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aerynwrites · 2 years

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Afterlife

Silco x Fem!Reader

A/N: I’ve had this idea for months now and had a few spare moments today to bust out a little drabble. I hope you all enjoy and as usual, comments/reblogs are very very appreciated! I love to read what you guys think 🥰

Word Count: 857

*Sorry for any errors I edited this myself so may have missed some things*

Silco never thought much about the afterlife. Never pondered much if there was one or if it was all just empty black space when one meets their end.

Even if there is one, he’s certain he would not be permitted through the golden gates.

Not after everything he’s done.

Yet…as he sits here - blood dripping from his lips, soaking his clothes and his daughter crying at his feet…

He silently hopes there is a life after death.

He knows he’s going to die. He can feel the life seeping out of him like liquid from a spilled glass.

His skin is cold. It hurts to take in a breath and speak what he knows will be his final words. Trying in vain to comfort the last living person that he cares for.

He hopes there’s an afterlife, not only so he can see Jinx again someday…but maybe - if there is in fact a life after death - he will see you soon.

You.

The love of his life.

Taken from him just a few short years ago when a rogue chembaron thought he could use you as leverage against him.

Once again his work had ruined a beautiful thing.

The pain in death isn’t what he thought it would be.

Maybe it's the adrenaline.

Or maybe it’s the dying urge to comfort his daughter in his last moments.

The girl you both raised together. The girl who’s tears soak through his trousers as she begs for forgiveness that’s already been given.

“I never would have given you to them. Not for anything.” He can feel it now. The end finally closing in around him.

“Don’t cry…” he mumbles, using the last of his breath to reassure her. “You’re perfect.”

The end is what hurts worse. And no, not the physical pain from the bullets that tore through him.

But the pain of leaving his child alone, not knowing what will happen.

That fear and pain is the last thing he feels as the last of his life leaves him and everything is black.

For a moment there’s nothing. It’s as if he blinked out of existence for an undetermined amount of time until a soft pinprick of light permeates the inky blackness.

His name - airy and far away - echoes around the empty space.

Is he alive? It’s the only thing he can think as the light gets brighter, and the voice louder.

Pure shock washes through him as the voice calls out to him again, the light now almost blinding and he finds himself pushing away the hope that swells in his chest.

Until finally his entire world explodes in a brilliant white light and there’s no doubt whose calling out to him.

A hand - your hand - reaches out from the wall of light that still blinds him.

Immediately he slides his hand into your own, choking on so many built up emotions at the familiar softness of your palm against his.

“Wh-what’s happening?” He asks, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light until you appear fully in front of him.

You’re just as beautiful as the day he lost you, and he can’t stop himself from reaching out for you.

Your cheek is soft beneath his fingers, your smile wide as you step closer to him, eyes sparkling.

“I’ve been waiting,” You say simply, a sad smile overtaking your happy one. “But I didn’t think I’d see you so soon.”

His fingers thread through your hair before trailing down your neck to rest against your shoulder.

“This isn’t real.” He murmurs, eyes trailing over your form. “This is a terrible dream before I die, isn’t it? Some sick joke being played on me for all the evil I’ve done.”

He clutches you tightly, pulling you into his chest with arms wound snugly around you. Afraid that if he lets go he won’t ever see you again.

You laugh against him, your lips brushing his neck as you speak.

“It’s not a trick,” you assure him, pulling away just enough you can look into his eyes. “Gods, I missed you so much, Sil.”

Silco has only cried once. And that was the day you left him.

And now that you’re here before him again, he feels the unfamiliar sting of tears burning at his eyes.

“I never…I never thought I’d see you again.” He says honestly, still in awe that you’re here before him.

You smile.

“Well you’re here. And now we have eternity together.”

“Eternity?”

You nod, before you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

He turns to kiss you properly, but stops short when his mind calls back to the person he left behind.

“And Jinx?”

Another sad smile. “We’ll wait for her. Just like I waited for you.”

Silco can’t wait any longer. You’ve both waited long enough.

His lips meet yours in passionate kiss, drinking each other in after so many years apart.

Silco didn’t believe it before…but he’s never been more happy to be wrong.

He has you back - and one day Jinx will be here too.

Then, you’ll be a family again.

Just like it’s meant to be.

#arcane silco x reader #silco x reader #arcane x reader #arcane silco #silco #arcane #arcane league of legends

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yougottalovekyloren · 4 years

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Across the Stars (Part 13)

A/N: Hi Friends! Long time no see :) Life has been nuts and I had to move home from college because of COVID-19, so writing hasn’t been of top priority. BUT, I am getting back into it now :) I decided to publish pt. 13 of Across the Stars (which I wrote about 6 years ago and had to edit for a solid hour XD) and finallllly work with it again. But I am in the process of working on other shorter piece (one shot or mini series). When that will be released is undetermined thus far. But, as always, thank you for reading, and I will see you next update :)

-M <3

Ben's POV

I sat rigid in my seat, my helmet over my head as we made our final descent back to the base

I had spent hours thinking of what to do, when we would leave, how much preparation we needed. But Y/N insisted that we didn't need to figure it all out now.

We had time.

After much convincing on her part, I finally let it go (for now) and enjoyed the last few days that we had left in true freedom before we were required to return.

Y/N's father was far from upset as he watched us leave, which I had assumed would have an impact on her. But, to my surprise, she just turned and walked away, not saying a single word of goodbye to anyone aside from her mother. And now we were here, going back to the darkness, once again.

"The Supreme Leader wants to have a word with you. I will take the prisoner." Phasma informed me quietly as we landed and the door opened. I nodded silently, and handed Y/N to her. I walked away, not looking at her leading Y/N away.

You will be okay, I promise. I'll stop by after I see the Supreme Leader.

I snuck one glance over my shoulder as I directed my thoughts towards her.

Okay.

I let out a small sigh, before turning and continuing my dreaded journey to Snoke's throne room. After stopping to take a deep breath, I opened the door and walked inside. But, instead of finding him sitting on his throne, I found empty space. No one was here. "Where-"

"On a different planet." A hologram of Snoke appeared. "Urgent matters are at hand. But tell me, what did you learn from your visit?"

The one thing that I had insisted over practicing was a story to cover over what had actually happened. I had spent time, trying to cover any cracks that might weaken my story, and expose the truth. I could only pray that he would believe it. As soon as I finished, he gave a small chuckle.

"Kylo Ren... you have always been a good liar."

"W-What?" Fear drenched me like a bucket of cold ice water.

"Watch this video, and let's see if you have any edits to your story."

A second hologram appeared, playing a previously recorded video. It showed Phasma leading Y/N to her cell, as she had informed me. Before they arrived, a group of three to four Stormtroopers arrived and created a circle around Y/N.

A sinking feeling of dread and fear began to rip apart my facade as I watched Phasma take a step back from her and give a command. They began to attack her. Roughly. Mercilessly. For a few moments, she remained silent. But it didn’t take long for her to begin to plead for mercy and as time went on, her begging turned into sobs of pain.

Blood spilled down her face, and I felt whatever resolve I still had to begin to shatter. Hot tears streamed down my face, and I resisted the urge to rip off my helmet and wipe them away. A moment later, the video died away and it was silent.

"Anything you wish to tell me... Kylo Ren?" Snoke sneered.

The doors behind me opened and I turned around to see Phasma with Y/N behind her. She was still bleeding and her clothing was starting to tear. Her left eye was swollen shut and bruises speckled across her skin. Softly, in the dead silence, I could hear her begin to wheeze. I squeezed my fists tightly in an attempt to control myself from killing Phasma, and doing likewise to the rest of the troopers and Snoke himself.

"The Stormtroopers saw you on Jakku. An intimacy that couldn’t be held by anyone except lovers. "

"You say love is weak..." I began shakily. "But I disagree."

"Take that ridiculous thing off and say that again to my face!" Snoke snarled. "You are the very definition of weakness!"

"No!" I yelled, as I ripped off my helmet. "I am not weak. Y/N saved me from the monster I was!"

"You will always be a monster!" Snoke laughed darkly. "You killed your own father." I gritted my teeth at the memory. I could never relive the past and do things differently, but I did not want to continue down this road. And I believed that was something my father would have wanted.

"I will no longer be a part of your game. I refuse to fight for you anymore."

"Then you are of no use to me!" He hissed.

"Fine." I turned my back to him, and stalked towards Phasma. I pulled out my lightsaber. "Move."

"I can't believe it." She spat. "You... You fell in love... with this prisoner, of all people."

"Move, Phasma. I don't want to kill you!" I whispered.

"No." She hissed. I grabbed her arm and slammed her hard into the wall.

"Do not follow us." I growled before pushing away from her. I quickly went to Y/N's side. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your f-fault." She whispered softly.

"We need to go."

"What about the light-"

"We will figure it out once we are out of reach." I quickly put her arm around my shoulders, to help her walk. "We won't argue about this now." Before Y/N could protest, the door swooshed open again and twenty Stormtroopers entered, their guns locked on us.

"Give up your weapons, and your lives will be spared." Phasma snarled. Her guns was pointed directly at Y/N's head.

"Drop the gun."

"You do not give orders around here anymore, Ren! I will shoot her if you do not lay down your lightsaber. Now!" She snarled at me, tightening her grip on Y/N's neck. "Drop it. Now!"

I did as she said.

"Search the girl." Two Stormtroopers held my arms back as another two grabbed Y/N and began to search her for weapons.

"Stop being an idiot." The Supreme Leader snarled, as he watched all of this go down. "Kill the prisoner, and everything will be as it was."

"I don't want this." I spat.

"We will discuss in greater detail about what is to happen when I return." The hologram disappeared. The Stormtroopers led us out, and to the cells. Y/N was exhausted, looking as if she'd collapse at any moment. She tripped at one points and a Stormtrooper grasped her by the neck.

"Watch it, girl."

After numerous turns down familiar halls, we reached the holding cells.

"You will be sharing a cell." Phasma snarled. "Snoke's orders." A small flood of relief overflowed me at her words. At least we he had this. "Get in."

Silently, I walked in and a moment later, Y/N was shoved inside. "You are both now prisoners of the First Orders. Punishments will be dealt out when the Supreme Leader returns." Without another word, Phasma stalked out and the door shut and locked.

A small groan escaped Y/N's lips and a second later, her body began to drop. I darted forward and caught her before she hit the floor.

"I saw the video." I whispered, holding her in my arms. "As soon as we get out, I will kill-"

"No." Her response shocked me.

"What?"

"No." Y/N croaked. "That's what Kylo Ren would do. Not Ben Solo. Not my Ben. Their deaths won't change a thing."

"This wasn't supposed too happen." I felt my throat grow tight with emotion. "You were not supposed to get hurt."

"I'll heal. Don't worry about me." Y/N smiled softly. "It could've been worse. I could've been killed instead."

"Don't talk like that." I scolded gently, touching her hand that rested gently on my face.

"It could’ve been a reality." Y/N smiled sadly. "We all die someday."

"You will not be dying anytime soon." I kissed her forehead gently. "I'll make sure of it."

"Ben, you have to leave this place. You need to go home to your Mother." Y/N whispered. "And in order for that to be even a possibility, I...I can’t be here anymore. At least, I can’t be physically here anymore."

"Stop." I sat her up, pulling her head to my chest. "No more."

"I want you to be happy."

"You make me happy." I kissed her head. "You and only you."

Y/N lifted her head up to look at me. "You won't be able to get out." She began to sniffle, holding back tears.

"If I'm with you... it won't matter. You're all I need." Before she could respond, I kissed her fiercely. I pulled away a moment later. "Sleep. We need to rest."

And with that... our first of many dreadful days had come to pass.

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#ben #bensolo #ben solo x female reader #ben solo x reader #ben solo x y/n #Kylo #kylo ren #kyloren #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren x reader #kylo redemption #kylo x you #kylo x reader

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rubberchickeny · 5 years

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Jaime/Brienne prompt in ASOIAF (book) verse!

I wanted to stretch my writing muscles and do a prompt in the ASOIAF universe rather than GoT or mod AU. I likeblue prompted me with first kiss and defending honor, and I of course used the opportunity to write Hyle Hunt. If there is one thing I want from Winds, it’s to see how Jaime meets Hyle.

And yes, the whole business of Lady Stoneheart is crammed into a couple of paragraphs. (Now there’s a writing exercise for you!

On with the show:

Honor and virtue

Ser Hyle Hunt was certainly aware of Brienne of Tarth’s journey through the Riverlands with the Kingslayer. Ser Hyle had personally heard the given name of the Kingslayer come out of Brienne’s too wide mouth when her near festering cheek wound had her fevered and delusional. The brotherhood without banners had called her the Kingslayer’s whore.

’Another case of Renly,’ he had thought. What else could he deduce when the said man was the handsomest in Westeros and the maid known far and wide as one of the ugliest. ’Brienne the Beauty’ they had called her, and Hyle had taken part, once. T’was nothing but the truth, after all. He did not think Lannister had had a true taste of her, but even if he had, that made no difference to him. Maybe another disappointment like that would sweeten the value of his proposal.

The proposal he had made to Brienne before they encountered the brotherhood had been a good, honest deal, for both of them. Hyle respected Brienne enough to not insult her with pretty words better used on prettier maids. Brienne knew the truth, and what Hyle was offering was amiable partnership. He would get to be the husband of the next Evenstar of Tarth, and she would gain the respectability of a husband and the freedom to keep wearing a man’s mail. Hyle had no interest in ruling over Tarth or over his wife; he was happy to be a consort and someday have his child rule Tarth.

The maid should appreciate his genuine offer of the marriage bed as well, Hyle thought. She wasn’t likely to get other, respectable offers. Ser Hyle was not bad looking, and he could tolerate her well enough. Of course the lady had not said yes yet, but Ser Hyle knew it was just a matter of time until she saw sense.

If she ever got the chance.

Ser Hyle had lost the track of time since Brienne of Tarth had left both Ser Hyle and her young squire to the hands of the brotherhood without banners and went to retrieve the Kingslayer. The maid was stubborn to a fault, but even Hyle had been surprised when she had been ready to let herself hang for the sake of protecting a Lannister. It was only the act of starting to hang Pod that had changed her mind. Sadly Podrick was not faring very well, but he tried to stay brave for his ”ser lady” that was coming back for them.

In hindsight Ser Hyle might have suspected, but the unpleasant truth was that while he didn’t see Brienne as entirely unbecoming, he found it impossible to believe a man like Lannister could find her comely. A man like Jaime Lannister had to have had more than his fair share of offers, bound by oath to celibacy or not. Why would he be interested in a maid like Brienne of Tarth?

====

Jaime Lannister had known something was wrong when he let Brienne lead him away. The Wench could not lie to save her life, and as hard as she might try to feign it, Jaime could see she had been hurt badly, and the movements she made were unnatural and stilted. The first time she was forced to remove the dirty bandage off her cheek he had been shocked despite himself.

”That isn’t…is that a human bite, Lady Brienne?” he had asked, trying to appear calmer than he really felt.

What had he send her to, and what all had been done to her? Had someone succeeded in that which many had failed, and gotten her virtue, as well? He didn’t want to risk hurting her more by asking, but he had to know if he had failed her in this, too. The memory of how much Pia had changed between his two visits to Harrenhal was still fresh in his mind, and he thanked the Maiden when Brienne finally managed to answer him no.

After a two days journey they finally reached their destination.

When Jaime saw what had once been Catelyn Stark and was now Lady Stoneheart, he was truly speechless for perhaps the first time in his life. Life had been cruel to Catelyn and her family, and by the looks of her, death had been no kinder. This was not the high born lady that Brienne had served, but a cold, vengeful wraith set on bringing pain to everyone who had ever dreamed of hurting her or her family.

There had been an attempt at a trial, and it had not surprised Jaime when Brienne offered to be his champion in a trial by combat. Lady Stoneheart was spitting mad, wheezing that Brienne of Tarth had once been her sword and now she had given away her honor and virtue and loyalty for the likes of the Kingslayer.

The fight turned into a blood bath. If Lady Stoneheart’s own hadn’t turned against her, they both would have surely died. The one they called Thoros of Myr had changed the tide of the battle, and instead of dead on the battlefield, the Wench was now bleeding while an ill looking young boy tried to staunch the flow.

”So this is the Kingslayer. The man you were willing to let us all die for.”

The words came from another prisoner of Lady Stoneheart’s who had survived the chaos by joining the fight. He had brown hair and eyes, and a bleeding nose. Jaime found it impossible to tell if his nose had been as crooked and swollen before the fight broke out, as his overall appearance was quite battered.

The boy tending to the Wench’s wounds looked at the other man with clear anger coming off of him in waves.

“Ser—Lady Brienne came back for us. She saved you!”

“It’s fine, Pod,” Brienne calmed the boy down with a steady, heavy hand on his shoulder. The boy continued his work in silence, but seemed mollified.

The other man did not let down, however.

“I always knew you liked a pretty face, Brienne, but surely not Jaime Lannister.”

Jaime was getting enough of this man with no manners. “Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”

“I am Ser Hyle Hunt. I know the lady well.”

Jaime said nothing, waiting for Brienne to acknowledge the situation and explain her relationship to this insolent man.

She did not.

Ser Hyle continued, “I made a fair offer of marriage, but she would rather do the same as she did with Renly and just moon at your beautiful face from afar. Because that’s what will happen, Brienne.”

This was news to Jaime. Brienne looked embarrassed. Jaime knew of course of the three broken betrothals, but he had never much considered any new proposals coming her way. She was the future Evenstar, so naturally there would be many hedge knights ready to deal with much worse than her for a chance at that, even with the war raging on and the future of Tarth undetermined.

“You are speaking to a high born Lady, Ser.” Jaime ground out.

“I am speaking to the lady who the brotherhood called the Kingslayer’s whore. A roll in the hay is all you’re going to get from him, Brienne, when I’m the one—“

Suddenly Ser Hyle was down on the ground, holding his nose which was spouting fresh blood.

“Do not call him the Kingslayer in my presence ever again.” Brienne enunciated slowly, “Without him you would not be alive. He has never besmirched my honor, which is more than can be said for you.”

Despite the less than ideal circumstances Jaime felt quite pleased, but he could not let go of what the Wench had said.

“What do you mean he has besmirched your honor?”

Knowing Jaime and sensing the danger, Brienne refused to explain further, saying only that what was past was in the past. Still, Jaime wanted to make sure this Ser Hyle knew where he stood. He crouched over to Hyle and said quietly, “I better not hear of this again. I take care of what’s mine, and we Lannisters always pay our debts.”

As he got up, he continued, “You might start looking for another wench to woo. This one is spoken for.”

Ser Hyle all but sputtered as Jaime yanked Brienne close to his chest and kissed her, bleeding and all.

The kiss was intense; fierce but sweet just like the Wench herself, and if Jaime was lucky Brienne would not hit him for taking liberties on her person once they were done. Jaime could taste her blood but he did not mind; they were warriors and they were alive. In fact, it was kissing Brienne that made him feel so alive; like he was still a young man, a man who could do anything! Even become a better man.

Once they came out for air, Brienne did not hit him, but yanked him back and kissed him in turn. It was fumbling and glorious and gave him goose bumps all over.

If Jaime had had a thought to spare, he might have noticed Pod happily grinning at a sour looking Ser Hyle.

#jaime brienne #jaime x brienne #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #hyle hunt #fanfiction prompt #book verse

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flyswhumpcenter · 5 years

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Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. Green deltas are for requested prompts.)

There is no better way to study a character than to stick them in a situation where they're all alone. No outside disturbance, that way! Hell yeah! I've wanted to write one more of these "character has to survive" oneshots for a little while so I jumped on that occasion. Felix is a pretty fun character to try and a get a hold of. I suppose I've always liked edgy-ass guys. Let's justify every instance of out-of-characterness in this oneshot with blood loss!

It’s longer than I expected it to be, tbh.

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Get Out Alive

Summary: He can't afford to die here.

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses (Post-Timeskip)

Wordcount: 1.8K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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A swooping motion of a fierce-looking, sharp-bladed axe.

A slight moment of inattention, given to another occurrence on the battlefield, misplaced worry.

A few droplets of crimson, shards of fabric, drops of sweat flow in the air along with the branches of the trees.

A move on the other side, of a sword, gets even more poured on the stomped grass.

A body collapses on the ground, another falls on its knee, a hand touching the stained soil.

And soon it crashes into a flow.

With heavy footsteps, the survivor rises to his feet, swaying. His fingers fumble with the edges of his soaked clothing, tips tinted in red, as he tries to examine the wound. It’s a deep slash, red all over from where his eyes can pry at it, and the stench would have overwhelmed him if he wasn’t so used to defeating enemies and watching their bodies empty themselves from their blood.

Then a wild thought as the world starts spinning: what if he stayed and defeated more enemies? He can’t leave the battlefield like a coward, can he? That’s not how he does it, he isn’t a fucking loser who’s afraid of dying, isn’t he? Death is nothing compared to the thrill of battle!

A familiar, firm voice calls out to him.

Felix, retreat!

The professor… No. Their leader. Their strategist, their commander on the battlefield. He has to obey their order, doesn’t he? Fuck this shit… Fuck this shit to Hell and back, he wants to continue fighting and do something that isn’t laying around doing jack shit, goddammit, don’t let him down like this!

Another voice, even more familiar, serious and severe, yet obviously concerned. Urgh.

Felix, you damn idiot, retreat before you get yourself killed!

It’s Ingrid’s, who is flying on her mount right over his head, a blurry image before she goes to spear an opponent about to slash his throat with the scooping motion of a rapier. Backed against a wall that doesn’t exist, he sheathes his dripping sword away, arm still pressed against the wound, and decides he’d be better off not getting harassed either.

His feet feel heavy, as if the light armour he wears got thicker and more constrictive since he’s put it on. Lethargy courses through his four limbs, one arm dropping by his side, weight pinching forward constantly. His balance is almost non-existent: he swings from one side to the other like an irregular pendulum, senses numbed and will to fight about to give up and in on him.

He resorts to using a corpse’s lance as a crutch, almost tripping on nothing as he kneels to get it. Disgraceful. Disgusting. That’s like showing the most weakness you can in one motion, in one decision. A fierce, proud swordsman like him shouldn’t have to rely on such cheap techniques to even make it out of the field without meeting his end. At best, he’s pathetic.

Despite the nausea taking a toll on him, he doesn’t taste bile coming up in the back of his throat.

Instead, he tastes iron. Bitter, filtered, liquid iron.

He’s become the picture of vulnerability and, as if knowing that wasn’t enough, everything in him constantly reminds him of that fact. Every noise seems so far away, the voices of his comrades like the sound of the lance he’s stolen, as if his ears were filled with fabric. His view is swimming more and more as he advances, hardly able to put a foot before the other without tripping, to the point he can soon only see blurry spots of colours and hear distorted sounds.

Dammit, this isn’t good… If his sight fails on him even further, he’s no better than dead in the eyes of anyone on this battlefield. He can’t waste precious time and resources on this, he’s got to get out of this mess on his own, and that’s only now that he realizes he’s afraid of death. Afraid of the eternal void, of the darkness of the everlasting slumber, and he doesn’t want it. Not now, not here. He still has things to do, things to partake in, and he can’t afford to meet his demise here.

He can’t afford to bleed out when he’s lost who-knows-how much of it already.

Speaking feels like it’d be a waste of energy, so he resolves to mentally motivating himself to the nearest healer. He has to find Mercedes, who wasn’t too far from him at the beginning, but it’s getting hard to distinguish anything in the sea of blur and vague. There’s no way to tell who is an ally and who is an enemy anymore and the screams roaring around him are nothing but a vast, undetermined, messy potpourri of noise. Talk about an environment to find your footing in.

A foot forward, then the other, then the lance… and he trips miserably on the ground, coughing against the grass, smelling the iron of fallen weapon and bodily fluids. It’s disgusting and repulsive, more than it has any right to be, and he gets nauseous to the point of almost fainting. Yet, fighting the world that keeps spinning to the point of being unrecognizable and the fluids that want to exit from his mouth and wounds, he gets up and continues, for once relieved that no fight is happening around him.

He won’t end up like Glenn, not today, not here, and not in those circumstances! That much he swears on his life!

(That’s ironic…)

His thoughts are on repeat. Don’t die. Don’t fall. Don’t falter. Don’t get distracted. Don’t engage a fight.

Don’t perish. Don’t trip. Don’t fail. Don’t get your attention somewhere else. Don’t start fighting someone.

Don’t lose your life. Don’t lose your footing. Don’t lose your composure. Don’t lose your focus. Don’t lose your reason because your honour got the best of you.

Don’t die, Felix. You can’t afford it, none of you can afford it.

The lance breaks between his fingers, tired of supporting his unbalanced weight to itself. His legs are about to give in, but his vision is dampening with black and he can’t find another corpse to steal from. Even in his darkest times, fate gives up in him and tells him to find somewhere else to go, to see if the green isn’t less red in that imaginary destination. The only land he’s getting promised here is the realm of the dead and he doesn’t want to be there.

He’s glad to be alive, thank you, and dying isn’t pleasing him.

Shivers wreck his frame from head to toes. He feels cold, so cold under the fur of his armour, so cold under the blazing heat of the sun that made him sweat barely minutes ago. Time is torturing him, making him think he’s going to die a moment, giving him back some vigour the next. He feels sick, but it’s no sickness that’s affecting him.

His legs end up giving in in the middle of the field. He tries to drag himself along the grass to make it to safety, to a healer, to something dammit; but his arms are too weak from supporting the rest against a glorified, broken stick, and can’t be expected to lift his weight once again. A glass canon he’s always been, a glass canon he’ll die as. That’s it.

This is the bitter end and it feels as unsatisfying as it could possibly have.

His eyes shut close and don’t open even when he begs them to. Vague echoes dance in his mind to taunt him –the sound of the living being alive and enjoying life— as he attempts one last time to rise to his knees. His bones have transformed into lead, everything is either too far or too soon. It sure is his end, (not the end, his end, that’s painfully obvious), and it’s an end he doesn’t want to see.

It’s dying in disgrace, dishonour and loneliness, surrounded by the enemy, not unlike what his brother must have gone through during the Tragedy. Fitting, but displeasing to say the least.

With nothing to see, touch or feel with, he’s stuck waiting for the finale, lying on his back, a lethargic end on the wound that’s going to cost him so, so much. Talk about a miserable defeat, unfit of his mastery. It could have been avoided too, if he hadn’t seen Sylvain almost getting wounded himself… In the end, you really are supposed to stand on your own and be independent, don’t you?

Yeah… That’s funny. Life’s funny. All he has left is to mentally laugh about how pathetic he must look like at the moment. It makes you like or hate it, and then plays around with you until you’re either tired of it or addicted to the feeling of being alive. It’s living for the sake of living until you die and realize how much you have left to do. If he dies today, he won’t ever get to see his house prosper after the death of both heirs. He won’t get to win against the professor he’s sworn to vanquish in a spar someday. He won’t get to see if Sylvain will calm down, if the boar prince (excuse him, Dimitri) will ever come back from the mental war, if his kingdom will win the war.

It’s funny that he cares about all of this so much now. Earlier, he was just busy trying to survive and retreat. It’s amusing in all the wrong meanings of the term.

Death is funny too if you twist it one way or the other, isn’t it?

An echo of a voice comes in his vague direction.

Felix!!

It feels like Annette’s voice, but he isn’t sure. It could be Mercedes or even Ingrid, considering how far he’s gone. Footsteps accompany it, until it seems like he’s getting held. It’s not like he can even see who it is to be sure about the identity of the person lifting him up from the ground.

Oh my Goddess, he’s bleeding out…!

The voice frets over herself, reminding his body to feel pain when it’s forgotten how to have anything going through it other than numbness and powerlessness. It’s a strangely welcome slight change, even if he grits his teeth and almost screams in a broken screech.

H-hang on, Felix, I’ll bring you to safety! Don’t die on me okay?!

He tries nodding. Must be the least reassuring sight ever, but fretting won’t be of use to anyone, so he just does it anyway. The warmth of this person is soothing, why not try to do something in exchange?

Funny that hope comes back when despair is settled.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #felix hugo fraldarius #cw blood #bleeding #injury #bad things happen bingo #bthb 2

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truthbeetoldmedia · 5 years

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The 100 6x11 “Ashes to Ashes” Review

Trust is hard to come by in a civilization built on lies. In “Ashes to Ashes”, Clarke, Bellamy and Octavia are forced to come up with a plan quick that will appease the Children of Gabriel and save their people in Sanctum while Echo, Gaia, Miller and Murphy forge their own respective plans to get out of the sacred city alive.

Not only is the story in this episode captivating, thanks to veteran writer Charmaine DeGrate, but the acting and visuals are stunning as well — all due to Bob Morley’s natural talent in his directorial debut. He has definitely proven himself a force in front of and behind the camera, and I know I speak for the entire The 100 fandom when I say I cannot wait to see where his career takes him.

For now though, we are lucky to have him as our Bellamy Blake, who particularly shines in this episode as he faces Octavia and acts as the mastermind behind the plan that aligns them with the Children of Gabriel. That is until Clarke has other, more selfless plans, of course.

For Monty

Upon waking up as 100% Clarke Griffin, our protagonist has a very different outlook on life. While in the mindspace, she was forced to face her demons in the form of people from her past who knew she could do better. Monty in particular helped Clarke to realize that violence isn’t always the answer. So, when Clarke comes to and realizes her people are still in Sanctum, she is dead set on masquerading as Josephine to get into the city and save them.

We as the audience get to see that changed and evolved Clarke inside the mindspace come to fruition in the “real world” and witness the satisfying tension it causes between her and Bellamy. Bellamy, who has spent much of the season fighting tooth and nail to get Clarke back finally has her by his side again. So naturally, when she wants to thrust herself back into a dangerous situation, he isn’t a huge fan.

Though it was disappointing that the two only briefly discussed the lengths Bellamy went to to save Clarke before refocusing their attention on the rest of their people, this is how it has always been. As frustrating as it is, they live in a post-apocalyptic world where there isn’t much time at all to discuss feelings and desires. After the ending scene of 6x10 in which we felt how desperately Bellamy needs Clarke by his side, it’s undeniable that they need to find the time to sit down and have a longer conversation someday about what it actually means that they will risk everything, including the safety of the people they love, to save the other (hint: It is absolutely not platonic). However, as we are approaching the end of the season and tensions are coming to a head, it doesn’t appear that they will find that time anytime soon.

Regardless, just seeing Clarke and Bellamy back together, working through the problem in front of them side by side was much needed after a season of Clarke mostly existing only inside her own head. Clarke and Bellamy are co-leaders first and foremost, and as such are a force to be reckoned with. Though it pains Bellamy to consider the consequences of Clarke getting caught in Sanctum, he knows that this is what must be done — what Monty would do.

Monty continues to be their moral compass this season as they try to work towards peace. Though this moon has thrown them for a loop more than once in their attempts to start anew and be better, our heroes know they must do so even when the temptation to get revenge is stronger than ever. Doing what is right is not always the easier route, but it’s still the one that should be taken.

While callbacks to characters long gone can sometimes be tiring, this season has done a beautiful job at emphasizing the important roles they played and continue to play in the lives of the characters still standing. While Murphy is terrified of facing his mortality, we know through Monty, Maya, Jake and even Pike that dying does not mean you cease to matter. The impact you had on people while you were alive remains.

And so, Clarke faces her own mortality head on for the greater good. If she doesn’t, she knows her people will likely die. While I’ve missed Clarke deeply, her returning to the screen in such a powerful way almost makes it worth it. She’s evolved into a whole new kind of hero. Just when I thought it was impossible, I love her even more.

The 10-Year-Lie

While brainstorming a plan that will lower the radiation shield and get Bellamy, Clarke and Octavia’s people out of Sanctum, the group is confronted by the Children of Gabriel. They believe that Gabriel is still Xavier, and that he and “the old man” are protecting Josephine, thus betraying their anti-Prime regime. When they discover that Gabriel has bodysnatched Xavier, and has secretly existed in this form for 10 years, the Children of Gabriel are understandably upset.

Layla, the sister of Xavier, helps add an interesting layer to the story. As Bellamy and Octavia work through their tarnished sibling relationship, she must mourn the fact that she’ll never get the chance to do the same, as her brother is gone forever. Layla’s hurt and anger is palpable as she must cooperate with Gabriel in order to destroy the Primes.

We also get to see more of how the Primes are directly hurting people and tearing people apart, even though they believe what they are doing is right. The 100 has always placed emphasis on the grey area between right and wrong, a space that many if not all of the characters on this show have occupied at some point in time. The view of the Primes as godly figures and the cold war between the believers in Sanctum and the nonbelievers in the forest once again highlights that grey area. Both believe they are right, and neither are willing to budge.

Also interesting is Gabriel’s role in all of this. Though he has notoriously led an anti-Primes movement, he is still alive in yet another body. We get little insight as to why he was resurrected 10 years ago, only that it was done by a man named Eduardo without his consent. This explains why he’s been hiding for so long, pretending to be Xavier. Though this season has largely been about redemption for characters like Octavia and Clarke who we know to have done bad things in the past, Gabriel needs to redeem himself as well. He has his own demons that he must face by helping to rescue the innocent and unwilling before they become hosts.

What is still undetermined is whether he will go along with Clarke’s peaceful plan, or aid the Children of Gabriel in killing the remaining Primes. While Clarke and Bellamy have a moral compass in the form of Monty guiding them, he does not. Though he has agreed to side with Clarke, we know how quickly characters on this show can switch allegiances when it is convenient for them. So, Gabriel is certainly a wild card.

A Spy Named Ash

Back in Sanctum, Russell and Co. waste no time finding a new host for Simone’s mind drive. Echo, who has just been betrayed by Ryker while attempting to assassinate Russell and save her friends, is the chosen one.

As Ryker prepares to kill her, Echo stalls, offering up a backstory that gives the audience an important little tidbit of information: Echo isn’t the name she was born with. As a child living under Queen Nia’s rule in the Ice Nation, or Azgeda, Ash was forced to kill her friend, Echo, and assume her identity before a trip to a neighboring kingdom.

She tells the tale through tears, seemingly still guilty that she was not able to spare her friend’s life. However, when Gaia and Miller (a dream team, might I add) come to her rescue, Echo reminds Ryker of something Queen Nia taught her, right as she plunges a spear into his heart: hesitation is death.

While this was an unexpected “badass” moment, it completely alters the importance of Echo’s story. While watching the flashback, we’re supposed to feel bad for Echo who was forced to kill someone close to her at such a young age. We believe that this provides more depth to her character, shows her as more than just a spy with good aim.

However, Echo does not redeem herself by doing better as so many others have done this season. Instead, she takes the easier route, revenge, and kills Ryker.

While this may be smart and cunning, it makes all of Echo’s flashes of vulnerability up until this point seem ingenuine. If this moment, an important glimpse into her traumatic past, was only a ploy to set her up for revenge, how are we as the audience expected to interpret any moments of warmth or vulnerability from her as anything other than manipulative? I want so badly to like Echo and to see her become a well-rounded character, but unfortunately this flashback only aided me in viewing her as cold-hearted, one-note character.

The “badass female warrior” trope is only entertaining up to a certain point. If Echo is to continue being a part of the story the writers are telling, she needs an emotional facelift. And pronto. In a season constructed around the idea of facing one’s demons, there’s no reason Echo couldn’t have done the same — and shown some real depth in the process.

My Sister, not My Responsibility

While dangerous, Sanctum sure is beautiful. I’ll give it that. While foraging for the toxic mushrooms needed to make a bomb with the same hallucinatory properties as the red sun, Bellamy and Octavia get a much-needed opportunity to hash things out in a glowing cave.

Octavia has changed since going into the anomaly and facing her demons, the most significant of which was her brother and what she put him through. She knows that she cannot expect Bellamy to forgive her for the person she became in his absence over those six years, but she also needs him to know that she’s turned over a new leaf.

It’s understandably difficult for Bellamy to believe that she could have changed so much in such a short amount of time, but it’s clear that he sees some sort of shift. While Bellamy refuses to forgive and forget, he does offer up a satisfying line, delivered perfectly by Bob Morley: “You are my sister, but you’re not my responsibility, not anymore.”

For Octavia, Bellamy was her moral compass. She needed his guidance, although this is the first time she’s admitting that. The Blake siblings have been through a lot. At times, their tumultuous relationship has felt exhausting. Bellamy’s recognition that Octavia is still his sister, but that she’s not his to guide anymore is something that has been a long time coming, perhaps too long. Though they still have a lot to work through, when and if they ever find a moment of peace, this moment felt satisfying. Bellamy is no longer running away from Octavia and pretending she doesn’t exist, and Octavia is taking responsibility for her actions.

Marie and Bob’s acting in this scene was impeccable and really brought this relationship back to life. This scene was probably my favorite of the entire night, purely because we got to see a pairing that has been missing all season return. And, perhaps more importantly, Bellamy was able to definitively tell his sister that he doesn’t forgive her for her abusive behavior, and doesn’t have to.

From this point forward, Octavia will have to continue on her journey of redemption by herself, without that moral compass she claims to need so badly. Her demons are perhaps the darkest of all, so it will be interesting to say the least to see if she can reach some form of enlightenment or if she will fall back into her old ways.

The Unsung Heroes

An unexpected yet delightful pairing this episode was Miller and Gaia. These two minor characters got the chance to shine through and bounce off each other in ways I never knew I needed. Gaia helps Miller to forgive himself for following Octavia despite her wicked ways, telling him that mistakes can be forgiven, it’s not learning from them that cannot be.

This line parallels Gaia greatly to Monty, whose only wish for his people was to be the good guys moving forward. While Monty is the moral compass for Bellamy, Clarke and Octavia in the forest, Gaia is that same moral compass in Sanctum.

She and Miller escape their holding cell and manage to save Echo, but not before she’s been made into a nightblood. Gaia notices this right away as she’s untying her, and in true Gaia fashion is stunned.

I can’t help but wonder if Echo’s nightblood is a setup for something greater. Will she take the chip and become commander? I don’t think so. More plausible, I think, is that she will have to lower the radiation shield. Of course this means something would have to happen to Clarke and/or Raven that would hinder them from being able to do so themselves.

While Gaia and Miller got their chance to be unsung heroes in this episode, perhaps Echo will get that same chance soon, possibly redeeming herself. Though this is equal parts speculation and wishful thinking, The 100 is unpredictable. Regardless, I would like to see Gaia and Miller become best friends and continue being a dream team, please and thank you.

Caught in the Middle

Poor Murphy, always finding himself caught between a rock and a hard place. Then again though, as Russell puts it, he’s willing to do whatever and align with whoever in order to save himself. While Murphy takes offense to this, he can’t necessarily deny it.

However, there’s a shift in Murphy’s thought process that is visible when Russell warns him there will be consequences for not bringing Josephine back alive. Murphy assumes he will be killed, “an eye for an eye”. He seems genuinely accepting of this. It’s only when Russell says Emori will be killed that Murphy’s face changes.

Murphy has always been a selfish person. Arguably, Emori changed that about him the moment they fell in love. In Season 4, he fought to make sure she would not be killed in the radiation chamber. Similarly, she refused to leave him to die on earth at the end of Season 5. The two are willing to die if it means dying by the side of the person they love.

However, this is the first time we’ve seen Murphy really accept his own death as he recognizes Russell’s deal for what it is, immortality versus mortality. He still wants to live forever by Emori’s side, but if one of them has to die to save the other, he wants it to be him.

I’m still waiting for Murphy to change sides as he does so well and become the hero we all know he can be (see: him helping to save Clarke in Season 3). This time though, perhaps he will stay on the “good” side and take Monty’s words to heart.

Murphy’s internal battle with his mortality has been so interesting to watch, and has been perhaps my favorite storyline to come out of Sanctum’s body-snatching ways. He’s known as a cockroach for a reason, but does he want that to be his legacy? Though he’s high up on my list of characters most likely to die this season, I sincerely hope he sticks around purely because I want to see him accept his mortality and live with it.

This is The 100 though, so I’m not holding my breath that he will get a happy ending. After all, does anyone ever get that on this show?

The Academy Award Goes to:

You’ve seen Clarke, Josephine, Josephine pretending to be Clarke, and a Clarke and Josephine combo. Can I interest you in Clarke as Josephine?

Realizing that the only way to avoid killing innocent people is to lower the radiation shield before the less intense bomb is set off, Clarke knows she must pretend to be Josephine and do it herself. Clarke parallels Bellamy from Season 2 as the inside man, and she certainly isn’t expecting what she finds when she returns to Sanctum.

Madi is strapped down and being drained of her bone marrow to allow for the creation of more hosts, including one for Simone, Josephine’s mother. Clarke takes on perhaps the greatest acting feat of all time when she tells Madi that she is Josephine, and that Clarke is gone forever. She must be apathetic as Madi struggles in place, promising to avenge her death.

I genuinely expected Clarke to break in this moment, and I’m sure there will be many moments like it in the near future. Clarke knows she must remain undercover if she wants to save the lives of all her people, including Madi, but that’s her child strapped down and being used as a medical experiment.

It has been such a joy to watch Eliza Taylor’s range this season as she’s taken on the challenge of not only playing two entirely different characters, but playing them as each other as well. She’s really done an incredible job with it and shown just how talented she is (though just her as Clarke was enough to prove that). With Eliza announcing that she’ll be directing next season, I’m already excited for what’s to come after Season 6 is over. However, we still have two more episodes to get through in which I’m positive she’ll shine in front of the camera like she’s done all season long.

Final Thoughts

In his first episode as a director, Bob Morley really knocked it out of the park. Everything came together to showcase the story in the best way possible, with the actors shining through in their performances. It’s unsuprising that so many cast members have been singing Bob’s praises since before the episode even aired. Hopefully we will get more episodes directed by him in the future!

As far as the story goes, this episode was pretty on par with the excellent writing that’s been delivered to us all season long. Clarke has been set up to once again save the day, but will she be able to? It’s those unexpected yet expected twists that make this show so great. We know that something is going to go wrong with this plan, we just don’t know what.

With Clarke and Murphy back in Sanctum, almost everyone is in the same place again. The stories are starting to intertwine, with Abby’s bone marrow solution incapacitating Madi and thus throwing an unexpected wrench in Clarke’s plans to stay cool and undercover. Meanwhile, Murphy has further aligned himself with Russell and the Primes and will likely be a key player in determining the fate of his people. Does this mean more Clarke/Josephine and Murphy? Sign me up.

And then there’s Bellamy and Octavia who are still with the Children of Gabriel and Gabriel himself. These two will really have to work together to save those they love and avoid a bloodbath. Octavia’s redemption, incoming.

After all is said and done, Bellamy is going to have to face what he did as well though. He cannot sweep under the rug the fact that he left everyone else behind to get Clarke back. Even if it was in the best interest for his people, his focus at the time was on saving Clarke.

This episode did give us a few breathers amidst the chaos for characters to work through their personal issues, and I’m hoping that we’ll get more of that after the climax of the finale. If the story is to move forward, the characters' relationships need to change, whatever that means for each respective pairing.

Interpret that however you wish.

With two hours of Season 6 left to go, I think this episode ultimately did its job. It forced the characters as well as us to consider how this is all going to end, and if they can really follow Monty’s advice and do better.

Next episode, the penultimate, will launch us head first into the action and thrill The 100 does so well with that morally grey area growing even bigger. I can’t wait!

Stray Thoughts

Where is Jordan? It makes no sense that he suddenly disappeared, especially having played such an integral role in the first half of the season.

Bellamy hiding his tears after talking to Octavia really got to me. Bob Morley truly is a force in front of and behind the camera.

Speaking of acting, can we talk about Eliza Taylor playing Clarke playing Josephine? Incredible. That “Boo hoo” was everything.

That parallel between Clarke pulling the gag out of Bellamy’s mouth and him doing the same to her in 3x02 was something I never knew I needed until now. *Chef’s kiss*

Gaia must be protected at all costs. That is all.

Jessica’s episode rating: 🐝🐝🐝.5

The 100 airs Tuesdays at 9/8c on the CW.

#The 100 #Ashes to Ashes

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0bsidian5ire · 5 years

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Prompt #24: Strength of Desire

Prompt: Unctuous from @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast's #ffxivwrite2019

Set back when Kharagal is around sixteen years old

Kharagal wasn't sure when she realized Udgan Toragana was training her to not just as a battle mage, but to as her apprentice. It might have been when Udgan Toragana started telling her details no one else knew about when she had wandered the desert in her younger years. It might have been when Udgan Toragana told Kharagal about the arcane defenses Toragana laid out every time the Meirqid made camp. Kharagal definitely had realized it by the time she became a woman and no one in her family protested when Toragana was the one to tattoo the arcane geometries that kept Azim's aether from noticing her onto her back instead of Kharagal's mother's mother as was tradition.

And Kharagal genuinely liked being a udgan's apprentice. She liked spending her days shaping aether into forms that sang with symmetry. She liked spending days out in the desert creating aether geometries just to see what they did. The idea of leaving the Meirqid to learn from the legendary inhabitants of the desert that only taught those who passed their tests was very attractive. Point being, Kharagal had known for a very long time that what she loved was figuring out how aether worked. And she was more then fine with dedicating her life to it even if it meant she didn't end up being understood by most people.

Unfortunately, not everyone got that. For the past month, Osbeg had been watching her. And Kharagal was getting pretty tired of it. He had made a point to be waiting for her when she got back to camp from experimenting with arcana and asking her if she wanted to do anything with him. Kharagal had always told him she was busy, because she was. Experimenting with magic took up a lot of time and there was things she had to do back with her family to keep their household functioning.

And if that kept Kharagal too busy to do anything with Osbeg, that was fine with her. Osbeg was hitting the age where his growth spurt kicked in and he was now starting to find he could compete with people older then him. It turned out his spearwork showed promise and several of the older warriors were interested in training him. He wasn't a bad guy, but his new-found power had gone to his head and made him more thick-headed than usual.

Today's altercation started out like any other's. Kharagal had been out in the desert practicing Fester. It was tricky arcane spell that relied on a arcane disease already being present. One of the hang-ups Kharagal had with it was that it had a long ramp-up time and the geometry suggested there had to be some way to speed it up. Unfortunately, the Xaela udgan had known of that problem for longer then any of them could remember and had tried various ways to get around the long build-up time. They'd never found a way to do it. The closest they could get was committing it to memory by do many, many repeated casts. So Kharagal was more frustrated then usual.

Frustrated enough that when Osbeg asked her if she wanted to do anything with him, that she finally snapped. "When are you going stop talking to me? You have to know I'm never going to say yes by now."

Osbeg blinked at her in confusion. "Why wouldn't you? I've been winning more and more and am one of the strongest to-be warriors our age. We'd be so great together."

"What?" Kharagal raised an eyebrow at him. Clearly Osbeg hadn't seen Aruktai fight while Karash held his will. Terrifying was an understatement.

"You haven't seen it?" Osbeg looked at her with what might be pity. "People say you're one of the strongest warmages in generations. And yet they purposely leave you out of so much. You must be so lonely."

Kharagal almost dissolved into laughter. Of course most people outside her family didn't want to get to know her. She was going to leave the Meirqid someday for an undetermined length of time. Her family wasn't the kind of people anyone wanted to draw the wrath of either. Aruktai was possessed by Karash whenever he thought his family might be hurt. Jagadai could twist the future to favor the people he liked and curse the people he hated. And Kharagal herself had the ear of one of the most respected ugdan in the tribe.

"I don't know what you think you're seeing, but it's certainly not that. Now leave me alone." Kharagal made to move past Osbeg and further into the camp.

Osbeg put a hand on her shoulder to make her stop. "Wait--"

Kharagal reflexively cast Ruin backwards at him. It sent him sprawling. Kharagal followed up with Bio and Miasma. If Osbeg couldn't take the hint from what she was saying, maybe force would drive the point home. He was apparently impressed she was a warmage. Kharagal focused on Osbeg and not on the crowd of people surrounding them. "I told you to leave me alone."

Osbeg hacked around the fluid filling his lungs as he struggled to his feet. "But--"

"Say anything else and I'll cast Fester." It wasn't an empty threat. Bio and Miasma were painful, but they wouldn't kill Osbeg outright. Fester though? It might if Kharagal cast it at full strength, that was the entire point of it. But she probably wouldn't. Kharagal didn't want this situation to happen ever again, but she didn't really want Osbeg dead; killing tribe members was a waste and Osbeg was good at what he did.

Osbeg looked at her in fear for the first time as he slowly backedd into the crowd that had gathered and it looked like he finally saw what everyone else did. That warmages were terrifying. If that was what it took to keep people from only being interested in her magic rather then who she really was, Kharagal was fine with that. She had enough people who really did care about her already.

Like the older brother who pulled her into a full body hug. "How close were you to casting Fester?" Arukati's breath feathered through her hair and his string of sheered-off au ra horns bumped against her hip.

"Very," said Kharagal looked up at him with a grin. "I'd been casting it all afternoon." It would have messed Osbeg up for a week at least.

Aruktai laughed. "He would have deserved it. He hasn't figured out yet that women have been fighting against people twice as tall as them for forever and know all sorts of ways to use that to their advantage."

"I'm sure Shar will love wiping the floor with him then," Kharagal deadpanned. Both of them laughed at the idea of someone shorter then Kharagal beating Osbeg with nothing more then her fists and feet.

Author's Notes: Yep, Kharagal is asexual. In a warring culture that probably has goes to some lengths to make sure they have enough kids to offset all the deaths caused by war... never mind all the other natural ways people probably die in that culture that don't have to do with war.

#ffxivwrite2019 #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv fanfiction #asexual character #arguing #au ra xaela #magic theory #theorycrafting #headcanon #worldbuilding

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artisticlicenserpmemes · 5 years

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Kurousa Lyrics Sentence Starters Part 1

Korousa aka WhiteFlame is a music writer who was an amateur producer for an undetermined amount of time before 2008, when he had gained world-wide popularity.

The beautiful crescent moon disappears into the clouds...

I don’t have an umbrella.

If you are hiding away your answer, then ___

And at the very least,___

I’ll wrap up your broken heart.

But the rain, continuing to fall, at last washed ___ away.

If I someday awaken from this transient dream, ___.

I would search for ___.

I wonder where I’d head to...

The modest wish I’ve made: __

It seems I’m forgetting them.

Far off into the distance, you leave me, that is very fleeting.

If I trust in them all,____

If you are searching for your answer, ___

Bold and fearless, a revolution!

Begone, evil spirits!

Even your voice shall not reach ___.

Even the lamenting songs shall not be heard.

The indigo skies lies faraway yonder.

I somehow wandered into a small, dusty room.

Candlelight... Growing closer, farther, then closer again.

I don't know how long we spent together in ___.

If I could, I would wish to forget…

That is both the first and last lie.

You taught me kind feelings.

You taught me sad feelings.

___ is more important than anything, and I won't forget.

Someday, if we meet again, surely, I'll spread my “wings” by your side.

The snow gradually turns to rain, the clouds will tear apart, creating a rainbow.

I thought things were fine the way they were.

I was being tormented by regrets.

I want you to have eyes only for me.

There's no possible way for me to just say it out loud!

What can you see?

I want you to answer me right here right now, ___?

Someone else's shadow is disappearing and reappearing...

I keep on having faith in you.

Now I need to wind up my unrequited pain.

We were supposed to love and bond with each other, but it was all a deception after all.

Patching one lie with another, you kept on smiling.

My rusty heart can only slowly become paralyzed.

The devil's voice has pierced into me, and won't go away.

Now tear off your mask and show me your true face!

Our love will never return.

You're trying to make me suffer?

I have a pretty good idea of what goes on in your head.

Let's get rid of all these speculations.

Kiss __ in the worst way possible.

I have an addiction to loving and being loved.

Let's get rid of all ___.

Even when I completely understand your eloquent arguments, I still feel I'm merely being ___ by your extreme analogies.

I am approaching my limit.

It's 5 minutes till the end.

See ya next week!

Don't make me suffer by making me ___, would you?

In the end, it is you, not me, who have had a good grasp of the situation.

Kiss ___ in the most heavenly way possible!

You may pretend not to notice, but ___!

You thought you could see through my words but you got careless.

There's no point in running from ___.

The more you fight the ticking hand of time, ____.

If ___ find the smallest crack, __'ll catch you.

The scent of ___ would surely overwhelm __.

#vocaloid lyrics #Lyric Meme #lyrics sentence starters #VOCALOID #vocaloid lyrics meme #Kurousa #Kurousap #WhiteFlame #sentence starter #sentence starters #sentence starter meme #meme #rp meme #ask meme #roleplay meme #lyric rp meme

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supcrbabe-blog · 7 years

Note

"I will always step in between you and something like that." (12thlevelintellect) (come here and let me love you)

“Mom, it’s fine. I can handle a little bit of gross ignorance now and then.” It warmed her, though, in a way she knew would frighten the Justice League.

But Lex was her mom, and they had this huge thing in common. Lex being on her side for this felt good. It made her feel like so much less of a biological fuckup to know that her mom had her back, even if that mom was also the Queen of Kryptonite.

#12thlevelintellect #undetermined | find me again someday #asks | und | 12thlevelintellect | mom has her back

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 6 years

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Taking personal responsibility

I recognize and acknowledge that I was thinking critically about, writing critically about, and intentionally withdrawing from my relationship with N for weeks before she discarded me.

Looking back on my own words between August 10th (the day I realized I needed to withdraw) and September 9th (the day she blocked me), I can see how she could have FELT criticized. The criticism I felt, however, was toward myself for adoring her and wanting her, despite (or more accurately BECAUSE of) her emotional unavailability, intermittent reinforcement, and charm. I can also see how she might have felt shamed and abandoned. Shaming and abandonment were not my intentions.

My intention was to be fully realistic with myself so I would hopefully listen to my own sense of reason and hopefully stop wanting more than I could have with her. I can see how she both misunderstood and understood my intentions.

I’m not sure yet what apology to send out to the universe beyond the incomplete one I already gave her, which was “I’m sorry you felt dishonored by my words. Dishonoring you would never be my intention.” I’ll be reflecting on an apology that would feel more complete and responsible to me.

I recognize and acknowledge that I was the one to end the relationship (having decided to not see her for an undetermined/indefinite period of time) even though I had not yet communicated that clearly to her (and might not have ever been comfortable communicating that clearly if she hadn’t discarded me).

It is my intention to add to this post as I recognize more about my own responsibility in and for the ending of that relationship.

All this said, I realize that me accepting responsibility for my part is the cocreation of that unhealthy relationship dynamic does not excuse the fact that her words in the end were dismissive and her action (blocking without explanation) was abusive, whether or not abuse was her intention. Would she say the same about my words and actions in the end? Perhaps. I acknowledge that she might.

Accepting responsibility for my part also does not change the fact that she manipulated me throughout the duration of our relationship, whether or not manipulation was her intention.

In the end, I somehow managed to prioritize my health over my love for her and over my obsession with her. By divine grace, I managed to do this even as my body cried and screamed for her. Unfortunately I couldn’t find a way to prioritize my health AND stay in relationship with her, because there wasn’t a way to be found. Throughout that relationship I was reenacting trauma, and maybe she was too. My apology will include that.

That re-enactment is done. She discarded me by divine grace. By divine grace I recognized the discard as abuse, and I called a permanent ending. By divine grace, I’m coming to see my own responsibility in that dynamic and its end.

By divine grace, I will love her forever, even as the limerence ends and the trauma heals. I feel no animosity toward her. And at the same time, I recognize that I can’t allow her to touch me again and I can’t be in relationship with that chaos 🌪.

Addendum: Shame

I feel shame about not clearly communicating my feelings and needs in the relationship. I recognize I tried, and my attempts were met with various forms of resistance. The first time I made the request, it took her 5 weeks to find time to meet with me. Then she tried to overwrite my reality and explain away the intensities I expressed to her (limerence, agitation, fear) as religious experiences rather than a problem within the relationship dynamic. That overwriting my reality with her own explanation/understanding happened on a few occasions (each time I expressed those feelings). The trouble was I didn’t fully understand what was going on until September (i.e. trauma re-enactment). I couldn’t make sense of my reality, let alone explain it to her.

I feel shame about not communicating to her that her empty promises (“over-promising” as she later called it) needed to stop. If I had set this boundary back in April when I first realized that most of her promises were empty ones, this might have changed the course of the relationship. That said, my limerence at that point was intense (because of my inner response to her charming behaviors including the false promises). I suspected that if I told her that I needed reliability and asked her to please only make plans with me if she knew she could follow through, then the result of that conversation would be her never making plans with me, and me never seeing her. I recognized the chaos in her life and the limits of her capacity.

I feel shame about withdrawing to an extent from the relationship in August without communicating my intentions. Those intentions were to not interact with her Facebook and not see her until I could figure out how to shift my feelings for her and get off the emotional roller coaster of flying-certain-uncertain-impossible-deflated). I recognize that communicating those intentions and the reason I needed to withdraw, might have changed the course of the relationship.

That said, I did try to explain myself in a note to her on my birthday, and she didn’t have the capacity to hear what I was saying. She took the note as a criticism of her rather than the open vulnerability with which it was intended. Despite recognizing her lack of capacity for understanding and her overwhelm with her own life, I feel shame that I wasn’t able to communicate my intentions clearly. I could have stated directly that I wasn’t going to be interacting with her anymore and why. But I didn’t. I really didn’t want that to be true. If I told her, that would make it true.

I feel shame about expressing on Facebook some of the insights that I acquired in that birthday communication with her. Even though I said nothing about her, even though her account was deactivated at the time, even though freely expressing my insights was exactly what I used my Facebook for, I still feel shame about this because she was upset when she saw those posts later. She felt criticized and dishonored. I made those posts for ME. It was important to me to express the truth of my understanding. I could have expressed my insights directly to her. If I had done so, that might have changed the course of the relationship.

That said, I didn’t want to express them to her. I recognized she didn’t have the capacity to hear them. I had already bared my soul to her on my birthday, and she didn’t acknowledge my experience nor did she even wish me happy birthday. I already understood at that point that she didn’t have the capacity to meet my basic needs in friendship and that we wanted different things, i.e. there was a lack of compatibly of needs. I was already understanding that the relationship was over by MY choice. Posting those insights solidified my understanding. Her discard cemented my understanding.

I feel shame about my unwillingness to “mend” the relationship in the future and shame about communicating that to her (that communication upset her such that she immediately blocked me again). I knew expressing that would upset her. I did it anyway to communicate my boundary, and draw a permanent end to the relationship. The bottom line is I don’t want to repair a relationship with someone who manipulated and abused me, even if those weren’t her intentions. I don’t want to repair a relationship that held a toxicity for me from the beginning. I don’t want to repair a relationship that was a trauma re-enactment rather than a friendship. I don’t want to repair a relationship with someone I experience to be a narcissist.

I feel shame that I kept seeing her once I recognized the relationship dynamic was unhealthy and I recognized I was experiencing trauma in the relationship. I understand the addictiveness was a function of the toxic dynamic/attachment trauma.

I recognize in each moment of that relationship I did the best I could at the time. I tried as best as I could to balance compassion for her with my own needs. In the end my needs finally came first.

The relationship revealed to me that I had been experiencing trauma re-enactment, not just with her, but in past relationships and behaviors as well. It revealed my CPTSD. It revealed how my attraction to manipulation (i.e. charm, emotional unavailability, and intermittent reinforcement) stems from relational trauma in my early life attachments, especially with my mom. Through that relationship with N, I came to embrace and celebrate my sexuality, whatever it may be. That relationship set me on a path to choose to grow a conscious understanding of God.

That relationship came into my life through divine grace. It was full of divine grace. And it ended through divine grace. That understanding eases my feelings of shame for not doing it perfectly and not being able to “make it work.”

I send this apology out into the universe. Perhaps I’ll be able to offer it in person someday.

Dear N,

I’m reaching out to apologize for contributing to suffering with my words and actions. I know you’re busy with the important work of your life. This message is here if ever you have time and desire to read it. There is no need to respond if you don’t wish to respond. I don’t want any more time to pass before offering you my sincere apologies.

I’m sorry the insights I expressed on Facebook had the effect of you feeling criticized. My intentions were to reflect, think critically, and be realistic with myself in the hope that I would stop wanting more connection than I could have with you. I’m sorry I didn’t anticipate how you might feel if you reactivated your account and read my written reflections. I can understand how seeing those may have caused you pain.

I understand I was reenacting trauma in my relationship with you. This was unconsciously done. Until late September, I didn’t even understand what had been happening. Through recovery work, I’ve learned that trauma reenactment is an effect of attachment injury and a sign of CPTSD.

I should not have pursued a new friendship with anyone until at least 6 months to a year after being discarded in that prior relationship. I don’t regret the time you and I spent together. I apologize for not waiting the recommended amount of time for my nervous system to heal after years in that prior relationship (in which I was reenacting the trauma I experienced during the political activism... which was reenacting the relational trauma in my family of origin... in which my mom was reenacting her childhood trauma... and so on). I’ve come to understand that changing this 🌪 pattern in my lineage is currently my soul’s purpose.

I apologize for starting to withdraw from our friendship in August without communicating to you my intention. My intention was to not see you until I could shift my feelings and get off the emotional roller coaster I had been experiencing since February: flying(when I was with you)-certain-uncertain-impossible-deflated(most of the time). Each time before seeing you, I was terrified and thrilled because I knew the roller coaster would start over again. At the time I didn’t know why I was terrified, I just knew I was very afraid. The pattern of brief highs and protracted lows was torturous for me. I understand the pattern was an effect of the trauma reenactment. Reenacting trauma in that way (limerence) can be so painful and feel so inescapable that some people commit suicide.

I didn’t want my intention (to not see you) to be true, and if I communicated it to you, that would have cemented its truth. Right up until the end, I kept trying to think of another way. For months, I’ve understood that you and I have different needs in friendship, and our needs aren’t compatible, but I kept trying to make a friendship work because my feelings for you of love and shared interests were very genuine. I apologize for not accepting the reality of the situation much sooner. I understand that trying to make impossible situations work is a pattern of my nervous system, an effect of my attachment injuries. I’m working to heal those injuries, and I’m changing that pattern.

I recognize my decisions contributed to the ending of our friendship. I apologize for any suffering that may have caused you. I’m sorry if my unwillingness to try to mend our connection in the future brought you additional pain. With those decisions, I prioritized my needs over the powerful desire I had for us to be in relationship and over my thought for your feelings.

I apologize for not clearly communicating to you my feelings and needs throughout the months we were in relationship. The more I value a relationship, the harder it is for me to express my feelings and needs. This is an effect of my early life attachment trauma and a challenge I’m facing in recovery.

I’m grateful to have been in relationship with you and for the profound awareness that has come to me through that soul work. I care dearly about you and your family. That will not change. I’m deeply sorry it couldn’t work for us to continue in relationship. I’m still grieving that reality. I’m sorry for not communicating that to you directly and for causing suffering. It is my ongoing hope for your life to be full of joy.

***

Reasons I’m not sending this apology:

The apology feels disingenuous, like a manipulation of the truth, like when I was forced as a kid to apologize for actions that weren’t my fault.

It’s unwise to be vulnerable with someone who discarded (abused) me, showed no remorse for doing so, and showed no empathy for me when I reached out to her compassionately before and after the discard.

Divulging my experience with reenacting trauma in the relationship is an intimate and vulnerable confidence, and she and I are not confidantes. I don’t trust her because she manipulated and abused me, and I want no relationship with her now or in the future. It’s not wise to talk about trauma reenactment and CPTSD with anyone I don’t trust.

As of our last contacts in September, she seemed emotionally unstable and did not have the capacity to hear me. Realistically I doubt she’d have had the time, space, or interest in receiving an apology. My feeling is that the message would be a burden to her. My feeling is that she detached from our relationship the way she did from her 3 former marriages and anyone else she has ever broken up with in her life. My feeling is she felt some degree of responsibility herself and/or animosity toward me for a while and then chalked the experience up to karma and the control of the god/universe to avoid any feeling of shame, abandonment, etc. My feeling is she probably wrote me off and has hardly thought of me since I hid myself on messenger or she’s not thought of me at all.

I don’t think she’s a pathological narcissist, but I experienced her to be a narcissist: love bombing, empty/broken promises, seduction, lack of concern for my feelings and needs, emotional unavailability, intermittent reinforcement (*sometimes* getting back to me, *sometimes* showing up), feelings as facts, and discard. With narcissists, no contact is the wisest choice for me.

The only thing I actually did “wrong” in that relationship was to stay in it long after I noticed red flags. I recognized our needs aren’t compatible, and I continued trying to make the relationship work. Those aren’t actions I need to apologize to her for in order to make amends. I can simply make amends by continuing to work daily on my nervous system so I will be able to pay attention to red flags when they show up in future relationships, and so I will no longer try to make impossible situations/fantasy relationships work.

By staying in the relationship I cocreated that unhealthy dynamic, but I actually didn’t “cause” her suffering. She FELT criticized, and I can see how she may have felt that way, but I actually didn’t criticize her. There’s no need to apologize for truthful insightful expression on Facebook that was inspired by my conversation with her, but that didn’t malign her or even mention her, and that I didn’t expect her to see because her account was deactivated. If a truth hurts, a person can choose to ask themselves why it hurts. Eviscerating the truth teller doesn’t change the truth. This is why she discarded me and this is what I feel shame about. But if there had been space in the relationship to tell her my insights I would have gladly done so. The only person’s suffering I actually “caused” was my own with the self-torture of staying in a relationship dynamic that was reenacting trauma.

I actually tried several times to communicate my feelings and needs. There just wasn’t space for me to do so, even on my birthday. On the occasions when I did so anyway, she minimized my feelings, brushed them aside, tried to overwrite my reality, openly said she didn’t have time to hear me, and/or she didn’t actually have the capacity to hear me. I don’t need to make amends to her for not communicating my needs clearly. I tried. I will continue with recovery work so I can keep growing my capacity to express my feelings and assert my needs with anyone.

I’m actually not sorry for ending the relationship or refusing to mend it in the future. There is no need to apologize for putting my needs first in my relationships. I can’t take responsibility for her feelings.

I realize the shame which lingers in me regarding that relationship is not healthy guilt. I really did nothing wrong, but I feel badly anyway. I’m pretty sure it’s toxic shame that’s connected to my early life attachment trauma, and is not actually about N. Repairing those injuries and releasing that shame is why I’m doing recovery work.

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dcbicki · 7 years

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“You’re Gonna See it Someday; It’s Affection Always”

Fandom: Veep Characters: Dan Egan, Amy Brookheimer Pairing: Dan/Amy Rating: T (use of mature language) In which Amy’s pregnant, and Dan already has a plan mapped out for them.

He’s a fucking snake with the eyes of a hawk. Of course he’s up to something. She knows him, better than anybody else probably ever has, ever could.

“And now you’re gonna eat.” He reaches down, picks up a rounded bowl. “Eating for two now, Amy.”

She’s seriously gonna stab him with a fucking spoon.

----

He’s thought long and hard about this. Well, that’s to say he thought of it, considered it for like twenty minutes, and then made up his mind.

He didn’t even need to consider it– not really, not hard at least. It all just seemed rather obvious, now that the cards were in place and the inevitable was no longer deniable.

He knocks once, twice, knows she’ll answer despite it being so late at night because she’s Amy, and she just will.

Dan bounces up in his heels, waits for the wooden door to Room 206 to open and its guest to greet him. He frowns. She’s probably wearing that awful fucking granny nigh- “What?”

Nope. She’s still wearing that dress that looks like a long blouse. It still stops at her knees, still shows off traces of her bra underneath. Oh.

“What?”

“What?” Amy scowls, eyes drawn tight and lips thin. Her body is hard, tense. Fuck. “You knocked on my door, Dan.”

Right. “Can I come in?”

There’s no ‘please’, not even a hint of one coming soon. There are no cherries on top of this, no sprinkles to garnish their massive fuck-up.

“No. And you’ve got one minute to say whatever bullshit you’ve been reciting in your head before I scream.”

She wouldn’t. He’s sure of it.

“Well, aren’t you a fucking delight?” Maybe sarcasm wasn’t really the right idea to start things off, he judges based on the look she gives him. Whatever. “You really want me to let everyone on the floor know of our little sexcapade, Amy?”

“Goodbye, Dan.”

The door doesn’t shut because he pushes a hand up flat against it, and she removes her own, backing down against her will. She still glares up at him, though. She can still look like she hates him, at least.

“You could’ve told me you weren’t on the pill.”

On second thought, maybe blaming her isn’t gonna go down too well either.

Fuck him, and fuck his finger-pointing.

“Yeah, well, you could’ve used a condom.”

One hand curled around the doorway to her room, he sighs, slight aggravation showing in his tone (because she’s not letting him in, because she’s blaming him), “I was told-”

“A low sperm count doesn’t mean no mean sperm count at all, you fucking dildo.”

Dan smirks at that (because he’s an ass, after all), and he leans in closer, “More like a vibrator, angel.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Besides,” he shrugs, still towers over her even though she refuses to let him into the room, “You weren’t bitching about the lack of condom when you were riding my dick.”

“You told me not to worry, and because I was as drunk as a freshman sorority girl lying face down in an back ally, I didn’t worry.”

He drank more than she did that night, and they both know it.

“It’s not my fault you couldn’t keep up with me.” He’d been six drinks in, and she’d been five. So close. Damn him.

“You were the one who kept buying me drinks.”

“And yet I wasn’t the only one completely trashed at the end of the night.”

“Fuck you.”

“Can I come in?”

“No. Go back to your room. Go fuck an unsuspecting twenty year old. I don’t care.” She wants to close the door, to slam it in his face so hard his fucking nose bleeds, bruises, breaks.

He won’t budge though, and he’s practically already inside at this point anyway.

He’s asking out of common courtesy, which is almost funny considering Dan is one of the rudest people she knows. He’s fake, too, though.

It’s ironic, because common courtesy was the sole reason she decided to tell him. She didn’t tell him because she wanted to, because she needed him or his money or his help. It was the right thing to do – to tell him of his impending fatherhood, if he wanted it – try as she might to fight it.

“I don’t want to fight, Amy.”

It’s not good for the-

“Well, if you’d have used the brain that the Wizard of fucking Oz gave you at birth, then we wouldn’t have anything to fight about in the first place.”

He kind of wants to tell her that they always find ways of arguing anyway, that there is always just something there as a source of heated conversation between them, a raw nerve left uncovered. He almost wants to remind her of how they once clashed over a flavours of fucking frozen yoghurt. He’s not blind. He knows how they operate, how and why and just how well they work together.

But he doesn’t – doesn’t mention their ever-present, ever-lingering need for eye-drawing disputes – because he knows it’ll only make matters worse. And they’re already in pretty fucking rough shape as it is.

We don’t have to fight now, Amy. We need to talk about this.

He’d tell her this if he wasn’t such a coward, if he wasn’t just two steps away from becoming a full-fledged sociopath, one who craved her attention and cherished her scoldings. It’s that five percent part of him needs to feel loved (so people say), he reckons.

He’d tell her this, but only if their deliciously twisted Machiavellian souls weren’t so damn twisted. He’d tell her this, but he kind of likes it when she hates him.

“Best put on those ruby slippers then, Dorothy. It’s gonna be a long fucking road ahead.”

Campaign trailing and tightrope walking and hormone-fucking-controlled screaming matches. All this until they become parents. All this until the emerald-tinted goggles wear off and all they’re left with is a fucking baby and a fuckload of diapers.

Fuck the wizard, and fuck that analogy.

“Can you leave?” Her lips purse, and he somehow knows that she wants to add a simple ‘Please?’ on the end of that. But she won’t. They don’t do manners. They don’t do nice.

Shoulders raised high and body hunched, her spine is probably fucking screaming out for help. He’s never understood how her spine hasn’t tensed up so much that it shatters into fucking pieces, but he’s always admired it from afar, from too close.

“No.”

No, because you said you pregnant with my fucking kid, so, I don’t know, we should probably talk about it. Maybe? Huh? No? Well, tough shit, Brookheimer.

Dan lifts a brow, in that sharp way he does when he’s testing her, messing with her. Except he isn’t really messing now, but his face has never quite mastered the art of expressing anything other than boyish overconfidence or sheer disgust, so he just looks like a fucking prick instead. Nothing new there then, Amy thinks.

“Why?”

Because we need-

“I ordered room service and told them to bring it here.” He shrugs, nonchalant, ignores the icy blue daggers her eyes bore into him.

Amy lets a moment pass before she speaks again, just watching as he ventures further into her room, not even asking for her approval now. He tosses that stupid beige coat down on the chair beside the dresser, sits down in said chair with one leg crossed over the other at the knee. And he’s grinning. Fucking asshole.

“What did you order?”

She didn’t dare eat enough at dinner, too distracted by his constant nudging and staring. They hadn’t spoken to each other all night; well, of anything other than Selina or her baby that is the White House, that is. They didn’t talk about what was really at the back of both of their minds, pushing its way to the forefront as only their evil fucking spawn could.

“Cravings kicking in already?” He’s messing now, and they both know it.

“Fuck you.” She ignores his look, utterly despises the smug smile – no, smirk – he keeps plastered on his face. She sits on the bed, phone still clutched in her hands. Ring, goddamn it. Fucking ring. “It’s a surprise,” she hears him say, all proud and sounding much like his usual self it’s truly disgusting.

Fuck him and his voice. Fuck him and personality. Fuck him and his shitty genes. Fuck, him.

“You know I can just call someone to come and drag you out of here, right?” She’s not lying, but he knows she’s bluffing. Her hands are sweating, the backs of her knees hot against the bed’s blanket. Is it abso-fucking-lutely vital that he keep staring at her like that?

He taps one hand against the armrest of the shitty chair he’s sat in, sighs in a way that lets her know he doesn’t give a single flying fuck about her threat. “Feel free, Ames.”

“You could at least wipe that shitty grin off your face.” Amy offers, flicking blonde hair behind the shoulder when it starts to stick against her neck, all warm and sweaty. Maybe she’s not pregnant, maybe she’s menopausal already and having a hot flash. Her doctor would disagree.

Just as I thought. You’re pregnant. Congrats, Miss Brookheimer. Would you like to call anyone?

She’d thought about it, about calling him then and there, about letting him know straight away. Hell, she’d thought about dialing his number and just handing the phone over to her doctor to let him learn the wonderful news from someone else.

Hello? Mr Egan? Congratulations are in order. You’re going to be a father.

She’d internally debated all options before making her decision. She’d considered every alternative available to her before making up her mind. She’s getting older, and time is moving faster, and she’s changed (somewhat) as a person.

Fuck.

It’s winter for fuck’s sake, why is her room so hot? Fucking heating.

“You don’t have to be involved. I’m not gonna hunt you down for fucking child support.” She’s a working woman with a job – undetermined, uncertain, unspecified as of yet. She can be a single mother if she has to be.

And she can picture him working alongside her all day everyday, purposely ignoring her pregnancy, and then intentionally avoiding all mention of the kid she’d surely talk about every once in a while. He’d be good at pretending, she knows.

If she told him to go, he’d walk. Quite happily, she thinks.

“You can get the fuck out.”

Of your room? Of your life?

Constantly circling each other’s orbit, casually dancing around an endgame. Maybe they had just been in denial of the inevitable.

“I think I’ll stay right here, thanks.”

His tone contradicts his meaning. He’s smug, but he’s serious.

I’m staying. I’m here. This could work for us. This could for me.

This is a golden opportunity, and not just for him. Maybe it’s a blessing disguised as a fucking embryo, all devil horns and shit-eating smiles.

There’s a knock on the door before he can get another word out, suggest something she’ll either love or loathe. Dan hops up to answer the door, brushing past her legs with the coolest of drafts. She, despite herself, likes it.

“Room service.”

The door swings open, revealing a short white guy dressed in a low rent khaki-coloured uniform. He looks as though someone just killed his family pet, and Dan barely acknowledges him. Poor fucker.

He grabs the handle of the cart – the whole thing, not just a tray – and wheels it into the room before letting go of the truck to pull out some already-counted cash from his back pocket to tip him, “Thanks, buddy.”

Door slamming shut, he spins back around to come face to face with Amy, only a couple of steps away from him, eyes squinting in distrust. He smiles – that motherfucker – and makes a note of her phone lying on the bed. Finally.

“What kind of game are you playing?”

“Why do you assume I’m playing a game?” He has a new job, his own fucking business for Christ’s sake. He is settled… kind of. He’s a grown adult who fucks people and fucks with people as a favourite past-time. “Jesus Christ, am I not allowed to order food for the mother of my child?”

She feels something twist into a knot in her stomach at that, and it rises to burn in her throat. Bile. Vomit.

Don’t ever fucking say that again. Please. Jesus.

“You didn’t eat much at dinner.”

“You kept staring at me, and I had shit to do.”

“And because I was staring I know you weren’t eating.”

She chooses to ignore the slight hint of concern he’s showing. He’s a fucking snake with the eyes of a hawk. Of course he’s up to something.

She knows him, better than anybody else probably ever has, ever could.

“And now you’re gonna eat.” He reaches down, picks up a rounded bowl. “Eating for two now, Amy.”

She’s seriously gonna stab him with a fucking spoon.

The motherfucker ordered what looks like one of everything, and she would thank him if he wasn’t just so naturally, perfectly, plainly sketchy.

“It’s your fault, by the way.” She’s not claiming responsibility for their latest fuck-up, “You were the one who said you couldn’t get your fucking swimmers to the finish line.”

He holds up both hands, blamelessly, “Then I guess you’re just an extra special swimming pool.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later I’ll let you.”

Can she kill him with a spoon? Can they legalize spoon-killing? Fuck, she’ll settle for spooning his eyes if she has to.

Eyes narrowing, Amy finally gives in. Not for his sake, but because she’s hungry as fuck and there are like twenty dishes in front of her. Screw him, him and his tall, towering ass.

“Fine.” Those cravings aren’t going to kick in for some time, she knows, but she’s desperately craving something sweet. And that bowl full of caramel – is that fucking salted caramel? – ice cream looks near orgasmic.

Dan smirks, so much wider than before that it almost resembles a true smile, when she snatches the white bowl containing the dessert from his hands and sits back down on the mattress, completely ignoring the flashing notifications on her phone.

They can get to work tomorrow. Selina and her attention-seeking ass can wait. Nothing’s going to change because Amy ignored a couple messages. Well…

“Good?”

She’d toss the bowl at him if she wasn’t so damn hungry. So instead she just nods and raises a brow, challenging him, “Join me?”

He brushes off her invitation, making his way back over to the uncomfortable chair by the dresser, “You told your mom?”

Why, because you wanna fuck her too, and claim vagina-rights to all three Brookheimer women?

It takes everything she has in her to bite her tongue, to stop herself from saying this. Fuck him, and fuck her sister.

“She does love me.” He speaks more to himself than to her, and Amy scowls, lowering the pot down into her lap. It’s cold through the material of her dress, and she’s grateful.

The metal spoon clangs against the side of the bowl when she lets it slip from fingers, and she’s somewhat surprised when Dan leans forward and grabs it from her hands. Why the hell are his hands so warm? He’s supposed to radiate frost, not heat.

“My dad fucking hates you.”

“Your dad would hate anyone who touched you. Not just me.” He’s softening the blow to his ego, she notes. Asshole.

“He liked Buddy.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t.”

He’s not entirely wrong. Damn him.

“Whatever.”

There’s another bowl being placed into her lap then, and his hands remain cupped around the porcelain until she reaches for it. He retracts, carefully avoiding her touch.

“Are you trying to make me fat so you can add that to your list of reasons to bail? That’s low, Dan. Even for you.” Her tone is mocking, and he knows it. So he grins, because he knows her better than anybody.

“If I was gonna bail, I wouldn’t be making sure you were looked after.” It sounds deeper than he means it to be, he reckons, “Amy, if I was gonna abandon you…,” Dan pauses, glances down at her stomach for only the shortest of seconds, “or it… I wouldn’t be in here.”

Shit. He gulps, almost sighs until she cuts him off.

Eyes closed, she breathes through her nose, does that thing where her neck strains and her body tenses, “You can’t abandon someone unless you were ever there for them in the first place.”

“Well, I’m fuckin’ here, aren’t I?”

You getting worked up there, Danny? Gary would grin like a toddler on a sugar rush and Jonah would come out with some shitty joke that only he would ever find funny. Selina would tell him to sort out his goddamn sour puss and get on with it.

His lips are drawn thin, brown eyes wide, throat tight.

“Why the fuck are you in here?” She wants to shout, but it’s late and Leon fucking West is in the room next to hers. Then again, that twice-flushed turd’s probably got a glass pressed up against the wall right now anyway, eavesdropping on a conversation she’d rather not be having.

He’s a bastard – a heartless one, he knows – but he’s not a fucking deadbeat.

Fuck, his dad’s a deadbeat and his mom’s a saint, but that never stopped him from becoming Satan’s whore in male form. But that didn’t mean he wanted to follow suit.

(And her family’s no picnic either. He doubts she wants to turn out like either one of her parents.)

(And he definitely – oddly, he knows – doesn’t want her to end up like her sister, all unfathered kids and fried aspirations.)

(She’s not just some random woman that he fucked.)

(She’s smart, and his equal.)

(She’s fucking Amy.)

So we jump together. Butch and Sundance.

If she’s in this for the long haul then he will be, too. If she’s keeping this baby (his baby), then he’s keeping her close by. If she’s ready for this, for change, for restless nights and shitty diapers at two o'clock in the fucking morning, then he’ll join her.

No point in beating a dead horse when it’s already done and buried. No point in delaying the inevitable any longer, pushing fate past its due date.

They fucked, and now they’re fucked.

We jump together.

(She’s Amy, for fuck’s sake.)

“Because you’re gonna fuckin’ marry me.”

#veep #dan x amy #dan egan #amy brookheimer #veep fic #fic*#ship: dan x amy #ch: amy brookheimer #ch: dan egan #tv: veep #iaa*

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whichchick · 7 years

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Today I have a missive from my younger brother, who does not tumblr. It’s below the cut.

From brother-the-younger.....

My day started out with the morning newspaper. For our house, that's the Dispatch, and there was another obituary today pleading for people reading the obituary to confront heroin/opiate addictions in their families before their loved ones die, too.

Then I came to work. I am a private criminal defense lawyer, and I see a lot of heroin issues on a daily basis. Today was no different.

I had yet another heartbreaking conversation today with a parent whose (adult) child was in prison on a charge related to heroin addiction. There was little that I could do to help with the criminal defense side of things, so I didn't take the case. The defendant already has a wonderful public defender who will do the same things I can in this case. The only cold comfort I could provide is not something I was taught to advise concerned parents in law school, but it is something I find myself saying more and more:

"Your [loved one] is in jail, so at least you know s/he won't overdose tonight."

Read that again to appreciate just how horrible that is.

Drug overdose deaths were up tremendously in Pennsylvania last year -- I've posted those stats before, so I won't belabor them. The nutshell version is that there were more overdose deaths in Pennsylvania last year than there were deaths from murders and car accidents combined. The overdose deaths also continue to grow at significant double-digit rates while the other two plateaued years ago and are slowly declining over time.

It's not hopeless. Lots of well-meaning and smart people have come up with options to mitigate the death toll. Drug treatment courts help. Naloxone helps. Suboxone and methadone help. Vivitrol helps. Pennsylvania's State IP program helps. More stringent standards for writing pain relief prescriptions helps.

The overdose deaths would be higher without all of those things. That's the last good news. The bad news is that the ameliorative effects of these combined efforts has not significantly slowed the growth of overdose deaths.

There were over 50,000 overdose deaths in the U.S. last year, according to the Chicago Tribune. That's close to a "Vietnam War" worth of deaths (58,220) every year. The New York Times reported in June that US overdose deaths rose at a rate of 25% last year. As bad as things are now, we haven't even reached a plateau. The number of deaths is still skyrocketing despite existing programming.

To put the size of the problem into further perspective, in 2013, there were 33,636 total deaths of all kinds from guns in the US. Of those, 21,175 were gun suicides. There were 11,208 gun homicides. The balance were negligent discharges or "undetermined".

The gun death problem, whether you include or exclude suicides, is far smaller in scope than the overdose death issue at this point. It is also relatively stable and has declined significantly over the last twenty years with modest year-to-year variability.

The heroin body count is an imperfect measure of the toll it takes on our society because it ignores additional casualties. Our spouses, sons, daughters, and parents who die of overdoses leave behind shattered networks and communities. Those deaths and damaged lives prior to death, cause damage to children, spouses, parents, and neighborhoods. A body count approach ignores all of that.

There are huge financial costs. The people pouring into our criminal court system and our county jails and state prisons? Heroin. If you ask me what causes a burglary, I'll tell you without hesitation: Heroin. Car break-ins? Heroin. Retail theft rings? Heroin. Low-level drug dealing to support habits? Heroin.

We're buried in Pennsylvania beneath huge costs related to incarcerating people for crimes driven by heroin addiction. It impacts our state pension crisis. Less heroin means fewer state prison guards and state police. Less heroin means less overtime which means fewer spiked pensions. The same issues translate to municipal police, municipal budgets, and county jails and court systems.

Our healthcare system is being buried under heroin costs: treatment, overdoses, ambulance calls are obvious direct costs. Indirect costs include the cost of treating chronic diseases transmitted among IV drug users like AIDS and hepatitis even if the addiction itself is overcome. I haven't even mentioned lost productivity of those suffering from addiction or from their family members who have to care for them or suffer personally impairing stress or time away from work or other activities because of time and resources spent privately dealing with the addiction of a loved one.

On days like today, I get frustrated because there appears to be little that any of us can do for the current generation of addicts other than to manage them. We don't seem to be able to cure them reliably or slow the death toll.

It feels like an overwhelming and uphill battle, and it's not just a "criminal defense lawyer" problem. I feel it, sure, but so do police. We talk about it sometimes. Prosecutors, judges, and probation officers -- they're all in the same place. We're frustrated and we can't do much more than put band-aids on the problem and manage it case by case.

Naloxone "saves" turn into a frustrating process of "catch and release" for police who see the same blue body 5, 10 times before they get there too late the 11th time. Defendants roll through criminal court, sometimes time and time again, and they too often don't stop falling back into addiction even after they get locked up. Some of them, God bless them, do turn things around, but the exceptions just show how hard it is.

I've yet to find anyone with a silver bullet, but we should avoid things that are counter-productive. Ignoring heroin addiction did not work. Letting people die does not work. Demonizing a fellow member of your family or community for falling prey to addiction is not helpful. Jail is not an answer. We don't have enough prisons or money to arrest and incarcerate our way out of the problem.

Layer onto that the realization that what we are doing right now is either (1) not working or (2) not working well enough to stop the bleeding from getting worse, and we're starting to move into uncharted waters. At this stage, if it would mean someday that I do not have to have more conversations tomorrow like I did today, I would be willing to entertain almost any option.

The response I have long hoped for from our public officials in Harrisburg and Washington is to focus on this issue like it's needlessly killing 50,000 people a year, because it is. For instance, if we had 50,000 deaths a year from terrorism, it would be the national emergency of all time. You can bet there would be somewhat more urgency than we've see around the heroin issue.

Learn about the issue. Ask your elected officials what they are doing about it. Be open-minded with them and willing to let them experiment with new ideas.

As a reminder, the status quo is this: deaths growing at 25% annually on a base of 50,000 a year. If that's the option we choose, keep in mind that we have no idea what the upper limit is on the growth of the annual body count. Efforts to stop this crisis based on doing only things that we don't fear today means we are condemning thousands of people to death without knowing how many graves we need to dig.

Innovation is the only way out of that death trap. The only good thing that occurs to me about the heroin problem is that almost no innovation or new approach could lead to worse results than staying with the status quo. That means that we have to be willing to take calculated risks.

In the meantime, show compassion to families and addicts. Be realistic, but be available to support them and help when and where you can. If you, or a loved one is suffering, reach out for help. Advocate for yourself and your family. Don't wait till you are writing an obituary to speak up. And don't give up hope.

****************************

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wigglyxwoo · 7 years

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Undetermined Hiatus

Hey everyone. I guess this has been a bout a year coming huh? But the truth is Wanda’s not here. I guess I had it coming what with life bulldozing me and then smols being born, and then moving and a whole bunch of other things bulldozing me and other muses moving on too. So with that said….

I love each and everyone one of you now and always. Thank you for the wonderful times you and your muses have given us. I won’t be archiving this blog, and I will be logging in now and then to make sure his url stays in tact. Because who knows maybe someday he’ll whiz back into my life and we can start again. But for now…

We bid you all a fond : Until next we meet, because goodbyes are to finite.

All our love,

Jai & Wanda

p.s. I’m not leaving tumblr. You can still find me here: @ @lilxlionxman / @rabbitsxfoot / @whosxafraid

#Oυƚ Oϝ Mιɳԃ | OOC

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wearebartons-archived-blog · 7 years

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Undetermined Hiatus

Hey everyone. I guess this has been a bout a year coming huh? But the truth is Zack’s been gone a while and Sasha’s just not pulling at me enough to bother. I guess I had it coming what with life bulldozing me and then smols being born, and then moving and a whole bunch of other things bulldozing me and other muses moving on too. So with that said….

We bid you all a fond : Until next we meet, because goodbyes are to finite.

All our love,

Jai & Zack & Sasha

p.s. I’m not leaving tumblr. You can still find me here: @ @lilxlionxman / @rabbitsxfoot / @whosxafraid

#{ out of time }

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crystalsoul16 · 7 years

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Answer all the questions, mwahaha >u

Get to Know Me

Oh geez

okay, challenge accepted, let’s do this!!

I’m putting this under a cut for length tho lol

1. What is you middle name?My middle name is Ryan c:

2. How old are you?I am 24, but definitely don’t feel like I am >->

3. When is your birthday?July 11th! Best way to remember is that it’s also free slurpee day at 7-Eleven lol

4. What is your zodiac sign?Cancer

5. What is your favorite color?various shades of blues and greens. Hard to pick just one ^^;

6. What’s your lucky number?16~

7. Do you have any pets?I have three dogs (two beagles at my mom’s, one undetermined breed (assumed belgian malinois?) at my dad’s), and three birds

8. Where are you from?I live in the state of Virginia, USA

9. How tall are you?5′2″, making me the shortest person in my family T^T

10. What shoe size are you?Depends on the brand, since I have 6 ½ boots that fit just fine, but also have a pair that’s a size 9. So it’s kinda hard to say ^^;;;

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own?I have 8 pairs of shoes, but really only wear one ^^; I got a new pair of shoes for Christmas that I want to use tho!

12. What was your last dream about?…..crap, I don’t remember

13. What talents do you have?I feel like my drawing skills are pretty good, and one of my instructors at school told me I’m good at video editing. I really wanna play with that skillset more and get back into making AMVs one day, and of course continue improving my art skills

14. Are you psychic in any way?If I am, I’m not aware -shrugs-

15. Favorite song?oh gosh, I have so many it’s hard to pick one… At this current moment in time though, the one that is standing out in my mind is Strike Back by BACK-ON, which is the 16th opening for Fairy Tail

16. Favorite movie?Again it’s hard to pick one, but Brother Bear is jumping at me, so I’ll go with that for now lol

17. Who would be your ideal partner?Okay, um… Well, they definitely need to like animals, cuz I do not trust people who don’t like or respect animals. They also need to like video games. Considering I spend a lot of my time playing them, and really hope to one day be involved in video game production and/or design, I feel like my partner should also have an appreciation for video games. Plus ideal casual date is cuddling on the couch and playing games together, so a shared love of gaming kinda feels like a must ^^; Plus with online games we can still hang out even if we’re not together so yeah. Video games. Also liking anime would be great, since I love watching anime and going to cons and cosplaying (oh shit couple cosplaying tho yes plz~!!) so sharing an interest there would be great! Plus then if we’re not in the mood to game, we can just cuddle and watch anime. Also having a genuine kind and caring soul is a must. Those are probably the most important points, but I guess it’d be nice if they’re also in touch with their youthful side. I can be a wee bit childish at times myself, so I just wanna make sure I ain’t gonna be judged if I decide I want to eat dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets or cuddle with a plushie lolol Also, not a requirement, but willing to do stuff in the kitchen together would be nice~ And not judging me for watching cooking competition shows every so often would also be nice >->

……..or honestly, just be Yoosung >->;;;;;;;;;;; cuz it’s honestly startling to me how fuckin’ close that guy is to an ideal for me. And by close, I mean he is -hides face in hands- but of course, he’s fictional. So once again, fictional characters setting the bar high… -facepalms and sighs heavily-

18. Do you want children?At this current point in time, no. I’m still too much of a child in my own eyes to consider being a parent to anything that isn’t covered in fur or feathers. Maybe someday in the future, I will.

19. Do you want a church wedding?Not sure, honestly. It would also depend on what my partner wants. All I know is that a fantasy theme would be rad!!

20. Are you religious?Not entirely. I mean, I do believe that there is some sort of higher power, but I don’t really do much beyond that. I know there’s a term for it, but I can’t remember what it is right now

21. Have you ever been to the hospital?Once, when I was little. I think I was five? I think I blacked out though so I don’t remember much about it. Otherwise, I’ve only been to visit someone or sit in the waiting room while waiting for someone who was admitted.

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?Not yet, and I hope to keep it that way!!!

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?Do anime voice actors count? Cuz I’ve met a few at cons before, but I’m not sure if those count ^^;;;

24. Baths or showers?Personally I prefer showers

25. What color socks are you wearing?White

26. Have you ever been famous?Nope, and I’m totally fine with that. Too much attention makes me nervous lol

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity?As said before, I’m good without that sort of attention.

28. What type of music do you like?I tend to listen to rock music a lot, but I’m open to listening a lot of stuff. Especially video game OSTs and Fantasy/Celtic stuff!

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?No I haven’t, and I think I’m too shy and don’t like my body enough to ever be comfy doing that ^^;;;;;;;

30. How many pillows do you sleep with?Three

31. What position do you usually sleep in?I’m usually on my side or stomach, and I’m pretty much always hugging a pillow or plushie when I fall asleep

32. How big is your house?Well, my mom’s house is bigger than my dad’s. That said, neither are very large really… My mom and I keep saying how we wish this house had more closet and storage space… And at my dad’s, my room isn’t even attached to the house lol. My brother took my old room, so I now have the small mini-house thing right next to the pool. It’s got a bathroom, a counter for a microwave by the door, and a small bedroom. I like the privacy it has though!

33. What do you typically have for breakfast?Sadly, I often skip breakfast because I rarely wake up before noon lol. When I do have breakfast though, it’s either a bowl of cereal or a bagel with cream cheese

34. Have you ever fired a gun?No I have not

35. Have you ever tried archery?No, but I want to so baaaaaaaaaaaad~!!

36. Favorite clean word?solely because of my bro saying it in a ridiculous voice, biscuit

37. Favorite swear word?Fuck, because it’s the one I use the most lol

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?Over 48 hours. I had three final projects due, two of which I had to paint, so I stated up two days straight to finish them, and didn’t even fall asleep before going to school. That said, I don’t remember how late I stayed up including class, but due to class time, it was probably another five or seven hours… And it was misery. 0/10, would never recommend

39. Do you have any scars?I do have a small one next to my left eye from when I got bit by a dog when I was five, which was the cause of the hospital visit mentioned a while back

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer?umm……not that I recall, no

41. Are you a good liar?It depends. Sometimes I can be, but sometimes it’s easy to catch me. That said, I don’t like doing it

42. Are you a good judge of character?Not sure, honestly -shrugs- I like to assume I am, tho

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?I can try, but they probably sound horrible XD

44. Do you have a strong accent?I was once told that I had a southern accent, but I’m not exactly sure. Sometimes I may slip into an exaggerated one, tho

45. What is your favorite accent?I’m a fan of a lot of accents, but I’ve always had a weakness for Australian! Probably because I grew up watching Steve Irwin all the time so I developed an early fondness for it lol

46. What is your personality type?INFP

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?I’m not sure, to be honest. I tend to be satisfied with “cheap” clothes, like at walmart or somethin’, so I’m not sure…. If I had to guess…it’s probably my Organization XIII coat

48. Can you curl your tongue?yurp

49. Are you an innie or an outie?Innie

50. Left or right handed?Rightie

51. Are you scared of spiders?Hell yes >~unless they’re spiders in pokemon, which always tend to be my favorite bug types for some reason lolol

52. Favorite food?shit, I dunno, I like a lot of foods….. I’ll just say pasta and be general about it lol

53. Favorite foreign food?dude I fuckin’ love me some mochi~

54. Are you a clean or messy person?Very clean when it comes to organizing files. Very messy otherwise

55. Most used phrased?Lately for some reason I’ve been saying “Oh dear” a lot and I have no idea why XD

56. Most used word?probably fuck

57. How long does it take for you to get ready?On average, to get ready in the morning takes me about half an hour, and most of that time is spent waking up =_=

58. Do you have much of an ego?I have no ego whatsoever. I could honestly use more of one, even just a small one to give myself at least a little confidence lol

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?I try to just suck, but I tend to bite :/

60. Do you talk to yourself?always

61. Do you sing to yourself?sometimes, if no one is around to hear me >->

62. Are you a good singer?not at all lol

63. Biggest Fear?honestly, being disliked. I know I shouldn’t worry about what people think of me, but I do worry about people close to me finding me annoying or coming to dislike me for some reason.

64. Are you a gossip?nope

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?Either Gran Torino or Forrest Gump

66. Do you like long or short hair?On myself? I used to always keep my hair very long, and just recently decided to try shorter hair. And I actually really like it on myself! In general though, I’m good with anything~ You do you~

67. Can you name all 50 states of America?yup. I don’t feel like listing them all, if that’s what you’re asking, but I do know that one song that lists them in alphabetical order, so yup

68. Favorite school subject?hmmm…. In school, I tended to like math best, since I was pretty good at it

69. Extrovert or Introvert?I am without a doubt an Introvert

70. Have you ever been scuba diving?nope

71. What makes you nervous?everything. My anxiety has me in a nearly constant state of nervousness lol But especially being in social situations that involve talking to strangers!!

72. Are you scared of the dark?hmmm….. I mean, I can sleep in the dark if needed, but I prefer having some sort of background noise, usually a TV

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?Depends on the mistake. If it’s a typo, then no. If it’s a pokemon type advantage or something like that, hell yes.

74. Are you ticklish?uhhhh;;;;;;;; yeah, I am, but I highly recommend against it, cuz I have kicked people in response before out of reflex >-> that and I’d just rather not be tickled plz >->;;;;;;

75. Have you ever started a rumor?nope

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?no, and I don’t want to be! I’d rather be a follower than a leader!!

77. Have you ever drank underage?nuh-uh

78. Have you ever done drugs?no

79. Who was your first real crush?umm………I cannot remember, honestly…

80. How many piercings do you have?none

81. Can you roll your Rs?no, but I tried so hard to before… and my family rubbed it in that they could and I can’t so fuck :c

82. How fast can you type?I just took a quick test and averaged at about 40 WPM. Not sure how fast that is lol

83. How fast can you run?not very

84. What color is your hair?Naturally dark brown, but I like coloring the ends! So far I’ve done green and a sort of minty aqua, and I’m thinking of doing a light violet next, but I’m not sure yet

85. What color is your eyes?Hazel

86. What are you allergic to?nothing that I’m aware of

87. Do you keep a journal?nope

88. What do your parents do?My mom is a middle school teacher, and my dad does some sort of IT work

89. Do you like your age?well, I have no qualms with being 24. I just don’t feel like I am is all, lol

90. What makes you angry?Cruelty and unfairness

91. Do you like your own name?Yup~

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?I did at one point, but I’ve forgotten them by now lol I’ll give it more serious thought if the time comes around

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?I honestly have no preference

94. What are you strengths?I tend to be open-minded and empathetic, so I can understand others pretty well

95. What are your weaknesses?My anxiety and low self-esteem are not helpful lol

96. How did you get your name?……I honestly don’t know. I think my parents just liked the name lol

97. Were your ancestors royalty?not that I’m aware of

98. Do you have any scars?wasn’t this asked before…? -scrolls up- ….yup, number 39. Oh well, I’ll copy and paste it~ I do have a small one next to my left eye from when I got bit by a dog when I was five, which was the cause of the hospital visit mentioned a while back

99. Color of your bedspread?My sheets have a black and white pattern on the front, and a solid light green on the other side. Same for the pillows. The other sheets are white with a grey pattern

100. Color of your room? My walls are a beige color, and I have a hardwood floor

#K Answers #ultyso

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saleggdbsneakers-blog · 5 years

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