#DO YOU HAVE ANY EMPATHY AT ALL? DO YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING COMPASSION?

[musashi]

i'm going to be fucking sick please if you associate with tumblr user gaycey-sketchit at all please just fucking block me leave my life exit i am so fucking upset and terrified. i want nothing to do with anyone who is even remotely close with him

EDIT:

FUCKING BASTARD JACKASS THE FUCKING NERVE OF YOU DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT I HAVE STALKERS. DO YOU UNDERSTAND MY FAMILY HAS HAD TO GET PULLED OUT OF SCHOOL BEFORE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT THERE WERE WHOLE BLOGS DOXXING ME. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT BY BEING MY FRIEND AT ALL YOU ARE NOW A SOURCE OF INFORMATION TO THESE PEOPLE. THERE ARE PEOPLE STALKING ME WHO ARE COMBING YOUR BLOG FOR INFORMATION TO HURT ME AND MY FRIENDS. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO DROP MY NAME! THE THINGS YOU ARE SAYING ARE SPECIFIC ENOUGH THAT THEY CAN BE CROSS REFERENCED WITH OTHER THINGS PEOPLE HAVE SAID AND USED TO HURT ME

LEAVE ME ALONE! YOUR "PERSONAL BLOG" IS PUBLIC! ANYONE CAN VIEW IT, AND MY STALKERS ARE! SEVERAL OF THEM SENT ME MESSAGES ABOUT THIS! THATS PART OF THE REASON I KNEW YOU WERE POSTING ABOUT ME!!!!!!! BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT BEING SUBTLE OR VAGUE ENOUGH!!!!! PEOPLE KNOW THAT YOU ARE FUCKING TALKING ABOUT ME!!!!!

YOU CANNOT SIT THERE AND PREACH TO ME ABOUT MOVING ON WHEN YOU WILL NOT SHUT UP ABOUT ME! EVERY DAY THE FRIENDS OF MINE WHO YOU ARE STILL IN THE NOTIFICATIONS OF TELL ME OF SOME NEW DUMB BULLSHIT YOU HAVE SAID ABOUT ME! I AM NOT OVER HERE SAYING BULLSHIT ABOUT YOU! AND IT IS A LITTLE HARD TO "MOVE ON" WHEN YOU ARE PUTTING MY FUCKINF FRIENDS' LIVES IN DANGER

ACT LIKE A FUCKING ADULT. YOU ARE FUCKING INSANE. IT IS INSANE THAT YOU HAVE CONVINCED YOURSELF THE WAY YOU ARE BEHAVING IS ACCEPTABLE JUST BECAUSE YOU TALK WITH A CALM VOICE AND REPEATEDLY POST PERFORMATIVE SHIT ABOUT HOW GREAT YOURE DOING. LEAVE ME ALONE. LEAVE MY FRIENDS ALONE. YOUR PERSONAL BLOG IS PUBLIC. MY STALKERS ARE ON IT AND THEY ARE USING YOU. AND YOU ARE GIVING THEM WHAT THEY WANT. OF COURSE I THINK YOU ARE TRYING TO HURT ME, YOU WILL NOT LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!

YOUR BOYFRIEND HAS LITERALLY BEEN A MIDDLEMAN BEFORE YOU HAVE DONE THE EXACT SAME THING DESPITE ME NOT EVEN HAVING YOU BLOCKED?!?!?! THE FUCJ AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!?!?! JUST STAND BY WHILE YOU PUT MT FRIENDS' LIFE IN DANGER?!?!?? IF I AHD A WAY TO CKNTACT YOU DIRECTLY I WOULD YOU FUCKING FOOL

leave me alone just fucking leave me alone!!!!!! Practice what you preach and stop fucking talking about me!!!!

#wordy wendy #im so fucking furious #this motherfucker is mentally certifiably fucking unwell #he invented an insane fucking version of our relationship and punished me for not subscribing to it #and now he is PUTTING MY FRIENDS' LIVES IN FUCKING DANGER #I'M GOING TO FUCKING SCREAM AND CRY AND THROW UP #i hate this so fucking much i hate having public beef i fucking hate doing shit like this but it is NEXT LEVEL NOW #REAL PEOPLES FUCKING LIVES ARE IN DANGER #DO YOU HAVE ANY EMPATHY AT ALL? DO YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING COMPASSION? #THERAPY. PROFESSIONAL HELP #THERE IS SOMETHING SO FUCKING WRONG WITH YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #GOD. FUCK. #THIS WILL NOT HURT ME. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT THIS WILL NOT HURT ME? #THE ONLY PERSON THIS WILL HURT IS AN INNOCENT WOMAN WHO DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG TO YOU #WHAT IS FUCKING WRONG WITH YOU

[soracities]

if we should protect children because they are vunerable, this means you would protect cruel children who bullies people who different than them then. the children who responsible to trauma for someone else's entire years

You're assuming that "protecting" children is the same as absolving them of responsibility and that's not what I said. All children are vulnerable, because all children are children; they don't come out of the womb with a perfectly working moral compass anymore than they come out of it waiting to hurt people--they're vulnerable because their understanding of the world is entirely at the mercy of what we, as adults, consistently tell them and show them. Children behaving cruelly aren't exempt from that--they learn that cruelty from somewhere, or someone. Your job, as the adult, is to make sure they understand that it's unacceptable so it will not happen again--but your job is also to ask why someone that young is behaving this way to begin with, so you can ensure they become better.

"Protecting" kids is not ignoring when they hurt or torment others, it's not refusing to teach them consequences or right from wrong, it's not "zero tolerance" policies in schools that treat a child being bullied and the child bullying them as equal instigators, and it's certainly not protecting them from recognizing, and atoning for, the pain they have caused someone else. You don't have to make peace with the now-adults who hurt you when you both were kids, but you cannot let the horrors of your own childhood impact how you treat or respond to the children living theirs around you right now, either.

You don't protect kids so they can get a free pass for bullying or tormenting another child. You protect them because kids are impulsive, emotionally reactive, and profoundly social (which means deeply impressionable) human beings who are still learning & processing insane amounts of information every day about what it means to be alive, to be alive as yourself, to be alive as yourself with other people. Protecting them is realising that you can't isolate the responsibility of a 10 year old from the bigger responsibility of the literal grown adults around them, adults who are in charge of teaching them about the world and how to behave in it. Whether you have children of your own in the future or not is completely irrelevant to this; we all become those adults eventually--no matter what happened to us as kids.

#ask #Anonymous #i dont want to keep repeating myself on this but we're all carrying fucked up and traumatizing childhoods to some extent and if you want to #spare another child going through the same thing the solution is not to hate on children bc they didnt ask to be born any more than the res #of us did. but they're here now and what are you going to tell them while they are? #what kind of an adult and what kind of a compass are you going to become for them during the time they're learning about being alive? #and if you decide its not your problem the minute this child says or does something fucked up and that they're a lost cause at the age of 8 #bc their impulse control is shitty and their empathy & understanding is still buffering then that is part of the problem. they learn what #they're doing is okay and then they keep doing it--to other kids and years later other adults. our world is fucked up and makes fucked up #people and if you have it in your ability to limit that damage at its most formative and dangerous point then why wouldn't you? #notes from elsewhere

[gendercriticalthinking]

The way that my friend felt disappointed when he found out as a kid that an androgynous character he idolized was a woman because he quote "couldn't relate to the character anymore" and the way that the creator of Celeste """discovered he was non-binary""" because he wrote a female character that he was able to relate to are branches off of the same vein of misogyny I think

#gender critical #misogyny #it's all about the often-subconscious belief that women are subhuman or at least inherently lesser than men for being different from them #for the first dude: literally every woman on earth who consumes media relates to so fucking many male characters. they are our favorites. #some of them are so beloved by us that we believe we must actually be men because we can relate so hard to them. i went through this myself #(which is kind of what's going on with the second dude but i'll get to that) #yet for some reason a lot of men have a hard time relating to female characters in any way similar at all. there are zero men writing #obsessive (affectionate) thoughtful intelligent analyses of their favorite female charas' arcs and symbolism #(in part because so few media have any well-written and actually-humanized female charas to be able to do that with but also...) #because men see women as possibly-human fuck toys for them and nothing else #so when even self-proclaimed/usually feminist men relate to a female character outside of 'i want to fuck this' it makes them feel weird #bc male sexuality (this includes osa men i'm sorry to say but i've observed so many men like an anthropologist i see the same behavior #in all of them) is so centered around humilation/domination/aggression that it's not compatible with compassion/empathy #so for them to relate to a female (character or person) they get this weird-feeling psychological thing kinda similar to that joke of #'if you punch yourself and it hurts are you weak or strong?' but in this case it's 'if you relate to a sex object should you start thinking #you're also a sex object or should you let go of your momentary empathy for the sex object?' #and dude no. 1 took the latter path while dude no. 2 took the former #well in a way. his thing is more like 'if i am a human (bc i'm a man) and i can relate to a woman... does that mean women are human #or does it mean i am a woman?' and he picked the second route #i know agp vs hsts is (was?) the main grouping system radfems use(d?) to explain the different types of tims #and to some extent those labels do work especially since they're centered around sexuality which plays a huge role in trans identities #but i feel like it's either more accurate to just use the following labels or at least add them into the venn diagram: #some tims are trans because they see women as sex toys and enjoy the thought of being a sex toy themselves therefore they want to be women #while other tims are trans because they've othered the sex-object class of humans so hard that if they ever accidentally relate to a woman #it's a mindblowing discovery and makes them part of The Other (women are still of course treated as The Other for this to work) and #therefore super special (and of course more special than women because they're sex objects + The Other whereas #he is a man aka a human + The Other. this is especially true when men decide they're nb like guy no. 2 as opposed to trans women because #again women = sex toy to men so any men who do not want to be objectified are a different kind of Other to women [which to them consists of #females and trans women] but they still are The Other in some way and therefore must be both a man [human] and something else) #these concepts appeal to both osa and ssa men depending on what level/flavor of misogyny they cling to most and how gnc they are

[a-hazbin-reader]

Charlie X Reader Headcanons

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: Distressed Charlie, Charlie needing support, Finale spoilers

Description: Charlie X Motherly!Reader, Charlie handling a reader that acts motherly towards her

Charlie is often seen as someone who is sweet, kind and supportive because that's who she is

All of her strength and energy goes into her friends and helping her people, she doesn't really have time to think about herself

And it's hard for her to open up to the people around her, especially if she feels like she has to always be happy in front of them

Almost like that's her whole problem

She doesn't even realize how overwhelmed she is until she's alone, stuck with her thoughts and lost in her own head

Charlie doesn't even realize she's crying until she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder, looking up to see your worried face

She tries to wipe away her tears and give you a watery smile but you see right through her

"Charlie dear, what's wrong?"

You just broke the dam

Just hug her and stroke her hair softly and she'll eventually tucker herself out

After she unloads everything on her plate, she's expecting you to be disappointed in her, to tell her she needs to toughen up

Charlie is practically moved to tears when instead you show her kindness, compassion and empathy, making her feel safe in your arms

The relationship between you two changes after that

You always know when she needs some motherly advice or just a shoulder to cry on, practically sensing it

You're always there to try and help her solve a problem, and if she doesn't want you to fix her problems then you'll be there to just hold her

You literally give the most soothing, warm, loving hugs and she loves it

Everyone else is secretly wanting a hug from you too

If there's anyone that's intimidating her or making her uncomfortable then she subconsciously moves closer to you, seeking your protection

And boy do you protect your bby gurl

Looks to you for advice, especially when dealing with Alastor or any other of the overlords(or angels)

Charlie comes to you when she needs relationship advice, hangs onto your every word

Especially if you're embarrassed to get into that topic

She often wonders how you could be in hell, what it was that you did to land you in here, was it really that bad??

Sometimes she catches herself thinking of you as her mother

Then feels guilty 😔

But fuck Lilith that beach going bitch

Almost calls you "Mom" and is so mortified that she misses the swell of pride in your chest

Everyone else already sees you as the group mom

If not then they at least refer to you as Charlie's mom but never to either of your faces

Charlie feels safe around you and knows she can trust you with anything, knows that you'll do your best to do right by her

To protect her and her ideals, that you just want to nurture the best parts of her

Like a mother would do

#hazbin hotel x reader #charlie x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #charlie hazbin x reader #charlie hazbin hotel x reader

[sapphire-weapon]

When Capcom sat down to write RE4make and Separate Ways, they had to have a moment of reckoning when it came to Ada's character:

Do they continue to write out her romance with Leon, or

Do they commit to her role as an ambiguous third party agent keeping her fingers in all of the pies?

They chose the latter. They chose the latter because it was more important, narratively. And they couldn't have both, because having both doesn't make any fucking sense and never has made any fucking sense.

Ada is a selfish character, at her core. To have her constantly be soft for Leon undermines that selfishness and makes her other actions not make any sense; if she cared that much about him, why would she continuously serve the bad guys that make his life a living hell? And the reverse is also true. Why would she care so much about Leon if all he does is get in her way and act as a distraction for her?

So anyone who complains that RE4make's Separate Ways didn't show Ada caring enough about Leon -- that was the point. They solidified her identity as a character by doing that.

The writers of the Remake series made a conscious decision to make Leon and Ada's interactions/relationship in RE2make serve an actual function/purpose for their characters instead of "uwu they're in love."

For Leon -- Ada taught him that the people opposed to him aren't always bad guys. She taught him the true lesson of "the road to Hell is paved with good intentions." He learned to trust that little voice in the back of his head that tells him "something's not right here." She also taught him that there's a way to do the right thing without following the rules -- and, sometimes, by breaking them entirely.

For Ada -- Leon taught her that being independent doesn't mean self-isolating -- because just looking out for herself and no one else actually resulted in her just keeping her head down and not asking questions, which screwed her over big time in the end. Leon didn't teach her love or compassion or empathy; he showed her that she was actually being just as naive as he was, just on the other side of the fight.

Basically, they both taught each other: QUESTION EVERYTHING. Because that was the one thing that neither of them did in RE2make until it was way, way too late.

And so, in RE4make/Separate Ways, Ada spends far less time and emotional energy worrying about Leon because she's actually taking the lesson he taught her to heart and she's questioning the people and circumstances around her in order to protect herself. That was the point of her early voiceover about how Raccoon City changed her perspective and made her start asking where her efforts were going and why she was doing what she was sent to do.

She doesn't ask questions for moral reasons. She asks them for selfish ones. Because Ada is an inherently selfish character.

On the boat, Leon asks Ada: "Are you just trying to use me again?" and Separate Ways answers and repeats over and over and over again: YES. The only reason she helps Leon in the village and at Mendez's house is so that he can continue being useful for her. Because Leon didn't teach her to care about people; Leon only taught her how to better take care of herself -- the same way she did for him.

This is a really damning exchange of words:

So, yes -- Ada is using Leon in RE4make. Yes, she only helps him because it benefits her. No, she genuinely doesn't care whether he lives or dies. Yes, she meant it when she told Leon to leave Ashley for dead, and yes, her sole reason for doing it was to get Ashley out of the way because Ada found Leon's new demeanor hot and she wanted to fuck him. No, she had no intention of taking Ashley with them on the chopper at the end -- because yes, her invitation to Leon was a bookend to her earlier offer for Leon to leave Ashley and go fuck her (Ada) instead.

And that's why Leon tells her to go fuck herself and shakes his head in utter disbelief when she asks if he's coming with her.

Because Ada is a selfish character.

I don't say this to hate on the character or even express dislike for her. This doesn't make her a bad character -- in fact, the opposite is true. It makes her consistent, which makes her a better written character overall from what/who she was in OG.

It also doesn't make her evil or a bad guy. Ada Wong is the most Chaotic Neutral character in the entire RE series -- even moreso than Billy Coen or Jake Muller ever were. She's in it for herself, and that particular approach is neither inherently morally good nor evil.

But Aeon is dead canonically in the Remake-verse. It was sacrificed in the name of bringing consistency and logic to both characters.

And that was the true point of the boat scene.

Neither of them have changed who they are at their most fundamental level. Leon is still the selfless hero, and Ada is still the selfish spy. Their relationship in RE2make served as a strengthening of those core traits -- not an erosion of them. Leon can better protect and save Ashley because of the lessons that Ada taught him, and Ada can successfully outmaneuver Wesker because of the lessons that Leon taught her.

But that doesn't change who she is. It doesn't change who either of them are. In fact, it only served to create a more authentic version of them both. Leon is more zealous in his heroism, and Ada is more committed to her own self-preservation and naked about her selfish intentions.

The only people in RE4make who changed who they were were Luis and Krauser. Luis for the better, and Krauser for the worse. And they both paid for it with their lives.

#resident evil 4 #separate ways #leon kennedy #ada wong #meta analysis

[torchickentacos]

Okay, let's fucking go over this, actually! No more quietly throwing my thoughts in tags. If you'd unfollow for this then I don't want you here anyways. Feel free to reblog. Regarding the nonconsensual Taylor Swift AI porn.

1.) it's disgusting to say that sexual harassment was "worth it" if legislation gets passed because of the harassment. I see your sentiment, I know we all want more control over how AI can and cannot be used. We can hope for change after this, yes. But it's still awful to say that an incredibly public, graphic image of a gang rape was "worth it". Assault and harassment should not have to be 'productive', or have an 'end goal', to warrant the utmost compassion and empathy towards the victim. It's abhorrent to say that someone's humiliation, pain, violation of privacy and consent, was worth it. Even if we got ai images fully regulated immediately. That's not worth it.

Sexual harassment cannot, and never will be, 'worth it'.

2.) it's disgusting to see that the response to this is "I don't like her, but-", or "fuck taylor swift, but-", or "I hate her and swifties, but-". Not sure what compels people to see a woman who just got, call it what it is, SEXUALLY HARASSED ON A GLOBAL SCALE, and to then immediately chronicle the ways they hate her before giving some weak and vague call to action towards swifties. We get it. You hate her. Might as well kick her while she's down because images of her being gang raped just got circulated, huh? Nobody's asking you to like her, but TIME and PLACE, my friends. If you're going to hate her to a weirdly involved and passionate degree, do it maybe not in the tags of posts showing support to her right now.

3.) it's disgusting to see that people think this is not a big deal because she's rich, or because of the airplane thing, or whatever your gripe with her is that I'm sure I'll hear about in the tags anyways. Buddy, she could be the poorest person on earth or the richest. She could be an angel or a devil, does not fucking matter. What matters is that this should not happen to ANYONE, regardless of literally any demographic or status you can throw at them. Consent is nonnegotiable, no matter who's the one giving it or not. The worst person in the entire world deserves to have their consent and basic human dignity respected. Yes, even that person. Morality is not some flexible thing you only give to people you like or agree with. And if it is, I question just how moral your morality really is.

Again. Feel free to reblog.

#tw sa #taylor swift #ai

[animentality]

I found a weird subreddit called r/dogfree and it's basically a hate cult obsessed with talking about how dogs are the worst creature in existence and all they do is bite and kill people and they should all be put down and smell bad, yada yada.

there was a post with this OP who was like, "dog nutters think people who don't like dogs don't have any compassion!! I know this because the other day one of my friends was too scared to tell me that he had to put his dog down!! can you believe that? then I held my ground and continued to tell him my stance on how much I hate dogs and then he accused me of lacking empathy and stopped talking to me!!"

and it's like.

kinda funny??!

like dude. reading between the lines here.

he was too scared to tell you he was grieving his fucking pet... and then you started ranting about how much you hate dogs, to someone who just lost theirs.

like. do you not see... you lack fucking empathy.

you can dislike or not want dogs and still have empathy. but you completely lacked empathy there.

and your friend deserves better than you.

I don't like spiders or anything but my friend lost a tarantula and I held a funeral with him.

that's real empathy.

not hating a specific animal so much that you rail against its species AND anyone who likes it, even when their fucking pet just died.

it's just funny.

it's funny.

reddit is full of nutters.

#dogs

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight - Part 4: One Way Or Another

📜Midge... Don't....Don't... Ugh, never mind. She's going to do it anyway.

I had to split the chapter again! I didn't want to overwhelm the word count, so the banner I posted before will be used for the next one! Which will be posted within the next few days!

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Verbal fights, bullying, description of injury (A bruised wrist), camping, and pranks.

#4.4k

Part 3 | Masterlist | Part 5

The first rays of sunlight shining through the canvas of your tent are what stir you awake the following morning.

It’s a struggle to open your eyes with the aftermath of how much you cried yourself to sleep last night. The skin under your eyes and your eyelids simply ache, and you want to sink yourself down into the ground, never to be seen nor heard from again.

However, each gentle breeze caressing the side of your tent and each chirp of a nearby bird is slowly coaxing you out of your sleep. It seems peaceful, serene even. Like all was right in the world.

Then the first sharp throb of your wrist pulsed up your arm, and you were dragged back to the harsh reality of what was this fucking mistake of a trip.

Right. The fall. Your wrist. The two she-devils.

Seresin.

You can’t help but cringe as you cradle your wrist to your chest, willing each aching pulse to fuck off and go away. There was no way you’d be able to paint today or tomorrow. Maybe even the rest of the week. The realization stung so sharply you wanted to cry - you'd miss out on all the prime spots, the best angles and outlooks, even the waterfall today, all because the fucking asshole decided to scream, “Look out, there’s a bear!”

If there were ever a time for you to swear at the universe for the cruel joke it was playing on you, taking away your only solace and leaving you with nothing but anger, frustration and one Jake Seresin to put up with, you'd find the tallest mountain in the park and scream, "Go to hell."

You opened your eyes to the thought, staring at the corner of the roof of your tent. While you might not be able to hold a paintbrush, there were other things you could do to pass the time.

Eagerly sitting up and sliding your legs out of your sleeping bag, you reached for your clothes and quickly got changed, hoping no one else was up. If you had any chance at getting back at Jake for your predicament, you couldn't be seen doing it.

It had to be a prank. Something classy and of the same calibre he started, but enough to drive home the fact two could play at this game. And that you wouldn't resort to his level by injuring him - not that you could.

To your surprise, when you finally opened your tent, hoping to take in the morning air, you were treated to the sight of the map in its clear plastic bag and the silver compass placed directly on top, sitting on the ground in front of you. You had forgotten them completely last night in your haste to escape the chaos and embarrassment, and for a moment, you stood there, wondering who had done such a thing.

It was a small act of kindness, one that quieted your anger towards Jake for a moment.

Your mind raced through every person who could have done such a thing - Nat with her concern from last night. Bob's quiet kindness, perhaps Grace or Cora, both of whom had shown moments of empathy and understanding. Even Maybe Mickey, or Javy or Rueben, to make up for their girlfriend's behaviour.

The thought that it might have been Jake briefly flickered through your mind, but you quickly dismissed it. He sought out every opportunity to tease, provoke, and hurl insults at you when he could, and you felt stupid for even entertaining such a thought.

With a mixture of curiosity and gratitude, you made a mental note to find out who was responsible and thank them for the kind gesture.

Lifting your head, you took in a deep breath, the crisp morning air filling your lungs and the earthy scent of the woods filling your nose. Light filtered through the trees, and their leaves seemed to rustle with the breeze. Along with the birds, you could have sworn you heard a squirrel or chipmunk, too.

Something had to be wrong. The campsite was too quiet.

Unlike yesterday, when Jake woke everyone up with his crazy-ass antics, everyone was still content to be tucked safely into their sleeping bags. You looked around, half expecting to see him lurking about somewhere or about to stir up trouble.

While his tent had been left open, he was nowhere to be found.

The metaphorical light bulb went off above your head with the realization you had your chance to set up and cause some shit without ruining it for anyone else.

The smile that crossed your face at that thought alone could have rivalled even that of the Jokers.

Approaching the firepit, the memory of last night still fresh in your mind, you noticed Jake had already taken down the food cooler from the nearby tree. It sat next to the little stone monument, waiting for Bradley or Nat to start handing out everyone's food packs.

You checked over your shoulder once, then twice to see if the coast was clear, before kneeling down and carefully flipping open the lid. You searched each one until you came across Jake's and your own, pulling them out and placing them side by side.

The little bottle of sugar Jake had brought with him for his coffee was at the top of the bag. You smirked in glee, knowing Jake would have no idea you messed with his bag, given its easy position. The man was so anal about things, his hair, his outfits, he'd notice if it had somehow fallen to the bottom of his bag.

Then, you found what you wanted out of yours.

Your container of salt.

It was the only thing you could think of right now. Fuck with his coffee, or at least something that he could put into his coffee. It was cheap. It was harmless. Probably even childish. But considering he actively went out of his way yesterday to prevent you from having yours, this was fair game.

Grabbing a spare container from your bag, you quickly unscrewed the lid, pouring Jake's sugar out into the safety of the container before reaching for the salt. You worked as fast as you could with your injured hand, grimacing as you tried to prevent any grains from spilling over as you refilled Jake's bottle.

After pouring his sugar into your own bottle, you quickly tidied up, making sure there was no evidence of your impromptu switch. You stood up, wondering what else you could do with the time you had or if something as simple as that would be enough, at least for today.

But the sight of Jake's tent, left wide and open, was another opportunity you had to take advantage of... Right?

It wasn't like Jake to leave his tent open. It either meant he intended to come back right away, or he forgot he had even left it open. You looked to the trailhead, then to the general direction of the area the group had chosen as 'the bathroom.' Jake still hadn't made his grand appearance.

"You shouldn't,' the angel on your shoulder screamed.

"Do it," the devil on the other murmured.

Your feet carried you forward, and you hesitantly approached his tent as if you were about to be arrested for murder. Resting at the entrance was his fishing bag, and you kneeled, undoing the zipper just enough to peer inside.

There was a tackle box full of hooks, lures, and other small items—a couple of bobbers and sinkers, snap connectors and an extra fish gripper. There was a knife and even a roll of fishing line; you gave into the urge to pull them out the second you saw them.

The lack of his fishing rod indicated he had definitely gone off and found a body of water or pond to go and attempt to catch something. It made you anxious, knowing you were working on borrowed time. Without really thinking, you unsheathed the knife from its case, letting out a painful yelp, only to spin out some of the wire and cut a sizeable length of it against the ground.

What for? You had no idea. But you had time to think about that later. The possibilities of what you could do with something like a piece of wire out here in the wilderness were endless.

Your heart rate spiked when you heard voices coming from one of the tents, and you quickly tried to put everything back where you found it. You shoved the wire into your back pocket and accidentally popped open the tackle box as you jammed the knife back inside.

Your hand screamed at you, already pushed to its max, as you scrambled to carefully pick up the fallen hooks from within Jake's bag, already knowing you probably missed a couple. One caught on your bandage, and you didn't bother removing it as you snapped the lid shut and zipped up his bag.

Racing back to your tent, the zipper of Bob and Grace's tent was being pulled up. You skidded to a stop and kneeled next to the map, swearing softly to yourself as you grabbed the stowe-away hook and shoved it into the front pocket of your pants.

You could only hope Bob thought you were getting up and emerging from your tent for the first time this morning.

Bob stepped out, having seen nothing of your hasty retreat back to your tent, and offered you a soft "good morning' accompanied by a smile.

"Morning, Bob," you greeted him with a smile of your own, trying to calm your breathing. "Do you know who did this? I want to thank them."

Bob looked down to where you were pointing and shook his head. "Sorry, Maeve. I didn't see who. It was there when Grace and I went to bed last night, though."

Not Bob. Or Grace. Hmm.

With nothing else better to do, you offered to help Bob start the campfire while Grace got ready. You arranged the kindling and small logs as Bob gathered some of the bigger ones Bradley had cut the day before. It was a few minutes before the two of you got a decent-sized setup, and in that time, Grace had joined you two, promising to get to the coffee first so you'd have a cup before venturing out for the day. 

You always thought her name suited her - literally always a saving grace. 

You held up one of the sticks as you were breaking up a few to add to the pile, twirling it as you inspected the top. "This would make for a good Marshmellow stick."

Bob dropped the log he'd picked up into the pit before settling himself down next to you. He reached out and took the stick from your hand, playing with the top of it like you would messing around with the sharp edge of a knife.

"This one?" Bob said, examining the stick closely. "Nah, it's too flimsy. It'd catch fire before you got that perfect char." 

You quickly catch on to his meaning, and you gasped at him in horror. "Bobby, No.. that's just...a Marshmellow shouldn't be crunchy."

"I've always made them like that!" he exclaimed in protest.

"That is so wrong, so so wrong!" you cried out. Grace makes a gagging noise in agreement with you. "The burnt part is carcinogenic, Bob. Listen to Maeve," she tried to encourage him. 

"You can always take the burnt stuff off," he pouts. 

"That's not the point of a Marshmellow on a stick. You want them crispy, not fired to hell."

"Is that where you make yours?"

You turn your head towards him, shocked. Then, a bout of soft giggles racks your body as Bob starts to sport a grin. "Damn, you woke up snarky this morning."

"It's not my fault you two like eating fluffy clouds and chalk dust," he joked, knocking your shoulder playfully. You and Grace share a look and continue to giggle, shaking your heads.

It took a little bit for Bob and you to get the flames to catch. But eventually, after some poking, prodding and waving, the flames erupted and grew steadily, crackling happily.

You stood to high-five Bob, celebrating after your struggle. But just over Bob's shoulder, you see Jake walking down the path, fishing rod in hand, and it quiets you instantly. His gait was easy, and he appeared lost in his thoughts, watching each of the steps he took. He seemed tired, with bags under his eyes and his face weary.

You missed the way Grace and Bob shared a look at one another.

Once he reached the edge of the camp, Jake lifted his head, his eyes immediately meeting yours. You want to glance away, but you can't bring yourself to. There's a strange mix of emotions swirling inside you - curiosity, irritation, maybe something else you can't quite put your finger on.

Jake holds your gaze for all but two seconds before it's travelling down to the bandage on your wrist. He knits his brow, and a pained expression strikes his face. It's enough for you to instinctively tuck your arm behind your back and drop your chin to your chest in embarrassment.

Grace calls out that the coffee is ready, and you twist, reaching for the cup she's holding out to you. You grab it eagerly, offering a quiet 'thank you' and bringing it up to rest just before your nose, taking a deep breath.

The smell seems to calm you down but does nothing for the image of Jake's reaction to your wrist playing in your head.

Was that guilt you saw? Or lack of sleep? Did he lose sleep over it? Over what happened last night? He did try to call for you. But why? Why? The idea that Jake might actually feel remorse was unsettling, challenging even.

Despite yourself, you glanced back over your shoulder. Jake was already gone, off to greet Mickey good morning with a hug and slap on the back, and you felt ashamed for even having looked.

'No, it couldn't be,' you mused to yourself, 'Jake's not the type to feel guilty.'

You smiled into the rim of your coffee for a moment, thinking about what he might do or react when he tasted your salty surprise.

"What are you smiling about?"

You jumped as Mickey bumped your shoulder with his. "It's too quiet for the two of you this morning."

You shrugged, trying to suppress your grin. "Maybe he's feeling guilty for yesterday. I don't purposely start shit with him, Mickey. You know that."

Mickey didn't answer you. Rather, he reached for your hand, carefully lifting it up so he could inspect your wrist. "Can I take a look at it, Maeve? Please? I promise to be gentle."

You sighed. "I know, I did a shit job of wrapping it last night."

Mickey shook his head. "I only want to make sure there isn't any permanent damage."

You paused for a second before nodding. You let Mickey guide you over to his chair, allowing him to help you sit with a gentle hand on your elbow. He kneeled in front of you, placing your arm on your lap as he worked on undoing your bandage.

"How's the pain?" he asked as he started to unwrap it.

"It doesn't hurt as much as it did last night, though it's throbbing a bit."

"That's probably some swelling," he offered, not unkindly. Mickey made sure you kept your eyes on him as he unveiled the damage, hoping to provide you with some reassurance. You appreciated it, knowing you'd jump to conclusions before knowing how bad it truly was.

He had already unwrapped your arm when he lifted his head, about to ask you if you were ready to see the damage on your wrist, when his eyes tracked some movement behind you. The corner of his mouth wobbled, and he shook his head, immediately setting his back on to you. You went to look, hoping to change whatever caused him to frown when a quip from the other side of the campsite stopped you.

"Need someone to kiss your boo'-boos, Midge?"

Oh, that bitch!

Mickey stopped what he was doing in favour of placing a hand on your thigh, preventing you from leaping up out of your chair. You tense at the touch, and you are sure it's the only thing holding you back. But you wouldn't be you if you didn't offer some type of snarky reply in kind.

It was there, ready to be unleashed. That was until you heard Jake's voice boom from somewhere behind you, the man stepping forward as if he were on a mission.

"Oh, would you give it a fucking rest, Jessica? Unless you're a certified medic now," he points to Mickey, "I doubt your expertise extends to anything beyond Instagram filters and badly photoshopped pictures."

What. The. Fuck.

Your mouth drops. Your face flushes. And you can't help but stare up at Jake as he confronts them - On your behalf. There's even collective 'oohs' filling the camp, and Bradley's rapidly looking back and forth between you, Jake, and Jessica, wondering what the hell happened to warrant such a reaction.

It's the first time you've ever heard Jake speak to Jessica like that, let alone defend you. Are you not sure how you're supposed to feel about the response? Grateful? Happy? Appreciative? Angry he felt the need to defend you?

Why the hell did he defend you?

"She got hurt last night," he points out sharply. "So I don't understand what your point is in saying that. And honestly, it's just getting old and, frankly, pathetic."

Jessica's eyes widen and her face starts to turn red, her rounded cheeks almost looking like cherries. She jolted back, recoiling as if he had dealt her an invisible blow, and her gaze briefly darts to Rueben, then back to Jake.

Conflict is written all over her face.

"Come on, Jake, she didn't mean it like that?" Veronica counters, stepping forward to slide her arm under Jessica's in support.

And in a surprising turn of events, Jake starts to laugh. Mockingly.

To them.

"How does she mean it then?" he turns to Veronica, sarcasm laced into his tone. "What's the point? A Joke? Scarastic comment?"

Jake's face suddenly lights up, a look you are all too familiar with when going head-to-head against him. You cannot help but chant inside your head, Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

"Maybe throwing a peace sign up at the end of it as you do in your photos would have helped, but I can't say that's what I would have done when someone has been hurt."

You could swear your heart was beating out of your chest. This didn't make sense.

"Come on, Man, that's not right. Anyone who knows her should know she's not like that." It's Ruben, this time, standing up for his girlfriend, though you can detect a bit of nerves in his tone. 

And Jake sneers. Sneers! "Some shakey moral high ground, if you ask me."

"Dude..."

Jake shakes his head, grabbing Rueben by the elbow and pulling him close. He whispers something into his ear, and Rueben's eyes widen. It makes you grip the armrest tighter, maybe in some mediocre attempt to assure yourself you didn't fall down a hole instead of your tent last night and wake up in an alternate dimension.

"It's just badly bruised. Nothing's broken, and the tendon is fine. I would try to keep it wrapped, though."

Mickey prodded at your bruise, and you hissed from the pain, immediately drawing your eyes away from the interaction, finally taking in the damage done to your wrist.

It's ugly, to say the least. It's somewhat ironic that you are already comparing it to smudges on a painter's palette rather than something real and painful marking your own body.

The centre of the bruise was a deep, angry purple, the colour rich and dark, indicating just exactly where you hit the ground. Surrounding it was a halo of different shades of blue, varying in intensity. Some looked like deep twilight, while others were lighter, reminiscent of faded denim. And there was an edge of yellow-green, giving the false impressing it was beginning to heal, though it was very much a fresh injury.

The sight only confirms what you thought this morning. There was no chance you'd be painting at any point while on this trip.

"I'm going to get Cora to wrap it again to relieve some of the swelling. She'd have our asses if we don't let her do it."

You shutter. "Don't I know it."

As Mickey left to find Cora, you tried to figure out what happened. While everyone else had finally woke up and was venturing around the camp, Jessica and Veronica were nowhere to be found. Neither was Rueben, for that matter. Jake, however, was extending his Yeti mug towards Grace with a grateful nod, who was going around filling cups of coffee after having watched the spectacle.

You knew what was coming next. Sitting on his chair was his food bag, and Jake kneeled next to it, placing the mug on the ground to rummage through it. To your surprise, the sight fills you with guilt, and you battle the urge to tell him what you did.

After all, he didn't need to call out Jessica for what she said. But the angel and devil on your shoulder are vying for your attention, and you don't know which one you should listen to.

Be the better person, Maeve. Tell him not to drink it.

Sit back and watch the show, Midge. He deserves it.

Your internal conflict of should or shouldn't is decided for you when Jake finally grabs onto the tiny bottle and dumps a little bit into his coffee. You scrunch your face as he closes the lid and lifts the Tumblr to his lips to take his first sip.

His reaction was immediate, sputtering out his coffee with the grace of an angry camel, and his mug fell to the ground with a loud clank. He stands, racing off towards the bush, coughing and gagging as if he were about to bring up whatever was in his stomach.

You wouldn't be surprised if he did.

But where you thought you'd be rolling in laughter and enjoying his little misery, you're wincing instead. Both elated he was getting a small ounce of karma and mad he had to be anything but kind this morning.

"Why is Jake gagging and throwing up his breakfast over in the bush?" Cora asked as she kneeled down in the same spot Mickey had been.

"Not too sure. Maybe he mistook the salt for sugar instead," you answered her, holding out your wrist for her to wrap.

Cora had already picked up your bandage from where Mickey had placed it in the cup holder when she regarded you for a moment.

She shook her head. "Midge, you didn't."

You eyed her as she started to wrap your arm. "You can't tell me he didn't deserve it after this?" you say, lifting your arm as she securely tightens your bandage around your thumb.

Cora bites her lip in concentration for a second, careful to mind your hand as she pulls the bandage tight, allowing for relief but mindful of how much it hurts. You let out a soft cry as she pulled the material over the most painful part of your wrist.

"I suppose it's a harmless prank," she remarked once the worst of it was over.

"Be glad it didn't do more."

Cora lifted her head, though she didn't stop wrapping your hand. "Did you do more?"

You shook your head. "I'm not saying anything."

And you didn't want to, even if you did or didn't. Jake was alarmingly kind this morning, and anything you said or did in addition to this would make you that bitch in all of this. Cora would be the last person on earth to judge you for pulling shit like this, but that didn't mean the rest of the group would.

It seems your point is nearly proven, too, when Nat pulls you aside in the breakfast line, glaring at you like a mother extremely disappointed in her kid.

"Is that it?" she asked you firmly, jerking her head over towards Jake. "With him?"

She stood with her arms crossed, her posture rigid, and you only offered her a small, toothy grin. "You can't tell me he doesn't deserve a little karma for this," you say, holding up your wrist.

Nat eyed your hand, her face still hard. "You got hurt last night, Maeve. If the two of you keep this up, it's going to escalate, and things are going to get worse."

You shrugged. "It's just a harmless prank, Nat. You know I'm capable of doing much worse."

She does know, having been your accomplice back in school. The two of you were in charge of the student union's annual April Fool's trick for three years in a row. To this day, you're pretty sure some of those crickets were still alive and pissing Dr. Flynn off in his lecture hall.

There was a moment of silence as Nat weighed your words, prompting you to say, "He woke all of us up yesterday morning by banging a pan, he wanted us to lug the cooler up that hill, and he screamed bear, resulting in this," you hold up your arm. "Salt in his coffee? That's minuscule in comparison."

"Alright," she finally said, her voice firm. "But it stops there. We don't need the drama."

"Alright, Mom," you joked, grabbing a bowl of oatmeal. Satisfied with your answer, she let you go, guiding you back to your spot in the line. After collecting your bowl and while she was getting hers, you leaned over, resting your shoulder against hers.

"You got to admit, though, the look on his face was worth it alone."

Nat couldn't help it when she sputtered out a laugh at the memory, and you giggled softly as you swayed back to your tent with your food.

You wondered if something as simple as switching out sugar for salt would be enough to fuck up his day. Or if the guilt building in the pit of your stomach would stop any time soon. After all, Velma Kelly in Chicago was right.

He definitely had it coming. Anyone would have done the same.

...Right?

Careful, Maeve - Nat's not happy.. Not at all...

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Part 5 - I can't go on without you - is being edited!

~ Lucky ☘️

#horseshoegirlwrites #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x oc #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #Set Me Alight #top gun au #top gun fan fiction #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun hangman #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun x reader #hangman top gun #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin fic #jake hangman x you #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #Spotify #top gun maverick x reader #jake seresin x female reader

[venusstorm]

More Than Friends

Part One

Fear. It drove apart your friendship with Chris, it prevented him from telling you how he feels, and after a big argument, you’re left wondering if he had ever even cared.

Note: Italics indicate past events

Warnings: 18+, sexual themes, angst, you’ll probably want to fight Chris after reading

Part Two <Series Masterlist> Masterlist

 ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"What was I supposed to do?" You shout. Anger and resentment had filled your body to to the brim, just waiting to spew out and unleash onto the man before you.

"I don't fucking know! Not go and screw my costar that's for one!" Chris shouts.

You shake your head in astonishment. For years the two of you had been inseparable friends. You spent holidays with his family, he took you out every year on your birthday, he was the first person you'd call if something went wrong. Most of all, he was the one person that you ever truly loved.

But after you mistakenly confessed your feelings, it all went down hill.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"I love you," you whispered. Too fearful to make eye contact with Chris, you turned away to face the wall.

"Y/N..." he trailed off.

"I know it's terrible timing but I had to tell you before you left. It's been eating me alive and—"

"You know I love you...just not in that way," he said quietly. You feel the touch of his hand graze your shoulder as he continues. "We wouldn't make sense."

You shook your head with confusion, "what do you mean we wouldn't make sense?"

"We're amazing as friends, anything more would just be...unrealistic."

Your heart snapped. Months of waiting for the right moment to express your feelings all came down to this moment. Years of watching him go from partner to partner, complaining about how he can never find "the one," all while you were standing right there. Waiting for him. All of it was for nothing.

"Okay." You mouthed.

You couldn't bring yourself to look at him. Those blue eyes of his would surely be staring at you with empathy and compassion. The last thing you needed was for him to feel sorry for you. How clueless could you be? If Chris wanted something more he would've done so by now.

Chris grabbed your hand, holding it tightly. “I’ll see you when I get back okay,” he states.

Sighing, you nodded. He embraced you in one last hug, and if you didn’t know any better, you thought you’d seen tears fighting to fall from his eyes.

 ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Not even a week after you confessed your feelings, Chris was seen making out with the lead actress of his new movie in London. They sat side by side in the park, a picnic spread around them as they smiled into each other's eyes.

Picnics were you and Chris’s thing. You’d drag him to the middle of some field, wildflowers sprouting everywhere and the sounds of birds cheerful noises filling your ears. He’d always bring the drinks and you’d bring an unnecessarily large amount of food. Music would blast from his speaker, but you always had control of what played. Honestly, it was your favorite thing to do in the world.

And seeing him have such an intimate one with someone else put a dagger into your heart.

At least it shook you out of the self pitying haze you had been trapped in all week. You knew at the moment that you could never be friends again. Your feelings were far too strong and heart to broken for it.

  ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You hadn't spoken to Chris in months. He'd text to check up on you, but eventually you stopped responding and he stopped asking. The only glimpses of his life you saw were on the Internet. Usually tabloids gawking about his newfound relationship with Lily James or the ridiculous Instagram stories he posted with his brother.

Despite this, you felt content. Sure you lost a friend, but you got a chance to figure yourself out. Your heart was no longer attached to a fleeting man, and instead it was free to roam as it pleased.

And roam it did.

See, as a production designer, being surrounded by talented (and gorgeous) actors was a usual. Hell, it's how you met Chris in the first place. But you hardly ever interacted with any of them. You were just another person passing them on set every day, praying that shooting goes smoothly.

So when Henry Cavill saw you standing by yourself, immersed in your cell phone, he insisted that he take you out for dinner. Apparently he had been gawking at you all week, amazed by how hardworking and beautiful you were.

Was it unprofessional? Perhaps. But were you gonna deny the god that is Henry Cavill? Hell no.

Dinner was fantastic, but what came after was even better. You found yourself stumbling into your apartment with his lips attached to yours. His hands fumbling to rip off your shirt and unclasp your lace bra.

You knew after he left that you'd probably never see him again. And you were perfectly okay with that. It just felt nice to let loose and let your heart roam free without any commitments. It was one night, and you thought you had heard the last of it...well until Chris came barging at your door a couple weeks later.

 ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"He wasn't even your co-star at the time," you gritted. "And who do you think you are dictating my sex life."

"It's kind of my business when we're all talking about life and he goes on talking about 'some girl' he fucked the other day and how he had her screaming her lungs out. Then he went on talking about how he should've gotten her number and some other bullshit. And the moment he started describing the way she looked and how he met her...I knew it was you.

"He wanted my number?" You smile. But then suddenly what he said clicked in your brain. "You all were talking about life? And Henry just so happened to bring me up?"

Chris glances away, already knowing what question you're going to ask next.

"So all of you were talking about people you recently fucked? Or just Henry?”

He knew you were asking if he too was going into detail about his sex life. You were pointing out his hypocrisy but Chris was too red with anger to care.

When Chris remains quiet you already knew your answer.

"That's not the point. How the fuck am I supposed to do an entire movie with someone after he told me in detail how he screwed my best friend?"

You flinch at the words "best friend." The two of you hadn't spoken in months, the title of "best friend" was long gone.

"Easy. Just act like it never happened," you snapped. "You seem to be good at that anyways."

Chris's face hardens. "Was this payback?"

Your hands flew into the air forcefully. "No it wasn't payback! Is it so hard to believe that someone like Henry would be interested in me?"

"Of course not! Stop making this into something it's not."

"Do you understand how much it hurt seeing you with somebody else right after I confessed years worth of bottled up feelings to you? Do you know how fucking worthless I felt seeing those tabloids?"

Chris goes silent. The tension in his face releasing as he watches you speak.

"You were my best friend...even if you didn't feel the same way, we could've talked about it. But instead you left and ignored me for months as if none of it ever happened. So no, getting with Henry fucking Cavill was not payback, it was me finally doing something that I wanted and deserved."

He spoke your name slowly. Chris knew he was disappointing you over and over, and quickly he realized that his anger was only hurting you more. 

You deserve the truth.

"Where the fuck is your girlfriend anyways? You're over here worried about me when Hollywood Insider has her plastered everywhere cozied up with Sebastian Stan! And he's supposed to be one of your closest friends too!"

Tears of anger begin to blur your vision.

Life was so much easier when you didn't have to see him. You were finally getting back on track, living how you want, and now all of that progress had come crashing down.

"It was a publicity stunt," he whispers. "We were never even together— I wanted to tell you, but my publicist advised against telling anyone. Even my family didn't know."

Your eyes narrow. "Did your publicist also say to not contact me at all?"

He releases a deep sigh, "She didn't want to risk it."

You didn't even have the energy to be upset anymore, only a numbing pain remained.

"Everyone already thought we were together. Same shit happened to Scarlett and I before she got married...hell, even happened when she was married. My publicist just didn't want to risk clashing headlines."

You simply nod, too exhausted to continue arguing. "Okay."

Chris waited for you to say more but it never came. "Okay? That's it?"

"Yes Chris. Okay. Okay you shoved me aside, okay you didn't love me how I love you, okay that you hate me for screwing Henry. Everything's fucking okay. Can you leave now?"

Chris didn't know what to say. You looked defeated, broken even, and it was all his fault. He wanted to reach out and grab you, hug you like none of this ever happened and you were still his best friend.

But he no longer had that luxury. 

Part Two

#chris evans #chris evans x you #chris evans angst #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x woc!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #best friends to lovers #chris evans character x reader

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can I maybe Request a oneshot of a Friendly alternative Reader who is comforting Mark after saving him from the other alternatives? This man needs a break..and some of his fav movies with junk food like pizza and such while wrapped in a blanket. :(

"GET OUT!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!! NOW!!"

Despite the loud shouts of the terrified human who held a gun in his trembling hands, you just calmly stared down at him. He had been screaming nonstop ever since you and two other Alternates broke into his house.

However, he didn't realize that those ones were gone...because of your intervention.

Sure, it was common for Alternates to fight each other over human victims, but you didn't chase them out just so you could take over this one's identity or drive him to suicide.

No.

You in fact arrived here to save him.

You've been watching him for quite some time--ever since that encounter with the "Intruder". Yet you never made yourself known to him, curious about his behavior as a human.

And it made you want to protect him from all things evil and vile. It sounds ironic, considering you're one of those evil and vile things that haunted his existence, and showed up at his bedroom door on this very night.

But you only look the part, deep down you've developed things like "empathy" and "compassion"...and you wanted to show Mark that you're not out to harm anybody. You hoped that by fighting the other Alternates, he'd see that and at least put the gun down.

Yet he kept it trained on you, finger on the trigger.

Every time you tried talking, he believed you're attempting to inflict MAD on him and would start shouting curses, prayers, and whatnot, demanding you to leave.

"You don't understand, little one. I'm here to help you-"

"You can "help me" by dropping DEAD!! I'll fucking do it, I swear!!" He screamed, his voice nearly giving out.

It was very much obvious that his vocal cords couldn't take the strain. With his dehydration and all of the screaming and crying he's done for hours on end--begging for his parents and for his God to help--it's a miracle he could still even speak.

But it's clear that this conversation wasn't going anywhere. Talking's not the solution.

So you decided to let him shoot you and see what happens. As much as you hated for him to learn the truth...what else could you do in this moment?

You knew the bullet wouldn't hurt, but he didn't.

When you reached for his gun, he yelled and pulled the trigger--

Yet you barely even flinched, much to his horror; not even a slight wince of pain escaped your mouth.

"Wh..What..?" Mark shuddered, eyes growing wide as they darted all over your shadowed form, not finding any wounds nor blood whatsoever.

Where the hell did the bullet go?

It was like..you absorbed it or had some bulletproof skin.

'But those broadcasts...they told us that firearms would-'

"They lied to you, Mark. No manmade weapon can kill us." You regrettably told him, seeing the realization hit him. "Despite what your government has told you, a gun will not keep you safe. We may mimic humans, but we do not follow the same laws of biology as you."

"..n-no..that's..." He seemed to be in utter denial, dropping the gun as his arms fell back to his sides. "I don't believe it.....why would they..?"

Staring at you in shock, he could see a look of sadness flashing in your eyes. And he felt tears filling up his own, his whole body trembling as he wondered what else those broadcasts could have possibly lied about.

"I-Is that true?"

"Unfortunately, yes." You nodded your head. "But that's not the only thing: your law enforcement won't be here to help. They were given orders to ignore people who cry "Alternate"...because they fear mass causalities and assimilation attempts."

".....no...I....I-I called them so many times, and they said they'd help me! They said someone was on the way!!" His voice cracked as he slumped back onto his bed, face buried in his hands; the shock was slowly becoming too much for him to handle.

"I'm sorry.." You muttered. "But nobody is coming. Those are just comforting lies disguising a painful truth."

He couldn't understand any of it.

Guns didn't work?

The police won't deal with Alternates?

Did they just give up on protecting terrified, innocent civilians like himself?

How could he put his faith in them..or anyone, for that matter?

What was the point of surviving if nobody was going to save him?

Why bother living?

Mark put his hands down, his gaze flickering to the gun on the floor. And for a brief moment he considered just ending it all...right here, right now.

He wouldn't have to hide anymore.

He wouldn't have to feel this pain.

He wouldn't have to feel so...afraid.

And yet he couldn't bring himself to immediately grab it. Instead he stared at you, wondering why you attacked those two Alternates and didn't try to harm him now that he let you in.

What was so special about him? His life was meaningless. He didn't know where Cesar was, his sister was out of town, and nobody at school noticed he was missing class...he was all alone.

If anything, he was a perfect target.

Why spare his life?

"..j-just leave me be.." Out of pure distraught, he began to weep again, curling up on the bed and hugging himself like a terrified child. Hot tears streaked down his face as he begged you to go away, not wanting to hear one more horrible truth from you.

You frowned slightly, feeling some guilt in knowing you've told this man things he didn't wish to hear; yet it wasn't anything metaphysical that would've given him a severe case of MAD.

If you went any further and mentioned that he had been praying to a false god his entire life...he probably would've grabbed that gun already.

Surely, some other Alternate would have jumped on that opportunity But not you.

Instead, you wanted to comfort him, though you weren't sure what to do at first. He wasn't threatening you, but obviously he was still quite freaked out.

So you stood up and looked around his room for anything that could help him calm down, eventually spotting a blanket tossed into the corner. It looked slightly dirty upon closer examination, but otherwise soft as you picked it up.

Looking back at Mark, you could see his head resting on his knees, shoulders trembling and jolting every other second. 'Is he cold?' You wondered.

The air did feel quite chilly in this room. Perhaps this blanket could help.

As he sensed your presence becoming closer, he raised his head rather quickly, about to scream at you to leave--

Only to stop when he felt the weight of the familiar cotton fabric being wrapped around his shoulders, and he watched your claws gently adjust it so it didn't fall off.

You kneeled in front of him, ensuring it was brought around the front of his torso, your eyes seemingly smiling at him. "Does that feel better? You must've been so cold..you humans have such fragile skin. Very vulnerable to the harsh elements of your world."

Sniffling, his eyebrows furrowed as he just stared back at you in silence, utterly dumbfounded by your behavior. Yet he couldn't help but nod in agreement to your words, feeling a warmth overcome him.

Why were you acting like this?

After all, he tried to kill you. So why were you so merciful?

He didn't know what to say.

Your eyes wandered to the home phone that was on his bed, taking it. "I learned that..humans like to eat when they're in distress. You must be famished, little lamb. You hadn't left this room for days...do you have food out there?"

"...n-no." Mark shook his head, surprised when you handed the phone to him, and he shakily grasped it. "What..do you want me to do?"

"Takeout."

"...huh..?"

"The youth of your kind like "takeout". So get takeout for yourself." Standing up, you backed away and smiled, seeing that he looked a little more comfortable.

Although he had so many questions, you simply left the room, ensuring the nightlight in the corner was still on beforehand.

He sniffled as he wiped the tears from his eyes with the blanket, sighing and staring at the numbers on the phone. Then he finally decided to dial the local pizza place.

He could go for some after all the hell he's been through.

..........

When the delivery guy arrived to Mark's house, you were nowhere to be found, and so he tried to act as normal as possible while paying for the pizza.

It was a rather awkward exchange considering he hasn't had any human contact in days (not to mention going through one of the most traumatic experiences of his life).

But when they asked if he was alright, he lied about going through a "tough breakup". And they wished him a good day before leaving.

After closing the door, he turned around--

Nearly dropping the box in fright when he saw you standing by the couch.

"What did you get?"

"God-!! D-Don't do that." He spoke through gritted teeth. "Why are you still here? What do you want from me?"

"I'd like to know what pizza tastes like." You tilted your head like a curious cat.

"......"

"......."

"....it's cheese." Sighing, Mark just went over the couch, setting the box down on the coffee table. In the blink of an eye, you were sitting beside him.

Since you were awfully tall, you knees were touching your chest, and you rested your arms on them as you smiled down at the human. You noticed he still kept the blanket wrapped around himself.

He looked quite cute, if you'll be honest.

It was awful quiet in the house as he took a slice of pizza and chewed on it, seemingly staring off into the distance, thinking.

You had taken up a slice, too, revealing your sharp humanlike teeth as they bit down on the gooey cheese. And your eyes lit up with delight at the flavor....before you rapidly consumed it.

"Woah, what the hell?!" Mark was startled, watching you swallow it whole with wide eyes. "Damn, I guess..you were hungry, huh?"

"I don't need food, but..it was quite delicacy."

"..you mean delicious?"

"...yes." You realized your error. "So...what else do you usually do?"

"Why do you wanna know?" He scowled, his hostility returning. "So you can mimic my routine when you takeover-?"

"Mark, I've already told you..that's not my intention."

"But why? Those other two tried to kill me! One mimicked my best friend..th-the other tried getting inside my fucking head...but you...you just attacked them. Why?"

"Because unlike most Alternates who lack empathy and compassion...I happen to have those." You gently explained to him. "Think of me as...a sheep in wolf's clothing, if you will. I don't follow the Savior's-"

"Wait..the Savior?" He blinked slowly. "You don't mean-"

"No, no..not yours." You reassured him. "We have a different Savior who says we should annihilate humanity, but I disagree. So I chose my own path. I wanna help your kind because...well...there's a lot of beauty to be found in it. Like you."

"Me?" Mark raised an eyebrow, doubting that he exemplified anything "beautiful" about humans. "I'm just a kid who pointed a gun at you."

Looking down at him, you shook your head. "There's beauty in your desire to survive, little lamb. You showed fortitude while most would have crumbled at the first sight of me. That alone was impressive."

"...yeah, well..my "fortitude" was great before I knew that the broadcasts fucking lied to us." He felt his eyes starting to sting again, and he hastily wiped them, not wanting to look pathetic and helpless in front of you anymore. "So is that their plan? To leave our lives in your hands and basically tell us to fuck off if we call about an encounter?"

"......."

"...right, you told me. I guess we'd be even more screwed if Alternates started mimicking cops." His shoulders slumped, suddenly losing his appetite as he stared at the few pizza slices that remained, only now realizing you've eaten most of them.

But he didn't care.

He just wanted to be done caring.

You could tell a lot of this new information was weighing heavily on his mind, so you wondered if a distraction could help ease his anxieties.

Then your eyes landed on the TV in front of you both, the remote on the table next to the pizza box. It still intact and untampered, and with your influence over it you could stop another Alternate from overtaking the signals. "You like TV? We should watch some."

"But-"

"Nothing bad will happen to you. No Alternate will set foot in here other than me." You promised, shifting a bit closer to him. "You have my word, Mark Heathcliff."

Finally, he gave in and decided to trust your words. But only because he had nobody else to turn to and you seemed to show sympathy towards his situation. So he reached for the remote and turned on the TV, unsure of what to expect as he flipped through the channels.

Part of him worried he'd see that same man that he met in his childhood all those years ago..

Yet all the stations were normal, and he eventually found one where a favorite movie of his was playing. You could see the way his eyes lit up, realizing he found something he liked given the way he curled up and relaxed.

You simply watched the movie with him in silence. Neither of you knew how much time had passed, although judging from the light outside the locked windows, it was night.

Then you became surprised upon feeling something soft against your arm; you looked down to see it was his head, the top of his messy brown hair visible to you.

"Mark?"

"......."

There was only more silence from him, but since you could sense his gentle breathing, you knew he had fallen asleep.

You mused at how quickly you managed to gain his trust.

Only a little while ago, this young Christian boy was condemning you to hell and back, thinking you were some vile "demon" coming to kill him.

But now? Your presence seemed to comfort him.

Smiling, you carefully put your arm around him, hugging him a bit closer to your side. He snuggled closer to you out of instinct, not having felt the comforting touch of somebody in a long, long time.

'How could Gabriel ever want to destroy these precious creatures?' You pondered.

You knew he needed this rest, and so you let him be, keeping your eyes on both the television and the shadows all the around the house.

You'll make sure no other Alternate harms this soul.

Never again.

#clanask #anonymous #mandela catalogue x reader #the mandela catalogue x reader #mark heathcliff #alternate reader #platonic #hurt/comfort #tw suicide mention

[visenyaism]

Top 5 asoiaf historical characters or top 5 povs to read from ?

my favorite chapter of all time still goes to the tyrion boat school chapter in adwd but in terms of favorite POVs to read?

6. joncon- giving myself a bonus one to talk about how reading his chapters made me feel like i was dissolving like a powerpoint transition. there’s just so much grief and love and bitterness and doom packed into there it is unreal.

5. sam- gender. he is just so special i’ve never read a fantasy protag quite like samwell tarly and his quest to realize his compassion, empathy, and courage are his greatest strengths despite being discouraged by hypermasculine violent feudal society. he is the real protagonist of asoiaf to me.

4. jonsnow- i liked his pov’s in all the books, but ADWD where he is just trying as hard as possible not to be the protagonist after going though like 4 different genres (can u BELIEVE he started off as a boarding school protagonist) even though he literally has super strengthis so beloved to me. His ongoing crisis where he has to realize that despite everything everyone tries to impose on him he has only ever been just himself is so so real (just as real as him being king beyond the wall. btw) though getting immediately killed for it has to be a downer. MY son was turncloak of the month at castle black👍

3. Jaime- he’s funny. he’s cringe. he stares a lot for someone who can’t fight. he’s delusional. he can’t fit a whole knight in his head. he hasn’t emotionally matured past the age of seventeen. everything he says is insane and also heartbreaking. i love jaime POVs so much y’all don’t get it.

2. Cersei- reading cersei i for the first time last year rewired my brain and i was loud about it. Unlike cersei i was not raised by a fascist nightmare but as a nonbinary girltwin i can say that getting raised alongside a direct example of what your life would’ve been like without misogyny can be very hard, especially when you hit puberty and the “your brother is a person and you are the girl one” starts to get even louder. I was fucking alarmed how personally compelling her weird gender thoughts were given EVERYTHING else the Lannister twins have going on that is NOT personally relevant to me. Don’t know how george rr martin old cishet man that he is knew about any of that.

She’s completely delusional, and at times her mental gymnastics are so so fucking funny, but the like roiling layer of unspeakable (literally unspeakable she refuses to speak or acknowledge it) pain and fear underneath is what got me really. Watching her scheme out of arrogance and mortal terror really just to gain respect and bodily autonomy (though in the Tywin way where freedom from abuse and the “right” to abuse others are the same thing) and then just losing everything incredibly fucking hard was really compelling. i hope you win.

1. Melisandre- wait i said another chapter was my favorite of all time in this post? no i didn’t not when melisandre i is in the room. i have talked about this one extensively and probably will do so again. Finding out that r’hllor is literally her enslaved and her entire black and white apocalyptic worldview is her attempt to feel safe within that truth because she is still just a scared little girl at heart who needs what she’s saying to be true because if it’s not none of her suffering was worth it was the revelation of all time. That and the revelation that she actually does have a human attachment to Davos to the point that she’s watching over his son to spare him the grief. We WILL get melisandre ii in this lifetime and it will break my heart all over again because she is going to outlive stannis and have to survive the worldview shattering.

#i am a PROUD cognitive dissonance unreliable narrator enjoyer. and AFFC’s strongest soldier #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #listen i love all the regulars. there’s just so many heavy hitters in affc and adwd #WAIT THEON. NOOOOOOO

[lolaandthens0me]

Hey Lola! I love your posts and content! I gotta ask this: What has your Poly Journey looked like for you, and is there anything that I should be mindful of within my own journey?

Salutations Anon! And thank you for the kind words.

Wow, what a fantastic question! It has been quite the journey filled with much love, some heartache, an abundance of patience and growth, and real hard work in self-awareness and compassion...along with more than a smattering of fun, fuckery, and so.much.travel.

My journey began with a quiet aching within my heart and unsettledness within my gut. I think I've always known that I was polyamorous and bisexual, but I've not always had the vocabulary to express that. I am a being with an extraordinary capacity to love, and although I had so much love within my marriage (and still share with my ex), my heart was calling for more. There came a time where I felt that if I didn't make a change, the real person I was inside was going to be gone forever. The part that makes me Lola. I believe that I was put on this Earth to love, to share my body, and to share my heart and empathy in order to help others learn how to heal and love themselves.

The first step was to learn how to communicate honestly, even if it meant hurting someone I loved. I read books and blogs about how to be an active communicator instead of a passive one. And then I practiced. I surrounded myself with wonderful friends who listened, pushed me to speak my truth, and helped me figure out just what is was that I felt I was missing, I was being called to pursue, and they supported me, every step of the way, in who I was becoming.

Then I had to learn how to ask for what I want. This is a lesson that I continue to relay to all of my friends and partners. I have learned how to compassionately, but confidently and with kindness, ask specifically for what I want. One way that I continue to do this is by being very upfront about who I am and what kind of life/relationships I want with any potential play partner/kinky friend/partner...the people that I want to be my whole, true, unedited self with.

I also had to do the hard thing. After months and months of therapy, couple's therapy, open, honest conversations, time spent alone and together, trials of compromise and an open relationship to a degree - I had to say that I wanted to separate. I was married for almost 15 years at this point. That was one of the hardest days of my life. But I felt caged, frail, like the color was being completely drained from me. They say that it takes a good 2 years after a separation/dissolution/divorce to get your life back to something normal again. I have not quite made it to that mark yet...but I believe that's true. My ex and I chose to rewrite a new chapter for our relationship, to write our own book, to remain friends and in each other's lives...and wow, has that been hard. But I am so fucking grateful and happy that we've done that work. And we are in a wholly different, beautiful place.

Now for the fun, but also tricky part...I began forming new relationships. I think I've always known that I would be someone who would want and thrive with a Primary partner. I was lucky, my Primary partner, RY, was a friend first, and grew very organically and beautifully into more than that. We both made a promise to each other very early on that we would keep checking in and evaluating the health of ourselves, our processes of getting over a breakup, and the state and wellbeing of our relationship as it blossomed and grew into what it is today. As long as we were both still growing individually and encouraging each other into happy and healthy people, then we would continue growing our relationship. We communicate openly and honestly about everything, we have been patient in allowing one another the space to mourn the loss of our marriages with empathy, and we have taken our time to rebuild ourselves, bringing our best selves to each other. It worked out that he also was looking to explore polyamory. We're both still new at this, but we talk about and work through every growing pain along the way.

Then along came my other partner. She and I had a connection right away. Our close friendship naturally grew into something more. She and my primary partner were also friends, and honestly, I think that really helps. It is just amazing to see the two of them talk and laugh and genuinely enjoy being around each other, and they both reach out to one another in their love for me. I was always clear about who RY was to me and what our relationship was, and so that helped lay the foundation for my second relationship. I check in a lot with her to make sure that she feels loved, seen, and heard, and that we have enough time in person together. It's fantastic that we can be things and do things with one another that just simply don't fit into our other relationships.

I have learned what my boundaries are (and the fact that I actually need boundaries) within myself to ensure that I remain intact and wholly my own, as well as a giving, loving, deeply connected partner. It was important for me to live by myself right now, not something I've ever done before. I made this choice for the past year because I know my codependent tendencies and I wanted to break out of that mold. I still struggle sometimes with not giving all of my energy to those I love. I must save some for myself and I have found ways to replenish that energy. Time and energy; I'm still learning how to balance these within a polyamorous life.

I continue to work on approaching every conversation with empathy and an open mind and heart. I continue to keep searching within myself and bring that self-awareness to my relationships. I continue to push myself to see a different way and live a different way. I continue to surround myself with open-minded people that see me, know me, support me, and love me in this new life I'm creating. I continue to take time to be by myself and breathe. I continue to search out new opportunities that challenge me and fulfill me. I continue to be a student of life. And I continue to lean into love.

I love you @resonantyes and @hbananer - thank you for this life.

#polyamory #poly life

[whumpshaped]

We’ve seen illness and possessiveness; is there any other instance where helle might be a little more … caring than usual?

masterlist bingo card

tw vampire whumper, vampire whumpee, starvation/intense hunger, power dynamics, animal death (beck feeding on rats), enclosed space

It was dark when he woke up. Unbearably so. He couldn't see a single thing, and he couldn't move. He hit something hard on all four sides as he tried to stretch and get out of the suffocating darkness, and he just couldn't. He was trapped.

Hungry. He was hungry. He was so fucking hungry.

The all-consuming urge to devour soon overrode the fear, and he started desperately hitting the wood above him. Was it a coffin? Was he underground? He couldn't tell and he didn't care, he just needed food. He needed blood. He wanted it more than anything.

His hand broke through the lid and hit nothing but air, letting him know he was still on the surface. Was he about to ruin a nice funeral? His own funeral?

Why had nobody staked him?

None of that mattered. He needed blood. He needed blood right now.

He continued chipping away at the wooden lid until it finally gave way, then crawled out of his temporary prison in a wild frenzy. He could already smell it — the scent of fresh blood was thick in the air. He pounced on the source of it without a second thought, driven by nothing but animalistic instinct. He sank his fangs into something small and furry, not caring what creature he was about to take the life of.

It was glorious. It was the best thing he'd ever tasted. It was life; sweet, warm, filling him up until– until the creature dried up completely, leaving him with an admittedly less maddening, but still very present hunger. He whined in disappointment, and someone threw another little thing on the floor in front of him. It was maybe a rat, or... or something.

Something disgusting, the sane part of him argued, but the beast within him had already grabbed it, bringing it to his lips and biting down again.

He only found the presence of mind to look up and see where his food was coming from after he'd finished drinking, his eyes settling on a strangely familiar figure. Master, he recalled. Helle. The vampire who had turned him. They were watching him with an expression that was almost disdainful, and definitely condescending.

"We can go out and get you something more satiating," they stated bluntly, without any sort of kindness or compassion. "After we have had a chat."

He slowly lowered the rat, his hands still twitching to grab something and his jaw aching to close around another living being. He was still hungry. So hungry.

"A chat..?" he repeated.

"Yes. About undeath, vampirism... your memories. Do you even remember your name?"

"Of course, it's..." He trailed off, frowning a little. What was his name again? He should've remembered crucial information like that, he couldn't have just... forgotten his own name. "It's... I, I– I remember, I know I do–"

"Do you remember my name?"

"Helle," he said instantly, reverent and adoring. He couldn't quite pinpoint what it was that made the other vampire so alluring, or why he felt being so drawn to them, but it was definitely a strong pull. "Of course I remember."

"Of course you do," they said sarcastically, and he winced a little.

"S-sorry."

Helle's expression softened, and they sighed. "Your name is Beckett Hayes. Beck. When you died, you left behind a mother by the name of Bella and a twin brother named Joel. Does any of that ring a bell?"

Beck could already feel a headache coming. Memories flooded his abused mind, happy, sad, scary, disturbing. "Y-yeah. That's... yeah. How could I forget my family..?" He thought he saw a glimmer of empathy in Helle's eyes before they shrugged, nonchalant as ever.

"Death does that to the brain, I suppose." They gestured towards the coffin he'd crawled out of, and he noticed a little plush toy sitting next to it. "Any memories?"

"Boba!" Beck snatched up his friend with inhumane speed, cradling it close to his chest. Things became easier to recall the more he did it, and the more Helle pushed. "Yes, I definitely remember him... Y-you... you brought him along? For me..?"

"To jog your memory," they clarified way too hastily.

"Thank you. So much." They waved him off, seemingly annoyed by the amount of gratitude the gesture had invoked in him. "May I ask... what's with the, uh... why the coffin?" That seemed to annoy them even more.

"Well, you are supposed to bury the dead," they snapped, and Beck held Boba just a little tighter.

"B-but I wasn't–"

"I was busy! Okay? I was busy, I did not have the time to dig you a shallow grave."

"Sorry," he whispered, afraid of setting off another unexpected bomb. He quickly brushed off any thoughts about Helle possibly foregoing that step because it would've been needlessly cruel. It couldn't have possibly been out of sympathy or... care.

"No matter," Helle muttered. "Come along, now. We shall find you something a bit more filling to nibble on, and we can discuss your life some more in the meantime."

"Yes, Master," he said dutifully, then quickly placed Boba on top off the ruined coffin and joined Helle. He tried not to think about how many times he must've said these exact words for them to feel so natural. It wasn't important. All he needed to focus on was obeying his sire and working towards earning a bit more food.

~

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight @there-will-always-be-blood @pigeonwhumps @echo-goes-mmm @whumpycries @morning-star-whump @d-cs @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @tauntedoctopuses @blueyellow8green @typewrittenfangs

#at my beck and call #whump #whump writing #helle #beckett #vampire whumper #vampire whumpee #starvation/intense hunger #power dynamics #animal death #enclosed space

[snorange]

far too long of a response to @highly-invested 's excellent post and some frankly sickening takes from @breadguyyy . Seeing Moash defenders is always strange as it is not enough for Moash to be a someone who survived horrible circumstances and regained a place in society, but ultimately failed at forgiving the world that created his suffering. Instead they invent lies about him with the only apparent reason being that being a contrarian is more interesting than actually discussing the books. Moash is constantly making choices he knows are wrong because he wants the emotional reward without the emotional consequence of guilt. Moash wants to kill Elthokar because of the perceived justice in doing so despite the fact that Roshone is more directly responsible. Seeing Moash defenders is always strange. Moash is constantly making choices he knows are wrong because he wants the emotional reward without the emotional consequence of guilt. Moash wants to kill Elthokar because of the perceived justice in doing so despite the fact that Roshone is more directly responsible.

If Moash truly believed Elthokar deserved to die for his part in Moash's grandparents death he would have slit his throat one of the many times he was guarding Elthokar, but he doesn't. He is convinced of the "righteousness" of the cause when he joins the diagram. Only once there is a large organization on which for Moash to place the guilt upon does he try to kill Elthokar.

The only noble thing that Moash has done is protect the enslaved singers in the caravan to Kholinar. It is no coincidence that this happens during the time between him being separated from the diagram and before gaining Odium's attention. This is the only time Moash's pain is his own. Thus the most important part of every Moash discussion comparing him to Dalinar. Both have done terrible things, both have taken help from gods to go on living having done these things. However Dalinar is on the path of redemption and Moash isn't. This post and the ones screenshot are in response to a wob with the most important line being, "if Dalinar got redeemed, Moash has gotta go further than Dalinar. At the same time, he is certainly not looking for that." This is the most interesting discussion about Moash and Dalinar, as they are separated because of intent. Dalinar killed Evi without intending to and Moash intended to kill Kalidan, but failed doing so. Both Moash and Dalinar are knowingly and intentionally violating their moral code due to emotion but have the consequences increased by circumstance. Moash is made aware of this increased stake and with his actions state that no price to high to pay. Dalinar is not made aware and both the reader and Dalinar are left with hope a small fleeting hope that if Dalinar knew Evi was capture he would have stopped the slaughter.

Another really interesting point of comparison is the boon that they each received. Dalinar sets out for the Nightwatcher planning on asking for the boon of peace, but ultimately asks for forgiveness once there. Peace has very deep positive connotations in our culture being treated as synonymous with other positive traits such as empathy, compassion, kindness. However peace is the boon given to Moash as well as what is offered to Dalinar by Odium. This peace is what make Moash so hard to redeem. Peace is antithetical to change and growth the most important requirements for redemption.

What really gets me about @breadguyyy's comments is that he decries this series as "liberal Mormon moralizing". The most liberal thing in series is Dalinar learning to fucking read. And I know liberal does meaning any on the Internet its just a buzzword to say you hate the status quo. But even then this book series is so firmly anti-status quo. We got breaking gender norms, dismantling the feudal system, appropriations for slavery in the past, learning how to truly understand and connect with people of other races. All of which is set off by the end of the world.

#stormlight archive #cosmere #stormlight spoilers #oathbringer #moash #dalinar #brandon sanderson #the way of kings #dalinar motherfucking kholin

[treason-and-plot]

[previous]

“No, and he wants you to ring him back,” says Saffron, clambering to her feet and tossing the phone into the tumble of bedclothes. “You know what? You are such a fucking ingrate, Connor. I spent all night comforting and supporting you over your stupid bird and making sure you didn't die, and all I get in return is verbal abuse. You’re a pretty shitty human, do you know that?”

“I’m a shitty human?” says Connor. “Are you serious? You didn’t offer me any comfort or support last night. Because you don’t have a single shred of compassion or empathy in your whole body. You only hung around because there was pizza and alcohol, and the only reason you stayed here overnight was because your mother told you too. And the only reason you answered my phone was because you saw it as a means of getting people to spread even more gossip and rumours about us. Because it throws people off the scent of the married man who you're really having sex with. Right?"

“Fuck you, Connor,” hisses Saffron.

She tears out of the room and down the four flights of stairs, then pauses at the bottom, listening. All she can hear is the pounding of her heart in her ears; nobody is running after her, nobody is calling out to her to stay. She pulls open the heavy front door and slams it behind her and stomps down the paved path to her car. She doesn’t look up to see if Connor is looking down from his bedroom window but she convinces herself that he is there, sorrow written all over his face, his mouth forming whispered words of regret and remorse as he watches her back out of the driveway and speed with squealing tyres down the road.

#connor #Saffron #back to bridgeport #5 years later #sims 3 #ts3 #sims 3 story

[iaminsideyourwalls]

Sorry for the ask so soon after my first one, but really, I would love to hear about any head canons you'd like to share! :O Do you have a favorite merc?

Don’t apologize for asks, I love asks! I even put it in my bio.

You couldn’t ask a parent to pick a favorite child could you??? ;_; (although I do think about sniper every day.) I’ll give you a headcanon for all of them then.

Scout

he retained some French from when he was little. He’s not good at it in general but is a lot better at understanding it than speaking it. He can eavesdrop on Spy but can’t conjugate être. I also like versions of Scout that speak Spanish when people hc his mom as Latina.

Sniper

one of my all time favorite headcanons is Māori Sniper. Also, if you’ve seen this blog you’ll know i believe he’s an autistic king.

Engineer

I know a lot of people tend to portray him as a tender, kind, empathetic guy but I genuinely don’t think he’s ever felt empathy or genuine compassion in his life. Sure he knows how to act sweet and polite and soft and nonthreatening all the time but no matter how long you’ve known him, if you get in his way he’s already designing a new machine in his head to blow you away into the last century.

Demoman

Objectum Demoman is one of my all-time favorites. For real. I will genuinely ship him with eyelander, idgaf.

Soldier

I really love trans soldier headcanons. His transmasc swag is off the charts. It’s hard to come up with hcs for Soldier because he’s so fucking wild you could put him in any situation and it could be true. Lived in a diving bell for two years? Sure. Favorite food is un-husked kernels of wheat? Absolutely. Replaced his dick with his big toe so he could use it to walk? I could go on.

Heavy

during and after he obtained his phd in Russian literature he published a number of fiction books under a pen name. They’re all tasteful romances with subplots of political intrigue. They gained high critical praise and are still moderately popular in bookstores in Russia and some neighboring countries. all the royalties from sales go to his family. He’s also an autistic king.

Pyro

I don’t have many headcanons for pyro because I like keeping the whole mystery. I don’t wonder what’s under the mask or come up with possible names because I think the whole of the character is that mystery. But I will say that as great as unicorns and rainbows and cupcakes are, there’s really nothing Pyro loves more than hanging out with Engie in his workshop and pretending to help.

Medic

as far as my own headcanons, I have a lot. Here’s some. He does not have a driver’s license—he taught himself to drive by stealing a car. He’s insecure about his voice but he talks too much to really care. He’s always wanted a motorcycle. He puts drugs in his morning coffee. He doesn’t like classical music, he listens to the top 40s on the radio and sings along. The peppier the better.

One of my favorite Medic headcanons I ever heard was that he only has medical training as a veterinarian and I think that’s hilarious because it could absolutely be real.

Spy

He’s smart but he’s not as highly educated as he wants people to think. He never went to a university and maybe never even finished school. Just like Scout, he’s so damn good at what he does that he can afford to be more concerned with appearance and showing off than anything else. They’re both committed to making people see what they want them to see and nothing deeper.