When My Life Is Falling Apart And I’m On The Sixth Breakdown Of The Week, I Use Mandos Wise Words Of

pov ur fighting in the archon war

I can not believe I lost my mind over 25 seconds of Pedro’s face in all 8 episodes of The Mandalorian.

The power he holds.

I love that the Witcher proves how you can have a sexist world without having a sexist story. The framework is patriarchal, it's at times blatantly sexist and at one point Yennefer even bitterly points out that, as far as the world as concerned, women are just vessels. But the narrative isn't.

Things like -- it would be so easy to turn Yennefer into a villain. She's got a classic Femme Fatale backstory, she hits every point, she's powerful and ambitious and ruthless... but she isn't evil. In the end, she doesn't put her ambition over doing the right thing. She doesn't let her recklessness get in the way of the Battle at Sodden Hill; she registers some displeasure at being put up in the tower to observe and report, but she does it, and she does it without reserve or bitterness, to the best of her ability. She went through hell to find the power that she thought would give her what she wanted, only to discover that it wasn't all it was cracked up to be -- on her own. She didn't get this revelation from a lover, or from some great tragic descent into madness and fall from grace. She came to this realization over time, without someone else's opinion.

Queen Calanthe -- jfc, Queen Calanthe is how Daenerys Targaryen should have been handled. She's a powerful woman, an unapologetically ambitious warrior woman, who falls and loses her throne and country -- exactly the same way a King would have. Her flaws -- her hubris, her selfishness, her unwillingness to let go of her granddaughter -- lead to her downfall, but they do so rationally. She doesn't go mad, or start making stupid irrational decisions, or have to be otherwise softened -- she loses the battle. She was out-maneuvered, and her support was blocked, and she just failed. She just lost. Queens -- any poweful woman, really -- always go mad and have to be put down For The Greater Good, they never get to be a Tragic Hero in the classical sense -- always Lady Macbeth, never Hamlet.

Calanthe is a fucking Greek Tragedy. She hits all the high points of an Aristotelean Tragic Hero: she evokes pity and the fear that the viewer could have made all the same mistakes; her fortunes change from prosperity to adversity, not through vice or depravity but through error of judgment; that error is made through a fundamental character flaw, something that the character could have stopped, but also couldn't because of who they are as a person.

I cannot think of another Queen treated this way in fiction.

There's one single mention of rape, and that character does imply that this in part led to her not being a princess anymore -- followed almost-immediately by the main character explicitly and pointedly calling her Princess, pointing out that it isn't what was done to her that makes her monstrous, it's what she herself does. Even so, it's simply part of her backstory, she's the one who brings it up, and there's no gruesome flashback to "evoke sympathy" or whatever bullshit excuse to show women suffering.

It's just. It's so obvious that this showrunner is a woman. The comparisons to GoT are all over the place, and obviously -- they're both dark, gritty fantasies with a heavy political aspect -- but the way this show treats its characters, and particularly its women, is just so refreshing. It's not without its flaws, and while I'll admit that there were a few moments where I was like, "did she really need to be naked here?" none of those moments were tasteless or predatory, and there was none of that gratuitous degradation of women that was such a hallmark (and turnoff) of Game of Thrones.

(There's more, too, about how the Witcher differs from GoT in how sometimes, some people are just decent and kind. Sometimes, people really are all right, and do the right thing regardless of their own self-interest. And while, yes, it would be unrealistic if everyone or even most people were that way -- it's just as unrealistic to have no one be. There's this element of human compassion in the Witcher that's far too rare, if it exists at all, in Westeros, that makes the world so much less heavy. There's plenty of darkness and bleakness, but there's also kindness and compassion to balance it out. But that's a whole other post.)

It's just. God, it is just so nice, to have a fantasy show that acknowledges sexism without itself devaluing the female characters.

HIRAETH — A Simon Riley fic.

❱ This is a longer version of the au I posted on tiktok ^^ I do apologize for the repetitive use of some words. I'm working on expanding my vocabulary! Your kind word means a lot to me, especially the readers on tiktok, you guys mean a lot to me ! ꜝ？This fic may contain heavy topics such as death, depression and melt-downs, if any of those are not to your liking. Please do so exit the fic.

the fic is unedited, grammatical/spelling errors may be found!

HIRAETH — (n.) A homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; The nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

"[name]?!"

He frantically called, dropping the weapons he held to take a good look at your figure who collapsed on the floor. 

The mission had been awfully longer than they anticipated, by the time the third hour arrived, you and Ghost already had fatal wounds.

He hardly swallowed, feeling his throat dry. 

He would rarely call you by your actual name. Ghost always abide by the rules, lover or not, he called you by your callsign through the battles you fought with together,

This one, however, happens to be an exception.

Your panting chest, bloody body, and exhausted expressions stated so. 

He knew, you knew.

He was only grateful you were with him.

The physical pain had caught up to him, he sat beside you. Taking your dainty form close to his, holding you close to him. You could hear his heartbeat,

They were oddly calm.

"Lieutenant—"

"Simon. It's your Simon."

He mumbled, taking your hands in his. Clasping them together gently,

You gasped for air, though in his arms it felt as if you could still conquer ten groups of syndicate. He held you so gently, so protectively. You swallowed,

"Simon?"

"mm?"

"I hope I loved you enough in this lifetime."

You could hear his breathy chuckle, the rasp in his voice another proof of his exhaustion.

"You're rushing, doll, we are still at the part where we reminisce about the memories yea?"

You smiled at his words, disregarding the growing pain on your abdomen. You noticed his own body, the scars and blood covered your lovers figure, You knew it was inevitable.

Without mentioning anything about your wilting bodies, you smiled up at him.

"We haven't lived enough yet." You spoke.

"Indeed,"

"We'll just have to meet in our next one and make the most of what we missed in this one."

Your smile grew, "I didn't know you believed in reincarnation, Si."

"For you, I will. This life failed us," He spoke with weak determination, "This isn't our end, [name].

 I'll find you just as I did before."

With one final kiss, he held your body tighter to his. Covering your ears as protection for the upcoming explosion, as he whispered sweet nothings, 

"If I'm as grumpy in our next life, Please find it in you to be as patient as you are to me in this one. I love you, [name], see you there alright?"

It wasn't long until a blinding explosion defeaned both of your ears, the noise was much bearable for you as he covered your ears tightly. Pressing your body close to his, Well it is the last thing he did, love you and hold you til you both accepted the inevitable fate you've been bestowed.

At his very last moments, he held you tight.

﹑

﹑

﹑

"I'll find you in our next life."

﹑

﹑

﹑

"See you there, alright?"

﹑

﹑

﹑

"Love me just as much as you did on this one."

﹑

﹑

﹑

Soon after the final explosion, Price made sure to clear the place. The eerie silence of Ghost's nonexistent callouts haunted him, along with the walkie he found which belonged to you.

He knew there was one answer, but he had a tiny speck of hope. You and Ghost never failed them, it was this life that had failed you countless times.

"Captain, it's been hours, it's just—let's try to be realistic. There's no way Lieutenant would be so quiet unless he—"

"Have trust in them. They're both strong."

As the two discussed whatever conclusions were the most possible, Gaz had found himself in a particularly secluded room. It was wrecked, obvious that the explosion did not spare it,

"Cap.. captain, you might want to see this."

With hitched breaths, the three of them stared at what the room unfolds. 

His arms wrapped around you protectively, dried blood covered the two of you as you held each other. The sight pinched the soldiers heart, how could such a tragic sight depict so much love?

The two of you laid, almost showing no signs of life. Price had to drop his equipment, staring at the sight and taking in the vulnerability and acceptance you both showed,

"They held each other." Soap mumbled,

"Tightly." Gaz whispered, staring at the grip your cold hands had on ghosts arms that wrapped around you lovingly.

Price found himself approaching the two, with a heavy heart. He checked for a sign of life—anything—holding your pulse first,

Nothing.

"They're gone."

He whispered, the silence of the room almost suffocating the room. None of them had yet broken down, though they felt as if their knees would give out. Price reached for Ghost's after checking yours,

Eyes widening as he frantically double checked Ghost,

"There's—He's still breathing."

﹑

By the time evac had arrived, Price had known it was far too late to save both. He knew this was now their reality. As he sat outside the room where Ghost lay unconscious, completely unaware of the world he’ll wake up to, unaware that he’d live to see that his lover is now gone.

Price felt his stiff heart ache as the thought of them accepting the inevitable death whilst in the arms of each other. How could the two of you receive such a cruel end? Not only were you separated, you had passed thinking you remained in the arms of your love,

He also knew you would hold no grudge if you find out that Ghost had survived the tragic explosion, Price could imagine the gentle smile on your lips while saying ‘I know he will, he’s always been tough.’

He closed his eyes shut, holding his head as he rested his arms on his weak knees, “how the hell am i supposed to tell him.” standing up to return to his station, looking at the window to see Ghost’s resting figure.

As days went by, Price had to argue with people to push further the funeral. It can’t happen yet, not without ghosts. He knew he could only delay it for a few more days. He had faith in his comrade, but at the same time that hope easily withers as days pass them by like a blur.

“Captain if we don’t proceed with the funeral, [name]’s body, it’ll—”

“We have to wait for him.” he interjected sternly, glaring at the soldier, “we have to.”

He knew his logic had given out in favour of his emotions, he can't bring himself to betray simon. Not when he's already been through, he'd lost the person he cared for the most, He just can't do this to him.

“Captain the body, they're doing everything they can to help preserve [name]. But if this keeps on, the body will decay completely! Do you think the lieutenant would be delighted to see the person he loves rotting? He wouldn't—I'm sorry captain. This needs to be done, with or without him.”

Price grimaced, the corner of his eyes wrinkling as he closed his eyes shut. He pinched the bridge of his nose, before nodding with a heavy heart.

“Very well.”

“Proceed with the funeral.”

﹑

“Si, have I told you how much I love your eyes?”

“‘Mm? Yeah, all the time, doll.”

You chuckled, ruffling his hair. You loved the way his eyes squint whenever he’d smile, even the slightest smile he shows, you loved it every single time.

“I love looking at them, they look really pretty.”

“You think so?” He asks, caressing your face.

“I know so. I want them to be the last things I admire before I pass away.”

His eyes weakly fluttered open, his breaths shallow but much more stable than. He’d woken up certain that he’ll turn to see your peaceful face, away from the wars, away from the scars of the battles you both conquered, he knew and was certain he’ll turn to his side to see you peacefully resting with him after the turmoil you've both overcome, as proven of the light that blinded him when his eyes fluttered open,

As soon as his eyes adjusted to the brightness, he sat up, with a relieved sigh. Turning to his side, prepared to caress your soft skin, 

His breath hitched.

You weren't there.

You weren't anywhere near his proximity, where are you? He finds himself sitting on an empty hospital bed with nothing but his dumbfounded state. He looked around, observing the place with a tired frown, he felt rage. Why is a dextrose connected to him? That was where your hand rested before the explosion killed the both of you,

..right?

“[name]?”

He whispered, standing up, ignoring the piercing pain he felt all over his body. Pulling the dextrose and removing it from his arm roughly, 

Why is he breathing? Why is he alive?

“Hell, what is this?”

No. no no no no no no no.

He stormed out of the room, uncaring about the strange looks thrown towards him as he opened each and every room of the hospital. Panic surging through his body, he won't accept it, he won't. You've gotta be inside one of these god forsaken rooms,

Shocked screams and gasps were heard by every door he opened, abruptly interrupting the patients as he searched for those particular eyes. That particular person he needs. He was determined, in one of these rooms you would be laying down on the bed, resting, waiting for him.

If he’d survived, you surely did too.

He won't live otherwise, not without you. And so he continued barging inside rooms, panting and grumbling to himself everytime a different pair of eyes looks at him in terror, they weren't your eyes, you wouldn't have looked at him with a petrified expression, you would look at him with a smile,

Like you always do.

You open your arms and wait for him to close the distance and embrace you, pressing your bodies tightly against each other like he did the night of the explosion.

“Lieutenant!”

Price’s voice rang through the silent hallways, with workers of the hospital frantically following the two of them, “what are you doing simon—”

“Where are they?”

“Where is [name]?!”

He angrily snapped, voice flowing with venom as he started to feel himself fall into a hysteria.

“Where’s my [name], john?” he repeats, this time weaker. Desperate for answers, desperate for your whereabouts, desperate for you.

“Simon, let's calm down. Let's go back to the room and talk.” Price tried to calm him, slowly making his way towards his friend, aiming to take him back and avoid him from causing another scene.

“No.” he shakes his head in disbelief, tears brimming on the verge of falling, “tell me where they are.”

Price felt his heart sunk, he'd never seen the hard-headed ghost look so vulnerable and desperate. “Simon, come on let's go.”

“Price. Where's my [name]?”

﹑

“They're gone.”

Price had managed to pull the hysteric Simon back into his room, sat him down on the bed despite his protest and cries. The sight crushed price’s heart,

“No.” ghost protests, “they're most certainly not.”

Price looked down, sitting himself down as well. Unable to take the lump suffocating on his throat. Ghost’s voice destroyed him, and he bet it would crush your soul to see your lover ask so desperately for you.

“When evac came, [name]’s already dead. It was too late, Simon, I'm sorry.”

“Then why!?”

Price looked up at Simon's exclamation, “why the hell did you think i wished to live if it was too late for [name]?!”

“Why did you have to save me, price?” he weakly stood up, looking down at price as tears fell down his eyes, they were tears of rage and grief—tears that he had rarely shown anyone but you.

“Saving me knowing I'll wake up without my [name], what did you— what did the lot of you think? Now tell me,

Tell me what ill do, tell me price, what the fuck should i do?”

He cried, weeping his unfeeling heart out. He cant feel anything, none worth mentioning—the hurt of losing you plagued his heart,

“I can't, price, I can't do this.”

“Send me out there, make me fight those syndicates, have me tortured for months but not this—not this, i beg you. Don't make me live without [name], don't do this to me.”

Price felt his own tears pool his eyes, he couldn't take it. Not when ghost stared at him with contempt and helplessness.

“Take me back to [name].”

“Please.”

Without you, there was nothing else left for him. Without you he wouldn't wake up looking forward to meeting those eyes that once looked at him with adoration. Without you he wouldn't feel that extraordinary love you had saved only for him. Without you he won't feel, without you he is nothing at all.

Nothing but a breathing piece of sorrow revived to a body which was once happy with you.

Without you he's simply nothing.

“Eleanor was right. She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn’t supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something.” — Rainbow Rowell (Eleanor & Park)

When you try to study in an art school, you tend to lose confidence, you tend to be lazy, Always doubting your abilities, always running out of creative juice, having an artist block, always doing art for the sake of not-failing your course and not for your own happiness, having this never ending mantra-on your head saying “you will never be good enough”, having a very awkward eye-to-eye situation with a paper and a pen in your hand, not knowing what to even draw. 

So in order for me to overcome my Artist Block (kuno). I had this Idea for a new project, Whenever I would stumble upon an excerpt or perhaps a quote from a book I’m currently reading, or A very striking line from a movie or a tv series, I would try to express it through a creative illustration and try to write a little something about it. 

“what are you reading?”

“its a…online book.”

Thanks to the girls who write fanfiction for making me happy and restoring my faith in the humanity. ❤️

credits for the pic: ghostsgirlie

Yup definitely gonna rise from my writing hiatus. Will definitely start writing just gonna start brainstorming with my feelings. The hell cod mw3?!

Will write some fanfictions (x reader too) just not smut I don't know how lol.

Me if Price dies :

Me if Gaz dies :

Me if Ghost dies :

Me if Soap dies :

omg congrats for 5k doll! i wanted to slide in and see if i could have a protective!bf Gaz written since my baby is so underappreciated??? i saw this tweet about the scene in mw where gaz's disabling a bomb and is unable to and price throws the guy off the balcony, but this time the bomb in strapped to his love and he's and he's struggling and sees price out of the corner of his eye and remembers what happens last time and panicks and goes all 'you won't do that to her'. just a thought, love all your work!

—Don't Look At Her

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [The bomb starts ticking down, rapidly firing to zero. Gaz won't let Price near you. Not after he'd remembered the Captain's actions when they'd first met.] ❞

"Gaz," your voice wavers, watching the rapidly working man and seeing his darting eyes—lit with panicked fervor. He doesn't answer, so you speak again. "Gaz!"

"No!" He barks, brown eyes instantly meeting yours. Lips pull in a right frown; there's a glint in his gaze that you'd never seen before—not in the many years you'd known him. Kyle's firm hands don't leave the wiring attached to your chest. The vest.

The bomb.

"No, Love," he grates out, immediately getting back to work as you try to keep your tears at bay, body jerking back and forth as your boyfriend pulls at the straps and bits. "Don't even say anything. You're going to fucking fine, you hear? It's going to be okay."

It was the product of bad intel, really. You'd been sent in without the proper know-how, leading to a scuffle where the butt of a gun had been slammed into your temple. When your eyes opened again, it was already too late.

Kneeling in the middle of a large office building, the glass of the windows shattered behind you, and the wind whips the back of your skull aggressively, you stare down at Gaz. Trying to form words on a tongue that won't cooperate.

"You need to run," you whisper out, resigning yourself as the rapid beeping increases. Your heart moves so fast you can't feel the skin of your chest anymore. "Kyle," pleading, you watch his jaw clench something fierce. "Listen to me—!"

"I'm not leaving you!" A sharp snap of a metal piece hits your ears, the piece of the vest clattering to the ground in a violent display of desperation. Gaz glances back up at you stubbornly; as if uncaring about the impending incineration only minutes away. "So you stop bloody talking like that, yeah? I'm not just giving up!"

The sides of your eyes dribble out rabid tears, lungs a mess of air and inhales that can't even be considered breathing anymore by how wheezy they sound.

How would it feel? Exploding into a patchwork of blood and fire—instantaneous, sure, but feeling Kyle's heat and his puffs of air; his fear, you can't imagine him dying like that. Not him.

"Look at me," Gaz pants, fingers pulling at cords in search of the one he needed to cut—unable to pinpoint it through the hack-job that had been done to your vest.

There was every color under the sun except fucking yellow. His teeth clench so tight they hurt his jaw, but he sends you quick glances as you shakily do as he says.

Brown eyes soften, and while the both of your hands shake, for a second there's a relief at the eye-contact. "Repeat it, Love."

You lick your lips and stammer, "y-you're not leaving."

Lips press firmly into yours, and you clench your eyes tight at the sensation, tiny sob breaking the contact.

"That's right." Gaz growls. "Not on my life."

Rapid footsteps race into the room, but before the Sergeant can reach for his weapon, the familiar call from the Captain echoes out.

"Friendly!" It's as if Gaz doesn't even register, still digging and fearfully looking at the timer.

50 seconds. 49. 48. 47...

"Sergeant," Price jogs over. You can barely find the inner strength to look up at him. "Sitrep."

Blue eyes dart from the vest to you and the Captain's serious face goes grim. His expression flashes with the inner workings of his mind, eyes narrowing and a grunt stuck under his lips.

"I have it," Gaz speaks quickly, and the words strike you as odd, though you don't comment. Price slid him a sharp look.

"Gaz—"

"Don't even look at her." Snarling like an animal, brown orbs are volatile enough to rend stone in two as they meet the older man's. You and John are rendered speechless, sharing a swift glance in shock like teenagers hearing their parents swear for the first time.

Kyle's eyes are wild, sweat slicking his brow. "Come fucking on!" He yells and your body is snapped forward as Gaz pries on the straps, having to steady yourself on the man's shoulders for support. Every muscle in his body is taunt; shaking with force.

Perhaps it was the memory that invaded his brain like a parasite that had made him snap at his superior like that—a stab to his fine tissue that digs all the way down his rail-straight spine.

Piccadilly Circus. Tanto building. Hostage with an explosive vest.

Kyle's fingers bleed as they peel back rough velcro, having ripped off his gloves to be nearer to you.

It all flashes past his mind in horrible increments, the past, but instead of a man—the hostage is you. And Price was burning his neck with a harsh stare once more.

He's going to throw her out the window, Kyle panics and you watch with the deadly realization of the situation. No. No, I won't let him. Not her.

"Garrick," Price says, voice deep. But he doesn't move. "You need to get your head back on."

"I've got it screwed on just right, Captain." Gaz grunts. "Trust me."

12 seconds. 11. 10. 9...

You stare at Gaz and memorize the make of his handsome face—the dates and the late nights speaking about the future sticking to your skin like leeches; sucking away every instance of love and happiness. His laugh. His brown eyes.

His smile.

Oh, you want to see your Love smile.

"Sergeant!" Price yells, moving forward to grapple onto Kyle's shoulder. "It's going off!"

Your boyfriend rips out of his hold, fists clenched and screaming.

"Get the fuck off of me! I can save her!" Your back hits the ground with a slap and a ragged gasp from your lips, the Brit straddling your hips in a desperate play to deactivate the bomb.

"Kyle," you look up at him, pleading. "You have to take cover, it's...it's okay. I love you, I need you to know that—"

"Bloody shut," eyes spark, locking on the bright color under the front of the vest. Gaz snaps a hand under the material and rips at it in a ruthless wrench of his arm. 2 seconds. There's a deafening snap of wire. "Up!"

The beeping stops and the world stills.

Your wide eyes can't stop crying as you stare up into brown eyes with astonishment; struggling to breathe. You can't tell if the building is vibrating or only you, but nothing seems to be able to focus as a wave crashes down on you; adrenaline still striking you.

Everything rings inside of your ears, pounding in your head.

Hands grasp the base of your jaw and lips descend to yours, tears slapping your skin from above in a wave of feral agony. Gaz stifles his sob on your mouth as you shake wildly, panting over your flesh.

Price gives off a large sigh from behind, standing straighter and turning his head.

Gaz's forehead connects with yours, but there are no words to be said—just the silent gazing and lingering fear of death. He won't let go of your cheeks, and, quivering, you go to grasp tightly at the sides of his arms.

With a shuddering breath, he closes his eyes and sags into you.

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Reasons Why The Mandalorian Is A Wonderful Show You Should Watch Or Rewatch Right Now:

Baby Yoda. Duh.

The other main character is a Soft Single Father who truly wants to do the right thing.

We cannot see him because he is covered head to toe, therefore his attractiveness is based on the non-toxic masculinity he exudes and not solely because of what he looks like.

He doesn’t talk much but it’s mostly because of isolation and being a reserved introvert and not because he wants to be a broody jerk.

He meets a woman who almost bests him in hand-to-hand combat and he immediately accepts her as his equal and gives her his respect.

She is not sexualized and is a badass who can hold her own while still being caring and loyal. She is a physically strong soldier who has depth and personality.

They interact like true friends, gently teasing and watching out for each other.

There are no stressful stupid love triangles or forced unnecessary romance.

Excellent character development that is neither rushed nor unbelievable.

The plots don’t have to be complex to be GOOD

Just this space cowboy and his little green kid roamin’ the galaxy, huntin’ bad guys and makin’ new friends.

Adventure, Adoption, and Ass-Kicking. The absolute best. This is everything I’ve ever wanted.