#not to sound entitled but i think I deserve enough respect considering how long we were together of one more chance to prove I can do bette | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thinkingisadangerouspastime · 3 years

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(pt 1) i really enjoy all your atla analyses & you've done a great job breaking down the usual arguments re how eip shows that kataang shouldn't have happened. i'm curious about your take on one specific argument that i just saw today, in an analysis of the show by a zker that was otherwise quite good and respectful (i know you've already talked about eip a lot, so no problem if you don't feel like rehashing). the premise: aang didn't just pressure katara in eip, he threatened her.

(pt 2) they point to when katara joins aang & asks if he’s alright: “aang: no, i’m not! i hate this play! katara: i know it’s upsetting, but it sounds like you’re overreacting. aang: overreacting? if i hadn’t blocked my chakra, i’d probably be in the avatar state right now!” the suggestion is he’s threatening her when he says ‘i’d probably be in the avatar state right now’ to describe his anger. i think this take exaggerates and oversimplifies it, but interested in your thoughts on it.

Hello my friend!! It is true I am Old inside and don’t like rehashing dhdlksjslks BUT your comments on my posts are always incredibly kind and insightful so I am more than willing to do a bit of rehashing for you 🥰 Besides! I’ve seen this general take before a few times and it’s always irked me for the exact reason you point out - it simultaneously exaggerates and oversimplifies the situation (and honestly that’s an impressive duality since it’s seemingly contradictory, so hats off to them lmaooo) - and now is as good a time as any to address it. So, for starters, let’s go ahead and get the excerpt they love to focus on so much:

Cut to Aang standing alone on a balcony. Katara enters and walks up to him.

Katara: Are you all right?

Aang: [Angered.] No, I’m not! I hate this play! [Yanks his hat off and throws it on the ground.]

Katara: I know it’s upsetting, but it sounds like you’re overreacting.

Aang: Overreacting? If I hadn’t blocked my chakra, I’d probably be in the Avatar State right now!

Here’s the thing about so-called analyses of this excerpt: in a manner extremely convenient to the poster, they never seek to contextualize this moment. (I mean, to do so would deplatform their entire “argument” - perhaps that’s why they avoid performing a full analysis?) So let’s avoid that pitfall from the start.

Firstly, below are some links to related posts; I’m going to do my best to summarize the most relevant parts, but for anyone who desires greater detail, I gotchu 😤

This post explains why EIP (the play, lol) is imperialist propaganda and is intended to belittle the entire Gaang.

This post explains how Aang never acted “entitled” to Katara’s affections, particularly in regard to EIP.

This post breaks down the infamous EIP kiss like Snopes Fact Checker, covering common misconceptions, important perspectives to consider, etc.

Alright. With that out the way, it’s time for some context.

Aang and Katara have this conversation on the balcony after watching 95% of “The Boy in the Iceberg,” a play chock-full of Fire Nation propaganda that demeans the entire Gaang in order to prop up the Fire Nation as superior (hence why the play ends with Ozai’s victory). Here is my general breakdown of Aang and Katara’s treatment in particular from a previous post:

- katara, an indigenous woman, is highly sexualized and portrayed as overly dramatic and tearful, because the fire nation objectifies women not of their own people and views them as less intelligent and less emotionally stable

- aang, the avatar, the sole survivor of the fire nation’s genocide of the air nomads who is incredibly in-touch with his spirituality and femininity, is portrayed as an overly-airy and immature woman. the fire nation portrays him with a female actor to demean him (like, that’s classic imperialistic propagandist tactics) and furthermore writing his character as a childish airhead reinforces the fire nation sentiment that the air nomads were weak, foolish people who did not deserve to exist in their world

In other words, these kids have just watched almost an entire play that preys upon their insecurities and depicts them using racist and sexist stereotypes about their respective nations. It is completely understandable that tensions might run a little high and that their interactions would not be as balanced as usual (Katara and Aang have a great track record of communicating well with each other, as it happens!).

So we have to keep that in mind when examining the aforementioned excerpt. But there are other factors to consider, too! Namely: they are kids. Children. Teens. Aang is 12, Katara is 14.

If we want to be scientific, a person’s brain doesn’t finish developing until they are 25, lmao, and the preteen/teen years are when the prefrontal cortex that controls “rationality,” “judgement,” “forethought,” etc. is still developing. This doesn’t mean Aang and Katara are irrational and make poor decisions 24/7 (obviously not), but it does mean that in an intense, highly emotional situation, like after watching a play that intentionally demeans them and depicts them as inferior, they are more likely to overreact, more likely to be emotional, and more likely to make mistakes. Like, I’m serious, lol. “Teens process information with the amygdala.” That’s part of the brain that helps control emotions! It’s why teens sometimes struggle to articulate what we’re thinking, especially in situations that require instinct/impulse and quick decisions, because we’re really feeling whenever we make those choices. Acting more on emotion. Our brains simply haven’t finished developing the decision-making parts, lmao.

In sum: Aang and Katara are both kids, not adults, and should be interpreted as such. This doesn’t negate their intelligence, because they are both incredibly smart and Aang is arguably the wisest of the Gaang, but they are human. Young humans. They have emotions, and we should not be so cruel as to assume they’d never act on them.

So taking that all together, we can now acknowledge the high stress Aang and Katara are under, understand why they might be upset (*cough* imperialist propaganda is hurtful *cough*), and examine how their youth might play into their emotional reactions. And funny thing - all analyses that come to the conclusion of Aang “threatening” Katara here do not usually bother with this context. I can’t imagine why!

And you know what, let’s add one more piece of context: Sokka states that Aang left the theater “like, ten minutes ago,” which is what cues Katara to go look for him on the balcony. The reason I mention this line is because to me, it suggests Aang knew he was more worked up than usual! He chose to separate himself from his friends so he could process his frustration! He did not take his anger at the play out on them; instead, he purposefully took time and space to be alone.

With that in mind, I don’t understand at all how Aang’s Avatar state quote could be interpreted as a threat? Canonly, Aang is someone who was aware enough of his frustration to separate himself from the others - yet the logical next step is him threatening Katara as a result? He knew his intense emotions were because of the play (which he says himself), so the logical conclusion is that he then pinned the fault on Katara? What?? Sorry, that interpretation has no textual basis, lmao. But I digress!

Aang tells Katara, “If I hadn’t blocked my chakra, I’d probably be in the Avatar State right now!” As you said, this is the line people point to in an attempt to justify their (baseless) conclusion that Aang is “threatening” Katara. So let’s bring in the two key pieces of context: imperialist propaganda and age. Given that Aang is 12, and given that Aang has just watched almost a full play that demeans him and everything his people stood for (and let’s not forget it also mocks his and Katara’s love for each other)…

His reaction is understandable. An exaggeration and needlessly dramatic, but understandable. He feels vulnerable and insecure and Aang is human. He is human and flawed and he overreacts here and I love that A:TLA shows how even our heroes, even people who are truly good at heart and in soul, can get overly upset (especially given the aforementioned circumstances!). Would Aang actually be in the Avatar state at that moment, had it been possible? Of course not! He’s young and he’s hurt and as such he says something dramatic to convey his anxieties and frustrations. The line is not meant to be taken literally, and seeing people do so despite all the factors that should be taken into consideration when analyzing it… Cue a long, tired sigh from me and so many other A:TLA fans.

And to be honest? I cannot fathom how people watch this episode and come to the conclusion that Aang is “threatening” Katara. To me, this episode - besides being a recap episode - is one that humanizes our cast even further. Aang snaps at Katara, kisses her when he shouldn’t (which the story appropriately treats as wrong). Katara pushes down her true feelings and retreats into herself, afraid to start a relationship with the boy she loves because she’s already lost him once before and can’t bear to do so again. Zuko further confronts the hurt he’s enacted upon others, especially upon Iroh. Toph practices being vulnerable and accepting vulnerability from others by conversing with Zuko. Sokka witnesses how others have erased his contributions and labelled him as nothing more than the token nonbender in the group. Even Suki learns that she is not the only person who holds a place in Sokka’s heart and that she can never replace what he has lost.

To watch this episode where our heroes must come to terms with how the Fire Nation deems them inherently inferior, with how they have more fights to overcome in the future with the Fire Nation than a single war, and to come to the conclusion that… that what, Aang is abusive? A monster? Irredeemable? That he would threaten his best friend, someone he loves in every way?

Wow. That says more than enough about the viewer, doesn’t it?

#getting back into the swing of things babey ✌️#aang #katara #kataang #kataangtag #the ember island players #atla #avatar the last airbender #amy answers #dramaticowl #amy analyzes #also i am speaking in GENERAL TERMS here lmaooo this is not a direct response to any one post 😂😂

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blueluneacy · 3 years

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Hewwo, could you write for kalim? Like, he's into reader but they reject him and he's not used to being told no 👉👈

KALIM he is my fucking angel i love him

also those valentines day cards came out and now we have kalim love rights, he calls everyone love

Warnings: sorta obsessive behavior, I wouldn’t call this yandere its more kalim is stupid and thinks he just needs to try harder, reader is a cold mf sometimes

“I’m sure you could share it with another one of your dorm mates. I’m busy, Kalim.” You told him, but Kalim just sighed, looking at you sadly.

“But you’re always busy! It’s either studying, or cleaning up your dorm, or you’re spending time with your other friends. You should try and make some time for me too, you know? Otherwise, I’m gonna get overly lonely.” He pouted. You stopped walking, looking at Kalim. There was a rage in your eyes. He was just so… So… So god damn entitled you considered fucking punching him.

“Kalim. Do you not realize why I’m always busy?” You asked, your voice dangerously low. Part of you felt bad for Kalim for the tongue lashing he was about to receive, but he deserved it. Clearly Jamil didn’t knock enough sense into this boy the last time.

“Eh? I don’t know! Do you have a really packed schedule? I get it, this year has been really tough for me too! I don’t know how I would get through it if it weren’t for Jamil’s help!” Kalim laughed. You just winced. God, every sound he made was really pissing you off right now.

“No, Kalim. I honestly just really don’t want to go and sit around and waste my time drinking tea while you show off.” You said, staring Kalim down. He paused, his face actually a little hurt.

“I… I wasn’t meant to be showing off, really, I just-” He started to defend, but you just shook your head.

“Listen, Kalim, you’re really nice. You are. I don’t want to ruin the good relationship we have, but you’ve got to leave me alone. When I say no, it means no. Got it? That’s honestly a life lesson I’m glad you would learn here, rather than in some… Other circumstances.” You told him, trying to smile. God, it was so hard to be mad at Kalim for long. He just gave you puppy eyes that made you melt. That’s probably why you haven’t ever scolded him like this before.

“But… You don’t hate me, right? I’ve never seen you this angry before, love...” He asked. You sighed, looking at the poor dejected boy, before sighing.

“Of course I don’t hate you. We’ll still keep in touch, and I’ll still see you in class. Just… Tone it down.” You did your best to smile. Kalim loved your smile. Whenever he saw it, it lit up his heart, but he was sad that it wasn’t directly him making you smile! That’s all he wanted to do, really.

When he got back to his dorm, he pretty much collapsed into Jamil, already complaining about the whole situation.

“So you’re telling me I made tea for nothing?” Jamil said, already starting to pour tea for himself. Fuck it, if no one else is going to drink it, he’s gonna.

“I really thought they would say yes this time! Your tea is amazing, they’ve had it before!” Kalim complained. Jamil fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“You told me that you already had a confirmation they were coming this time.” Jamil told him, but Kalim ignored that bit. He just continued on with his moans, looking up at the ceiling.

“I really thought I had it this time! I understand that (Y/n) is strong and cool and independent and stuff, but they can come visit and have tea sometimes, right?” Kalim asked. Jamil just took a sip of tea and shook his head.

“You’ve asked them to hang out in some way or form sixty seven times now. I think you’re being excessive. You’re scaring them.” Jamil said. He was a bit jealous of how easily you could tell Kalim no, that you didn’t want to spend time with him. And to hear you actually snapped at him today, well, good for you. You had earned a lot of respect from him that day, not that he would ever say it.

“Scaring them…? I guess I never thought of it like that. I do ask to do a lot of what I want to do. They said that I was showing off.” Kalim grumbled. He wasn’t used to people ever rejecting him on things like this. Most people always jump at the chance to hang out with him, so it was really painful for the person he liked the most to say no.

“Perhaps you better give up for a while. It’s for the best, you have a history exam this Friday anyway.” Jamil said. Kalim grumbled, looking up at the ceiling, before it hit him. He popped up with a great big smile on his face.

“That’s it! I just need to be casual!” Kalim said, already getting up and starting to pace. Jamil looked up at him, wide eyed, trying to figure out what he meant by that.

“I’ve been way too formal with this, they feel intimidated! I should just hang out with them casually and do what they want! Then (Y/n) will finally realize my feelings!” Kalim said, already marching off to make plans on how to go about this properly. Jamil tried calling after Kalim.

“No, you idiot, they don’t even like-” But Kalim was already gone, a huge smile on his face as made his plans on how to ask you out. And unfortunately, Kalim was going to make sure you accepted his feelings.

#Anonymous #kalim/reader #kalim x reader #kalim al asim x reader #kalim al asim/reader #twst x reader #twst/reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland/reader #my writing #mine #sfw

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flightfoot · 4 years

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Tower of Nero quotes

So since I’m planning on writing some analyses for Tower of Nero, I decided to assemble my usual catalogue of quotes, so I won’t have to constantly flip through looking for them and typing them up hopefully. This is based on the kinds of analyses and things I want to talk about or just found interesting, but hey, I figure other people may find this useful as well.

Beware of spoilers, because no duh.

It was a silly thing to say, but some stubborn part of me insisted that Percy Jackson must be here somewhere, waiting to do dangerous tasks for me. That was his job!

But no. That was the old Apollo’s way of thinking - the Apollo I’d been the last time I was in this apartment. Percy was entitled to his own life. He was trying to have one, and - oh, the bitter truth! - it had nothing to do with me. (TON 37)

“Paul...” I ventured. “Aren’t you worried about having us here? We might endanger your family.”

The corners of his mouth tightened. “I was at the Battle of Manhattan. I’ve heard about some of the horrible things Sally went through - fighting the Minotaur, being imprisoned in the Underworld. And Percy’s adventures?” He shook his head in respect. “Percy has put himself on the line for us, for his friends, for the world, plenty of times. So, can I risk giving you a place to catch your breath, some fresh clothes, and a hot meal? Yeah, how could I not?” (TON 40-41)

What was it about kindness? In my time as Lester Papadopoulos, I had learned to stand up under horrendous verbal abuse and constant life-threatening violence, but the smallest act of generosity could ninja-kick me right in the heart and break me into a blubbering mess of emotions.

Damn you, Paul and Sally, and your cute baby too!

How could I repay them for providing me with this temporary refuge? I felt like I owed them the same thing I owed Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood, the Waystation and the Cistern, Piper and Frank and Hazel and Leo and, yes, especially Jason Grace. I owed them everything.

How could I not? (TON 41)

Sally Jackson crossed her arms. In spite of the grim matters we were discussing, she smiled. “You’ve grown up.”

I assumed she was talking about Meg. Over the last few months, my young friend had indeed gotten taller and- Wait. Was Sally referring to me?

My first thought: Preposterous! I was four thousand years old. I didn’t grow up.

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “The last time you were here, you were so lost. So... well, if you don’t mind me saying-”

“Pathetic,” I blurted out. “Whiny, entitled, selfish. I felt terribly sorry for myself.”

Meg nodded along with my words as if listening to her favorite song. “You still feel sorry for yourself.”

“But now,” Sally said, sitting back again, “you’re more... human, I suppose.”

There was that word again: human, which not long ago I would’ve considered a terrible insult. Now, every time I heard it, I thought of Jason Grace’s admonition: Remember what it’s like to be human.

He hadn’t meant all the terrible things about being human, of which there were plenty. He meant the best things: standing up for a just cause, putting others first, having stubborn faith that you could make a difference, even if it meant you had to die to protect your friends and what you believed it. These were not the kinds of feelings gods had... well, ever.

Sally Jackson meant the term in the same way Jason had - as something worth aspiring to. (TON 45-46)

And are you any better? taunted a small voice in my brain. How many times have you stood up to Zeus?

Okay, small voice. Fair point. Tyrants are not easy to oppose or walk away from, especially when you depend on them for everything. (TON 57)

I already felt disconnected from reality. I couldn’t concentrate. I didn’t know who I was, who I was supposed to be, or even who I wanted to be. I was getting emotional whiplash from my exhilarating surges of godlike power, my depressing crashes back into mortal frailty, and my adrenaline-charged bouts of terror. In such a condition, approaching Dionysus was asking for trouble. Just being near him could widen the cracks in anyone’s psyche. (TON 76-77)

Dionysus eyed me with a mixture of shock and horror, much the same way I looked at myself in the mirror these days. (TON 77)

In retaliation, Dionysus decided to look and act as ungodly as possible. He was like a child refusing to tuck in his shirt, comb his hair, or brush his teeth, just to show his parents how little he cared. (TON 78)

“Dad!” Will shot to his feet. He ran down the steps and tackled me in a hug.

That’s when I lost it. I wept openly.

My beautiful son, with his kind eyes, his healer’s hands, his sun-warm demeanour. Somehow, he had inherited all my best qualities and none of the worst. (TON 80)

“I figured you’d come back to camp eventually,” he said. “I hoped you would, anyway. I wanted you to feel at home.”

It was enough to start me crying again. Gods, I was an emotional wreck. Will hadn’t inherited his thoughtfulness from me. That was all his mother, Naomi, bless her kind heart. (TON 87-88)

“You’ve grown up!” Kayla gripped my shoulders with her archery-strong hands. The June sunlight made her freckles more pronounced. The green tinted tips of her orange hair made me think of Halloween-pumpkin candy. “You’re two inches taller at least! Isn’t he, Austin?” (TON 88)

I wanted to tell them that they were all so young. Their lifespans were a blink of an eye compared to my four millennia. I should be wrapping them all in warm blankets and giving them cookies rather than expecting them to be heroes, slay monsters, and buy me clothes. (TON 90)

“Nico has been having... I guess you’d call it post-traumatic stress disorder. He gets flashbacks. He has waking dreams. Dionysus has been trying to help him make sense of it all. The worst part is the voices.” (TON 93)

I frowned at Dionysus. “You could always, oh, I don’t know, decide to help.”

He scoffed. “You know as well as I do, Apollo, that quests like this are demigod business. As for advising, guiding, helping... that’s really more Chiron’s job.” (TON 99)

I wondered, bitterly, if there was anyone I hadn’t neglected, hurt, or overlooked during my time as a mortal - strike that - during my four thousand years of existence, period. I could only be grateful that my shoes were not sentient. Or my underwear. Gods, I would never be able to stop apologizing. (TON 110)

“I betrayed you once,” she said. “Right here in these woods.” She didn’t sound sad or ashamed about it, the way she once might have. She spoke with a sort of dreamy disbelief, as if trying to recall the person she’d been six months ago. That was a problem I could relate to. (TON 114)

“I have to go back,” Meg insisted. “I have to see if I’m strong enough.”

Peaches cuddled up next to her as if he had no such concerns.

Meg patted his leafy wings. “Maybe I’ve gotten stronger. But when I go back to the palace, will it be enough? Can I remember to be who I am now and not... who I was then?”

I didn’t think she expected an answer. But it occurred to me that perhaps I should be asking myself that same question.

Since Jason Grace’s death, I’d spent sleepless nights wondering if I could keep my promise to him. Assuming I made it back to Mount Olympus, could I remember what it was like to be human, or would I slip back into being the self-centered god I used to be?

Change is a fragile thing. It requires time and distance. Survivors of abuse, like Meg, have to get away from their abusers. Going back to that toxic environment was the worst thing she could do. And former arrogant gods like me couldn’t hang around other arrogant gods and expect to stay unsullied.

But I supposed Meg was right. Going back was the only way to see how strong we’d gotten, even if it meant risking everything. (TON 114-115)

“So now you believe the Trogs exist?” Nico asked.

“I am learning to believe in all sorts of things that can kill me!” (TON 136)

If my trials as a mortal had done anything, they had shown me how many times I’d abandoned, forgotten, and failed my Oracle over the centuries. I could not abandon Rachel in the same way. I’d neglected the basic truth that they did not serve me; I was supposed to serve them. (TON 158)

Nico smirked. “Friends, meet my glow-in-the-dark boyfriend.”

“Could you not make a big deal about it?” Will asked. (TON 163)

“Rachel, I’m scared,” I admitted. “It was one thing thinking about putting myself in danger. But the entire camp? Everyone?”

Strangely, this comment seemed to please her.

She took my hand. “I know, Apollo. And the fact that you’re worried about other people? That’s beautiful. But you’ll have to trust me.” (TON 175)

When he’d told me to remember being human, he’d meant building on pain and tragedy, overcoming it, learning from it. That was something gods never did. We just complained.

To be human is to move forward, adapt, to believe in your ability to make things better. That is the only way to make the pain and sacrifice mean something.

I met Rachel’s gaze.”I trust you. I’ll make things right. Or I will die trying.”

The strange thing was, I meant it. A world in which the future was controlled by a giant reptile, where hope was suffocated, where heroes sacrificed their lives for nothing, and pain and hardship could not yield a better life... that seemed much worse than a world without Apollo. (TON 176-177)

Not one deserved to be snuffed out by Nero’s cruelty. The revelation stunned me. I had become a human-life hoarder! (TON 182)

“I’m so sorry”, I managed at last.

“No, no,” Jason said. “I made my choice. You’re not to blame. You don’t owe me anything except to remember what I said. Remember what’s important.”

“You’re important,” I said. “Your life!”

Jason tilted his head. “I mean... sure. But if a hero isn’t ready to lose everything for a greater cause, is that person really a hero?”

He weighted the word person subtly, as if to stress it could mean a human, a faun, a dryad, a griffin, a pandos... even a god. (TON 218-219)

As a god of healing, I knew something about psychology and mental health, though I’ll admit I did not always best practices to myself. (TON 225)

I knew my anxiety about my own weakness was getting mixed up with my anxiety about Meg. Even if I somehow made my way back to Mount Olympus, I didn’t trust myself to hold onto the important things I’d learned as a mortal. That made me doubt Meg’s ability to stay strong in her old toxic home.

The similarities between Nero’s household and my family on Mount Olympus made me increasingly uneasy. The idea that we gods were just as manipulative, just as abusive as the worst Roman emperor... Surely that couldn’t be true.

Oh, wait. Yes, it could. Ugh. I hated clarity. (TON 225-226)

I found myself back in the caverns of Delphi, volcanic gasses layering the air, the dark shape of Python moving heavily in the background.

“So, I have you again,” he gloated. “You shall perish-”

“I don’t have time for you right now.” My voice surprised me almost as mush as it did the reptile.

“What?”

“Gotta go.” I lashed the reins of my dream.

“How dare you! You cannot-”

I rocketed into reverse like I was tied to a rubber band. (TON 233)

We both knew that, under most circumstances, Meg was fully capable of rescuing herself. But with Nero... I suspected Lu, like me, wanted Meg to be strong enough to save herself. We couldn’t make the hard choices for her. Yet it was excruciating to stand by while Meg’s sense of independence was tested. (TON 244)

But now, after knowing Lu, I wondered how many of these Germani really wanted to serve Nero, and how many had been conscripted into his service with no choice. Enough people had died. My grudge was with only one person, Nero, and one reptile, Python. (TON 250)

“Well, no, not Mr. D,” Nico said. “You know how it is. Gods don’t fight demigod battles. Present company excepted.” (TON 263)

Austin and I had gotten to know each other - not just as god and mortal, or father and son, but as two people working side by side, helping each other get through our often messed-up lives. (TON 273)

My heart broke. Meg looked elegant, older, and quite beautiful. She also looked utterly, completely no longer herself. Nero had tried to strip way everything she had been, every choice she’d made, and replace her with someone else - a proper young lady of the Imperial Household. (TON 285-286)

I tried to contain my horror. “Meg,” I said. “There’s only one person you need to listen to here: yourself. Trust yourself.”

I meant it, despite all my doubts and fears, despite all my complaints over the months about Meg being my master. She had chosen me, but I had also chosen her. I did trust her - not in spite of her past with Nero, but because of it. I had seen her struggle. I’d admired her hard-won progress. I had to believe in her for my own sake. She was - gods help me - my role model. (TON 293)

“I didn’t kill my father,” she said, her voice small and hard. “I didn’t cut off Lu’s hands or enslave those dryads or twist us all up inside.” She swept a hand towards the other demigods of the household. “You did that, Nero. I hate you.” (TON 295)

“Lu has immortality,” I said, “because you’re immortal. The two of you have been connected for centuries.”

Nero’s eye twitched. “But that’s my eternal life! You can’t trade my life for my life!” (TON 309)

Python had always been the real power behind the throne - a bigger puppet master than Nero’s mother ever had been. Like most bullies, Nero had been shaped and manipulated by an even stronger abuser. (TON 310)

Nero hissed. “Ungrateful child. The Beast-”

“The Beast is dead.” Meg tapped the side of her head. “I killed it.” (TON 311)

Rachel pulled out a blue plastic hairbrush and threw it at the nearest barbarian, beaning him in the eye and making him howl.

Sorry I underestimated you, Rachel, I thought distantly. You’re actually kind of a hairbrush ninja. (TON 313)

"You - cannot - take - it - Lester!” Nero said through clenched teeth, pulling with all his might.

“I am Apollo,” I said, tugging the opposite direction. “And I - revoke - your - divinity!” (TON 317)

“Hasn’t he proved himself already?” Artemis demanded. My heart ached, seeing my sister again. “He’s suffered more in these last few months than even you could have expected! Whatever lesson you were trying to teach him, dear Father, he’s learned it!” (TON 319)

“This has gone on long enough. Too much loss. Too much pain. But if my husband insists on seeing it through, the least you all can do is not talk about Apollo as if he’s already dead!” (TON 320)

Then I was back in my mortal form, looking up not at the Olympians, but at the faces of my friends (TON 320)

I alternated drinking my nectar and Mountain Dew, which was sort of like alternating between premium gasoline and regular gasoline. (TON 323)

Meg had thrown away her sandals, braving bare feet despite the arrows, rubble, bones, and discarded blades that littered the floor. Someone had given her an orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, which she’d put on over her dress, making her allegiance clear. She still looked older and more sophisticated, but she also looked like my Meg. (TON 323)

I considered that perhaps courage was a self-perpetuating cycle, like abuse. Nero had hoped to create miniature, tortured versions of himself because that made him feel stronger. Meg had found the strength to oppose him because she saw how much her foster siblings needed her to succeed, to show them another way.

There were no guarantees. The imperial demigods had dealt with so much for so long, some of them might never be able to come back from the darkness. Then again, there had been no guarantees for Meg, either. There were still no guarantees that I would come back from the caverns of Delphi. All any of us could do was try, and hope that in the end, the virtuous cycle would break the vicious one. (TON 324)

Even if I survived, I would not be the same. The best I could hope for was to emerge from Delphi with my godhood restored, which was what I had wanted and dreamed about for the past half a year. So why did I feel so reluctant about leaving behind the broken, battered form of Lester Papadopolous?

“Just come back to me dummy, that’s an order.” Meg gave me a gentle hug, conscious of my injuries. Then she got to her feet and ran off to check on the imperial demigods - her former family, and possibly her family yet to be. (TON 327)

“We all have a duty to rescue each other, wouldn’t you say?”

I nodded, wondering how the centaur had become so wise over the centuries, and why that same wisdom had escaped me until I had been Lesterized. (TON 328)

I felt a tingly sensation of power building just under my skin - perhaps my divine self, trying to reassert itself in the proximity of my old arch-enemy. I hoped it was that and not just my mortal body combusting (TON 332)

Deep breath. This was for Meg. This was for Jason. This was for everyone who had fought and sacrificed to drag my sorry mortal butt from quest to quest for the last six months, just to get me this chance at redemption (TON 333)

And yet, along with humility, I’d learned something else: getting humiliated is the beginning, not the end. Sometimes you need a second shot, and a third, and a fourth. (TON 335)

“YOU CAN’T HIDE!” Python bellowed. “YOU ARE NO GOD!”

This pronouncement hit me like a bucket of ice water. It didn’t carry the weight of prophecy, but it was true nonetheless. At the moment, I wasn’t sure what I was. I certainly wasn’t my old godly self. I wasn’t exactly Lester Papadopolous either. My flesh steamed. Pulses of light flickered under my skin, like the sun trying to break through storm clouds. When had that started?

I was between states, morphing as rapidly as Python himself. I was no god. I would never be the same old Apollo again. But in this moment, I had the chance to decide what I would become, even if that new existence only lasted a few seconds.

The realization burned away my delirium.

“I won’t hide,” I muttered. “I won’t cower. That’s not who I will be.” (TON 339-340)

I had done my best. Surely, Zeus would see that and be proud. Maybe he would send down a lightning bolt, blast Python into tiny pieces, and save me!

As soon as I thought this, I realized how foolish it was. Zeus didn’t work that way. He would not save me anymore than Nero had saved Meg. I had to let go of that fantasy. I had to save myself. (TON 341)

The prophecy came true. Apollo fell, and Python fell with me. (TON 346)

The river sapped my memories, my emotions, my will. It pried open the burning cracks in my Lester Papadopoulos shell, making me feel raw and unmade like a molting dragonfly. (TON 348)

I held onto my purpose. I remembered Meg McCaffrey’s last order: Come back to me, my dummy. Her face remained clear in my mind. She had been abandoned so many times, used so cruelly. I would not be another cause of grief for her. I knew who I was. I was her dummy. (TON 348)

Wow, Apollo, you marvel. How did you survive?

I didn’t.

But at that point I was no longer Lester Papadopoulos. I was not Apollo. I was not sure who or what I was (TON 349)

“Have you learned?” she asked.

If I hadn’t felt so weak, I might have laughed. I had learned, all right. I was still learning.

At that moment, I realized I’d been thinking of the Styx the wrong way all these months. She hadn’t put destruction in my path. I’d caused it myself. She hadn’t gotten me into trouble. I was the trouble. She had merely called out my recklessness. (TON 353)

Why couldn’t I let go, then? I kept clinging to the edge with stubborn determination. My wayward pinky found its grip again. I had promised Meg I would return to her. I hadn’t sworn it as an oath, but that didn’t matter. If I said I would do it, I had to follow through.

Perhaps that was what Styx had been trying to teach me: it wasn’t about how loudly you swore your oath, or what sacred words you used. It was about whether or not you meant it. And whether your promise was worth making.

Hold on, I told myself, to both the rock and the lesson.

My arms seemed to become more substantial. My body felt more real. The lines of light wove together until my form was a mesh of solid gold.

Was it just a last hopeful hallucination, or did I just pull myself up? (TON 354)

I rose with a sob and hugged her tight. All my pain was gone. I felt perfect. I felt... I almost thought, like myself again, but I wasn’t even sure what that meant anymore.

I was a god again. For so long, my deepest desire was to be restored. But instead of feeling elated, I wept on my sister’s shoulder. I felt like if I let go of Artemis, I would fall back into Chaos. Huge parts of my identity would shake loose, and I would never be able to find all the puzzle pieces. (TON 355)

My chest was bronze and perfectly sculpted. My muscular arms bore no scars or fiery lines glowing beneath the surface. I was gorgeous, which made me feel melancholy. I had worked hard for those scars and bruises. All the suffering my friends and I had been through... (TON 355)

I felt awkward and uncomfortable in this form, as if I’d been given a Rolls-Royce to drive but no car insurance to go with it. I’d felt so much more comfortable in my economy-compact Lester. (TON 357)

I remembered my dream of the throne room - the other Olympians gambling on my success or failure. I wondered how much money they’d lost.

What could I possibly say to them? I no longer felt like one of them. I wasn’t one of them. (TON 358)

My poor Hyacinthus. Had I really created these flowers to commemorate him, or to wallow in my own grief and guilt? I found myself questioning many things I had done over the centuries. Strangely enough, this uneasiness felt somewhat reassuring.

I studied my smooth tan arms, wishing again that I had retained a few scars. Lester Papadopoulos had earned his cuts, bruises, broken ribs, blistered feet, acne... Well perhaps not the acne. No one deserves that. But the rest had felt more like symbols of victory than laurels, And better commemorations of loss than hyacinths. (TON 358-359)

I turned and strode out of my room, trying to recall how the god Apollo walked (TON 359)

As much as we pretended to be a council of twelve, in truth we were a tyranny. Zeus was less a benevolent father and more an iron-fisted leader with the biggest weapons and the ability to strip us of our immortality if we offended him. (TON 366)

My father coughed into his fist. “ I know you think your punishment was harsh, Apollo.”

I did not answer. I tried my best to keep my expression polite and neutral.

“But you must understand,” Zeus continued, “only you could have overthrown Python. Only you could have freed the Oracles. And you did it, as I expected. The suffering, the pain along the way... regrettable, but necessary. You have done me proud.”

Interesting how he put that: I had done him proud. I had been useful in making him look good. My heart did not melt. I did not feel that this was a warm-and-fuzzy reconciliation with my father. Let’s be honest: some fathers don’t deserve that. Some fathers aren’t capable of it.

I suppose I could have raged at him and called him bad names. We were alone. He probably expected it. Given his awkward self-consciousness at the moment, he might even have let me get away with it unpunished.

But it would not have changed him. It would not have made anything different between us.

You cannot change a tyrant by trying to out-ugly him. Meg could never have changed Nero, any more than I could change Zeus. I could only try to be different than him. Better. More... human. And to limit the time I spent around him to as little as possible. (TON 367-368)

I still didn’t feel like my old self. I didn’t want to feel like my old self. (TON 371)

When I’d first met Meg, she’d assured me that Lester’s appearance was perfectly normal. At the time, the notion had horrified me. Now I found it reassuring. (TON 371)

Ugly weeping would not have been appropriate for a major Olympian god, so that’s exactly what I did. (TON 372)

To be honest, though, I could no longer consider my time on Earth a punishment. Terrible, tragic, nearly impossible... yes. But calling it a punishment gave Zeus too much credit. It had been a journey - an important one I made for myself, with the help of my friends. I hoped... I believed that the grief and pain had shaped me into a better person. I had forged a more perfect Lester from the dregs of Apollo. I would not trade those experiences for anything. And if I had been told I had to be Lester for another hundred years... Well, I could think of worse things. At least I wouldn’t be expected to show up at the Olympian solstice meetings. (TON 373)

She laid her hand on my arm. “You haven’t forgotten. I can tell.”

She meant about being human, about honoring the sacrifices that had been made.

“No,” I said. “I won’t forget. The memory is part of me now.” (TON 390)

It would have been inconceivable to the old Apollo, but the idea of aging in this lovely desert tree house, watching Meg grow into a strong and powerful woman... that didn’t sound bad at all. (TON 394)

Call on me. I will be there for you. (TON 396)

#trials of apollo #ton spoilers #tower of nero #the tower of nero #tower of nero spoilers #the trials of apollo

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green-eyed-whumpster · 3 years

Text

My OC Universe: Rowan 130

Chapter 130 Summary: Marie comes for William. And surprises Rowan, seeing her after so long. (Tags: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @much-ado-about-whumping, @abitefullofeverything, @whump-me-all-night-long, @sky-or-something-idfk and @tears-and-lilies)

Trigger Warnings: PTSD whumpee, reference to previous abuse, reference to character death, threat, man-handling, verbal abuse

Peter and Rowan managed to figure out a way for Rowan to completely avoid William’s company. Peter leashed him outside for a few hours so Rowan could wash in peace, Rowan would grasp brief walks outside to stay active and get some fresh air. He always felt awful for Peter, though, who insisted on sleeping in full view of their prisoner. Rowan gave him pillows and blankets from his bed which he refused, in case the comfort allowed him to sleep too deeply or for too long. William realised soon that his manipulation wouldn’t work on Peter, and Rowan was nowhere to be seen, so he spent the days in almost complete silence, waiting in agony for Marie to arrive and drag him kicking and screaming back to his prison.

One morning Peter was preparing a cup of tea when he heard sounds outside. Multiple sets of hooves churning up the melting snow as they drew closer to the house. His eyes lit up and he abandoned his tea to turn to William, who had also heard the sounds and was waiting for the inevitable, his pale grey eyes dull and filled with dread.

“I have a feeling you’re finally going to be out of Rowan’s life forever.” Peter grinned. “But I promise, if you escape and come back here, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” William nodded weakly and turned his head away.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. I’m sure Marie will have me kneecapped to prevent it happening again.” He paused uncomfortably and looked up, flinching as Peter narrowed his eyes.

“If Rowan is going to stay here for the rest of his life,” He hesitated before continuing and shrugged. “Keep him happy –“ He jerked as Peter dragged him to his feet to glare at him easier. “I’m sure you will, but…he was a good creature, I am going to miss him.” He flinched as Peter struck him hard and attempted to blink through the pain.

“You’re so sick and twisted that you can’t even feel real emotions.” Peter hissed. “You never cared for him.”

“I may be cruel, but I still felt things.” William replied, grunting as he was shoved unceremoniously towards the door. “Most frequently pride. I never wanted to admit my fondness for him, and used his that remained to try and save myself. But still, his company was worth more than I told him. And I admit I took it for granted. You don’t have to tell him this if you don’t want to,”

“I won’t.” Peter snapped. “You’ve played with his head enough.”

The air was cold as he came outside, the horses bore the royal crest and the men dismounting them wore the formal royal armour, so Peter pulled William out as well. It was liberating to be able to drag William into the wet ground and push him forward, finally this creature would leave his property and his life.

A particularly impressive horse drew closer and as Peter looked it over he realised the creature mounted on it was a woman, and her dress was a thick crushed velvet embroidered with golden thread. He fell to his knees as he recognised the Queen’s face and lowered his head respectfully as she drew up to him.

“Are you the one who owns this land?” He had never heard the Queen’s voice before, and it was such a foreign concept that he struggled to process her words.

“Yes, your majesty,” His head jerked up as he heard the crunch of another approaching horse and immediately lowered it again as the Prince came beside his mother.

“Confiscate my husband.” She ordered and two of the soldiers moved to take William’s arms and drag him over to their company.

“Lovely to see you again, as well, my love,” He said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“And speaking of your love, did he receive you as you predicted?” She taunted in reply and he flushed, with rage or shame it wasn’t clear. “Speaking of, where is the boy?” She wondered.

“He…he’s inside,” Peter said softly, reluctant to reveal Rowan’s hiding place.

“Fetch him.” He looked up as the soldiers nodded and threw himself to his feet.

“I –“ He hesitated nervously and swallowed the lump in his throat. “If you would permit me to go and get him?” He asked. “I’m afraid he may be hiding from your majesty,”

“Why would he be hiding?” Marie scoffed.

“Your majesty apparently made a promise to kill him if you ever saw him again.” Peter said cautiously.

“You did.” Alexander added and Marie let out a sigh.

“Fine,” She said flippantly. “Whatever will save the most time, I’ve already spent three days on horseback.” Peter nodded and took a step back.

“Thank you, your majesty,” He said. “I won’t be a moment.” He raced into the house and opened the door to his room. He could hear the soft squeak of fear and felt his chest tighten sadly.

“Hey, Rowan?” He checked the rest of the space before crouching down to look beneath the beds. “The Queen wants to speak to you,” Rowan’s eyes shone black with the little light available beneath the beds.

“Please, Peter!” He squeaked. “She’ll kill me!”

“I don’t care what it means, but she has assured me that it means I won’t need to think about him ever again.”

“No, no Rowan,�� Peter soothed. “I won’t let her. I’ll be there the whole time,” He extended a hand beneath the bed and watched as Rowan considered the idea.

“All right,” He murmured, shimmying out from his cave and taking Peter’s hand.

“Good, I promise you’ll be safe,” Peter smiled.

“If I don’t she’ll just send in guards to drag me out,” Rowan reasoned and Peter sighed softly.

“Just take a deep breath, it’s almost over.” He said as he wrapped a blanket around Rowan’s slim shoulders.

As he left the house again he felt Rowan’s hand tightening in his. Marie was waiting impatiently, looking around the sparse clearing and glancing over to her enslaved husband who was antagonising her son. She looked up when Peter reappeared and he saw her piercing blue eyes searching past him for the one she was after. He knelt once again in front of her but Rowan stood stoically beside him.

“Your majesty.” The cold air swallowed up his soft and stern voice.

“Rowan,” Marie said in mild surprise. “You look much healthier, this man treats you well?” Rowan appeared to be startled by her question and hesitated.

“He-he does, thank you, your majesty.” He muttered. He was confused by her interest.

“Good, you look to be in good health.”

“And you, your majesty, considering,” The last word was barely a whisper, but both the royals heard it.

“The impertinence,” Alexander hissed, but Marie held a hand out to him.

“He was only enquiring.” She answered calmly. “Considering the damages that William’s presence certainly inspired, he is entitled to a level of respect not many others deserve.” Her voice was calm but firm, she wouldn’t punish him for mentioning such things, but she won’t allow her own power to be threatened.

“Thank you, your majesty,” Rowan whispered. “Your majesty always was far too kind to me,” She smiled slightly as his courage waned and he reverted to his more comfortable state.

The party all turned as another horse burst from the trees, the soldiers raising their spears in preparation to protect the Queen and guard against William’s release. Rowan and Peter were completely at a loss as to who the newcomer would be but as they pulled up their steed and leapt off they recognised her as Cordelia, and relief flooded in Rowan’s chest. She swept unflinchingly past the soldiers and the nobles to place a hand on Rowan’s cheek and the other press on Peter’s shoulder.

“You’re all right?” She asked breathlessly and he nodded gently. “Get up, you fool,” She directed to Peter, and he sheepishly rose to his feet, keeping his head bowed.

“Forgive my interruption, my lady,” She said, directing her attention to the Queen. “But I was held up in the city.” Marie only nodded in understanding and shrugged softly.

“Of course,” She said. “Who wouldn’t want to witness William’s recapture?”

“Look how powerful you are surrounded by armed guards,” The prisoner spat and grunted as a soldier struck the back of his head.

“You know, maybe this time I really will have your tongue ripped out.” She hissed to him. “Let’s go. I don’t want him to be in the open for any longer. Make sure he’s gagged.” Rowan fought to avoid staring as William’s mouth was wrapped tightly with cloth and he was thrown over the pommel of a saddle, much like how he had been transported when he was imprisoned.

“Here,” She said, tossing a heavy purse to the ground before them. “For your loyalty to the crown.” Rowan’s eyes turned to it and only dragged away from the reward when he felt her moving.

“Wait! Your majesty?”

She hesitated for a moment and allowed her horse to settle before indicating for him to continue.

“Would I be allowed to ask you something?”

She paused for a moment to consider the request as Alexander raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“If you want more money then you won’t get it.” He said firmly and Rowan turned his head down shamefully.

“Oh, hush, Alex,” Marie sighed, climbing from the saddle to stand before them. It was far more intimidating having her stand at their level. “What is it?” She asked and stepped towards them.

“I-I…”

Rowan swallowed heavily and fell instinctively to his knees, followed by Peter, despite Cordelia’s previous demand. Now that she was close enough that he could smell her perfume he was swept up with the dreadful memories that came with her refined scent.

“I heard an order that William was dead,” He finally choked out. “I thought you were killing him along with…” He hesitated but they both knew what he was referring to. “Wh-why didn’t you kill him?” His voice trembled weakly as he finally spat out his question and he heard Marie’s gentle sigh.

“We intended to punish him,” She admitted. “We wanted to keep him alive until we broke him. But his arrogance is so strong that not even torture managed to blunt his tongue.” She shook her head gently and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Alexander and I’s own arrogance wouldn’t allow him to win by killing him while he still retained some of his dignity. He feigned an injury and while a guard was moving him to another cell he escaped. It is our own fault and I’m sincerely sorry that he managed to find his way back to you.”

Rowan’s breath caught as his head whipped up to look at her, the notion of the Queen apologising to him was so ridiculous that he couldn’t hide his surprise.

“No-no, your majesty, really there isn’t anything for you to apologise for!” He squeaked and watched in bemusement as Marie chuckled softly.

“I hope you are trying to teach him to stop apologising so much,” She said to Peter as she stepped forward and cupped Rowan’s cheek gently, her soft leather glove sliding across his skin.

“I-I’m trying, your majesty,” He replied, flushing at her direct acknowledgement.

“I must admit, when we first came to the castle I was quite cruel to you, I hope you can forgive me, I didn’t understand the part you were playing was for your own survival.” Rowan couldn’t breathe as he felt the Queen’s touch on his skin. “Any creature who could pretend to be so devoted to a monster like William deserves respect.” Part of him craved the superior affection that he hadn’t felt since being released, but still his stomach pooled with dread at the dominating touch.

“Thank you, your majesty,” He breathed nervously and she gently took her hand away.

“I promise on my crown that William will never disturb you again. Alexander and I owe much to your loyalty.” Rowan was still unperturbed by this level of kindness Marie was offering him and barely knew how to answer through grunting softly in reply.

“My lady, would I be permitted to remain here for a few days to ensure Rowan’s peace of mind?” Cordelia asked and Marie nodded.

“Of course. I don’t need your reports until the end of next week, take your time.” She said and turned, climbing gracefully back onto her horse. “I am glad you’ve found a safe place, Rowan. Please let Cordelia know if you need anything in the future and I will make sure it is provided.”

“Oh…that-that’s too kind, your majesty,” Rowan gasped and she shook her head.

“As someone most impacted by William’s cruelty it is justified.” She said and glanced down as Alexander helped steady her horse. “Oh, also,” Rowan looked up timidly as her voice paused and watched her study his face. “Cordelia told me you were close to your bodyguard. I am sorry he didn’t survive.” Rowan looked down sadly and managed to bob his head in agreement.

“Thank you, your majesty, your condolences mean a lot,” He muttered.

“I hope you understand that there was never anything personal Alexander and I held against you, you were purely collateral damage.”

Rowan didn’t have the strength to lift his head as he heard the party turn to go, he didn’t want to risk catching William’s eye as he finally disappeared.

Hopefully this time for good.

#whump #medieval whump #my writing #oc #Rowan #Peter #William #Marie #Cordelia #PTSD whumpee #manhandling #verbal abuse #reference to previous abuse #reference to death

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lamiasluck · 4 years

Text

Cheers to the Future

(Working for with this new version of Host I created. What if he didn’t mind Author and actually respected him? Much to think about.)

Author wrote his future self a letter to reflect on things. Host always cherishes the the gesture. It’s not everyday he can see relics of his past life.

@emptynarration @alvie-ashgrove @shy-marker-pliers @juju-on-that-yeet @m4delin @verse2wo @ferociousfangirlofmanyfandoms @lildevyl

Warnings: swearing, minor violence

Dear my future self,

I’m writing this stupid thing because I need something to calm me down. Another damn character ran away, again. A surprisingly fast guy, considering he’s some brain dead office monkey. I don’t remember his name, but my bat had his goddamn name written all over it! People just don’t get it. Their safety doesn’t matter in this; I want to have fun. But whatever, maybe you’ll have better luck getting that through people’s heads. And it better work! I can’t imagine myself doing anything else. I’d rather die than become boring like that.

I want a library full of books in the future. And I better have written every single word in them. It’ll be a whole collection of characters that get it. That they don’t matter, only the story does. You better understand that, too. I’m tired of thinking of the morality of it all, everyone keeps telling me I’m wrong and horrible. I know that! Dear god, I don’t need to hear it all the time. The same dialogue over and over drives me insane. I can only imagine how exhausted you are of that by now. Though, maybe you have a better way to make them understand what we mean. If only I could hear it�� Nothing pisses me off more than an entitled character too stupid to consider the bigger picture. Now I’m repeating myself. I’m the asshole here. Well, I’m going to commit to it now.

I want things from you, even if you are me. You should have more power. I want you to be stronger than me, which is impossible already, but the only one able to do that is me. I want you to be a fucking god. It’s what we deserve.

Guess this wasn’t as stupid as I thought… I feel better after writing this. I’ll go out and get another character. Start things over. I’ll even keep this piece of scrap somewhere safe, in case you do read this in the future. If you’re alive. You better be. I hope life’s more of a joyride to you. That’s my dream, stick with it.

- Author

The Host fondly brushes his thumb over the worn paper. It’s long since weakened with age, feeling flimsy in his hands and crumpled. The messy handwriting is charming to see with his narrations, but at least they’re full paragraphs. He can never find himself jotting down more than a few notes for his radio broadcasts. His infliction makes him unmotivated to put in the effort. Not like anyone else sees them besides him, anyway.

Author had such a way with words. Like how he kept swearing constantly even when writing a letter. A charming touch, added more personality. The Host doesn’t curse nearly as much. As it turns out, swearing aggressively puts many characters at unease right off the bat. He learned that soon after Author died.

This isn’t the first time he’s read this, nor will it be the last. Hell, he practiced his narrations reading it when he got reborn. It’s nice to reflect on who he once was. Author was always an interesting man, but far too narrow minded to improve for his own benefit. The Host wouldn’t be here if Author wasn’t so rash, though. He’s grateful for such a unique creation. No human is born like this. That always brings a smile to his face. Perhaps, he did turn into the god Author had wanted. He certainly feels like one with his power.

The letter is carefully folded up and put into a safe drawer. It’s been taken care of expertly all these years, with only a small tear to prove otherwise. The Host wonders what Author would think of him some days. He lives in the same body as the writer, but it feels odd to call himself “The Author.” Perhaps, The Host is something Author expected. To be killed and reborn anew, into something greater than man. Maybe that’s why he stupidly faced every danger head on, tempting fate to turn him into a god, to complete his origin story. Or maybe, Author would be absolutely disgusted by The Host, scared even.

“No, I don’t want to die! I want this power. I don’t want you having it!”

With golden eyes widened in horror, while his shaky hands grips his bat like it’ll protect him. Expression morphed into a harsh, but confused glare, as he stared at his future. Why, The Host can practically hear him screaming curses at him. It’s always amusing to think about, but they’re only predictions of the impossible. All he can do is honour Author’s name. While he may not be a writer, he’s quite the storyteller. And, he’s gotten better at controlling those pesky characters’ minds. Though-

“Let me out!” a panicked man’s voice screeches from the other room. There’s sounds of a struggle, before The Host hears a loud thump, followed by a pained groan. Poor soul must’ve tipped over his chair. “You can’t keep me in here!” Still as determined as ever, though.

- Sometimes he has the same problems Author did. While he may have improved how he plays mind games, something Author never had the patience to do, there are always times a character’s too vain to understand the message. Some things never change. It never bothers The Host too much though, at least not enough to make him as angry as Author would’ve been. He alway finds ways to have fun with it. Again, another thing Author could never do; go with the flow and make every situation his. As they deserve.

With age comes maturity, The Host supposes. As if he’s the shining beacon of maturity.

With a grin on his face, he grabs his trusty, metal bat and stands from his desk. Well, Author’s bat, but he still cares for the weapon. “Another damn character ran away,” he repeats Author’s words with a giggle. “Or, almost ran away. The Host tries to be smart enough to catch them afterwards.”

He walks over to the room he keeps his uncooperative characters in. This guy did end up tipping his chair over, now flopping around like a suffocating fish. The sight makes The Host laugh through his narrations. He walks up to the character, dragging his bat against the floor to make a dull, scraping sound. The way the character yells and begs makes his grin grow wider.

“Now, now, friend,” he crouches down next to the character’s head, “with all that screaming, he may tear out his vocal cords.” He presses the end of his bat against the poor man’s throat, effectively quieting the screaming into a pitiful whimper. “None of that now, The Host wants to show his friend why he should’ve behaved.” He stands up then, spinning his bat in his hand.

“No, please-”

“It may be a long and hard lesson to take in.” He raises his bat over his head, “If it makes him feel better, The Host found it hard to learn himself.”

“God, please, no!”

“God only wants to make a good story. Let fate take its course.” He swings the bat down hard into the character’s ribs, laughing maniacally once he hears a sickening crack. The man shrieks in pain, but no one will hear him within the vast and empty forest. No one besides The Host. “Don’t worry, it’s for the greater good!”

Time to make Author proud.

#The Host #The Author #fanfic #markiplier egos #markiplier

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auroras-blend · 3 years

Text

Playdate Bonus Chapter

*Small excerpt of Leo's POV from the Playdate chapter. All of Mazzeo's dialogue is spoken in Italian but given the amount and length (cause he talks a lot), I translated it into English.

Leonardo was a picture-perfect host with a genuine-looking smile on his face. Anyone who saw him would immediately feel welcomed with open arms into his home, ready and delighted to receive his hospitality. If only he felt as generous on the inside. Vittoria was bouncing beside him, a true happy grin brightening her face. It was the happiest he had ever seen her. Unfortunately for him, it came at his expense.

He had put off arranging a playdate with Signore Mazzeo’s granddaughter for as long as he could, but eventually, he had to give in and concede to a date and time. That morning, he had just stared at the top of the fridge at the little note that said: “Playdate with the Mazzeo's” that taunted him with the knowledge that while his daughter got to entertain herself with her new friend, whom he still had reservations about, he had to endure Franco’s long-winded conversations. "Conversation" was a polite word given that Franco did all of the talking, never taking a moment to breathe. Currently, he was giving his unsolicited parenting advice as if he were the finest father in the entire world. One of the things he hated about parenthood was the unsolicited advice people felt entitled to give to him.

“Of course, my parenting experience began before I was ever even a father. I always knew what type of father I wanted to be. Perfect in every sense of the word. There for my kids, never letting our work distract me. My own father…”

Was absent...unaffectionate...yes, yes. You’ve told me already. Leonardo subtly looked over at the grandfather clock, watching the minute hand move so slowly that he could swear it was doing it on purpose. Forty-five more minutes until I have three hours left…

“Then I became a father. Giulia, my firstborn, was an absolute angel. I didn’t want to mess her up so I made time for her, more than I could afford in our line of work. The baby years were such a wonderful time. A true shame you missed out on them, but that’s life. Anyways, I wanted to be a perfect father but that idea faded away. Everything you’ll think you’ll be as a parent fades away when you face the reality and I’ve learned that that’s okay. For instance…”

All I asked was “Would you like something to drink?”...that’s it. What have I done to deserve this? His eyes averted for a moment to see Vittoria and Nicolletta crank the music box again...Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name...He was incredibly resentful that Signora Bianchi bought his daughter that godforsaken music box. She played it nonstop and all he wanted to do was throw it away, but of course, Vittoria always put it back where it was supposed to go. The first and only time she put her toys away, it had to be that damn music box.

“Then Sofia was born and regretfully I wasn’t home as much. I wonder now if I had been home more if they would have turned out differently. Sofia was always the wild one. It’s a night and day difference between her sister and daughter. Giulia was always so even-tempered and Nicolletta causes no trouble. Anyways, I think Sofia was resentful. So I indulged her and that was my big mistake. Indulging your child is one of the worst things you can do. I warn you now…”

Do I indulge Vittoria too much? He knew the answer was yes, but she was always grateful. Vittoria understood and respected the word no, so he figured if he said no then she’d listen. Overall, his daughter was a good girl with a kind demeanor. I can hardly believe that bitch raised her.

“Giulia was the biggest disappointment. I haven’t heard from her in twelve years, not since she left Emilio with me. That blasted girl had the nerve to get herself knocked up with a Mick and then leave him with me. I don’t know if she’s dead or not, but I consider her so. I have to move on for the sake of my grandson…”

Leonardo had known Giulia and from day one knew she was nothing more than a whore. He had seen her twice and was merciful enough to spare Franco the knowledge of what had happened to his eldest daughter. Her body was disgusting. The smell was awful and oh...I need to have the upstairs sink unclogged. I’ll have to add that to the reminders list on the fridge. His fridge had gone from spotless stainless steel to an honorary bulletin board covered with tiny handprints, a hand-drawn picture of Vittoria and him, Principessa Snowbell, several notes, and Vittoria’s school agenda. It looked so drastically different, though he supposed that was how his life had turned out recently.

A loud thud against the seat of a chair startled him out of his thoughts and back to the conversation with Sig. Mazzeo. “Of all people, a MICK! Then there was that good-for-nothing girl. Sofia, I bailed her out too much, and look what happened. She married that good-for-nothing Cardarelli scum. I should’ve had him eliminated when I had the goddamn chance,” he said quickly, his volume rising.

Don’t you need to breathe? For Christ’s sake… “Do not let Vittoria marry whoever she wants. You’re her father, you know who’s best for her…”

Leo opened his mouth but Franco cut him off before a sound could even be formed, “Arrange something. It’s what I should’ve done. Sofia that dumb girl! If her husband had stuck to our traditions, then she wouldn’t be where she is now. I wouldn’t bail her out this time. I draw the line with what she did! Vinnie has respiratory problems now from inhaling that devil’s substance,” Franco continued, taking a moment to cross himself.

Vittoria would never do such a thing. “Which brings me to my next point…”

Murder in front of the girls’ would be unadvisable but he’s making it seem like a more appealing idea. Leonardo’s eyes drifted to the clock again. It’s only been six minutes? Cazzate! The clock must be broken. “I’ve learned from my mistakes and I’m making a better effort to raise my grandchildren. The loves of my life. I miss our work but retiring is the best option. I won’t let my wife do it on her own, no sir. Four children at our age are enough. Our job, our families...it ages you,” the man laughed, “I can see now that fatherhood has graced you with a few extra pounds.”

Excuse me? Leonardo opened his mouth but before he could say anything, that damn man spoke over him, “Nothing to be ashamed of, of course. It was after Sofia when I got my belly. Sig. Donisi lost his hair…”

It was only a couple of pounds. Leonardo had hardly seen a difference in his appearance with the exception of needing to move over a notch in his belt, but that was it! And something had to give in his routine because there were only so many hours in a day. He at least tried to exercise three times a week instead of every day like he used to.

People are over-dramatic. Inside he was seething. The meat cleaver is right next to the stove. “Which reminds me of this one time…”

Jesus Christ! The things I do for Vittoria. I can handle her crying, tantrums, the need for piggyback rides, and almost anything and everything but this? He remembered feeling semi-fortunate that her playdate with Emilio hadn’t worked out, because that meant he didn’t have to invite and entertain Sig. Mazzeo over again. Of course, she just had to make friends with Nicolletta.

“I think you are doing an exceptional job with Vittoria. That poor child, seeing the things she’s seen. You keep her sane when most would go mad,” Mazzeo said, his eyes softening sympathetically.

Before Leonardo could even say thank you, the man continued. He’d do anything to protect Vittoria from madness and madhouses. And anyone who thinks she should be there. Alessia wore scarves quite frequently for the past few weeks as her bruises around her neck faded from blue to yellow. It was her own fault. Suggesting I place Vittoria in a madhouse. Technically she suggested Vittoria see a psychiatrist but that was the same thing in his mind, knowing that they’d try and have her committed. Hell will freeze over before I let that happen. His mother had perished, he’d be damned before that happened to his daughter.

It wasn’t her, nor anyone’s place, to tell me what I should do for my daughter. I know what’s best for her. “Of course when I was a boy things were different…” Sig. Mazzeo began, his voice having a trace of nostalgia.

“Papa!” Vittoria cried, coming running in with Nicolletta hot on her heels, “Can we go outside and play jump rope now?”

Oh thank God, I can speak. Praise Jesus. “Of course, principessa,” he smiled, happy to use his voice for the first time in a while.

And for the last time in the next hour.

#once upon a dream #bonus chapter #leonardo borghese #marilyn winslow #i had an italian translation but i don't think anyone wants to go back and forth between google translate 😂

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risingsouls · 3 years

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Recruited: Chapter 11

[Another chapter in the books! This one runs parallel in time to the last (which will be pretty obvious) and has a little more action! So enjoy, have fun, etc.

And don’t forget: you can find the rest of this series and soem of my other BS for this blog here!]

Nabooru

Their trio of space pods burst through Noya's atmosphere and slammed into the surface, a triangle of craters left in their wake. Nabooru replaced her scouter on the side of her face, a press of the button causing the yellow characters to flash across the orange glass as it started back up. She opened up the door and floated out of her pod, touching down on the maroon dirt. A teal, creeping vegetation sprawled over it as far as the eye could see. In the distance, she noted the silhouette of a city or village and a range of mountains beyond it.

She stretched and glanced to her side as Nappa and Raditz joined her, both working out the kinks in their own joints from the long trip. "Awfully quiet here. Where do you think that team is? Hope they didn't kick the bucket before we got here," Nappa said, popping his knuckles. "Maybe it means we'll get a good fight out of these guys if they're calling in reinforcements."

The repetitive pings of a scan sounded from Raditz's scouter. "I wouldn't get my hopes up," the other Saiyan replied, turning around to check the other direction. "I'm not getting a single reading, save for five decent ones off in that direction."

He nodded opposite the mountain range. "Make that three."

Nabooru raised an eyebrow and began her own scan, Nappa following suit with a huff. "You're fucking with us. Why the hell would we be called here if they didn't need us?"

"No, he's right. I'm only getting those three readings, too. That must be the team we're meant to rendezvous with."

Raditz flew up several meters and gazed around. "Looks like something went down over there," he called down to them. "Might have been a settlement or something. Doesn't look like there's much left now."

"Let's go check it out. Something feels off here."

Nabooru followed Raditz and Nappa to the site of what could have potentially been a compound of sorts, a decent sized village, or something else entirely. The damage sustained in the area made it difficult to tell, the edifices reduced to little more than a half foot of wall at best. Scorch marks and craters dotted the area, and they could hardly walk a few feet without finding a corpse or the remnants of one. Each had a variant of blue skin, ranging from near white hues to navy. A few wore what she guessed were plain clothes, while most sported a sort of white armor. Soldiers. Most of the bodies were heavily mutilated, physically torn or shot with concentrated ki blasts to pieces, others sporting deep gashes as if from claws. Maroon soil was stained with emerald blood. Fresh.

"I thought I recognized that power level." Nappa squatted down next to a corpse missing every limb. The lower half of its skull had been crushed as if beneath someone's foot. "Looks like Shikoo and his team's work, don't you think, Raditz?"

"Seems that way. Doesn't seem like they need our help, though. And they never have before." His frown deepened. "Maybe it's some kind of trap."

Raditz vocalized Nabooru's growing fear as each piece of evidence seemed to confirm the theory. "Who's Shikoo?" she asked, turning her attention from the massacre and back toward the direction in which their scouters pinged the readings. Two of the power levels weren't much and would hardly be a challenge for even Raditz. But the third was more powerful, and while only around Nappa's power level, her insides squirmed. Why would they be sent here if this team had everything under control? Was there some secret of this planet they weren't privy to that presented a danger they couldn't handle?

"One of Frieza's favorites, and I'm sure you can see why. What the guy lacks in power he makes up for in brutality and dirty tricks," Nappa told her, folding his arms over his chest. "Makes us Saiyans look soft. But I'm sure you've seen the guy. He's bigger than me, looks like a cross between some kind of reptile and a dog. Red fur and scales. Loud and brags constantly."

Nabooru's brow furrowed and she clicked her tongue. "Mm, yes I've seen him around the base once in a while. Never considered him important enough to learn his name, especially after he and his idiots tried to force themselves on me back when I first started on the force." The corner of her lips quirked upward in a malicious smirk. "He didn't take being turned down very well. But I took care of him and made it clear he should leave me alone."

Raditz chuckled. "Good. The blowhard deserves all the beatings that come to him. Especially for that shit. Nappa and I may have heckled you for a romp in the sack, but he's so full of himself, of course he would try to force his ugly ass on you. I hope these guys took him down a peg or two."

"Confirms the rumors anyway," huffed Nappa. "Guy's disgusting. Pretty pathetic when you gotta resort to force to get off. Guess he ain't much of a charmer, no surprise there."

She kept her surprise about their stance on rape to herself. Considering the violent nature and disregard for life, their history of taking what they wanted by force, rape didn't seem like it would be far off the table for them. Both the Saiyans with her had taken her refusals without much hassle, so she supposed it shouldn't have with at least these two. A point of respect for them, at least, considering the rampant trouble they had with men attempting such with her people back home. As a race of all females and how their style of dress revealed far more skin than Hylian garb, men had a sense of entitlement to Gerudo women, and seemed to believe that meant they were asking for it.

"I suppose we should contact Frieza," she said at last, reaching up to her scouter and selecting the proper channel. "Let him know what we found and what we're meant to do instead."

Once the scouter connected successfully, Frieza greeted her before she could open her mouth to speak: "Ah, what good timing, Nabooru. You have landed on planet Noya and met with the other team there?"

"Yes, my lord. But we are confused. When we landed, we found the planet had already been successfully purged of its in--"

"Yes, yes, I am aware of the success in purging the planet. The instructions to rendezvous with the soldiers sent to Noya were...purposefully vague. The task for you and the Saiyans is to kill that team. Don't worry your pretty head over why, dear. It's unbecoming of a soldier. Their punishment has been a long time coming."

He broke the connection before she could confirm her understanding, but by the questioning expressions in her comrades' faces, her own revealed her opinion on the troublesome news. Surprised wasn't the right word for what she felt. Frieza was known for orders that felt out of place or cruel. Unwarranted and harsh. But piecing together their situation, Nappa's words, and the fact that they had been split from Vegeta only further impressed upon her a sinking feeling of dread. She less suspected a trap for them than viewing it all as one for Vegeta, a "favorite" of Frieza's like Shikoo. Or if it was one for them, was this a precursor to the orders Vegeta would be handed? To end his team and allies in the rebellion they plotted?

"What'd he say?" Nappa asked at last, snapping her out of a spiral of paranoia and back to the task at hand.

"He means for us to kill Shikoo and his crew."

"Really?" Raditz's brow furrowed. "What did they do?"

"He didn't say. Just that their punishment was a long time coming."

The Saiyans exchanged a look of disbelief with a hint of concern. Nabooru wondered if they considered the same possibilities as her. If they wondered if some other team or Vegeta and Frieza themselves lay in wait to off them, too. As much as she wanted to ask, she didn't know who could be listening. And they had a job to do. If anything followed this, they would have to face it once they dealt with Shikoo and his cronies. The memory of them offering to help her find her way back to the barracks and then cornering her, how they tried to touch her anywhere they could reach and tugged her hair, their taunting words from how pretty she was and how good she probably felt to insulting her lack of control of her ki yet. Maybe she didn't back then, but her strength proved enough to subdue the three of them and send them to the hospital ward. She escaped their disgusting behavior, but how many hadn't, if what Nappa said rang true?

Back then, she still tried to cling to her no killing rule for her sanity and her ignorance to the sort of backlash killing fellow soldiers would have. But now she not only had permission, she had the will to do it. If not only for her own revenge, but for the horrors they inflicted on others, too. This time, she wouldn't hold back. She didn't have to.

Three scouters beeped to signal approaching power levels, and Nabooru couldn't help but snort as the hulking beast Shikoo and his cohorts landed before them.

"Come to see how real soldiers work, apes?" Shikoo grinned at Nappa and Raditz, showing off sharp, yellowing teeth in his elongated, canine-like muzzle. A forked tongue flicked out to taste the air. "Where's your diminutive leader, huh? Someone finally give the prince with no subjects the licking he deserves?"

His cohorts snickered and Nabooru noticed Nappa's fists and jaw tighten with the flare of his temper. "You idiots won't be laughing in a minute." The Saiyan general smirked and cracked his knuckles. "I've been waiting for a chance to stomp you."

The smaller two--an orange skinned male with a too-blonde Mohawk and a weedy, birdlike soldier with beady black eyes--shifted in obvious discomfort under Nappa's threat, but Shikoo remained unperturbed. "Please. You wouldn't dare. Not with my favor with Frieza. The alliance my people have is too precious for him to allow a couple monkeys to pick a fight with me."

Nabooru snorted, but his claims had her mind shifting back to her people. The fate of the Saiyans. "That explains a lot. But too bad for you, Frieza seems to think killing you is more important than whatever deal you and your people have with the empire."

Yellow eyes snapped to her, slit pupils dilating for a moment in recognition. His hackles rose and hair surrounding a line of spikes along his back stood on end. His aggravation melted back to sick amusement and he laughed. "Well, well. I remember you. Come crawling back for that fun I promised you after all, huh?" His attention fell back to Nappa and Raditz. "Taking orders from women now? You Saiyans really are a joke. Guess it is a step up from short, angry, and overcompensating. Easier to look at, too."

"Can we get this over with? This guy's voice is making me sick," Raditz complained. "I'll take the two wimps in the back alone if I have to."

"You're still on that?! What did I tell you?!" Shikoo snarled. "Frieza will have your heads if you try anything!"

"And what did I tell you? Frieza himself sent us here to kill you." A smirk curled Nabooru's lips and she turned her attention to Nappa and Raditz. "You mind if I take him? I'm really kicking myself for not finishing him off all those years ago."

Nappa huffed and folded his arms, making a show of his indignance. "Damn, guess I can't argue with that. Much as I wanna bury this mutt myself, I think you've got a bigger stake." He nudged Raditz. "You take the orange one and I got bird brain." Without waiting for a response, the larger of the two surged forward and slammed his leg into his opponent's side, sending him sailing with a squawk. The general laughed and swept after him. "Try and make this fun for me, birdie!"

Raditz shot a series of magenta blasts toward the other minion who, more prepared for the onslaught than his companion, dodged backward nimbly and blocked what he couldn't with raised arms. "Give him a few good ones for me, won't you Nabs?" He shot her a wry grin and pursued his opponent with ruthless abandon.

“Stupid move on their part, leaving you alone with me,” Shikoo snarled, vicious grin back on his mug. “You don’t have the stomach to kill me. I saw it in your eyes then, and I’m sure you’ll falter again now. And that’s when I’ll finish what I started all those years ago. Maybe I’ll make your monkey friends watch.”

Nabooru rolled her eyes skyward. “Please. I feel so bad for you, I’ll give you a free first hit.” She beckoned him with her index finger. “Come on, big guy. Let’s see if you can do more than just flap your ugly mouth.”

As she hoped, Shikoo snarled at her taunt and lunged. Black claws extended outward and he swiped them toward her throat. Nabooru’s hand shot up and she grasped his wrist, her hand barely covering half of its circumference. He grunted and struggled against her strength. “So you’re a whore and a filthy liar…”

Her grip tightened, and bones crunched beneath her hand. “I’ve kind of proven the first one wrong by turning you down, haven’t I?” She caught his opposite fist. Her smirk widened when his eyes flashed in rage. “But I suppose you’re right about the liar thing.”

"I'll kill you, bitch!" he roared, tugging back in an attempt to free himself.

She held fast, orange energy flaring up around her. After a few more tugs, she released him, forcing him to stumble backward when he lost his balance. Nabooru shot forward and buried her fist in his scaled belly. Shikoo wheezed and doubled over. Head at her level, Nabooru wheeled back and kneed him in the face with bone-crunching force, whipping his head back and sending him wheeling backward once more. Blue blood oozed from his nose and mouth.

"This has been fun." Shikoo seethed as he raised his head again and spat blood on her boots. He shook with his rage, and Nabooru only wished Nappa and Raditz had remained with his crew to witness his embarrassment. She flexed her hand, forming a cylinder of ki in her palm. She wrapped her fingers around it like a hilt and willed it outward, curving and widening it into the shape of a blade similar to those she favored back home. "But I'm tired of playing. You're not really worth breaking a sweat over."

Using his shock at the sight of her ki blade, she shot forward again. She swept the blade downward, tip aimed at the ground between his feet. She brought it back up in a swift arc, between his legs and through his skull, splitting him vertically in half. His responding punch halted mid-swing, and his body fell apart with a stomach-churning squelch and a pair of thuds as each half fell to the ground.

"Geez, Nabs. Did you have to go crotch up? You made me cringe."

Her ki blade dissipated and she rested her hands on her hips. She turned to face Nappa as Raditz rejoined them, neither appearing to have taken too much damage. Raditz looked slightly ruffled with a bloody lip, but otherwise, both defeated Shikoo's goons without issue. "Of course. A disgusting bastard like him deserves it. If I wasn't supposed to kill him, I might have stopped at around his belly button."

Raditz wiped his mouth and grumbled. "Has anyone told you you're terrifying? You've been around Vegeta too long."

"I didn't realize you two were so squeamish," Nabooru snorted. She glanced at Shikoo's split corpse, the glee from her victory short lived as she remembered his claims. How Vegeta was within the tyrant’s clutches and, if Frieza knew what they planned, could be in danger.

"Speaking of Vegeta, what do you think Frieza has him doing?" A subtle attempt to probe their thoughts on the matter while potentially gaining some reassurance. "He's done this before right?"

“Sure. And I didn’t realize you were such a worrywart.” Nappa and Raditz exchanged knowing glances. “I thought Vegeta was just messing with us, but you two really are up to more than just training when you’re left alone with free time, huh?”

Her posture stiffened and heat rushed to her cheeks. “What is that supposed to mean?” She narrowed her eyes and marched over to them. Their grins only widened and she prodded both of them in the chest with her index fingers. “Just because the two of you can’t keep it in your battle suits doesn’t mean we’re a couple of horny teenagers who can’t handle being alone together. We actually want to get stronger unlike you slackers.”

“I have noticed he’s been in a better mood than normal once in a while,” added Raditz, ignoring her. “Sort of confirms that his smug attitude when he told us ‘maybe, maybe not’ last time we asked wasn’t just him messing with us.”

“Makes him a damn hypocrite though. He told us to quit trying. Guess he didn’t want to share.”

“We’re not sleeping together! Ever! Not even once!” Nabooru could kick that idiot for basically bragging to the other two Saiyans. She had faith neither of them would spread it around whether they believed it or not, but their insistence still pissed her off. “We train. That’s it.”

“It’s not a big deal. In fact, I approve. It’s about time the two of you got laid.” Nabooru slapped Nappa’s hand away before he could plop it on her shoulder. He winced. “Besides, it’s beneficial for us all because, like Raditz said, it puts Vegeta in a better mood for a little while. We all win.”

“Maybe he’s just in a better mood because you two aren’t bothering him as much.” She flipped around on her heel. “Can we please just get out of here? Seeing that ugly bastard again did nothing for my mood, and if you two keep this up, I’ll do the same to you as I did to him and make up the most embarrassing stories for your deaths I can think of.”

She heard the two snigger, but they joined her in flight without more of their incessant teasing. It at least distracted her from her paranoia and concern for the prince’s wellbeing outside of the usual sort of abuse or inanity he would suffer in Frieza’s company. A premature assumption, perhaps, but she decided to take at least Nappa’s lack of concern as a good sign. Or enough of one to keep her from fretting until she knew otherwise.

#fic: recruited #tw: rape mention #tw: violence #probably not my best work here #but it was fun to write #nabs beign a bad bish is always good

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myulalie · 4 years

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On modern comment culture

First off, I’d like to make the distinction between honesty, and being hurtful under the pretense of being honest.

Hate, be it anon or not, is hurting someone’s feelings on purpose.

You can receive hate and be a hater too. It might be easier, even, to go from the hate you receive on your work, and take it out onto someone else’s.

Here is how I picture a hater's mind: “easy to pour some hate into a comment section, you don't see the person and they receive nice comments. They probably won't even notice.”

Sometimes, constructive criticism, even with your best interests at heart, hurts.

We don’t expect it, it’s not what we meant to write, or we just didn’t worry about how our work could be perceived.

It might be a very European vs American perception of criticism, and I aspire to get better, so the choice I made is to receive constructive criticism (concrit for short).

I wish someone would tell me if I’m writing something that doesn’t work, and why it doesn’t. I wish someone would point it out if I misuse a word.

Positive feedback is great and encouraging, actual comments about what someone likes/dislikes and why is helpful.

Not wanting any concrit is the author’s choice and I respect it. This is the reason I only offer concrit to anyone who told me they’re interested.

I wish concrit was still a thing

Modern comment culture is protective of authors, and there is a general agreement that concrit, especially unsolicited, is unnecessary.

I fully support the fact that fanfic authors are writing for free, so they deserve basic respect for their work.

This doesn’t give them the right to be assholes.

You put your work out there, you have a responsibility to at the very least let people know you’re not interested in concrit, and to disable/moderate comments if you don’t want them.

If someone comes to bug you when you explicitly mentioned you’re not interested in concrit then yeah, by all means, tell them to fuck off.

I think it’s important to let haters know their behavior is unacceptable. As they say, the only way to deal with a bully is to punch them in the face (or make them face the consequences of their actions as a general rule).

The author’s reply to hate tells a lot about them, but their reply to concrit also does.

Being polite should be a given.

And it goes both ways!

Readers are offering concrit for free too, they take the time to do so because they genuinely want to help. They enjoy your story enough to want to interact with you.

I’ve had a lot more comments than usual with kinktober, and I’ve built up a new habit of replying the next day before or after posting my daily take on the prompts.

I am aware that the amount of comments I receive is manageable, and some people have to deal with a lot more every day (like, hundreds).

In my experience, replying to short and sweet comments can be challenging because a simple thank you message isn’t personal enough, and you as a writer don’t have much content to actually reply to either.

Longer comments often open up more possibilities to reply, even if it’s just to let the reader know how you felt when reading their comment.

I believe that no matter how shy or busy you are, copying and pasting a little thank you message isn’t that difficult, and doesn’t take that long. You could even leave a note in each new chapter to let your readers know you read their comments and appreciate them.

Acknowledging readers will encourage them to comment your fics more, and potentially to the benefit of other authors too.

Don’t start fights because of concrit

Readers, please know that a simple heart as additional kudos goes a long way. Saying what you liked or just that you're enjoying the story is really encouraging too!

If you’d like to leave concrit, maybe formulate your comment as a question instead of pointing something out, to avoid upsetting the author.

I’m sure you mean well when you leave a comment, and you don’t want to discourage the author if you like what they’re writing!

If the author is open to concrit, they’ll probably reply to your question and ask their own, which leads to a conversation. Better safe than sorry, offer concrit and wait for them to agree, there is no use in getting into a fight with the author.

A better use of your time as a reader would be to read even more, I’m not getting in the way of your fun, or go and offer comments & concrit to someone who is interested in what you have to say.

As a writer, I guess you can always write more, and maybe thank readers for their kind words!

How to establish dialogue with your readers

Disclaimer: I’m still learning, and the amount of comments I receive compared to my free time is manageable. Before you proceed, please note I asked my reader for permission to use their comments as examples.

Myulalie: I would like to make a tumblr post about comments and include yours as an example.

It's to explain why I value them and how I proceed to reply, because I have strong feelings about author/reader relationships ^^

Would you be okay with that? It's totally fine if you're not, I am asking for permission because I don't want to make you uncomfortable.

Also, if you agree and for some reason change your mind once you've read the tumblr post, I'll remove it, no questions asked ^^

Reader: I don’t mind at all, I know a lot of people don’t leave feedback, for a variety of reasons, so any education in how/why is always important. I’m just glad my comments fall in to the good category 😁

Thanks for asking, you have my permission to use any you like.

The context is as follows: The characters went on vacation and asked friends to pet-sit their cats. I then used the characters’ cats as plot devices for the characters to move in together. A cat hid under the sink and refused to leave, which brought forth the “moving in” conversation.

Reader: Alcohol + other person = trautamised cat and an empty drinks cabinet... which I would be making them restock, oh and embarrassed friends... the cat might want to stay but I know the signs of a traumatised let.. sometimes taking a chance on something turns out to be the best thing in your life, so far, until the proposal

This reader is lovely and has been commenting on every chapter of this story, as well as some other stories. We never had any issue whatsoever and even chatted about their cat.

This is what I consider a good relationship, and when I read this comment I was surprised. I did not expect them to interpret the story this way.

The fact is, this reader is “wrong” because it’s not what I meant when I wrote (nothing happened to the cat, the alcohol part of the chapter is not related to the cat’s behavior).

This reader is also right because this IS what I wrote. The cat is hiding for plot purposes, but the plot also includes the pet-sitters getting drunk. I implied them making out, then regretting it later, thus behaving weirdly around each other, which was meant as comic relief.

I have seen replies to similar comments and needless to say people get into fights over such misunderstandings.

Here is my reply:

Myulalie: I would like to make the official statement that nothing bad happened to the cats D:

Ragnor & Jace's shenaningans were meant to hint at drunk making out and nothing more. The worse thing Church had to go through is second hand embarrassment I promise ♥ I can't bring myself to traumatise Church and I'm glad you pointed out that it sorts of look like something was wrong with him ^^ The only thing "wrong" is the plot device I used to have malec move in together haha :')

I appreciate this reader trusting me enough to point this out and letting me know how they feel.

I think it’s important to be aware of how this can be read. A beta would probably have told me how the chapter looked from an external point of view and suggested writing the same idea differently. As things are, I didn’t have a beta-reader for this fic.

Here is the reader’s reply:

Reader: Lol, good to know, although in my experience cats bring it on themselves, nosy little voyeurs that they are....

See how we solved the problem by simply having a conversation? This is why I appreciate concrit and do my best to treat readers well.

edit: upon checking in with the reader to make sure the post sat well with them, they told me they never meant it as criticism and actually found the chapter funny, their comment was written in a sarcastic manner that I totally missed!

There, you have it. I am full of good intentions and I still miss some of the meaning of the comment!

There was a second comment on the following chapter.

I’ll just mention that one of the cats dipped his paws in a can of paint and made a mess on the wall. One of the character makes a pet account on Instagram to post pictures of the cat’s “artwork” with paint.

Reader: I always love a story that ends on a happy ever after, although I do think alec was taking a big chance tying the rings to the cats collars, especially after the paint incident... we won’t go in to what I think of people having Instagram accounts for their pets, although the paining does sound nice...

This was a very cute story and I’m glad that they found their forever person :grin:

If you don’t get it, this reader and me disagree on pet accounts.

The fact is, they are allowed to express themselves, and they did it respectfully. I don’t think this comment is rude, and I don’t think this reader feels “entitled”. Quite the contrary, they’re polite and felt comfortable enough to let me know what they think.

I didn’t argue with them. My reply consisted in politely reminding everyone who might read this story that this is a work of fiction, and that it’s here for both the reader’s and the author’s entertainment.

Myulalie: Well, I definitely don't recommend doing your proposal this way IRL, fortunately stories are a safe space to make crazy proposals for entertainment's sake :')

I'm glad you liked the ending! Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me all throughout the story, I really appreciated our chats ♥

edit: I thought we disagreed. We chatted again and they told me they don't have IG so they don't see the point of running 2 accounts, which fair. Because I used to run a pet account for my dog, I felt "attacked" where I absolutely wasn't.

One more example of misinterpretation!

I think the only way forward is together.

Authors deserve respect for their work, it doesn’t exempt them from being polite. Readers might need some sort of education on “comment etiquette”, and should be respected in return.

I want this platform to be a safe space for authors AND for readers.

#pearling down to business #on writing #commenting #comment culture #ao3 #concrit #constructive criticism #fanfiction

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bamon4bamily · 4 years

Text

TVD 9x13 (part 1) The past is never dead. Enjoy! =)

Cut to – The secret facility, Augustus’ office. Matt is waking up from the surgical procedure.

AUGUSTUS: I have some good news; you won’t need to wear an eye patch; the prosthetic fit perfectly. Trust me, you’ll thank me later. Anyway; better get ready for your father’s funeral. We put in an extra bed in Edward’s room so you can bunk with him for tonight, then you’ll be free to leave tomorrow and forget this ever happened, both of you. I’m sure you two have a lot of catching up. Your suit is in the closet, took the liberty of getting you a new one, the one you brought was an insult to fine tailoring. I’ll let these gentleman help you to your room (a group of what look to be soldiers take him to Edward’s cell room).

Cut to – Salvatore mansion living room. The gang has returned from their time travel adventure. Katherine is back in her body and sound asleep in her room. Bonnie, Caroline, Stefan, Damon, and Alaric, are having a night cap.

ALARIC: Well, that was insane… but I’m glad it all worked out, thanks to you, Bonnie.

BONNIE: We all did our part, that’s how a team works. If anything, it was all worth it just to see Katherine stuck in a teenagers body (they crack up).

DAMON: Totally worth it!

CAROLINE: Speaking of…

ALARIC: I knew there was no way I would avoid what’s coming…

CAROLINE: And you would be right. You made a major hiring decision without asking me, not cool.

ALARIC: I didn’t want to bother you during your vacation. If it helps, surprisingly, her students adore her.

CAROLINE: (In bitter acceptance) I know…

DAMON: (Taking the opportunity to bring up the subject) Who would have thought Kitty Kat would be teaching at the school, and actually give something back to society. Guess that in a twisted way, it kinda worked that she was given the opportunity…

ALARIC: Guess it did. Everyone deserves a chance.

CAROLINE: As much as I hate to admit it, it’s true.

DAMON: Makes you wonder about Kai…

BONNIE: (Gives him a look, he was not very subtle with his approach) Damon…

ALARIC: What are you talking about?! Kai and Katherine are very different stories.

DAMON: How exactly?

ALARIC: For starters, Katherine didn’t murder her entire family, or my wife for that matter.

DAMON: No, but if it’s about headcount, Katherine is above Kai; and if it’s personal, don’t forget she killed Caroline, and Jeremy.

CAROLINE: I almost forgot about that … that bitch! But I do love being a vampire, so it worked out in the end. But back on point, Kai also tried to kill the girls, and would do it in an instant if he could.

ALARIC: Them, and everyone else.

BONNIE: He could have killed all of us in the prison world, but he didn’t…

ALARIC: Because he was not being himself, somehow his psychotic break worked in our favor.

DAMON: Maybe he wasn’t “being himself” because he really has changed…

ALARIC: Are you hearing yourselves?! What are you guys implying? That Kai deserves a chance because he didn’t kill us? Are you serious! Bon, I’m surprised that you, of all people, would side with that train of thought.

BONNIE: Don’t patronize me, Ric. You are entitled to your opinion, and I’m entitled to mine. All I’m saying is that forgiveness is a virtue; and, repeating your own words, everyone deserves a chance, or at least the benefit of the doubt. You know, for a person that prides themselves for being objective, you are being anything but…

ALARIC: Bon, you know I love and respect you, but your talking crazy talk. Or did you forget what Kai put you through?

BONNIE: No; and I never will. But still, I found the strength to forgive him.

ALARIC: Sorry, but that’s not strength, if anything, it’s fear.

BONNIE: Oh, you’re gonna psychoanalyze me now?! Professor Saltzman, didn’t know you had so many specialties! Please, enlighten me!

ALARIC: Don’t push my buttons, Bon.

BONNIE: Don’t push mine, Ric.

ALARIC: I can’t believe we went through all that trouble just to spare you from having to see Kai; and now you pull this out your hat.

BONNIE: Well, your so called “masterplan” didn’t even work, so…

ALARIC: That one hurt.

BONNIE: It was meant to…

ALARIC: So much for forgiveness being a virtue, ha?

BONNIE: So much for objectivity being the reason behind judgment.

DAMON: Wow, wow, wow… guys, chill out. We are just having a conversation, no need to get personal.

BONNIE: Too late for that.

ALARIC: (Recognizing that got out of hand) I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to say those things. Seeing Kai opened an old wound. I, I…

BONNIE: I’m sorry too; don’t know what got into me. I understand your feelings, and I have no right to judge.

ALARIC: Neither do I…

DAMON: Aw, my besties are friensies again.

CAROLINE: Why don’t we make a deal, no mention of Kai, ever again… that escalated way too fast.

STEFAN: I agree.

ALARIC: It’s okay, Caroline, that’s what friendship is about. We might not always agree and bump heads on our views, but we speak our mind. And, in the spirit of being honest and direct, I have to say that I do have a double standard when it comes to Kai.

CAROLINE: Ric, literally, I just said not to mention the “K” word!

BONNIE: Ric is right, Care, we are all friends here, no need for bans. Listen, the reason this came up is because Damon and I had a long chat with Kai, he really did seem remorseful… And, in full disclosure, I’ve also been having these dreams, more like visions of him… His past, his future…I don’t know, changed my perspective… and when I finally saw him, I sensed it, the change, the remorse, the pain…

ALARIC: Full disclosure? I know, we had a chat of our own; didn’t remember it until we got back. I think he compelled me to forget, but the compulsion broke once I got here.

DAMON: So, what did he say?

ALARIC: That he was sorry, told me more about his past, but to be honest, I let his words come in and out. I didn’t want to hear it; I wasn’t ready… don’t know if I ever will. But I did feel like his words came from the heart. (To Bonnie) Forgiveness is a virtue, a clear sign of true strength. I admire you for that. And, if you want to give him the opportunity to redeem himself, and let him out of his prison, I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. It’s your call. The only thing I ask is for you to give me my time, space, and, of course, make sure he doesn’t present a danger to anyone. If you’re game, I’m on board.

CAROLINE: Uhm, so we are seriously considering this?

ALARIC: I guess we are. But we all have to agree; and set the ground rules.

CAROLINE: In favor of speaking the truth, I’m sorry but I have to say, when did we become a villain’s reform facility? This is Kai we are talking about, Kai! But, then… I did a lot of horrible things with my humanity switch off… God, I’m so confused! Never expected this conversation to turn into Ethics 101.

DAMON: None of us did, Blondie, but here we are…

BONNIE: We don’t have to decide now, let’s take some time to think this out.

ALARIC: I don’t need more time. I’m ready and willing to do this if you all are.

BONNIE: You already know my answer. I’m in, as long as he agrees to our terms.

DAMON: I’m with Bon.

STEFAN: I’m with Care; (looking at her) whatever you decide…

CAROLINE: (Turns to Ric) What about the girls? I don’t think Kai will be able to resist the temptation of eliminating the competition.

ALARIC: He doesn’t pose a threat, at least in that sense. There is no Gemini coven to compete for.

CAROLINE: And the psychological damage? Knowing their uncle killed their biological mom, and their family…

ALARIC: Even if he were here, they will never know that. They’ve been spelled to erase that from their mind.

CAROLINE: When was this? How come I didn’t know?!

ALARIC: Guess it never came up. I had Valerie do the spell as soon as they were born.

CAROLINE: And when he came back from hell?

ALARIC: They never knew who he was… and like I said, they’ll never know.

BONNIE: You know I would never put the girls in any danger. If I thought there were the slightest possibility of them getting hurt, I wouldn’t be considering this.

ALARIC: We know, that’s the only reason I agreed.

STEFAN: If we could take away his powers, it would make it easier to trust that he won’t use them for the wrong reasons…

BONNIE: We can’t take them away because of his vampirism, but I can bind them. And when, and if, he proves himself, I’ll give him access to them again.

ALARIC: Let’s talk supervision. He will need to be close to keep in check, but not too close.

DAMON: He could stay at the cottage, it’s not exactly the house, yet it’s close enough to supervise.

CAROLINE: Works for me, as long as he is banned from the house and the school; at least until I know he can be trusted.

BONNIE: (To Ric) … are you really okay with this?

ALARIC: Not nearly enough, but I understand why we should at least try. So let’s give that bastard the chance he never had; and if he doesn’t take it, we’ll send his ass right back where it came from. Everyone agree? (They nod).

DAMON: So, when are we doing this?

BONNIE: How about Thanksgiving, to go with the spirit?

CAROLINE: Only if you promise me that he won’t ruin my dinner!

BONNIE: He won’t, I promise.

ALARIC: There’s no way in hell he’s having dinner with us, right, Bon?

BONNIE: No; Damon and I will set him up at the cottage, then we’ll join you guys. Everything will work out.

CAROLINE: How can we be sure he won’t flee the minute he’s left alone.

BONNIE: Binding spell, he won’t be able to leave the cottage.

STEFAN: Can’t he just siphon the spell away?

BONNIE: Not with his powers bound.

DAMON: Well, it’s all figured out… Look at us, who would have thought we would ever be thinking of this, let along doing it.

BONNIE: Who would have thought I would be the one to put it on the table … Guess some things do change.

ALARIC: Guess they do… Okay, now that that’s settled, I’m gonna call it a night. See you guys tomorrow (he leaves).

Cut to – The Powell mansion, Edward arrives after being MIA for some days. Anthony is relieved to see he is alive and well.

ANTHONY: Sir. (gives him a fatherly hug); you had me almost go mad of worry!

EDWARD: I’m sorry, Anthony, I’m fine. I just needed a couple of days off the radar to clear my head.

ANTHONY: Would it be too much to ask to inform us, next time you feel like performing a disappearing act?

EDWARD: I will. I promise.

ANTHONY: You should inform The Madame you are here…

THE MADAME: (Walks in the room, looking mad, and worried) That won’t be necessary. I swear I could smack you right now!

EDWARD: I am sorry, I should have told you both. But I’m back, and fine.

THE MADAME: (Hugs him) Thank god! Where the hell did you go?

EDWARD: (Hesitant, he doesn’t seem to remember himself) Uhm, just some place I know… Listen, I’m really sorry for what I put you through, but I’m exhausted, and really need some decent sleep. Goodnight, we’ll talk more in the morning (goes up to his room).

THE MADAME: Something is off with him…

ANTHONY: Something indeed.

Cut to – Fell’s church, underground tombs, late at night. A large number of bodies, that look like they have been horribly attacked, are piled up.

VERITAS: That was a beautiful dinner, my love.

LUCINDA: I had them specially wined and dined, just for you (kisses him).

VERITAS: I know this is not what I promised, but once I get what I need from this god-awful place, I swear on my soul that I will give you anything you want.

LUCINDA: (Teasing) You don’t have a soul.

VERITAS: Would you still love me if I did?

LUCINDA: Of course not… (One of the bodies makes a sound, she approaches) Oops, looks like this one didn’t get enough. Want to finish him off?

VERITAS: Please, you do the honors. (She savagely tares into his neck, until she rips his head off).

LUCINDA: (As she wipes the blood from her mouth) And where exactly in this puny little town is that “thing” you are looking for?

VERITAS: It’s in the church’s altar, but given our “situation”, we can’t access that area; or so it is believed. I don’t want to risk turning into dust, only to find out if it is in fact true. We need to compel someone to fetch it for us.

LUCINDA: Why didn’t you compel one of the dinner plates to do it?

VERITAS: It’s not that simple. Only the worthy ones can have access. (Looking down at the bodies) Do any of these seem godly to you?

LUCINDA: Not judging from the place I got them… (They smirk).

VERITAS: (Kisses her) God, I love you, woman!

LUCINDA: And I love you.

VERITAS: Trust me, once you see what it is, you’ll know its worth it. I would tell you, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise.

LUCINDA: I understand. When are the others arriving?

VERITAS: Tomorrow. So let’s not waste any more time, and take advantage of our alone time… (grabs her passionately; they make love, unperturbed by the massacred bodies that surround them).

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Cut to – Munich University, operating theatre. Elena, Sage, and Alex, are working on an assignment for a Biomedical Robotics project.

ELENA: (Trying to surgically implant a chip in a corpse, and failing badly) This is so above my abilities! Hell, I can’t even open a regular corpse, let along insert this thing inside it! I’m premed for Christ sake; how do they expect me to know this.

ALEX: Relax, Elena, no one expects you to. That’s the beauty of this program, it’s about the challenge, not your educational level. You’ve read the books, seen the lectures, now practice. It’s all trial and error, and they know. That’s why they give us dead bodies to experiment.

SAGE: They do that in Med school too, Alex. The only difference is that here, we don’t have to follow the rules.

ELENA: I don’t even know what the rules are!

SAGE: Trust me, you don’t need to know them. Medicine is about knowledge and experience. Know your art, master your art, fuck the rules.

ELENA: No disrespect but that sounds very irresponsible.

SAGE: Do you think Marie Curie was following the rules when she discovered radium and polonium? Love what you do, work your ass off, and believe in yourself, that’s all you need. Nothing irresponsible about that.

ELENA: Guess not…

ALEX: Where’s Sam anyway? Wasn’t he assigned to this project too?

ELENA: We had a little fall out, I asked him to team up with the other group; needed some space.

SAGE: What happened?

ELENA: You know what happened.

SAGE: Wait? Is this about the test tube thing? I swear, I was just doing a solid for a friend.

ELENA: I know, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at him for not telling me, especially for not destroying it like I asked him to.

SAGE: You were right to do that, by the way. That thing is creepy.

ELENA: Were you able to find out what it is?

SAGE: It was impossible, molecules behaved very strangely… almost like they purposely changed themselves when they knew they were being watched… Never seen anything like that before. Maybe if I had more time to study it, I could have figured it out, but Pietro caught me red-handed and confiscated it. Listen, in Sam’s defense, he is very protective of the people he loves, he was probably just trying to find out what it was, and why someone would send it to you…

ELENA: I know, but still, he should have told me.

SAGE: Well, no arguing there. Hey, can’t say I didn’t try.

ELENA: Thanks, but I’m gonna punish him for a bit longer.

SAGE: I have some whips, if you’re into that sort of thing (teasing wink).

ELENA: (Smirks) I’ll let you know. Anyway, about Pietro, you guys really need to be careful with him.

ALEX: (Mocking) Because he’s a vampire?

ELENA: No, because he’s insane.

ALEX: How so?

ELENA: I don’t know, he rubs me the wrong way.

SAGE: He’s just eccentric, in a blood sucking type of way.

ELENA: Just be careful with him…

SAGE: Why, did something happen?

ELENA: No, I haven’t even exchanged one word with him, but I have a gut feeling.

ALEX: I get where you are coming from.

SAGE: (With lust in her eyes) But he’s so yummy! Wouldn’t mind a little evil if it comes in that package.

ELENA: He’s like 200 years old…

SAGE: (Sarcastically) Uhm, really?

ELENA: Okay, forget I said that, putting my foot in my mouth.

ALEX: (Snarky) Oh, come on, Sage, can you not let your panties blur you’re judgement, for once. Didn’t’ you hear what Elena said, she has a gut feeling, maybe you should listen.

SAGE: What I do with my panties is my business, so mind your own.

ALEX: No problem; I was just trying to be a friend.

SAGE: No, you weren’t; but whatever, over it.

ELENA: (Sensing the clear tension between the two) Okay, why don’t we get back to our patient; he might be dead, but if he weren’t, he’d definitely be dead by now.

Cut to - Alaric’s bedroom, late into the night. He’s sound asleep, in full rem mode. In his dream, a familiar face appears.

JO: Ric…

ALARIC: Jo?

JO: (Smiling) Last time I checked, that is who I was…

ALARIC: (Hugs her tight) Why haven’t you visited? It’s been so long since the last time you came to me…

JO: You needed to move on, and if I kept showing up in your dreams, you wouldn’t have.

ALARIC: I miss you.

JO: I miss you too. But you have to let me go, I’m fine, I’m at peace. And Radka, is absolutely wonderful… Don’t you dare ruin that.

ALARIC: (Smiles) I won’t, I promise. But you didn’t come here to tell me that, did you?

JO: No, I didn’t.

ALARIC: We are insane for thinking about it, I’m sorry I even gave it a thought. I’ll backtrack it all tomorrow, I swear.

JO: Don’t. That’s why I’m here, but not for the reason you think. I understand everything now, and giving him an opportunity is the right thing to do. He’s ready for this, and so am I. That’s why I’ve come to you… to let you know that I support you, all of you.

ALARIC: But how could you be fine with this, after everything he’s done?

JO: He’s my brother, Ric. I want to... I need to believe in him… You weren’t there when we were growing up, they treated him horribly since he took his first breath. He never had a fighting chance; they broke him before he could even be a whole… I never understood what that implied, until I died.

ALARIC: Jo, I…

JO: I know, but don’t be. There is nothing to be scared of. Our girls will be perfectly fine. You, me, and Caroline, have made sure of that.

ALARIC: But…he killed you…

JO: I killed him first… by not trying, by not standing by his side when I was witnessing all the abuse. He deserves for someone to fight for him, to believe in him… and you are the one.

ALARIC: Jo, I don’t know how to do this…

JO: You’ll figure it out, you always do (smiles and kisses him). I have to go, just know that I love you, and the girls, always and forever. You have made me even prouder for finding it in your heart to at least try.

ALARIC: (Crying) Wait, please, don’t go… don’t leave me alone.

JO: You are not alone; you never will be.

ALARIC: I love you…

(she vanishes as his dream transcends into consciousness).

Cut to – 2018 prison world. Kai is having another one of his uncanny tea parties with the Miss. Cuddles replicas.

KAI: I told you she wouldn’t leave us here. We are going home! Any day now, any day… (smiles, sips his tea, the same Beethoven song lingering in the background).

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TVD 9x13 (part 2) coming next! Hope you stop by, read, and enjoy! =)

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lightchildofthespring · 3 years

Text

The fantastic adventures of Takeru Takaishi

Chapter 4: Old friend

Summary: with no news from his henchmen, who had gone up the hill after the revolutionaries, the lord of Turtle Island has a conversation with the monk. The mysterious cleric sounds like a young man, but doesn’t act like one. The Goddess, the Devil, the Angel of Death, the Light stealer... the mystery behind Koushiro’s curse begins to be unveiled by his oldest friend.

Shigeo Yamanaka was very surprised by the visit of a member of the Order of the Nameless Monks that morning. They were the highest order in the hierarchy of the Church, having only the High Priestess above them, and they were said to be the most skilled warriors in the world. The one who entered his house unceremoniously had the voice of a young man, but something in his way of talking denounced more age and experience than that person should have.

The monk told him that the Goddess herself had given him the mission of helping Yamanaka destroy the revolutionaries on that island. Yamanaka wasn't sure he could trust that man, but to oppose a nameless monk could bring grave repercussions, such as losing his title of Lord of Turtle Island. Besides, sending his armed henchmen up the hill to hunt down the rebels would probably not cause too many losses, considering that the revolutionaries usually ran from battles they couldn't win. What caused him apprehension, though, was to be left alone in the mansion with that cleric who, not satisfied in sending away his henchmen, also ordered Yamanaka's employees to leave the place for the rest of the day.

Hours passed and the night fell. The smoke that had been seen on the hill earlier had already dissipated. Yet, there was no sign of anyone returning from that place. His men largely outnumbered the rebels, there should be no possibility that they could have lost. The noble kept telling himself that, attempting to remain calm. His men couldn't have been defeated! It was impossible!

But what if it wasn't? It became too hard to divert his mind from that possibility. He sent everybody there! Everybody! If the revolutionaries, by some miracle, killed them all, Yamanaka would be left without enforcers! Who would collect the taxes? Who would punish the insolent and ungrateful peasants? What about the servants? Who would keep them under control?

Then, a different and more visceral fear emerged. In the off chance that he lost all his henchmen, who would keep the Lord of Turtle Island safe? Those ignorant peasants would invade his property and steal his valuable possessions! Those brutes would threaten his life in exchange for richness they didn't deserve! The Yamanaka house had served the Empire for almost one thousand years, which was the same as serving the Goddess! How could he accept that the blessings received by his family, a true reward for their hard work and loyalty, could be tainted by simple-minded commoners who didn't know their place?

Yamanaka took a deep breath. There was nothing good at letting his imagination get wild. That cleric, a true messenger of the Goddess, had assured him that things would work out fine. Weren't the nameless monks known for being undefeatable? The noble had nothing to fear when a carrier of divine grace had vowed to protect him. Nevertheless, he was still standing in front of the large window of his living room, trying to spot anything suspicious in the dark. Without Yamanaka noticing it, the monk took the liberty to take two glasses of wine from a cabinet. He approached Yamanaka and offered him one of the glasses while taking a sip from the other.

“I thought monks weren't allowed to drink alcohol,” Yamanaka commented, astonished at the audacity of that man, who was treating himself to such expensive wine.

Shouldn't monks be frugal? Shouldn't they avoid earthly pleasures? That man was certainly a disgrace to the Church! Yamanaka wished he could see the other's face, which remained mostly covered by the cloak's hood, so that he could give the description to one of his friends in the court, who would certainly alert the High Priestess about the inadequacy of having such a disrespectful man as part of the Church's highest order!

The monk smirked, confusing Yamanaka. He couldn't imagine how anything he had said could have been perceived as funny.

“You seem like someone very knowledgeable on the matters of religion” the cleric told him. “How about I put that to a test? It'd help to pass the time, don't you agree?”

Yamanaka's annoyance dissolved as terror took over his being. He had heard stories about the ways the nameless monks tested people's faith through the centuries. In all those stories, he didn't remember about someone who had passed the test. The punishment for failing, as everybody knew, was excommunication. Was that monk really such a petty person, did that man have such a low soul, that he would get revenge over an innocent remark about wine? Especially when that cleric was the one in fault while Shigeo Yamanaka had never done anything wrong in his entire existence?

“Let's see...” the monk said. The amusement in his voice was undeniable, “what can you tell me about Justine the Great?”

Yamanaka relaxed. That should be the easiest question in the world. Maybe that cleric really just wanted to pass the time. Why did his imagination have to be that much of a burden?

“The first Empress was the mightiest warrior to ever live. She never lost a battle and conquered the entire Old Continent by the time she was 34 years old,” Yamanaka spoke with absolute confidence. “When she died, right after giving birth to her son Marius, it is said that pure white light rose from her body, marking her ascension to the Heavens. That consolidated the already popular belief that Justine was never an ordinary human, but a goddess incarnated. The only Goddess to ever bless our world!”

The monk laughed. Yamanaka was perplexed at the reaction. In the good old days, that lack of respect for the Goddess would demand death by fire!

“Such passion! Such faith! You remind me of myself when I was younger,” the monk told him.

“I am older than you!” Yamanaka stated. “In my very long life, I had never met anyone nearly as blasphemous as you, monk!”

“Is that so? How lucky must you be...” the cleric's voice suddenly became cold and low. Nervous, Yamanaka drank some of the wine that he had been offered.

“I had a blasphemous friend, once...” the monk said, gazing out of the window. “My sister and I rescued him from the sea, I remember he was too terrified to speak. We arranged a place for him at the Izumi farm, which was close to ours. Mr. and Mrs. Izumi were old and needed help... he said that he wanted to help people... back then, I believed in everything he said...”

“Why are you telling me about a random friend of yours?” Yamanaka inquired.

“Oh, my apologies...” the monk had irony in his voice, “is there something else you wish to discuss?”

“As a matter of fact, there is!” Yamanaka stated. “For instance, why hasn't any of my henchmen returned yet? How long could it take for them to hunt those damn rebels? You told me it would be an easy victory!”

“Your henchmen saw the Devil and ran away,” the monk informed. “They won't come to this place, but the revolutionaries will.”

“What did you just say?” Yamanaka believed that the other man had a strange sense of humor.

“You remind me of the Lord of Turtle Island we had when I was growing up, Shigeo...”

“Don't call me by my first name, young man!” Yamanaka scolded the other. “Does your insolence know no limits! This is definitely not the behavior I expect from a holy man!”

“When the plague came, that man didn't care about the people who were dying,” the monk continued his story, ignoring the other. “He hid behind the walls of his castle, praying that he could be spared...” his tone became increasingly darker, which sent chills down Yamanaka's spine, “I've always wondered what would have happened if at least he had tried to help... my parents... my sister... maybe they could've been saved. But that lord was a selfish pig who only had contempt for the people who served him. Just like you...”

“Now, that's enough!” Yamanaka roared. “I don't care about your rank! I'll denounce you to the Emperor himself! And the Emperor shall have the High Priestess excommunicate you! I'm from an important noble family and won't tolerate anyone disrespect-”

The monk took out a sword that had been concealed under his cloak and pointed it to the noble's direction. Yamanaka fell on his back. He hadn't let go of the glass of wine he had been holding, which had broken and was now cutting the palm of his hand.

Was he going to die? He had never seriously considered that anyone would have the nerve to spill the blood of a noble man like him. That was inconceivable! To kill a noble was to insult the Emperor! It was an insult to the Goddess herself! As a cleric, that man should know that better than anyone! Or did he think that, for being a nameless monk, he was entitled to disrupt the natural order of the world?

The monk approached him and put the tip of the sword on the old man's neck, who was shaking from the top of his head to his toes. He wanted to protest against the ignominy of it all. But, disgracefully, his self-preservation instinct seemed to have proven itself as stronger than his honor. Therefore, he begged:

“P-Please, don't k-kill me... I-I didn't mean to offend you in a-any way... I'll give you a-anything you w-want... I'll do a-anything...”

“Do you know what would be fun? What about we continue with our little test?” the assailant proposed in low voice. “Tell me about the Devil, Shigeo.”

Yamanaka knew that his life depended on him answering that right. Unfortunately, that knowledge only made him more anxious. All the things that he had learned about the subject were escaping his mind in great speed. Desperate, he tried to answer before he forgot what the question even was.

“T-The stealer of L-Light...” Yamanaka stuttered, “h-he t-tried to s-steal a s-soul from H-Heaven and g-got p-p-punished... c-cursed w-with i-infinite d-deaths...”

“That's the basic version of the story,” the monk commented. “The soul he tried to steal belonged to the kindest and sweetest person who had ever lived. When she was taken by the plague, I thought my life was over... but my friend...” he trembled, “he promised that he would help her... the next thing I knew, Justine herself was in front of me, and she told me...” a single tear was visible rolling down his cheek, “... she told me that my friend's sins had been so grave that it wasn't enough to just curse him. My sister, the one he had tried to rescue, was sent to the deepest dungeon in Hell. And the Goddess gave me the mission of purging Koushiro's soul until it's completely purified... I was to kill my best friend again and again, until his soul was saved... only then, she would release her... to save my sister, I have become the Angel of Death.”

At that point, Yamanaka was completely convinced that the cleric was out of his mind and lost hope that he could be able to reason with him.

“I believe the revolutionaries have arrived,” the monk announced, turning to the door of the living room. A muscular blond man and a woman with orange hair kicked the door open and entered the room, accompanied by five other people. They all were pointing their guns at Yamanaka, who was still on the floor, lying on his back. The blond man shot the monk twice. The bullets, however, stopped in midair. They turned incandescent and melted, never reaching their target.

“He really is invulnerable... just like Koushiro said...” the redhead woman murmured.

“I-Impossible!” another woman, with purple hair, exclaimed. She had a disturbed look on her face.

“What a lovely group you are,” the monk commented, bemused. “I don't feel like killing you tonight. It would be better to get out of my way.”

“You promised you would protect me!” Yamanaka shouted, desperate. “I did everything you told me to do, monk! You can't just leave me with those bandits!”

“Are you really that dense, Shigeo?” the monk asked, annoyed. “Were you paying attention to anything I said? I never intended to protect you! I simply used you to lure my friend to this place!”

The glass window behind the cleric and the noble was broken as six bullets, in sequence, were shot from the outside. The bullets were stopped by an invisible field surrounding the monk and, in a matter of seconds, they melted.

Astonished, Yamanaka watched as that strange man turned to the broken window, beaming. The monk took his hood off, allowing the wind to mess his large brown hair.

At the garden, outside the window, a man drenched in blood stood, still holding the shotgun.

“How many times did you die on your way here, Koushiro?” the monk inquired, jumping to the garden. “Honestly, you embarrass me at times. What was the big idea, anyway? You know you can't hurt me. Not physically, at least.”

“I was simply trying to get your attention,” Koushiro informed. “Sometimes, you can be so easily distracted...”

“You should know by now that nothing can distract me from you,” the other said, pointing his blade at Koushiro's direction. “Shall we dance, old friend?”

Koushiro looked at him with sadness and replied:

“What other choice do I have, Taichi?”

#the fantastic adventures of takeru takaishi #digimon #digimon adventure #au fic #koushiro izumi #I hope you guys like friends to enemies trope #izumi koushiro #yagami taichi #taichi yagami #sadly Takeru doesn't appear in this chapter #sort of #taishiro

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advice-n-help-queen · 4 years

Text

How to TRULY move on...

“This is a long post but I have to get it out because it’s been killing me.

Me and my ex had been close friends for almost 3 and a half years. We met our senior year and from that moment on I had a huge crush on him. It wasn’t until the summer before our sophomore year of college that I admitted I had feelings for him. To my surprise he felt the same way. He was bi but that didn’t bother me. We weren’t official till school started but I assumed we were exclusive because of how he felt about me. Two weeks before classes started he told me he had to admit something. While I was away house sitting he had a short fling with a girl from his work. He made out and sent nudes back and forth with her. I was devastated. During his fling he’d visited and acted like everything was ok. It took me till school started to even speak to him. I knew I should have ended things right there but I was a stupid 19 year old girl who finally had a guy who liked me. I told him as long as he cut all contact with the girl I’d forgive him. He said he did so I did. For the next months we were happy. I even told him I thought I was falling in love with him and he said he felt that way too. It wasn’t until November came that I felt the change. He became distant and would leave me on read. I chalked it up to midterm stress. After a week of barely talking or even seeing each other I confronted him. I told him I didn’t understand what was going. He told me it was nothing and led me to think I was over reacting. By Thanksgiving I’d had enough. When we were on the phone I told him I wanted the truth or I was breaking up with him. He again told me I was overreacting and nothing was going on, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to be with someone who cared about me and didn’t gaslight me. I told him I was done and if he couldn’t be honest with me I couldn’t stay around. He didn’t try to stop me or even say anything. I hung up in tears and cried myself to sleep. A few days later he posted a very intimate photo with a male friend of his. My heart broke. The entire time we were in a relationship he was cheating on me with him. The fact that it was a guy didn’t bother me it was the cheating. I didn’t care what gender the other person was all I cared was that he cheated on me. Word spread fast through our friend group that he left me for a guy. They talked about how he only dated me because I wasn’t girly and I was basically a guy with boobs. I avoided all of them for the rest of the semester. I went to class and went home. My depression got worse and I thought very little of myself. Over break I took a lot of time to myself and worked on liking myself again. When school started again my ex wanted to talk. He said him and the guy broke up and he really wanted to be friends again. I told him I couldn’t, he broke my heart and destroyed my self esteem. But he didn’t understand. I walked away and haven’t spoken to him since.

People say I need to forgive and forget. But I can’t. I need advice on how to move on and pursue other relationships and not feel like with everyone it will end like this.”

I’ve been absolutely ITCHING to respond to this. I’m sorry in advance for how long this is going to be lol, but I have a LOT to say.

First, I’d like to say that I appreciate how difficult this has all been for you, especially considering how long he has been in your life. But the quicker the grieving process begins the better and easier it will be for you in the long run. You’re going to cause yourself more hurt by holding onto the past and the memories. He’s shown you who he really is and what he’s really like. Believe him. Don’t make excuses for him. The longer someone has been in our lives, the more inclined we feel to hold onto them and not let go. But as the saying goes, quantity does not always correlate with quality. Yes, he has been around for a long time, but in hindsight has be actually added anything positive to your life? Has he made you happy in all of that time? Has he considered your feelings, and has he ever been concerned about hurting you? NO. Are you better off without him? YES. Which is exactly why today is the day I help you officially be rid of this undeserving ****.

When you first got with him, you weren’t wrong to assume that he felt the same way about you. I mean he gave you the impression that you two were exclusive, right? He made you feel special, confessed his feelings. So, don’t feel regret or blame yourself. I myself have no clue why people are like this. Some people just love to play games, some people are just complete narcissists. They make us fall for them only to go back on their word and hurt us. And it sucks that we get tangled up with these types of people. And it sucks even more that it’s usually the pure-hearted, sincere people that end up in these helpless predicaments.

Just know that you did the right thing by leaving. A guy who genuinely likes you will never ever consider cheating and will never entertain other people, even if this does just include a “harmless flirtatious text”. I don’t care what anyone says. That’s why I think no one should ever condone or make excuses for someone who cheated on them. And I know it’s easier said than done which is why people forgive and get back together with someone who cheated on them. And I know people have their reasons for doing this. But I believe cheating should signify a definitive end to a relationship. I believe that people who give second chances are doomed to a life of insecurity, regret and negative thoughts that will slowly eat them apart. A relationship without trust is not a relationship at all. I feel even more passionate about this having witnessed a genuine relationship, a relationship full of love, trust and understanding. Now don’t get me wrong, no relationship is perfect. But if your partner shows, not only through their words but their actions too, that they are completely devoted to you then this is more likely to be the person you spend the rest of your life with.

When someone truly loves you they will prioritise your well-being and happiness; make sacrifices for the good of the relationship; listen to you; acknowledge their mistakes (big or small) and commit themselves to making things right; make time for you; respect you, and will NEVER make you question their love for you. Also, you will not have to pretend or compromise your identity with this person, they will love you for you. Which sounds cringe I know, but it’s honestly the truth. If a person is not putting in the maximum amount of effort, then they are showing that they don’t care whether they lose you or not and thus are not deserving of you. A guy who likes you will never leave you on read, ignore you, become distant without an explanation. It shows they aren’t thinking about you, do not care about upsetting you and simply do not care. Do not settle for this type of treatment. Never settle for less than what you deserve or sell yourself short. There is someone out there who is desperate to give you what you deserve and treat you the way you should be treated.

You not ending things immediately, despite everything, does not make you stupid. Maybe a little naïve but then I guess I am guilty off the exact same thing. All the warning signs were there but I sub-consciously chose to ignore them. The feeling of being liked and worth someone’s time is so SO addictive. Especially when you’re not used to that type of attention and I guess when you’re a little insecure too (because that annoying, nosy insecurity bitch always likes to get involved).

It takes a really strong person to put an end to things and realise the toxicity of a relationship despite the temporary (fake?} comfort and happiness it provided for us. So guess what? That makes you an extremely strong person even if right now you’re feeling weak and defeated. And that is a key step to moving on. Do not victimise yourself but instead view yourself as a strong individual. After leaving a toxic relationship it is normal for us to blame ourselves. Our instincts are to remember the good times but forget the manipulation, the control and the isolation. Our minds rush to remember the kind words, romantic gestures and the undeniable chemistry you and your partner shared. But this is the same person who left you broken and emotionally traumatised. This is the person who made you feel so much self-doubt, insecurity and loneliness. So I am going to help rewire your brain and help get it back in check. I am going to remind you that you left him for a reason - a reason that is COMPLETELY and UNDENIABLY valid. Never try to compromise your decision or give it a second thought. He treated you like shit. You are a queen yet he treated you like a peasant.

Please please PLEASE get mad with me. Does this not make you mad?! I am mad for you. I am mad for all the people out there who have been mistreated and unjustly disrespected. I am mad at all the people out there who think it’s okay to play mind games and toy with people’s emotions as if they are not human beings. I am just straight up MAD. Please don’t allow yourself to get sad anymore, I’m sure you’ve had your days where you’ve cried and helplessly broken down. And you are completely entitled to these days, we need to get it all out of our system to truly allow the moving on process to begin. But now I just want you to think of him for what he is. A dishonest, manipulative, insensitive piece of ****. This is the motivation you need to allow yourself to move on. You need to reprogram your brain. You are a boss ass bitch. You need to channel that. Rather than spending your time thinking about him, spend that time on yourself. You deserve your time more than anyone else. This is a step that really helped me move on. And I’m still in the process of moving on, so trust me, I’m not going to preach to you like it’s easy, but a start is better than nothing. We can do this together. We’re strangers but gurl I feel so connected to you right now.

You know what you should do? Go to the gym. Work on bettering yourself and making yourself feel good for YOU, not for anyone else. You think someone liking you is an addictive feeling but that has NOTHING on the feeling of self-love and self-appreciation. Nothing is more empowering than that. We don’t need any man to make us feel happy and good about ourselves. Sure it can help add to it. But that’s all it should be. An accesory, not the complete outfit. (Did that make sense? in my head it sounded like poetry but writing it.. i’m not so sure anymore lol). You don’t even have to go to the gym - it’s all about doing things that you genunely want to do and want to dedicate time to. Whether that be yoga, reading a book, going out with friends…

Oh and that’s another thing. That “friend group” of yours is no friend group. You should be around people who uplift you and bring nothing but positivtiy and good vibes. After my break-up I spent the weekend with my best friend, eating an abundance of food that was bad for us and screaming the lyrics to enpowering songs. These are the type of people you need to surround yourself with. Not people who bully you and make you feel bad about yourself after a traumatic experience. Hell, I’m more of a friend to you than them and we don’t even know each other. Girl, talk to me. You don’t need them.

I’m so proud of you for walking away. I tried being “friends” which someone who broke me but it was just impossible. I don’t know how people do it, but it’s just not possible for me. Why burden yourself with the constant reminder of the pain someone caused you with no remorse? The worst thing is, as you said, they just don’t understand. They will accuse you of “over-reacting”, making you feel stupid for feeling the way you feel. I tried talking to my ex just to try and understand why he did what he did, to get some “closure”. But it just ended up doing more harm than good. People claim we need closure in order to move on but I don’t think this is always the case. Sometimes we just have to accept that some people are shit and that they do shit things. It’s not on us, it’s all on them. Why they are so shit is something they have to figure out, not us. You need to rid yourself of him. Delete his number, block him if you have to. Don’t message him. Don’t have any association with him. He’s not worth your time or space. Also posting sexy ass pictures now and then doesn’t hurt either. Show him what he’s missing. Because he really IS missing out.

And I know you fear getting into another relationship because you are worried it’s fated to have the same outcome. But trust me, when you spend time prioritising yourself and when you eventually grow to fully love and appreciate yourself, you’ll attract people who are good for you. You’ll learn to set boundaries and know your worth and NOT tolerate any bullshit. You’ll keep your standards high and will be able to detect the lying, conniving assholes from a mile away. You got this. The same thing won’t happen again because you won’t allow it to happen again. You hear me?

I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through. You asked for advise on how to move on and I’m sorry the answer hasn’t been so straightforward. I think the important thing is that you constantly remind yourself of how amazing you are and how wrong he was for treating you the way he did. Yes I don’t know you, but what I can tell immediately is that you’re a compassionate, loving and genuine person – someone who a guy will be extremely lucky to have some day. Also, another important factor is time. You need to give yourself time. Everyone says this but it’s true. Don’t beat yourself up if you occasionally relapse and find yourself broken again, it’s all a part of the process. But just know you WILL get through it. And remember, if you ever need someone to talk to, I can assure you that I am here. <3

I’m also going to make a mini playlist of songs that helped me feel empowered. Something as small as the music you listen to can also play a big part in changing your mood and aiding the moving-on process. BUH-BYE to songs that make us feel sad and nostalgic.

Playlist

· Lil Boi (Big Talk) [Ayanis ft. Queen Naija]

· Unlove You [Ann Marie]

· Heard It All Before [Toni Romiti]

· B.I.T.C.H [Megan Thee Stallion]

· Switch Up (Part 2) [Toni Romiti]

· Who Dis [Toni Romiti ft. Russ]

· I Know [Toni Romiti]

· Need Me [Toni Romiti]

· Unimpressed [Toni Romiti]

· Time To Leave [Toni Romiti]

· Options [Toni Romiti]

· None Of Your Concern [Jhene Aiko ft. Big Sean]

· Rebound [Savannah Cristina]

· Self Care [Savannah Cristina]

· Self Love [Dreameville, Ari Lennox & Bas ft. Baby Rose)

· So What [Amaal]

· Later [Amaal]

· Just Might [Summer Walker ft. PARTYNEXTDOOR]

· Not The Same [Sybyr ft. Landfill]

· Unleash me [Sybyr]

· I Don’t Like You [Sybyr]

· No Scrubs [TLC]

· See Me [Melii]

· Best Thing I Never Had [Beyonce]

· Why Don’t You Love me? [Beyonce]

· Freakum Dress [Beyonce]

· Irreplaceable [Beyonce]

· 6 Inch [Beyonce ft. The Weeknd]

· Freedom [Beyonce ft. Kendrick Lamar]

· Sorry (Original Demo) [Beyonce]

· I Don’t Fuck With You [Big Sean]

· Be Careful [Cardi B]

· Bodak Yellow [Cardi B]

· I’m Every Woman [Chaka Khan]

· Deuces [Chris Drown]

· Handle It [Chris Brown (ft. DeJ Loaf & Lil Yachty]

· Grass Ain’t Greener [Chris Brown]

· Cheetah [Chris Brown]

· Zero [Chris Brown]

· Level Up [Ciara]

· Needed me [Rihanna]

· Wild Thoughts [DJ Khaled ft. Rihanna]

· Bitch Better Have My Money [Rihanna]

· Sorry Not Sorry [Demi Lovato]

· Games [Demi Lovato]

· Say My Name [Destiny’s Child]

· Survuvor [Destiny’s Child]

· Nice For What [Drake]

· 7 rings [Ariana Grande]

· breathin [Ariana Grande]

· in my head [Ariana Grande]

· thank u, next [Ariana Grande]

· Broke Up With You [Toni Romiti]

· A Woman’s Worth [Alicia Keys]

· Right Back [Ar'mon and Trey]

· 2 [H.E.R]

· U [H.E.R]

· I Won’t [H.E.R]

· I Will Survive [Gloria Gaynor]

· Crooked Smile [J. Cole]

· Love Yourz [J. Cole]

· Ain’t Your Mama [Jennifer Lopez]

· Love Don’t Cose A Thing [Jennifer Lopez]

· Stronger [Kanye West]

· I Hate You So Much Right Now [Kelis]

· Poetic Justice [Kendrick Lamar ft. Drake]

· Bitch, Don’t Kill My Vibe [Kendrick Lamar ft. Emeli Sande]

· Alright [Kendrick Lamar]

· Leave Me Alone [Michael Jackson]

· Love Me Right [Moxie Knox]

· Feeling Myself [Nicki Minaj]

· Don’t Cha [Nicole Scherzinger]

· Medicine [Queen Naija]

· Karma [Queen Naija]

(I know I said a MINI playlist but I couldn’t help myself…)

Also, I’m going to add some youtube videos that helped me a lot. They’ll help remind you that you are, and always will be, a boss ass bitch.

· https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Jo1rSII6vU

· https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RTFp8cuBVLk

· https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m1SLA7cmeHo

· https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I64AVJKsaWc

· https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2dh1W-1Ulgo

· https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jUjwVVxW0Mc

· https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hMOPCvTM0o8

· https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hcJ9vxn2yY

· https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X-NqX-g99jA

@wonderland-delusions

#help #advice #relationship problems #relationship advice #breakup #hurt #boss ass bitch #bad ass bitch #moving on #enpowerment #narcissists #toxic relationships #boy bye #submission

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howtolistentomusic · 4 years

Photo

There's a radio sitting atop a pile of boxes. I grab it and hand it over to Carlos. He sets the device on the edge of the container and pushes the power button. We're greeted with a burst of static. He fiddles with the tuner until he stumbles upon "Wicked" by Future.

"Aw yeah!" he says as he turns the volume way up. "Some real music! Anthony, take notes!"

"I'm insulted by the implication that I don't listen to hip-hop."

"You bump 2Pac between Justin Bieber songs?" David says.

"Hell yeah I do!"

"Guacha!" David says.

Pronounced as if a stressed "ah" sound is added at the end of the English word watch, guacha is a Spanish verb for "look." Informally, though, it means something more like I approve! It's typically complimentary though it often carries a connotation of surprise that can come off as condescending. Against all odds, David basically said to me, I'm impressed. Welcome to the big boys club.

"2Pac is the greatest rapper of all time," Carlos says.

"Well, I don't know about that."

Don't get me wrong. I genuinely do like 2Pac. I grew up in Southern California, after all. But the GOAT? There's no way. He's a compelling figure for many reasons but too many others can rap circles around him.

"Listen to All Eyez On Me," Carlos says.

"Illmatic is better."

"What the fuck is that?"

It's the classic and hugely influential debut album by Nas, in case you're rooming with Carlos and Patrick Star.

"Life's a bitch and then you die!" Ruben sings.

"That's why we get high! 'Cause you never know when you're gonna go!"

"Damn, Ant!" David says. "Who would have thought?"

It's unclear whether he recognizes "Life's a Bitch", Illmatic's track three stunner, or if he's simply surprised that I made a weed reference.

"What else are you bumping?" David asks.

"Wu-Tang. Souls of Mischief. Big L—"

"The Based God?" Carlos says. "He fucking sucks!"

"That's Lil B, dumbass."

Dude doesn't know Big L from Lil B and he's never heard Illmatic. And yet here he is, trying to lecture me about hip-hop. Get the fuck out of here.

"Whatever. You're fucking old," Carlos says.

Touché. But I'm trying to keep up. I'm certainly on the Playboi Carti and Lil Uzi Vert bandwagons. "wokeuplikethis*" and "XO Tour Lif3" are great. I have a hard time understanding the appeal of Migos though.

Carlos grabs some bags from the edge of the container. When he turns to dump them into the proper gaylords, I glance at the radio. It's beckoning like a glowing pickup in a video game. I can't resist. Being cool is overrated anyways.

I tune to Live 105.5. "Good For You" by Selena Gomez is playing.

"Hell yes!" I say.

My coworkers laugh.

"Of course you would listen to this bullshit!" Carlos says.

Bullshit? Ok, I get it. So it's totally cool to want to fuck Selena Gomez. It's totally cool to mime and graphically detail the sexual acts you'd perform on her if given the chance, as a few of the guys did a while back when a Spring Breakers DVD came through the warehouse. Respecting the art she creates, though? Nah. Too much.

"Wanna show you how proud I am to be yours," I sing. "Leave this dress a mess on the floor!"

Two yeas ago one of my favorite music writers, Katherine St. Asaph, wrote some brilliant work inspired by "Good for You". Her Singles Jukebox blurb, in which she rates the song a 9 out of 10, is a masterpiece. And in a review of Revival for Time Magazine, she vividly wrote that the song "makes looking good for her man sound like searing a part of herself dead." Despite such a convincing case for the song's merits, however, I can't bring myself to like "Good For You" all that much. It's boring and rote and I totally prefer "Hands to Myself". In a place like this, though, I'll fucking take it. After all, remaining myself while simultaneously playing "dude" well enough to avoid ostracization by my coworkers is a balance I struggle with every time I step foot into this warehouse, so it feels really good to fill the room with a piece of my world for once while these fuckers are forced to deal with it.

"I just wanna look good for ya, good for ya," I sing. "Uh huh."

"Alright," Carlos says as the song winds down. "It's over."

He tunes the radio back to hip-hop just as Anna screams "Break!"

"Fuck," Carlos says as he turns off the device. ***

As usual, I beat the entire crew back to the dock. I hop into the container, turn on the radio and adjust the station.

"Reck a less bee hayve YA ah!" the radio pronounces.

Zayn Malick! Totally over One Direction, rhyming.

"Turn that shit up!" Donald says as the guys finally find their way back to roll-off. "This is my jam!"

"Let's start a boy band, Donald!" I say.

"I'm down!"

David laughs. Carlos shakes his head.

"I'm seeing the pain, seeing the pleasure," Donald sings. He's not kidding; he genuinely seems to like this song. "Nobody but you, 'body but me, 'body but us, bodies together!"

While I'm thrilled to have a temporary companion in poptimism, I must point out that this song sucks. I wish I could play "Little Black Dress" instead. I wonder what the guys would think of that particular track, which pits a traditional dude's reverence for classic rock against his hatred of boy bands.

"That's your last one," Carlos says as "Pillowtalk" gives way to a commercial.

He tunes back to the hip-hop station. "Hold On, We're Going Home" is playing and I have to stifle a laugh. Be careful what you wish for, I think to myself.

Carlos can't stand Drake. He's told me as much. He's a fucking pussy were his exact words. Of course, he'd be loath to admit that now, when control of the radio is at stake. I decide to stoke the fire.

"'Cause you're a good girl and you know it!'" I sing.

"Why do you like literally the worst shit?" Carlos says.

"I can change the station if you prefer," I say as I reach for the radio.

"Leave it!" he says.

"Yes, daddy!"

As soon as he turns his back, I tune back to pop. Mass groaning ensues as Shawn Mendes goes on about stitches. Carlos, however, is silent. He's standing still as a statue, staring me down.

***

If the warehouse gave out game balls at the end of each shift, Carlos would have more than the rest of roll-off combined. This is despite the fact that the dude is hardly physically intimidating. Indeed, the contrast between his tough guy persona and his tiny 5"2' frame is a gift that keeps on giving. One time, in an exercise designed to lighten the mood after a slog of a safety meeting, management made the entire staff of the warehouse line up on the floor of the line, single-file, tallest on the right and shortest on the left. There were approximately 30 people in the building and only a single woman was standing to the left of Carlos. It took the roll-off team hours to get all the laughter out of our system.

Carlos isn't particularly funny or clever either. While his insults come fast and furiously, they tend to be the predictable nonsense you would expect from someone that still considers "gay" a burn in the year of our Lord 2017. It's the same sort of mockery I've been dealing with my whole life. The words themselves don't really bother me.

But Carlos will wear you down through sheer attrition. His short fuse, gangbanger ethics and the fact that he values his pride over his job give him a willingness to escalate that's difficult to compete with. I once witnessed him empty an entire can of shaving cream onto the face of poor old man Kenneth. He also once swung a bag of hard toys, with all his might, at Donald after the two got into a heated argument. Then there was the time he was in a bad mood and discreetly coated some furniture with that aerosol "snow" stuff—the kind that people use on their windows as a Christmas decoration—in the hopes that some naive rube would ruin their clothes.

So I'm not sure what Naive Rube was thinking in perpetuating this tug-of-war over a stupid radio. Perhaps I felt like I deserved a fucking break. Roll-off already has a radio, after all. Sure, Anna controls the station. But everyone seems fine enough, usually, with the soul and R&B she prefers.

In any case, I'm not in the mood for Carlos' shit today.

***

I place a box of books at the edge of the container, right in front of Carlos.

"Are you just gong to stand there?" I ask.

"Give back the radio, you fucking pussy!" Carlos says. "Nobody wants to hear this pop shit!"

I know, dumbass. That's why this is so much fun.

"Give it back!" he repeats. He swipes for the radio but I grab it and place it out of his reach.

Carlos slices a bag of clothes with his pocketknife.

"I'm going to fuck you up!" he says. "Stupid little bitch! I'm going to fuck you up!"

"Cool story, bro."

"Are you really not gong to give it back?"

I laugh. Look, this entire thing is petty as fuck but the dude's entitlement really is something else.

"Give it back simply because you told me to? I'll pass but thanks."

"I'm going to give you one last chance," he says.

"Oh noes! Make sure you play some Justin Bieber at my funeral."

Carlos is fucking seething. He pulls the still-as-a-statue move again in an attempt to intimidate but roll-off simply functions around him. Nobody else seems to care much about the radio war and that's fine by me. When Carlos finally realizes that his protest isn't going to work, he grabs the box of books and gets back to business. Apollo for the win!

As an alternative kid with a preference for dark clothing and bulky accessories, the sun has long been the bane of my existence. This is especially true as I age, as one of the ways I temper insecurities about my ever-expanding waistline is by burying myself in layers. Today, however, the sun is an unlikely ally in my ongoing struggle against Carlos. It's 100 degrees out, see, and when it's this hot outside the container becomes almost unbearable, the metal walls stubbornly retaining the heat in a way that feels like you're working in a giant oven.

Pushing donations from inside the container is typically a two-person task but nobody else is up for it today. And the emptier it becomes, the safer I seem to be getting from Carlos' antagonism as I place the radio further and further from his reach. For a glorious hour I have the device all to myself. Ariana Grande! Lady Gaga! Hailee Steinfeld! Rihanna! I'm singing along, dancing like a maniac, and feeling pretty damn good. Then I hear a loud crash.

I turn around. Carlos is standing at the foot of the container, a crate of dishes in front of him.

I've seen this before. God forbid there's glass around when Carlos is angry because he'll start chucking it, his aim loose enough for probable deniability but accurate enough to make life hell.

He grabs a plate and throws it my way. It shatters near my feet.

"Calm the fuck down!" I say.

"Give me the radio."

"Come and get it.

Carlos hops into the container. Fuck. Here we go.

Of course, he's not grabbing anything without going through me first. It's too damn empty in here. I step towards him to obstruct his path. We meet in the middle of the container. Our faces are inches apart.

One, Mississippi. Two, Mississippi. Three, Mississippi. Four, Mississippi. Five, Mississippi. Six—

"Fuck this gay ass music," he finally says. Then he turns and walks away. *** A short time later we finish unloading the container. Two hours remain in the workshift but supervisor Stella tells us that we won't be getting more trucks until tomorrow. She assigns the guys to other tasks in the building while I stay behind on the dock to tidy up.

For good measure, I empty the batteries from the radio and throw them in a bin designated for hazardous materials. Then I smash the radio on the floor, throw the pieces in the electronics gaylord, then pull it inside the warehouse.

Give me my damn game ball.

#minwagepop

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warriorsfireandwater · 5 years

Text

Chapter Eight

“So,” Crookedstar meowed. “Let me make sure I understand everything. You went back out to hunt again, alone, and decided to cross the bridge.” At Firepaw’s nod, he continued. “Then you saw ThunderClan chasing Mire—Yellowfang off their territory. She tried to attack you and demanded you let her into RiverClan territory. You fought for a moment, but stopped because she was exhausted. Then, you left an intruder on our border to hunt for her, bring her back prey, and feed her?”

“That's the gist of it,” Firepaw mumbled. “I—”

“I don't know what to do with you,” Crookedstar said, cutting him off. “First, apprentices are not to hunt or patrol on their own without clear permission. You may be new here, but you should know that. Even if that had escaped your attention, intruders are to be challenged, not fed. You wasted a piece of prey on a cat that you knew nothing about.”

Crookedstar paused, and Firepaw finally spoke again. “I couldn't just chase her off,” he meowed. “She was so… helpless. Even though she was acting as mean as a dog.”

Crookedstar twitched his tail. “Even considering this, Mirestorm… I mean, Yellowfang—she is a medicine cat. Medicine cats are entitled to certain… privileges, you could say. However, they certainly aren't supposed to attack lone apprentices, and her being on her own is suspicious…” he closed his eyes for a few moments.

Firepaw shuffled his paws. “Are you going to exile me?” he asked.

Crookedstar opened his eyes. “Great StarClan, no. You behaved very foolishly, Firepaw, and you will have some kind of punishment, you can be sure of that. But I won't be banishing you from the Clan for something like this.”

Firepaw let out a breath in relief.

Crookedstar sighed. “I won't be taking you out of training,” he said. “That wouldn't be helpful to you or your Clanmates. I'll think on this for a bit and speak to Dawnwhisker. You are dismissed.”

Firepaw nodded, his nerves returning as he rose and left the den. He won't exile me… but I'm definitely in trouble.

To his surprise, Beechpaw and Minkpaw were sitting outside the leader’s den. He considered Beechpaw a friend, but didn't spend much time with Minkpaw. The black she-cat twitched her tail curiously as he padded out. “Did he actually exile you? Silverpaw was certain he would.”

“No,” Firepaw meowed. “I'm in trouble, but he said I wasn't banished.”

“Obviously,” Beechpaw said, rolling his eyes. “That's just stupid.”

“What? I didn't say I wanted him to be,” Minkpaw retorted. “He's alright. Better company than Silverpaw, at least.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Firepaw meowed. “I couldn’t tell just how angry he was. He seemed pretty furious at first, but then he just said he’s ‘think a bit’ about my punishment.”

“I wouldn’t worry much,” Minkpaw said with a shrug. “Crookedstar’s a big old softie, honestly. Don’t get me wrong, he’s the best leader RiverClan could have, but he’s too nice to just go doling out punishments.”

Beechpaw nodded in agreement. “Oh, yeah. You won’t be in too much trouble, Firepaw. Maybe you’ll be cleaning ticks for a few days, but it won’t be too bad. Now I hear that in ShadowClan, they think up all sorts of awful punishments for their apprentices…”

The three apprentices jumped as Leopardfur padded by and stopped to meow, “That’s right. Be thankful Crookedstar is kinder to you all. Rainfoot told me that a troublemaking apprentice once had to clear out a fire ant nest on his own. Came back bitten up terribly.” She stared right at Firepaw, expression unreadable.

Firepaw gulped uneasily. I have a feeling that Leopardfur would have some kind of thing like that in mind if she was leader…

Though the deputy wasn’t cruel or even particularly unkind, she simply was cold. Not just to Firepaw, really, but to every cat. She spoke little and when she did, it was often to give criticism. A compliment was rare, as Firepaw had quickly learned, and he knew had a long way to go before he had even a whisker of approval from Leopardfur.

“That's just cruel,” Beechpaw muttered, seemingly unfazed. “No wonder ShadowClan cats are so grumpy. I would be too!”

There was the sound of pawsteps from behind Firepaw as Crookedstar emerged from his den. The apprentices all watched as he leaped on top of a flat stone that sat near his den and let out a yowl. “All cats old enough to fish gather here for a Clan meeting!”

“What's that about?” Minkpaw whispered.

“Likely the trespasser that Firepaw hunted for,” Leopardfur replied, a sharp edge to her tone. She padded past them to sit closest to Crookedstar.

“We can hear fine from here,” Beechpaw said. “Besides, I don't want to go sit by Leopardfur. She's in an odd mood.”

“She's always in a mood,” Minkpaw retorted.

Firepaw moved to sit beside Beechpaw. The rest of the Clan quickly gathered—it was sunhigh, so most cats were in camp resting. When Crookedstar seemed satisfied with the attendance, he sat, wrapping his tail around his paws. Firepaw blinked as he noticed Mudfur and Silverstream escorted a still-bedraggled Yellowfang from the medicine cat’s den. The three cats sat close to the stone as well.

“Cats of RiverClan, we have a visitor in our camp,” Crookedstar began. “Most of you should know of her. ShadowClan’s former medicine cat was found by Firepaw on the human bridge. I have spoken to both her and Firepaw about her appearance her. She wishes not to speak much on why she has left ShadowClan, but she attempted to seek refuge in ThunderClan, and they chased her from the territory.”

“Wait, she left ShadowClan?” Skyheart asked. “Why would a medicine cat abandon their Clan?”

“Are you daft?” Yellowfang sharply asked. “Or do you just not pay attention to the Clans you share borders with? Spending too much time sunning yourself these days?”

Reedtail stood and curled his lip. “Watch how you speak to us, rogue!”

Crookedstar flicked an ear. “Calm yourselves, please. Though I do wonder what you mean by that, Yellowfang, since you expressed the need for secrecy.”

Yellowfan lashed her tail. “Your comfortable lives behind the river have always cut you off from the going-ons of the other Clans,” she muttered.

“Speak plainly, crone, or be silent,” Blackclaw growled.

Yellowfang stared at him without speaking. Crookedstar sighed. “I will be speaking to you again after this meeting, in the chance that you have decided to share something else you know. Anyhow… Yellowfang claims that she is no longer in ShadowClan’s ranks. If she were a warrior, it would be appropriate to consider her a rogue, but given that she is a medicine cat, I believe it is in RiverClan’s best interests to allow her to stay with us, for a time.”

Leopardfur’s pelt seemed to bristle in the slightest. “Crookedstar, why?” she asked. “ShadowClan may be a desolate place, but they value their medicine cats as much as any other Clan. How can you accept her silence and trust that she isn’t a danger to our Clan?”

Yellowfang watched the deputy as she spoke, eyes narrowed. “Cast me out if you please,” she said, voice low and dangerous. “It is up to StarClan to judge you, not I.”

There were a few dubious mutters passed between Clanmates at these words. Firepaw wasn't sure what she meant by it, but he felt unsettled by the change in the mood of the Clan. “Why’s everyone worried now?” he whispered.

“Medicine cats are special,” Beechpaw murmured back. His tail was twitching nervously. “They have a connection to StarClan that average warriors don't. If we rejected a medicine cat in need of help… StarClan could curse us.”

“StarClan isn't cruel,” Minkpaw whispered. “But… they wouldn't look favorably on us for throwing her out, if she really does need help…”

Crookedstar shifted his paws. “If Yellowfang presents herself as a threat to our Clan, she will be dealt with accordingly. But medicine cats—regardless of Clan—are deserving of our respect. Perhaps she will even prove an asset to the Clan. That being said, we don't know her well enough to put unconditional faith in her. Yellowfang, until I decide otherwise, will be under guard at all times. Firepaw, as you found and already have taken it upon yourself to feed her, you will serve as her main caretaker.”

Firepaw blinked. What?

Crookedstar went on. “You will hunt for her and care for her as though she were any other elder or queen. You will train as usual when you are not attending to her, but should you have free time on your paws, it will be your duty to guard her.”

Firepaw flattened his ears, embarrassed, as a number of cats turned to stare at him. “Y-yes, Crookedstar.”

“Good. That will be all.” Crookedstar hopped down from the stone, and the Clan broke up to resume their business.

Silverpaw padded up to Firepaw and smirked. “Nice going, kittypet,” he sneered. “You might as well just become a medicine cat yourself.”

Firepaw growled and resisted the urge to unsheathe his claws. Before he could reply, Silverpaw continued on to the fresh-kill pile, tail swishing behind him.

“Maybe it won't be so bad,” Beechpaw meowed sympathetically. “It's just like looking after the elders, really.”

Except this one has the attitude of Blackclaw and smells like rubbish, Firepaw thought miserably. ‘Nice going’ is right.

#warrior cats #wc #warrior cats au #warrior cats rewrite #riverclan fireheart au #warriors: fire and water #chapter eight

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