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internalsealpanic · 3 years

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Explosive Chemistry

Summary: Chemistry labs can be a bit tedious. Nothing laser vision can’t fix though.

A/n: You can all blame @birdy-bat-writes for this fluff and @knightfall05x for the amazing mood board. This might feel a little rushed so apologies and Clark is kind of hard to write (ope). Anyway, here is your regularly scheduled comedy. Thanks again to @knightfall05x for proof reading!

warning: swearing, reader’s terrible moral compass, and some injury

masterlist

You met Clark- Well, ‘met’ might be too formal a word for what happened.

You discovered Clark during a mundane Metropolis afternoon. Taking a break from your studies (read: a group project that had not been going smoothly), you hopped on to a trail car to go to your favorite sandwich shop right across from your favorite diner.

The sandwich shop itself was nothing too special, not in a good way at least. It was even what your delicately paletted father had politely described as ‘subpar’ which as far as you knew was the worst insult he could give. Frank- the owner- was, of course, inclined to disagree. You were, on the other hand, inclined to agree with the opinion especially after biting into a raw piece of chicken in one of their “famous” chicken sandwiches. But it was cheap and it offered the best view of the diner across the street.

In truth, you liked the food at the diner better. Their blueberry pancakes were absolutely delightful, at least, on Mondays. But more than anything you found more delight in watching its contained chaos. You’ve watched people propose, get divorced, have fights, and everything else in between. The sheer absurd theatrics of it all captivated you. It was people-watching at its finest. Frank just thought it was creepy to which you simply nodded and nibbled at your sandwich.

As you watched the usual ensemble cast in the diner, you witness a tall, handsome guy with black hair and blue eyes get mugged. Ok, well, almost get mugged. He was a big boi so you weren’t entirely surprised when he was easily able to stop the scrawny knife-wielding assailant. What did surprise you were the proceeding events. To your utter disbelief (and amusement); instead of throwing the guy into the gutter as custom dictates, the buff guy just guided his assailant to the diner and had a chat with him. You chew your sandwich slowly as you watch them talk as if nothing strange had occurred minutes before, digesting the odd comedy unfolding before your eyes.

Moments later and a few tears shed, they parted ways. You frowned thinking that would be the end of it and you were about to whine to Frank about how anticlimactic that was. But then it just kept going.

He got mugged.

Again.

And again.

By the fourth time, Frank sat beside you to watch finally leaving the spot he was polishing alone. Repeated muggings were weird enough but the guy kept inviting them to talk. You choked every time but made no move to intervene, only nibbling at your sandwich and watching with near clinical interest.

After the fifth mugging, Frank raised a challenging brow at you as you continued to chew on your sandwich. You shrug at him as if to say ‘I’m eating what do you want me to do?’. Frank’s eyes didn’t leave you even as another mugger approached the buff guy. You cut him a look and chew a little faster. For a guy running what is most likely a money-laundering scheme, he sure was noble.

Having finally finished your sandwich, you wave your hand halfheartedly to Frank, your middle finger extended skyward. Kicking the shop door open and jamming your hands into your hoodie pockets, you made your way to the other side of the street ignoring the cars driving past you, blowing and whipping the skirt of your dress every which way.

Neither of them pays you any mind as you approach them, which was just as well. You shifted the strap of your backpack on your shoulder deciding whether to use it. Your laptop was in there so probably not. You decide to christen your new flattops by giving the man a good harsh kick in his nether regions. He goes down with a squeak.

“Scram!” You snarl, baring your teeth. In a surprisingly well-coordinated motion, he does, looking honestly scared for his life. You pivot to the guy who you assume is some kind of tourist.

Most people would say that Clark towered over you but the truth was that no matter how tall Clark was he couldn’t really measure up to the height of you. Nothing about you was inherently intimidating, especially as you stand before him in flat tops, hoodie, and short dress, except maybe for your shoulders. But that had less to do with their actual shape and more to do with how uncommonly broad they were compared to the rest of your body. Some people say it made you look like an angry dorito to which you unfailingly replied with something Clark would rather not repeat. At least, not in polite company.

You regard him with a pinched brow which makes Clark straighten as you openly assess him. You memorize the angles of his features, all the sharpness and corners of it not noticeable due to the softness of the way he carries himself in a typical hometown boy kind of way. You note your university’s logo on the edge of his sweatshirt.

You reach your hand out. “Y/n L/n but just call me Y/n”

“Clark Kent” He answers, shaking your hands. You note the distinct midwestern shape of his syllables which explained a lot.

“Yanno muggers aren’t exactly good speed dating partners, right?”

Clark smiled at the, admittedly, terrible joke. By the way, your eyes flash with interest, he’ll be seeing a lot of you.

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Your foot bounced erratically against the metal bar serving as your stool’s footrest. You watched the thermometer with a pinched face and a ticking brow as the mercury in it remains unmoving. Your mounting frustration amusing Clark making him cover his mouth. You fix him with a look and the door actually whistles “innocently” and looks away, pretending to be intently reading the procedure as if you two haven’t been reading it for the past half hour trying to figure out why your solution wasn’t boiling. His baby blues none-too-subtly flicking in your direction. You give him one last scathing look, which he easily glances off, before turning back to your solution. His eyes have been flickering at you as if he’s been meaning to ask you a question. That question likely being ‘could you possibly stop looking like you’re going to murder the molecules in our solution’. His eyes flicker again to watch you seethe and pout at the liquid and it takes everything in Clark not to tease you about being cute.

Bouncing your leg again, you gently turn the hot plate’s nob until the screen reads 1000 F. Clark makes a choked sound, finally tearing his attention away from what you assumed to be a particularly interesting semicolon. Clark reaches over and turns the damned thing back down to 300 F. You glare at him before, violently, turning it back up to 1000. Clark just as quickly turns it back down.

Click

You two continue on like this for a while ‘til your instructor, pinching his nose, strolls over to your lab bench to politely tell you to knock it off. With a shrug, you two settle on 650 F as your compromise. You, however, continue to glower at the solution while Clark peruses through the next lab distinctly reminding you of someone in the waiting room of a dentist’s office which makes you scrunch your nose and worsen the impatient ticking of your limbs. “Glaring at it won’t make it go faster,” Clark chuckled in his Midwestern sweater voice. You had the urge to pour the hot acid of the flask on to him but you suppressed the urge mainly because it wouldn’t actually hurt and pouring it on him meant starting over and that just sounded tragic.

You place your hands primly on your lap and spin your chair towards Clark. “Not all of us can watch grass grow, Paul Bunyan.” You snip. Clark shakes his head at you, whether it’s from your tone or the nickname you can’t tell. All you could discern was that it irritated him and some petty part of you was satiated the way old gods were when someone made an acceptable sacrifice.

“Is that what you think we do in Kansas?” Your first impulse is to say ‘yes’ even if it wasn’t the truth. You thought better of it though. Picking a fight with Clark Kent was a terrible idea, superstrength or not. You were, of course, familiar with Kansas as a concept the same way you were familiar with Mars. Both seemed equally distant, equally alien, and equally irrelevant as such you never dedicated too much thought to it. The last one might have changed a bit with your chance encounter with Clark. You remember him mentioning going home for Thanksgiving Break. You also distinctly remember wanting to ask if you could come along. After all, you didn’t have much in the way of killing time during holidays seeing as most of your relatives were overseas and the relatives you did have here were indisposed either due to work or due to other families. You felt silly thinking about it now and even sillier contemplating how you would explain the special brand of unpleasantness of being bored over the holidays. Maybe you should get a boyfriend- your eyes flicker to Clark but you shake your head- or a girlfriend or maybe friends who weren’t either foreign exchange students or farm boys from Kansas with laser vision.

You whip your head to Clark who was mumbling something about not staring at the grass. He frowns at you, not finishing his sentence.

“You have that look.”

“What look?”

“The bad idea look.”

“I do not”

“Ok, let me rephrase. The let’s do something stupid for science look.”

You huff indignantly. Clark looks unfazed and a little smug. You did not have that kind of look and sue, you’ve asked once or ten times to use his powers to do something ridiculous but this was a matter of importance.

“Use your heat vision”

“Wha-”

“Heat vision. Flask. Go faster.” You punctuate each word with a wild flick or gesticulation of your hands.

Clark moves his glasses up and pinches the bridge of his sharp nose.“We’re not going to use my heat vision-”

“-Yes, we are.”

“No, we aren’t. Do you want me to list the ways this could go wrong?”

“Relax, my human shield is invincible.”

“You’re horrible.”

“Yup.”

“I really can’t convince you?”

“Nope.”

“What if I just don’t?”

“Then I dip out and break into a different lab to get a bunsen burner.”

Clark laughs, shaking his head fondness seeping into his smile. It made your heart melt and your face heat. You know you’ve won when Clark moves his seat closer to you. For some reason, Clark always insisted on sitting just a little farther from you no matter the circumstance.

You two lean in. Clark gives you a side glance. “For the record, I said this was a bad idea.”

“Fine, I’ll quote you on that once I’ve won the Nobel Prize for Chemistry.”

Clark snorts. He removes his glasses, the blue of his eyes shifting to an angry red. It makes your breath hitch every time being reminded just how dangerous your sweet, gentle best friend really is.

You watch the liquid in the flask begin to boil and you make a noise of triumph, throwing your arms up in the air in delight. Clark smiles at you and you feel a little embarrassed by your reaction but the smile on your face doesn’t disappear. You both lean back and you toss him a smug smile. He huffs at you amused and rolls his eyes.

“Fine, not all of your ideas are-”

Crack.

Shatter.

Shards of glass fly everywhere as the flask shatters. You yelp high and surprised. Clark pulls you into his arms shielding you from the glass and hot acid. You hiss when a shard cuts against the delicate skin of your forehead. You’re numb as you feel the blood trickling staining Clark’s shirt. Your senses were more focused on the way he wraps his arms around you and how safe you feel despite the graze on your forehead.

“Y/n, Clark, are you two ok?”

You hear the frantic footsteps approach you but neither of you pulls away. You just focus on how tightly Clark holds you against himself. You feel the flex of his large muscles as he pulls you closer.

“We’re fine sir but I think Y/n needs to go to the clinic.”

Do you?

Your fingers rise up your forehead and your stomach drops a little when they come away red. You’re aware that you’re bleeding but it takes some time for the knowledge to fully sink in. Your professor is practically shoving you out of the room by the time you even make any move to react.

“Y/n, I-”

“I swear to god if you say I told you so I’ll punch you in the face-” You look into his eyes, your voice amazingly calm. He opens his mouth again. “- and if you say I’m sorry I’ll punch you in the dick.” His mouth closes and you both fall silent even as you go down the hall towards the university’s health office which was just a glorified clinic with the addition of counselors and a waiting room with Rubix cubes instead of magazines. Clark doesn’t loosen his grip on your shoulder even as you wait for the nurse to come out and treat you.

Your mind feels far less frantic than it did a few moments ago.

“I told you it was a bad idea.” Clark jokes offhandedly.

You snort at the remark and glare at him without any real venom. “You really aren’t as nice as people say you are.”

“Nope.”

“Jackass.”

This draws a tired laugh from him. “Well, I’m sorry. Why don’t I make it up to you then?”

“Unless you’ve got a Porsche in your back pocket”

He winces. You snort again.

“How bout coffee?” You blink at him. “Or maybe dinner? This Friday?” He adds with a hopeful lilt.

“Just as long as you don’t invite a mugger to come along.”

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THANKS FOR READING

taglist: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-horizon11, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell

#superman #superman x y/n #superman x reader #my writing #clark kent #clark kent x reader #superfam #kind of #in the future if I continue with this reader

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nevermindirah · 4 years

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Ok it's Jewish Booker o'clock, I can no longer stop myself, let's do this!

Why Jewish Booker? Dude was born in Marseilles in 1770, which happens to be a FASCINATING time and place in Jewish history, and it adds ridiculous layers to his character (without excusing a damn thing). Alternately just because I think he’s neat :)

Jewish Booker headcanons that make me happy:

not to be all "real Jews do X" but Jews fuck with candles hard. Book of Nile thrives on old/modern analog/digital giggles. Booker lighting Shabbat candles, lighting yarzeit (memorial) candles for his wife and sons (sob), lighting a menorah, lighting candles just because he's feeling emotional even though it's not chag (a holiday) or a yarzeit and Nile thinks he's trying to be sexy but he's really just in his feelings. just like. so many candles.

maybe Booker was the person who punched Richard Spencer at Trump's inauguration, just bringing back that time somebody punched a famous neonazi in the street and said neonazi has all but stopped appearing in public after a few rounds of public punching

were the Old Guard in Charlottesville in 2017? how many times has Booker the Blond Jew infiltrated North American white nationalist / Klan type activities and then stolen their weapons and/or killed them? likewise there's plenty of horrifying white nationalist shit happening across Europe this century, how many Pim Fortuyn types has he been involved in taking down? (I Am Of Course Not Endorsing Violence TM ;) ;) )

SINGING. Mattias Schoenaerts sings in Away From the Madding Crowd but it's church shit, sigh, anyway he has a nice voice. a lot of Jewish prayer is sung/chanted (depending on when/where you are and the gender rules of the community you're in) and there’s been a lot of innovation to Jewish singing in Booker’s lifetime, and I just want Nile to overhear him singing to himself on Friday afternoons

Nile Freeman was four years old when The Prince of Egypt came out, she grew up on that shit, she would want to introduce her new family to that shit. Please join me in picturing Booker, Nicky, Joe, and Andy all shouting "that's not how it happened!!" throughout this beautiful nightmare of a movie with lovely animation and songs but where white people voice most of the Egyptian and Jewish characters, because Booker Nicky and Joe's religious texts all frame the Exodus story a little differently and Andy was probably there when it happened (except for how it didn't actually happen it's an important story but it's just a story pls just let me giggle about Andy being super old)

Read below the cut for sad Jewish Booker headcanons, French Jewish history (mostly sad), context on antisemitism (enraging/sad), and all the way to the very end for a himbo joke.

Jewish Booker headcanons, I made myself sad edition:

he is a forger. who was alive. in 1939. visas. VISAS. V I S A S. how many of us did he save? how many more could he have saved if he didn't sleep that night? how heavily does that weigh?

how do we think he BECAME a forger? most likely he was doing what he needed to do to support his family, which gets extra poignant if he was also trying to help his people, forging documents as well as money even during his mortal life

Booker raised Catholic by crypto-Jews adds ANOTHER layer to the forgery thing, no shit he'd get good at falsifying paperwork and coming up with plausible cover stories

do we know how Booker made it back home after his first death in 1812? his route between the Russian Empire and Provence in 1812 would've been a patchwork of laws about Jews, in case starvation and frostbite weren't enough for him to have to deal with, he's blond and could maybe get away with pretending not to be Jewish if he had to, alternately maybe synagogues and yeshivot took him in on his way home

the structural and sometimes-interpersonal dynamics of antisemitism cause many individual Jews to experience feelings of teetering on the fence between a valued member of a not-exclusively-Jewish community and a scapegoat/outcast/problem. HOLY SHIT BOOKER. "what do you know of all these years alone" is the most Jewish loneliness-in-a-crowd shit I've ever heard. fear that we're not wanted, or only wanted so long as we're useful — that's something that basically all people struggle with under capitalism, but it's especially poignant for many Jews because of the particular way antisemitism operates. (NOTE this can tip from a legit Jewish Booker reading to woobification of the sad white man who couldn't possibly be held responsible for his own actions because he's so sad, which, NOPE. it's very understandable for him to feel left out and misunderstood and not as wanted, as the youngest and not part of an immortal couple and maybe Jewish, but NONE OF THIS excuses his betrayal.)

Crusaders murdered a lot of Jews on their way to the ~holy land~. how many of Booker's people did Nicky kill on his way to kill Joe's people? has Booker ever actually talked to either of them about it?

I read this really beautiful fic about Joe needing to circumcise himself after getting run over by a cart (ouch) — this is a hell of a thing for Joe and Booker to have in common

just generally Jewish Booker adds more layers to him and Joe so clearly being such close friends, ugh that look Joe gives him when they're leaving the bar at the end of the movie, and I very much do not mean this in a gross Arab-Israeli-conflict way because Joe is Amazigh not Arab and Booker is Jewish not Israeli (and also a lot of Jews are Arabs) (but most importantly there's no ~eternal conflict~ between Muslims and Jews) (more about OP Is Not A Zionist below)

like, the UK and France (and to a certain extent Italy) carved up the former Ottoman Empire after WWI; among other things, the UK took Palestine, and they could've worked on eradicating European antisemitism so Jews wouldn't have to leave but instead they used their control of Palestine to encourage Zionist emigration of Jews out of Europe, and France took what is now Iraq, which has some pretty direct implications for US military involvement in that country in Nile's lifetime; France colonized Tunisia in the late 19th century and still held it during the Vichy era which means Tunisian Jews were subject to Nazi anti-Jewish laws which is just layers upon layers of colonial racist Islamophobic and antisemitic nightmares for Joe and Booker to live through

to be crystal clear before anybody gets ooh Muslim-Jewish conflict up in here, antisemitism is an invention of European Christians that they imported to the places they colonized, the European colonial powers encouraged Zionism because it was easier for them to encourage Jews to leave Europe and set us up as middle agents between the colonial powers and the ~scary brown people~, the Ottoman Empire and other Muslim governments historically have had a second-class citizenship category for non-Muslims that rankles my American first amendment freedom of religion sensibility but was very much not targeting Jews specifically, and these two men who've lived for a long-ass time through many varieties of geopolitical awfulness (and alongside a certain unwashed Crusader who has since learned his lesson) would have Things To Say about how our current mainstream discourses frame these things

getting off my soapbox and back to this action movie I'm trying to talk about, the ANGST of Booker's exile, which is simultaneously a very valid decision for Andy Joe and Nicky to make, an extremely long time for Nile who is only 26 years old to be separated from the one person on the planet in a position to really understand the crisis she's going through, and holy shit expelling a Jew from your group when he's already been expelled from mortality and his family and being expelled from places and continually having to start over somewhere new is THE curse of surviving through antisemitism, OUCH MY FEELINGS

Some French Jewish history:

France, like basically all of Europe, periodically expelled its Jews, but Provence (where Marseilles is) wasn't legally part of France during the expulsions up through 1398 so Provence had a continuous active Jewish community; about 3,000 Iberian Jewish refugees ended up in Provence after the expulsions from Spain and Portugal in the 1490s

the 1498 expulsion of French Jews DID apply to Provence but many "converted" to Christianity and reestablished a Jewish community when enforcement of the expulsion chilled out (which was in the government's interest because they were really into taxing Jews at higher rates, so much so that they taxed "new Christians" at higher rates once they realized expelling Jews meant they wouldn't be around to overtax, ffs) — by the mid-18th century Provence had notable communities of Jews and crypto-Jews (forced converts and their descendants who still kept some Jewish practices in secret)

Booker would've been 21 when revolutionary France granted equal legal rights to Jews in 1791 — his mortal life and first century of immortality happens to line up almost perfectly with the timeline of legal emancipation of Jews across Europe

the American and French Revolutions happened pretty much concurrently and took different approaches to religious freedom that make Book of Nile with Jewish Booker and canon Christian Nile extra interesting — French emancipation, at least from my American sensibility, is about secularism and religion not "interfering" (hence French Islamophobic shittiness about banning hijabs), whereas American religious freedom is more of "the government can't stop me from trying to evangelize / religiously harass people at my school/workplace/etc" — to be clear I think both countries' approaches to religious "freedom" are hegemonic as shit and have devastating flaws, but they're different models that emerged at the same time in Booker's youth and Christianity is clearly a source of emotional support for Nile and there's so much to explore here

Napoleon tried to ~liberate~ the Jews of places he conquered for his dumbass French Empire, but liberation from ghettos came with strings attached (like banning us from some of the only jobs we'd been legally allowed to have for centuries, and liberating us for the stated purpose of getting us to assimilate and stop being Jews) and many places that were briefly part of the French Empire reinstated their antisemitic laws after Napoleon was gone, can you imagine being a French Jew forced to fight and die in Russian winter for that jackass and then have to trudge back through a dozen countries whose antisemitism was all riled up by French interference?

Some facts about antisemitism:

antisemitism operates differently than many other oppressions, it doesn't economically oppress the target group in the same way as antiblackness or misogyny or ableism etc — the purpose of antisemitism is to create a scapegoat to blame when European peasants are mad at the king / the church / the people actually in charge, and structural antisemitism encourages a system where some Jews become visibly successful so that those individuals and our whole community are easier to make into scapegoats

one of the historical roots of antisemitism is stuff in the Christian Bible about moneylending as sinful — Jews in medieval Europe were often barred from owning land and Christians barred from moneylending, so some Jews found work in finance and some of us became very visibly successful for working with money — a few individual Jews running a particular bank or finding success as jewelry dealers turns into "Jews control global financial systems" scapegoating — a more recent example of this is the participation of nonblack Jews in white flight and the role of Jewish landlords doing the visible dirty work of non-Jewish institutions in American antiblack housing discrimination, Nile grew up on the South Side of Chicago and would have seen some shit along these lines and might repeat hurtful ideas out of a lack of knowledge, here's Ta Nahesi Coates on some of these dynamics

Booker canonically being a forger (specifically of coins in the comics?) needs a little extra care to avoid antisemitic tropes about Jews and money, I will happily answer good-faith asks about this if you want to check on something for a fic/etc

antisemitism in the United States where I live in October 2020 isn't institutional in the sense of targeting Jews for police violence or anything like that. it IS systemic, however, for example in all the antisemitic conspiracy theories the Trump administration and several other Republicans peddle (ie QAnon), and in how the Trump administration points to support for Israel as if that means support for Jews (it doesn't, it's evangelical Christians who push the US government to support the Israeli government because they think Jews need to be in the ~holy land~ for Jesus to come back that's literally why the United States funds Israel at the level it does). antisemitism also gets weaponized to encourage white Jews (those of us of European descent, who in the United States are definitely white because the foundation of US racism is slavery and antiblackness as well as anti-indigenous genocide, maybe European Jews aren't included in whiteness everywhere but we definitely are where I live) to side with white supremacy instead of building solidarity with other marginalized people (ie a lot of mainstream Jewish groups shit on the Movement for Black Lives because of its solidarity with Palestinians)

the Nation of Islam has a major presence in Chicago and its leader Louis Farrakhan who lives in Chicago has long spread a variety of antisemitic as well as homophobic bullshit but there are genuine good reasons many Black people find meaning/support in the Nation of Islam and Nile would've grown up with that mess in the air around her, this is a good take from a Black Jew about the nuance of all that

the way the Old Guard comics draw Yusuf al Kaysani is HOLY SHIT ANTISEMITISM BATMAN I hate it please summarize the comics for me because I DO NOT WANT to look at that unnecessarily caricatured nose why the fuck did they do that human noses are beautiful there is absolutely no need to draw Joe like a Nazi would

Jews for Racial and Economic Justice is a local NYC group that recently developed a fantastic resource for understanding and fighting antisemitism (pdf) 11/10 strongly recommend

Zionism disclaimer: A lot of Jews feel strongly that we need a Jewish-majority country in order to be safe from antisemitism. I strongly disagree with this idea on its merits (Jews disagree about who is a Jew and making Jewish status a government/immigration matter means some of us are going to get left out; also non-Jews aren't fundamentally dangerous and separatism isn't going to end antisemitism) but I have a lot of empathy for the very valid fear that leads a lot of my people to Zionism. Whether I want a Jewish-majority country or not, what Israel has done and continues to do to Palestinians is a deal breaker. Emotions run very high on this subject — I spend a lot of my not-Tumblr life talking to other Jews about Zionism and I'd rather not have this Jewish Booker headcanons post become yet another place where fellow Jews yell at me in bad faith. Block me if you need to, you're not going to change my mind. Call me self-hating if you want, I know I love us.

Racism in fandom disclaimer: I feel weird about increasing the volume of meta about Booker in this fandom. Nile Freeman is the main character and deserves lots of attention and adoration from the fandom — and she deserves emotional support from as many friends and orgasms from as many partners as she wants. I think Jewish Booker makes her friendship and potential romantic relationship with him even more interesting, hence this post. Ship what you ship, but be aware of the racist impact of focusing your fandom activity on, for example, shipping two white men while ignoring awesome characters of color especially the canon man of color one of those white dudes has already been with for a millennium. Please and thanks don't use my post for shenanigans like sidelining Joe so you can ship Booker with Nicky.

Oh and a non-disclaimer fun fact, Matthias Schoenaerts was born in Antwerp which apparently has one of the largest Jewish communities still remaining in Europe?? ~Jewish Booker headcanons intensify~

In conclusion: Jewish Booker! Just because it's fun! It exponentially increases the angst of his mortal lifetime and it puts his first century of immortality smack in the middle of the most intense changes to Jewish life since the fall of the Second Temple (aforementioned emancipation, also founding of Reform Judaism, the Haskalah, Zionism, and then of course the Holocaust). It makes his relationships with Nile, Joe, and Nicky more interesting and potentially angstier and with more intense commonalities and tenderness about their differences. It's very common for Jews to not believe in God (this confuses the shit out of a lot of Christians) and this would probably have further endeared him to Andy.

One more thing: Booker as golem. (A golem is basically an earthenware robot of Jewish folklore.) He's tall and blond and the most Steve Rogers-looking of all of them and from the Himbeaux region of France. THE trope of Book of Nile is he will do WHATEVER Nile wants or needs him to do. I was today years old when I learned that Modern Hebrew speakers use golem figuratively to mean "mindless lunk" and I'm choosing to squint and read that as "hot kind and dumb as rocks" because it amuses me.

#sebastien le livre #tog meta #jewish booker #book of nile #i couldn't stop myself #antisemitism #genocide cw #antiblackness #european imperialism #us imperialism #antizionism #hi i'm an antizionist jew no i don't really wanna talk about it #except i just did #jewish things #jewish history #tog #mine

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gale-gentlepenguin · 3 years

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Gale’s Top 10: Favorite Pokémon

Rules:

1. No mega evolutions/gigamax alone. I have to like the Pokemon outside of just those bits.

2. Regional versions are covered if they make the list.

3. These pokémon are not Meta, they are my personal favorites.

4. This is simply my favorites. I would love to hear yours.

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10. Volcarona

This thing just looks really f***ing cool.

The Fire bug typing.

The mothera reference. The insane special attack.

Stupidly fun to use when playing.

Volcarona is Alder’s ace for a reason. And if you don't kill it quick. You will be begging for your life by turn 3.

When ever I get the chance. It always has a spot on my Unova team. No question about it.

_______________________________________________________________________

9. Guzzlord

The Ultra beast with the code name Glutton.

I will say that gen 7 was... interesting in its approach towards Pokémon. I honestly didn't care much for the designs (outside of the Alola forms). The Generation did have a few cool things going for it, but I found most of the line up to be kind of boring.

UNTIL THIS MOTHERF***ER SHOWED UP.

This Dark Dragon type Pokemon just looks so ... monstrous. In the Ultrasun and Moon games, The pocket of space where you find it is a decimated city with nothing in it but it, waiting for something to eat. This thing destroyed its world, likely ate every person and Pokemon. Its downright terrifying. It looks like a boss monster or the final form of a JRPG boss. (Plus his appearance actually made me watch the anime for a brief moment, so kudos)

And it hits like a truck. Sure fairy type attacks grind it to dust. But outside of that, I can just RELATE to this thing. Being unable to fill its stomach and wanting to eat all the time.

But the reason he is so low is that... you can't really use him until late game and in a sea of other ultra beasts, his impact is minimized

_______________________________________________________________________

8. Electivire

I just love this Thunder Yeti.

One of my favorite build on evolutions. The means of getting him are a bit hard, (having a special item to trade with just to do it) but the benefits are vast. He is fast and his ability neutralizes electric attacks, allowing him to go even faster.

His movepool allows him to use fire, ice, ground, rock, steel and even Psychic attacks.

He can even learn a move that lets him get rid of his ONE TYPE WEAKNESS.

Regardless of what side of the fight he is on, Electivire is one tough customer.

_______________________________________________________________________

7.Arcanine

He is a big fluffy boi!

ITS A DOG THAT BREATHES FIRE AND IS BIG ENOUGH TO BE RIDDEN!

My 10 year old self DREAMED about having one. It has soft fur and is loyal. It also is mega versatile. It can learn dragon type, electric type, ground and even grass type moves. It also just looks so cool. I wish we got to see it more commonly used, but sadly it is always outshines by ANOTHER fire type of the gen and that is sadly that.

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6. Rayquaza

Its a giant green dragon that looks like Shenron and has the best mega evolution. He is also my favorite Legendary. Sorry all other Legendaries. not even Arceus or Mewtwo could touch this beast at his best.

It is majestic, and I have played through emerald version MORE times than any other Pokemon game ever.

So let me tell you about how monstrous this thing is. Its mega evolution was banned BECAUSE IT WAS SO RIDICULOUSLY OP and it is the reason why Mega evolution is no longer allowed because Z moves couldn't counter this thing.

It always is cool. And THIS is what a dragon is.

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5. Empoleon

This might have been shocking to see him so low on the list. Only barely making the top 5.

His design is one of my favorites. And his evolutionary line is my favorite LOOKING of all starters.

Its just... I always keep forgetting he is steel type and when someone uses a ground or fighting move he gets rekt. Now this is more on me and not on the grace that is empoleon.

I also wish this Pokemon got more love. It was overshadowed in the anime, its constantly ignored by most when talking about Sinnoh, and it has a diverse move pool.

I just wish it was either more of a tank or more of a fast sweeper.

I want to love him more, but battling is kind of important to me and I just feel on edge using him.

______________________________________________________________________

4. Hawlucha

My favorite Gen 6 pokemon.

Bar none. This wrestling bird is just so cool. It has THE best Shiny colors. It is based of a luchadore. It has its own special move, Flying Press. And it hits like a truck.

He has great versatility, he also is just fun to look at. And the Pokemon anime gave me a new appreciation for this bird. If he was a penguin, he would be number one.

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3. Lucario

Okay I admit it, Lucario is my more obvious pick. BUT COME ON!

It is one of the coolest Pokemon ever created!

It is fast and strong. It has Aura Sphere (one of my favorite moves in the game)

He was also my main in smash before Ultimate came out and nerfed him.

He was my boy. He also has one of the better Pokémon movies made about him and he deserves it.

Also you know a trainer is a bada*** when he/she has one on her team. Its like a status symbol.

And with the coverage he has, its no wonder he is so well loved.

Plus his design is amazing, his shiny is one of the coolest designs, and he looks like a good boy.

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2. Raichu

HE IS SHAPED LIKE A FRIEND!

okay so I always liked the Raichu line, but I always felt Pikachu was overrated.

I still love the electric mouse, but I always evolved him.

When Gen 7 happened and THIS form of Raichu happened. I fell in love. Look at this Electric Psychic typing. And the answer to evolve or not was put to rest forever.

Having access to Thunderbolt, surf, psychic and an assortment of other moves. I just love how amazing it is to use. He also looks so cute and cuddly. This is the ideal Pokemon design, you may not agree, but this is what perfection looks like.

Plus, his tail is a surfboard. Your argument is invalid.

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1. Feraligatr

Let me tell you all a story.

My first Pokemon game that I ever played by myself was Pokémon silver.

My first starter was Totodile.

I started my journey with this little gator and every step of the way, whenever I was backed into a corner, this guy came through for me. I called him Gatorhawk. Because he had the little red tuft that I thought was a mohawk.

I remember playing the game in the car on my way home, doing my best against Lance and his three dragonites. The rest of my team was down. Only Gatorhawk remained as I faced his 3 remaining Pokemon. Surviving attack after attack. Yet somehow finishing off his dragonites.

I got down to his last Pokemon, Out of healing items, and up against charizard.

My Gatorhawk was in the yellow. I was so close. All I needed to do was survive that Charizard’s attack.

It fired a hyper beam. I thought it was over. All of the hardwork I had gone up to this point, it was for nothing.

But Gator tanked it. By some logic He tanked a hyper beam with only one HP left.

And he hit with a critical Surf. It was over. We had won.

I screamed so loud my mom thought something bad had happened.

I was a pokemon champion. I had beaten Lance. No older cousin help, no sister assistance. it was just me, and my Gatorhawk.

So when I see Feraligatr. I think of Pokémon, I remember the nostolgia, the good times.

I remember what it meant to be the best.

#Pokémon #pokemon #gale's top 10 #Gale's top ten #man I love pokémon

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prophet-of-booba-lady · 3 years

Note

Hi again! I was hoping I could get a fandom life matchup for Legend of Korra!

I’m a trans (mtf) lesbian. 22. Grad student studying policy and public administration (specifically in higher education). Masters student right now, though I’ll be starting my PhD in the spring. My goal is to one day become a professor and teach a class on ethics in academia (regarding instruction of marginalized groups, teaching on stolen land, sexual misconduct in academia between students and the problems of professor-student relationships, and academic misconduct). I’d also like to teach a course on anarchism (as I’m an anarchist), but I’m not planning on studying political theory so that’s probably out of reach.

I really enjoy music, and play several instruments: violin, orchestral percussion, piano, guitar, bass guitar, harmonica, and drums (all except the first two being self taught). I also sing. My favorite genres of music are jazz, classical, and kpop (though I occasionally go through phases of really loving rock, punk, and folk). I have a natural gift for picking up songs by ear, and most instruments come naturally to me with a bit of time (except banjo. I cannot seem to master it, which is a shame because I love banjo music).

Others hobbies: I used to work at a coffee shop, and loved my time there, since I find making drinks for others calming (also enjoy bar tending for parties when my friends ask me to). I know a good bit about plants, having started out as a plant biology major. I play disc golf a lot in my free time. I also watch a lot of tv, mostly comedy/slice of life anime.

In terms of personality, I try to be very friendly toward new people, especially toward younger people, who I try to help out however I can (I always wanted to be an older sibling/cousin, but never got the chance). However, when I’m in a new situation/meeting new people, I’ve been told I can be a little intimidating (especially if it’s a more formal occasion like an organizational meeting) but it’s just because I care about things getting done right, and I also just have resting bitch face unless I’m really comfortable. Once I am comfortable, however, I’m super chill. I make a bunch of bad puns when I’m with friends, (especially after a few drinks). And, I am fiercely loyal, having gotten into more than a few scrapes in high school over people picking on my younger friends.

My biggest pet peeves are people not cleaning up after themselves/doing the bare minimum while cleaning, and forgetting important things consistently.

Id absolutely love it if you could include my musical talents into it. (And also maybe what type of bender I’d be: if you think i would be one).

Thanks again for all the work you out into this!!!

You're an earth bender idk what to tell you. You have earth bender vibes. You probably metal bend or lava bend as well.

S/O: Opal Beifong

Best Friend: Korra

Enemy: Kuvira (we don't appreciate dictators in this household)

You probably grew up in the inner walls of Ba Sing Se. You attend the university there and work to pay of school debts in none other than the Jasmine Dragon Tea House. You meet Korra through Bolin and Mako as you do help with activist work in the outer walls and know their family very well. You are brought into team avatar while Korra is searching for the new airbenders, it's how you meet Kuvira and Opal. At this time you probably do not appreciate Kuvira or opal do to your anarchism, but when you find out that Opal also doesn't appreciate the government and the only reason she likes the city she lives in is because her family runs it. She can and will combine her mom to make you a teacher for young adults. You aren't like a teacher teacher required five days if teaching, you have pop up lessons that anyone can attend and learn. You enjoy living in this city with opal but when she leaves you leave. Opal and your relationship really strengthen your relationship with team avatar. Korra and you were OP before but now you two have a Beifong Airbender to help?? You guys could be unstoppable if you wanted. The Beifong's love you and when Kuvira tries to become a dictator you help free the Beifong family. This really solidifies your relationship with opal. However by this time you and Korra obviously had some problems due to her disappearing but you get it. You understand, you just wish she could have told you before hand. You don't directly fight Kuvira ever, however whenever you meet face to face she and yours re far more hostile than her and anyone else. You just hate dictators and you make it known that you hate her. Even after she's defeated/saved by Korra. Yes Korra tries to convince you that they are almost exactly the same but you know that there is a difference between a mentally damaged hero and a mentally damaged Dictator.

I imagine you and Bolin are close friends as well because he is just a good boy... A stupid good boy... The man need your guidance. You and Opal are the couple that Korra sees as the perfect couple" and is the reason she starts chasing her own happiness with Asami.

I hope you liked this!

- The Prophet

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jupiaria · 3 years

Text

Jack Parsons' Freedom is a Two-Edged Sword

Chapter Four

The Woman Girt With the Sword

It is to you woman, beautiful redeemer of the race, whom I address this chapter. That which stirs in you now is not madness, not sin, not folly – but Life! This new life is the joy and the fire that will beget a new race; create a new heaven and new earth. When you were a child, did not the wind and the sun speak to you? Did you not hear the mountain’s voice; the voice of the river and of the storm? Have you not heard the whisper of the stars and the ineffable voice in silence? Have you not gone naked in the forest with the wind on your body and felt the caress of Pan? Your heart has swollen with Spring, blossomed with Summer and saddened with Winter. These things are the covenant and in them is the truth that is forever.

You have sought companions as high-hearted as yourself and found them not save in the elusive memories of dream and song. For you found a blight over the world; a blight of silence and sorrow. Your companions walked in guilt and shame, in fear, in hate, in sin and in the sorrow of sin. There was only nervous laughter and furtive pleasure; unsatisfying and shameful – But be no longer sad, my beloved. Be joyous and unafraid for within you is the song that shall shatter the silence, the flame that will burn away the dross.

It is you who are the redeemer from sing and sorrow, from guilt and shame. WOMAN; oh splendour incarnate! How long have you served in chains, a slave to the lust and guilt of pigs? How long have you writhed under the degradation of your Holy Name, “Whore”, or suffered silently under the degradation called, “virtue”? How well you have known the stake, the rack, the whip, the chains of imprisonment and even entombment in the service of your master.

And was the bond fear, was it weakness, was it cowardice and inferiority? Oh shame of man, it was none of these; it was love. A man was once crucified in a redemption that failed, yet if ten times ten million men were crucified, this infamy could not be redeemed. Husband, father, priest, jailer, judge, executioner, exploiter, seducer, destroyer – so has your lover mastered and defiled you. Yet pity him for he sought love… But finally there is an end and then the beginning and all the future will be with you. For you are the mother of a new race, the redeemer and lover of the new men; the men who shall be free.

I shall speak to you of men. Men desire three things of a woman: a mother greater than themselves, a wife less than themselves and a lover equal with themselves. Against the mother they are in revolt, the wife they hold in contempt and the lover ever eludes them. Consider the husband; how he throws his clothes about, eschews dirty dishes and housework and asserts himself in a loud voice. Consider the homosexual; how he hates woman and flees himself, fearing that he will slay her. Consider the great lover; how he grasps for love and his hands close on nothingness. These are bewildered, frightened children playing games against the dark. And those who wear brass and swords, who strut and slay, are they not the most frightened of all? Therefore pity them and forgive them.

In the ancient world there were men for a season, before cities arose and they turned to gilded popinjays, gracefully accepting futility. Then came Christianity, an anodyne for slaves, an enteric for barbarians whose deeds gave them indigestion – and ultimately, a whip for slave masters.

Faust was the prototype of the Middle Ages, but not the Faustus of whom Kit Marlowe tells. It was a darker Faust; Gilles de Rais, who betrays the Maid in his lust for power, then, after his fall and the failure of his prayers, he descends to horror in his cellars. This theme lasted an age until man, appalled by his nightmares, turned finally to a dream of liberty.

It is the voice of Voltaire, jaded, cynical, weary of folly, that sounds the opening bar of a tremendous, mocking prelude. Tom Paine, one real man, broken and at last betrayed by all the wooden champions, Cagliostro, plotting the revenge of the Templars with a woman and a necklace, Will Blake, speaking uncomprehended with the tongue of angels, Shelley and his beautiful gesture; Swinburne, who almost recreated Helas before he too was broken – Byron, Pushkin, Gautier; all instruments in a prelude to a symphony that was never played. And Science – how it was to save us! That “Brave New World” of Huxley, Darwin and H.G. Wells with only the voice of Spengler in dissent.

Science remaking the world; an international language, a universal brotherhood beyond nationality, prejudice or creed… A beautiful vision fallen like a house of cards. You creators of the “New Age” who dare not speak, think or move without permission from the military, you unfettered titans who will hang for speaking across one border – where is your ‘New World’? Champions, where is freedom? What treasure have we lost? We must turn to women for that answer.

The key lies back ten thousand years ago in the Age of Isis that is mistakenly called “The Matriarchy”. It was not a Matriarchy as we conceive it; a rule of club-women, of frustrated chickens, in fact it was not a rule at all; it was an equality.

The Woman was and is the Priestess. In Her reposes the Mystery. She is the Mother, brooding yet tender, the lover, at once passionate and aloof, the wife, revered and cherished. She is the witch woman. She stands co-equal with her mate who is the chieftain, the hunter, the thinker and the doer. The woman is the Priestess, guardian of the mystery, syble of the unconscious and prophetess of dreams. Together they balanced each other until the catastrophe of the Patriarchal Age, arch-typified by the monosexual monster, Jehova.

Then, under the rule of Priests, woman became an inferior animal while man became isolated in his imagined superiority and found himself at the mercy of his own merciless intelligence. It was total war between the emotions that must and the intellect that will not. Every patriarchal religion is a self-contradictory monstrosity. They are dogmatic creeds that shift like straws in the wind of the intellect. Upon this shifting structure man has failed. He knows the futility of such artificial systems but he fights for them with all the sick fury his frustration can generate. In the process he has lost his mother, his wife has failed him and his lover eludes him. The Mystery has gone out of the Temple, banished by a senile and self-sufficient council of beards.

Woman, Woman – where are you? Come back to us again. Forgive even if you cannot forget and serve once more in our Temples. Take us by the hand. Kiss us on the lips and tell us we are not alone. Witch-Woman, out of the ashes of the stake, rise again! It was in the Dianic Cult that the old way continued. Those splendid and terrible women; Messilina, Toffana, La Voisin and DeBrinvillies raised revenge to a high art. Others sought the forbidden mystery in secret rites and purchased a brief reunion at an awful price. This was the ope in the Maid of Orleans, the dream of hopeless millions that the woman who was to redeem them had come at last. Her failure and her fate teach us that innocence is no protection. Be cunning, oh woman, be wise, be subtle, be merciless. I have asked you to understand and forgive – but forget not overmuch. Trust nothing but yourself.

Now I have spoken of those great poisoners but there is a worse revenge. Know that all revenge is revenge on self and the most terrible is that taken by the frigid woman. Count her in the tens of millions. The curse lies in the failure of her mate to be a man and her failure to be true to herself but the cause is the dark guilt with which parents poison their children. There is also suppressed incestuous love and the fear of unwanted children – yet those who have known of these things should have no shame there-from. Strength is not born, it is gained by understanding and overcoming. Go free; sing the old, wild song:

EVOE IO, EVOE IACCHUS IO PAN, PAN! EVOE BABALON!

Go to the mountains and the forest; go naked in the Summer that you may regain the old joy. Love gladly and freely under the stars. But you say your body is not beautiful? Here is a secret: the body is molded by the mind. If you have embraced fear, repression, hate – then you may find your body repulsive. But go free, love joyously and without restraint. Run naked then watch the cheeks flush, the breasts well and the supple contours develop from the flowing rhythms of life. Disease and deformity are bred in fear and hate, therefore be fearless lovers and ever beautiful.

The woman is the Priestess of the Irrational World! Irrational - but how enormously important, and how dangerous because it is unadmitted or denied, we do not want to be drunken, murderous, frustrated, poverty-stricken and miserable without cause. These conditions are not reasonable or 'scientific’ and yet they do exist. We say we do not want war but war seems a psychological necessity. Wars will continue until that need is otherwise fulfilled. We do not love or hate a person because it is “reasonable”. We are moved willy-nilly, despite our reason and our will, by forces from the unconscious, irrational world. These forces speak to us in dreams, in symbols and in our own incomprehensible actions. These passions can only be redeemed by intuitive understanding in the feminine province. Only after such understanding can will and intelligence be truly effective for otherwise they are blind and powerless against the tides of emotion.

Somewhere in the world today there is a woman for whom the Sword is forged. Somewhere there is one who has heard the trumpets of the New Age and who will respond. She will respond, this new woman, to the high clamor of those sar-trumpets; she will come as a perilous flame and a devious song, a voice in the judgment halls, a banner before armies. She will come girt with the Sword of Freedom. Before her, kings and priests will tremble, cities and empires will fall, and she will be called BABALON, The Scarlet Woman.

She will be lustful and proud, subtle and deadly forthright and invincible as a naked blade. Women will respond to her war cry, throwing off their chains, men will respond to her challenge, forsaking foolish ways. She will shine as the ruddy Evening Star in the lurid sunset of Gotterdamerung. She will shine again as a Morning Star when the night has passed and a new dawn breaks over the garden of Pan.

To you, oh unknown woman, is The Sword of Freedom pledged.

#jack parsons #thelema #babalon #pan #freedom is a two edged sword #the woman girt with the sword #woman

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shortythescreen · 4 years

Text

come over chapter 3: the party.

Warning(s): Dysfunctional family dynamics, Octavio’s parents being assholes, misuse of stim, kind of abrupt ending, fem reader, NSFT/18+.

Relationship(s): Octane/ Female Reader.

Author’s Notes: Last chapter you guys! Thank you so much for sticking with me through this. I’ve had so much fun writing come over and hope to write for Octane again soon <3

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3.

The rest of your ride to Psamathe is smooth. You and Octavio sip at that Aguardiente but about a half an hour before you two are due to arrive, you make him put it away. He protests, trying to tell you that in order to deal with his parents, you were going to need to be at least kind of buzzed. You two stash the drink anyway, drinking water all the way over, and Octavio eyes you up in the silence that follows.

Octavio probably could’ve given you head right after you finished with him but you were insistent about not looking sex ruffled – which would be a lot harder to hide with your hair fucked up, and that dress you’re wearing.

This is technically a job for you. He bats the thought away, trying to tell himself you came out as a friend. As your ship lands, though, and you lug your giant camera tote he told you that you didn’t need to bring out of the ship…

It’s not discouraging. There’s nothing to be discouraged about.

Which is what Octavio tells himself as you two approach his childhood home.

You react like most people do to the sight of where he grew up: your jaw drops, your eyes widen, and you take the time to look the manor up and down. Ma always complained she’d wanted a bigger mansion. Considering she and Pa had only had him, that had never made a lot of sense to Octavio. Their room was empty most of the time, let alone all the other ones that he or the housekeepers didn’t occupy.

“Holy shit,” you mumble to him and he offers you the crook of his elbow. You turn your head to look at him and blanch. Octavio stares at you, foot beginning to tap impatiently. “What are you doing?”

“Offering you my arm. You’re my plus one. This is what rich people do, amiga,” he tells you. He distinctly leaves out the fact that he had etiquette training from the time he could walk until he was thirteen and purposefully jumped off the top of the stairs mid-lesson. His arm was broken, and he was in a sling which meant he didn’t have to go through which spoon was the right one again.

“I forget you’re a rich person,” you say.

“Makes one of us. Take the arm, mami, c’mon, let’s get this over with.”

You raise an eyebrow at him but slide your hand into the crook of his elbow anyway. You two stroll up to the way too big, double doors of the mansion and a large man Octavio doesn’t recognize opens one of them.

Inside the foyer, there’s a line of men in black suits, clearly some kind of security detail. Your heels click across the porcelain floors and when he chances a sideways glance at you, he sees that you’re unable to flush your face of the awe written across it – the vaulted ceilings and the crystal chandelier glittering in your eyes. You turn your head, looking up at the portrait of him, and ma, and pa, and he tugs your arm a little closer, trying to take your attention off of the grim looking little boy he didn’t see himself in.

He turns his gaze ahead and instantly his arms tense. Mami stands in the threshold of the ballroom, eyes stabbing through his.

Last he’d seen her, she’d had the beginnings of grays at her temples. Predictably, she’s dyed it back to its original brown, and stands with her back poised straight, hands folded in front of her. When you two are close enough, her pinkened lips pull upwards, into a smile that shows her teeth but doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Mijito,” she says, opening her arms. She wraps them around him, and they press their cheeks together in a brief kiss. “This is your photographer?”

“Si mami,” he murmurs, using the hand you don’t have captive to gesture your way. He tells Mami your name and how every piece of media that’s come out of Apex’s headquarters has been yours. “She’s incredible at what she does.”

“I should hope so. We expect nothing but the best,” says Mami.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Silva,” you say, offering your hand out. Mami’s smile doesn’t fade but if it didn’t reach her eyes before, it definitely doesn’t now, anger flaring in them.

“Ms. Silva, cariña,” croons Mami, and Octavio cringes away from the way her voices oozes, thickened by sweetness she doesn’t truly have. “I divorced from Octavio’s father a long time ago.”

“Oh, I-” you begin, probably going to apologize for information he hadn’t given you. Octavio doesn’t want you to do that. As a matter of fact, he kind of wants his mom to apologize for looking at you so coldly when she hadn’t publicized her and Pa’s divorce to begin with. Octavio jumps in, cutting you off.

“She didn’t know, ma, back off,” he bites. Ma’s blazing eyes turn on him and he glares back. Before she can say more, Octavio is hauling you into the ballroom.

“She can set up in the corner, near the bay windows!” Ma calls after him in Spanish and Octavio’s nostrils flare. He doesn’t feel like playing translator for someone who speaks English just fine tonight, but he has a feeling she’s going to rope him back in, make him play the dutiful son just for talking back. The bar’s already set up and kitchen staff are putting out a long buffet table of food. In the corner that Ma said you could set up in, there’s a long drape rolled out with Silva Pharms logo all over it – in bright, stim green.

“Oc,” you say, catching his attention as you two pull up to where you’ll be stationed for a majority of the evening. The hand on the inside of his elbow squeezes and he turns his head to look at you, at the little furrow between your brows, at your other hand moving around to squeeze his. “Hey, it’s okay. Some people don’t like to even think about being married to someone they divorced. I get that.”

“You don’t know her like I do,” mutters Octavio. “She was a lot meaner than she seemed.”

“Well, I didn’t notice. So, it’s fine,” you say. Your hand encompasses his and he watches your tote fall to the crook of your elbow instead of your shoulder. You don’t try to adjust it though, focused on him, and that makes his shoulder relax as much as it makes his pulse rapid. “It’s okay, Oc, seriously. We just got here. No one’s here yet. Help me set up and then we’ll grab some food before your parents’ guests arrive, okay?”

That… Sounds like a good plan. Octavio tries to shake the nervous energy from his limbs, remind himself that at least you’re here, but he can’t quite get rid of it. He feels like a dog backed into a corner by handlers with sticks but instead of beating him, none of them are moving.

To take his mind off it, he rapidly puts together your camera. You scold him several times, reminding him to be careful with your equipment.

“Octavio, you have to screw that in, not push it-”

“I knew that!”

“You did not!”

Octavio only cackles when you tell him the right way to set up your camera, but he does do it the way you tell him to. Once your camera is put together and placed on its little trifold, you and Octavio meander over to the buffet.

Whoever Ma hired to cater (because Ma always does all the organizing for these things; Pa just shows up) likes colorful dishes, bright blue and reds staring up at you two. There’s some leviathan meat in the corner that Octavio will definitely getting his hands on before the night is over, cooked medium rare with some kind of garlic and herb butter spread over it, the juice pooling in the plate beneath. More important than that though is finding the chicharron that Octavio knows is here.

It only takes him a minute to pull up the rind, with large, square knots of pork along it. He grins at you, coming closer, the meat recklessly flopping with every step.

“You gotta try this,” he says as you bend over the other edge, eyeballing what he’s pretty sure is some kind of cheesecake, placed just beneath the chocolate fountain. You twist around with an empty plate, hovering it just beneath the chicharron before it can drip onto the floor.

“You need a plate,” you reply and Octavio snickers. Despite your words, you lean in, biting the edge of one of the protruding cubes of pork. You sigh at the taste and Octavio grins, showing all his teeth. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, baby!”

You and Octavio eat before the guests arrive and as people begin to filter into the ballroom, you take your place at the corner where you’ll be taking pictures. Octavio isn’t too far away, pacing the big, empty space just beside the tarp with all the Silva Pharm logos. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until someone he doesn’t recognize comes up to him, laughing about how Octane can never sit still, huh?

Octavio smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he agrees. That’s one of the things he’s always hated about these stupid fundraisers or events or whatever the hell this thing is. He usually doesn’t know half the people there, or even a quarter, and they all walk up to him like they know him. Even more so now that he’s made Octane.

“Octavio,” someone says, and he glances up to see his Ma fast approaching. She doesn’t look angry, though. Maybe a little annoyed but Octavio has learned that she always looks like that, one side of her mouth pulled up a little further than the other, brows low on her face. At least, she always looks that way around him. “Come and say hello, the photographer isn’t going anywhere.”

Octavio sputters, though Ma places her hand on the inside of his elbow and without thinking, Octavio bends his arm to meet her. Octavio doesn’t think a lot anyway, but it feels like a low blow to use you to make his brain work a little less. He glances back at you, standing with your back straight, waiting for someone to come get their photo op. You smile at him. He smirks back.

It makes sense that mostly old people invest in a pharmaceutical company but that doesn’t mean Octavio doesn’t find them totally, completely boring. They talk about things like their most recent vacations, or something silly their butlers did, and Ma laughs along, placing a hand over her chest as though these stories are the funniest things she’s ever heard.

Maybe they are. Octavio wouldn’t know. He stopped finding the staff’s misfortune funny around the time Señora Luz told Pa she was pregnant, and she suddenly didn’t have a job anymore. He wasn’t allowed to open the door for her either.

Ajay’s parents approach and Mami greets them warmly, pulling them into big hugs and giving them kisses on each cheek. On principle alone, Octavio is a little less familiar, waving their way, and they all laugh about how they’d never known him to be shy.

They didn’t know the first thing about him anyway.

“Oh, but where is his blazer?” Ajay’s mom asks and Octavio grunts. Ma turns her cold eyes back to him, calculatingly sizing him up. She must not have noticed when he walked in that he wasn’t wearing one. He’d almost gotten away with it, too.

“It’s so hot in here, don’t you think?” Ma smoothly covers and Octavio taps his fingers soundlessly against his thigh. He’ll hear about it later.

Octavio finds himself getting restless. His fingers itch and his toes curl in his overpriced shoes. He wants to run. Maybe even turn and jump out the bay window. Or go out back and see if Ma still has horses on this property or if she finally got sick of the memories of Pa in these halls.

He glances your way, finding you hunched over your camera. The couple at the other end of it smiles and you snap three shots, back to back. He wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between them, but you’d know if the angles were different, or if one had flash and another didn’t. When they walk off, you stand upright and catch his eye.

Your wink sends a powerful burst of something through his chest. It makes his blood pump faster but also makes his shoulders relax and fuck. He’s so, totally fucked. You’re the one thing keeping him from doing something stupid. Which means he’s fucked.

“Mijo,” he hears, though this time it isn’t Ma, and Octavio curses to himself. Yeah. He’s fucked.

He turns, not bothering to paste on a smile. If nothing else, amongst themselves, the Silva’s aren’t fake. Ma is busy with the Ches and a group of people that like to laugh at other people’s expense. Octavio hasn’t seen his Pa in awhile but he looks just like Octavio remembers – his thick eyebrows are trimmed, arched like he’d spent way too much time having someone do them, his dark hair graying at the edges. Unlike Ma, he doesn’t dye it though, claiming the silver makes him look more refined, that his most recent wife likes him gray. He’s surprised she’s not clinging to his arm, in something way too tight and tiny that would piss Ma off if she saw it.

“Where’s Gloria?” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth. Gloria’s young, grossly so, closer to Octavio in age than Pa. She’s nice, though, and last Octavio heard, she and Pa’s marriage was going swimmingly.

“Who knows?” Pa asks back and Octavio subtly rolls his eyes. Leave it to Pa not to know where his wife is. He doesn’t outright berate her though, which means they must still be together, so she’s somewhere around here. Octavio should say hi. He’d be happier to see her than Pa, or Ma. “You look nice tonight, hijo. Thank you for bringing a photographer – you know your Mama won’t let anyone I hire work.”

Octavio does not know that and doesn’t really care to, but he nods along anyway. His eyes keep flickering over to you, eager to go make stupid faces in the background of your pictures or tickle your sides so that you lose focus.

“Ah, I see,” Papa says. Irritated, Octavio turns his gaze back to him.

“You see what?” He asks.

“You’re fucking her?” Papa asks and Octavio feels his shoulders jump up to his ears. His whole body braces, like he’s about to jam stim into his thigh, like he’s about to take off in the middle of a firefight.

“What the fuck, papa?” He hisses back, not even realizing they’ve switched to Spanish until a second after he’s speaking it. “Why would you ask me something like that?”

“C’mon, son, you wouldn’t be the first one to fuck the help,” sniffs Papa, and the way he says help makes Octavio bristle all over. “It’s okay. She’s cute!”

“That’s none of your business,” seethes Octavio, practically baring his teeth. “Don’t compare her to Luz. This is different.”

“Luz? I wasn’t talking about Luz,” says Papa. Then, his eyes narrow, and he looks a little bit more hostile, stepping into Octavio’s space. “What do you mean different? Octavio, did you get her pregnant? You know we can’t afford that kind of a scandal-”

“Oc!” You suddenly chime from his right and he and Papa both jump. He spins to face you and you look at him, bug eyed, hands risen like you’re trying to declare a cease fire. “-Tane. Octane. Buddy. Some people are asking you for a photo-op… Am I, uh, interrupting something?”

“No, no, not at all, sweetheart,” Papa says, moving forward to introduce himself. Somehow, it’s worse than Mami not doing it at all, especially with the sweet smile you give him as you shake hands. “Go, Octane. The people want you. Here, take a vial with you, get into character.”

Pa hands him a vial of stim and Octavio’s fingers close tightly around it, knuckles white with frustration. You jam your hand into the crook of Octavio’s arm and drag him away. He’s still fuming, hot all over with his rage, and you move a little closer to him as you guys stroll across the ballroom.

“You okay? That looked kind of heated,” you say, and Octavio looks down at you, doing his best not to fixate all that fury on you.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s-it’s fine- did someone really want a photo-op or did you just sneak me out?” He asks, realizing that you must’ve seen that something was going on between he and his papa. The sheepish smile that tugs your lips confirms it. Octavio laughs, trying not to bend at the waist so he can keep walking. “Bad girl.”

“Sorry,” you say, but Octavio kind of wants to kiss you for it, “but I can keep you for a little while with that photo-op thing. These people won’t turn it down.”

Okay, yeah, Octavio really wants to kiss you. Not only did you save him from an exchange with pa (about you, but he pushes that part to the back of his mind), you’re now offering to keep him from him indefinitely.

“You’re the best,” murmurs Octavio. His lips barely brush your ear and he doesn’t miss the little stutter of your breath. Oh yeah. He’s definitely going to repay you for earlier on the ride back to the Apex City.

Octavio lines up and that really seems to get people wanting to come over for pictures. Two old men he doesn’t recognize give him a cigar and he wedges it and the stim vial between his teeth, pointing at the camera with two of them. When a woman walks up, he dips her low, cackling while she swoons. More people come and Octavio makes stupid faces at the camera, even getting one old timer to throw up horns with him. You make the shoot fun and for once, he thinks he might have to pat Ajay on the back. Or apologize for lying. Maybe both.

“Mijito,” Octavio hears in the middle of another picture with two women. One has her hands on his chest, her leg swept up, and the other presses against his back while he holds up his arms in some silly superman pose. He peers over the head of the one in front of him, seeing not only Mami, but Pa standing at the very edge of the tarp. Fuck.

The picture’s taken and you lift yourself from behind the camera, glancing between him and his parents. He shoos away the two women, who thank him for the time and then swarm you to get a look at the picture. You fumble with your camera, clearly preoccupied with making sure his mami doesn’t bite his head off. With no other option, your gaze turns to the photos, and Octavio tries his best to keep his chin held high as he walks over to his parents.

“Your papa has told me something interesting,” says Mami first. Octavio’s jaw clenches and whatever tension he’d been accumulating earlier returns full force. The urge to run or fight hits him hard but he stands his ground. “Is that photographer pregnant?”

“No,” groans Octavio, reaching up to scrub at his face. “God, what is wrong with you two? Why is it if I look at someone you have to tell me to not get them pregnant? Or assume I will?”

“You haven’t been responsible with anything else. Why would we expect you to be responsible with sex?” Mami demands. If he weren’t already seething, Octavio might be embarrassed at this conversation. He is, though.

“I was responsible with Navi. And with every other pet you got me. And with my stim. I’m here, aren’t I?” He growls out and Mami holds up a finger instantly, drawing a little closer to try and hide the look she’s giving him.

“Don’t speak to your mother that way.” Pa says and Octavio whips his head to look at him, instead of his mother’s icy glare.

“What way? I’m just telling her the truth. I’m here when I didn’t want to be. I brought you guys a photographer,” growls Octavio.

“For no one else’s benefit but your own,” hisses Mami, “I should’ve known you wouldn’t do something like this without an ulterior motive. Does she have something on you Octavio? Is that why you brought her here?”

“No! She’s a good photographer and I needed someone other than you two here!” Octavio snaps, the words rolling off like venom and Mami’s chin tilts down, eyes flashing.

“Oh, of course, bringing a chew toy to a PR event must make you feel so much better,” Mami scoffs. He reaches up, pushing a hand through his brightly colored mohawk, nostrils flaring.

“Don’t talk about her like that,”

“I’ll talk about whoever I want however I want, and-”

“Not her!”

“God, you are just like your father, Octavio. We cannot afford to have you in trouble with the Games, and certainly not for some-”

“Ma, I’m not doing this with you. I’m here, I’m promoting Silva, and unless you want me to leave, you will not speak about her the way I know you were just about to. You will not.” Octavio outright barks and this seems to draw the attention of those strolling by them. Mami’s face slackens, her eyes flashing. In them, in the clench of her jaw, the curl of her fist, he sees something. Something like recognition.

He doesn’t care, too busy fuming about the fact they’re even having this stupid fucking argument. Octavio barely notices Pa, standing off to the side, looking as useless as he always does when he and Mami argue, or the short, porky man that hurries up to Mami’s left.

“Excuse me, Señora Silva,” the butler says, cutting their staring contest short. “There’s something requiring your attention in the kitchen. A wine shipment hasn’t arrived?”

“Hijo de gran puta,” snarls Mami, throwing her hands up. She turns away from his glower and it feels good to have won one of those standoffs. Even if it was technically a foul. Mami stomps into the distance and that leaves Octavio and Pa.

“Son, you know it’s not a good idea to-” begins Pa, but Octavio doesn’t let him finish. He hates when he does things that remind him of Mami but he turns away from him anyway, looking out at the rest of the ballroom as though he’d just gotten into an argument with everyone in it. He wants to run. He wants to jam the stim into his thigh and carry himself all the way back to the ship port, maybe roll in some mud to get this stupid crisp button up dirty. He wants to-

“Hey,” your voice chimes gently. He feels your fingers on his cheek and you turn his head, making him look at you. Your face is soft, and vulnerable, and open, and he’s so fucked. “C’mon. Show me to the bathroom.”

Octavio snorts. He offers you his elbow, but you don’t take it, instead interlocking your fingers and pulling him towards the exit. He notices your camera is still set up on the way out, but you’ve draped something over it to signify your booth is closed for a little while. Realizing he’s supposed to be taking you somewhere, Octavio pulls you up the stairs, down the hall, and into one of the many rooms of his childhood.

Being the son of preoccupied billionaires with too much on their plates to bother handling a rambunctious little boy, Octavio had a lot of rooms growing up. He had a game room, and a homework room (which was supposed to function as an office, when he got old enough to take over some of Silva Pharms mountains of paperwork). This room was always his favorite though. He slept in it most nights and even when he moved out, he hadn’t changed anything about it.

The full-sized mattress in the corner has racecar sheets. Octavio can’t drive for shit, but he always liked to watch old movies when it was common for everyone to use cars. The noises of engines rumbling with motor oil, of rubber on pavement… When he was a little boy, he told Luz he wanted to be a race car driver when he grew up. She laughed but on every holiday from then on out, she bought him a model race car.

All of them are lined up on the very top of a shelf, which has a bright red racing strip painted down the side. He’s got posters of old Nascar drivers on the wall, people who have been dead for centuries but who got to do super cool, fun things. Who sometimes even wrecked their cars.

“Hope you didn’t actually need the bathroom,” mutters Octavio, locking the bedroom door.

“What if I did?” You ask. He looks over his shoulder at you, checking to see if you’re serious, only to see you lounging on the edge of his mattress, peering around the room.

“Your room’s really cute,” you say, and Octavio snorts as he joins you, collapsing onto his old bed. It was way too big for him as a little kid, and even now as a young man, his slight frame doesn’t take up much of the larger beds offered to him. “Who even likes cars anymore? No one drives them.”

“We have a Bugatti in the garage.”

“Of course you do.” You two sit in silence for a while, the sounds of the party downstairs just barely reaching you. “So… you wanna talk about it?”

Not really. Talking about it means telling you what it was that got him and his parents into an argument in the first place. “My parents are just… The worst.”

“I got that.” You say. He glances your way, appraising you, and you hold your hands up. “Hey, we call them like we see them here.”

“They just, um.” Octavio frowns. Should he tell you? He feels like he shouldn’t. “My dad kind of saw me looking at you and asked if we were fucking.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you says anything, unsure of how to proceed. Octavio’s knee begins to jiggle, and he huffs out a big breath, dragging a hand down his face.

“I told him it was none of his business, so I guess he decided to tell my mom. Which was… What that was about,” explains Octavio, waving his hand noncommittally. “They thought you were pregnant.”

“Ouch,” you say, and Octavio giggles. He peers over at you and you’re smiling, eyes soft, shining in the low light from his stupid race car lamp. Your make up has smudged a little, the vermillion on your lips mostly gone after you two had your share of food. Yet he can still see the remnants of it, especially as he sees the little upwards curve of your lips.

Fuck.

Without thinking, Octavio reaches up, hand cupping the back of your neck so he can haul you into a kiss, trying to take the remnants of that pretty red you’d been wearing. You go willingly, matching his vigor, his speed, and that’s one of the things he loves about you. One of the things that’s been driving him crazy, keeping him up until ungodly hours as he tries to figure how someone could affect him this way. You always keep up, even if you’re not ready to run into the line of fire.

You rest your hand on his chest, tilting your head, and Octavio instantly wedges his tongue between your lips. You part them readily and you still kind of taste like whatever chocolatey something or other you’d gotten your hands on earlier. His other hand settles on your hip, and he wants to pull you on top so badly, wants you to scream so loudly that they know what’s going on downstairs. He wants you to look at him like you just were but maybe forever.

He wants to tell you. He wants to tell you what he said to you that night, what’s had him so bugged out. The thought alone feels like a rush.

You pull away from him pressing kisses across the taut flesh of his jaw. He sighs, head moving away, and your teeth clink against the black studs he has in his ear lobes. His blood pumps in his veins, the hand on your neck gliding down the length of your spine.

“Te adoro,” he murmurs between kisses. You pause, pulling away to meet his eyes. Your hair tickles his cheeks and he reaches up, tucking it behind your ear. “Eres en mi vida todo mi tesoro.”

“What?”

“Quiero decirte. Pero tengo miedo,” continues Octavio, fingers slipping into your hair. He tugs you down, catching your lower lip between his teeth, and you shudder in his grasp. You’re half on top of him, your body hot, your mouth swollen, and he wants. “No quiero perderte.”

“Oc, I don’t understand,” you breathe. Rather than telling you, though, he kisses you hard, lips moving across yours, and you melt into his arms.

“Jesús,” groans Octavio as his hand slides beneath the high cut on the side of your dress. He grabs at your panties, trying to yank them down your thighs. The twist of your torso to lean over him makes it hard. “Get those things off.”

“What did you say?” You huff out, though you obediently rise, dragging your panties down.

Rather than answering you, Octavio grabs you by the waist, pulling you back on top of him. He doesn’t stop you at his cock, though, half hard and tightening his pants. Instead, he helps you up, hooking your legs beneath his shoulders, your thighs on either side of his head and you whine, burying your fingers into his soft hair as you realize what he’s doing.

His hands travel up your naked thighs, to your ass, gripping it tightly. He looks up at you, at the dark look in your eyes as you pull the fabric of your dress aside, spreading your legs wider, clit even closer to his mouth. He huffs a breath against your cunt, damp but not wet, and his cock demands that he rectifies that right now.

With no further warning, Octavio’s mouth finds the shape of your cunt, molding against it, wetly kissing the pretty pink flesh. You quietly gasp, fingers wrinkling your dress, and he swipes at your slit with gentle flicks of his tongue, letting the musky taste of you linger on his lips.

That doesn’t feel right, though, not for the urgency at which he feels the need to move, so he flattens his tongue, sliding it through your slickening folds and up to your clit, slowly peeking out. The minute he feels it, firm and juicy and wet beneath his tongue, he sucks it between his lips.

The unhinged moan you let out is only emphasized by how you tighten your grip on his hair. You try to spread your legs further and Octavio fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your ass. Octavio helps you fuck your clit against his tongue, using his grip to make you grind against him, and the moan that leaves you sends a painful jolt to his dick.

His eyes flutter briefly open and if he wasn’t hard before, he is now, Dios. Your hair frames your warmed face beautifully, mouth open to heave in desperate little pants. Your clit is needy, twitching against his tongue, and your hands are fisted into the fabric of your dress, partly for leverage and partly to give him access to you.

His tongue slips down to your hole, the tip of it pushing, pressing it apart to gather up even more of your taste. You shudder above him, trying to roll your hips forward, and Octavio quickly takes the hint. His tongue moves back up to your clit, flicking back and forth, moving swiftly, and he feels your thighs tense, ass cheeks clenching in his hands.

“Oh, Oc, don’t stop,” you whimper, and he sucks as you thrust forward, uncaring of the way his chin drips with you. He’s going to smell like pussy. “God, right there, right there, Octavio, yes, yes, yesyesyes-”

You cum with a noiseless gush and Octavio groans at the sensation of your juice trailing down his chin. He doesn’t care that you slacken in his grip, that he’s momentarily suffocated by your cunt, just wants you to grind against his face as much as you can, try to ride out that orgasm you just had. You shudder, pushing at his head. Octavio pulls away, letting you scoot back down the length of him. The second he can reach you he kisses you, open mouthed and dirty, letting you taste the salty cum on his lips.

“Fuck.”

“Si, I’m trying,” he says, pressing your hips against his slacks. The noise that leaves you is half laugh, half moan, your clit hypersensitive against the fabric. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Yes,” you say, “please, yes. Yes, let’s fuck.”

“Yes, good, okay,” Octavio babbles. He taps your ass with two fingers. As you roll off, he undoes his belt, tossing it to the side. He unzips his pants, thumbs hooking into the waistband, only to find you reaching down to help him. He raises his eyebrows up at you and you smirk, seemingly having caught your second wind. “Si?”

“Si?” You taunt, reaching down to tug his pants down. You only pull them just enough that his cock can spring out, erect from eating you out, and you sigh at the sight of it.

He grins, trying to scoot his pants down a little more, only to pause at the sensation of something cool in his pocket. You climb on top of him, parting your dress again, and he watches you carefully.

With one hand, Octavio rolls that sweetheart neckline down your shoulders, to your elbows. It puts you in an odd position, unable to move your hands, but your tits fall out and, fuck, if that isn’t the sexiest shit he’s seen.

“I’m gonna ride you.”

“Oh, I thought you were sleeping.”

You snort. Unable to move your arms, your dress caught around your biceps, Octavio has to reach down to position his dick beneath your wet cunt. It opens beautifully for him as he drags the blunt tip along your lips, drenched with your earlier orgasm, and when it bumps your clit you jolt. Finally, gratefully, he finds your hole, and without further teasing, you sink all the way down onto him.

Your mouth falls open and you both groan in unison. Octavio’s thighs clench, trembling, because it’s only been a few hours since he’s cum and he’s not sure how much it will take for him to do it again. You feel so good, though, your pussy pulling him in.

“God, Oc,” you groan, falling forward, and your hands find purchase on his firm abdomen, tits squishing together as your index fingers touch. Before he can say something back, you’re moving, breasts jiggling with every bounce of your hips.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he whines, tips of his fingers digging into your thigh, and he’s pretty sure you can feel his pulse thumping through his dick. He bucks up into you, making your tits bounce harder, and you gasp as the tip of his cock thumps against something that feels different than the rest. “God, there?”

“There,” you moan back. As your eyes flutter shut, he slowly, carefully, pulls the neon green vial from his pocket. You’re lost in your own bliss, only sliding halfway up his cock. He waits, waits for your eyes to flutter open and when you finally look at him again, eyes heady and dark with lust, he jams the stim into his thighs.

Your jaw falls open, eyes widening as his veins bulge green, eyes brightening. He grins, wolfish, heart pounding. In the games, the stim makes him want to run, to shoot something. Now, all it does is make him eager to fuck you harder, faster, faster, faster.

The vial rolls out of his hand and he seizes your hips, holding you in place. You whine, desperate and he’s quick to oblige you. He thrusts up, cock disappearing and reappearing in a blur, tirelessly fucking you from the bottom, his thighs tensing at the tight squeeze of your walls on his cock.

The soft hair around his cock is already slick with you, worsening as he fucked into you with all the energy he saves for the ring, saves for when he’s Octane. Your chin drops against your chest, and he devours you with his eyes. He catches the way your teeth sink painfully into your lower lip and something primal comes over him, an animalism for your noises to overpower the ones from the party downstairs.

One of his hands shoots to your stomach, thumb blurring down to your clit. He fondles the hard, wet nub, and groans at the sensation of your pussy muscles clenching hard around his throbbing cock.

You borderline scream, trying your best to smother it with a scramble of your hand. It doesn’t help, the noise choppy with every powerful thrust of his hips into your cherry red cunt.

“Oh! Octavio! Oc!” You cry, the fingers of your opposite hand digging into his button up, grasping for purchase. He doesn’t know whether you lose your balance or just can’t keep yourself upright, but you plummet into his chest. He doesn’t flinch, just uses the angle to fuck you down the length of him, panting into your ear. Your pussy makes wet noises as he pounds you down onto his cock, tongue flickering out over your ear.

“What did you say?” You suddenly whine. It startles him and his rhythm stutters with his surprise, breath hitching in his throat. He holds it until he’s lightheaded, staring past your head at the ceiling. You weakly grind against his cock and he realizes he’s practically stopped moving, body only moving because of the stim being force through his veins like adrenaline.

“Oc,” you huff out, turning to press your brow against his throat. He can feel his pulse hammering in his jugular and he can’t tell if it’s because of the stim or because of you. “Please.”

Octavio abruptly sits up beneath you. His hands wrap tight around your waist, lips placing wet, open mouthed kisses along your collarbones.

“Te amo,” he murmurs into your skin, lowly, like maybe you won’t hear him if he speaks quietly enough. Recognition flashes in your face. The arms of your dress slide back up your shoulders as you suddenly wrap your arms around his shoulders You use him for leverage to lift yourself up and down his cock, your wet cunt squeezing, hugging. Sloppy noises make their way out and he vaguely recognizes that his pants are going to be ruined.

“Say it so I can understand you,” you demand and he’s helpless, a slave to your desires, every sweet roll of your hips sending bolts of lightening through his gut. He grunts, fingers digging into your lower back.

“Fuck,” he hisses and you twist your head, biting into his throat. He moans, the noise low, strangled, drawn out as you continue to raise and drop your hips, only moving part way up his dick as you do. “Fuck, fuck, baby, porfa, I need-”

“Say it!” You gasp, the friction of his pubic bone against your clit sending you into a frenzy, making you use your grip on his shoulders to raise yourself up higher, until only the tip is inside. Your thighs work to keep you up but you slam back down and Octavio shudders.

“I love you,” he finally whispers, and you turn your head into his hair, wailing near his ear. He whimpers at the noise, trying to roll up. In this position, though, he’s at your mercy, and you fuck yourself onto him once, twice, three more times until you’re shaking into a wetter, softer orgasm.

He hisses at the sensation, at how your cunt clutches him, trying to keep him inside even as you continue to drag your body along his dick. He presses his face to the space between your breasts, smelling your sweat, and your perfume, and he pulls you all the way down so you’re sitting on the very base of his cock, rocking you along it. Almost there, right there, yes, mierda, so good…

“Fuck,” he hisses out loud as he cums. It’s weaker than the one in the ship, little spurts gushing out of him instead of erupting. He keeps his forehead on your chest, catching his breath, your cheek resting on top of his head as you do the same.

“So…” you say, softly, and your voice is hoarse, even though you hadn’t been doing a whole lot of noise making. Shame flushes through Octavio, the last of the stim ebbing from his system. He’ll need to get his dialysis machine to wash away the shreds of it but he can’t focus on that, can’t focus on anything but what he said to you.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m,” he says, grabbing your hips, trying to push you off. You clutch him tighter and your fingers cup his chin. You bring his gaze up to yours and his breath hitches at the way you look at him, at that soft, gentle look that he wanted you to give him forever.

“I love you too.” You say. The world freezes. The noise from downstairs fogs out of his ears, the wet, sticky sensation of you on top of him gone as he stares up at you. You, who has been here for him this whole night, who started off as a hook up.

He moves quicker than lightening, quicker than he’s ever moved, yanking you into a kiss. Your lips move together, hurried, passionate, making up for all the time he didn’t know. He pulls away, lips making a wet, popping sound.

“I could listen to you say that all day,” he huffs out. You giggle and he holds you tightly to his chest for a long, perfect minute, your fingers carding through his short hair.

Octavio hurtles back onto the bed, arms flopping above his head and you snort, still sitting in his lap, his dick inside of you. You don’t seem in a hurry to get it out though. Octavio strokes your thigh. “I really wish you would’ve told me that before this. I could’ve come as your girlfriend.”

Octavio’s lips twitch up in a little smile and he reaches up, placing a hand on your cheek. You make a face at the sweat there, but you don’t move away, your eyes a little softer, a little more open than he’s seen them before.

“You could’ve told me. Ever thought of that, chica?” Octavio asks. He throws his head back, laughing when you lean away from him, climbing off his lap to flop next to him in bed. You loop an arm around his shoulders, interlocking your fingers and nestling against the one closer to you.

“You’re insufferable,” you say, and he kisses the top of your head, humming.

“You love me.”

“I do. I do.”

#octane/reader #octavio silva/reader #octane x reader #octavio silva x reader #apex octane #apex legends octane #apex legends #apex lemons #apex imagines #nsft #lemon #shorty writes #female reader

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d-pennants · 4 years

Text

Every line Aaravos says...

In an interview Ehasz & Richmond confirm that Aaravos never lies, but..

if you understand where he’s coming from, he’s not lying about anything. But you don’t necessarily know where he’s coming from. He never lies, he always tells the truth.

So, how much is the real truth, subjective truths, alternate interpretation of words, or paltering (misleading by misrepresenting select truths)? Who knows.

But I copied all of of Aaravos’ lines from transcripts if you want to try and guess.

Some are kinda funny in hindsight - “ Preparing you for greatness.” Just meant being able to see Aaravos, who is a Great One. (Or very impressed with his own looks).

S2E7 Fire and Fury

Viren: I'm ready. Aaravos: Speak. Viren: I - Aaravos: Speak, so I may hear you. Viren: Who- who are you? Aaravos: Ah How long I have waited to hear the sound of another voice. How may I serve you?

S2E8 The Book of Destiny

Viren: Who are you? Aaravos: My name would mean nothing to you. Viren: [sighs.] Where are you? Aaravos: I don't know. Viren: Don't lie to me. Aaravos: I'm not lying. I never lie. Viren: [sighs.] I found this mirror in the lair of the Dragon King. This mirror meant something to him. You meant something to him. Aaravos: Perhaps. Tell me what you need, and I will help you. Viren: I need your name. Aaravos: Aaravos.

Viren: What's going on? Every time I found a mention of you in an ancient scroll or tome, the entire passage disappeared as soon as I looked! [sighs.] What game are you playing? [sighs.] Viren: Ugh! [sighs.] Why should I trust you? Aaravos: You shouldn't… yet.

S2E9 Breathe

Viren: I should end this right now! Throw the mirror into a river and cut you off forever. Aaravos: You won't. You are too curious. Hungry for knowledge and power. Both things I can provide. Allow me to earn your trust. Viren: And how would that work, exactly? Aaravos: Search your heart. There's something that you want very badly. But something or someone stands in your way. Viren: I- I am having a problem getting some people to listen to me, to hear the importance of what I'm saying. Aaravos: Who are these people? Viren: They are kings and queens. The leaders of the other four human kingdoms. Aaravos: Then we will have to get their attention.

Aaravos: You tried to win over the other humans with loyalty and friendship, but they ignored you. Those who fail tests of love are simple animals. They deserve to be motivated by fear. Viren: Bring terror to Del Bar to Neolandia to Evenere and to Duren!

Aaravos: You're in danger. They've come for you. Do as I tell you. Prepare for battle. Guard: Lord Viren! Open up, by order of the High Council! Aaravos: Well? Open it for them! Opeli: Surrender, Viren! Aaravos: Stop. It's over. Viren: But I can destroy them all! I have all the power I need! Aaravos: Stop! Opeli: You're completely surrounded, Viren! Give yourself up. Don't make me give the order. Viren: You have betrayed me. Aaravos: No. I will stay with you.

S3E1 Sol Regem

Aaravos: Do not despair. Be patient. Your time will come. You have put things in motion.

S3E3 Ghost

Aaravos: Get up. Get up. You have visitors coming. You're going to need to look presentable. Viren: My children. I'm so glad to see you safe. Claudia: What happened, Dad? Why are you down here? Viren: While I tried to unite the five kingdoms against Xadia, the Council was more concerned that I broke a few rules along the way. But none of that matters. The egg, did you get it? Claudia: It's not an egg anymore. It's hatched. Viren: It hatched? That dragon will become the most powerful creature in the world, and you've let it fall back into Xadia's hands? Claudia: But, Dad, Soren could've died. Viren: That doesn't matter! Soren: Dad? Viren: I do not mean to be cruel. But we must be ready to sacrifice. Even the things we love. I would have asked you to choose the egg over my life, if it came to it. Do you understand? Everything I do, and everything I ask of you, is for the future of humanity. Claudia: Is that why you told Soren to kill the princes?

Claudia: Answer me, Dad. Why did you tell Soren to kill the princes?

Aaravos: Careful. If you tell the truth, you will lose her. You will need her soon. Viren: Oh, is that what you thought, Soren? Claudia, did you really think I would ask him to do such a thing? Surely you know your brother is um, easily confused. Soren: Wait, I know I'm not the smartest, but I know what you said. Viren: Oh, really? What do you remember? Soren: You told me to return with the news that the princes died. You said, "Accidents happen all the time." Viren: Soren, I was preparing you for the worst. I knew tragedy might have already befallen them No! You said that I'd know to do the right thing. Viren: Soren. I said "do the right thing," and somehow you heard "kill the princes." Oh this is disappointing, son. Even for you. Soren: Claudia, you believe me, right? Claudia: Oh, Sor-bear. I believe you thought you heard it, but you obviously made a mistake. We're just really lucky you messed up the mission you thought you had, huh? Wow.

S3E4 Midnight Desert

Viren: What are you doing? Aaravos: Preparing you for greatness. Now, be still.

Aaravos: It is ready. Open your eye. You can hear me. And now you can see me. And I can better serve you.

S3E5 Heroes and Masterminds

Claudia: Knock knock! - Oh, who's your new friend? Viren: Don't! Do not touch it. Claudia: Sorry, Dad. I just thought it looked cute. Viren: No. I'm sorry. I'm just trying to get ready for our march on Xadia. Did you need something? Claudia: Uh, no! I was just making sure you're okay. I mean, you are okay, right? Viren: Thank you. I'm fine. Claudia, you understand why Prince Ezran had to be removed? Claudia: Of course. He couldn't have done the things that need to be done. Viren: Others might take a crown out of self-importance, but I-

Claudia: You're doing it to help us. To help everyone. Viren: Yes. Yes, that's right. That's why I know I can count on you, Claudia. Claudia: Everything's going to be okay, Dad. I'm here for you. Aaravos: Well played. She will be a valuable asset. Viren: She is not an asset. She is my daughter.

S3E6 Thunderfall

Soren: What, you don't want me to smoosh that thing? Viren: Do not smoosh the purple creature. Think of it as my animal familiar. Soren: So, you're saying you've adopted a little bug-pal? Viren: Yes, Soren. He is my little bug-pal. Soren: I'll just ride back here with Claudia for a while. Aaravos: Has our relationship truly escalated to this new height? Am I your "little bug-pal"? We have a long journey ahead. While we travel, there is something I have been meaning to ask you. My understanding is that somehow you killed Avizandum. Viren: I've killed no such person. Aaravos: Avizandum was no person. Avizandum was an archdragon, the great king of all the dragons. The most powerful creature in the world. Yet, somehow, you brought him down. Viren: So, Avizandum was his true name. We called him Thunder.

Aaravos: Please, continue. I eagerly await the great confrontation. Viren: We did not find Thunder Avizandum where we expected to find him.

Aaravos: What an incredible story. I am delighted you took down that arrogant monster. Viren: It sounds like you have a history with Avizandum. Aaravos: Oh, I do. He is the reason I am where I am today. Viren: And where is that? Aaravos: He never bothered to mention where he imprisoned me. Viren: You're imprisoned? Your home looks like no prison I've ever seen. Aaravos: Yes, it's well appointed. But make no mistake, this has been my prison these past few centuries.

Claudia: We're going to cross that border. After all impassable is just another kind of passable. Aaravos: Yes!

S3E7 Hearts of Cinder

Viren: So, what is the plan? Aaravos: To fulfill your wishes, of course. Is your wish to rule Xadia? Viren: I wish for humanity to flourish. And it cannot flourish with a knife forever at its throat. Aaravos: So, you wish to conquer Xadia? Viren: No! No, my goal is a bright future for humanity. Aaravos: Right. And this bright future will require us to conquer Xadia? Viren: Yes. Yes, perhaps. Aaravos: The key to achieving your noble aims for humanity is simple. It's the same as it has always been. Viren: The key is the Dragon Prince. Aaravos: Yes. You must take down the Dragon Queen and capture the baby dragon. Then you will have the attention of all the world, and the power to do what you want. But first, there is something we need here in Lux Aurea. Viren: You want us to attack the stronghold of the Sunfire elves? But we need to preserve our forces for the final confrontation. Aaravos: Viren, I'm nothing if not elegant and efficient. We'll risk as few lives as possible… one. Viren: Ah, mine. Aaravos: Yes.

Khessa: Ugh! Humans disgust me. Your kind could not be satisfied with what you were given. So you take what is not yours. You take it within you, and you turn it to filth. Aaravos: Your arrogance is so predictable. You allowed my vessel to walk right into your court, and then you brought him directly to the source of all your power? Oh, the irony is wonderful! You're just like your grandmother. Would you like to know the truth of her fate before you face yours?

(Aaravos whispers something. The second word seems to be human).

S3E9 The Final Battle

Aaravos: When you capture the dragonling, I will show you how to take his power, how to imbue yourself with all his magic and potential, so that you will transcend the limits of your human form. Then none will dare stand against you.

Aaravos: Brace yourself.

Aaravos dark magic spell: He swallows your heart. He swallows your mind. He swallows your power.

#aaravos #tdp transcript #transcript #tdp quotes #my notes

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freetheshit-outofyou · 4 years

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Donny puts people at risk for a photo op. It's unfortunate that another virus exists among millions of people who don't yet have a clue that this corona virus is not "just a flu" That mask wearing and social distancing is not a "Democratic hoax" It's world wide. In the end he will take a lot of people with him for his arrogance and ignorance.

OK slick! The Who and the CDC have been wrong at every turn of this mess. So if you really want to blame people blame the retards guiding this train wreck. Mr. Trump is not perfect, I’ll give you that, but he has tried to put in place systems to slow the spread of this virus, remember that little travel ban? You remember, come on think about it, the one that House Speaker Nancy Pelosi said was “Un-American” and then when he expanded it she had this to say; “The Trump Administration’s expansion of its outrageous, un-American travel ban threatens our security, our values and the rule of law. The sweeping rule, barring more than 350 million individuals from predominantly African nations from traveling to the United States, is discrimination disguised as policy,” When people were getting sick all over the Nation Nancy Pelosi displayed by her actions and total disregard for the impact of this virus and encourage the people population to be out in it when she said: “It’s exciting to be here, especially at this time, to be able to be unified with our community,” Pelosi said on Feb. 24. “We want to be vigilant about what is out there in other places. We want to be careful about how we deal with it, but we do want to say to people ‘Come to Chinatown, here we are — we're, again, careful, safe — and come join us.'” But, in April when asked if Mr. Trump did the right thing with the travel ban Mrs. Pelosi did a 180 and implied the President did not go far enough. “So, if you’re going to shut the door because you have an evaluation of an epidemic, then shut the door,” She actually wanted the Mr. Trump to block US Citizens from coming HOME and abandoning them in whatever location they were in, NICE!

New York, Gov. Andrew Cuomo was almost gleeful in pointing out that Washington state had 22 deaths in an elderly care center when he said; “You see that in the 22 deaths in Washington compared to New York with no deaths,” he said at a March 10 news conference. “Right? Same number of cases, look how much higher Washington is. Because it’s about senior citizens.” But, not two months later New York State had 2300 confirmed deaths in elderly care centers with another 2800 unconfirmed deaths from CoVID. (Side note: NY is now approaching 7,000 confirmed CoVID deaths just in elderly care centers.) On 25 March Gov. Cuomo put in place a directive that prohibited nursing homes from refusing to take in patients because they had or may have had COVID-19. That sent sick directly back into the elderly populations in the process infecting more than 20,000 elderly care workers along with tens of thousands of elderly WHO WERE NOT SICK. Gov. Cuomo kept that bullshit “directive” in place for 2 months, killing thousands of people and still takes no responsibility for it. Mr. Trump had very little to do with the shit shows that most state governors had going on, their hodge podge reactions to the the virus and their piss poor responses that cost their state populations lives. So stop with your shit throwing because you’re just wrong. MASKS, ALWAYS FUCKING MASKS

I am telling you right now masks are not going to save people, they are not saving people because people are not equipped with masks that DO FUCKING ANYTHING PROTECTIVE. I’ll break this down for you because it is clear you have a hard on for masks, gimp. N95 respirators and the like are MADE with specific materials to filter both the intake and expulsion of gasses. Anyone who has ever used a respirator in any kind in a professional environment knows for a mask/respirator to be effective they need to FIT TESTED, Bubba and Bertha in Bucksnort Tennessee (A real place, I broke down there once.) are not Fit Testing shit in their double wide. On the same note, Bruce and Betty in Beverly Hills are not Fit Testing either. So, no matter the quality of the mask/respirator with out a proper fit, without a proper seal they are just about worthless. This is what the CDC has to say on Fit Testing; “Because fit is so important, NIOSH recommends and OSHA requires that each respirator wearer receive an initial fit test and annual fit tests thereafter. It is not possible to predict how well a respirator will fit on a particular face, even for respirators that fit well on a broad range of facial sizes. The FDA does not recommend or require any test of fit for surgical masks. A very limited number of published studies are available on this aspect of surgical mask performance. Three clinical studies conducted in the 1980s and 90s found no difference in surgical infection rates when staff did not wear surgical masks.1, 2, 3 A recent laboratory study of five surgical masks with “good” filters found that 80–100% of subjects failed an OSHA-accepted qualitative fit test using Bitrex (a bitter tasting aerosol) and quantitative fit factors ranged from 4–8 (12–25% leakage) using a TSI Portacount.4 In contrast, the least protective type of respirator (negative pressure half mask) must have a fit factor (outside particle concentration divided by inside concentration) of at least 100 (1% leakage).” Now, let’s move on to the hand made and store bought masks, bandana’s and neck gators. ALL of them are trash. NONE of them provide any proven protection against anything. The N95, named 95 because of its rating to blocks less than 100% of airborne particulates, can filter down to .3 microns, that's great right. But, the mask you bought at the Walmart or made in your sewing room, made with tight weave cotton and double or triple layered does not. That is a fact. Boys and Girls, masks that are not properly worn, masks that are do not properly fit, and masks that are made of martials not specifically made to fitter particulates are a feel good measure. It is intended to make you fell like you are doing something constructive but in reality it is just the placebo effect you feel. I encourage people to do things that make them feel safe, it keeps people form panicking, but don’t try to press your fearmongering on me. See, I know a thing or two about the science of this, and your CoVID Karen pushing of mask will not sway me from the actual science behind particulate filtration.

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riskeith · 3 years

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hi babe, hope you slept well.. ♥️

answering on the phone is just *takes screenshots* *opens tumblr app* *switch between screenshots and answering* do you also put on my messages on the laptop and answering with your phone usually, because that’s what i do lmao sjshdks. thank god for technology.

(I LOVE BEING CALLED BRO.. i believe that i would’ve been a dudebro in another life tbh..) there is? i’m not super immersed in the fandom actually so i had no idea, do you have any examples? ofc only if you wanna talk about it i know these topics can sometimes be annoying to think about. also you’re right! ‘don’t like don’t read’ is the law. follow it. i can’t believe how some people have the nerve to talk about what other people do creatively... yikes

you should if you ever find yourself not knowing what to read! i think their fics were some of my first in the fandom and they set the bar so high hehe. dude i love how oikawa just wants to see kageyama burn it’s so funny..... he’s so cocky about it while kageyama’s just his moody self. speaking of; one of my fave fics of yours is the swapping jerseys one!

WTF 😭 BABY POOLS AND POOL FLOATIES..... razor please come back to us please. sidenote but do you also think that his powers are 5 star level? hes soo powerful it’s so odd how he’s only 4 star haha... or maybe it’s just me being biased.

YEAH! THE SAVING SCENE IS SO AHHHHH. god especially if they have dialogue while person a is hurting and person b just spills all their feelings and becomes so erratic and scared and person a is like holy shit you love me.... and after everything is okay there’s still some awkwardness and tension and aaa.... 💢💔

OOO. sadly the ps5 is always out of stock it’s crazy how fast it sold out. but i mean it makes sense it’s arguably the most popular console so.. hopefully they restock soon. last of us is such a fun game! and the second part is ~gay~ which is always a plus. i’m not sure which memes you mean? tell me 👁 HAHA that makes sense actually omg... lumine and aether reunion won’t happen until like two years if the updates keep coming the way they are (STOP THAT WOULD ACTUALLY BE SO FUNNY.... like hello if you want to unlock the rest of the story you either gacha $pin for it or you imagine it yourself love ♥️😗) talking about this makes me wonder what the other worlds might look like....

your followers are just here to witness us planning our co-op date sjsjdkdjskz. speaking of,,, hehe. i have some fantastic news. i’m at ar level 11 right now and co-op unlocks at level 16... i might just reach that tomorrow (today for you) so i’m just saying hehehehehehehehehehehe.... 😏♥️

BOWL CUT. my cutie little baby. also mullet? sounds nice omg you will probably rock that look... 😳 i’m a non mullet supporter but if cluna has a mullet then call me a yeehaw mullet lover i suppose. can’t believe my wife is a cowboy. OMG YEAH IT MUST FEEL SO NICE your head went bzz bzz. how long did it take for them to accept it? and yeah god ikr some people take hair so seriously which is fair but also i’ve never understood it... like it grows out..? wow you really went from a ballet girl to punk rock style huh. i feel like you’re the both sides of the ‘she was a punk she did ballet’ meme.

memo fic is a jealous fic? mmm smells good. I FIGURED jshdjdkhsjs slow songs are just not your forte, huh? rip. langst is the best yet worst thing ever tbh. and YEAH I DO we’re truly 🤝 ok literally mood sometimes it’s just nice to talk about how much you love a character through another character in a fic yk? so what if this 2k fic contains 1k words about how beautiful oikawa looks? it’s what iwa feels <3 (YOU’RE LEARNING!!!!!!! THATS SO EXCITING!! i guess you just have to drive me around, huh?)

oh i’m in love i’m with that fic my girl. and i knew about that spoiler it’s kind of hard to miss it since it’s everywhere skdhdkdhdk... god, that sounds so good thank you for sharing it. pining iwaizumi hajime >>>>>>>> the air i need to exist 🥺

THE DAY IS SO SOON CLUNA, it’s literally here soooo soon holy shit i just can’t wait. i played for almost 6 hours today in a row like an idiot and now i never wanna see hilichurls again in my life but hey, one step closer to my baby. prepare yourself.. 😏

AWWW i had a feeling you’d be a tea person. but omg tea effects your sleep? how late is too late for you to drink it? what’s your favorite flavors? 👁 and i’m addicted to both shdkdhsks. i say addicted bc i literally have 6 cups of tea per day easily and like.. 1 or 2 coffee cups per day. it’s really bad but i can’t stop so.. 🙇🏽‍♀️

COLLEGE BOYFIES CLUNA. COLLEGE BOYFIES WITH DIP DYE HAIR. imagine them doing each other’s make up and nails before going to concerts together. imagine xiao in euphoria kind of make up. holy shit. here’s something for your overwhelmed heart jsdhjshska. xiaoven soulmates girl, no doubt about it. THE EDIT THE EDIT THE EDIT!!!! they just look so beautiful. we need scenes with them like Asap. the edit is based on a fic... notes down.

can’t wait to see your screenshots. super excited!!

xo, m.a. (i almost wrote my name down in a haste shshskdjdk... although you’ll find it out soon...)

hiya!! i slept alright~ ahaha

:o that’s smart! but no i don’t LOL whether i’m on my phone or my laptop i just continuously scroll up and down fhdskjfkhsdf i think that’s why i come close to missing some paragraphs some times oops. yay for the ~wonders of technology~

(AIGHT NICE AHAHHA fhsdkjfsh does that mean you’re a bit of a tomboy?) actually coincidentally i came across this thread: https://twitter.com/maxatsuomi/status/1350145589296685057 which gives you an idea lmao (also some things on there i wasn’t even aware of wtf) EXACTLY??? it’s even worse when non content creators try to come for content creators like?????????/ um you’re getting all this food for FREE and yet?????? lmfao the nerve of some people

i def will!! FKJSHFDSKJ yeah that do be their dynamic lolol. and thank you!! i too think i snapped on that one 😩😩 glad others agree ahahah

i actually haven’t really seen him in combat... and when we could trial him i was too busy trying to pass the quests to focus on how he fought fhdkfhsdkfjshf but i do think his abilities are cool!! he have wolf above head 🥺

YEAHHH BOYEEEEEEEEEEE god that reminds me of a scene from a drarry fic (What We Pretend We Can't See wink wonk)

oh damn!! hope they restock soon for your sake~ yissss ive watched a playthrough and omg lev.... my Son. i don’t think i can find the memes again but it was just about the bugs like how if you throw a grenade on the highway everyone will run out of their cars like a flashmob or something hfskfhsdjfkds. (LMAOOOOO) there’s actually a trailer with the other worlds! https://youtu.be/TAlKhARUcoY (it has spoilers tho supposedly lol. none we understand rn at least)

hdsfkhjs. omg you absolute legend!!!! but i also hope that you’re taking care of yourself and prioritising the important things too fhsfhdksdhf. but i am excited hehehehehe

AHHAAHKFHDSKJFSD pls... once i saw someone with an actual proper mullet on the bus and i was like “ew... keith would look like this irl?” FJSDHKFSAHKDASHDFSDJFKJFDSHFKJS. but what can i say i got influenced by all the kpop bois 😔 and hmmm idk? i think my dad didn’t care too much but ik my mum did/does fhsfskfsdfhkf so who knows lollllllllllllllllllllllllllllll. IT REALLY DOES GROW OUT LMAO LIKE. fhkshkfsdkj my cousin called me a rockstar when she saw it LOL so you’re prob right 🤪

yeah slow songs really just. aren’t LMAO ‘behind this mask of mine’ was based on a slow bts song and i put it in the playlist i had for it (bc obviously) but i wanted to skip it every time hfksjdhfskjdfhskfdkfhkslfhadksfjsdjhfkashkfjsdh. EXACTLY!!!!!!!!!! you are so correct. (hehehe i was gonna say that too that you don’t need to drive bc it’ll take you around 😏 LMAO)

fhkdsj thank!! legit pining iwa.......... more like pining ME mayhaps i just be self projecting 🤪🤪

lolol dw i can fight the hilichurls for you 😩 also who’s your fave enemy to fight! i used to like fighting the treasure hoarders most but the hilichurls are cute.. FHSKJDHFSDFKJSD plus i need their fucking masks my god why are their drop rates so shit hfsdhjfks

i’m not too sure actually? i’ve never been up early enough to test it but i like drinking tea like after dinner... which is the problem AHAHA. hmm well i like matcha a lot LOL but also chai? and then like black tea.... all the other ones too... i used to drink some fruity ones which were nice but we have a lot of the like basic chinese ones at home too and i enjoy those as well lol. wbu?? omg.... m.a........... dfhksdfkjhfkjshfksjd that’s a lot!!!!!!! do you even need to drink water then HKDSJFHKSDFHDKDSHFJKSDH

omg............. ive never seen euphoria LOL but ............. omg ...................... i cannot process thoughts rn.....

xoxo!! c.r. (you mean bc we’ll be playing co-op? you don’t have to if you’re uncomfy fhdskjf my genshin name was literally ‘aether’ up until yesterday FHDFHSDKFSDFJSHFKSDF)

#marriage anon #wowclunaanswers #long post

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hrmphfft · 4 years

Text

controversial opinion time I guess but

hey gang? hey, gang. gang, hey. blaming your fans for them not reblogging your content enough (and saying that they’re Directly Responsible For Tumblr Dying) is an extremely passive aggressive, mean thing to do, and also completely ignores so many other reasons as to why engagement has changed on this site and posts don't circulate like they used to.

for one thing, whenever I see these posts, I rarely see the ops acknowledge the HUGE HIT to tumblr's userbase following the 2018 policy change/implementation of tumblr's terrible content filtering algorithm. tumblr lost roughly 1/3 of its engagement (https://mashable.com/article/tumblr-lost-a-third-of-its-users-after-porn-ban/) and countless content creators with it. some of them migrated to twitter and other sites, some of them seem to have straight-up vanished into thin air, and countless others lost their biggest or main userbase with barely any time to shift gears to something else. that's a huge, website-shaking change! but so often in these 'reblogs vs. likes' posts I don't see anyone acknowledging that and it makes me really upset!

you can't talk about the ways tumblr has undoubtedly changed these last few years and NOT address the nsfw ban! it's completely unfair to your fanbases to shift the blame of the biggest displacement of users the site has ever experienced on...the users who had no say in the policy change and reacted accordingly when the site started softbanning everyone, and filtering all sorts of tags from the search function (including important sfw ones, lest we forget The Entire Furry Fandom on tumblr discovering that basic-ass tags like #furry and #anthro were being blocked when the ban rolled around), and making uploading anything vaguely beige-colored a dice roll. tumblr still hasn't recovered from that, and unfortunately probably never will, not without some hail mary of policy changes and overhauls.

I've seen some pretty ageist shit regarding content engagement as well that tries to paint younger users as just Not Getting how tumblr functions vs. other social media sites like instagram and twitter, and on top of that just showcasing a really uncomfortable disconnect/animosity towards new users whose only crime is being younger than op and also more experienced with other social media platforms, it also is just. it's really unkind? it's super rude? how can you call your followers too clueless to know how reblogging works and then expect them to support your content via reblogging and not feel like you're insulting them until they give you the result you want?

moreover, lots of young/new tumblr users get the gist of tumblr's controls and get it very quickly! technology literacy is becoming more and more a part of everyday life for everyone, and if you really think that a teenager can't understand that reblogging puts a thing on their follower's dashboards, one of the main functionalities of the site (and also very similar to twitter, one of tumblr's main competitors), I really don't know what to say. sometimes people just straight-up don't want to reblog stuff to their blogs, and that's okay.

there's also a tendency to ignore the ways that blogging on tumblr has changed as its userbase has became more well-versed in its functions and, frankly, a portion of the userbase has grown up on this site. when I first started blogging on here, I was 17, I didn't use tags, I commented unrelated (and frankly sometimes really regrettably rude) replies directly onto artist's posts, and I basically just reblogged whatever I vaguely liked, and a lot of things I didn't totally get but thought Looked Cool/Funny so I reblogged anyways.

and that's fine, that's pretty par for the course of being young on the internet and doing whatever you want and having a good time (barring the rudeness, being respectful to people is the ideal), but as time went on my interests changed, my time spent online changed (I went from highschool to college to a full-time job that limits my time on social media), and I began engaging with tumblr's content differently. I made sideblogs for interests and content themes I didn't want on my main blog, I started liking stuff and then going back through my likes to reblog posts later, and generally speaking my number of posts a day dropped and I stopped being able to catch up on my dashboard every single day. and I'm sure my experience isn't unique for some other people on here.

a lot of the tumblr users I've known for a while just don't have the same level of intensity in fandoms like we did years back, not because of any malice or selfish, content-hogging intent, but because our priorities have changed. I definitely miss a lot of things about years past on tumblr when fandoms were booming and new Big Name Creators were cropping up all the time, and to be fair that's still happening on parts of the site if you know where to look! it's just different now. time has passed. people have changed!

that isn't to be defeatist and say that we can't show up for content we enjoy and reblog it, but instead that people can feel differently about stuff they used to adore, and be more particular about one thing or another they reblog, and straight-up miss stuff that they would have really liked but just didn't catch up on for a myriad of reasons. and that's also okay. engagement on tumblr is really, really tied up in personal preferences, and sometimes it feels like it does that more than most other social media sites. this is kind of the wild west of internet presences and everyone operates differently on here as a result.

and probably the most touchy point of all: no one is obligated to give you validation on the internet. no one. not even if they've read all of your fanfics you've worked really fucking hard on for forever and a day, or your comics that you've spent months, years, a lifetime researching and creating, or your beautifully, painstakingly timed and masked fan videos. they can absolutely consume any of these, and more, and they're still not obligated to reblog your work or promote you. it's not fair, yes, and it's completely understandable and super relatable to want recognition for the work you've done and the ways you've brightened other people's lives, but online most of your fans are still total strangers to you, and trying to control the behavior of total strangers because you’re owed their acknowledgement isn’t a healthy mindset to have.

and you can say that any fan of yours stops being a fan after they drop you for you lashing out at them for not unquestioningly giving you space on their blogs like you're owed, but being upset at being accused of bad behavior for what amounts to not wanting to reblog something this time around and changing your opinions based off of that is also a very understandable thing to do.

and that isn't because of any sort of innate cruelty, or pointed attack towards you. it's just because there is always a disconnect between the creator and the creation, and some people will never bridge that gap and engage with you more, or build a parasocial relationship with you, or seek out ways to support you. and plenty of others will do the exact opposite! it's a total dice roll because you're dealing with a lot more people than you realize scrolling past your content, and every person is different, and some of them don't fully understand how reblogs help a creator, and some of them do but just don't want that content on their feed, and none of them are inherently bad people for that.

I'm not saying creators have to be perfectly kind and civil and praise their fans all the time, but when you engage with your followers like it's a battle where you have to keep devising new ways to get them to share your content, it just comes across as super disingenuous, and people cop to that very fast.

it also, frankly, can make longtime fans who reblog your work regularly feel like their interest doesn't matter, and wasn't good enough, and that then it really is their fault that other people (other STRANGERS ON THE INTERNET) don't engage with your content the way you wanted them to. you don't owe them perfection, but that doesn't mean it isn't still an unkind thing to do.

so like. what can we do about this?

asking users to reblog your work is totally fine and can help! calls to action work more than nothing at all. it's possible to be respectful when asking people to reblog your work without also guilt-tripping them with "likes < reblogs" banners and passive aggressive tags/comments. generally speaking guilt is a really shitty motivational tool, and tends to breed more resentment than actual outcomes people want. like this post for example! I wouldn't have sat down and typed this all out if I didn't resent the hell out of being told I'm, personally, the reason tumblr is demonstrably not an ideal website for building a fanbase anymore. if I had that much power over this website I would have given the whole thing to the xkit team years ago and reveled in a functional website instead.

changing the way you post content might help! every site has its ideal posting days, times, and reasons for why some are ideal for one site and not another. doing a little research (https://sproutsocial.com/insights/best-times-to-post-on-social-media/) will yield some potentially helpful tips and tricks that might result in a post reaching more people. utilizing tumblr's search function is also important, and understanding the limits of the tag function (ie. only the first 5 tags of a post are used for tag searches) can help change one's habits to something a little more effective. this is why I tend to leave my tag babbling until after the main fandom/category tags on my posts, so that tumblr's jankass search has a better shot, haha

broadening your online presence can definitely help! this is by far the most terrifying option since it involves branching out onto other social media platforms, some of which really don't lend themselves to whatever fandom/content one produces, so like the other two above it's only a suggestion.

I keep coming back to twitter and instagram, but that's mainly because they're the two other powerhouses of social media right now, though admittedly they only really cater towards visual media (and mainly imagery, not longer video pieces), and they have their own weird quirks to learn and jank to deal with. but given how precarious tumblr's status has become in some ways, trying to build a presence on multiple sites means that you reach more people across the internet, and also means that if tumblr does yet another website-shattering policy change, your eggs aren't all in one basket.

of course these options aren't foolproof, and won't work for everyone in some cases or not at all for others, but my main point in all this is this: tumblr has irrevocably changed, its userbase has changed, and we are limited in the ways we can directly influence it, but there are still options. I'm by far not a social media expert, but then again none of the posts I've seen so far were made by social media experts either, so I honestly don't feel too bad for throwing my hat into the ring while we're all thrashing about in confusion

y'all aren't wrong that things have changed, but I'm begging you to have some compassion and to try not to turn the relationship between creators and consumers of content into a battleground, especially when a lot of the influences on these changes are things entirely outside of any of our's direct control.

also because it makes y'all sound exactly like this:

#long post #site engagement #a big long pissy rant because I am so goddamned tired y'all #especially because I can't escape these Hot Takes because none of them are tagged consistently #and new ones keep cropping up all the time #it's like whack-a-mole #every post I block sprouts another a few months later #tone doesn't carry through the internet very well but rest assured when I see shit like this #paired with people's screenshots of their like/reblog ratios #and it turning into a 'u think those notes are small check this out' party I get #really goddamned fed up with it #this is of course not comprehensive and mainly just me whingeing @ the whingeing but sometimes u just gotta

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alwaysforyouscully · 5 years

Text

My X-FEST 2 Experience!

Friends and followers this was truly a pleasure. I was only able to go on Saturday but my X-Files heart is full with great memories!

Here's my recap on one excellent day, we (my daughter and I) got our passes and went to the hotel restaurant to eat breakfast. I heard Mitch before I say him. He was at the table next to us and about 15 minutes later Nick came down and joined him. I never thought the back of their heads would be exciting but...

Anyhoo... we go inside the hall and everyone is in their booth. This was really well organized, plenty of space and easy access to whomever you wanted to see. Everyone when straight to the Gunmen and Nick so I went to Sheila:

I was her first autograph of the day and she was sorry she only had a black pen. She asked her assistant if she should have a lighter pen. I said it's no problem just meeting her was great. She said "I hate this picture." I said oh no, it's how I'll always remember you and she said "You know I still have this jacket in my closet." I was like really, do you ever wear it? And we both laughed, I'm not sure why? Lol 😂

Next I went to see Annabeth:

There were a few folks in line and when it was my turn for an autograph, she looked up and saw my shirt. She said "That's me! Where did you get this?" I told her off the internet and she grabbed her phone and told her assistant to take a picture. Just a note, she is lovely! And from this point forward we will have the 'That's Annabeth' count. This is 1.

When I walked into my photo op she grabbed my hand and said "It's you! I sent our picture to my husband and he said where did she get that? It's great!" Again she is a freaking gem!

Okay next was Mitch. As most of you know in April of 2018 I went to South Texas CC to see Mitch and he got the flu and cancelled 😣. My daughter felt so bad for me that she sent him a message on Twitter. He sent her a PM back and said he would send me some cool stuff...he did and after his last message to her he deleted his Twitter. So on to current day.

I get in line and my daughter is at a side table organizing my pictures. The lovely @jenniferalarza painted a piece for me plus I had JJ Lendl's "Kitten" poster for him to sign. When I got to the table I showed Mitch the envelope of all the things he mailed me last April. He was shocked and said "You came all the way here from Texas?" (He remembered 🤗 ) I told him I had to meet him and pointed to my daughter and said she's the one that sent you the message, then you quit sm. He was looking at the painting and without looking up he said, "Yep, she's the reason I quit." He laughed and I said she really thinks it's true. He came around the table and without slowing down, he headed towards her saying "I'm going to tell her it was because of her that I quit" He got to her and I couldn't hear what he said but she flushed and kind of teared up. Next he pulled her into a hug and headed back to the signing table. He signed both pieces then stopped. He said "She really thought she was the reason? Damn, I'm so sorry." Now I was tearing up. 😥

Mitch was the last photo op on Saturday and I still had 3 tickets left. My daughter and I decided to each take one individually and one together. Mitch saw us and we did the group pic first. He put his arms around us and said "We finally made it!" Yes Mitch, we did. Thanks 😘

Mark Snow was next to Frank Spotnitz and both of their lines were consistent but not too long. I owed the beautiful @dontpointdownthere a favor so we went to Mark next.

The favor was to ask about the song playing on the jukebox in "Dreamland ll" when Mulder and Joann, then Morris and Joann are at the bar. I asked Mark if he knew the song and he couldn't remember so he called over to Frank and asked him. I described it as best I could but Frank couldn't remember either. Sad news for @dontpointdownthere . 😥

I went to Mark's panel and I got the lyrics in the mean time. Frank was at the panel too so I showed him the lyrics and he took a picture with his phone. I met back up with Mark later and showed him the lyrics and along with the folks in line we tried to jar his memory. No joy but it was fun trying!

After the lunch break it was off to the Lone Gunmen. Again @jenniferalarza did a beautiful piece for me, so on to the signing:

Tom was first, he was very sweet and loved the painting. After folks in line heard it was fanart, they all wanted to see it. Everyone was very impressed!

Bruce was next and he was, umm, more like Byers than I thought he would be. First words upon seeing my shirt, "That's Annabeth" (that makes 2) He looked at the picture then asked my name. He said "This is really good, lots of fan art isn't, lots and lots are terrible." He started to sign and put my name at the top then stopped and signed his name at the bottom. "Oops! I forgot what I was going to say." Oh well, guess we'll never know Bruce!

Dean was last and his line had been the longest most of the day. I heard him talking with a fan while I was waiting for Mitch and he was telling her how he does pet portraits now. He even pulled out his phone and gave her an impromptu art show! Lol When I walked up he said "Hi! Is this Annabeth? (#3) and I said sure is. So I handed him the painting and he was about to sign then asked "Is this a print on canvas?" I told him it was the original and he was upset about signing it. I said no, please sign it, that's why my friend painted it for me so the three of you could sign it! He was just floored and started asking how much it cost, was it commissioned, how much was shipping from Spain and on and on. He said "I'm doing portraits now so I need to know these things."

His photo op was the last of the Lone Gunmen. The lines for the photos went super fast. Each person was given a 15 minute slot and none used all of the time. I went in and he said "That really is Annabeth!" No joke (this was 4). And just before we took the picture the photographer said hold up a second we're moving a little fast. Talk amongst yourselves. Dean said "So, Annabeth huh? You got this off the internet? I don't know if this really looks like her. Look at that chin, her skin is too dark, the forehead is all wrong. You know it doesn't really look like her at all." (I'm counting this as 5) I laughed and said, I guess not but she liked it. "Oh gosh, she's seen it?" Yep and she took a picture of it too! By now the photographer was ready and off I went.

Nick's photo op was after the Gunmen:

I walked in and I shit you not he said "That's Annabeth!" (Up to 6) Yes, she really loved it. He put his hand out to shake mine "What's your name, we haven't met today" I said, No not yet, you've been too busy. "For you? Never." I did swoon, just saying because the gray scruff is working for him.

While I waited for the photo my daughter went to his table to wait in line, when I got there she was the only one there so perfect timing. He showed up about 10 minutes later and we walked up. He greeted my daughter and there was a card on the table for the 'I wanna believe' X-Files parody show and she asked if he'd seen it. He said "Not yet but it's going to be on YouTube so I'll watch it later." My daughter told him it was worth his time and really funny. I told him Krycek had an important role so he needed to check it out 😊! He signed my picture and called over to Annabeth, she was next to him, "Hey, you saw this?" pointing to my shirt. She said "Yes, isn't it fantastic!" (I'm counting this as 7)

Chris Owens was my last autograph of the day:

This guy is priceless, so warm and funny. He was telling a story about David to another fan when we walked up. He told them that David had called him to come back for S11 because he wouldn't have to put all that shit on his face this time! Lol I guess that worked 😂!

I picked the Postmodern Prometheus pic for him to sign and said I know it's not your best face but I loved this episode. He laughed and said "don't be so sure, this was one of my best." He got up from the table and gave me a hug. I was just in shock by his kindness!

That's finally it folks. A great day all around and an Annabeth shirt that will never live down it's fame!

Thanks for a great day X-Fest2!

And don't forget to check out @iwannabelieveparody 's YouTube channel to see this awesome show!

#the x files #x-fest2 #mitch pileggi #dean haglund #bruce harwood #tom braidwood #nick lea #annabeth gish #mark snow #chris rogers #sheila larken #i wanna believe

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emma-nation · 5 years

Text

Thinking Of You (Mona x MC Fanfiction) - Chapter 2

You said move on Where do I go? I guess second best Is all I will know

Summary: Years later, Allison has everything she wants, a brand-new internship as a doctor, a handsome boyfriend… but her first nightshift won’t go as expected…

Genre: Romance, Angst

Tag list: @zoe6111, @simsvetements, @mvrinettes, @whoinvitedalx, @scarlet-letter-a0114, @abunchofbadchoices, @kamilahmademedoit, @janurary, @talkinlikeateen, @eagle-one-1, @andreear17, @tia-bi, @monagf, @monahott (let me know if you want to be tagged!)

Notes:

- English is my second language, please forgive me for any mistakes.

- It’s my first time writing this pairing so, I hope you like it :)

“It’s like a long drive… You just… keep your foot on the gas. For hundreds of miles, this country looks like the same thing. Nothing changes… But if you just… keep your foot on the gas… eventually, you’ll find yourself a thousand miles away… somewhere better than you’ve ever been. And you barely remember where you came from.”

Allison spent the entire night thinking. Part of her wanted to give up, go to Dr. Carlson’s office and ask him to get her out of Mona’s case. But the other part, that same part that enjoyed the adrenaline of being part of Mercy Park Crew, eight years ago, wanted to stay and see where that new wild road would take her…

Before leaving bed to get ready for work, her phone started buzzing. It was Griffin. He was unexpectedly assigned for a special charity work in Africa and wanted to see her for dinner, before his departure.

“It’s better this way,” Allison thought. “So he won’t notice the mess inside my head.”

After getting dressed, she headed downstairs. Her breakfast, as usual, was waiting for her. Dad though, was caught in a what seemed an important phone call.

“Another one?!” He asked. “I’ll be in the office as soon as possible. They’re definitely related…”

He hung up.

“Morning, dad. Working already?”

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he joined her at the table. “No, it’s just a new case… These college kids, losing their minds over… nevermind, let’s talk about your job. How is it been going?”

“Different from what I expected,” she took a sip of her coffee, trying to hide her discomfort.

“In a good or a bad way?”

“Hmmm… both.”

She told him about a few of the cases she had seen and other interns she met. As dad seemed happy and relaxed, she found a perfect opportunity to get into the subject she intended to.

“Yeah, I can’t believe I almost threw it all away for… Speaking of which, have you heard anything about them? MPC, I mean.”

Her question almost made her father choke with his coffee. His expression quickly changed.

“Why are you asking? I hope none of them contacted you, now you’re back in LA.”

“N-No,” Allison tried to calm him. “I was just wondering.”

“Good, because if any of them try to mess with your head again, I’ll make sure they’ll never leave jail in this lifetime.”

The mood between them became tense. Allison decided to leave earlier for work, but before, she grabbed something in her bedroom.

———-

Empty. Mona’s room was empty. A hint of disappointment appeared in Allison’s face. She had probably ran away like she always did, for multiple reasons, including the fact she was assigned as her doctor.

“This is it. She has completely moved on and maybe I should too.”

“Looking for me, Doc?” A known voice behind her made her freeze in place.

“Mona,” she turned around to face her. She was returning from a vending machine, bringing some candy. “Hey, you're not supposed to have any of these!”

Mona shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed and opening a chocolate bar.

“Whatever, my body will be getting rid of it real soon,” her expression darkened.

“This is why you must go through this surgery as soon as possible. I spoke to my supervisor and the rest of the team, we’ve scheduled it for this evening.”

For the next minutes Allison explained her the procedure, the treatment and the post-op.

“What about the risks?” Mona wanted to know.

“The risks are minor. They’re definitely higher if you don’t treat it immediately. This lesion could become worse, compromising your liver functions and leading to hepatic failure.”

When she finished, Mona let out a little laugh.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing, just seeing you talking in all these medical terms and acting professional. It’s kinda hot.”

Allison felt her cheeks burning.

“Mona!”

“Oh, I forgot about Mr. Diamond there,” she pointed to her engagement ring.

“It’s not…” Allison sighed. “There’s a thing called doctor-patient protocol.”

“I don’t usually follow protocols. Otherwise…” she pointed to the gunshot wound in her abdomen, “I wouldn’t be here, right after earning my freedom.”

“So, you’ve just left prison,” Allison sat on the armchair next to her bed.

“It has been two weeks. Going through a surgery is the last thing I expected to do. It’d be so unfair if I died now.”

“D-Don’t say that, okay? The risks are minor! It’s not a complex surgery.”

“Relax,” Mona grinned again. “I was only toying with you, Doc. I still intend to be around for a while. Especially now…”

She said the last two words staring directly into her eyes, what made Allison’s stomach flip. After a quiet moment, she broke the silence, wondering if she was about to do the right thing.

“I brought you something… to bring good luck,” from her pocket, she handed Mona the fuzzy dice she gave her, years ago. She looked surprised.

“You still have it.”

Allison nodded.

“You weren’t able to forget this face at all, were you?”

“How could…” her pager beeping interrupted what she was about to say. “I’m sorry, I must check another patient now. If I don’t see you again before your surgery, I just wanted you to know I wish you good luck.”

“Thank you, Allison,” Mona smiled. That smile Allison knew very well. “Anyways, in either case, I win. If I die, the last thing I’ve seen is your pretty face so…”

Allison let out a nervous laugh and shook her head. Before she left, Mona called her again, swaying the dice playfully between her fingers.

“Hey Doc, I’ve got a 6-6, it seems like I’m going to live after all.”

“I’m definitely hoping so.”

———-

"Allison?” Griffin’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “Is everything alright? You’ve barely touched your food.”

“Y-Yeah, I’m just…” Allison sighed. “My very first patient is having a surgery right now and I’m quite worried.”

He touched her hand in a comforting, reassuring manner.

“Hey, it’s like my father always says, you cannot allow yourself to get so attached. The less attached you get, sooner these feelings will go away.”

“I know, but I just can’t treat it like it’s nothing. It’s a life and it matters to me.”

“It’s only because it’s your first case. You’ll get used with time.”

“Or maybe I’m in the wrong career,” Allison thought, nervously checking her pager again.

They entered Griffin’s car, but instead of driving her home, he was driving somewhere else.

“Where are we going?”

“I prepared you a surprise. Maybe it can help you to relax a little.”

When he parked at the entrance of The Palmer hotel, she knew it not only wouldn’t relax her, but it’d make her more tense. That place brought her a lot of memories…

“You really want me, don’t you? I can tell.”

“Did you like it?” Griffin asked as he opened the door of the most luxurious suite. “We still haven’t had a chance of properly celebrating our engagement.”

From behind, he moved her hair aside, exposing her neck and planting soft kisses on her skin. It made her shiver, not like before, but in an uncomfortable manner. Just like when they started dating and she was still getting used to the idea he was her only and best option at the moment. When she was forcing herself to develop an affection for him, trying to sink what was left of those feelings Mona once called ’an illusion’, ’a blanket’.

“I wish you had consulted me first about this,” she took a step away from him.

“Come on, baby. You always liked surprises.”

She sat down at the bed, looking at her pager again. No news were a sign of good news. In case anything had gone wrong, her presence would be requested. Griffin approached, kissing her cheek as his hand caressed her tight.

“Look, Griff,” Allison took a deep breath. “I know you had planned a special night for us and that you’ll be out of the country for weeks, but… I’m not really in the mood. This is really consuming me right now. I’m so sorry.”

“Okay,” she noticed he had a little bit of frustration in his voice. “So let’s talk about this patient, if it’s going to make you feel better.”

“Uh, it’s a… woman. She has a lesion on her liver, from a previous gunshot wound that wasn’t properly treated.”

Griffin’s eyes widened a little in surprise.

“Wait, is it the ex-con my father was talking about? Her presence is causing a huge buzz at the hospital, the nurses keep gossiping she used to be part of a gang and she’s extremely dangerous. I can’t believe he assigned you to this case!”

“And I can’t honestly believe what I’m hearing…” she got up, headed to the window. “Extremely dangerous,” she shook her head in denial.

“Promise me you’ll be careful, just in case. If you want I can talk to my father, tell him you didn’t know…”

“Yes, I did know and it doesn’t change anything! About the ‘extremely dangerous’ part, it depends on how you see it. My father is a detective and I’ve seen people that are truly evil and never went to jail!”

She grabbed her purse and headed to the door.

“Allison, come on,” Griffin held her arm, trying to stop her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound nasty or anything, but that chick has a bad reputation.”

Allison opened her mouth in shock. She never expected that behavior from such a kind-hearted person as her fiancée.

“I couldn’t care less about her reputation, I care about her life. I’m going back to the hospital.”

“Stay here with me,” he embraced her. “Only for a few minutes. We can cuddle and talk about our future, like old times.”

“Our future. Of course.”

Resting her head on Griffin’s chest, while he spoke about his mission in Africa and the plans for their engagement party when he returned, Allison thought about her own future. Her apartment, her insecurities about her career and… Mona.

She remembered how Langston and being a doctor became her dream after her mother passed away. She wanted to go to the same University as her mom and make a difference saving lives. Unlike hers, that couldn’t be saved.

But… would her dreams have been the same, if her mom had survived that car crash?

———-

Wiping some tears from her face, she left the hospital’s chapel, where she said a prayer for Mona’s life and asked for guidance. She had just sat at the waiting room when a surgeon came to meet her.

“Dr. Wheeler?” He said. “Everything went as expected. The patient is recovering in her room.”

“Are you sure?” She wanted to know. “Because when she was shot, after the bullet was removed, she had internal bleeding in the middle of the night and nearly died. She spent two weeks in coma.”

“We’ll ask a nurse to monitor her closer.”

“I can do it myself.”

She didn’t want to go home anyways. She wouldn’t be able to sleep. After drinking a massive cup of coffee, she walked to Mona’s room. Though she was unconscious, her vitals were good and strong. Allison approached the bed, squeezing her hand softly. Noticing several new scars on her skin, she wondered what she had gone through during all those years.

She sat down at the armchair near the bed, monitoring her breathing and how she slowly started moving her hands and legs. Tired, she eventually drifted off.

Hours later, she woke up in a hurry, scared by the beeping sound of a monitor.

“Relax, gorgeous. It was the guy next door, it seems like things went bad for him.”

Hearing Mona’s drowsy and weak voice made her heartbeats return to normal. She took a deep breath, recomposing herself.

“Please, tell me you didn’t stay here all night.”

“N-No,” Allison lied. “I arrived earlier, to check another patient. I sat down here and fell asleep.”

“In my room?” Mona raised an eyebrow.

“Fine… I was worried, okay?” Allison finally admitted, as it was obvious Mona woke up before she did. “I was reading your chart, about your previous surgery and I was afraid to leave you unsupervised.”

“VIP treatment? I like it.”

Allison stood up and started to examine her and ask questions.

“How are you feeling?”

“Still high on meds, so I’m feeling nothing. I was having some nice dreams though,” she grinned broadly. “I was still a goody two-shoes teenager in Bronx, I got a crappy job on a fast-food restaurant to help my mom… my grades dropped, yet, I was such a nerd they granted me a full scholarship in Langston and then… I met you.”

Allison quite didn’t know what to say.

“It’s… uh, an interesting dream.”

“Do you wonder sometimes? How it could’ve been… if you had chosen a different path?”

“Sometimes,” Allison answered. “Right now, for example, I’m wondering if I picked the right career. I don’t feel I’m gonna be a good doctor.”

“You’ve just saved me.”

“No, I only diagnosed you. The surgeons did the rest, and you. You survived.”

They both laughed. Then Mona touched her hand.

“Man, instead of taking you to that stupid prom, I should have ran away with you.”

Their eyes locked for a moment. Allison didn’t pull away for a few seconds, enjoying the contact of Mona’s touch. Then, she sighed and cleared her throat.

“Doctor-patient protocol, remember?”

“Yeah… forget what I’ve just said, I’m high on meds anyways.”

She yawned, before closing her eyes and going back to sleep.

———-

The following days passed quickly, while Allison was busy most of the time, she’d often sneak into Mona’s room. She was showing good signs of recovery, being her usual self, complaining about the nurses and the hospital food. That morning, Allison received the news she was ready to be discharged.

“Morning, I’m bringing you the news you’ve been waiting for.”

“Am I finally be able to eat anything I want?”

“Uhhh no, but… your latest exams came just fine and you can go home, with some restrictions.”

“What kind of them?”

“You’ll need a lot of resting, no physical effort for a couple of months and you’ll need a special diet for a while. It’s all here in this paper.”

Mona read the instructions carefully before bursting into laughs.

“Yeah, I’m sure they’ll provide all of this in the streets and the shelter I sleep at night.”

#playchoices #choices stories you play #ride or die #mona #mona x mc #mona rod #ride or die fanfiction

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