#to be clear I am incredibly unbothered

[deoidesign]

Sorry what was that

#HAHAHAHAHHA #this and the other comment were from the same person #to be clear I am incredibly unbothered #but I got the idea and as I've said before... if something is funny. I have to do it. #anyways. legitimately do not care at all and not offended at all this person is annoying and I've already blocked them #but hey if I've gotta get the comments then I get to make jokes out of it. its my right. #adam and steve #ttawebcomic #time and time again #my art #drawing #digital art #ocs #shitpost

[malusokay]

How to be like Jang Wonyoung

As many of you requested, part 2 of my it girls series is all about Jang Wonyeong, who's not only absolutely STUNNING, but also incredibly talented, hardworking, and of course successful. Let's get right into it!! <33

Wonyoungs Energy:

Wonyoung is incredibly charismatic, which makes her stand out without even trying!!

She has a bubbly and likeable Personality, Wonyoung appears happy and welcoming, she easily lights up a room with just her presence.

Aside from being cute and cheerful, Wonyoung is also known for being extremely hardworking!!

Confident and Unbothered. Despite receiving quite a bit of unnecessary hate, Wonyoung stays indifferent and true to herself!!

Elegant and feminine. No one does the ‘Elegant feminine self-love girly’ aesthetic like her, she is THE girly girl!! <3

Mindset:

Learn to deal with jealousy, Wonyoung gets plenty of hate, but let's be real for a second… we all know that is because of jealousy. Pretty, successful, smart, and popular? Of course, people will be jealous!!

“While practising self-love, you see good and pretty things about yourself. If I focus only on those things, I don't need to pay much attention to the criticism.”

Don't compare yourself to others “You are you, I am me”.

Keep to yourself. Stop telling people your ideas, your dreams and how you plan to archive them, your goals etc. Let your actions speak for themself!! <3

No more negative self-talk!!

Be your number 1 priority!! Take care of yourself, do what's good for you, eat well, care for your body, skincare, haircare, and your education!! PRIORITIES

Skincare

Skincare. Wonyoung has Flawless skin, finding a skincare routine that works for you can help you archive similar results!!

Wonyoungs skincare routine:

According to Google, Wonyoung only uses Innisfree products and starts by double cleansing her face, for that, she uses the Green Tea Cleansing Oil ($24), and the Green Tea Amino Acid Face Cleanser ($12)

To get the dewy class skin effect, hydration is key!! In the morning, Wonyoung likes using the Green Tea Hyaluronic Acid Serum ($30) and the Dewy Glow Tone-up Cream ($26)

Of course, you can't forget SPF. Wonyoung uses the Mild Cica Sunscreen Tone-Up SPF 50+ PA ++++, which is also great for acne-prone and sensitive skin types!! :)

For her night routine, she likes the Retinol Cica Moisture Recovery Serum ($37) and the Dewy Glow Jelly Cream ($26).

Elevate your daily life:

Healthy diet. Eating nutritious and healthy food is the first and most important step to clear skin and an overall good feeling!! Make sure to eat enough protein (ex. yoghurt, chicken, tofu or eggs), lots of fruits and veggies, and healthy fats (ex. Avocados, fish, nuts, olive oil)!!

Exercise daily. Besides dancing, Wonyoung loves pilates!! You can find lots of great Pilates videos on YouTube!!

Work on your posture!! Having good posture will not only make you feel better but also lets you appear more confident, elegant and put together. Try daily stretching and exercises to improve it <3

Try establishing a proper morning and night routine, this can help you stay structured and relaxed even on more messy and busy days.

Content that makes you feel better!! Start watching channels like thewizardliz, vogue beauty secrets, and read motivating blogs. (like mine lol <3)

Makeup:

Wonyoung is known for her iconic glittery and feminine make-up!!

Light pink blush, plump lips, glowy skin and a glittery but not too heavy eye look.

Foundation on the centre of your face and blend outwards for a naturally contoured look.

Always apply your matt products before your shimmers, that way, your makeup looks cleaner!! Also, apply your glitters from finest to chunkiest. :)

Don't apply your shimmers/glitters past the middle of your eyelid to avoid looking puffy.

If you have warm-toned skin, go for peachy glitters, for cool-toned skin, choose a champagne-coloured one.

If your struggle with dark under eyes, blend your concealer with your fingers!! This will give it a lot more coverage.

You can find lots of tutorials on Wonyoung-inspired make-up on YouTube, this one is my favourite.

I hope this little guide was helpful, I wasn't too familiar with Wonyoung, but I did some research since she was the number 1 most requested person for this!! :)

As always, please feel free to share your own suggestions in the comments and let me know who you want me to write about next! <3

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

#malusokay #girl blogger #aesthetic #coquette #dream girl #it girl #pink blog #that girl #pinterest #pink pilates princess #wonyoung #jang wonyoung #ive wonyoung #miu miu #glow up #girl blogging #girly things #beautytips

[weskie]

Earned (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

no warnings, wesker lives au, extremely loose followup to this, wesker receiving affection, i think he deserves it, if that's wrong i don't wanna be right | Fic Directory

Sometimes you can see through the cracks of his cold, unbothered demeanor.

There’s something… fragile under all of it.  Buried beneath decades of shielding himself from the worst this world had to offer, from dealings with the dregs of humanity and a life manufactured and directed without his knowledge.

You remember how volatile Wesker had been after discovering the truth from Spencer.  The cracks you peer through now had been wedged clear open back then.  Salt dumped into the not-so-metaphorical wound.  You found him in a fit of rage when he finally came home, destroying his entire office just to cope in the only way he could think of.  Splinters of debris gave way under your footsteps and he glared daggers at you, daring you to come closer, daring you to cross the fray into the eye of the storm.

His reluctance to let you touch him weaned with every passing second that you smoothed your thumbs over his cheeks.  It was startling to see his typically calm exterior eroded so completely. You’d never seen him so… shattered.  It wasn’t until later that you’d understand that the foundation of his entire life had been swept out from under his feet. But, even then, you had an inkling that something had truly shaken him to his core.

“Who am I?”  

You’ll never forget the flare of amber glowing brighter in his eyes as each word fell from his lips over and over, nor the bruising grip he had on your arms, until he hid his face in the crook of your neck– secretly so desperate to hide from the haunting revelations of his life.

And you don’t forget it now as you run your fingers through his hair, cradling his head on your lap while he rests.  His recovery had been long and arduous, and it had humbled him more than anything possibly could have.  His dependence upon you had been a nearly insurmountable sore spot, but you wager it taught him a truth so incredibly foreign to his perception of the world.

Vulnerability can be okay.

At least it can be with you.  You’re not out here to stab him in the back or raw deal him for a larger cut in some grand scheme.  You’re not a multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical company pulling his strings nor the corpse that once orchestrated the entire marionette show.

You’re someone who loves him– adores him. 

It’s taken him a very long time to truly believe that, much less accept it.  You will forever be his greatest weakness and strength, all rolled into one.  You are leverage for anyone who wants to truly hurt him, but you are also the ferocity with which he will unmake them for even considering it.  

Worse yet? 

You are the only reason he’s glad to have not perished in that volcano.  Wesker remembers only flashes of his dreams while cocooned in Uroboros, but he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he dreamt of you.  That it was your voice that pulled him through, your presence that he reached out to in his near comatose state. It was you who he sought after waking, despite how his body screamed to cease his movements.

So maybe…

Maybe it isn’t so wrong to let those cracks open up when he’s with you.  Maybe you should see the parts of him locked away from the world.  You should know the little boy thrown into the best boarding schools money could buy, the one who wondered if he had parents like the others did, who sought academic excellence so that he’d have even a fraction of the love he’s seen bestowed upon others by right of birth to those who could love them– to the man he is now, stripped of his pride and still always left to wonder what his true name had been.

Long ago, he asked you a question under much different circumstances.  Have you earned me, he’d said.  As he peeks through his farce of sleeping to take in the sight of you looking at him with endless love, only one thought lingers in his mind.

You have.

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x you #resident evil #dbd #dead by daylight #wesker x reader #wesker x you #albert wesker fanfiction #resident evil wesker

[onpurposeilovehimonpurpose]

Touching Tuesday - pt2 - Strong Henry

After King James states that he's read their emails, as intrusive and terrible as that must feel, Henry doesn't recoil at the knowledge that his grandfather read the things he said to Alex. Instead, he continues to be proud and strong and the whole time, Phillip is watching them. Perhaps he realizes that by reading them, there is no way that the king can deny his feelings for Alex, and hopes that he won't ask that. And the smirk they share as they check in with one another says so much more than words could. Also, Henry moves his thumb just barely, soothingly over Alex's finger, it's just a tiny movement, but the gesture makes me swoon.

The looks on their faces after the king acknowledges their love is genuine, even if they don't need the man's validation; they're trying so hard to hold back their happiness because they know they're just beginning the battle with him. Henry is so strong to do this in front of a man who hurt him and demanded his desires stay hidden. Their hands grip one another tightly, supporting each other the way they both need at that moment.

Watching Henry's movements and Alex's with their free hands. It shows their initial reactions to the King telling Henry that his responsibility is not to his heart, but to his country. Alex's reaction is so much smaller in comparison to Henry's, but it's those fingers of his, moving just a bit, as they tend to do whenever he has feelings he's unsure of. Notice Alex swallowing around the lump that probably formed in his throat when he took in what the king was clearly wanting from Henry. An agreement to deny the accusations. Henry's posture slumps a little, and he walks his fingers across his knee and then curls that hand into a fist, holding off the emotions he feels at the unfair expectations the king is pushing on his shoulders. But their joined hands never waver, they don't move at all.

Henry reacting to the king's ridiculous idea that they need to maintain the royal image, considering doing otherwise is out of the question, that he's allowing himself to react with a defiant expression is something he never would've allowed before, he would've controlled it. But then, before he can say anything, Alex questions the king. It's so incredible to me that Alex does this, ignoring the fact that the man is king, he's just another man whose bullshit beliefs should be questioned. It's clear neither one of them at this point cares that he's a king. He's just a man who wants them to repress their feelings, and their relationship and is willing to ignore the love he sees in front of him.

Now I want to talk about the touching and what it means for Henry to no longer hold Alex's hand. This man has taken all the comfort and strength that became a little feedback loop between them, and he's like... "I'm going to stand up for myself on my own right now because Alex doesn't deserve to be considered a problem and neither do I." He says, "You think you can make me get in line by fear or guilt and expectations? You think that I'm only questioning this crap because of the man sitting beside me who I love, who you know I love, is here holding my hand through this? You're very wrong about that." And he goes back to his habit of trying to twirl his ring (even if he's not wearing it) and he situates himself so that he's not so stiff, so that he almost appears like he's relaxing and that this conversation is casual, and he's unbothered.

RED, WHITE & ROYAL BLUE (2023) dir. Matthew Lopez

Henry asks his question, and he is saying, "You don't want Alex to have a voice, but I will help him have one because I will ask the same damn thing and wait for you to give me the bullshit answer I know is coming because I've decided that I don't care what you say. I'm gonna sit back, and I'm gonna ask this question and watch you squirm as you realize that I am strong and I am my own person, and I deserve more than what you want me to have."

One of the most important / (imo needed) changes from the book to the movie was this scene right here, and I am glad that Matthew Lopez made sure to put this change in. While I do like that Catherine in the book came out of her grief to start to be there for her children, her children were younger in the book. Henry is older in the movie; he is nearing thirty years old, and though he is obviously hurt that his mother isn't around, he is also fully an adult, and I think that after all this time, HE needed to be the one to stand up for himself, for his love and his relationship. He needed to deal with this, and he had Alex's support and Bea's, but this was his moment. He gets to show who he has always been inside and gets the chance to be the man he has become because of knowing Alex and accepting his love and encouragement.

The look on his face as he asks that question tells how differently he values himself and his happiness than what we saw from him previously.

#RWRB #RWRB Movie #Red White and Royal Blue #FirstPrince #Alex X Henry #Moody Monday #Touching Tuesday #Alex Claremont-Diaz #Alexander Claremont-Diaz #Henry Fox #HRH Prince Henry #HRH Prince Henry George Edward James Hanover-Stuart Fox #Henry Fox Mountchristen Windsor #My RWRB GIFS #Nicholas Galitzine #Taylor Zakhar Perez #Strong Henry

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

beef with wasps

f!singer x andrei svechnikov

warnings: mentions of anaphylactic shock/severe allergic reactions, swearing, light joking of near death (to be clear: nobody dies in this), some fluff

liked by gracieabrams, rolemodel and 836,217 others

ynofficial: on behalf of y/n - she is conscious, well and in great hands. she told me to spare the details on what happened, but does want you guys to know that after suffering a wasp sting earlier this afternoon, she was rushed to the ER after going into anaphylactic shock. she gave us all quite a scare and will be in overnight for observations, but doctors are positive she'll make a full recovery

S x

view all comments

gracieabrams: thinking of you and wishing you the best recovery! <3

fan1: who tf is s?

fan2: that must have been terrifying, so glad she's ok now

fan3: sending love

reneerapp: ❤️❤️

comments for this post have been restricted

liked by olivia_dejonge, haleyluhoo and 921,375 others

ynofficial: they gave me so much fucking adrenalin i have a rocket up my arse rn and he's just gone to the vending machine bc im so hungry so im taking this opportunity to tell you guys that i almost died today but im ok and the reason theres no selfie is bc i look like a pickled dick rn and as charles boyle once said life is a party and im the pinata xxxxx and he did get me flowers without me even asking so im vv in love rn

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fan4: sorry you almost died?????

fan5: babe what did you think anaphylactic shock was

fan6: does the adrenalin also increase the meme usage

fan7: so she almost dies AND reveals she might be in a relationship??? my heart is breaking twice tonight

fan8: ok but the flowers???? she's got a real one there

fan9: i mean i'd like to think if you almost died your partner would get you flowers...

fan10: lmao you'd think so wouldn't you

liked by andrei_svechnikov37, madisonbaileybabe and 926,174 others

ynofficial: back home! i'm now on house arrest because "there aren't any wasps inside" (we have beef with their butts now). needless to say, it was scary for everyone, but as you can see, miley (the cat) is the only one unbothered. i'm currently typing this from under a human giant and i'm loving every second.

i'd also like to take the opportunity to apologise for my loopy instagram posting and let everyone who purchased tickets for the phoenix show know that they will be refunded. again, i'm incredibly sorry for any inconvenience!

view all comments

fan11: and you expect me to believe that human giant in the photo is NOT svech???

fan12: he also likes cats

fan13: and in her other post, it was signed off with 's'

fan14: girl don't apologise

fan15: is he ok?

ynofficial: bit teary but we're recovering!

fan16: NO SVECH DON'T CRY EVERYTHING IS OKAY

andrei_svechnikov37: ynofficial you almost died i'm not letting you go that easily

fan17: SVECH HELLO

liked by ynofficial, devonleecarlson and 57,931 others

andrei_svechnikov37: the family emergency has made a full recovery! (thank fuck) i also wanted to come on here and say that i'm unbelievably proud of this girl, and hilariously in love with her

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fan18: crying happy tears this is adorable

fan19: SVECH STOP RUINING MY STANDARDS

fan20: i love how she's wearing red in the last two pictures

ynofficial: shh he hasn't caught on yet

fan21: i've only had y/n and andrei for a day (officially), but if anything happened to them, i would kill everyone in this room and then myself

fan22: am i the only one who wants to know how long they've been dating?

fan23: no!! i do too

ynofficial: you're making me blush

liked by andrei_svechnikov37

fan24: y/n is so precious and idk who andrei is but i love him just for this caption

fan25: svech is definitely a cuddler

liked by ynofficial

liked by andrei_svechnikov37, sydney_sweeney and 1,028,285 others

ynofficial: i can't find the right words to express how happy and grateful i am to have you in my life, so i'm just going to settle with i love you so fucking much that sometimes i can't breathe because of it, okay?

view all comments

fan26: is andrei the inspiration behind out of my misery?

ynofficial: yes

fan27: you guys make me sick in a good way

fan28: wow you've got taste y/n

andrei_svechnikov37: saying you can't breathe is a bit too soon

ynofficial: LMAO I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE

andrei_svechnikov37: i love the love though

fan29: y/n i can't-

fan30: how long have you guys been together?

ynofficial: one and a half years!

fan31: y/n not being overly mushy on instagram and casually announcing she's dating an nhl player is my favourite part of this year so far

#andrei svechnikov x reader #nhl social media au #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

[snax-writes]

omds i j realised your requests were open!!!! i’m so excited i love everything you write for harvey specter sm :)

i have a request for a secret relationship with him and the reader - maybe they hate each other at work but harvey j goes soft whenever she walks into the room or says smth (he thinks he hides it well but it’s obvious to everyone that he doesn’t hate her) maybe they get caught slow dancing in harvey’s office ( maybe even doing smth spicy 🤭 (ngl i wld die if they got caught making out cause harvey is such a dom im screaming) wld love for it to be spicy, but it’s up to you if you j wanna keep it fluffy!

this is my first time requesting anything, so i hope it’s ok! <3

[hey, i'm incredibly sorry it took so long! thank you so much for your request! it's not exactly like you described but i hope you like it anyway!]

Unsolicited - h. specter

summary: when Harvey asks Mike to assist you on your case, without you asking for it, you can’t help but take it as an offense.

warnings: none

word count: 302

You walked into Harvey’s office enraged. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

The man looked up from his laptop, an unbothered expression on his face. “I need a bit of context.”

“The AM General case. They are my client. Why would you ask Mike to research on my case without talking to me first?” You leant on his desk, towering over him.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Harvey stood up and rounded the desk as you straightened up, your eyes following him.

“Do you think I am incompetent?” You asked earnestly.

The man smiled. “I would never.”

You furrowed your brows. “Then why would you do something that undermines my authority as well as my competence?”

The man stepped closer. “Y/n.”

“What?” You stubbornly maintained eye contact.

“Smith is a flaming misogynist. He will try to make your life hell with belittling you and being condescending,” Harvey argued. “I-“

“And giving me unsolicited help is supposed to be… what? You always do this.” You exclaimed, interrupting him.

 He exhaled. “I’ll admit I should have talked to you first. I’m sorry. I just wanted to protect you.” His gaze flicked to your lips for just a millisecond but you caught it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be this protective of a colleague…” You murmured, suddenly entranced by his eyes.

“Oh, I definitely shouldn’t but it seems I got a thing for ignoring rules.” He whispered before he finally caught your lips in an ardent kiss.

Only the sound of someone clearing their throat made you separate, you both left breathless.

“You two will to talk to HR.” Jessica stated, a smug grin on her lips. “And as quickly as possible – in fact, first thing tomorrow morning.”

You nodded, biting your lips to keep from grinning, while a cheesy grin formed on Harvey’s lips as his eyes caught yours.

© snax-writes, 2023 feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think, send a request!

if i missed a content warning, please tell me and i'll add it!

#harvey specter x reader #harvey specter #suits tv #snax writes

[whumpshaped]

whumptober 12

prompt list masterlist

tw abandonment, past trauma, rocky recovery, self-doubt, self-worth issues

"I'm up, I'm up!" Whumpee tried to sound convincing as they attempted to put on a shirt in their half-asleep state, very eager to prove that they were still part of the team. "Where are we off to? What happened?"

Their teammates were rushing in and out of the room as they were getting ready, sparing them no more than a few nervous glances; Whumpee was starting to think no one was even going to answer them. It was Caretaker who eventually walked over to their bed and placed a hand on their shoulder, looking apologetic.

"Whumpee, uh... I appreciate the enthusiasm. We all do..." Whumpee's chest was beginning to feel a little tight at the tone, but they straightened their back and feigned nonchalance. If only straightening their back hurt a little less, maybe they would've looked more unbothered. "But I don't think you should come with us on this quest. You're basically still recovering."

"I'm not! I'm as fine as I'm ever gonna be! Is this about me needing a cane now? I won't slow you down!" They sounded desperate, even to their own ears. They hated it. But they hated the notion of being left behind even more.

"No, listen... Listen to me. We've worked alongside each other for decades, you know you can trust me. So please, trust me when I say this isn't the quest for you."

Whumpee opened their mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Their facade was crumbling at a rapid speed. "It is about the state my body's in, isn't it? Don't lie, please. Not you. We– we all know I'm not in recovery. We all know this isn't gonna get any better. Is this it for me? Am I not–" Their voice broke, and they couldn't ignore the tears shining in their friend's eyes either. "Am I not of any use anymore? Will I never go on a quest with you again?"

Caretaker carefully sat down on the bed next to them, then took a slow, deep breath. "You're right," they said eventually, and it looked as though the words hurt them just as much as they hurt Whumpee. "We've been dancing around this entire topic because... because you're such an integral part of the team. We couldn't imagine the team without you. We told ourselves you would get better, and everything would go back to normal." Caretaker cleared their throat, probably looking for the right words to let them down.

"It doesn't have to go back to normal," Whumpee tried. "I'm telling you, I can handle myself. I can– I can do just as much as any of the newbies–"

"Whumpee..."

They sighed, the last of their hope leaving them on the exhale. Right. They were being ridiculous. "I get it," they said quietly. "Thanks for being honest with me. It's... certainly better than leading me on." They wiped away a tear, trying to keep it together for just a few more minutes. "I'll get out of here as soon as I can find a place for myself."

Caretaker's eyes widened. "Get out? Whumpee–"

"I don't want to be a fucking burden. You should already be on your way with the rest of the team, and yet here you are consoling me."

"No, no, Whumpee..." Caretaker took their hand in their own, looking into their eyes with sincerity they hadn't experienced in months. "The team and I have decided that it's best for you to stay out of quests, yes. I'm sorry that none of us was brave enough to tell you that directly. But Whumpee, look around– we're full of new members. New members who would be honoured to learn from you. We thought... we thought it'd be incredible if you could teach the newer generation everything you've learned."

Whumpee blinked, confused and speechless. "Me? Teaching..?"

Caretaker nodded. "Only if you want to, of course. But make no mistake — nobody wants you to leave. You're family, Whumpee. You're so amazing at what you do. And, well..." They chuckled, shrugging a little. "I'm not young anymore either. This is likely my last quest. After this, we could... we could start properly training the newer guys.

Together."

~

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @whump-em @cyborg0109 @morning-star-whump @justanotherlokifan @2in1whump @lthrboy @justletmereadmywhump @florissimps

#zi's whumptober scribbles #whump #whump drabble #abandonment #past trauma #rocky recovery #self-doubt #self-worth issues #recovery fic

[bengiyo]

Be My Favorite Ep 5 Stray Thoughts

Last week, Kawi went on the class trip that he missed in the past and encountered incredibly frustrating hazing rituals. His affection for Pear was used against him, and he ended up mildly embarrassed when Pear turned him down as gently as she could. Pisaeng, after being chided by Kawi, also directly turned Pear down. Max was glorious and unbothered. Not and the seniors suck. Pear is absolutely someone worth admiring, and I get why people like her. I’m currently impressed by how well this show is enabling everyone to grow by having one person start down a path of becoming more emotionally honest and forthright.

Curious that the show went out of the way to make sure we know that Not gets no bitches.

I like that Pisaeng is tippy-toeing to confessing to Kawi. He told him he made things clear with Pear because he cares how Kawi sees him and he needed to know if he was still going to pursue Pear on his own. He doesn’t want Kawi to know that he and others heard him being rejected.

Oh, it’s cool that Kawi is having a hard time taking advantage of the lottery.

Kawi building an interactive friendship with Pear is also a huge relief.

Big fan of the way the time travel rules have been established, because we have a reason to stick around here.

Kawi, please don’t knock yourself for being a subtitler. They are the most important people for the international audience.

I feel like Pisaeng is properly dealing with his own queerness for the first time, and I really hope he goes back to the gay club later.

Not is really making himself appealing to the girls by being condescending and an asshole.

Big fan of Max. Don’t be moody about your problems if you don’t want to tell me the tea. Also, it’s your issue not your potential suitor.

He went back to the club! This is definitely his first time being in a queer space.

Nooo! Don’t run away from Max!

I feel sad for Kawi that Not and co. took his joy for songwriting.

Oh, yes, Max. READ HIS ASS.

I need to learn the name of Pear’s friend because she just delivered a WORD. Being kind and offering encouragement costs so little! Stop being so mean!

I am in love with Max. He was a bit harsh with Pisaeng, but baby gays need to get over themselves a little bit sometimes.

Look at that. Just a little bit of encouragement and Kawi’s already doing better.

This show just said we have a duty to be kind to each other and ourselves, because the world is just a place. Oh my goodness.

This the third time we’ve seen someone get rejected kindly on this show. In each case, it has seemingly made things better between the pair. I feel like we will be writing about this more later.

This show just said “changes are more important than miracles.” What the absolute fuck? I am kinda losing my mind over a Jittirain show once again.

Gawin is so fucking good at playing a gay man learning to love himself. This is the third time!

I love that someone else saw potential in Kawi after he put himself out there. It wasn’t the chance he wanted, but it’s the one he found. This is actually really nice.

Curious whose perspective they want us to read this final montage from. Both? Neither?

Gawin played freshman Pisaeng differently. That was so well done. He’s talented.

Wow. I think I actually really like this show. It feels like it’s trying to gently deprogram the audience. It’s like it knew a lot of us were bringing a lot of hostile energy to the viewing and said, “Would you mind being just a little bit kinder?” and you know what, maybe I will be. This has been really lovely so far, and I think I need to soften my stance with it. There are some incredible ideas here about the important of community and treated each other with just a little bit more kindness and respect. I also like that the show said plainly that it hurts us all to withhold our feelings from each other, because even if we can’t reciprocate them we can still build something good for everyone out of it. I will be seated for the rest of this ride.

#be my favorite #be my favorite meta #thai bl #bl series #Ben watches

[voidcommascreamintothe]

Maiden, Mother, Crone - The Archeron Sisters as reincarnations of the Three Faced Goddess

Part 1

Elain, Ferye, Nesta. Three humans, turned Fae. Made magic. Or perhaps only awoken?

No I will not be normal about this, it is you who should be more weird about this.

It has always been clear to me that the three Archeron women have magic in their human blood. They are descendants of an acient deity, that once ruled over the lands alongside The Bone Carver, The Waver, and perhaps many other Deathless and Nameless gods. It is very much so confirmed by the Bone Carver themself that Feyre resembles and old god, powerful and cunning, who sought to hide herself and her magic, for reasons of a mysterious nature. This is just contextually picking up on the inherent meaning of the statement. In book 1, a big plot detail is that Feyre can taste and smell magic. She uses it to her advantage a few times during the events of book 1. This isn’t something that normal humans can do, seeing as how a lot of the village folk live in fear of magic and cant understand its working. The Human Lands are baren, cold, and stripped of all magic, and yet- Feyre can taste and smell it. And yet, Nesta remains of sound mind, immune to glamours, a type of magic that effects the mind. Elain only needs a little push to snap out of its influence.

These women are of magic descent, and to me this was a well established plot point. I interpreted the events above as the author just plainly telling this; although its entirely possible that i have been overthinking this because i have never been normal about these books, not once since i started them.

Feyre is the Mother, she is Mother Life, vindictive and vengeful; aggressively protecting her own kin, going and hunting down threats. She is the Mother; passionate and inclined towards the arts. Calm in the face of fear, and with a strong sense of duty. She claws, bites and rips out throats. A wild mother wolf, a wild beast. Feyre has always been inclined to go nuclear on her revenge plans. Sabotaging and undermining a religious leader, Ianthe, and plotting and successfully executing her revenge over an entire court of - lets be honest here, entirely innocent people, is very Aelin Galathyneus of her. Standing up to a magic wolf, with her throat exposed, she stood her ground and bargained. In the face of the heinous lie about her pregnancy, she was calm and brave and coping, only so that her son would not feel those things as he grows inside her womb. It is my headcanon that she went scorched earth on Rhysie’s ass afterwards.

Elain is the Maiden. She is Mother Nature. Ambivalent, and yet omniscient. Seeing all, reacting only just so.

When it comes to Elain, I don’t have much to work with; she has yet to have her books after all. However, I am confident in saying that he is not as mentally checked out of reality as I originally thought. She is a seer, one who sees the future. But this must also come with the immense strength to resist altering it. She either must not intervene, or do so incredibly delicately. She does also see the reality of what their situation was, in regards to the Archerons loosing their money, but she is rather unbothered by it. I hesitate to say she does not care, because again, we have not see her perspective yet, but she is aware how bad it was for them. In book one, there is a distinct moment when after Feyre comes back fro the Fae Land, Elain remarks on how the rich people treat them as if they didn’t loose all of their money, as if the last however many years did not happen. Its either cognitive dissonance, or Elain just does not.. care? Again, we have not seen her story, so I am speculating; and also resisting hating her for being docile and passive, and seemingly disinterested. Altho she is not a favored character of mine, I shan’t repeat history and hate on her as I did Sansa Stark.

That being said, her ambivalence and lack if action reminds me on nature and of natural disasters. Elain, the gardener, Elain the Mother Nature, The Maiden. A storm does not care if the levies might break and cause a flood, a mountain does not want anything, does not act on changing the outcomes of future events. Elain is a living being, who loves her sisters very much, so of course she reacts and saves them. But she was to be a young bride, in love and idealistic, yet she never consummated the marriage. Never got to be the bride, in fact. She seems to be stuck in this perpetual state of maidenhood, not quite moving on, remaining innocent, and maybe not yet ready to do anything else but ignore the happenings in front of her. She ignores Lucien, perhaps still grieving the loss of her old life and her old love.

Nesta is the Crone, The Mother Death. She is Lady Death. Meeting the Lord of Bloodshed at every step, a loyal companion to her friends, she is always there, inevitable as a rising storm. She is passive. She stays and guards. A mirrored image to Feyre in every way. She Makes objects of immense power. She creates and yet her power is pure death. But she creates. She does not want power. She creates, she seeks peace. What is more peaceful than Death’s embrace? Nesta has the power of the eternal flame. Her power coming out in silver flames perfectly encapsulates the power of fire: giving and taking life. Nesta is not vindictive. Don’t misunderstand me, she is actively cruel in Book 1, and a whole part if her journey was owning up to that. She recognized where she was wrong and made amends.

She is not nice, she was never taught to be nice. Her mother taught her how to read and manipulate people, not how to be kind and nice to them. She learns those things on her own. And again I ask, is Death nice and kind? It is peaceful and passive. A power that inspires awe. She is broken and rebuilds her self. She is Made, and i suspect that in order to be Made, she needed to die first. She inherits the most power out of all three sisters. Her dying during her Making means that she inherits Death itself. She experiences it, so she wields it because she understands it. She has lived many lives and appears older than she is. I personally thought that she was 30 in ACOSF, not 26, only 5 years older than Feyre. The narrative presents her to us as The Crone. She reads as someone older, harsher, someone who is also Death herself.

Where Feyre, Mother Life, is active, Nesta, Mother Death, is passive. Feyre hunts, Nesta guards. A mirrored image of eachother, they represent the cycle od life. The symbolism attached to them shows just how connected life and death truly are. Feyre and Nesta are always invoked in each other’s inner monologue. It is also entirely plausible that they each had an almost pathological need to keep Elain safe and innocent, because that was the only way to show that one cares for the other. Nesta loves Elain, but she keeps her safe because that is what Feyre would want. This fact, that Nesta would do anything to keep Elain safe, is very clearly stated by Feyre in both book 1 and 2. They both love Elain, no doubts about that. But Nesta’s and Feyre’s relationship was so burdened and volitale, that the only way for them to show affection was through the unspoken rule that Elain stays safe, is kept safe, at all costs. Nesta and Feyre, Death and Life, two sides of the same coin.

For me, it has always been reasonable to assume that the sisters represent one of the three faces of The Three Faced Goddess. Its buried in metaphor and vague statements, but it is there regardless. The more I read the books, the more obvious the comparison was. Having read Throne of Glass as well, the sisters also remind me of the Three Faced Goddess worshiped by the witches. After all, it was an ancient Witch God that hid her power and herself in the human lands; a place without magic and entirely mundane.

I intend to elaborate further in part 2 of this essay, but for now, let us enjoy quite a unique take on the Goddess Hecate. The Greek goddess has had many a modern interpretations, but I have not seen one done as subtly as this one. Having three separate people represent her faces, and therefore phases of a woman’s life, is new to me at least. Maas doesn’t really reimagine the old greek myths in a 1-to-1 recreation, but rather a loose inspiration taken from the core of the story. I quite enjoyed placing it all together.

More on how Nesta is the one to Bless Aelin’s blood line, and even how she might have started said bloodline in part 2.

Bonsoir.

#nesta archeron #pro acosf #cassian acotar #acotar #nesta acotar #feyre archeron #pro nesta #pro feyre #pro elain #acosf #acomaf #acowar #tog #throne of glass #sarah j maas #sjm #sjm books #maasverse #acotar fan theory

[creativepawsworld]

Everything But You - Part 9

Pairing = Cillian Murphy x OC

Summary = Things are moving forward for Brie and Cillian. Both have some hard decisions to make. 

Warnings = Language, Grammar, 90s Cillian, Insults, 

Word Count = 3503

Note = We are nearly done...this took a lot longer than I intended but thank you all for sticking with me. I love you all so much. 

Tonight, Cillian was going to tell the boys in the band he was leaving. He had decided that after getting the part of ‘Pig’ in the stage show Disco Pigs, he would focus the majority of his spare time rehearsing.

Instead of touring with the band in hopes of achieving a record label. 

He had been nervous most of the day. Going over exactly what he wanted to say. After forming lasting friendships with some of the boys, his nerves were justified. He was worried their friendship would simply end. 

The year was flying by incredibly fast, we had our first-year, final exams last month. I was apprehensive about receiving the results. I was terrified I had failed them. After not hearing back from Riverdance, I considered that another rejection and my last. I wouldn’t put myself through it again, they simply didn’t want me. 

But If I had failed my exams as well, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I would be lost. My whole life I had been fighting for both and the thought of receiving nothing, scared me. 

The only thing I could see going right in my life at this moment was my relationship with Cillian. This was something I never saw coming, he appeared out of the blue, capturing my heart. He was something outside of myself that had my heart beating again. 

Cillian was completely unbothered about whether or not he passed the final exam. It was clear law wasn’t for him. I called it the first day we had a class together, he was more interested in getting my attention than he was listening to the lecturer.  

The last few weeks he had spent rehearsing his lines and trying to figure out the best way to approach the complex character that was Darren, aka Pig. I had never seen Cillian so engrossed in something before, not even when he was writing songs or performing on stage. This was different, this was his true passion. 

The first show was in Dublin Theatre in 8 weeks. Cillian had two weeks to get his affairs in order before having to travel from Cork to Dublin for rehearsals. He had six weeks of on stage rehearsals before finally going public for the first. 

He had the option of staying with the other cast members in a house-share type accommodation but decided not to. He liked coming home every night even for 30 minutes just to see me. 

“He’s gonna burn a hole in that floor, tell em to sit down.” Paidi, Cillian’s younger brother commented. 

Looking towards him he was sprawled out on the small sofa provided for the band’s set to play at the local bars during the week. Tonight was The Son’s of Mr Green Genes' last performance, a fact known to the three of us in this room. The other band members had yet to arrive for their sound check. 

I attended Cillian’s house last weekend for Sunday lunch at his mother’s request. After having dinner with my father, his parents felt it was only fair they got to meet the girl, their son had chosen to yield his wild ways. 

The lunch went well, meeting his family was much less awkward than it was meeting Andrew's parents. Cillian’s family were welcoming, whereas I always felt judged and not good enough for Andrew's parents. 

“Cill, maybe sit down for a bit. You are gonna exhausted yourself before your due on stage.” I agreed standing in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. “They are going to be okay. They will either find someone to replace you both, or everyone will go their separate ways.” 

“I just, I feel like I am letting them down.” 

“I would rather you let down everyone in this room and outside it before letting yourself down Cillian.” I smiled placing my hands on either side of his upper arms and rubbing them. 

“Beautiful and smart.” Cillian grinned down at me, leaning down to capture my lips in a short, sweet kiss. Only pulling away at the sounds of his brother’s gag reflex. 

“CILLIAN YOU'RE NEVER GONNA BELIEVE IT.” Casey’s voice suddenly took over the room. 

Stepping away from him I allowed the blonde man to step in, replacing my hands on Cillian’s upper arms. He had one of the biggest smiles I had ever seen. I was used to him constantly scowling, especially when I was around. 

“Acid Kazz is outside and wants to speak to you, man. They are willing to offer a five-album contract record deal if we hit all the right notes tonight.” Casey continued. 

My jaw fell open much like Cillian’s, the two of us staring at his friend. I wasn’t sure if this was some kind of joke or if life was playing a cruel prank on Cillian. Forcing him to make what I considered an impossible decision. 

“Go, go talk to them, man. I swear it’s real. We fucking did it. Finally.” Casey beamed, and with a large smile, he started placing open-hand slaps against Cillian’s chest and back, forcing him out the door and towards whoever was on the other side waiting to talk to him. 

“Congratulations, that’s great news for the band. You must be dancing on air right now.” I smiled shoving my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. I was unsure of what else to do with them. 

“Yeah, it's amazing. Sucks for you though. Cill will be too busy with the band now to spend any time with you.” Casey shrugged off, turning his back to me and taking his bass out of its case. 

Glancing over towards Paidi he shook his head at the bassist before rolling his eyes playfully at me. Being the youngest in the band, no one took him seriously. They just considered him Cillian’s younger brother, easily replaceable if need be. 

“Right...” I trailed off not bothering to respond to the blonde. “Great news for you too, but what are you going to do about school?” I asked Paidi who sighed with a slight shake of his head. 

“Ma will never let me skip out until I finish so I don’t know. Probably have to leave it all behind.” 

“I’m sure you will be missed.” I smiled softly. Much like Cillian, Paidi loved music, he came alive on stage. You could see it in the way his fingers moved along the neck of the guitar or the smile he sent to the crowd every so often. 

“Yeah, but we can find someone to replace you man don’t worry. I met this guy at the bar the other night, he is pretty good.” Casey replied bluntly. 

“Gee thanks, man.” Paidi scoffed. Bringing one hand up to his other, he rubbed along his bicep, hurt evident behind his eyes. 

“I am sure Paidi can at least record one album with you. He was a member when the record label found you after all.” I explained, trying my best not to glare at the older of the two boys. “He will be available after school and most of the summer.” 

“No offence Brianna, but that’s not how bands work. I don’t need a part-time guitarist. It’s been holding us back. The only reason he is in the band is because of Cillian.” 

“Excuse you?” I gasped wide-eyed at the complete audacity this man was showing. I heard of people getting too big for their boots when the prospect of success was in the future but this was ridiculous. 

“Well he is a good guitar player, not bad on the piano either but he is just a kid. We are going to the big leagues now.” 

“You haven’t even got the contract and already you think you're going to go places?” I laughed not quite believing the man standing in front of me.  

“Like I said you haven’t a clue about music. Someone offering you a five-album contract is a pretty big deal. Not like you’ll be around long enough to see that.” Casey snapped, moving forward so he was now standing in front of me. “Cillian will have plenty of women throwing themselves at his feet. You will be nothing more than a distant memory.” 

“Now hang on...” Paidi stood up next to me, immediately jumping to my defence. 

“I don’t see what he sees in you. Average at best.” Casey continued ignoring the younger of the Murphy brothers. “He should have just left you alone after the first night he slept with you. Sluts like you always land on your feet don’t ya”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Paidi growled shoving the blonde back with a hard push of his hand. 

“I’m just telling it how it is. She fucking spread her legs the first chance she got, once a slut always a slut.” 

Pulling Paidi away from the man, I fought against the tears threatening to fall. Shaking my head at him I pushed Paidi towards the corner of the room, quietly asking him not to mention any of this to Cillian until later. 

“Why? Casey is way out of line Brie, he is a fucking cunt.” Paidi glared over my shoulder. 

“He’s not worth it,” I whispered, wiping the few tears that escaped on the sleeve of my jacket. “Look I want Cillian to have a clear perspective going into tonight. If he wants to pursue music great, if not even better but it’s his decision to make. I don’t want anything influencing it”  

“He already decided. He is going to the stage show.” 

“Right but that was before the offer of a record deal Paidi. Let’s just see what happens. Let’s just forget everything for now.” 

*****

Twirling the small red straw in my drink, my mind was miles away. My friends joined me in the main part of the bar. Over the last few months of attending numerous concerts, they found themselves enjoying the music Cillian’s band performed.

“We dreaming of Mr Blue Eyes again.” Billy winked nudging into my side, bringing me back into reality. “He haunts my dreams girl. Those goddamn eyes.”

“They are hypnotic,” Marion commented with a slight nod. She had known Cillian the least but much like the rest of us, felt entranced by his eyes. “Everything okay with you two? You don’t seem yourself?”

“Things with Cillian are great,” I nodded, a small smile pulling at the corner of my lips at the mere mention of his name. “His bandmate on the other hand, not so much.”

“Which one? Who upset our girl?” Billy demanded, slamming his glass onto the bar table. The music from the band drowned out the sharp snap of glass. “I swear if you don’t tell me, I’ll march up on that stage and interrogate each one of them.”

“It’s Casey, the bass player. He’s been against me since Cillian and I got together. He said a few things earlier that just have been playing in my head.”

“Like what?” Aoife asked joining the conversation for the first time. She had disappeared into the bathroom as soon as she sat down, sickness has been plaguing her all week. But being afraid to miss anything, she insisted on coming out tonight.

“The band’s been offered a record deal. Five albums.” I nodded, my eyes not once lifting from the red straw in my glass. “He said Cillian will have women falling at his feet and he would forget all about a slut like me.”

“HE WHAT?” Aoife screeched, gaining only the attention of those standing next to us, or at the near tables. “He actually called you a slut?”

“His words were, sluts like me always land on their feet,” I repeated the words, plaguing my mind for the last hour.

“I’ll fucking kill him”

“Woah wait, wait. What did ole blue eyes say about this?” Billy interrupted holding his hand high into the air, stopping anyone else from speaking until he had finished.

“He doesn’t know.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t know?” Aoife barked back, the anger she was feeling evident on her face.

“I didn’t want him to know. Not until after the performance.”

“Why the fuck would that matter? He can’t talk about you like that? Cillian better not let him off with that” She growled, reaching forward to gulp back a large mouthful of water.

“Because he has enough on his plate at the minute.” I sighed, leaning on the table with my forearms. “The record deal isn’t the only offer Cill’s got. He has been cast as one of the leads in a stage play called Disco Pigs. Guys, he is amazing, honestly. The emotions he can pull from you...he is just brilliant.”

“Someone’s in love.” Billy grinned, placing a gentle hand across my shoulders.

***** 

Clapping and screaming, cheers of praise with Billy. Cillian looked over in our direction shooting a wink in our direction which Billy claimed was for him and him alone. The band took one finally bow before heading off stage, Cillian gestured for me to meet him backstage but I declined. Confusing him. 

“You gonna tell him?” Billy asked, fanning the sweat from his face. Between the amount of bodies in the bar and the unusual heatwave we were experiencing, it felt like we were standing in an oven. 

“Not tonight, I want it to be his night.” 

“Why are you so good?” Billy grinned, “Blue eyes better realise how god damn lucky he is having you by his side.” 

“I’ll be sure to bring it up a few times.” I laughed. The two of us weaved our way through the crowd, back towards the table. Aoife was holding her head while Marion rubbed at her back. “Ef you okay?” 

“Yeah, just need to go home Brie. Sorry.” She groaned, shakily standing to her feet with the help of Marion. 

“I’m just gonna run her home. I’ll be back for you Mr don’t be getting into any trouble.” She pointed at Billy with a smirk. “Are you spending the night with Cill?” 

“Maybe, I’ll see.” I nodded unsure of what his final decision was going to be. He may have decided to stay with the band, let his acting whim go and if that was the case. I didn’t want to be around Casey, especially not tonight.

Saying our goodbyes to the girls. Billy dragged me around the back alley, claiming he was gagging for a smoke. Just as we rounded the corner we came to an immediate stop, raised voices catching our attention instantly. 

“Oh Blue eyes don’t look happy” Billy spoke in a hushed tone. “Looks like someone told him. Who else was in the room with you?” 

“Paidi, Cillian’s little brother.” I whispered cautiously stepping forward. Billy gripped onto my arm, almost as if he was hiding behind me, yet pushing me forward at the same time.

“Fuck you! Who do you think are talking to my girl like that?” Cillian raged. I had never seen such an anger in a man before as he squared up to his taller friend. 

“She won’t always be around for you Cill. Open your fucking eyes.” 

“She supports me much more than you fucking bastards do.” 

“How? By setting you up for failure.” 

“Not failure success. Because of her I am actually doing something that has made me feel alive.” 

“And what’s that? She gives you a good blow job every once in a while and suddenly your the king of the bloody castle.” Casey boosted. Having enough, Cillian’s arm withdrew before coming forward hitting the taller man straight on the jaw, knocking him back on his feet. 

“In case you didn’t get the message. I’m done with the band, so fuck you, fuck the record deal and fuck the band.” Cillian spat, holding his two hands up he flipped off Casey who was now leaning against the bar wall holding his jaw. 

“All this for some slut? Are you having a fucking laugh?” 

“Fucking talk about her like that again and I swear to god I will not be responsible for my actions.” 

“That righ...” Casey provoked. 

Pulling away from Billy I ran towards Cillian placing my hands firmly against his solid chest. I could feel the anger radiating through him, it felt like he was vibrating beneath my hands. 

“He isn’t worth it, hey look at me” I pleaded moving my hands up towards his face, holding him in place. He cast his eyes down to me briefly, his pupils were blown wide with anger. “Look at me, he isn’t worth it.” 

“He can’t call you...” 

“I’ve been called worse. Leave it.” I smiled softly, gently pushing him back towards Billy who helped me turn his solid body around and away from what I would assume was a former friend now. 

“That’s right, go. Throw you career away. Idiot Murphy. You're a fucking idiot.” 

“Throwing away nothing mate” Cillian smirked throwing himself around to face the blonde once more. “You record label means jack shit if I don’t sign it. It’s my songs after all. You got fuck all.” 

Looking up at Cillian, a smugness was slowly replacing his anger. Glancing over at Casey the realisation of Cillian’s words sunk in. The once cocky blonde, now turned pale white, sickly white. 

“Is that true?” I asked looking up at Cillian softly. 

“Take that bitch.” Billy yelled with a large smirk. Shaking my head at him I looked up at Cillian, he just held me close. Wrapping his arm around my shoulders we decided to leave the bar, having enough excitement for the night. 

*****

A few days after the excitement in the bar I was sitting with Cillian inside his bedroom. He was leaving for his Dublin tomorrow to start the stage rehearsals for his play. 

“Are you nervous?” I asked playing with the aglet on my lace of my converse shoe. 

“A little” Cillian nodded smiling softly at me. His hand came over cupping the side of my face, his thumb stroking my cheekbone softly. “But I’m making the right decision I can feel it.” 

“That’s all that matters then.” I whispered leaning into his touch. “I’m gonna miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you too.” Cillian smiled sadly before a mischievous look appeared on his face. “You know the next semester doesn’t start until what late September? You could come with me to Dublin.” 

“Your not serious Cillian what am I suppose to do in Dublin?” I laughed softly but Cillian stepped away from me, really thinking, almost like he was trying to put together all the jigsaw pieces in his head.

“Why not? Its only up the road then we can tour together. It’s only in Dublin for a few weeks then I’m back in Cork before moving to Edinburgh. It’ll be a summer you wont forget.” 

“Cillian...” I trailed off shaking my head softly this was an insane idea. 

“Brie... I love you. I love you alright and I don’t want to be apart from you unless I absolutely have to. You gave me the courage to pursue this dream, come live it with me. It will be you and me.” 

My mouth dropped as he mentioned those three words. Three words I’d never expected him to say. Cillian came over to me grabbing my hands in his, holding them up to his chest so I could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest. 

“I love you Brianna.” 

“I love you to Cillian” I chuckled softly not quite believing what was happening. I wiped the tears away from cheeks, they were happy tears. “I love you so much.” 

I took his head into my hands kissing him passionately. I didn’t care if his brother Paidi walked through the door or not, I didn’t care if his mother walked through the door I was happy. 

“I’ll come on tour with you but I’m not going home after Edinburgh.” I nodded not knowing how I was going to survive. My savings were okay but not enough to last, I would just have to talk to my dad.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Cillian asked, fighting off an even bigger smile that threatened to spill onto his face. 

“Yeah, it’s not like I am going to Riverdance anytime soon and I always wanted to take a gap year so why the bloody hell not.” I giggled, placing my hands firmly on his chest, ignoring the ringing phone in my pocket. 

“Are you really sure?” He asked, eyes squinting down to see if he could detect any sign of lying. Nodding my head, I pulled away from him briefly to check the caller id on my phone. - unknown. 

“Nothing will stop me going on tour with you Mr Murphy.” I grinned placing my phone back into my pocket before throwing my arms around his shoulders. Pressing our foreheads tightly together, we stared into each other’s eyes. “I’m letting go of Everything but You”

Taglist  

@stars-of-scorpio @lovemissyhoneybee @peakyscillian​ @cillmequick​ @forgottenpeakywriter​ @lyarr24  @brummiereader​

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #90s cillian murphy #90s cillian #everything but you #part9 #originalcharacter #oc #cillianmurphyxoc

[menalez]

I hate the way you are being treated for experiencing trauma and sexual abuse, no survivor deserves this including you. I acknowledge you have incredible grace in dealing with this but more importantly you shouldn’t have to, it’s not right to put a survivor in this situation and constantly triggering their trauma no matter what you think about them. I have had similar experiences with CSA and ongoing SA after and I can’t imagine how I would deal with being picked apart like you have been. I don’t care what grievances these people have with you, if they actually supported survivors they wouldn’t react in this way to you (also I fully believe you about your experiences and about your sexuality if that isn’t clear). It sickens me to see people saying they fight for women’s rights treat you like this. If we can’t support our fellow women what’s the point? I know not all women have the same opinions and politics but it’s seems very basic to me to not harass a survivor of these things. The least they could do is shut up and leave you alone. I honestly don’t know how you can deal with this, I know if it was directed at me I would’ve either fallen deeper into CPTSD or gone offline entirely or both. I am glad you have the strength to continue though bc I think your perspective on many issues is difficult to find and deeply important to hear. I guess I don’t know what I mean with this message other than thank you for what you do and please do not let these awful people take you back into that horrible place that I think all survivors know. Your voice is so important and I hope to continue hearing it, you make change being outspoken. I know we can’t control being triggered and sometimes can’t regulate our responses but I hope that you can block these people and be as unbothered as is possible. Other survivors see you, I see you, I know we are in some ways the same and these people clearly cannot conceive of being in our position

it’s not right to put a survivor in this situation and constantly triggering their trauma no matter what you think about them.

i keep saying this but it just falls on deaf ears!

in terms of how i deal with this… ive said this before & was mocked for it but this has triggered my PTSD several times. i almost always end up having nightmares for weeks afterwards, more flashbacks, and perhaps a mental breakdown or two followed by a long period of dissociation. when i brought up how deeply hurtful it is and how much it triggers me, i end up getting mocked & accused of guilt tripping.

so basically, i’m not allowed to respond to assumptions made about my trauma bc it’s traumadumping. i’m not allowed to talk about the negative impact being harassed over my trauma by these ppl has bc it’s guilt tripping. they have the right to say vile things like saying i’m a “retired ho” (for having a trauma response like hypersexuality as a child and being sexually abused????) and saying that me reacting in a common way CSA victims react to rape a decade ago makes me bipolar or histrionic (love being called a hysterical slut for having a normal reaction to facing rape as my first sexual experience) but i have no right to correct these assumptions at all. it always ends up with several of them harassing me on & off anon, and other people just silently watching. once these ppl leave like they always inevitably do, then radblr starts talking about how horrible these ppl are & often will even harass me over these ppl’s presence as well! idk. it’s a constant lose-lose for me.

anyways… thank u for ur sweet msg ❤️ many other CSA survivours & rape survivours have reached out to me and told me that me talking about my story made them feel less crazy/alone bc they also have a similar story. many are lesbians who face an additional trauma & disgust & shame bc they see how trauma similar to their own is misconstrued & talked about. i’m glad at least that from this persistent harassment i’ve been experiencing for like 5 years now, women with similar stories reached out to me. it made me feel less alone and more understood. i try not to let all this stuff affect me & have been taking breaks online and/or talking to my gf whenever it does take a toll on me. it doesn’t fix it but it helps. some of it is unavoidable bc no matter how many anons i block, i keep getting msgs about it regardless and new blogs keep being made to discuss it

#in the past i’ve hurt myself over my PTSD being triggered but #over time ive learned to control my self-harm behaviours better #i just hope one day they wake up to wtf they’re doing & how horrible they’re being n just stop it #some of these ppl from the past did apologise to me after some time but #idk. an apology is nice but i hope this just stops one day bc the damage is already done

[fruitcoops]

i don't know if you're still doing requests, but would you consider doing something like "Her Boys" but with sexism, like the lions shutting down sexist reporters? please and thank you and totally fine if you don't to

Sure can! The first fic is linked here, SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW for sexism

#1: Pascal Dumais

“Dumo, how do you feel about the recent influx of female reporters in the NHL?” a young man asked, holding his recording device closer to the table.

Pascal raised a brow. “I am extremely pleased to see it, though I am surprised by the idea that hiring five women is considered an ‘influx’.”

“Will you miss their male counterparts?”

“Not particularly.”

Muttering piqued in a few pockets of the room before it was quickly hushed; Pascal appeared unfazed, and nodded for a new question from an older commentator. “Mr. Dumais, it sounds like you have an issue with the organization’s hiring practices,” he said. “Is that true?”

Pascal folded his hands on the table, leaning forward slightly. His expression remained mild, his voice calm. “I have an issue with the organization doing the bare minimum and expecting applause, and I would like to take this moment to remind you that my wife is an incredibly capable journalist in her own right. In case that would affect your further questions.”

#2: Logan Tremblay

“Ouais, you in the front?”

“Mr. Tremblay, there has been some discussion among team owners about the wage gap between the men’s and women’s hockey leagues lately. Do you have a comment?”

“The women’s team has always and will always have my full support,” Logan answered without hesitation. “They work just as hard as we do and get less than half the recognition.”

“Well, the WNHL historically has lower views than—”

“Perhaps you should bring that up with the television providers.” His eyes were like flint, deadly and ready to spark as he held eye contact with the reporter. Logan’s brow twitched; the man’s half-smile slipped for a moment before he cleared his throat and attempted to scrape together some dignity.

“Would you be willing to take a pay cut to make up for the disparity between organizations?”

A soft laugh was amplified by Logan’s microphone. To his right, Finn bit the inside of his cheek to hide a grin. “I’ve seen my sister put an opponent through the boards for a dirty play,” he said after a moment of thought. “Together, I think the three of them have racked up more points than half this team. So yes, I would take a cut if it meant they were paid fairly for their work and I didn’t end up getting wedgied for being a sexist pig. You should consider the same.”

#3: James Potter

“Can you say ‘thank you’?”

“Thank you!”

James winced a little as Harry’s greeting echoed through the room, but the baby’s chirping voice brought a smile to each face in spite of the microphone’s squeal. “Sorry about that,” he laughed, easing Harry back on his thigh. “We’re working on volume control. Any final questions before I head out? Yes, you?”

“Just an easy one,” the older man chuckled with a wave to Harry. “And then I’ll let you go back to babysitting. What—”

“I’m sorry, hold on.” James held his hands up in a ‘timeout’ motion as he leaned in. “Did you say ‘babysitting’?”

“I…yes?”

He tilted his head to the side in confusion, though there was a tense set to his shoulders. Harry continued to gum at the frayed cuff of his Lions hoodie, unbothered. “This is my son,” James clarified. “Do you have kids you babysit?”

“Well, only when their mother is out with her friends,” the other man joked. A few laughs rippled over the rest of the press, but the majority remained quiet. Tense. Cameras sat poised in two dozen pairs of hands.

James bit his lower lip, smoothing Harry’s chick-fluff hair off his forehead. “I’m not sure I understand. Can you explain? Does she pay you?”

“Um. No.” Several heads swiveled toward the middle seat. “When my wife is out, I watch the kids. It was—it was a joke.”

“So you watch the kids while your wife is having fun with her friends,” James repeated with a nod. “Yeah, in my house, we just call that parenting.”

#4: Leo Knut

From the look on his face, Gryffindor’s rising star would rather be dragged across the rink by his toes than sit in the tiny folding chair for another moment. His saving grace was a half-full iced coffee, delivered by Finn O’Hara with a gentle shoulder squeeze 30 minutes prior, and he clutched it in one hand like a lifeline while his chin slowly slid down the other with each passing second.

“—and really, it’s a serious issue in the NHL today,” Malcolm Henessey of Hockey Daily magazine continued. “The rise of the WNHL and their push for excess funding is taking away from the necessities of the major league. The women’s teams are not nearly as established as the central men’s teams, and yet they are asking for perks that come with seniority they have not earned yet—”

“Dude.” Malcolm’s mouth snapped shut at the sudden interruption after several minutes of listening to his own voice. Leo ran a hand down his face, straightened, and glanced down at his watch. Exhaustion stamped every feature. “Mr. Henessey. It is 10:57 pm on a Wednesday, I just played a full game of professional hockey, and you’re going to sit there and be a misogynist? Really? Right in front of my iced coffee?”

“I—”

“Does anyone here have questions that actually pertain to the game tonight instead of being fucking rude about other hockey players? Cause if you don’t, I’m going to bed.”

#pascal dumais #james potter #logan tremblay #leo knut #lions #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #lion pride #sexism

[bilbobagginsomebabez]

there are ways of saying what everybody else is thinking that feel so so so so so good and it's usually when you take the step to reassure someone

like ok you've got an anxious acquaintance and you're in a situation where you can guess where the anxiety is stemming from. it takes nothing to say "I see what you're thinking, it's okay, I see why you think that, I can provide reasoning for why it's not accurate right now, and I'm here to comfort you either way."

ive got a burgeoning friend who clearly feels an incredible amount of anxiety every single time she cancels on me. she grew up catholic and they're all hella fucked up by the guilt-complex motivated Personal Responsibility To Everyone Else so i am guessing that she feels like she's Failing At The Right Thing every time she's too tired to show up for coffee. i am unbothered. i really do not care. she texts me every single time, she's got a stressful ass job with a ton of responsibility to children, and I don't think she'd endure the guilt of cancelling if she didn't actually wanna hang out. so i told her that outright. I told her that I literally do not think she's lying or making excuses, i 100% believe that she's giving me real and valid reasons for her actions, and I am not upset with her at all. I am in fact happy that she trusts me enough to not freak the fuck out on her to tell me what's going on and why she can't come. it's clear that a parental figure regularly freaked the fuck out on her

and that is what everyone else is thinking. everyone that knows this girl is like 'heart of gold, anxious as hell.' and you know what?? she would probably literally be less anxious if more people than me started telling her she's got a heart of gold and we wouldn't even be mad or worried if she was lying. i'd literally assume it was for a good enough reason to just go along with it. she doesn't have a mean bone in her fucking body why tf would I be concerned about her reasons to lie.

and yeah! a good part of this is rooted in what I would have needed comfort for at a previous time in my life. i didn't grow up catholic but i know what it's like to have a parental figure with demands of you they will extract without regard for your wellbeing. it was a different flavor soup, but it was the same broth in the end. and that's part of the joy isn't it? recognizing an unfulfilled need in yourself along with your own fundamental capability to fill that need for another person. to become the person you needed once upon a time. to stop a cruelty you've experienced in its tracks. to save the next person.

there is no better feeling than passing along the fucking relief. becoming the balm. trusting that someday it will get passed forward back to you

[undermounts]

bite the hand - chapter 4: false idol of mine

pairing: Astarion/The Dark Urge

summary: Astarion helps her hide the body. Romance ensues.

chapter preview:

The following evening, there is a devil in their campsite.

And it isn’t Karlach.

Read it on Ao3

The next morning, Astarion’s tribunal ends without bloodshed, much to Irileth’s immense relief.

It comes a little close once (Lae’zel unsheathing her greatsword, she holds it like an executioner’s axe—‘Bloodsucker!’) but cooler heads prevail. Namely Wyll’s, of all people.

“At ease everyone,” he says placatingly. “There is no need to spill blood on peaceful ground.”

“I’m sorry, but aren’t you some sort of monster hunter?” Gale interjects, frowning. “I feel as though I am experiencing a disconnect between that title and what is taking place here.”

“Monster,” Lae’zel clarifies. “So, hunt. Our course of action seems quite clear to me.”

“Vampire he may be, but Astarion is no beast,” Wyll explains. “He’s just a spawn. I’m more concerned about his former master.”

“Just a spawn?” Astarion echoes, miffed. But he bites his tongue when Lae’zel’s reaffirms her grip on her sword. “Of course. There are, as they say, bigger fish to fry. I will happily point you in the right direction. A gesture of goodwill, Wyll. ”

Oh, dear gods, Irileth thinks, vexed. Astarion truly is dedicated to his own demise.

“I didn’t say you were harmless,” Wyll retorts and it is clear from his tone that he doesn’t mean that as the compliment Astarion surely thinks it is. “I am only saying being a spawn does not automatically equate to being completely evil. Many are turned without their consent.”

Astarion sneers. “My, my, aren’t you well informed.”

“If you are evil,” Wyll continues, “you can rest assured knowing that I will not let you roam free. For now, consider this your probation. You’d best behave yourself.”

On and on it goes until Astarion is left alone, thoroughly scrutinized but ultimately unstaked. And for all of the threats he received, he looks remarkably unbothered. Smug even. Across the clearing, he meets Irileth’s gaze and smirks.

She’s moving toward him before she’s even realized. Damn it.

“That went quite well, don’t you think?” Astarion says glibly as she approaches. He gestures to himself. “No wooden stakes in my heart. Today is shaping up to be a splendid day.”

“You are certainly in a good mood,” Irileth replies, giving him a once over. Again, looking at him now in the full light of day, the change in him is subtle but considerable. He stands taller, prouder, and not (only) in the arrogant, preening way he did before, when he still pretended to be a noble. He is confident. Secure.  

“Why wouldn’t I be? I feel incredible. Powerful. Ready to take on the world!” He grins, laughing lightly, and closes his eyes.  His words become more hushed as he continues on, voice full of so much wonder. “I’ve imagined it so many times, but I never thought…I never thought it would feel like this. That I could feel like this.”

“Blood really has this sort of effect on you?”

“Yours does, certainly,” Astarion teases, and his gaze is lidded when he looks at her. “Animals, beasts… not nearly so much.”

“It’s no wonder Cazador forbid us from drinking it.” Astarion suddenly looks away and his fingers fumble with the metal fastenings of his new gloves. His resentment is made clear in the tense lines around his mouth and the deep furrow of his brow. “Why waste perfectly good blood on a bunch of slaves?”

Cazador. Master.

Irileth saw glimpses of the vampire lord through Astarion’s mind last night, though she never got a full look. Oil slick hair, grey skin, and glowing red eyes. She can hear his voice, though there are no distinguishable words, only an aura of malice.

(Gods help the wretch if she ever finds him; she will crack his chest wide open and construct a shrine with his ribs.)

“But I’m not his slave anymore,” he says fiercely, more to himself than her. “I’m free. Conveniently lost. And I’m never going back. Now,” he adds, looking at her, “you all know what I am. Which means I can fight with everything at my disposal—fangs included.”

His smile is all teeth and challenge, which reminds Irileth of the question that has been floating about her head ever since she awoke that morning. “How often do you need it? Blood from people.”

“Mmm, hard to say, really,” he hums, shooting for nonchalant as he examines his cuticles. “Depends on what we do. If we’re just traveling, engaging in some light fighting from time to time?” A shrug. “Then a little nibble every now and then will do just fine. Perhaps when a ripe neck presents itself in a fight?” 

Irileth raises a brow. “And if we’re pushing it?”

Astarion’s eyes are intent on hers. His voice drops to a low tenor, purring, “Then I’ll take anything and everything I can get.”

How quickly his moods change! It is nearly dizzying, but despite herself, Irileth feels her insides turn molten. Her brain positively lights up with the fresh memory of him pressed into her back, teeth in her neck. How Astarion groaned when he first pierced her skin, mouth full with the taste of her.

Astarion smiles like they are indulging in the same memory. Then, he reaches out and brushes Irileth’s hair off of her shoulder with a feather light touch. Just when she thinks he is going to caress her neck and the tender marks that still sit there, his fingers alight on the buckle of her armor, adjusting the strap. 

With truly—cursedly—impeccable timing, Wyll calls out from the edge of camp where he and Lae’zel stand ready to depart. Irileth must be unwittingly glaring at Astarion because he laughs lowly as he pulls away, all melted sugar and rich smoke. 

“Let’s go hunt a devil, darling,” he purrs with his trademark, sinful smirk. “I think it’s high time for you to see just what you’ve done to me, too.”

A little blood, it seems, goes a long way.

With ease, they tear through the gnolls and bloated hyenas that roam in pockets around the Risen Road. Irileth sees now that before Astarion had supped of her blood, he wasn’t even close to reaching his full potential. Being well fed has made him stronger. Faster, too. Better.

He doesn’t fight like she does. Dancing through the thick of it; she waffles between striking where she is most needed and appearing where she is least expected. Prior to last night, Astarion mostly kept to the edges of a fight, but now he dips in and out of the fray—unseen arrow, hidden knife. 

It delights Irileth every time his arrow pierces the throat of a beast in her radius, or whenever he drops down from his vantage point, a dark blur limned in silver, and drives his daggers into the back of her immediate foe, priming her death blow. 

Lae’zel and Wyll are terrors in their own right. Lae’zel’s unflagging stamina and devastating swings complement Wyll’s concentrated blasts of magic to wheedle the gnolls down. But the two rogues working in tandem are the pressure point upon which the hordes break.

The whole thing is glorious, if not a little repulsive (hyenas whimper-writhing, distended bellies bulging, bursting!) and provides some very fascinating insight into the other uses of their illithid stowaways. When they find the gnoll pack leader, the tadpole twitches, pulses, and Irileth forces her way into her mind without hesitation. She sees the creature’s insatiable hunger, her spoiled devotion to the Voice. 

(A bloodied handprint smeared across a slab of stone, it melts into a skull. They yearn to eat the world whole, but the Voice is unrelenting, all encompassing. Absolute.)

Poor, loathsome creature. It would be kinder for Irileth to just kill it, kill it like she has killed all the rest. But the urge within gnashes its teeth. 

If you are so hungry, Irileth coaxes into the pack leader’s mind, forcing it to turn its attention to its remaining fellow gnoll hunters, to see them from a new, bloodier perspective. Then feast.

The following evening, there is a devil in their campsite.

And it isn’t Karlach.

Wyll is bound to Mizora, a gods damned devil, member of the Archdevil Zariel’s inner circle. Selfishly, Irileth feels betrayed. She had hoped… He is supposed to be a hero. Pride of the Gate. The Blade of Frontiers.  

And now? Now, Irileth doesn’t know.

Serves her right, she supposes, for being so naive as to fall for his chivalrous and heroic persona. A facade, she thinks bitterly—all of it. Astarion would tell her that she is the worst kind of fool—the hopeful kind—for actually believing that once Wyll completed his hunt and was freed of his duty, he would transform into some sort of knight in shining armor, just like in his stories, and put everything to rights. In the end, she is just as responsible for her own disappointment, for believing that Wyll—that anyone else—could save her.

This is quickly becoming a trend, it seems: her being repeatedly tricked by her companions into seeing one thing while reality is quite another.

After Mizora vanished in a blazing puff of fire and smoke, Wyll retreated from the heart of camp to sulk alone by the river. Irileth studies his unfamiliar silhouette, the new horns that curl back from his head.

“Poor guy,” Karlach sighs, kicking the dirt. “Mizora’s a nasty one. There is literally no one in all of Avernus more unpleasant than her. Except Zariel. Fucking devils man.”

At least one good thing came out of all of this, Irileth reminds herself. Karlach’s presence burns beside her, heat rolling off of the barbarian in waves. Irileth maintains what she thinks might be a safe distance, eyeing the flames that lick off of Karlach’s red skin. They’ve all seen first hand today just how hot Karlach can burn, and she has no intention of feeling it as well (even though a part of her fantasizes about it, craves it).

Irileth and the others watched from the road as the toll house smoldered to ruins. The sound of wood snapping and glass shattering echoed from within, and above it all, there was Karlach whooping and hollering in all of her frenzied rage.

“I’m free! Free! AhaHAHAHAHAHA! And I’m NEVER. GOING. BACK! ”

“You’re taking all of this in stride,” Irileth replies now, picking at the side of her thumb. It eases some part of her, to have something to do with her hands. Due to her personal commitment to keep her blades sheathed at camp, she has resorted to this: clawing up her own skin like an undisciplined child.

“It’s hard not to,” Karlach answers, and, evidently also not one to keep still, she bounces from side to side on the balls of her feet. “Don’t mean to monologue, but you’ve got no idea what it’s like, soldier, to finally be free of the Avernus after ten. Long. Years! ” She laughs triumphantly again. “And Wyll! Gods, I’ve gotta be honest—I’m reeling. He barely knows me, and still! He chose my life over his. Been a long time since someone stuck their neck out for me.”

Irileth raises her brows. “You don’t think he’ll go back on his decision? Go back to hunting you to get back into Mizora’s favor?”

“Nah. No way.” Karlach waves her hand dismissively. “I’ve spent years dealing with cambions and their ilk. I know how to identify a liar and a swindler. Wyll is a good man. When he was chasing me through Avernus, I thought he was just another sad merc. How wrong I was.”

That gives Irileth pause. They have drastically different interpretations of tonight’s revelations, it seems. Maybe—no. Amiable as Karlach is, Irileth doesn’t want her opinions to be swayed so easily. This is her weakness, she has come to realize: her dependence on her companions’ insight and information to fill in the yawning chasm of her memory. But how to avoid it, when her cratered brain is filled with so many holes?

“So… You wanna give Wyll a pep talk, or should I?” Karlach asks, picking at bits of ash that are speckled around her broken horn, caught in her hair. Then, she drops her hands, swinging her arms around. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your inner dialogue or whatever. You were staring at him for a while, though.”

Irileth shakes her head, rubbing her eyes. Hells, is she tired today. Irileth, in fact, does not want to give Wyll a pep talk. What Irileth wants is to crawl into her tent, and sleep for an age. But wounds fester and Wyll is practically bleeding shame everywhere.

“I’ll talk to Wyll,” she decides wearily. As for that pep talk? She’ll see. 

“Oh, and Karlach?” Irileth halts in her tracks, turning around.

“What’s up?”

“We’ll find you a mechanic as soon as possible,” Irileth promises her. “We’re going to fix your heart and get you home.”

Karlach’s grin is even brighter than her flames. “I appreciate you, you know that? Gods, I would smooch that little face of yours if I didn’t think I’d melt it off! First Wyll, and now you—this is the best day ever.”

Irileth smiles at Karlach’s back as she goes bounding over to where the rest of their party sits around the campfire, chatting and eating their rations. It’s only been a handful of hours, but everyone adores Karlach, Irileth included. There is such a light about Karlach, and Irileth cannot help but be drawn in by it; why anyone would try so hard to subject her to so much darkness is beyond Irileth.

“Karlach, my fiery friend!” Astarion looks up when Karlach joins the circle, and his fangs glint in the low light as he exclaims, “Settle a debate for Lae’zel and I, will you? In your opinion, what is the best way to kill a devil? I’m thinking it’s beheading.”

How adorable. The camaraderie that has sprouted up amongst her companions is so sweet it makes her sick. Irileth hurriedly turns away from the others and her smile melts from her lips, vision rimming with red.

Beheading, she muses. A quick death. Too quick. As she makes for the river, Irileth can’t help but wonder: would Karlach’s head still burn if severed from her body?

“Oh. Irileth. You startled me.” Wyll’s head snaps up when she approaches his spot on the riverbank. Illuminated by the light of the full moon, their reflections warp and ripple in the swift moving water—hers pale and ghoulish, his dark and distorted. Wyll gestures to the fallen tree behind him. “You’re welcome to sit, though I’m afraid I will make foul company tonight.”

“Foul company. Is that because you’re in a pact with a fiend?” Irileth asks bluntly as she ignores his offer and stands above him with her arms folded. She’s being unfair, she knows that. But it still smarts, the darkness she feels that she has been left in, without a guiding light.

“You don’t mince words, do you?” Wyll laughs mirthlessly, shaking his head. “I was referring to my presently poor attitude, but that too.”

Irileth is angry with him and she doesn’t quite know why. Or rather, she does know why, but not how to articulate it. Wyll doesn’t know the sadistic thoughts that churn in her vile little head. After all, Irileth has tried in vain not to let her sickness show, fearing what her companions might do to her (and what she might do to them in return) if they saw her true, darkest self. How to tell him—that she is mad at him for failing to rescue her before he even knew to try? 

Instead, she draws up something one of their companions (Gale, she thinks) said after Mizora disappeared and Wyll retreated to isolation, tail tucked between his legs in shame. “If there’s a devil at the other end of your leash, she was bound to come around sooner or later.”

Wyll only winces and nods despondently, contemplating his strange reflection before him.

“You should have mentioned your pact, Wyll,” Irileth adds, but the rebuke falls flat on her own ears. 

(She thinks of Astarion, unbidden: ‘I spent two centuries at someone else’s mercy.’ He needs someone to blame; this too, cannot also be his fault. ‘You can see why I didn’t trust you at first.’ )

They all have their reasons for keeping secrets, she supposes.

“Did it hurt?” Irileth asks when Wyll still does not rise to her bait, gesturing toward his new appearance. Sharp ridges of scar tissue-like flesh cut across his cheekbones and down his neck, looking for all the world as if someone had snatched Wyll up and carved a crude set of gills into his skin. Even his remaining good eye has been changed to something demonic: inky black scleras that encroach upon a ring of brightest red.

“When Mizora sent me through the Hells? Yes. More than anything I have ever felt before,” Wyll says bitterly, lips twisting with disgust as picks up a stone along the shore and rubs it between his fingers. “But now? The only thing my appearance harms now is my pride. A petty punishment from my petty patron.” His mouth suddenly forms a snarl. “Gods damn her!”

Irileth is silent as Wyll lobs the stone into the river, scattering his warbled reflection into tiny shimmering droplets. He whirls on her, teeth bared with disgust and pain. “Look at me! I did what was right, and Mizora punished me for it. When I made my pact, we had an agreement: I would be hunting devils and demons, traitors and hypocrites! Heartless evils—not Zariel’s victims, not innocent tieflings.”

Then, evidently exhausted by his outburst, Wyll sags forward like a puppet cut from his strings, resting his arms on his knees.

“You must think me a sham. And you would be right.” The moonlight glints off the ridges of his curled horns as Wyll hangs his head dejectedly. “It’s Mizora who grants me my power, but even that is a shadow of what it once was, now that we’ve been tadpoled. By the Helm, what have I become?”

Irileth feels a pang of sympathy (Soft-hearted whelp! She should cut that thing out—quick! Before it cleanses her foul and festering rot!) and her resolve against Wyll defrosts. He looks so miserable, like a wounded dog.

“Why did you make the pact with Mizora?” Irileth questions, because for some reason, it is important to her, to know how the Blade really came to be, and how much of him is real. 

She wants to know how badly she misunderstood him.

“Because I had to,” Wyll states firmly, clutching his hand to his chest. “I told you before—of the time I realized the Coast needed a defender. The realm is too big for one man alone; what is a lone rapier to a horde of goblins? A band of cultists? I needed to be more. Someone who could actually help.”

“I understand that, but was there truly no one else you could have bargained with?” Irileth grapples blindly for any information she knows about warlocks and pacts, though of course, she comes up nearly empty handed. “A different being. The archfey?”

“It’s not that simple, and I’m afraid I cannot do much to clarify.” Will sighs wearily although his expression remains kind, if not a touch wry. “Literally. I am forbidden by my pact to tell you the details of how it came to be. Just know that my deal with Mizora was not sought prior, nor was it expected. If there is anything to be learned from my sorry tale it is that devils only come when there are no other options, and not a moment before.”

“So, what? Mizora forced you into your deal?” She wants him to say yes.

“I only wish I could be as blameless as you think I am. But no.” Wyll unsheathes his rapier and holds it up, the sharp blade like quicksilver beneath the moon. Irileth catches his reflection in it, his new devil-marked eye. “Mizora may have forced my hand, but I still decided to make the pact. Because someone had to. Everything I have done since has been for the good of the people. And so I cannot regret it, not even now.”

Wyll turns away from his reflection, closing his eyes. “No matter what kind of horror she has made me into.”

Slowly, over the course of Wyll’s confession, Irileth’s anger deflated; now, it abandons her entirely. Hells. 

When they first met, Irileth had thought him unflappable. Unchangeable. She’d looked upon the Blade of Frontiers, saw his easy confidence and warm smile, and thought that this was a man who not only knew no shame, but also never had reason to know. She’d never considered him to be capable of holding such regret nor so much self-loathing. 

No, she hadn’t been that kind. She didn’t want him to be more than what she thought he was. 

Now, Irileth lowers herself to sit beside Wyll and lightly touches her hand to his shoulder. Wyll looks up in surprise.

“You’re still you, Wyll,” Irileth tells him, although a part of her recognizes she is convincing herself as much as him. “Horns or no, you’re still you.”

She wants to believe in the Blade of Frontiers. She wants to believe that some things can still be saved, even if she isn’t one of them.

Wyll stares at her, a bit starry eyed. Then he smiles sadly and puts his hand over hers. “I’ve let you down, Irileth. I know that.” He sighs heavily, then releases her to put his hand over his heart once more. “But I promise, I will make it up to you. You have my word.”

Irileth withdraws, a protest on her lips. She is at once flattered and… disquieted by his vow. He should not be beholden to her, no one should—it is too much pressure, to be the person someone looks to for approval and guidance.

Irileth squirms. She really had been unfair to Wyll from the start.

Fortunately—or maybe, unfortunately—Irileth is spared from responding. Something snaps in the brush behind them, and in an instant, both Wyll and Irileth are on their feet. Wyll, having already drawn his blade, steps forward, placing himself between camp and their unseen interloper.

Irileth is unarmed, but she knows—oh she knows that her hands require no daggers to reap death. (Open palm and fingers splayed, all the better to feel the sternum crack.)

“Show yourself!” Wyll demands, and (bless him, he still thinks she needs protecting) gestures for Irileth to stand back. “I’ll not suffer any sneaks or thieves tonight.”

His rapier begins to shimmer with green fiendish power and eldritch energy swarms around his clenched fist, ready to fire.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Someone—a familiar voice—shouts, and a woman stumbles forward out of the shadowed forest. A jumble of color, pale blue and purple, like the leaves of an autumncrocus flower. “It’s me!”

Alfira.

#bg3 #astarion #astarion x durge #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #baldur's gate 3 #the dark urge #durge #bg3 fic #baldur's gate

[oddlyhale]

Let me be clear, this doesn't change my support of Kdin.

If anything, this just shows that absolutely nothing good comes out of RT if you've been there for a very long time.

I've said before that I am Laotian, and yes I'm incredibly bothered by all the Asian jokes Kdin made. Sure, they're all cringey 2008 Asian jokes that are Shane Dawson-tier, but it still hurts to hear them. I'm normally unbothered by these tiny brain racist jokes, but it hurts when it comes from somebody you support and listened to their RT horror story.

I believe I'm mostly hurt by how betraying it is. Willing to go to war for her, only to be shown that she's just as bad. If I tried sitting here and said, "everything she said doesn't bother me," I'd be lying to myself.

We have to hold everyone accountable, and that most certainly includes Kdin.

The thing is, if Kdin was open and transparent with all the racism she did in her first twitlonger, showing just how bad her behaviour was and how she's finally grown and realized how bad it was, then I would've respected it. Truly.

I don't doubt that the discrimination she faced at RT opened her eyes. I just wish she was honest in the first place.

And this most certainly doesn't change the fact that RT is an abusive workplace. That is still something to fight against as much as we humanly can.

I wish this company didn't happen in the first place. Disappointments all around.

#rwde #kdin jenzen #rooster teeth #rwby #tw racism

[darkpoisonouslove]

Winx

it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

part of canon you found tedious or boring

part of canon you think is overhyped

topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

The Company of Light. I don't know what else you want me to say. I think I made that clear already. Really, I don't think I could give a different answer because they just deserve so much better.

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

The Pyros arc. I see what they were trying to do but this was not the way. Not to mention the fact that while Bloom is away the rest of the story seems to come to a grinding halt. Love to see the implication that the others are useless without Bloom take root all the way back into season 3.

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

Season 3. The amount of people saying that season 3 is the best season in terms of writing and structure is starting to get on my nerves. Season 3 has problems. Valtor starts off strong as a villain but his stage presence so to say diminishes incredibly over the season. By the end of it he's almost too pathetic to stand and his plan is just... what exactly? He steals so much magic and we don't really see him use any of it towards the goal of becoming the most powerful wizard. Like, what does being the most powerful wizard even look like? 'Cause he's getting his ass kicked by a bunch of teenagers and most of the dimension seems to go on completely unbothered by his existence. The plan of weakening Bloom through Sky goes nowhere. It's over before it can even begin and if Bloom had a single brain cell she would have figured out Sky was spelled immediately. It was so obvious that it makes me seethe every time. Episodes 8 and 9 are certainly some of the worst from the entire show. The storyline with Chimera and Cassandra loses traction halfway through and disappears for 10 solid episodes. We're not even talking about episode 20. Enchantix has problems as well. The Company of Light backstory - while literally one of my favorite things on the show - creates several plot holes and was obviously not planned from the beginning. Not to mention that they hardly get to do anything, which just doesn't make sense. The connection between Bloom and Valtor works at random only when it's convenient for the plot. The whole thing is much worse than people seem to realize. And okay, I have nostalgia for it too. But I think the fandom worships season 3 way too much.

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

Bloom.

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

The pixies/pets/selkies/fairy animals/lumens being annoying. Look, I get the problems with capitalism and wasting screen time that are in the core of this problem but, honestly, just like everything else the animal companions (umbrella term including all of these I listed) had potential. The pixies proved that in season 2 even if they were underutilized since way back then. The same could have been done with all of the other companions introduced. They just didn't care about it. But I am really sick of hearing about this when there are much worse problems with the whole show. Also, if I hear someone else saying that Kiko should be dead by now, it's on sight.

#winx club #ask #anon #opinions #winx club season 3