms
He’s quick to wrap them around you, pressing a light kiss to the crown of your head as he tries to ground you
He’ll hold you as long as you want. He’ll even offer cuddles
Needless to say, he’s done working for the day. You need him and that’s 10x more important than anything else
Scanlan
It took Scanlan awhile to adapt to your feelings on touch
He’s a naturally extroverted person and he’s usually the first to initiate physical contact with anyone, so it’s an adjustment for him
However, once he finds out that it’s even more fun to fluster you with his shitty pick-up lines and love songs, the physical touch thing becomes easier
He slips up every once in a while, but he tries to make it up to you (he is a secret romantic underneath that… sexual persona)
You go find him, sitting with his lute, after an awful day
You were tired, and stressed, and part of you just wanted to go to sleep and wake up when this project you were working on was over
Scanlan knew the minute you walked over to him that something was up
Not wanting to be obvious in his effort to comfort you, and not wanting to touch you when you were clearly already tense, he decided to do what he does best: talk
He began to make small talk, talking about his songs and his day and whatever was going on with his friends
He thought it was working, until you said his name and looked up at him with tired eyes
‘Can I have a hug?’
He was stunned for a moment, obviously not expecting it, but he got over it quickly
He lightly wrapped himself around you, holding you close and just letting it be
It was rare that Scanlan was so silent but, for once, the only sound was breathing
It was a small moment, but it was more than enough for you
Keyleth
Keyleth was awkward at first
Not because she had a hard time without physical affection, but more because she didn’t know what to do in general
Romance was still foreign to her
Still, she read your body language with perfection
You didn’t even need to tell her that you didn’t like physical touch… she just knew
You were thankful for that
It had been a stressful day and you were really just looking forward to hanging out with Keyleth
Sitting in the forest and listening to her talk to the plants always calmed you down
But even as you sat there, the stress didn’t go away
Keyleth noticed immediately, of course
She’s not great at words but she is more than adept at movement
‘…Is it okay if I hug you?’
You looked up with wide eyes and Keyleth immediately backtracks
‘We don’t have to, of course! You just seemed a bit tense and I thought maybe a hug might help be we don’t have to do that if you don’t-‘
She’s cut off by your arms gently wrapping around her waist
She freezes for a moment, before embracing you
It’s warm and comforting and Keyleth suddenly understands why people like doing this so much
She’ll hold you as long as you need. After all, she’s enjoying herself just as much as you are
Vex
Vex’ahlia is the queen of subtle touches
She loved resting a hand on the shoulders of her friends, or bumping into them playfully as they walked
It took a bit of self-control to not do those things with you
It wasn’t hard, per say. It just required a bit more focus and awareness of her movements
But, Vex would do anything for you, so she learned (quickly, as expected)
It was after a fight, while everyone was setting up camp, that Vex noticed the look on your face
It was the same look she saw when you were stuck on a particular puzzle, or when everything seemed to be piling on your shoulders
‘My dear, are you alright?’
You shrug half heartedly
‘Would you like to accompany Trinket and I on a walk? I think it will be quite relaxing and the moon is especially gorgeous tonight.’
Vex waits for your reply when finally you look up
‘Vex, will you hold me?’
Vex doesn’t even falter
Sure, she’s surprised, but the urge to comfort you overrides everything else
She hold you as close as she can without it being uncomfortable, rubbing circles on your back and whispering sweet encouragements into your ear
When you part, she tells you to take your time joining the rest of the party, before turning around and giving hushed threats to anyone who dares make a comment
You hear them, but it’s endearing. It shows that she care.
Pike
Pike is a very affectionate person
Not in the same flirty way as Vax or Scanlan, nor in the subtle way as Vex
Pike was just a very loving woman. Physical affection (including hugs) were just commonplace to her
Which is why she was a little stunned when you told her that you weren’t too fond of physical touch
It was hard for her, at first, because she had to find new ways to express all the love that she had for you, but your comfort came before everything
She always asked before initiating anything and you were always so thankful for that
One day, you came back to find Pike kneeling in the garden, mumbling under her breath
You assumed she was praying (for what, you weren’t sure) but you really needed her
Today had been hell and Pike had always known how to make you feel better
Sitting behind her, you gently rested your head on her shoulder
She tensed, knowing it was you, but confused by the display of touch
Still, she didn’t saying anything
‘Pike…’
She knew with that one call of her name what you needed
‘Do you want me to hug you?’
A small nod was all it took for Pike to spin around and gather you in her arms
Her hugs were like sunshine embodied
You felt all your stress and tension slip away as she held you close
Maybe she was a God herself, with the way she made you feel so safe in her embrace
#critical role#critical role imagine#critical role x reader#critical role c1#critical role campaign 1#tlovm#tlovm x reader#vax'ildan#vax x reader#vax'ildan x reader#grog strongjaw#grog x reader#grog strongjaw x reader#percy de rolo#percival de rolo#percy de rolo x reader#percy x reader#scanlan x reader#scanlan shorthalt#keyleth#keyleth x reader#vex'ahlia#vex'ahlia x reader#vex x reader#pike trickfoot#pike x reader#vox machina#vox machina x reader
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I am afraid worms have invaded my brain and they are eating away at everything that is not OUR LIFE SWAP AU
This is an AU in which Baxter is your best friend that moved in town when you were 8, Cove is the boy from the city you met when you were 13, and Derek is the boy who comes into town for the summer when you're 18. This one is a reworking of the original "Mountains" scene.
OG Swap here -- another part here -- another here -- one more here
In the ten years you'd been friends, you and Baxter had rarely gotten into any arguments. You both just got along so well, and he was agreeable to a fault, always so against being confrontational or divisive. And so for all this time, with maybe just a small handful of hiccups, you'd just gone on easily, having a grand time together.
But that night, as he sat on your bed watching you pack your things to go on a camping trip with Derek, he seemed perfectly willing to fight.
Derek had rented the empty condo across the street from you for the summer. He was a year older than you, a college athlete, and he was doing some private training with a coach in the city. That weekend, he had a few days off and he'd wanted to go camping in the mountains. He'd asked you to join him, and you said yes. He was sweet, and it was easy being around him.
Baxter, meanwhile, was being anything but sweet.
"You're the mountain boy," you told him, trying to pull him out of whatever funk he was in. "What do you think, will I need a jacket?"
"And proper shoes," he said quietly, arms and legs crossed tightly. "You'll want to bring something for the weather too, the forecast is calling for rain."
"What would you suggest? Raincoat? Umbrella? Poncho?"
He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. You waited, but he wouldn't speak.
"What is it?" you asked.
He looked up at you -- a glare, almost -- and said, "I would suggest you not go at all, but it seems you've made up your mind."
"What's the issue with me going?" you asked, getting even more confused than you had been. "I'm not going to be gone for long, just a couple of days."
"It's not that."
"Then what is it?"
He paused, then, keeping his eyes down this time, said, "You don't know him."
"Derek?" you asked. "Sure I do. We've hung out plenty of times. You've hung out with him too, he's the most harmless guy on the planet."
"But you're going to be going off alone with him, hours away, together in a tent in the middle of the woods," he argued.
"And?"
You studied him, trying to understand why he was reacting so strongly to this. You couldn't see a clear answer on his face, but you did see he was digging his fingernails into his arms.
"Seriously, what's the problem?" you said, sitting down beside him and grabbing his hands so he'd stop. "What's going on?"
Baxter still didn't seem eager to talk about it, but something in him softened when took his hands. He held them gently, running his thumb over your knuckles, and said, "He likes you."
"No, he doesn't," you said quickly, sure that wasn't the case. "We're friends."
"You can't possibly be this oblivious," he muttered, and you yanked your hands away from his.
"If you're going to be rude, then you can leave," you told him, getting angry.
"I'm not trying to be rude, I'm trying to get you to understand that perhaps going off for a jaunt in the woods with the Incredible Hulk that you've known for approximately two minutes isn't the smartest plan."
You'd been getting angry before -- you were fully there now.
"I'm not stupid," you said, standing up again, "and you're being a jerk. What do you think he's going to do, abduct me or something?"
Baxter stood as well, and took a step closer to you. He was so slow to anger, except when he pointed it inward, but it felt like he was staring daggers at you now.
"I just want you to be safe," he said sharply. "I care about you very much, and I --"
"If you care about me, then trust that I can make my own decisions, I'm not some dumb, helpless --"
"I know that!" he said, near yelling, moving closer still. "That's not what I'm saying, you're not listening to me."'
"I am listening to you, you're --"
"You're not," he said firmly, closing the distance between you entirely. "I don't want you to go off with some handsome, well-mannered boy who obviously has feelings for you. That's what I'm saying."
"Why?"
"Because I do know him, and I know exactly how charming he is. I know he wouldn't hurt you, but I ..." he trailed off, running a hand through his hair. His anger was turning into anxiety.
"You what?" you asked, softening. "Please just talk to me, Baxter."
Instead of talking, he took you in his arms. Surprised, you hugged him back. Then you felt his breath, hot against your ear, and he said something so low you barely heard him.
"Please tell me you won't sleep with him," he said.
Appalled, you pushed him off of you. Your anger had returned tenfold.
"What are you talking about?" you asked, the frustration clear in your tone. "I'm not even dating Derek, but it's not any of your business what we do anyway. Why you even care this much?"
He didn't say anything, and he wouldn't meet your eyes again. You knew this phase of the Baxter emotional cycle -- he was shutting down.
"Go home," you said finally.
Without looking at you, he swiftly moved to leave your room. You heard his footsteps go down the hall, and after a moment you heard the front door shut.
Then you heard your phone go off in your pocket.
It was a text from Derek that read, "Hey! Excited for tomorrow?"
"Yep!" you replied. And you were. Baxter wasn't going to ruin that for you.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The next morning, you met Derek at his condo, and you left bright and early. He was all smiles and laughs and brightness, and the drive to the campsite was fun. It was always fun with Derek.
He took the lead when it was time to set up your things, not wanting you to lift a finger as he put up the tent. You did anyway, of course, and it was obvious how much he appreciated it.
It was getting into the evening after it was all said and done, and Baxter had been right -- the rain did come. Derek didn't mind, he just pulled you into the tent and zipped it up until it passed. And with his warm presence so close, you didn't mind either.
You set about situating your sleeping bags and the other things that you'd brought into the tent with you. When you were done, you still heard the rain falling.
"Guess this is it for tonight," Derek said, not sounding too bothered. "Don't worry, it's supposed to be clear tomorrow. It might be muddy, but I think we'll still have fun."
You smiled at him, happy to be spending the time with him. You hadn't known him too long, Baxter was right about that, and you didn't think he liked you, at least not in a romantic way. But he was a good guy. And it felt nice to be here with him.
"So, how do you want to pass the time?" he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.
"This is your trip," you told him, playfully nudging his shoulder. "You go first."
"Ok," he said, then approached you. Before you knew it, his arms were locked around your waist, pulling you in tight against him. He smiled, looking proud of himself.
"I made my move," he said. "Your turn."
You pushed everything out of your head -- your fight with Baxter, your years-long crush on him that hadn't gone anywhere for so long you thought it never would. Your reservations, your fears, your nervousness, you shoved it all away and put yourself firmly in the moment.
Then you kissed him.
#our life beginnings and always#our life#olba#baxter ward#derek suarez#our life baxter#our life derek#baxter x reader#baxter x mc#baxter x you#derek x you#derek x reader#derek x mc#our life swap au#derek suarez x reader#baxter ward x reader
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I especially hate that Catra was always invading Entrapta’s space. Like… It’s a teenager being weird and touchy and creepy towards an adult. Just imagine, reverse the ages, and tell me that doesn’t scream ‘predator’. Idk what the writers were thinking, but the fact that Catra is doing this a lot with an autistic adult really irks me. Are they implying something there? Because idk WHAT THE FUCK it’s implying, but I don’t like it and I feel like it’s intentional.
Anyway… Something something Catra is a teen being creepy to an adult. Something something predatory. Something something character ages. Something something treating autistic people like they’re oblivious, dumb, or younger children. You probably know what I’m trying to say here…
I agree, though I firmly believe that Entrapta was not initially planned to be an adult. I always thought she was the same age as the other characters due to her young appearance (like they didn't even try to make her look a little older?). I think the crew only decided to make Entrapta an adult later on so that shipping her with Hordak wouldn't be creepy.
But yeah, it doesn't help that an autistic adult woman is infantilized and bullied by literal teenagers. And rewatching Catra being inappropriate with her is also a HUGE red flag that is rarely called out.
Really, the problem with SPOP is that a lot of its issues seem to be poorly thought out. Catra and Adora being raised as sisters but ending up in a romantic relationship, when apparently they were always "the heart of the show". Catra being a WOC despite having no canon basis, and yet still being a stereotype that WOC (or latina women more specifically) are abusive and "savages". S/pinnetossa also being an "angry black woman x calm white woman" ship. Double Trouble, a canon trans/non-binary character, being a lizard that disguises as a little girl only to get money. Bow being the black best friend that gets little to no character development. So on and so forth.
I'm sure most of these issues weren't intentional, but that is not an excuse, because in the end it teaches wrong things to its young audience.
(Please do not harass the crew members.)
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Pacific Rim: Ascension is pretty good, actually
So yeah, Pacific Rim: Ascension is a prequel novel to Pacific Rim: Uprising, and based on that you might think it wouldn't be that great. But IMO, it's very much worth reading for a number of reasons.
The author was clearly very familiarized with the lore developed for PR1, and actually integrates a lot of it into the story in a way that gives it a sense of depth, reality, and drama that Uprising and The Black lack. Characters are also generally written well (and Hermann is written so wonderfully well), and Vik and Jinhai's backstories are, in my opinion, extremely engaging. And if you're one of the people disappointed that the Kaidonovskys and Cherno Alpha didn't get more screentime, you are absolutely in for a treat.
For the lore-oriented fans, the author's clear attention to detail means this book is actually a fairly reliable source on what was originally developed for PR1, including Jaeger details and character histories. It does include at least one piece of outdated data (Romeo Blue having three legs), and the story claims that drift compatibility is something you either have or don't have (something we know isn't true from Beacham's posts), but there's no reason to dispute, say, Vulcan Specter having a drill weapon or Shaolin Rogue having an extra-aquatic design.
The book also gives us lots of wonderfully bizarre kaiju. The somewhat frequent mentions of tentacles (forbidden by del Toro) suggests that these are based on very concepts, or were invented by the author himself. Either way, they are absolutely great monster designs. If anything, some of the things these monsters have going on make the movie's kaiju look a little boring.
That said, it's not perfect. Hermann's cane is never mentioned at all, and - well, the rest of the issues are spoilers, so I'll put them under a cut.
We learn that some people have apparently been using Pons technology to implant programming into people's minds - a detail which ultimately has no relevance on the plot, and feels weirdly edgy for Pacific Rim. And I know it's a common trope in sci-fi, but its proximity to right wing conspiracy theory bullshit makes it... not exactly my favorite trope. I don't know whether its presence in sci-fi is really super problematic, but in real life belief in this kind of thing has been used to basically justify witch hunting. Like, I understand the dramatic value here, but at the same time, people still living today were put on trial and even sent to jail based on belief that this was a real thing. Like I'm not going to tell you that this is an Objectively Bad Trope, but it's definitely a trope with a lot of terrible baggage.
The story also gives an explanation for how it was worked out that kaiju blood explodes when exposed to rare earth minerals, and it's pretty ridiculous. Supposedly a kaiju's blood rained down on a microchip factory, and the factory exploded. Accepting this detail means accepting that nobody's phones, laptop computers, or other electronic devices never came into contact with kaiju blood splatter or mist, and that kaiju blood never splattered into a damaged conn-pod. This is the kind of thing that should have been observed fairly early in the kaiju war, not several years in.
Also the PPDC in this book apparently just classifies information for No Real Reason, like the fact that a particularly violent kaiju cult tried to destroy the world. Like you'd think that this would be the kind of thing they'd want to broadcast, for reasons of "hey look how awful our political enemies are."
Also lol the fact that PPDC records pilots' drift memories and just peek into them is creepy. Like it doesn't exactly make Mako Mori look good when we learn she's been invading cadets' privacy like this, ya know?
But yeah like, I think it's definitely worth a read. The book shows a lot of imagination and makes good use of Pacific Rim's worldbuilding. Even if you don't like Uprising, you'll probably still find something to enjoy about it.
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Oh you HAVE to tell me about this green blorbo 👀
SLEP OMG... YES, I WILL TELL YOU ALLLLLLLLLL ABOUT MY GLOWING GREEN SLIMEBALL LOSER OFC I WILL, THANK YOU BEASTIE 🥹🫂💖
I just finished playing through chapter 2 of C.rypti.d C.rus.h last night (it's the last chappie rn since the game's still in development), so that means I have M.adhous.e M.ik.e on the brain in the worst way 💖
Awwwww look, he's so happy to be remembered/asked about ☺️💖
A few key spoilers for M.adhous.e M.ik.e's story (Chapter 0) are below the cut, fair warning!!
So Mike used to be just a regular human working at the E.lkhor.n County Radio Station. He was an extremely popular radio host there with a group of fans, a producer, and a show that people loved to listen to. I guess you could say he was a bit of a celebrity at the time... right up until he had to promote this sketchy radio ad. Part of it involved drinking a huge case of mysterious energy drinks that turned out to be radioactive (but I mean... that was kinda obvious with a name like Toxic Waste Energy... 😅). Then he turned completely green and died, just like that! Not the most glorious ending in the world, but wait, it gets eeeeven worse...
His job at the station was all that he had, thanks to the shitty people in management who never gave him a chance to experience anything outside of that announcer's booth. No time off, countless graveyard shifts, underpaid, overworked. And even when Mike was dead, he still couldn't be free. He became a phantom that was hopelessly tied to the station, unable to leave or to get someone to help him. He was desperate to get out of that place, to make something of himself! But nothing he tried worked.
After enduring seven years of isolation, he was damn near losing his mind and had lost practically all of his memories, too.
That's when the mc sneaks into his station with their friends and discovers him!! I'm not gonna go into much more detail here because there are chapters of delicious details to read for yourself, and I've already mentioned quite a few important notes here, whoops... hehe. But yeah... the cringefail loser vibes are strong in this one 💖
Plus instead of mc I got Klythe slipping in to do its own thing with Mike hehe ☺💖 (I will elaborate on them soon too because I'm in love with its design already!!)
Anyway, Mike is pretty guarded and aloof, using humor to deflect his insecurities. He rarely gets serious with others in public, and doesn't like showing his softer side to anyone. This guy especially hates apologizing for anything, even if he was in the wrong! He has a reputation to uphold as the E.lkhor.n S.tatio.n Poltergeist, after all!
Despite this comedic asshole facade that he often puts on, he's actually an incredibly lonely guy. His social skills are poor, and he gets into trouble once in a while due to misunderstandings. But he's only had himself, his crudely fashioned water bottle producer "Debbie" and wild opossums to talk to for several years, so it makes sense tbh. He has impulse issues and struggles with social cues quite a bit. Oh, and he loves to be a mischievous little shit, trolling others wherever he wants because c'mon it's funny!! He's driven some cryptids to their wit's end before, and does not care in the slightest. Also the most likely to commit a felony - or felonies, let's be real - and he's actually pretty knowledgeable about subjects that interest him!
The poor guy has been hurt a lot. By that radio job he's been trapped in forever, by ghost hunters invading his space, and by fake fans who just want to get close to him for a bit of the fame. It takes him a long time to trust someone because of how he's been treated. People tend to act like he's a freak or a monster rather than a guy who had a life and tragically lost it at a young age. As if that isn't enough, he struggles with self worth issues all the time. He constantly thinks that nobody cares about the real him, and wonders why anyone would want to even be around him... 💔
My heart truly breaks for this guy man... 😭
So basically, he's got a tough outer shell that's hard to crack; and yet underneath it he's so soft, and genuine, and sweet, and funny... and HE CARES SO MUCH. Mike cares about everyone in his friend group, he doesn't really want to hurt them! He's just a downtrodden ghost suffering under the trauma of his past. Once he gets out of that station and learns a bit more about things, he starts to heal, to improve and get better as a person. Honestly, I just want to be there for him, too. I want to help him in any way I can 🥰💖💖💖💖💖💖
I wanna turn this Mike...
Into this Mike!
Happier, more secure and knowing that he's loved, no matter what 😌💖
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Hi! I have a battle scene that takes place on the coast and a few questions concerning the practical positioning. The defending side A 's cavalry are one of their biggest strengths and include a small section of rare transformative horses that can swim and breath under water. They stand on the coast and surrounding fields. If B, on the offense, arrive on the beach on boats how would A position their cavalry and infantry?
I'm not sure if there is any use in having cavalry on the beach facing the offense. Would they likely position their infantry first facing the sea with their cavalry further behind them i.e. where mounted archers can attack from and move around quickly. Depending on the geography could mounted soldiers charge B's troops once they reach the beach? Or would it just be impractical for the horses (the non-fantasy ones).
The setting is Tolkein-similar medieval fantasy with some more advanced technology in the works.
So, the first thing that comes to mind is that transporting horses by sea is notoriously difficult. I'm not an expert on horse transportation, but from what I remember the stress of transport alone can be fatal, on top of that, their legs and lungs are especially vulnerable while at sea. Finally, getting horses ashore without a full port is going to be extremely difficult without modern amphibious landing craft. So, it's not easy for an amphibious assault force (your second faction), to bring cavalry. Somewhat obviously, if their cavalry doesn't involve living horses, some of these problems may not apply. (Either fantasy animals who have no issues with being cooped up on a ship for weeks at a time, or the undead, or something else entirely.)
With all that said, it is possible to transport horses by sea, but it is difficult. Also, it occurs to me, after writing this, that you specify if the second group had cavalry.
The transforming horses (kelpies, or whatever), might not have an issue with being aboard a ship, and may be able to embark and disembark mid-voyage. It's kind of hard to tell. Depending on how far they can clear the water, they might be useful for eliminating enemy landing craft before they can come ashore. You wouldn't even need that many of them to sufficiently cripple an invading force, unless the capital ships were specifically set up to deal with them and protect their their landing crafts. If the assaulting force didn't know about the horses, they may even be able to take out the capital ships before dealing with the landing troops.
I'm not sure how well horses take to sand, but for infantry, quickly moving on beach sand can be a lot more exhausting than you'd expect.
Historically, amphibious assaults, that is to say, attacking from the sea, is an extraordinarily difficult tactic. These forces are especially vulnerable while disembarking. They're likely to still be reorganizing themselves back into their units. They have their back to the sea, meaning they cannot fall back, and they cannot move forces behind their front line. They are stuck with their distribution of forces. And worse, their chain of command is likely to be somewhat disorganized as well. A lot of modern concepts about amphibious warfare are, just that, “modern,” and have been around for slightly over a century.
Spears and pikes are effective anti-cav weapons, so if the invading troops expect a cavalry as part of their initial retaliation, they can prepare for that.
But, I think, absent additional information, the answer on how to position their forces would be to simply send in their infantry immediately, before the invading force was able to finish disembarking, and cut them down, sending their transforming horses out any reinforcements or supports coming from the invader's ships. It's not even a positioning issue in this case, it's just about driving them back into the sea before they're organized and ready to fight.
-Starke
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#How to fight write#Starke answers#writing advice#writing reference#writing tips#In Scottish Myth Kelpies Drowned Their Riders
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2:46am | what once was
pairing : kenma kozume x f!reader
tags : angst, hurt no comfort, empty relationship, post break-up
wc : 1281 words
you were never a big fan of games really, well, you were never a big fan of multiplayer games, to be precise. you were perfectly content with spending your free time roaming around the cozy landscapes of stardew valley or animal crossing, both which supplied you with plentiful in game friends. that was until you met kenma kozume. all of a sudden you found yourself booting up first person shooters and spending late nights attempting to improve your horrendous aim, with kenma in your ear trying (and failing) to help guide you through the tumultuous learning process.
the late night gaming sessions with discord as your mediator soon turned into shy lunches together in the food court besides your university, which then led to hours spent besides each other in internet cafés, and before you knew it kenma began to monopolize both your spare time and your heart. then there was the one night spent in your apartment, where the line between friendship and something more had been blurred past recognition and the both of you shared a clumsy first kiss to the soundtrack of howl’s moving castle in the background.
you can still recall talking him into starting his twitch streaming, playful boasts about how you could “impress the masses” with your gameplay and help his channel blow up, and blow up it did! kenma captivated the audience with his calm personality and intricate gameplay techniques, even sometimes letting his fans catch a glimpse of his softer side when he’d have you on as an occasional guest. of course tetsuro constantly begged to be featured, but he was always shut down immediately much to his dismay. something along the lines of how his ‘uncouth’ behaviour would get kenma in trouble, is what he’d get told. your heart swelled with pride, watching your beloved boyfriend do what he loves and succeed? there was nothing else in the world you could have asked for.
so when did things start going wrong?
there was no major concerning issue within your relationship with kenma, but rather an accumulation of small things that continued to pile on until you were both suffocated under its force. he’d stopped saying ‘i love you’ as often, claiming that you knew so why did he have to tell you? your appearances on his streams became more and more spaced apart, until you just stopped appearing altogether. he barely had time for you in his schedule despite you rearranging anything and everything you could for a chance to see him whenever he’s free, and if you were able to make plans he started making a habit of blowing them off. on the rare occasion whenever you managed to get together, the littlest things seemed to strike a nerve and sour his mood, cutting the night short. you aren’t sure when, but at some point you were constantly walking on eggshells when it came to kenma.
it’s fine, he’s just stressed, he’s tired, he has too much on his plate, i’m being too clingy, were the excuses you began to repeat to yourself over and over again like a mantra, desperately clinging onto what was left of your first love. at some point they stopped working. you stopped fighting. what hurt the most though, was it were as if he didn’t even notice the shift in your behaviour. maybe you weren’t as important as you thought. what remained of the relationship crumbled on one particularly chilly night, but you had the heat from the tears streaming down your cheeks to keep you warm. he left your apartment without glancing back.
warmth encompassed your body from head to toe, a subtle hint of sandalwood invading your senses as you slowly arose from your slumber. your drowsy vision was met with golden feline-esque eyes pooling with adoration, “morning sleepy head.” kenma’s voice called out for you, a faint whisper as soft as the breeze that swept in through the window that was left ajar. the ghost of a gentle kiss brushed against your forehead, luring you back to the land of the conscious. “ken?” you murmured brows furrowed, an uncomfortable pit beginning to form in your stomach. with fluttering eyes you struggle to focus your sights onto the imperceptible silhouette beside you.
“wait, why are you here?” your lips echoed the thoughts swirling in your foggy mind, unable to logically grasp at your current situation. he shouldn’t be here. “kenma?” you called out once more with intent, a cold chill shooting through your form as you abruptly sit upright rubbing your eyes with desperation. the previous warmth had all but vanished, and the lingering scent of sandalwood still playfully wafting around you as if to mock as you sat in your bed, alone.
everything was a reminder of him–or rather, the lack of him. you were haunted by the memories of what once was, and even though it was cruel, you couldn’t help but hope he was tortured too. the stack of games you’d purchased throughout the course of your relationship now sat abandoned, collecting dust in some corner of your living room as you couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy them anymore without the one who’d introduced you to them.
you no longer ate near campus, opting to reclude to your apartment with this week’s bag of cup noodles and other various microwavable meals. perched on the floor with your laptop set up on the coffee table you aimlessly scrolled through netflix for something to fill the silence surrounding you. it has been almost two months since you broke things off but he still frequented you mind, as you often found yourself wondering about little things, has he dropped out of that one class he hated?, has he reached his subscriber goal yet?, is he doing okay or is he just as much of a mess as you are, or, has he found someone new? you shudder at the thought and your heart pangs.
switching tabs as you fall victim to the curiosity, your search bar autofills and you’re met with kenma’s familiar streaming profile, looking the same as it always had since the day you helped him finalise the colours and overall aesthetic. a selfish part of you was glad that he left things relatively unchanged, for it served as proof of your previous presence in his life. there’s a red blinking button besides his username, signifying that he is currently live and you stare at it for a split second before clicking without a second thought. you make eye contact with your reflection on the black screen as you await with bated breath, once the screen loads you’re met with his face.
this isn’t the first time you’ve let yourself peruse through his socials, but it is the first time you’ve been able to catch him live, able to glimpse at him in real time from the safety of behind your screen. he looks good. he’s smiling, ever so slightly, eyes cast down presumably at his phone. there’s a hint of tenderness in his expression that you’re sure only you can pick up on, as you were once the sole recipient of such soft looks, despite the fact that you were unable to recall the last time he had looked at you so intimately. suddenly your appetite escapes you as he addresses the audience, his golden eyes boring into yours as he announces that there will be a special surprise guest on next week’s stream. you foolishly hope with all your being that he had finally given in to tetsuro, as you shut off your laptop avoid finding out. you immediately regret snooping, as your miserable mind begins to run wild.
# mew’s comments :
omg? me? posting on tumblr? insanity.
this is a really old draft, i'm trying to get around to finishing my old work so i apologise if im a little rusty :')
but yay! hi! i'm kind of back, i've missed it here!
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Created by Mary Jo Duffy in the twilight years of the Star Wars Marvel Comic when nobody was paying that much attention to what they were doing, the Nagai were a blade and knife loving warrior race who are born looking like goths and dress in vampiric black leather. They are invaders from outside the Star Wars galaxy, and in the fashion of barbarians through history, attacked and invaded the weak, just founded New Republic at a low point.
What’s interesting is that Mary Jo Duffy states the Nagai were inspired by Japanese comic books, which is something of a surprise at the early date of 1985, when Japanime was extremely niche. They were named after manly man Japanese comic creator Go Nagai. Their kamikaze attacks, honor code, and obsession with swords and throwing knives were inspired by Japanese culture.
The Nagai are also interesting in that they were created by two female creators, Mary Jo Duffy and Cynthia Martin, at a time when women artists were rare in mainstream comics. Perhaps the fact the comic was about to be canceled and Star Wars was essentially over by 1985 had something to do with it. Shame, I always thought it was cool that in these last few issues before the end, Luke Skywalker used a lightsaber knife (shoto) along with the lightsaber, in the style of Samurai warriors. This was a sign of how absolutely weebed out the last years of the Marvel Star Wars comic were....absolutely tedious today, but interesting and ahead of its time in 1985.
I’m somewhat astonished that this evil goth warrior race hasn’t made a return as villains. Surely the Nagai must still be out there. Cosplayers would love it. If they introduced a sad pale sexy vampire guy who looks like Souxie Sioux, I all but guarantee he’d be superpopular.
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On February 6th, Tucker Carlson spent more than two hours interviewing Vladimir Putin. The interview later aired, in a version dubbed by what would appear to be Kremlin-provided translators, on Carlson’s Web site, one of Russia’s main state television channels, and the Kremlin Web site.
What Tucker Carlson Saw When He Interviewed Vladimir Putin
More than anything else, Carlson seemed surprised: by the fact that he got to interview Putin in the Kremlin and even film himself sharing some post-interview impressions in a room full of lacquer and gold leaf; by what Putin said during the interview; and by the man himself. Putin used the interview to deliver a lengthy lecture on the history of the Russian Empire, the Soviet Union, and its aftermath, meant to convince viewers that Ukraine never had a right to exist. When he was done with the lecture, he segued into a litany of grievances against the West, where several generations of Presidents, Prime Ministers, and Secretaries of State have, according to Putin, let him down or ghosted him. After the interview, an incredulous Carlson held up a gray cardboard folder with a little rope tie: Putin had given him copies of documents to back up his historical claims. Carlson hadn’t opened it yet. “I thought he was filibustering,” he said, still apparently reeling from the history lesson. “But I concluded after watching all this, no, that was the predicate to his answer: the history of the area and the formation of this country and the connection to Ukraine is part of the basis for his Ukraine policy.”
The content of Putin’s conversation with Carlson was barely distinguishable from the content of Putin’s rare speeches and so-called press conferences and hotlines—annual hours-long, highly orchestrated television productions. Putin’s obsession with history is genuine, as is his belief in a narrative that justifies, indeed makes inevitable, Russia’s war against Ukraine. That Carlson was surprised suggests that he either didn’t watch Putin’s earlier appearances in preparation for the interview, or that, despite copious evidence to the contrary, he imagined that Putin the man would match Putin the role: a dictator whose opponents get killed and jailed and who invades neighboring countries ought to be larger than life, terrifying in person, and certainly not boring.
Carlson emerged from the interview shaking his head. “Russia is not an expansionist power,” he said. “You’d have to be an idiot to think that.” Actually, you might look at the evidence—the invasion and de-facto control over about a fifth of Georgia in 2008, the annexation of Crimea in 2014, the continued occupation of about a fifth of Ukraine and the ongoing offensive there—to conclude that Russia is an expansionist power. During the interview, Putin gave every indication that he thinks of former imperial possessions as still rightfully Russia’s. That would include not only former Soviet republics but also Finland and Poland. “The professional liars in Washington . . . are trying to convince you that this guy is Hitler, that he is trying to take the Sudetenland, or something,” Carlson continued. “Not analogous in any way!” In fact, Putin had clearly, and more explicitly than ever before, channelled Hitler during the interview. This is what a tyrant looks like: small, and full of tedious resentments.
What Putin Saw When He Was Interviewed by Tucker Carlson
Here was an easy mark. Carlson meekly tried to interrupt Putin a couple of times, to ask a question he seemed stuck on: Why hadn’t all this history and these territorial issues come up when Putin first became President, in 2000? It was an ill-informed question—Putin has trafficked in historical revisionism from the start and became increasingly obsessed with Ukraine after the Orange Revolution, in 2004—and an easy one for Putin to ignore. It seemed to show that Carlson was less well briefed than Putin, who dropped biographical trivia about Calrson into the conversation, a trademark intimidation tactic of a K.G.B. agent. He mentioned, for example, that Carlson had unsuccessfully tried to join the C.I.A.
Carlson didn’t interrupt or challenge Putin on the many—too many to count—occasions when Putin told falsehoods about the history of Ukraine, the dissolution of the Soviet Union, the relationship between Russia and NATO, probably his conversations with former U.S. leaders, and, perhaps most egregiously of all, the Russian Army’s withdrawal from the suburbs of Kyiv after a month of invasion in 2022. Putin claimed that this was a gesture of good will aimed at achieving a speedy negotiated peace; in fact, it was a military defeat. This would also have been a good moment for Carlson to ask Putin about the well-documented war crimes Russian soldiers allegedly committed during that month of occupation. He passed up this opportunity.
Most important from Putin’s point of view, Carlson seemed to share two of his basic assumptions: that the war in Ukraine is a proxy war with the United States and that any negotiations will take place between the Kremlin and the White House, presumably without involving Kyiv. Carlson even nudged Putin to call President Biden and say “Let’s work this out.” To which Putin responded that the message Russia wishes to convey to the U.S. is “Stop supplying weapons. It will be over within a few weeks.”
What Russian Television Viewers Saw
Putin has reprised his history lecture many times. It seems likely that most Russians who watched the entire interview did so out of professional obligation—their job, as propagandists or political appointees, is to amplify and affirm the leader’s message. Ordinary Russians probably watched only outtakes and commentary. What they saw was that something momentous had happened: one of the most popular journalists in America came to interview Putin and looked like a deer in headlights. Channel One stressed both Carlson’s popularity and Americans’ evident interest in what Putin had to say. Carlson’s promotional video in advance of the interview itself had been watched more than a hundred million times! Russians see Carlson, not unreasonably, as a representative of a future Trump Administration, a preview of the coming America in which the liberals who support Ukraine are finally displaced.
What Tucker Carlson’s Viewers Saw
It’s hard to imagine an American viewer who would make it past the first ten minutes of Putin’s monotonous history lecture. (In the interview, Putin called it one of his “dialogues,” betraying either his ignorance or his idea of what constitutes a dialogue; the Kremlin translated “dialogues” as “my long speeches.”) The translator or translators generally cleaned up Putin’s prose, smoothing out passages that, in Russian, made no sense. For example, responding to Carlson’s question about a possible invasion of Poland, Putin said, in Russian, “Because we don’t have any interests in Poland nor in Lithuania—nowhere. What do we need it for? We just don’t have any interests. Only threats.” The translator rendered it as, “Because we have no interest in Poland, Latvia or anywhere else. Why would we do that? We simply don’t have any interest. It’s just threat mongering.”
In another exchange, the translator took liberties to make Carlson appear more dignified. When Carlson asked Putin about his obsession with fighting Nazism eighty years after Hitler’s death, the President said, in Russian, “Your question seems subtle but is very disgusting.” In English, though, Putin appeared to be praising Carlson’s question as “subtle” while Carlson himself, according to the transcript, called the question “quite pesky”— the words were actually spoken by Putin’s translator. However obscure the subject of Putin’s discursive exercise was, the genre probably looked recognizable to Americans. This was a conversation between an older man who has read a history book and fancies himself an expert and his eager nephew, who is trying to feign knowledge in a subject he failed in college. Except one of these guys reaches millions of viewers and the other has nuclear weapons.
What I Saw
I can’t get one passage out of my mind. In the history-lecture portion of the interview, when Putin got to 1939, he said, “Poland coöperated with Germany, but then it refused to comply with Hitler’s demands. . . . By not ceding the Danzig Corridor to Hitler, Poles forced him, they overplayed their hand and they forced Hitler to start the Second World War by attacking Poland.” (This is my translation.) The idea that the victim of the attack serves as its instigator by forcing the hand of the aggressor is central to all of Putin’s explanations for Russia’s war in Ukraine. To my knowledge, though, this was the first time he described Hitler’s aggression in the same terms.
Putin has reproduced Hitler’s rhetoric before. Ten years ago, announcing the annexation of Crimea, he seemed to borrow from Hitler’s speech on the annexation of Sudetenland. At the time, I assumed that the language had come from a speechwriter who knew what they were doing while Putin may not have. But the way Putin described the beginning of the Second World War in his interview with Carlson suggests that, although he keeps accusing Ukraine of fostering Nazism, in his mind he might see himself as Hitler, but perhaps a wilier one, one who can make inroads into the United States and create an alliance with its presumed future President.
It’s telling, too, that Putin took the time to accuse Poland of both allying with Nazi Germany and inciting Hitler’s aggression. As he has done with Ukraine in the past, he is positioning Poland as an heir to Nazism. He mentioned Poland more than thirty times in his conversation with Tucker. If I were Poland, I’d be scared.
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From The Ashes- Chapter 5
Notes: Daryl and Pheonyx finally see each other! They don’t talk yet, not until after Daryl’s POV which is next chapter. I really needed to go in depth with their first sights of each other before moving to their interactions. I’m super excited for Daryl’s POV. There’s lots of denial and internal homophobia but it also will give you an idea of Daryl as a person(At least how I view him as). Also, in regards to Pheonyx’s descriptions of himself and how parts of himself cause him to be misgendered, this is just how it has been for me in the past. Flaired hips and stuff like that are not an indicator for Gender!! But unfortunately things like that are how people “decide” what gender to label people as usually. It’s in now way right, but it’s how I as a trans person have to look at myself in order to try to be properly gendered with strangers.
Taglist: @yoongibaybee
Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @omiyours
Banner by: @liminal-creations
Chapter CW/TW: PTSD, anxiety, self-doubt, internal transphobia, mentions of past abuse/trauma, internal homophobia/biphobia
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The night was long and Pheonyx was tired. He barely slept most nights anyways, but the stress was what was draining him the most. That and the 2 units of blood he donated the day before. He was worried about Carl. Although the boy was doing better since his surgery, the risk of infection and complications were still prevalent. Especially considering there was no access to modern medical amenities. He was worried about the Shadows reaching the farm. With the weakness from donating so much blood and the constant anxiety coursing through his veins, going out to clear the woods and traps would have been suicide. He was worried about all the new people coming to the farm. The four men already set him on edge. Lori wasn’t a problem. Women rarely made his fight-or-flight response trigger. Outwardly, the men seemed nice, especially Rick and Glenn, but that didn’t mean anything. The darkest demons always had the bright faces of angels. The one who really worried him was Shane. After informing him of Carl’s successful surgery, Rick had given him the condensed version of what happened at the FEMA center when he walked in the house at sunrise. He said Otis told Shane to run, that he would provide cover, but the shadows had gotten him. Pheonyx knew it was a crock of shit though. Otis was definitely the type to sacrifice himself to save a boy’s life, but Shane came back with Otis’s gun, he had seen it laid on the counter in the house. How did the older man lay cover fire without his weapon? Shane was lying about something. Pheonyx kept his theories to himself, though. He knew if he told Hershel, his stepfather would insist on kicking all the new people out. Despite his anxiety with the strangers, his conscience couldn’t handle being the catalyst to throw out a group of people into the world as it was. It would be a death sentence.
He was worried about the little girl that was missing. Those woods were his home and he knew them better than anyone else in the family. Which means he knew how dangerous they could be. A scared little girl running around with no known survival experience? With shadows wandering around waiting to eat any living thing that crosses their path? Her likelihood of survival was small. If he hadn’t needed to stick around to provide blood for Carl, he would have spent the night searching for her. He wanted to leave at first light, but Rick insisted he wait until the rest of the group got to the farm. Apparently they had a proficient tracker in their group, and the sheriff wanted both of them–and Kismet– to lead the search for the girl. It made sense but that didn’t keep Pheonyx’s skin from itching with the need to leave before more bodies invaded the farm.
His issues with strangers stemmed from many different things. When he was younger, after his mother had removed him from his abusive father’s clutches, he avoided new people like the plague. How could he trust anyone when the person he was supposed to trust most in the world had torn his body and mind apart? It took years for him to open up to anyone outside his family. All the progress he made, in regards to his fear of strangers, was destroyed when he turned 22 and ended up in the hospital, clinging to life and broken inside. 6 years later, even after leaving Georgia and seeking counseling, he hadn’t shaken the fear that coursed through his veins when he had to interact with new people. It wasn’t social anxiety. It was fear of being hurt. Fear of being outed. Fear of someone finding out he was trans and hurting him again. Fear of the invisible dirt that still clung to his skin sometimes. Fear of being used and being helpless. Fear of being destroyed. The world falling apart didn’t help matters. He was even more fearful of other survivors. The will to survive was a powerful motivator and good people rarely made it out on top. People who were willing to destroy, pillage, and hurt were the ones who lived.
Despite his fear, Pheonyx was currently leaning on the railing of the front porch as he waited for the other members of the group to arrive. His eyes were focused on the dirt road that led to the house. Sweat was already forming on his brow, a sign that the day was going to be sweltering. Pheonyx opted to dress coolly, a simple pair of men’s jeans–that were frayed and dirty at the knees from his frequent hunting trips– and a gray tank top. The tank top was for comfort but also to make himself look more masculine to the newcomers. Being misgendered was a huge fear of his. This was rural Georgia, the reactions of people figuring out his gender could be violent. So, he wanted to appear as “manly” as he could. Pheonyx was lean and he couldn’t help the flair of his hips that was often deemed “feminine”. The softness to his jaw and the roundness of his backside were also causes of his being misgendered. But the tank top allowed his muscled arms–covered in intricate art– to be exposed. Farm work and bow-hunting had shaped his tanned biceps perfectly. They weren’t massive but watching the muscles flex and the tattoos on his arm move was very affirming. The flatness of his chest also helped his gender euphoria. He needed the edge of that euphoria to get through this meeting. Along with the masculine clothing, he adorned himself with his weapons. He had his bow and quiver slung across his shoulder. The heavy weight of the cutlass and Glock on his hips provided him a small amount of comfort in the moment. He also had a hunting knife sheathed next to the gun.
Pheonyx wasn’t the only one waiting for the others. While Rick, Lori, and Hershel were inside with Carl, everyone else was outside in the front yard. Glenn and T-Dog were conversing quietly but everyone from the Greene farm was quiet. Most were still in shock over the loss of Otis. He did catch Maggie sending careful glances over to the young Asian man and had to stop himself from smiling a bit. Unlike Shawn, Pheonyx wasn’t the overprotective big brother. He encouraged his sister to date and form connections. Which was slightly hypocritical considering he avoided dating and relationships like the plague. He lied to Maggie about going on dates. He didn’t want her to worry about him, but the pain from 6 years ago still had a deep grip on his heart. And he couldn’t bring himself to trust anyone. He had hookups, only with women, never cis men. But even those were few and far between. Love was something Pheonyx wanted, but the initial hurdle of letting someone behind his barriers was the problem.
Kismet–who had been snoring on the porch next to Pheonyx– was the first to hear the caravan of vehicles. Ears perked, he leapt to his feet and his tail began to wag. Despite the plethora of scars from abuse on his speckled body, the pup loved people. Training him to guard had been a bitch. Anytime Pheonyx had Jimmy attempt to attack him, Kismet had jumped into the fray, thinking it was a cuddle game. Eventually the training had set in, but the dog was still entirely too trusting. While he was happy his dog had recovered from the mental scars he’d endured as a puppy, Pheonyx still worried that his love for people might get him hurt one day. He realized he was projecting his own anxieties on the dog but he couldn’t help but worry.
The loud rumble of a motorcycle drowned out the noise of the other vehicles, a large RV and a silver sedan. T-Dog made his way inside to let Rick, Lori, and Hershel know that the rest of the group had arrived. Pheonyx straightened, body tensing, as he watched the vehicles approach. His eyes were drawn to the motorcycle leading the group through the gates near the house. Even at that distance, his green eyes connected with ones the color of the Georgia sky.
The vehicles all parked and the man on the motorcycle stopped closest to the house. Pheonyx nearly tripped coming down the porch steps as he got a good look at the rider dismounting the bike. The man looked like he hadn’t showered in awhile and his gaze had a hard edge to it, but he was still the hottest man Pheonyx had ever seen. He was definitely older than Pheonyx’s 28yrs, with a few crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Short brown hair, perfectly tousled, surrounded a sharp face. Light stubble lined his jaw and his goatee framed soft-looking, pink lips. There were a few gray hairs speckled through the facial hair. A small mole at the corner of his upper lips stood out from the light hair surrounding it. Dragging his gaze from the man’s face, his eyes settled on the man’s arms. The sleeves of his plaid shirt had been ripped off, and Pheonyx wanted to thank whatever god there was for that. It should be a sin to cover up arms that look that good. Dirt and sweat helped highlight every ridge and bulge of the firm muscles. They weren’t the kind of muscles that one gained by lifting weights for hours in a gym, these had been formed by hard work and real life strain. The man’s clothes weren’t form-fitting but Pheonyx could still see he was toned all over. Before that moment, Pheonyx had questioned if he was really bisexual. He wondered if his attraction to men was more jealousy, wanting to be them, as opposed to wanting them romantically or sexually. This man answered that question. He was definitely attracted to men. This man in particular. The man grabbed a crossbow from the back of his motorcycle and held it in his rough-looking hands. Masculine energy absolutely poured off of him and Pheonyx wanted to be on the receiving end of that energy. He wanted the man to press him up against–
Pheonyx nearly jumped out of his skin when Maggie touched his shoulder. She had moved to his side at some point. “I think I found your dark, mysterious archer.”, she whispered in her brother’s ear with a small smile. “Close your mouth, Nyx. You’re practically drooling.”
Pheonyx shut his mouth, his face turning a bright red, and used the back of his hand to check that he didn’t actually have any drool on his face. The man’s eyes had drifted from his when he was dismounting the bike, but they met his again. Pheonyx’s heart, that had been racing from anxiety about the new people, was now racing for a different reason. Heat flushed his whole body and a light throbbing began between his legs. Shame filled his heart and he averted his own eyes from the blue ones that captivated him.
What am I thinking? There’s a little girl missing, Otis is dead, and there are dead people walking around. Now is not the time to be lusting after a guy who is most likely straight, Pheonyx thought. A darker voice, one that he always dreaded hearing, pushed to the forefront of his mind. Even if he wasn’t, why would he want to be with someone like you? You’re just pretending to be a man, just like those demons said–
The dark memories tried to push their way into his head, but he pushed them to the back of his mind. He was drawn from his thoughts when Kismet whined at his side, the dog was practically crawling out of his skin with need to go meet the new people. Pheonyx snapped his fingers to make the dog sit. He wasn’t sure if the people would want a 70lb dog rubbing all over them first thing. Besides the incredibly hot man, there was an older man adorned in a Hawaiian shirt and a bucket fishing hat, a woman with short gray hair, and a younger woman with longer blonde hair. The older man radiated energy that reminded Pheonyx of his Grandpops. That man didn’t have a mean bone in his body and his soul was much too good for the world. The woman with the short gray hair held her arms around her body, as if holding herself together, and he guessed this was the missing girl’s mother. Her eyes glinted with sadness but she held her head high. The younger blonde woman was a bit harder to read but she held her back rigid, trying to appear taller than she was. Pheonyx knew that she was avoiding some kind of pain, putting up a facade of strength.
Lori and Rick came out of the house, Hershel and T-Dog following behind them. The parents were much more relaxed today, and the color had returned to both of their faces. Although, Rick was still a bit pale from donating blood. Approaching the couple first, the man in the fishing hat had a look of concern on his face.
“How is he?”, he addressed Rick.
“He’ll pull through.” Lori smiled lightly and her arm brushed her husband’s, “Thanks to Hershel and his people.”, she looked at each of the Greene family, her eyes stopping on Pheonyx’s form. Gratitude poured from her hazel orbs.
“And Shane”, Rick cut in. “We’d have lost Carl if not for him.”
Everyone looked at the man hanging in the back. His black curls were gone now, shaved to the scalp after he returned with the supplies for Carl. Clothes much too big for his frame hung from him like a blanket. Patricia had obviously loaned some of Otis’s clothes to him, and a roll of anger filled Pheonyx’s stomach. Everyone sent nods and looks of appreciation to the man. Everyone except Pheonyx, of course. He knew the truth. Or suspected it, at least.
“We owe a lot to Pheonyx too. He donated blood. Gave Carl time until Shane could get back with the supplies.”, Rick continued and looked at him. Just like his wife, the sheriff’s eyes leaked waves of thanks.
All eyes turned to Pheonyx, including a pair of icy blue ones, and he had to stop from physically recoiling. He kept his eyes downcast and busied himself with scratching Kismet’s head. The dog was still shaking with excitement and appreciated the touch. Maggie reached out and placed a comforting hand on his back, noticing her brother’s anxiety.
From there, hugs of relief were exchanged in the group. Pheonyx released Kismet from his sit command and warned him not to jump on people. The pup went up to each of the new people, butting their legs with his blocky head in greeting. Smiles lit up dirty faces and Pheonyx felt a sense of pride, knowing that his dog could bring a bit of happiness to people who were experiencing a plethora of hardship. Kismet’s wiggly body went from the young blonde woman, to the woman with short gray hair, to the man in the fishing hat. Each one of them gave him a head scratch and body pat. Lastly, the dog ended up in front of the man with the crossbow. Pheonyx tensed a bit. Yes, the man was incredibly hot. But he also was very gruff and had a hard edge to his energy. Pheonyx didn’t want him to be angered by a rambunctious dog. But his worry was for naught. The man wasn’t as open with his affection for the dog, but there was a whisper of a smile at the edges of his lips. He dropped one of his hands from his crossbow and let Kismet sniff the dirty digits. Taking it as an open invitation, the pup rubbed his head against the man’s large hand. Thick fingers deftly scratched behind his soft, floppy ears and a look of bliss filled Kismet’s chocolate brown eyes. Pheonyx couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous at the attention Kismet was getting from the man. He would kill to have those calloused fingers scratching behind his own ear.
“We’re about to have the service for Otis. If your people would like to attend, they’re welcome to.”, Hershel said to everyone before leading Beth, Jimmy, Patricia, and Maggie towards the copse of trees where they decided to place a marker for the deceased man. With the FEMA center being overrun, there was no chance of getting Otis's body back for a burial. So early that morning, Jimmy and Glenn had started a large rock pile as a memorial for the man who gave his life to save Carl’s.
Everyone gathered around the tribute. Choosing to stand a few feet away from the service, Pheonyx quietly told Kismet to sit and placed his hand on the dog’s head, more for his comfort than Kismet’s. The only sounds around them were the sniffling from Beth and Patricia, and the whistling of the trees as a light breeze blew through the farm.
Hershel pulled out his bible, the one his father had handed down to him, and began to recite some verses. Each person, even those from Rick’s group, took turns placing rocks onto Otis’s memorial. Pheonyx tuned it all out, choosing to stare out into the field, watching the tree line to make sure none of the dead snuck up on them. He was only brought back to reality when Hershel asked Shane to share Otis’s last moments. The man protested, panic filling his brown eyes. But Patricia pleaded with him, wanting him to reassure her that Otis’s death had meaning. Pheonyx had to hand it to the man, he did have a way with words. His voice was very reminiscent of a football coach, giving an inspirational speech before a homecoming game. Pheonyx knew he was lying though. He was too detailed. Focusing on small details too much. People who go through extreme trauma like that don’t remember the small details. He sounded like he was reading from a newspaper article. Feeling his anger rise, Pheonyx sneered and turned his head so no one could see his reaction.
Carl and Sophia, think of them. Pheonyx thought and took a deep breath. If Hershel finds out Shane is lying, he will throw the group off the farm.
The only thing he was grateful for was that Patricia was placated by Shane’s words. She was wiping her tears and smiling as Shane placed a rock on top of the pile. Hershel had everyone bow their head in a brief moment of silence for the deceased man. With everyone’s eyes averted, Pheonyx took that moment to step forward and grab a rock from the wheelbarrow. The dirt from it smeared on his hand. The weight of the rock symbolic of his grief, Pheonyx placed the stone on top of the memorial. Those few seconds were all he allowed himself to feel the pain from losing Otis. He didn’t have enough room in his heart for more and a sense of foreboding told him that this was only the first of a long line of deaths yet to come.
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#daryl dixon#Daryl DIxon fic#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl x oc#daryl dixon x oc#twd fanfiction#twd daryl#daryl dixon x trans!reader#daryl dixon x male oc#daryl dixon x omc#daryl dixon x ftm OC#daryl dixon x trans!OC#daryl x ftm oc#daryl x omc#daryl x male OC
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Russification is ramping up again. I say again when I really mean once more for the like 15th fucking time. Zelenskyy has sent out warnings to evacuate the Donetsk region. Which has been SUPER RARE for him to do. (Because he knows, like himself many are reluctant to leave the fight to others or flee their homes.)
Ukrainians are being forced to give up their culture. Their culture is still being bombed to bits. Ukrainian children are being made to only speak Russian. All of this is genocide (though I mean we do have a body count too if you ‘prefer’). I saw people cry ‘fascism’ when Ukraine decided Ukrainian was the official state language and those same people seem perfectly fine with Ukrainians once again being forced to give up their mother tongue in favor of their oppressors’ when surprise Ukrainian being official did NOT mean anyone was being made not to use Russian or any other language.
It is not enough to pray for Ukraine. And it’s getting really fucking stupid seeing people go ‘but but but we can’t donate to the military the military is bad!!’ explain to us how you expect to fight a war without a military. explain to me how you seem to think the Ukr military is anywhere close to American or British or whatever fucking else. Tell me you don’t know how fucking broke Ukraine’s military is without telling me you don’t know how fucking broke Ukraine’s military is. The military is existing out of spite using a shoe string and a paperclip. And how can you be against the Ukr military but say absolutely nothing of all the war crimes committed by Russia’s military? Russia has been reported in the past 24 hours to have killed dozens of prisoners of war. That is the very definition of war crime. But oh no, don’t send ammo to the Ukrainian military!
“But but but Azov!’ shut the FUCK up. Azov’s existence is not a fucking excuse to let the rest of Ukraine get turned into rubble and ash. Nor does it prove Russia right about anything whatsoever and if you think it does your brain is nothing but cotton.
But no instead you wring your hands and go ‘well there has to be a logical reason for this’ when not a single reason given by Russia and P*tin has held up as being the truth. You claim to support the underdogs but when it comes right down to it you hedge your bets with the oppressor instead. We’ve given you the answers and still you seem to think President War Crimes is in the right. When for years we’ve seen you protest against Russia’s other crimes against humanity. Russia has murdered queer people, Muslims, and still you seem to think this time somehow Russia is in the right! President Zelenskyy is a Ukrainian Jew and yet here you fucking are, nodding solemnly that ‘we have to do something about the nazis in ukraine’ because the Kremlin Gremlin says it’s a big issue. You won’t listen to actual literal Ukrainian Jews but you’ll listen to Mr. Ex-KGB War Crimes. Any other country invades and it’s terrible. Russia invades Ukraine (after having bullied them for decades) and it’s hunky fucking dorey. It’s hideous. It’s dumb as shit.
We’ll remember who kept insisting Ukraine deserves this somehow. We’ll remember who actually proved they are our allies. You will have to live with yourself knowing your friends may not consider you their friend anymore because you decided their oppressor was ‘right’. Don’t look to us asking how we survived cause all we’ll have to say is we did it ‘no thanks to you’.
#текст#war in ukraine#once again i never ONCE asked to know what my ancestors felt 90 years ago lmao#the blood in my veins is screaming because my DNA has seen all this happen before
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okay kinda random bc I haven’t seen this season but I saw queen charlotte gifs awhile back and someone was trying to stop the king from being by his wife’s side during child birth (I think ??) and now I’m curious if anyone could’ve stopped Adam in that scenario? I feel like no, absolutely not but 👁️
ooooh my gosh dude okay. okay. OKAY. OKAY!!!!!!!!!!! you have no idea how long, how many Years, i agonized over this topic. AGONIZEDDDD. the constant flipping around between historical accuracy and wanting them to share That Moment and knowing both of their personalities and OH MY GOSSSSHSHDHDJFNEKFJSKDJEKDJDK. alright. let’s get into it.
the fact of the matter is: i have put all 3 of their children’s births into my canon (not Graphically obviously but. the days have been recorded and are on ao3 🫡) so i can explain my thoughts quite thoroughly on how those three magical days went down. i know them quite well!
to answer your question, firstly, (and that scene in queen charlotte IS so good and i love that mini series IMMENSELY) no, there is absolutely nothing that could stop adam from getting to belle. proof of that is right in the movie, with that man doing gymnastic-level LEAPS across the castle roof while being shot at in order to get to his girl!!! so, no absolutely not. he WILL get to belle if needed.
THAT BEING SAID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! adam actually is not present in the room at renée’s birth! there were Reasons i ended up doing this. (and, just to say, i am still REALLY proud of this fic. i had been thinking about that day for years and then it all finally came to me one random night and i am immensely proud of it. plleeeaaassse read it if you find the time 🥹)
anyway, here’s the thing about adam and belle. as MUCH as those two love each other, as MUCH as they always want to be near each other, and invading each other’s space, i really and truly don’t think this particular (albeit, magnificent) event would strike them as something to be shared together. YES, there ARE plenty of recorded points in history when the man, against the status quo, stood by his wife while she had their children. queen victoria is probably the most famous example. and while i DID factor this in, VERY heavily, i just couldn’t shake the feeling that adam and belle wouldn’t be this way. it may seem counterintuitive to some people but listen, they’ve lived in my head for so many years, i just don’t question them much anymore. especially when it’s sort of Against the obvious fluff that i would love to see, ya know?? but here were my thoughts:
i think belle, having lacked a mother-figure and just like, girlhood & womanhood community in general all her life, would sort of Want this day to be a very, well, womanly experience. she only wanted midwives, there wasn’t even a male doctor present (which would have been weird for a queen!!!) and i think she was very intentional about this decision. she’s HAVING A BABY! and she hates that her mother isn’t here to help her through it and i think she’d just really want to take control and make it as special, in this regard, as possible.
(also adam definitely made sure she had the TOP midwives in the country. he vetted them Thoroughly)
and! i really feel like adam would not have particularly Wanted to be present. OBVIOUSLY HE WANTS TO SUPPORT HIS WIFE AND BE THERE FOR HER OH MY GOSH!!!!!!!!!!!!! but, given HIS upbringing, i don’t think he would actually genuinely REMOTELY want to witness a birth. even if it Was the love of his life, even if it WAS his child. he has so many complicated issues around manhood and fatherhood and i think that would kind of cloud any other ideas.
i don’t even think they truly talked about it, just given the times. it wasn’t like belle ever asked “hey do you want to be there?” because husbands rarely were. and she was already very set (and very excited!) about having this very WOMAN!! experience. and adam equally wouldn’t have inquired, already being so clouded with the Everything about it. (and, i think his worry about her having to go through that would trigger him to want to avoid it, unfortunately, but it IS okay since she wasn’t expecting him to be there anyway!)
SO !!!!!!! finding their reasons so very sound, i made that decision and wrote it that way! but the whole first chapter of the fic is adam being an anxious DISASTER pacing the floor just down the hall from The Room so i mean, there’s still plenty of fatherly nerves in there. and after he goes to meet his precious darling, belle tells him how much she wanted him there the moment she was born!!!!! so like. they DO LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH and very much Wanted to be near each other. just not for the birth itself! which is valid and i stand by this decision <3
the other two births are kind of wild lmao. and don’t ask me why! i just work here!!
juliette was born a MONTH early. she’s perfectly okay !!! but just tiny and very unexpected. so unexpected that adam was LITERALLY NOT HOME‼️ ough. not to spoil the whole opening premise of that fic but yeah adam was in versailles doing king things. and belle would have come with him but she was quite pregnant! and carriage rides were UNCOMFORTABLE! (and their toddler is VERY attached to her mama!!!) so belle stayed home. and let me be clear, adam DID NOT want to leave. he knew they only had a month to go and his worries about belle only increased by the day. but belle, Of Course, was like dont worryyyyy nothings gonna happeeennnnnn!!!! he was only going to be gone a week anyway so. WHAT COULD HAPPEN?🥲
i don’t know WHY belle went into early labor, don’t ASK me that, i just WORK HERE, but she did. it all happened quite suddenly and it was the most scared belle has ever been. both because she thought she was going to lose the baby and because adam wasn’t even home so everything just felt wrong. one of her ladies in waiting wrote adam an urgent letter and some galant postman hopped in his horse-drawn carriage and told them to fly like the wind, bullseye!! to get the letter to versailles. which obviously took multiple hours because uhhh country big and horses small.
so this time, belle gave birth pretty scared and also more distressed because she knew adam 1. Was Not There Waiting For Her and 2. WOULD BE LOSING HIS MIND THE MOMENT HE RECEIVED THAT LETTER AND STARTED BOOKING IT BACK HOME! gosh. it’s just a very very stressful day 😭 that fic is INCREDIBLY dear to me though because it’s mostly them FINALLY reaching peace. adam returns and meets his second baby girl and belle is at peace now that he’s back and that their baby is okay. (though,,, i do think belle has some postpartum depression because of how intense everything was, and how worried she still was about juliette. she was just so tiny!!! but she really did handle being an 18th century premie like a CHAMP. at one point adam says “that’s because she’s strong, like her mother” 🥹🤧 so anywayyyy adam wasn’t there for that one either but for a wildly different reason!!! i do truly think that if he HAD been there when belle went into early labor, she would very much have summoned him because i think for a moment she wondered if she herself was going to make it and wanted him with her. (which of course made her more distressed that she literally couldn’t ask for him! AH!) anyway the 18th century was craaaazyyyy lol let’s move on !
last baby!!! le prince!!! hooray!!! okay HERE you go i finally give you the fluff we so dearly crave. ADAM WAS AT THIS ONE!!!!!!!!! it happened for a couple reasons. mostly, it was unplanned, lmao. even though maurice came on time, not early like juliette, the labor was also pretty quick and sudden.
(i didn’t even SAY this earlier but belle was in labor with renée for like a full night and day before she even TOLD adam. she’s so stubborn. like GIRL? i know Exactly how that entire day goes but i haven’t actually written about it. i should though. but she basically avoids telling adam because they had a small but “important” luncheon with some dukes and nobles and such that day and belle was like “well obviously i can’t Tell Adam because then he’ll cancel the thing he’s been super anxious about!” not for a moment thinking about THE OTHER THING HE’S BEEN SUPER ANXIOUS ABOUT FOR THE PAST NINE MONTHS— anyway. she’s ridiculous. adam really had to hold back his scolding when she finally told him but oooooh boy he was PISSED. OUT OF CONCERN‼️ but anywaaayyyyy)
this last labor started in the evening when adam and belle were winding down for the night. the girls were already tucked into bed. adam’s reading a book on the sofa and belle is milling about with some project. and then all of the sudden it’s like WHOAH HEY HELLO ! ! and she HAD felt some slight pains earlier in the afternoon but being her usual “you’d say you were fine if your arm had fallen off” self, she just kind of ignored it (you’d think she’d have learned? after the first two? but no💖) but suddenly it’s like REAL and CANNOT ignore. so she tells adam and he’s like WHOAH !!!! and then he’s like aaahAAHHHH OKAY— and they Start leaving for the hospital wing.
(oh yeah i think renée was born in like this nice medical room of the castle. part of belle’s whole Plan. but juliette was born in the west wing since all that happened so intensely and they happened to be closer to their chambers than the hospital wing. they just needed a BED at that point.)
so anyway, my gosh, MY TANGENTS!! so ANYWAY, they Try to start heading to the hospital wing but belle’s like uhhhhhh frankly my guy i do not think i can do all those stairs. this is Happening. and adam is like oooh my gosh and gets worried and Knows how scared she was last time so with all that adrenaline and Husbandly Concern he just takes control of the situation!!! and says that okay, she’s going to have the baby here, and he’s going to send for the midwives to come up, and he’s not going to leave her side. so he doesn’t !!! he helps belle to bed and steps out of their room and tells the nearest guard to get the midwife girlies !!! (who come and stay at the castle around the six month mark of each pregnancy, just to be able to do check-ups and such) and then adam pulls a chair to belle’s bedside and sits by her.
and he just. like he’s SO scared but he isn’t the same guy he was when renée was born !! he’s been a father for seven years! a husband for NINE! he’s grown A LOT ! he’s still not super excited to witness this but at this point he is fully just concerned about belle. he helps her as much as he can. he gets a rag to dry her sweat and lets her nearly break his hand from squeezing it so hard. and she definitely, (stubbornly), tells him multiple times that he can GO and she’s FINE but he’s like yeah nice try + i’m here now + deal with it. and she does! and the midwives come soon enough and things Occur and adam gets to witness the birth of his SON‼️ im not sure what time he was born but it’s like just before sunrise. like 4am maybe.
(they were all born at night !! renée is born around 11:15pm and juliette is born in the early evening, maybe like 7pm or so. (adam doesn’t show up until like 10 or 11pm😭))
and boy it is a WILD experience for adam, my gosh. obviously none of it is truly processed in the moment, with all the worries and adrenaline and utter JOY upon seeing their baby. and it’s so !!! exciting because the midwife basically cleans the baby up and puts him in adam’s arms without much thought. so they keep tending to belle with the afterbirth and all that, meanwhile adam is like ‼️‼️‼️‼️ holding his baby boy feeling like nothing is real AT ALL. and he cries (he tears up upon seeing aaallll his babies) and he’s just. gosh. so happy. SO HAPPY. so happy that their baby is okay and so happy that his belle is okay too!!! he soon puts the baby in her arms and he kisses her forehead and they can’t stop smiling. and a bit of time later, the midwives give them some time alone and leave for a bit. adam gets up and circles the bed to climb onto his side, and he just wraps his arms around them 😭
this fic takes place a couple hours after all that chaos. it’s early morning and adam eventually goes to wake the girls so they can meet their little brother!!
the silliest part is, that after ALL THAT! i do think that adam and belle would both agree that adam Should be there. so they talk about that “for next time.” but little do they know, baby reecy was their last little darling 🥹🥰 so that’s the only birth adam was at!! but wow!!! wowie i love this family of mine!!💖
#hey uh thanks for that epic thrill ride#i love to talk about my lore more than anything in the whole world#also take a shot every time i say ‘anyway!’ LMAO#ANYWAY!!!! lol thank you so much as always. THANK YOUUUUUU💖💖💖💖💖💖💖#alex tag#answered#batb 2017#batb headcanons#adelle
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The color gang having a nightmare and for some reason that nightmare is one of Mango's memory. They wake up and went to sleep with Mango, Fluff :D
I won't do the whole sleeping with him bit cuz I don't think he'd be comfortable with that in my au (he doesn't even like handshakes, let alone hugs and cuddles) but I'll figure something out.
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When seconds powers awoken, he wasn't aware that one of them involved being able to enter other people's subconscious from a sleeping state.
At first, he had fun with it, entering his fellow sticks' minds and seeing the weird and wacky dreams they had, then seeing the look on their faces when he described that exact dream in excruciating detail.
Other times he'd just let his own subconcious hover over them to make sure they were sleeping peacefully.
Then it began to be...not so fun when he began seeing their nightmares...should've seen that coming, one con was that he felt exactly what they felt in the dream.
Sometimes when he'd enter their minds he'd always come out hurting for them, red still had nightmares about being possessed.
Likewise, yellow still had nightmares watching blue die, blue's was reversed. Green had lingering fears of the others hating him and purple still had nightmares about their father...
He hadn't even bothered to go into MTs mind, at least everyone else talked about their issues so he already had an idea of what he was getting into but mango did not, so he couldn't even infer on what he was gonna see.
Whenever he hovered over him, mango always seemed to toss and turn all night and wake up in a cold sweat, sometimes he'd even talk or rarely scream and wake himself up.
Second was adamant on not invading mango's mind, until they noticed how distressed he'd he when he woke after a certain nightmare. As he slept his arms always seemed to reach out for something that he just couldn't reach and purple encouraged him to see what was up.
So tonight second got in his silk PJs and tucked himself in after ensuring MT had fallen asleep, taking a few minutes to prepare himself he layer back and went to sleep.
He felt his consciousness left his body and he found himself standing over...himself.
He went through the walls and into the others' rooms to make sure they were sleeping, then he went to mango's room to find him tossing and turning once again.
Feels like all he has are nightmares...
He stood over him for a second before he put his transparent hand on his head to go in.
At first it was pitch-black, but not the peaceful kind. It was a type of darkness that leaves you in anxiety and anticipation, like being in an interrogation room and waiting for the guy questioning you to turn the light on.
Then he saw...everything.
It all happened so fast but it felt like forever, and he felt everything. He remembered everyone he saw.
He saw a black and red stick standing over him with a twisted grin as he bled more and more, he saw MT as he was lashed, beaten, slashed and battered beyond recognition.
The chains that wrapped him had been intertwined with razor wire and any move he made was agony until the razors dug into bone.
He saw all of the hellish nightmares that would form right before MTs eyes, the red twitching background that always seemed to change and distort more as his grip on reality slipped more and more, a disturbance in his mind that followed him even today.
He saw a damp, cold and gloomy city filled with vagrants, gangs and drug addicts.
He felt the consequences of long hours of slaving away at many different jobs to so much as afford the basic necessities.
He saw the first time he ever picked up a bottle of alcohol and pills, he remembered all the people he killed, all the fights he had no choice but to partake in.
The only break from the misery came in the few times he saw a kind of light blue stick, but even that hadn't lasted long, his face was blurred and contorted as well.
MT had a hard time remembering Rooneys face but creators face and gaze were seared into his memory.
The pain continued and second nearly puller himself out as the scenes began to twist, contort and fly by faster.
MT was on his knees in darkness, now the one who was twitching with wide eyes as a red flame consumed his body.
He attacked at nothing relentlessly before he mounted on top of something unseen, and let fly brutal punch after bone crushing punch.
Second hears the sound of bones being smashed and blood gushing before everything lights up.
He adjusts to the light and sees my looking at his bloody hands in shock, and second went into shock too.
The person underneath MT, was none other than MT.
It was difficult to make out at first, since his head was crushed into a paste but there was no mistaking the color.
MTs hands fell to his sides and his head drooped down as everything went back to darkness.
Then a welcome respite came, second saw MT picking up a baby from an alleyway and take it home with him.
He saw MT kick alcohol and pills out of his life, he saw him abandon his criminal ways and go on the straight and narrow all for the sake of the child he'd raise on his own.
He saw him working 3 jobs and clock in at 20 out of 24 hours as a single parent, but the smile on his kids face whenever he came home made it all worth it.
He saw all the happy times after he'd finally gotten a house on the countryside of stickcity, going to festivals, playing games together and learning and growing I'm different ways.
He slowly began to let go of all his pain and it had evaporated.
A park came into view and MT got up quickly to go to it.
Second saw the small, golden child beckon for MT before running into the nearby woods.
He saw MT sprint after him despite the physical pain from the previous apparitions.
Second saw vines reach and grab MT to pin him down.
He saw MTs desperate screaming as the small child walked to a group of large black cubes as they took over the woods they were in.
He saw the vines drag MT back more as he screamed desperately for the child, his child, to come back to him.
Second still remembered the anguished scream as the cubes took his child, and all the agony from hears prior come back with a bleeding vengeance before he woke up.
Second was hysterical, ugly-crying in a hazy-red panic for nearly 30 minutes. He was lucky he didn't pass out.
The physical pain still stuck with him for a bit but the last vision will scar him for life.
Green had busted into seconds room after hearing him from the next door and tried to comfort him.
"Second buddy what happened? Cmon, you can talk to me." He said soothingly but it was no use, second was too far gone and had just babbled incoherently in response before burying his head into greens shoulder while he held second tight.
There was only one time green had seen second even close to being this rattled and it was when he had a nightmare of the dark lord killing them all in front of him.
"Shhh it's okay buddy it's okay..." Green rubbed circles on his back and eventually he stopped crying, but not because he cheered up, but because he literally couldn't anymore.
He he sat there, shaking and trying to take deep breaths.
After another 10 long minutes, second had regained himself enough to stifle any shakes but his voice was breaking and his eyes were still red.
"Are you okay?" Green asked finally.
Second didn't say anything and nodded his head instead.
"What happened?" Green asked
"I...I had a nightmare.." second stuttered out through the few shivers that managed to get through.
"Was it the one with the dark lord?" Green wrapped his arms around second again.
"...it wasn't my nightmare..." Green let go of him and looked at him, perplexed.
"Who's was it?" He asked
"...it was mango's." The two sat in silence after that.
"I need to talk to him." Second said as he stood up.
Green nodded in understanding and let him go.
Second stumbled on his feet once he got up and he got lightheaded but steadied himself.
He walked up to his door, knocked and then opened it slightly, not bothering to wait for an answer.
"Can we talk?" He asked quietly.
"...come in." MTs voice rang with a tinge of unwavering hurt that followed him everywhere and he did his best to conceal.
Second opened the door the rest of the way and he saw MT sitting off the edge of his bed with his head in his hands.
Second went and sat next to him, MT seemed to already know what was going on since he caught word from the others of what second could do.
"You were in my head?" He asked
Second nodded
"Please don't do that again..."
"Do you wanna talk about it?" Second asked
"No...you wouldn't understand." He said
"But...maybe if you talked to us then...maybe it could help us understand?" MT shook his head
"Im glad you don't understand...it was horrible and id never dump that much baggage on someone else...be happy you don't understand because to really understand it would be to go through it yourself and I wouldn't wish that on anyone." MT kept his head in his hands.
The two sat in silence for a little bit before second asked him something.
"Mango...how do you move on from something like that...?" Second didn't outright say it but MT already knew what he was talking about.
"You want me to give you a sugar coated lie, or do you want the truth?" He asked
"...the truth."
"The truth is that you never do...a loss like that...you never move on, the pain just makes you stronger, and the stronger you get the less it hurts...but it will always hurt." MT turned to second with his cold eyes that themselves seemed intent to show no emotion.
"How do you keep going then?" He asked
"If I'm being honest...I only have one thing keeping me alive, one person, rather." Second knew who it was immediately
"Purple?" MT nodded
"If purple wasn't here, my life would have ended a long time ago..."
"What do you mean by...that?" Second asked quietly
"...I've said too much..." second thought of the conversation they just had and without thinking, took MT into a hug...
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Been awhile since I wrote anything so I might he rusty.
#alan becker#animation vs minecraft#avm#animator vs animation#avm king orange#au#avm mango#avm mt#ava#usfc#avm green#avm second coming#avm gold
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Illya Muromets syndrome.
According to legends, Illya Muromets (Murovets) was the only son in his family. He was disabled and couldn't even get up on his feet, so he had to lie on a stove. Muromets suffered from his illness for thirty years.
One day, when Illya found himself alone at home, three wise wizards came in and asked for water. Illya really wanted to give something to drink to the travellers because in Ukraine, if you don't offer something to eat&drink, you are considered an extremely bad host.
So Illya forcefully lowered his legs and sank.
- Well, Ilya, you had a great illness and survived. Now you will be happy, your father and mother will be happy, because you will be a healthy and strong bohatyr - the wizards said.
They handed him a mug of water:
- Here, drink this, and then you will feel what will happen to you.
Illya took it, bowed once.
- What do you feel?
- I feel such strength, - Illya said, - that if a ring were to be inserted into the earth, I would take that ring and throw the whole world over.
- Good! Don't flaunt your strength, and don't tell anyone, but do it so that your father and mother are happy with you. Do not do evil to anyone but only do good.
Thus, Illya Muromets became a bohatyr, an extremely strong warrior, who could pull an oak tree out of the ground and use it as a weapon. Although, he still preferred to use his sword and a bow. He protected Kyiv from invaders.
However, even such a strong person had a weakness. To Illya Muromets, it was his land, his ground, both his weakness and strength. Wherever he went far from his land, he took a handful of Ruthenian earth as an amulet. They say, if you take away this handful of earth from him while he's not in Kyivan Rus, then all his strength disappears, and he's not able to stand on his feet again.
Interestingly, you can't find this information in google in public anymore. Most likely, because russians paid to erase it since they want Kyivan Rus to be russian so bad. However, in the RUSSIAN cartoons about bohatyrs, there are plenty of moments when Illya Muromets puts a handful of earth to his chest and speaks: Well, help me, Mother Wet Earth. (Ukrainian saying).
Why do I mention it? Because in Ukrainian society, when you live abroad and miss you land, and you come to a doctor because:
You can't stop losing or gaining weight
You have general weakness, fatigue
Physical activity is harder and harder to do
Insomnia
Depressive mood
Chronic iron deficiency
Alopecia
All of your lab tests are normal (except for ferritin and the vitamins D, B group), so the doctors say it's a neurological disorder/depression
You have the Illya Muromets syndrome. It's a specific type of depression that has no medications from it except for your land in any suitable form. Antidepressants can't fully help you there and will only ruin your liver. In some cases, this disease can lead to cancer or partial paralysis, but usually its manifestation is just "neurological issues". CONSTANT brain&body exercises, meetings with friends, uptake of necessary vitamins and healthy lifestyle help to avoid worsening symptoms, though.
A lot of Ukrainians are suffering from this disease these days. This syndrome is also often observed in Belaruthians and Crimean Tatars, rarely in Baltics and Jews. This disease is generally not typical for russians.
P.S. Taking the history of medicine into an account, most incurable diseases actually have a very simple solution.
#medicine#depression#Kyivan Rus#history#Ukraine#depressive disorder#укртумбочка#укртамблер#immigration
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Its pathetic how you're trans exclusionary and also bisexual & agender. Do you think that if transphobia continues they're not coming for you next? You think you're safe from being called a freak or a pedophile or from being accused of invading other people's spaces? From legislation and the dominant social paradigm othering you and making your life hell? You think throwing others under the bus will save you? You're a fucking coward and I hope you get a sense of reality.
i totally forgot that you even sent this ask because guilt-tripping from random strangers really doesn’t faze me — sorry!
anyways, umm, it’s pathetic how you’re sending random feminists hate mail over something that is literally not even true! i fully include trans and nonbinary people within my feminism — just not transwomen and nonbinary males because i believe female people of any gender still face challenges, discrimination, and oppression directly related to the sex we were born as!
…which wait, before you tell me intersex people exist, i know that! but intersex disorders are medically sex-specific and binary, and in the extremely rare case that a chromosomal male was born and grew up with entirely female external genitalia (usually as a result of Sweyer syndrome), i’m fully open to nuance when it comes to their inclusion within the radical feminist movement, especially given that the trans/qu**r movement has repeatedly ignored the requests of both individual intersex people and intersex organizations to stop equating the trans and intersex experience. it’s not like they can turn to you guys for any actual understanding or compassion.
in my LGB advocacy, trans people are also not excluded based on their gender identity! the only people excluded from my LGB advocacy are heterosexuals — which yes, i’m sorry, i do live in the real world where sexuality is based on actual physical sex, so yeah… “transbians” and “gay transmascs” are generally excluded (those open to or exclusively T4T aside) on the basis that they do not experience same sex attraction. but if you’re not straight, congratulations! my LGB advocacy is also for you.
the “agender woman” in my bio is also mostly a joke, “agender” more as in “atheist” — i do not subscribe to the belief system of gender. although, if i did, that’s probably still how i would describe myself because even if i thought that innate gender identity was a thing for other people, i don’t have one. i don’t identify with femininity. i do identify with my lived experience of being female. idk how else i would explain that in your community without being scalped, lol. and it’s poking a little bit of fun at my teenage self for actually genuinely telling the more micro-label oriented of my peers that the best i could describe myself was as a “demibisexual agender girl”.
if anything, though, the people standing in my way of being freely truly agender and living as a woman are BOTH conservatives and the trans/qu**r movement, because i really don’t want to have to have an ideological argument with either of you about what the fuck my leg hair means, i don’t want to be assigned a non-woman for having body hair and not being extremely feminine by EITHER of you! you are both supporting a dominant social paradigm which others me and women like me, it’s only the way in which you shame me and make me feel like a freak that differs.
i’m fully aware how the American political parties have lumped very separate issues into the same bills and are practicing other nefarious political schemes to remove womens’, childrens’, and LBG peoples’ rights by using the decrease in public support of the trans/qu**r movement to pass bills and laws that otherwise wouldn’t be passed… because y’all keep supporting fucking pedophiles? maybe stop doing that or if you personally aren’t, tell your buddies that trans people can be horrific criminals, just like any other subset of people, because all individuals are different, and murderers and rapists and pedophiles don’t deserve public support even if they’re trans. the fact that the most vocal of the trans community keep defending and supporting convincted pedophiles, rapists, and other dangerous violent criminals simply on the basis that they are trans is a large part of WHY many of us “cis” LGB people are publicly separating ourselves from the TQ+, we know how bad that shit looks and have historically condemned the members of our own communities who have been revealed to be pedophiles and rapists. not to mention the fact that the heterosexual TQs are like, wildly homophobic.
pretending outright that trans people cannot be violent criminals is something that can and rightfully should be criticized — i would criticize the assertion that any protected minority class status makes a person immune to any sort of violent criminology, or otherwise not deserving of facing consequences for committing violent crime, especially sexual violence against children, including the minority classes i belong to. i’m certainly not against trans people recieving proper legal defense, and i believe trans people deserve the same presumption of innocence as anyone else until proven guilty in a court of law… and while i do not believe males belong in female prisons (as inmates OR staff, tbh), i do believe that prisons in general are in desperate need of reform and that that reform should be considerate of the needs of vulnerable male populations such as transwomen and gay men for safety from other men while also maintaining female-only prisons.
i don’t know what you expect me, a poor & disabled woman living in a northern democrat-controlled state, to do about the shady shit happening in Florida and elsewhere in the American south. i’m not even in a position to vote on anything that could be considered “throwing other people under the bus”. the biggest things i’ve voted for were keeping the state democratic, legalizing weed, and protecting the right to abortion. i’m sooo politically evil and throwing so many people under the bus and totally perpetuating a genocide… which i guess if you’re a conservative you could say about the fetuses, but, since you’re barking up my tree for siding with conservatives, i’m hoping that you’re at least fucking pro-choice.
I’m not trying to be mean here, but you kinda came up in my inbox being mean first… so frankly I think you’re the coward for not thinking independently and for needing to harass women who do, and I hope YOU gain some sense of reality, as well as empathy and nuance.
#r#asks#tra hatemail#like… dude i really don’t want personal beef with you#i am genuinely sorry for having to get a little harsh… but you came at me with that energy first#if you have any questions or would like to discuss anything i’ve said further i’m fully open to that#however i’d far prefer the tenor of the conversation to be respectful
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