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belle-keys · 4 years ago

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I Love Matthew Fairchild aka Incoherent Thoughts about Chain of Iron (2021) by Cassandra Clare

I made one of these rant-rave reviews for SJM's book so check it out if you want, no pressure tho lmao.

Aight so I finished Chain of Iron last night and OMG I HAVE TO YELL like I loved it sooo much like yooo, I have a lot to say. I know the book is new so... beware for spoilers plebs.

Also context: I been reading the Shadowhunter books since I was 12 and I'm 19 now *insert dead emoji face* so yeah, I'm just so happy rn with where the Chronicles have come and the fact that they’re still ongoing *insert uwu face*. I remember when in like 2014-2015 or something when Cassandra Clare teased that Will and Tessa's kids' generation was gonna get a trilogy set in Edwardian London, loosely based on Great Expectations, and holy hell? I think that was perhaps one of the best days of my life considering how much I adore The Infernal Devices (that trilogy really changed the way I see YA literature... don't ask cus I won't shut up about it) (also yes I read TMI and loved it too but there's a “generation gap” between TMI and the other Shadowhunter books stylistically so don't ask me about that either cus I also won't shut up).

Anyway, shoo from here if you want a critical essay on Chain of Iron. I'm not providing that, this is just me raving here for the fun.

Listen... I want the bulk of this to just be two main things: The Matthew Situation, and then all the literary and judeo-christian meta aspects of it.

BUT I ALSO NEED TO TALK ABOUT EVERYTHING ELSE SO FRICK LET'S JUST START WITH THE OBVIOUS SHIT LIKE THE PLOT AND WHATEVER

Okay, the plot and writing and shit, let's get that out of the way:

The WHOLE Jack-the-Ripper-esque ambiance was just sooooo good man wow like I did not expect the book to take this cold turn but it worked so well. There was such a contrast between Jamie and Cordelia's warm little house and then the cold winter and the stabbings and shit and it felt like a nice little callback to the actual Ripper phenomenon that preceded them and a nod to the Whitechapel Fiend story from Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy.

Bitch OFC that whole thing with Wayland was a set-up like nawww that was too easy to spot and I get why Cordelia feels like shit about it.

Dawg Lucie was just the Among Us imposter here in that my girl was just venting and sneaking around with dead people and I was like nooooo girl run, don't deal with Fade this is a set-up THINK ABOUT JULES LUCIE THAT'S LIKE YO GREAT-GRANDSON *sobs* but yeah anyway my girl has death powers she gonna kill some bitches next book.

You see that confrontation between Lilith and Belial? MASTERPIECE DIALOGUE like this was the point within which I was just like "yo is this the book of Genesis or a YA Fantasy novel" like when Lilith said "I may have been cast out but I did not fall" like??????????????????? I YELLED she did not have to END Belial like that. What a bad bitch.

More on Lilith and Belial... "You, who brought nations into darkness? Shall I finally be able to tell the infernal realms you have gone mad, lost even the image of the Creator." HAHAHHAHAHA SHE SAID "YO BELIAL GO GET SOME THERAPY AND GET OFF MY ASS" LIKE??????

Ughhhh yasss Clare has improved writing diverse characters in this book compared to in The Dark Artifices in my opinion... I'm not gonna expand on it cus ain't nobody got time for that but like, I enjoyed how she wove Persian poetry and tales into the story and the way in which she writes Cordelia and Alistair. They're not caricatures of Persian people but rather multi-faceted beings who also happen to be Persian and I appreciate that. Also, Alistair and Thomas and Anna and Ariadne were just so fun and interesting to read as coupbles but also as individuals. She really higlighted diversity in a very natural manner. All I need is a hijabi character and I’ll die a happy woman lmao.

The level of META man like the references to Classics and art (I swear, she might have compared Matthew to angels out of Caravaggio AND Rosetti AND Boticelli paintings and I Am Living For It) and just all the quotes from holy books and shit omg I love it here like you really feel catapulted into the time period, she draws reference to external art and philosophy so well and I feel like she upped the notch on it in this book (didn’t know that was possible but it was the prose is BEAUTIFUL, archaic, but not pretentiously so). No, like the characters live in their OWN worlds of literature and art and history in the way we are living in THEIRS. They quote Wilde and Milton while we'll quote Clare. It's awesome.

This is an unusually structuralist take even from me but: I like the way the milieu social of the book, i.e., the high society Edwardian circles and their values, have a direct influence on the plot. James and Cordelia got married because society’s values essentially forced them to, not a demon. Cordelia abandons Jamie at the end of Iron because her shame as a woman in society and fear for her reputation made her, not a demon. Thomas and Alistair can't be together solely because of how Alistair tarnished the reputation of the Fairchilds and Lightwoods by using the horror of infidelity against them. Issues relating to marriage, gender roles, etc, stemming DIRECTLY from the time period rule the sequence of events to the same degree as the epic fantasy aspects (demons, Princes of Hell, the lore itself) do and I LOVE that dear God above.

OKAY THE GOOD SHIT LET US TALK ABOUT CHARACTERS AND SHIPS (N.B. but imma discuss Matthew and the Fairstairs situation separately below this portion):

Alistair's redemption arc: No, cus Alistair's redemption arc is honestly amazing. He really did change and it's not like his betterment as a person was linked to any one heroic deed but rather he simply decided he wanted to be better especially for his family and he decided to become a proper protective son, a caring brother, and an amiable friend. He fully owned up to his Malfoy tendencies and apologized without expecting forgiveness. He shows how he cares in the little ways and omg it's so sweet and tender. I really do want him to love himself now and be embraced by Matthew especially and the rest of the Thieves.

Dawg Lucie and Jesse are so funny to me like it's so hilarious how this girl fell in love with a whole ass ghost that no one else knows about like HHAHA. Are Lucie and Jesse my ult ship ever? Nah, but it's nothing to do with Clare, it's just that their relationship happened pretty quick and feels quite like something epicly romantic that Lucie herself would write. I just like slow burn and friends-to-lovers the most from Clare. To be honest part of me just wanted Lucie to not have a romantic arc all together but like, it's all good, I'm not complaining.

Okay Grace- like yooooooooooo I never hated her yunno. She has been abused and isolated all her life. It's not that she is a bad person, but rather that she does not know what being a person even entails. Can't even say she's a “doll” of a person cus she's never even been pampered like one by her family. I really started understanding her motivations since when they gave us her half-childhood with Jesse. I want better for her but cmon can she REALLY be saved???

GRACE X CHRISTOPHER *pretends to be shocked*... Okay, sometime in the middle of the Dark Artifices series some big brain put together a very thorough family tree of the families and like, it clearly showed that Grace and Christopher got married so like, lmfaooooo, I knew this was coming one way or another, but the journey to this ship is more important than the destination. Like in a way Christopher is such a cute baby lamb that it makes sense he'd end up being immune to her Grace-ness when he's just a cute little Einstein boiii. Like this is just so funny to me cus he's so oblivious to social conventions while she makes the milieu social her entire life so OFC it's gonna work. Like, this is such a worlds-colliding trope like just Give It To Me.

James and Grace - aw mannn Jamie just had me fricking wanting to hit a wall every two seconds cus like yooooooo every single time I think he and Cordelia are gonna stop being emotionally-constipated spouses, Jamie says some kinda shit like "omg me and Daisy are just friends uwu" like DO I NEED TO HIT YOU?????????? See I can't blame him for not slamming the door on Grace's face even tho he totes should- Jamie is so cerebral and kind that even if Grace wasn't using the enchantment on him, I think he would always be soft for her even if it isn't in a romantic way. There's just so much miscommunication cus like he said "Thank God" when she broke off the engagement with Charles and lowkey embraced her but it also wasn't his fault cus it wasn't even romantic BUT OFC IT LOOKED HORRIBLE TO CORDELIA like James literally never told the woman at least once that he loved her so OFC she thought she was back to square one with him dear God above what a mess. Not his fault, but she DID set down one rule for him: don’t cheat with Grace. And yeah even tho he hasn’t properly cheated, it must FEEL horrible to her cus she’s just been enduring the pain of their unrequeted love for so long :((

See imma just say it but if Cordelia thought that James didn't love Grace then she def would have confessed to him about her feelings right but like James, on the other hand, was delaying his own romantic confession cus he was BEING EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED and I can't even say the bracelet was solely to blame cus like my boi was just being so difficult omg I believe he should be lightly spanked by his three parents aka Will, Tessa and Jem *cries*.

Cordelia is such a MOM like she's so mature and stable and her self-preservation instinct? OFF THE CHARTS I love this woman like James definitely treated her well as a hubby but like I JUST WANTED HER TO HAVE CLOSURE ABOUT SOMETHING and boy oh boy she did get that closure she got it good but not from the person she expected in the LEAST *hehe* *pelican screeching*... like Lucie was being sus with the whole ghost business and James was being just, quite a case, dealing with Grace and Belial right and I don't blame them at all for their secrecy and shit but her FATHER DIED and her friends were hiding a lot from her so in a way she turned to Alistair for help but he could only do so much cus of his own pain (she couldn't even talk to her mom cus she's pregnant and she doesn't wanna stress her right) and then there was this emotional block between her and Jamie, Lucie was often absent and conspiring with the dead... the last person remaining was HIM (imma discuss this soon), but yeah my heart just went OUT to her cus she's tryna save herself and her family and she just doesn't know what to do. That's why I love the way her mom told her to stop holding herself back for others and live her own life. Like Cordelia grew on me so much cus in Gold she undoubtedly was a strange Elizabeth Bennet-wallflower hybrid and I... do not usually get attached to wallflowers but in Iron I feel like I finally understood that she was just tryna be unproblematic and self-preserving all along and nottt put her family and friends in a tough situation.... she reminds me of my mom personality-wise so yeah I’m totally rooting for her now that her *situation* in the past seems clearer.

Anna, Thomas and Matthew are such a SQUAD lmfaooooo like united in their gayness they'd be so unstoppable.

Will and Tessa are the most in-love of all the in-loves in this story and I respect that so much.

I lost a year to my life every time the romance between James and Cordelia got cockblocked. Like they were MARRIED and I thought they were gonna at least sleep next to each other at least once BUT NO James couldn't take a hint omg I'm actually gonna eat my fist and sob (but in retrospect, I think this serves a bigger purpose in terms of the narrative structure i.e. the interruption of all the spicy James and Cordelia action serves a bigger purpose which I think brings me to my next section, *exhale*)

Welcome to the Matthew Fairchild Enthusiast Club (this section is me talking out loud; it makes no sense):

bitch.

LISTEN TO ME LISTEN WELL I LOVE THIS BOY SO MUCH IMMA SCREAM I REALLY AM GONNA SCREAM MY FIST IS LITERALLY IN MY MOUTH *BACKFLIPS OFF THE ROOF WITH LANA DEL REY PLAYING*

Okay like where to BEGIN I think the Shadowhunter boy who I'm most attracted to is Julian while the one I love the most is Will but I think I see myself in Matthew the most. Like ever since that first story where the Thieves all met at the Academy then got expelled, I think that I just KNEW Matthew was destined to be epic. Plus the whole Wilde obsession? I’m no libertine myself but I just love his chaos and passion for life.

NO CUS HE'S SO WITTY AND SWEET AND EPIC AND YET SO SECRETIVE AND DEAR GOD ABOVE AHHHHH WILL HE SURPASS JULIAN FOR ME??? Ion even know but this is just sodjsgdwsdygyegydgef

Hear me out but I said after finishing Gold last March that I wanted this book to be Matthew's healing arc right so halfway into the book when I realized that we weren't getting all that good healing arcing I was confused just cus I thought it seemed natural to address all of his alcohol issues and sadness by now. LITTLE DID I KNOW CASSIE WAS SETTING UP A WHOLE OTHER ARC WITH HIM THAT I WOULD HAVE NEVER GUESSED WTH.

At first I thought Matthew didn't have feelings for anyone at all, and if he DID develop feelings unexpectedly, I fricking thought that maybe he's catching feelings for James, if anyone??? I mean, I did have some suspicions about Matthew from the get-go: like he's so secretive and as readers we think we know everything there is to know about him since we were all privy to the truth potion incident in his short story right BUT NO I GOT PLAYED AND I DESERVE IT SO BADDDDDD.

Listen I hadn't shipped him and Cordelia simply because I never thought it in the realm of possibility but it MAKES SENSE as a ship... think about it: he never says what he feels, he flirts with her like he does with EVERYONE, he is kind to her in the way he is with EVERYONE. Really, Matthew is shippable with everyone, doesn’t matter if they’re taken cus that’s just what his Matthewnes allows for ya feel. There is such a beautiful irony that CORDELIA herself did not see this coming. Even the little teasers and hints in Gold have only NOW started making sense to me likejhss. I just felt like the hints in book 1 did not indicate to me that Matthew really harbored real romantic feelings for Daisy. I thought he was upset that James and Cordelia were being fakes, not a developing CRUSH on the woman fgs.

Not to mention that you usually sense a ship building when the emotional connection or sexual tension between the characters is made clearer but to me their FRIENDSHIP grew right but it didn’t feel like Cordelia was thought that she liked him or he liked her so that means me and Cordelia are clowns *together* 😤

Okay I was lowkey having SUSPICIONS but I immediately shut them down right... like firstly when he took her to the White Horse in his car and she went OFF and OFF and off about how she felt free for the first time? I thought Cassie was just tryna develop Cordelia's self-liberation arc through Matthew there. Heck, I didn't even think ANYTHING of it when Matthew confession to Cordelia about the "truth potion" incident at all cus I was like they're FRIENDS??? BUT now it's adding up now...

See when they were at the inn place and he was telling her that she doesn't in the least seem like a 100 year-old married woman? I was like hmmmm he's so sweet but why did Cassie phrase it like that like??? When Cordelia later reiterated that she thought Matthew's flirting was “meaningless”?? I was like hmmm kinda SUS tho. And then when he and James had their fight over the way Jamie kissed Grace like again I thought he was just like? ion know? mad at James for it but I didn't think he was in LOVE with Cordelia??? So I immediately put aside my slight suspicions. The probability that he had a crush on James at that point seemed more likely to me.

BUT THEN it started hitting me that every time Matthew drank, even before he explained his issue with the truth potion, that Cordelia would note it, she would worry about him, she would think of her father which seemed so poetic to me, history repeating itself and all that but this time you can FIX it??? Yeah, but again I didn't think the L WORD would be involved man???

Now imma sound like a delulu shipper here but it just makes sense they would develop feelings logically- reason being that it definitely is possible based on the way Cassie set up the story, like there's a combination of little “friend things” that can turn this into a proper ship: Matthew rescues Cordelia in the ballroom when Grace captures James' attention in Gold. Cordelia sees her father in Matthew all the time but knows now she has a chance to be there for him in the way she couldn't have been there for Elias (classic “history repeats itself” trope, she doesn't want Matthew drinking in Paris like dhshghdfhdhch). Cordelia tastes freedom for the first time when driving with Matthew. Matthew caught James and Cordelia making out in the room and was pissed but not even HE properly knew why then??? Umm, when she thinks James is forreal cheating with Grace on her she subconsciously goes to Matthew??? I also found it funny just how every intimate marital moment between her and James got interrupted somehow. Like, it's as if the narrative is just a living force REFUSING to let James and Cordelia as a ship be consecrated. Heck, every time Matthew is scantily clothed Cordelia notes it. LITTLE CRUMBS I TELL YOU LITTLE CRUMBS.

I tell you when Cordelia showed up to Matthew's flat I thought they were gonna f*ck as friends but I got SOMETHING EVEN BETTER SOMEHOW

THEY ARE GOING TO PARIS LA BELLE EPOQUE PARIS THE PARIS OF DREAMS AND ART LIKE??? FRICKKKKK I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING AT ALLLL MAN? I deadass thought the story would be restrained to the UK but like it MAKES SENSE the trope subversion MAKES SENSE.

“In Paris, with you, I will not need to forget.” SHITTRGEGGGDG

BUT CORDELIA LOVES JAMES TOO LIKE I CAN'T DENY THAT... where are we GOING with this like Matthew wouldn't lie about his feelings and yet Cassie wouldn't give us Matthew and Cordelia crumbs to only end it in the next book immediately for her to just ditch him for James. I mean she was clearly holding back on fleshing out James and Cordelia as a ship for this but to WHAT END??? Daisy feels wild and free with Matthew and she feels warm at home warm with James. I can’t advocate for the sinking of ANY ship here.

Imma say what we're all thinking: Is she gonna give us a Will x Jem x Tessa type situation where Cordelia gets both of them cus I'm not strong enough for this but I also think it'd be really funny if James gets a surprise bi awakening in the next books and then we get POLY even tho this would never happen, it’s actually impossible, because of the whole parabatai thing.

Listen I ship Cordelia and Matthew much more than Cordelia and James, not that I dislike James in any way tho. It's just: Matthew is so unrestrained and she's so composed. They seem like an unlikely pair so it makes sense that they hit harder for me. James and Cordelia have such similar personalities but I ALSO don't ship James with Grace at all so like?? Poly would be... ideal... but it can’t happen especially cus they are fricking parabatai... a Will-Jem-Tessa situation seems more likely but mannnn ion know what to expect. I just want FAIRSTAIRS to have their moment in Paris. I mean James and Matthew clearly don't abhor each other for this.

Take everything I say with several grains of salt, take everything I say with the whole Dead Sea actually, cus I damn well know that Matthew is so flirty and whatnot that I’d have shipped him with anyone in their little circle but now that she set him up with Cordelia it all feels so right?? I have wanted this man in a good relationship since he walked onto the page in Nothing But Shadows so-

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I can't believe Cassia duped me like this omg, Matthew is gonna have his healing arc in Paris with Cordelia by his side like- THIS IS ALL I HAVE WANTED AND SO MUCH MORE. Question to yall btw: are you all as surpised at Fairstairs as me or did yall see it coming all along like smart people? Am I a lone clown? 🥺

BRUH okay criticisms of CC?:

Lmfao a part of me feels like I GOTTA say something bad about CC or the book but honestly I have no objective complaints about it as of now. Am I saying that it’s the PEAK of Young Adult literature and Urban Fantasy? I mean, I make no such claims tbh. I’m not here to be critical when I read as a hobby and when CC’s writing makes me happy regardless of how flawed some people see it.

Okay what next?

So like I’m excited for the adult high fantasy she’s releasing in the fall and whatever other works she might be releasing outside of Chain of Gold within the Chronicles.

As for TLH itself? Man I’m just VIBING like I suspect I will reread Chain of Iron soon and maybe one of the anthologies just because I am happy that this series actually happened after me waiting like 6 years for it when it was just a concept: a Dickensian retelling filled with poetry and culture and history and the conventions I so loved in TID at age 12. This is all I been wanting tbh. I’m just enjoying watching this series come to fruition for it to inspire and transform me in some way. I feel like in a way my coming-of-age aligns with that of these specific characters yet I ALSO feel like I raised Jamie since infancy. Wack.

MATTHEW AND CORDELIA IN FRANCE LA BELLE EPOQUE TO BE EXACT IMMA CRY I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING AND AHHHHHH. ALSO WILL AND JAMIE GOING TO CORNWALL TO GET LUCIE AND MAYBE BOND I LOVE WILL. HE WAS ONE OF MY DILF AWAKENINGS AT AGE 12 AND NOW HE’S HERE AGAIN IMMA CRY. I WANNA SEE MATTHEW GET HAPPY. AHHH.

Ending with a fun quote: “In the wise words of someone or other, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Maurice.” 😉

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irrlicht-writes · 4 years ago

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the path we choose to walk on pt.4

So this is it. Part 4, everyone. The last part! We made it to the end! Wooo! (now I have to focus on my bang again) Thank you for being with me. I hope you enjoyed the ride. Tell me what you thought! Tell me what you liked! Tell me what you hated! (be nice though) @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @cass-said-i-love-you @professorerudite @insertdeeplyrics anyone else want on the tag list?

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Ao3

Part 4: let the good times roll

Sam and Eileen gift a painting set to Castiel one day. Dean isn’t sure why but they say it’s because he saved their baby. Later Cas admits to Dean that he barely remembers what happened.

As it turns out, Castiel sees the world vastly different than Dean. Dean’s no art critic, nor could he detect a masterpiece in the making but to him, Cas’ pieces feel alive. There is a certain aspect to them.

Castiel paints mostly with his fingers and the faces of the people are wonky at best but still, they stare right into Dean’s heart.

“They are dead,” Cas says, “but with this, they’re alive. There was a world people cannot understand today. You have changed so much in so little time and yet it remains – you will always look at the world with wonder in your eyes.”

Charlie helps them sell Cas’ art online. They sell somewhat well and Dean thinks that Cas is happy that he gets to help. Cas had said that he would’ve like to take a real job, but Dean shut him down very quickly.

Nobody would want to hire Cas – first, Cas didn’t even properly exist. And second; there would be too many days where Cas would have to stay at home. Any employer would only allow so many sick days and Dean is afraid of sending Cas to a therapist.

Even though he knows that they all probably need one, how would you even start explaining?

“Yeah, roughly 15 years ago I set off with my brother to find our dad and now our son turned into God. Oh and also we picked up this literal angel as our best friend and all of us – our son concluded who by the way was fathered by Lucifer – have died several times and then we just kind of went going.”

Yeah. No.

Not to mention all the additional bullshit Castiel would have to unpack. Dean’s been in a mental constitution once; he doesn’t really have to go there again. And he certainly doesn’t want Cas to go there – also, again.

The bees are still on Dean’s mind. He doesn’t need a repeat of that.

And anyway, the paintings are selling. And in time, they might even be able to ask for more money. Dean doesn’t really hold out hope but who knows?

Two years after Maria is born, Sam and Eileen get married. Dean knows that they’ve been discussing marriage for a long time and have never been able to decide whether it was for them or not. But then Eileen proposed and here they are.

“She asked me to accompany her with the ring shopping. I think she just wanted to use me for my fingers,” Cas says to Dean and Dean smirks.

“Do you think Jack’ll show up?”

“I don’t know. I’ve told him; and I’m sure he knows but whether or not he’ll actually show up... it would be good to see him again. But even if he can’t make it here, he’ll be watching over these two.”

They are about to begin the ceremony and Dean’s excited to be the Best Man. He’s never thought he’d get to be that for real so it feels like a dream. Maria’s supposed to be the Flower Girl but she hasn’t shown up yet.

“Cas,” Charlie rushes over to them. Cas blinks up at her, tilting his head.

“Maria doesn’t want to walk, she’s embarrassed. Do you think you can help her out?”

Maria has gotten overly attached to Cas in these past two years and Dean believes it’s just infatuation. After all, who could look into these big blue eyes and not fall for them? Dean, however, is a little bit upset over the fact that she likes Cas better than him. But he’ll just wait until Maria will appreciate cars. And that’s when Dean will win.

“Of course,” Cas replies, “come on, Miracle.”

Miracle has essentially become Castiel’s therapy dog. She follows him everywhere and makes sure he eats and drinks enough. She loves Cas to pieces and anyone who even looks at the angel wrong gets growled at.

Dean watches them walk away and gets his phone out. He knows that there is a photographer here that films things but he wants that piece for himself. And he has to go up there anyway, so he might just go now anyway.

It takes five more minutes before Cas was apparently able to convince Maria to come out – and even then, she’s getting carried. She’s holding the flower basket close to her chest and Cas encourages her to throw the petals down. Dean’s heart melts at the sight of them.

Cas stops next to the pew where Claire and Kaia are sitting and basically tells Maria to throw flowers on them. Claire laughs and playfully shoves Cas away from them. Jody and Donna are also getting petals thrown in their face. Everybody is smiling and Dean’s happy that he’s filming this.

Maria is giggling and throwing petals all over the place. “She was so stiff before,” Charlie whispers in his direction.

“She wasn’t even looking at me and now look at that. How is Cas’ gayness softer than mine?”

“You’re just intimidating.”

“Cas is an angel!”

Eileen is beautiful when she walks down the aisle. Sam next to him exhales and has the biggest smile on his stupid face.

“Mama so pretty!” Maria proclaims loudly while clapping her hands.

“Yes, she is,” Cas replies a little quieter. He has her sitting on his lap and he has a flower in his hair. Apparently Maria was supposed to give that to her mom but she had decided that it was for Cas, so now he was wearing the flower. It does fit him, Dean thinks.

The ceremony itself goes over without a hitch even though Sam almost breaks down crying twice. Dean was expecting more, if he’s honest. Maybe Sammy practised with Cas – apparently Cas is the solution to every problem.

Later, at the party, Dean holds an embarrassing speech about Sam and after, Sam dunks his head into a pie. This is fair, because Dean definitely deserves that. It’s all good, though. Cas laughs and wipes Dean’s face clean and Maria – still in Cas’ lap – giggles like it’s Christmas.

Dean dances with Eileen and Sam dances with Cas and Maria. Charlie’s taking pictures and Dean loves it. Cas can’t dance for very long and he leans heavily onto Sam but he tries his best for Sam and Maria both.

Dean loves him.

And someday, he’ll man up enough to actually say these words. He just needs a little bit longer. And Cas is here to stay. Dean’ll work up the courage he needs and then it’ll be alright.

Charlie is dancing with Maria and Eileen is sitting next to Cas. She’s taken her shoes off and is likely complaining to the angel that her feet hurt. Cas is holding the wedding bouquet now and Dean knows that Eileen will insist he keep it.

“I wish she would’ve thrown it,” Claire says and Dean wiggles his eyebrows.

“You were hoping to catch it, weren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

At the end, Jack didn’t show. The party had ended a while ago, but Dean and Castiel are still sitting on a bench outside. It’s a nice night, and Dean doesn’t want to drive home yet. There are no clouds in the sky and the stars are shining bright. Dean reckons that that’s Jack’s doing. He still wishes he would’ve shown his face.

“Don’t be mad at him,” Castiel says while leaning on Dean’s shoulder. “You know he doesn’t do that well with a lot of people.”

Yes. That is true but still – he hadn’t even come to congratulate Sam? He also still hadn’t come to meet Maria yet. Dean wonders what work a God has to do. Didn’t Jack say he wanted to be hands off?

“Don’t you miss him?” Dean asks.

“Every day,” Castiel replies.

Castiel raises a hand towards the sky and Dean sees a shooting star. But the star stops after it passes Cas’ hand.

Castiel retracts his hand and there’s a golden orb floating above his palm.

“What’s that?”

It glows brightly and it’s almost too much for Dean to look at. It compels him in the same way it tells him to stay away from it. Where did it come from? Why is it here? What’s it going to do?

“Divinity,” Castiel quietly replies and closes his hand, making the orb disappear.

“Dean, really?”

Dean sighs. He knew it was a mistake to talk to Sam about this. But he knows that Charlie would’ve squealed in his ear and honestly, Claire is still a bit too young for this to talk about it. And yeah sure, Eileen would’ve been an option but even after all this time, Dean still hasn’t improved on his signing skills.

“I know it’s stupid.”

“I didn’t say that. But have you even choked up an I love you?”

Dean is quiet.

“Oh my god, I knew it. Dean, you can’t just propose like that!”

“...shut up.”

He pockets the box inside his jacket. He doesn’t want to propose right now anyway. It’s more like a promise to himself, that one day he might be worthy of this. If – when he’ll find the words one day, he’ll be good enough for Cas. He can be.

He will be.

For Cas, the best thing that ever happened to him.

For Cas, who still thinks he’s barely tolerated.

For Cas, who sees the world as more than it is.

For Cas, who loves so much and has never been loved in return.

Their first kiss doesn’t quite happen as Dean would’ve imagined it – not that he had ever been imagining it in the first place.

Cas is watching Dancing With The Stars and he’s really fascinated. Apparently, he’s never danced before. Dean’s never told him about Garth and Bess dancing in front of the window. He wonders how they’re doing now. Maybe they’re dancing right at this moment, while Sam and Castiel are finally asleep?

“Dean, please?” Castiel’s blue eyes are pleading and Dean has a hard time saying no. Cas always asks for so little and Dean’s always liked dancing when he got a chance to do it – which sadly is not often. So he sighs and stands up from the couch, offering his hand up to Cas.

“Might I have this dance, milady?”

Cas blinks at him in question, and then looks at the outstretched hand. At last, there’s a smile stealing itself across Castiel’s face and he gently takes Dean’s hand and hauls himself up.

“Of course, my lord.”

Dean chuckles and pulls Cas flush against him. It’s been a while since they were this close together without one of them on literal death’s door. Cas is alive and warm under his hands and Dean starts swaying. He’s never danced a real dance, much less so with another man. But it’s not like Cas could dance at all, so it’s okay. And besides – it’s not about the skill, it’s about the experience. And Cas –

Cas is laughing. It’s a happy laugh and he enjoys himself. It’s truly a sight to see. It’s rare to see Cas so relaxed and Dean feels more than privileged to witness this much less be the cause of it. Dean swirls Cas on the spot and as the swirl ends, Cas stumbles forward against Dean’s chest. Dean holds him tight and it’s a good feeling.

Cas’ hair is brushing against Dean’s chin and he feels calm. He gently puts one hand on Castiel’s cheek and Cas nuzzles into it. Castiel’s hand is loosely laying on Dean’s chest and the volume of the TV playing in the background is already fading away.

Dean’s in love.

He’s in love with Castiel.

He gently directs Castiel’s face upwards and looks at the big, blue, blinking eyes.

He doesn’t understand how he got to be so lucky.

Dean bends down, just a little, and ever so gently presses his lips against Castiel’s mouth.

It’s a quiet kiss, one that doesn’t require anything.

“Dean,” is all that Cas says afterwards but Dean quietly hushes him.

“Shh,” he replies and kisses him again.

It’s easier than anything else he’s ever done.

He doesn’t remember why he was ever afraid of this.

This, right here, is where he’s meant to be.

With the TV running in the background, in his shitty apartment, in worn-out clothes, with a dog sleeping in her bed, kissing Castiel.

Sometimes things are just easy.

Dean holds Castiel tight and thankfully, Castiel doesn’t speak.

It’s the most comforting silence and Dean cherishes it.

He’s in love.

It’s a soft thing, after. Nothing changes and yet, so much is different.

He kisses Cas in the morning before he goes to work; in the afternoon when he returns; when they make dinner; when they watch TV.

It’s the easiest thing in the world.

And yet, Dean knows that Cas wonders.

I know you don’t love me.

But Dean does. He just can’t say it. If he did, then – then what would John say? Dad would judge him for this. Dad would call him a girl; and a fairy; and tell Dean that Dad hadn’t raised a gay son.

He’s still thinking about this in bed. Next to him, Cas is fast asleep, holding onto Dean’s arm. Miracle is snoring in her own doggy bed.

“I love Cas,” Dean says toneless into the dark room and is instantly overcome by anxiety. Somehow, even after all these years, he expects John to bust through the door and expose him and nail him to the cross or something.

He turns to his side and looks at Cas. The angel looks so relaxed in his sleep and Dean gently pats his hair. Cas mumbles a bit and burrows closer to Dean as if to seek warmth. Dean puts his free arm around him and pulls him as close as possible, tucking the angel under his chin.

He doesn’t know what to do. Cas deserves to be told. But whenever Dean thinks it might be the right time for it – then there’s John standing in the distance, observing and judging him. Dean knows he just has to do it, that he just has to push through. Dad is dead and nothing can happen anymore. But this fear is far too ingrained inside his brain. Maybe writing a letter would help? But somehow it doesn’t feel like enough.

Dean needs to say it.

He has to say it.

But he can’t.

He can’t.

For all his bravery, for all his courage – he can’t.

“A bird learns to fly when it falls.”

Cas is not in bed when Dean wakes up.

“Water will whittle away the mountain.”

Cas is nowhere to be found inside the apartment. Miracle is quiet.

“A flower will break through the concrete.”

Dean panics. In his panic, he runs outside.

“Long after its death, a star will remain in the sky.”

Outside it’s foggy.

But there is Cas.

Cas is standing outside, barefooted, and Dean is rooted to the spot.

There are golden orbs floating around Castiel.

Divinity, Cas had called them.

“Cas,” Dean breathes and the angel turns around.

“Hello, Dean.”

“What are those?”

“I’ve told you. Divinity.”

“Yes, I know, but what are they?”

“A burden shared is a burden lifted. Ever since I woke all the way back before time existed, a great many stars have died. And still, some remain in the sky. Did you never wonder where they go?

Their physical form shall burn from velocity, but what about the stars? What about them? Who catches them? Where do they go? Shall they forever be lost in space?

I was lost too, you know. I was lost ever since the start. Sometimes I think I remember. Sometimes I think I remember an all consuming light in the dark. Sometimes I think I remember the beginning before it ever began. Sometimes I think I remember the void, the naught.

And then, just as quickly, I lose it again.

Why did Father abandon us?

Why did He create so many of us, if none of us mattered?

Come with us, the stars whispered to me, we have no answers but mayhap we shall find them.

Why did the stars exist, if only to die? I didn’t want them to be lost and so I collected them. I found them in the void and I took them with me for I thought I might find a purpose within them. And in time, they started finding me. I became their haven, their destination.

But still, I was lost. Each time a star would find me, I think I can see the light in the void again, the end after the end. But soon these memories are gone, too, and I can only hold on to scraps. And I wonder.

What if I don’t remember at all? What if what I see are just fragments from the stars, showing me what they saw in their last moments?

Dean, you must know: time is not linear. What happens before will happen after. The end happens before the start and sometimes the beginning happens in the middle. This time, this life is just one stream amongst them all.

Some stars tell me of the end; and others tell me of the start. Maybe some tell me of the middle. And maybe some tell me of all, and all I get is the light in the void at the start.

I’ve wondered.

Why am I broken?

Why am I, of all the angels, the only one that’s cracked?

What went wrong?

Why was it only ever me? Why wasn’t perfect like the others? Why weren’t others cracked as I was?

Why was I the only one that’s ever looked to the stars and collected them?

What if Father never made me?

What if – what if I was created by something else?

And if so, what was it? And why? And why did Father allow me to continue existing? Did He perhaps just not notice? Did He perhaps just not care? Did He perhaps just think me merely another insignificant angel that He needn’t pay attention to?

What broke the connection?

Why am I the only angel to love you?

Was I whole before, perhaps, but if that was so – what shattered me? What put me back together? Where did the missing pieces go?

The light I remember in the naught – what is it? Where does it come from? Why does it matter at all, why do I care if it lights up the void or not?

Why do I cling to a light that does not matter?

I –

I’m lost, Dean.

Amidst the stars, I am lost.

From here on out, where do I go?”

Dean reaches out.

Castiel is standing there all alone, surrounded by what remains of the stars – surrounded by divinity.

He takes Castiel’s hand.

“Go with me,” he says.

“I love you,” he says.

Amidst the stars, Castiel smiles.

Dean thinks he can see the light that Castiel spoke about.

It’s a soft, shining light and it’s free.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a big thing, Cas, you know? What if I fail?”

“Then we’ll fail together.”

Dean buys a corner lot. It’s very expensive. But he has a dream. He doesn’t want to work construction forever. He deserves to be happy. And Cas is here. Cas is here, and Sam is here, and Eileen is here – and everyone is here.

He’s not alone and he can rely on all these people. They want to help him; they want him to be happy. He can do this. For the first time in his life, he can do something solely for himself.

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have to depend only on himself.

Sam hoists Maria out of the car seat. He wants to go and help Eileen out of the car but if he did, she’d kick him in the shin.

“Are there no balloons?” Maria wants to know. Sam looks up. True, there are no balloons outside.

“I’m sure Uncle Dean’s got some inside, sweetheart.”

Maria grins from ear to ear and hugs her monkey toy harder. Cas had given it to her just a few years ago. It hadn’t even been her birthday; he had just wanted to give something to his niece. Sam is glad that they get along so well. But sometimes he debates: should they tell her that Cas is an angel? It’s not a problem right now, but he and Dean and Eileen will start aging one day while Cas will not.

But, ah well, it might be best to cross that bridge when they’d get there.

“Hunter’s Rest is a nice name,” Eileen says when she finally steps next to Sam. Sam just nods. It’s true. Sam had kept suggesting Roadhouse, in Ellen’s and Ash’s and Jo’s legacy but Dean had always refused. Dean hadn’t wanted to be a copy-cat of what they’ve been.

Dean wants something that’s his own.

And Sam couldn’t be happier for him.

It was a long road, getting here, and even now he could scarcely believe it.

But the Hunter’s Rest is officially opening today.

He smiles at Eileen, takes both his girl’s hands and enters Dean’s bar.

“Uncle Dean!”

Maria yells as soon as she spots her uncle and throws herself at his middle from across the room. Dean laughs and catches her. He lifts her up and holds her on his hip.

“How’s my favourite tornado?”

She giggles and hugs him tight.

“Where’s Uncle Cas?”

“He’s still in the back, sweetheart. Be nice to him today, okay? It’s not a good day. But I know he’ll be happy to see you, so why don’t you go say hello?”

Maria nods with a solemn expression on her face. She knows about Uncle Cas’ bad days. She shouldn’t be too loud on these and she has to understand that he might not want to play as much with her. She loves Uncle Cas. She wouldn’t tell this to anyone because she knows Uncle Dean would be upset, but Uncle Cas is her favourite. There’s a glow about him that she can’t explain to anyone, but it draws her to him.

Uncle Dean puts her on the ground and she goes to find Uncle Cas. When she finds him, he smiles at her. He looks tired and sick, but he glows so brightly today.

“Hello, Maria,” he greets her.

She steps closer and climbs into his lap.

“I love you,” she says and Uncle Cas hugs her tight.

“Looks good, Dean,” Sam says to Dean in the meantime. Dean grins and pulls his brother close. He nods at Eileen who waves back.

“How are we coming along?” he asks her and she rubs her stomach.

“Good,” she replies, “the doctor says it’s two.”

“Two, huh? Man, Sammy, you dog!”

Sam laughs and Dean slaps him on the shoulder.

“Maria was really hoping for some balloons,” Sam says and Dean shrugs.

“I have some in the back, but I don’t know if I should hang them up. It’s gonna be a few hours still until official opening, you know?”

“Are Charlie and Stevie coming?”

“Yeah, Charlie’s gonna help me set up the music. The others are coming too, but Donna can’t make it. Some important thing came up but she’s gonna drop by in the coming days.”

Sam nods.

“There should be balloons,” Eileen pipes up and Dean sighs deeply.

“Fine,” he says then, “but y’all are helping me with that. I ain’t the only one blowing these things up.”

“I overheard,” Cas says as he’s rolling out of the back in his wheelchair. On his lap, there are Maria and a big load of balloons.

Dean sighs. “Why am I being set up?”

Castiel smiles at Dean. “Because balloons make everything better. We should’ve gotten glitter, too, you know? We’ll help, Dean.”

“Bad day, huh?” Sam asks him while they are placing the balloons. Dean nods.

“Last couple days actually. Yesterday was the worst; he wouldn’t even get out of bed. The day before that, he spent almost all day puking into the toilet. But he’s getting better now, I think. It’s just – I know that he’s sick. I know that these days happen and that they’ll happen again, it just – it just fucking scares me, y’know? Knowing that there’s nothing I can do, no spell to find to cure him or anything – it just makes me feel so helpless.”

Sam puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean, you’re doing great. What you’re going through – what you both are going through – is extremely stressful. I can’t even imagine. I can’t imagine all the hurdles you had to go through to get here. How scary it has to be to wake at night and see Cas being sick again. I’m proud of you, Dean. I really am. You’re holding it together so well and if – if you ever have to break, I’m here for you. We’re all here for you. You’re not alone. You’re never alone, Dean.”

Dean huffs out a laugh and turns to hug his brother.

It’s true.

Their lone journey is over.

They started with just the two of them.

But they’re never going to be alone again.

“I love you,” Dean whispers into dark hair.

“I don’t know when I fell in love. I don’t know when I realised. But I love you. I love all of you.

We’ve endured a great many things, you and I. We fell and rose together, we burned and crashed together. And in all this time, you weren’t even supposed to be there. But you were. You fought and clawed your way back to me every single time, and I’ve never even said thank you. I never once appreciated all the pain and misery you had to endure just to get back to me.

No matter what, you were there. You were there for me and Sam when nobody else was. You stayed by your side since the very beginning and you overturned everything you believed in because you started to believe in me. You had faith in me, the man without faith. And through you – you became my faith. I believed in nothing, I had faith in nothing – except you. I had faith in you. When you were gone, so was my faith gone. And when you returned, you brought it back with you.

When we met, you told me that good things do happen.

For so long, I didn’t believe you. But you were right. And know what? That good thing that would happen to me was right in front of me. And we didn’t know. Neither of us knew. Who could’ve imagined?

A man afraid of flying and an angel afraid of falling.

We really did meet in the middle, huh?

I’m sorry, Cas. I never did right by you. All your life you thought you were wrong because you weren’t like the others. You always believed that you needed to atone for your sins someway. And I – I didn’t help you. I made you think that you were expendable, that you weren’t worth anything. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, because I was wrong.

You’re worth everything. You matter so much, Cas – to me, to Sam, to the world. I’m sorry that all of us have fallen short. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make it up to you for all eternity, because I love you. If you’ll have me for whatever reason, then I’m yours. And I’m never going to let go. If I lose you, I will stop at nothing to find you again.

It’s you and me. Now and forever.”

“Look for the light,” Castiel whispers into the darkness.

“Look for the light and you’ll always find me there.”

At the end of a long, long life, Dean opens his eyes.

Above him, there’s nothing but endless stretches of blue sky.

Dean sits up and looks around.

He’s in an onion field and he stands up.

He turns to the side and sees him there.

There’s a trench-coat angel standing in the onion field, surrounded by the golden orbs of stars.

The wings behind him are magnificent and have the colour of a rainbow.

Dean starts approaching him.

Behind the angel, there is a massive tree.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

#supernatural #Destiel #castiel #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #eileen leahy #writing #spn fix it #spn 15x20 #fanfiction #hurt #hurt/comfort #dean x castiel #userpris

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yanderecandystore · 4 years ago

Note

How would Jack react to an artistic s/o, like he carries a sketchbook with him at all times and once Jack saw that he had at least a full page of just Jack doodles and sketches

Yo, hello there! I'm sorry for taking so long to answer you, I was trying to find the right time to write! :3

Do y'all mind if I changed it up a little bit? Changing a little bit of "reader's role" in this headcanon, instead of always being the "one of his gang's members" and such. I decided to add a little more than one page of sketches though •v• because I'm an ass.

Also oh my God, I'm sorry for babbling so much at the start ;-;.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

A cool and peaceful breeze in the middle of all Hell [Yandere!Delinquent OC Male artist!Reader - Headcanon]:

Let's set the stage, dear.

You're one of many students inside Saint Bernard's School for Prodigies, a place that since it's building process, was meant to be a safe environment to all gifted students, and even students that didn't seem to have any talent at all. It was built to be a welcoming place.

It was built to rival Amaryllis Academy. While Amaryllis was focused on a specific group of people (coff coff rich families coff coff), Saint Bernard's was supposed to be the… "Common crowd alternative".

It never got to the same level of development as Amaryllis did. Although there are rumours about the Academy being a breeding ground for prejudice and discriminatory behavior (involving a lot of bullying towards students that had paid their way into the scholarship), Saint Bernard's was basically disfuncional.

The only thing granting a base for it's failed and shaky structure, was government income and the rumours around the school. Student deaths, delinquency, gang fights, fragile authority that fails to reinforce school regulations, contraband inside school grounds, no security for both the faculty's staff nor the students, severe cases of bullying, etc, etc.

You heard that a billion times. And don't get me wrong, it is not like there aren't good people here, good people that can't afford a better place to go. But the bad overthrows the good.

So here you are, just another boy trying to pass through the school year like any other student. A guy trying to keep under the radar of… Basically, every single student and teacher in this place. You came with terms that, sadly, you couldn't trust no one here.

You saw what happens if someone like you starts to get comfortable around these people. They're brutal. The thought of getting out of this place has crossed your mind many times, but you don't really know where else to go. It's the nearest place to your house, and it's literally free to enter.

You're the silent type, you're not exactly antisocial by any means, you just prefer to be left alone with your pens and your trust sketchbook, although, it's kinda not having much space left, is it?

You don't have more money to buy a better set of materials, and to be honest, you're aware of how unkindly people would treat you if you bring something a little more pricey. There were students who were already picking on you for the fact that you just kept drawing and being a lazy bun, if they saw you with things that clearly looked (even a little bit) expensive you would never hear the end of it.

You remember seeing a poor girl (I mean literally) who had saved her money to buy a new pair of shoes, since her's were clearly old and tearing apart. Her tenacity was something really admirable, as she saved more than enough money to buy something actually good for her. Something she probably didn't seem to be accustomed with, as her reaction to getting her new shoes destroyed in front of her own eyes was absolutely heartbreaking.

Chills still run down your spine, as you remember one boy saying something like-

"- It's her own fault. She shouldn't have come to this place wearing that."

You really hate this place, the only shine of light though was what you heard another boy say.

"- Yeah, it sure is a poor girls' fault that a bunch of imbeciles are jealous of her accomplishments." That sarcastic tone was more than enough to get your attention, looking at the direction of the voices talking you saw the two boys that were talking.

One was clearly discomfortable with the situation, like he just said something stupid and is trying to not sound as bad as it was, and the other one who was not even looking at the asshole beside him, and oddly enough, he wasn't looking at the situation happening in front of everyone anymore. He felt like someone was looking at him, and coincidentally, there you were.

Of course, he looked at you like he would simply get up and beat the shit out of you for staring at him, he thought you had a problem with him, and he wouldn't mind starting a problem with you if that were the case.

The cold look was enough to send you the message, and not wanting to cause any trouble, you just moved your attention to somewhere else, ya know, like the girl suffering in the middle of the school's hall, maybe you shouldn't have looked at him for so long.

I guess you were just, caught up in his features?

Okay, maybe you have a problem now. You can't help but keep drawing him! Like, okay, you thought that maybe just one sketch would be fine. He has a lot of nice facial features and- and he is always with a closed expression. No emotions, just pure angst. You found yourself liking to draw him, and when you noticed, you had enough material to cover two pages. Two fucking pages filled with a boy don't even know!!

[Y/N], come on, get to your senses. You heard about the boy, he is one of the many delinquents running this place, if not the leader of one of the most influential gangs around this hellhole. Jack, was it?

Imagine having that guy and his gang come beat you up for being extremely nosy and drawing him so many times? You want to know what's worse though? One of these sketches were from a specific moment you saw this man without his jacket on, his shirt being see through and almost non-existent.

You need to burn all of them. Immediately. Or otherwise your school year will go from manageable to completely fucked. But some of these make great art studies tho-

"- Yo. I need to talk with you." Oh dear lord, your time has come.

"- S-Sup!" You try to hide the sketchbook before he notices some interesting depictions of himself. But honestly, it was too late boo, he already knew about it.

"- Mayday told me you've been stalking me." Jack said, not sounding even a little bit concerned about being "stalked".

You don't really know who is "Mayday", unless she is one of his gang's members. Actually, you may have a guess on who she is. You think you saw some girl giving you odd looks here and there, not really mean looks, but just "concerned looks", and now that you think about it, you saw her walking around with Jack.

Wait, was she the girl that got her shoes destroyed that day?

"- Oi! Aren't you going to say what the fuck is your problem?" While you were thinking about who that girl was, Jack took the opportunity to come closer and snatch your sketchbook.

"- Give me that. You better answer me or you won't see this until then." Jack had started to open the sketchbook up, to his absolute luck and to your demise, he opened up on that exact page.

"- Wait! Hold on, don't open it!-"

Too late though. His face said everything.

"- Woah. Interesting." Jack knows absolutely nothing about art and drawing and stuff like that. Yeah, he may know a couple of things about writing but, it's completely different to him. He is impressed with how talented you are.

That's so quite flattering details you managed to put in there, does he really look like that to you?

"- This is your work right? Is this why you kept staring at me?" He asks you, but honestly, what would answer? This guy has a whole group of people that can easily hurt you, so telling the truth can both free you and damn you.

"- Yeah, I did all of these… I'm sorry if it seemed like I was stalking you, well, I mea- I'm sorry if it made you feel awkward, I just thought you were a interesting model I guess?" There is no imaginable way of saying this without sounding like an stalker, right? God, this is so embarrassing…

Jack is absolutely flattered by this. Oh, yeah, it's creepy as fuck, love. But does he really care? I mean, dearest, do you really know him?

Mayday wasn't the first one to notice you staring, of course he felt someone drooling over him. It facinates him how ever since that day you kept being more prominent in his life, or rather, in his mind, as he never really made a move to physically interact with you.

He is surprised by how his acting skills have improved, he thought that he wouldn't find a way to convince you of his surprise when noticing your drawings for the "first time". Throughout this whole time he has thinking about you, is funny to see that in a way you were also thinking about him. Well, partially, you probably saw him as only a way to improve your art.

And honestly, he doesn't mind being your muse.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #sheep's stuff #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc headcanons #yandere delinquent x male reader #yandere delinquent #yandere delinquent x reader #yandere delinquent oc #special delivery request #special delivery headcanons

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babbushka · 5 years ago

Text

Mind & Soul (8/10)

The story of how one man fell out of love and into it again

Charlie (Marriage Story) x Reader

7.6k ; N S F W, minor angst

Tumblr masterlist for previous chapters // Available on AO3

---------------------

I love you for sentimental reasons I hope you do believe me I'll give you my heart

I love you and you alone were meant for me Please give your loving heart to me And say we'll never part

September

The summer days are filled with light and joy, after that, after the big explosion between Charlie and Henry. It was an explosion which he knew was coming, had to have known was coming for some time. It feels good to have gotten all that out of the way now, Henry seems lighter for it.

Heatwaves come and go, and with them so do the lingering clutches of pain. Now the crunch of early autumn leaves snap under foot, and Henry is back to school. A new grade and a new opportunity for growth. His reading is improving significantly, as is his mood; there’s no real arguments anymore. It’s hard sometimes, because of course it’s hard, but you’re all in it together, and that makes things a little easier.

Charlie thinks back to before all of this, thinks back to how miserable he had been, trapped in a marriage he didn’t want anymore, stuck with a wife who hated him. He thinks about it, about how rough the last year had been, how cold she had been to him and how warm you were, how warm you always were.

He thinks about it; the hiding, the sneaking, the lies.

He thinks about it as you shift and turn in bed, the soft sheets kissing your naked body, dawn pouring into the bedroom and casting you into the most gorgeous pink glow Charlie’s ever seen. Birds chirp and the sounds of early morning traffic come to life, and Charlie just feels good.

There’s still hiding, sneaking, and lies. But it’s your bed now too, and that makes Charlie grin against the top of your hair as you hum out a little stretch to greet the day.

“’Morning.” Charlie’s voice is thick and syrupy to his own ears, he’s barely got his eyes open but the moment he can feel you stirring, he finds waking up a lot easier of a task.

You snuggle up closer to him, impossibly close as the little alarm on his phone rings. Charlie groans, smacks a hand over to the nightstand and unplugs it from his charger.

His burner phone lives in the bottom of a drawer somewhere now. He doesn’t need it, not really, not anymore. He isn’t living under the constant surveillance he once was, and though he can’t just be outright with you, it’s much less strict that it was before. He doesn’t save any pictures still, he’s too paranoid for that, for them saving to some cloud somewhere. But the calls, the texts, those all feel like something he can give himself, something he can give you.

His regular phone chimes and rings and clangs through the quiet of the room, and Charlie fumbles to shut it up, making you laugh out a little groan of your own.

“How did you sleep?” He asks you, combing his fingers through your hair. He smiles, because you’re not really bothering to move away from the pillow you’ve made of his chest. It’s a steady weight, a warmth he’s wanted for so long.

“Like a baby.” You grin up at him as the early dawn of morning bathes the room in oranges now. You kiss his chin where you can reach, press your smile against his face, tickling him with your voice as you ask, “You?”

“Pretty damn good.” Charlie holds you by your hips and pulls you up the last couple inches for your lips to be level with one another, and you get the hint, rising up onto your hands and knees on top of him, his hands smoothing around your back, “But I’d much rather be awake with you.”

“Kiss me?” You grin, biting your lower lip around a smile, rubbing your nose against his as the sky goes golden from an autumn sunrise.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Charlie smiles back at you, before opening his mouth up to yours, lips parting, seeking your touch.

You settle yourself against him and kiss him for what feels like hours. Eyes closed, Charlie breathes you in, every drop of you, even the taste of your sleep-sour breath. It doesn’t bother Charlie, not one bit. He lets one of his hands clasp around the back of your neck possessively, his other hand pinching grabbing nipping down your back until he’s got a palmful of your ass and gives it a good squeeze.

He wants you, so fucking badly. But these aren’t summer days where the house sleeps in, no, there’s a schedule and as Charlie kisses you, he’s painfully aware of it. Your tongue is hot and slow against his, and it’s turning him on, the head of his cock lightly brushing against your ass from where your body is moving on top of him.

He’s got to pull you off of him soon, otherwise you’ll both be too desperate to do anything else. He groans against your lips and kisses you three more times, before making a move to sit up. You chuckle and go along with him, climbing off his lap and getting out of bed.

“What time is it?” You ask as you stretch and shake the last little remnants of sleep from your limbs.

“Too early.” Charlie replies, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and watching you move around the room, beautifully nude.

“Better get up and dressed before he wakes up.” You hum playfully tossing a towel at Charlie’s face.

His reflexes are fast enough that he catches it no problem, and if things were different, if Henry knew you were here, Charlie could wrestle you to the bed and the sound of your laughter wouldn’t be such an alerting noise.

But as it were, Henry doesn’t know you’re here this time, he doesn’t know you’ve spent the night, so Charlie lets you get away with whatever you want, towels being thrown at his face included.

“He’s old enough to make himself breakfast now, don’t you think?” Charlie’s never been the most morning person around, but the sight of you walking towards the masterbath that’s connected to his room has him feeling playful in his own way.

“Are you going to shower with me or do I have to be all alone, soaking wet, covered in suds and -- !” You start, before he’s rushing after you and smacking your ass with that towel, making you cover your mouth so your laugh doesn’t ring through the quiet of morning, as he chases you into the bathroom.

---------------------

It’s not long after a little joint-jerk-off session in the shower, that you’re coming back from your house in a fresh pair of clothes, hair done up and chipper. You let yourself in with the key that’s gotten so much use Charlie’s almost worried it’ll wear out, and make a beeline for the kitchen.

School mornings are pretty fast-paced, and it isn’t long before Henry is bounding down the stairs when he smells the brew of coffee – a tell tale sign that you’re here.

“Good morning Henry!” You smile at him, he’s all ready for the day except for his shoes which wait by the front door. Henry’s gotten better at figuring out what clothes go together, and he’s in this very sweet stage where he’s trying to emulate Charlie, so he’s wearing a little button down that’s maybe too big for him.

“Hi (Y/N), whatcha making?” He comes over to you but you put a hand out to stop him from getting too close to the stove as you turn the heat on and grab a pan.

“We are making scrambled eggs, can you help me and get the cheese from the fridge?” You correct, and his eyes light up at the prospect of being a helper and also because he loves scrambled eggs.

“Can I have mine like dad gets?” Henry asks from the fridge as he rifles through the shelves to find the bags of pre-shredded cheese from the grocery store.

“Are you sure? He likes his more runny than you do.” You’re pleasantly surprised, like most kids Henry was a picky eater.

“Yeah I’m sure, I wanna try.” Henry nods, coming back over with an assortment of cheeses and dumping them on the counter.

You begin cracking a couple eggs into a bowl and whisking them up with a pinch of salt, a good handful of pepper jack and cheddar just the way you know the boys like it. Henry hovers behind you standing on his tip-toes to try and look over your shoulder because you won’t let him too close to the stove as you swirl the runny eggs around and around with butter.

“I’m very proud of you for being open minded to trying something new kiddo. And if you don’t like it, I can always cook them a little bit more.” You smile over your shoulder at him and he gets embarrassed from being caught, right at the same time Charlie finally descends in a nice freshly pressed suit.

“Morning dad! (Y/N) and I are making eggs, look.” Henry beckons Charlie over and you can’t help but chuckle a little from his excitement.

“I see, good that you’re being a helper. What can I do, want me to make pancakes?” He asks you, because now that you’re back and there’s coffee in the pot ready for him to pour, and eggs are scrambled he feels like he could be a morning person, he could be a morning person with you.

“Yes! We can use the blueberries.” Henry pipes up, answers his question even though he wasn’t asked.

The blueberries in question were just picked up last weekend at the farmer’s market. It had become a bit of a tradition, you and Henry going to the farmer’s market on Sundays. Sundays Charlie had been working in the theater, taking an extra day to make sure rehearsals were going well, making sure Tom & Jerry were liking what the troupe was doing.

It reminded Charlie of the old days, where he’d call you to watch Henry during his meetings, when he’d ask you to babysit for long rehearsal nights. Every time he came back, you and Henry had found a whole array of treasures, from fresh produce to interesting art pieces and crafts that Charlie had begun to display.

But these blueberries were huge, and even though Charlie hadn’t been there to pick them out, he was excited to taste their sweetness. Charlie smiles at the domestic bliss of it all, goes to the fridge to get the little carton.

“Set the table please, hot pans over here.” He tells his son, and Henry groans and rolls his eyes playfully as he does as he’s told.

The minute that Henry’s out of the room, Charlie steps next to you and begins whipping up the box mix of pancakes for the sake of time, accidentally or maybe not so accidentally bumping your hip with his as you work on scrambled eggs right beside him.

“He’s in an adventurous mood lately.” You remark, gesturing with your spatula to the dining room.

“I know I don’t know what’s gotten into him but I’m glad.” Charlie replies, because he really is glad that his son is starting to develop a more adult palette, and isn’t just demanding sweets for breakfast every morning. Charlie looks around, makes sure Henry isn’t coming back and quickly steals a kiss from your smiling cheek. “You want pancakes too?”

“If you don’t mind.” You nod, taking the eggs out, a perfectly creamy buttery cheesy consistency.

“I don’t, any chance to stay next to you a little longer I’m going to take.” Charlie replies, and you have you nearly duck your head from your own blush.

“You’re such a charmer.” You shake your head, scooping the eggs out of a pan and putting them into a serving bowl.

“Oh I’m more than that.” Charlie’s voice drops as he flips a pancake, leans down to your ear and whispers, “I took the day off work, when I drop Henry off I’m coming straight back to you.”

“Yeah?” A slow smile begins to spread across your face, as you stick the pan in the sink to be dealt with later.

Charlie reaches out to you and you go to him, cross the little kitchen and let his arm wind around your waist. His lips tickle your ear when he nuzzles his face near your cheek.

“Yeah, and when I step through that door, I’ll be very upset if you’re not naked and waiting for me in bed.” He says, and there’s that deep dark quality to his voice that reminds you so much of the very beginnings of this affair, the beginnings of his wanton desire for you.

“I’d never want to upset you, Mr. Barber.” You whisper, and Charlie nearly breaks out into goosebumps from it, from the way you’re able to flip that switch inside him so easily.

And then you’re stepping away, walking the bowl of eggs into the dining room where Henry is waiting patiently. Charlie smiles to himself, flips another pancake off the griddle, and he’s not too far behind.

---------------------

Charlie doesn’t carry too much stuff anymore, when he walks Henry to school. Now he always has a free hand for his son to hold when they cross the streets, they leave with enough time that Charlie doesn’t have to scramble to make it to the theater. Henry doesn’t have to run to keep up with him, and instead of protests, Henry chatters away about all the gossip and news around his school, in his class.

“You’ve got everything you need, right?” Charlie asks as they approach the brick wall that Charlie knows is the start of the school property.

“Ugh dad, that was one time!” Henry rolls his eyes, and they check both ways before going through the crosswalk.

“I know but accidents happen, it’s okay.” Charlie says anyway, careful of his footing as he approaches that uneven part of the sidewalk. “Watch the lip.”

“Are we doing anything this weekend?” Henry asks, completely ignoring him in that way kids do sometimes when they’re wrapped up in their own heads.

“No, what did you have in mind?” Charlie asks back, the two of them stopping in front of the school.

“I was invited to Edgar’s birthday party and I really really want to go they’re going to have a bounce-house.” Henry replies, and that makes Charlie smile because honestly a bouncy house sounds like a pretty fun time.

“If you give me the invitation I’ll make sure you get there honey. We have to get him a present, start thinking of something he might like, okay?” Charlie makes sure that Henry’s backpack and coat and everything are on him and that his shoelaces are tied because he’s that kind of parent, and Henry laughs, shrugging his dad’s hands away.

“Okay – are we still going to go to the park after school?” Henry asks, right as the bell rings and all the other kids start walking a little faster to get up the stairs.

“If the weather stays nice we will. Okay, have a good day!” Charlie gives Henry a hug right as some of Henry’s friends run up the stairs.

“I love you dad.” Henry hugs Charlie back quickly before wrangling out of his hold and joining his buddies, the group of them happy to be reunited after a whole night of not seeing each other.

“Love you too honey!” Charlie calls after Henry, smiling, glad that his son is doing alright, glad that everyone’s alright.

I think of you every morning Dream of you every night Darling, I'm never lonely Whenever you are in sight

When he comes back home, he closes and locks the door behind him, steps out of his shoes and hangs his coat up. He puts his keys in the dish by the door, and runs a hand through his hair, and then looks up and sees you, standing at the foot of the stairs, completely in the nude.

“I thought I told you to wait in bed.” Charlie grins, drinking in the sight of your body in the morning sun. It’s only a little after seven o’clock, he’s got so much time – fuck he’s got all day to spend with you, and your body is so inviting, the way that it’s posing so seductively for him.

“Maybe I wanted to wait for you here.” You shrug one shoulder, being difficult, doing whatever you want.

Charlie will always let you do whatever you want, and you know, you grin, flash him your teeth.

“It’s not fair, to tease a man like this.” Charlie takes a few slow steps towards you, and you take a few steps backwards up the stairs in response. He shakes his head with a smile, licks across his front teeth, wants you.

“It’s only teasing if I don’t let you take me.” You lick your lips, muscles in your breast twitching and drawing his attention immediately, drawing his gaze to the way your nipples are perked up and begging to be pinched, bitten.

“Are you?” He asks, growing hard in his slacks, stepping closer closer closer, “Are you going to let me?”

You only turn around, crook a finger to beckon him forward, and it’s a race to see who can get to the bedroom faster.

He practically tears at his clothes, his crisp button down and suit jacket, his slacks. He hops out of each leg as you roll onto the mattress with a laugh, the bed frame bouncing as he joins you, as he covers your body with his own, stripped down as quickly as he can to nothing but his socks.

He goes dizzy for a second, because the rush of blood from his head to his dick is so fast that he huffs out a groan as you contort your body into all these alluring shapes, soft colors of your skin in the sun blending together, making him so fucking hard.

“You’re so gorgeous, you know that? Look at this, look at you. I should get a mirror and stick it on the ceiling so you can watch me fuck you, watch all the slutty faces you make when you’re drooling for my dick.” Charlie’s voice is deep yet insistent, as he wedges a hand between your thighs.

“Touch me, touch me please I need you.” You pin your wrists up over your head, letting them clutch at the pillow while he drinks in the sight of you.

He doesn’t know what he wants from you first, there’s so much he wants to do with you, so many ways he wants to make you feel good, to feel good with you.

“Spread your fuckin’ legs,” He settles on, because his cock is really aching for you, his whole body aches for you, yearns for the pleasure that only you can provide. Your knees fall apart and his hand slides against your slit, already so wet. “That’s it, there’s that pretty pussy.”

You nod, and you let out a breathy moan as he curls two fingers inside you, pushes them past the slight resistance of your body and up against the tight wet heat of your walls. He sits back a little because he loves the sight of it, loves watching his body disappear into yours, watching you take him so well, watching you want him.

“Your cunt just swallows me up, doesn’t it,” Charlie groans as your pussy squeezes around his fingers, his thumb lazily stroking teasing circles around your clit that makes your cunt drip with slick, slick that’s only letting him finger you deeper, “It’s practically begging for these fingers.”

“Your hands, oh they’re so big.” You moan, hands gripping the pillow, back arching enough that your pretty tits push out.

“Bigger than my cock?” Charlie bends you then, fingers you nice and slow, gets you worked up. He loves it when you’re worked up, loves it when you’re blissed out from a well earned orgasm, or two, or three, or or or.

“No – no nothing’s bigger than your cock.” You sigh out happily, voice like liquid gold, like velvet as he licks up a stripe between your tits, kisses at your nipples.

“Hmmm, if you want it you’re going to have to beg for it.” He pretends to think, pretends that he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing, giving you exactly what you want to hear.

He thrusts his fingers in and out of your cunt until he knows you’re good and stretched for him. He’s bigger than average, bigger than most, he knows. He doesn’t ever want to hurt you, and he takes the foreplay very seriously. He fingers you, and kisses licks bites sucks at your tits, until your chest heaves from pleasure and your throat clicks as you moan.

“Can I have it, please? Please Charlie I’ll do anything – anything you want if you fuck me with that big cock of yours, come in me, all over me I don’t care just give it to me.” You demand, a needy selfish brat that he adores, that he wants to please, that he’ll give anything to just the same.

“What if I fuck you all day, hm? Make you sticky all over, come in you so hard that you taste it.” He listens to the sick squelch of your cunt around his fingers as you just get wetter and wetter, desperate for something more filling, desperate for anything to really satisfy that urge.

“Charlie, yes, please!” Your legs bend and straighten, thighs trembling as your hips rise, as you egg him on, encourage him, beg for him, pleas rolling off your tongue like the easy whore you are for him. “Please, please give me that, come in me, make me smell like you.”

Without any warning he pulls his fingers out of you and lines his cock up, pushes it all the way in with one sharp thrust, one that punches out a high whine, a gasp, a moan all mixed up into one, tears it from your throat as you smile so wide, getting what you want, spoiled and greedy and all his, all Charlie’s.

“Oh baby you’re so tight, didn’t I fuck you enough last night? You sweet needy thing, I’ll fill you up.” He grunts as his hips begin to thrust, begin building a fast rhythm that’s got his eyes shut tight, already wanting to drool from the pleasure of it.

“I need it, oh my god.” Your hands dig into his shoulders, feeling the way his muscles move and flex above you as his hips shove themselves right up against yours, his cock splitting you into a thousand pieces.

It’s incredible, it’s intoxicating, the velvet blazing hot grip your cunt has on his cock feels so good, makes him sweat. Your body wraps around his as you try to get impossibly closer, moving and writhing and taking this pounding, taking it so well as he pulls his cock all the way out only to slam it back in.

“You like that? Like feeling me inside you – feel how hard it is?” Charlie’s jaw is clenched from pleasure and he alternates between holding himself up and grabbing at your body, his hips rocking the bed, shaking the headboard, making it smack against the wall from how fast he’s railing you.

“Don’t stop don’t you dare fucking stop – oh, oh yes!” You shout, head thrown back in pleasure as you claw at his shoulders with your nails, as your legs hook around his hips and push his ass, the back of his thighs closer to you, your tits bounce, your mouth is dropped open and all that comes out are yelled curses.

“You’re so loud, shouting out my name, call my name baby.” Charlie grunts, pinches your nipple and tweaks it hard as he angles himself better to get your gspot stimulated at the same time. He searches for it, the head of his cock nudging up hard against your walls.

“Charlie!” You gasp loud loud loud as he finds it, as he grinds his dick against it over and over, making your back arch, your toes curl, your cunt grip him so tight, “Charlie please!”

“I bet all our neighbors can hear you, I bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are.” He pants, his cock throbbing, aching for you, sliding against the wet wet wet heat of your walls. His dick is so sensitive, and with each drag of the head of his cock in and out of your body, he feels like he can’t suck down air fast enough, not even from your lungs, and he tries.

“Yours, all y—oh shit—all yours.” Your body shakes shudders trembles under him as he kisses you deeply, passionately, sloppy.

His hand slides from your nipple to your clit, and he gathers up some of the slick that’s made your inner thighs go nice and shiny, smears it between his fingers and uses it to lube up your clit as he pushes hard and fast circles, zig-zags, back and forth motions times with his thrusts that have you screaming his name.

“That’s – that’s fucking right, you’re mine, my whore,” He encourages, bites down hard on the spot where your shoulder meets your neck, “I bet they’re touching themselves thinking of you, listening to you get pounded, I bet they wish they could hear this pussy weep for me.”

“Ch—Charlie!” You shout, tears starting to collect in your eyes as you gush around his cock, soak through to the sheets, soaking through into his heart, his soul, his cock.

“Shh baby, it’s okay, it’s okay, let go.” Charlie’s not far behind.

Your eyes roll back into your head as your pussy pulses, sucking him in just like it did his fingers, coming still. Your teeth chatter a little as your body jolts with pleasure, and that’s so fucking hot that he comes hard in you, hips slamming against yours one final time before he blows his load into your waiting body, pelvis flush against yours as your legs fall limp onto the mattress.

He comes and pants hard, grunting and groaning out his orgasm as your pussy milks him for what he’s worth. His arms are a cage above you, beads of sweat drip down from the tip of his nose and he’s so grateful that it’s turtleneck season because your throat is a series of beautiful blooming bruises that he put there.

The sight of the markings, his markings, his claiming of you, makes more come force itself out of his cock, and Charlie winces, moans and sighs against you as sparks of his own pleasure snap up his spine.

“Mmm, I’m not done with you yet, not yet.” Charlie presses the words into your cheek, kisses you with swollen lips, licks at the corner of your mouth as his hips slowly grind against yours, still not having pulled out. “I’m still hard – roll over for me?”

You’re boneless, but you try your best. He pulls out to give you enough space to flop over onto your stomach, and he grabs his pillow from the other side of the bed, uses it to prop your hips up. Your arms fold under your own pillow and you mouth at the soft cotton pillow case, wetting it with your spit as he slowly slowly slowly slides his cock back into your pussy from behind.

“Oh,” You sigh happily, “God that feels good.”

“Not too much?” Charlie nibbles on the shell of your ear as you take a great deal of energy to wriggle your ass up against his crotch.

“You’re never too much, I never get enough of you.” You moan as he plugs you full of his come, as he fucks it back into you from where it was threatening to spill down your thighs in a steady stream of sticky white.

“Relax for me baby, relax, feel good?” Charlie takes you slowly now, takes his time. He got out his pent up tension and stress, this is about dragging out another orgasm from you nice and easy.

He kneels behind you, your legs bent on either side of his thighs as he rocks his dick into you. Each time he pulls out he sees your come mingling with his, and he’s so fucking thankful that you decided to go on the pill, so thankful that he lets you have this, this gorgeous sight of your pussy drooling his come.

He’s going to give you more, because he’s got so much more to give, and your body accepts it so willingly, it’s enough to make him cry. He smacks your ass because he can, because it’s right here in front of him, and your toes curl and flex. He does it again, and you moan, making out half-way delirious with your pillow.

“So good, you’re so good to me.” You sigh, moan, eyes closed and reveling in the way his cock stuff all his come back into you, the smack of it filling the room.

“You tired?” Charlie asks with a smile, he’s got so much planned for you, he’s going to eat you out for hours, he wants you to ride him, he wants to so much with you, but even as he’s fucking you, he can’t help but think how nice it is to simply sleep beside you too.

“Yeah, but don’t stop, don’t stop – go slow, fuck me slow.” You mumble as you meet him for every careful thrust; and that alone makes Charlie’s own head tip back, like he’s looking up, up at the heavens, thanking them for giving him such an angel as you.

“You’re so wet, I love the sound your pussy makes for me, it drives me crazy.” Charlie murmurs as he rocks into you slow and sweet, feeling your cunt pulse and flutter around him. There’s a steady stream of his own come that’s oozing out of you that he just can’t fit, and that’s okay, he likes knowing you’re stuffed full to the brim.

“I like you when you’re crazy – oh, oh.” You moan, and he takes the opportunity of your open mouth to slip a few fingers against your tongue.

Something about the soft rasp of your mouth sucking on his fingers, coupled with the tight clench of your pussy has Charlie’s chest on fire. You suck on those fingers and moan around them, and his stomach quivers, his thighs shake as he fucks your hot cunt lazily, with more restraint that he really has.

“Touch yourself for me, let me feel you come around me again.” Charlie says, voice even and steady somehow, somehow despite being so close to coming himself again.

And you do, you bring yourself over that edge a second time, and this time it’s more of a slow build, a wash over Charlie’s nerves as he pushes somehow more come into you. He knows he’ll need a break in a minute, his balls have to be empty by now, his cock finally beginning to soften as it throbs inside you.

He sits back and stills his hips, watches as his dick just twitches as he pulls out an inch, just enough to watch himself drain his come into your body.

“Keep this safe for me, you got that? Keep it safe, all of it.” Charlie lets a hand slide underneath you, caressing your stomach, rubbing circles there.

“Mhm, fill me up.” You nod, so tired, lazy and blissed out, your eyes not even bothering to open.

He pulls out for the second time, but this time he rolls over next to you on the mattress, collects you in his arms as his cock softens. Despite his demands, your thighs grow slippery with an overflow of come, it drips down onto Charlie’s side where you sling a leg over his, tangling your limbs together as you both try and catch your breath.

“Shit.” Charlie huffs out a laugh, a pleasure weak hand coming to scrub up at his face.

“What?” You hum out a smile, kissing his ribs.

“We promised to take Henry to the park after class, remember?” Charlie winds his arms around you, holds you close to him as the birds chirp outside, still morning, still sunny.

“Yeah?” You’re confused, having a bit of trouble to catch his meaning, being so blissed out and comfortable.

“Are you going to be able to walk?” He asks, looking down at you with serious concern.

“Shit.” You echo with a frown, not even thinking about that, before looking back up at Charlie.

The two of you chew your lips for a second, before bursting out into bright happy laughter, especially when he rolls over you and smothers you into the mattress, making you complain playfully that you’re right in the wet spot, dammit!

Oh well, Charlie thinks, he’s got plenty of hours left in the day with with you – hours to make you come, laugh, sigh, shout his name, and recover with time to spare.

---------------------

Hours, laughter and many many orgasms later, you and Charlie shower, change, and are trying desperately to not act so pleased around the rest of the world as you walk through Central Park with Henry. True to his word, Charlie brought everyone to the park after school let out for the day. The weather was perfect for a long walk – or in Henry’s case, a run – down the pathways.

“Dad can we get a dog?” He asks after saying goodbye and thank you to a friendly golden retriever whose owner let Henry pet after he asked politely.

“No I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.” Charlie shakes his head with an apologetic smile, walking so close to you that you might as well be arm in arm, hand in hand. “But you know, maybe in our next house we can get a dog.”

“We’re moving?” Henry asks with a confused arch of his brow.

“Not today or anything, but we’re going to have to move eventually.” Charlie thinks out loud, knowing that they’ve already sort of outgrown their space. Charlie mostly wants to be done with it, with the way it still reminds him of Nicole. “But that’ll be nice, won’t it? We can start fresh and paint the walls any color we want.”

“Can the kitchen be green?” Henry asks the both of you, and Charlie grins, glad for his excitement.

“Sure, why not.” Charlie looks at you with so much love in his eyes, because your kitchen is green, and that’s always been something Henry never shuts up about, whenever you used to babysit him at your place.

“And then can we get a dog?” Henry tries, making you laugh a little at how persistent he could be.

“Maybe if you can prove to me that you’re responsible and will take care of the dog, yes we can get one.” Charlie very hesitantly says, before waving a hand around, “But I’m telling you right now if me or (Y/N) has to pick up the slack it’s not going to happen, okay? That’s not fair.”

“I’ll be responsible I promise! I promise dad.” Henry skips around, making his sneakers light up on the paved path, “I’ll be the most responsible that you’ve ever seen.”

“Okay okay.” Charlie chuckles, and you stop in your tracks, which makes them stop too.

“Hey do you guys smell that?” You look around for a second, “I think we’re right near Pizza Pete’s! I’m starving, how about I get us a couple slices?”

Henry immediately begins jumping around, always thrilled at the prospect of pizza.

“You want any help?” Charlie asks, but you shake your head, knowing it’s only maybe a ten minute walk. You were always such a fast walker, the pizza would be perfectly warm by the time you got back, not so burning hot in the way cheese could sometimes be.

“Nah, I’ll be right back.” You say, adjusting your purse on your shoulder and ruffling Henry’s hair. “Don’t wait up for me, I’ll find you!”

Charlie watches you leave, your boots carrying you down one of the side paths out of the park, leaving just Charlie and Henry together. He knew what you were doing, giving them space like this. You did it sometimes, wanting to make sure you never overwhelmed them with your presence – as if you could ever overwhelm Charlie.

“Hey Henry…” He knows, and he appreciates it, because he’s had something he’s wanted to ask Henry, and he feels that talks like these are easier when it’s just them. “I was hoping you and me could talk for a minute.”

“Oh boy.” Henry groans playfully, and Charlie’s glad that he’s in good spirits, glad he’s in a good mood.

“Hey,” He lightly swats at Henry’s arm as they wander over to an empty bench, sitting down next to each other and watching people go by. “I just. I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay. I don’t want us to have another fight, so I know it’s uncomfortable but I gotta ask and make sure.”

“Yeah, I’m okay dad.” Henry says with a small smile, and Charlie can’t help but feel sad about how fast his son’s had to grow up from all this, how strong he’s had to be in the wake of Nicole’s leave.

“Because if there’s something bothering you, I want you to know you can talk to me, or to (Y/N), or if you feel like you want someone else – ” Charlie starts, but Henry shakes his head, cuts him off at the mere suggestion of a therapist.

“I don’t want anyone else, I’m okay, really.” He nods, putting his hands in his hoodie’s front pocket, his feet swinging from where they don’t quite reach the floor, sitting on the bench. “Are you okay?”

“It’s not your job to worry about me honey.” Charlie gives a soft smile, pats his shoulder.

“I know.” Henry shrugs. He doesn’t look up at his dad, “But I still do.”

Charlie taps Henry’s shoulder to get his attention, and the kid looks so much older than almost-nine, that it kills him.

“I’m okay.” Charlie puts as much sincerity into his words as he can.

“Do you like (Y/N)?” Henry asks out of nowhere, making Charlie freeze.

“…What?” He slowly asks, blinking, trying not to seem suspicious and failing spectacularly.

“You know, like.” Henry looks around to make sure you’re not there, and then he leans over to Charlie, cups a hand over his ear. “Do you like her. Like her like her, I mean.”

“What makes you think that?” Charlie’s heart beats in his throat as he tries to be aloof, frowning, mind racing, palms starting to sweat as a litany of curses string together in his mind, nothing but shit shit shit shit how the fuck does he know does he know did he hear did he see something did he --

“I dunno. You’re happier when she’s around. You’re a really bad pretender dad, it’s embarrassing how much you smile when she’s around.” Henry doesn’t sound accusatory, doesn’t sound angry about it. He sounds embarrassed more than anything, but then he sounds hopeful when he asks, “Things are better with her, I think, aren’t they?”

“I think so. Are you happier when she’s around?” Charlie asks back, because he has to always put Henry first, has to always make sure that Henry’s happiness comes first.

Henry mulls over his words for a little while, and Charlie wonders if it’s hard, trying to express emotions he’s not had the experience for yet, doesn’t have the words for yet.

“Yeah. I miss mom a lot, but (Y/N) is…she’s good, isn’t she? I like her, I like that she’s with us.” Henry says, and there’s an honesty in his voice that has Charlie tearing up, has his heart thud thud thudding in his chest.

“Do you think maybe, one day she could move in with us and be around all the time?” Charlie all but whispers, not believing that he’s even saying these words out loud.

“You do like her!” Henry calls out triumphantly, and Charlie immediately scrambles to pull the brim of Henry’s beanie down onto his face to get him to be quiet, making him laugh.

“Shh!” Charlie tries, but to no avail.

“I knew it.” His son is so smug, so smug that it’s almost unbearable. “You should ask her out, take her on a date.”

He snorts a laugh then, because oh if only this kid knew. Actually, no hopefully he never knows, never finds out the real truth of it all. But damn, what sort of irony was this?

“It’s not that easy Henry.” He settles on eventually, which isn’t a lie, that part.

“How come?” Henry asks, always full of questions, questions that Charlie can’t answer, can’t find some way to sugar coat it for him, can’t find a way to break that fall.

“Because of mom, I’m still married to mom.” He sighs, and Henry frowns, as if he somehow hadn’t realized that.

“Oh.” Henry says very quietly, his face scrunched up the same way it does when he’s come across a word in his books that he doesn’t understand. “But…but if she’s not coming back, then why – ”

“Because she could come back, and she would be very upset if she found out. And it would be very bad if we were upset.” Charlie’s chest pangs with horrible guilt, wishing beyond belief that things were different, that he had any say at all in the separation, in any of this.

But he doesn’t, and life doesn’t ever work out the way anyone wants, and Charlie’s just lucky to have Henry and to have you.

“I still think you should ask her out.” Henry hops off of the bench and holds out a hand, waiting expectantly for his dad to take it, “One day.”

“Okay.” Charlie groans dramatically, pretending to be old and have stiff bones until Henry is laughing again, smiling again. “Maybe one day I will.”

I love you for sentimental reasons I hope you do believe me I've given you my heart

---------------------

A few days go by, since his talk with Henry at the park. It feels good to be even a shred of honest with his son, even though he isn’t really, not fully. He doesn’t know if he ever will, about that. The affair will be one of those dark secrets that you pretend never happened, something you and Charlie will take to your graves.

That little admission, that little truth of liking you feels better to have said out loud. Henry likes knowing, Charlie thinks. He thinks Henry likes having a secret with his dad all their own, so many adults have so many secrets. Charlie doesn’t try to dwell on it too much, tries to keep things light.

But every now and again, Henry will give a smug smile, or an encouraging glance to Charlie when you’re around, and he has to pretend that he’s got no idea what Henry’s on about. You think it’s so endearing, because of course Charlie told you, but you’re good, you play along and pretend to be none the wiser.

Charlie is dropping Henry off at school once again, checking his coat, his laces. The bell has rung, and Henry’s friends are waiting, and in his backpack are birthday invitations of Henry’s own, a weekend party at the go-kart place that Henry is so excited about.

“Have a good day honey!” Charlie waves to Henry as he bounds up the steps.

“Bye dad – love you!” Henry calls over his shoulder as he meets up with his pals.

“Love you too I’ll be here to pick you up right after class, okay?” Charlie keeps waving, until a twinkling laugh grates his ears. He turns and sees a woman sticking her hands into her coat pockets. Charlie collects himself and stands up from the crouched position he’d been in to hug his son and asks, “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just sweet. Don’t see many handsome single fathers dropping the kids off these days.” The woman is clearly trying to pull something, trying to flirt. “Definitely don’t see many kids shouting out I love yous.”

“I do my best.” Charlie tries his best not to grimace, the last thing he wants is a war with someone on the PTA or something.

“You’re Charlie Barber, right? I recognize you from the newspaper. Broadway, or something right?” She smiles at him, tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear in a way that he thinks is supposed to be alluring.

“Or something.” Charlie mutters, looking around, trying to find some escape. He sees the little coffee shop, the one he brought Henry to, the one he used to bring you to too. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He crosses the street just in time before the little red hand begins to flash, and he thinks he’s safe behind the security of the glass door as it closes behind him, when instead he’s faced with a ghost in front of him.

“Oh my god.” He can’t help himself from saying, stunned, trying to blink away this apparition.

“Hi Charlie.” She says, and he almost can’t look at her, his stomach immediately churning.

“What the fuck are you doing here.” He feels his knees start to give out from under him, before he completely registers some tall strong and handsome LA meat-head standing next to her, his mouth going dry, mind spiraling, reeling, panicking, “Who the fuck is he?”

“I’m here to give you these.” The man says, handing over a manilla folder filled with what has to be divorce papers.

“And I’m here to take my son.” She says just as coldly, as casually.

And Charlie wants to scream and shout and rage and throw a fucking fit, because for the first time in six months, he’s standing in front of Nicole.

---------------------

Tagging some pals! @steeevienicks @heldcaptivebychaos @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler @whiskey-bumblebee @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware @elfieboxcat @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker @goodboybensolo @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy @disaster-rose @hazydespair @yosoymuyloca @1-800-choke-that-snoke @ktellmeastory @anongirl007 @zimmerxman @okk--maaan @flapjacques @aweirdlookingtree @callmemania-pls @theold-ultraviolence @og-selene @pinkmoontribe-blog @schopenhauerdeathsquad

#charlie barber x reader #charlie barber/reader #marriage story #adam driver marriage story #adam driver character #charlie barber x you #charlie barber/you #charlie barber imagine #charlie barber fanfic #charlie barber smut #charlie barber fluff #charlie barber angst #my writing #mind and soul

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lochsides · 4 years ago

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Fearless (Taylor's Version) Review

Never did I think that I would have the chance to listen to one of the most formative albums of my childhood for the first time, twice. Never did I imagine myself filled with so much undiluted joy when Fearless (Taylor’s Version) was announced. One thing I have learned in the past 13 years since I heard Love Story on the radio for the first time is to never underestimate Taylor Swift. Fearless is such a special album to me because it is how I discovered Taylor, and in turn made incredible friendships. It was such a nostalgic feeling, listening to Taylor’s Version.

I was 11 when the original album was released. I didn’t think to write down my opinions about art that impacted me, and ultimately shaped me, so this is going to be a very long post. That’s also why it took me a week to gather my thoughts coherently. Below the cut is a full 26 song track-by-track review of Fearless (Taylor’s Version), but the summary is: I love it more than I did in 2008 and I am so proud of Taylor for reclaiming her art. She has always been a game changer. I hope this makes everyone more aware.

My favourite tracks are the same as they have always been — Breathe, The Way I Loved You, You’re Not Sorry, Untouchable — but with the addition of the brilliant From The Vault tracks. Don’t You is my favourite.

Fearless — Immediately on the first listen, I could pick of the improvement on the audio quality. The production is cleaner in this streaming era of music. Fearless feels new right off the bat, but it sounds just about the same. Taylor’s vocal sits more comfortably in the song, indicative of her maturity as a singer. This rings true for all of the album but because this is the first track, I think it’s more palpable here.

Fifteen — To me, Taylor’s Version of Fifteen sounds so similar to the original. It’s remarkable how well she has replicated this track. Somehow this song feels more personal to her story than it has ever before. Hearing her 31-year-old self sing “in your life you’ll do things greater than dating the boy on the football team” actually gave me chills.

Love Story — When she released her new version of Love Story, the changes in her vocal were almost indiscernible if I hadn’t already been so intimately familiar with the original song. This was the first Taylor song I had ever heard and it will always have such a special place in my heart. Hearing her version of it, rededicated to her fans, was so heartwarming. It still hits almost 13 years later.

Hey Stephen — The vocal quality on Hey Stephen (Taylor’s Version) is far better than the original. Her voice sounds fuller, richer, throughout the song, and less pitchy. It makes the song even more pleasing to listen to. Strangely though, her vocal maturity doesn’t necessarily make her sound older on these songs. With a song like Hey Stephen, I think that youthfulness is essential and she managed to replicate that in her new performance.

White Horse — I know I said that Love Story introduced me to Taylor but White Horse was the song that made a fan of me. So when I say this song sounds better than before, I really mean it. The production is more refined. Her vocal is smoother and it sounds so similar to the original in the chorus but it’s in the verses that you can easily detect the differences. Unlike Hey Stephen, she does sound older on this track but it lends itself to that, the disillusionment of fairytales.

You Belong With Me — YBWM is another song that sounds so similar to the original that if I wasn’t so familiar with the song, I wouldn’t be able to describe the differences. It’s also one we’ve all heard her song so often live that it all melds into one. The productions sounds almost the exact same same. Also her country accent that’s somehow both there and not.

Breathe — Okay so time to get real here, I nearly cried by the time Breathe started playing. This has been one of my favourite songs of hers for over a decade. It made me so emotional to know that she is reclaiming it. I connect this version of this song to her experience with how things ended with BMR. The essence of this song is loss.

Tell Me Why — A lot of people talked about how much her vocals had improved on Tell Me Why and that the song sounds so much better now, but to me it’s probably one of the best replications on Taylor’s Version. It sounds the exact same as it did 13 years ago. That’s not to say her vocal hasn’t improved. She uses it very strategically. I think this song is underrated and being re-exposed to it in this new way made people appreciate it more.

You’re Not Sorry — Taylor’s vocal maturity hit me differently on this track. Her voice sounds chilling in the way she evokes the emotion of the song. Every note she hits is more balanced. You’re Not Sorry is probably the song I feel sounds the most different. This might just be because it’s one of my favourite songs that I can so easily pick it apart. Regardless, it is beautifully sung.

The Way I Loved You — I was probably the most excited to hear her remake The Way I Loved You, and boy did she improve on the quality of her vocal on this song. She sounds more effortless singing this song on Taylor’s Version. The production is also cleaner on this version. The instruments are more distinct. It’s subtle improvements that really take it up a notch, while remaining the same song I fell in love with.

Forever & Always — The new production on this song makes it soooo much better than the original. I won’t lie, Forever & Always has never really stood out to me that much. Taylor’s Version does. The guitar solo is less overpowering. Her high notes are more seamless. I like this version far more than the original.

The Best Day — I know this is a special song to Taylor and there is almost an extra softness to her voice singing it this time. I can hear her smiling when she sings “God smiles on my little brother”. There is so much warmth throughout.

Change — Tell me it’s not iconic that she used the lyric “it was the night things changed” to announce that Fearless (Taylor’s Version) had dropped when she wrote Change about being on an independent label. Power move!

Jump Then Fall — One of the most beautiful things about rediscovering an album is getting to look at it with a new perspective and gain a new appreciation of certain songs. That’s Jump Then Fall (Taylor’s Version) for me. I would say this is the biggest grower from 2009. I can’t quite discern what it is about Taylor’s Version that makes me enjoy this song more but I do. I guess it goes back to the subtle improvements she has sprinkled across the album.

Untouchable — I think any song in which Taylor has any high notes sounds better on Taylor’s Version but Untouchable really showcases it. Her vocal is so much smoother and airier, the transitions between notes so much smoother. It lends itself beautifully to the song.

Forever and Always (Piano Version) — Taylor emotes differently on this version to the original, which I think sounds sadder. Perhaps this is due to the fact that she’s trying to emulate the old version. What it all comes down to is that the song sounds the very similar to the original but feels different. Her vocal delivery and the piano accompaniment are still beautiful.

Come In With The Rain — The instrumentation on CIWTR (Taylor’s Version) is so crystal clear. That is a testament to new production. Taylor’s vocal projection is also much stronger. It makes the song feel grander than it did before.

Superstar — I think Superstar is another of those songs that she did an incredible job of reproducing. Her vocal sits comfortably in the song. This song makes me miss concerts so much in this pandemic world we’re all living in. I have always been very fond of this song.

The Other Side Of The Door — When I tell you all I wanted from Taylor’s Version of Fearless was to hear her sing the outro of The Other Side Of The Door with her 2021 vocals, it is no exaggeration. And Taylor did not disappoint. I fucking love this song. It is so full of energy and life.

Today Was A Fairytale — I was surprised to see this on the tracklist for Fearless (Taylor’s Version). I believe she will be remastering every song in her BMR catalogue. Her voice is fuller on the verses and the chorus sounds exactly as I remember it from years ago. Her vocal strength better complements the production and those heavy drums. She isn’t straining as much.

You All Over Me — I think this was the perfect song to introduce the Vault tracks with. It fits perfectly within where her music is now while maintaining the integrity of the original demo. I really like this song. Maren’s backing vocal sounds great on it. Also the lyric “no amount of freedom gets you clean”??? Need I say more?

Mr. Perfectly Fine — It’s the teen angst for me in this track. I love how petty this song is, truly. It’s so quintessentially Fearless, in its subtext but also in the genre. It has that melding of country and pop that she was beginning to explore at this stage.

We Were Happy — I was so excited when I figured out the words “we”, “were” and “happy” from that chaotic video Taylor posted. I have loved this song for actual years. It’s the exact sound for which I fell in love with Taylor’s music (see White Horse). The lyricism in this song follows that storytelling structure that I think she shines with. I honestly feel with the way that it was produced, it could’ve just as easily fit onto evermore.

That’s When — The first thing I noted when listening to this song was the change in perspective. I wonder why she did it, but I am absolutely not complaining. Keith Urban really made this song for me. I love how he sounds on it. His vocal complements Taylor’s so well. That’s When is very catchy.

Don’t You — I can’t decide what my favourite aspect of this song is. The songwriting, the vocals, the layering, the production. This is just *chef’s kiss*. I love how I can hear Jack Antonoff in the production, especially in those drums. I would say it’s the most pop-leaning song on Fearless (Taylor’s Version), but it doesn’t feel out of place. Don’t You encompasses all of my favourite aspects of Taylor’s music.

Bye Bye Baby — The original demo “The One Thing” has been one of my most played unreleased songs over the past decade. Bye Bye Baby feels so much like a brand new song, with all the changes she made, but still coated in the nostalgia of something so familiar. The production is more intricate, the lyric changes add more depth, the vocal inflections complement this new version. I feel like this song is so indicative to me of her growth as a songwriter and performer.

#reviews #taylor swift #fearless #taylor's version #music #ts

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itsjuliak5 · 4 years ago

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I watched Episodes 1 - 3 of “Outer Banks” and I did a little review because I couldn’t help myself.

I finally watched “Outer Banks” way late and I’m doing a review because I can’t help myself lol, I like doing little reviews.

Also I watched the first four episodes with my friend on Halloween because neither of us had seen it before, so my usual “notes style” reviews where I list my reactions as they happen, it’s more of a summarized thing and everything is sort of out of order.

* SPOILERS for Episodes 1- 3 of Season 1 of “Outer Banks” below *

~~~

- First and foremost: Pope is the best character and that is not up for debate.

- My friend and I both sort of wished that Sarah was secretly into witchcraft or something, just because it was Halloween when we watched it, so we were in a spooky mood, and we also thought it would make Sarah, along with the plot, a little more interesting. And my other friend who had watched it when it first came out said this show was like “Stranger Things” so I was hoping for that to be a connection to her “Stranger Things” comparison by having a character be into witchcraft or something supernatural. Ummm yeah I don’t think this show is gonna end up like “Stranger Things” at all, I don’t know where she got that comparison from 🤣.

- I do like Sarah though, she seems nice and almost like a realistic character in this sort of outlandish story.

- My friend and I both thought Kie was a little annoying, but I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt that she’ll improve in the coming episodes. She does seem like a sweetheart.

- By the way when John B went to return the tanks to the boat and Sarah was there because the boat had AC, John B didn’t close the door behind him when leaving the boat and for some reason that annoyed my friend and I so much🤣

- I love Adina Porter who plays Sheriff Peterkin! I’m so happy she’s getting more mainstream roles!

- I do not understand boat terms. Neither did my friend, so when they started spouting off boat terms and brands and what not we were very confused.

- Please tell me that child’s name isn’t actually “Wheezie.”

- Sarah’s dad and family and what not got mad at John B. for stealing the tanks and using all of the air in them BUT when he stole the tanks, he said they had almost no air in them so why didn’t John just say that when confronted about it? (or he did and my friend and I missed it because we were joking around a bit)

- Why are they always shirtless or wearing shirts where only like the bottom buttons are buttoned?

- JJ was definitely a leashed child, he is a nutcase but I kinda love it (@krugstrash has told me he gets better and that he’s a whole meal, which I’m looking forward to🤣). I am anticipating a really sad and traumatic backstory from JJ. I already vaguely know about a really sad hot tub scene that comes up in a later episode.

- Speaking of JJ, he should not have a gun. And when he did need it, he left it in the wrong spot. ALSO JJ did not need to kill that rooster. Roosters and chickens make lots of noise and they were making lots of noise before those two bad guys showed up, so why was it suddenly a big deal that they were making noise and that the bad guys were suspicious of those noises?? Like they’re roosters, it would be more suspicious if they just abruptly stopped making noise.

- They’re treating John B’s compass like it’s Jack Sparrow’s compass from “Pirates of The Caribbean.” Which like maybe it is, I don’t know I’m only episode 4.

- My friend and I were roasting the title cards and how they looked like they were made with Microsoft Word pixel art and someone had fun using the gradients on that.🤣

- Also do they have to call John B, “John B” the whole time? Was John A taken? It seems like he’s the only guy named “John” in town so what’s the specification of “John B” because it’s a tad annoying🤣 I know his dad called him ‘Bird’ but still.

- Finally, I feel like the first 3 episodes could have been cut to like 2 episodes or the episode length could have been shortened to maybe like 45 minutes each instead of 50+ minutes? I don’t know but like a lot of the stuff that went down was more of the same with those two bad guys chasing the Pogues plus the mini scavenger hunt and just introducing everyone.

Overall I give the first 4 episodes a collective: 6.3/10

To clarify: I don’t hate this show at all! I’m very much intrigued to find out how this all ends and all of what I just said is just my opinion (plus my friend’s).

#these are just my opinions no hate intended #julia watches tv #julia reviews things #outer banks #tv shows #tv review

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sheliesshattered · 4 years ago

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This Isn’t A Ghost Story extras for Chapter 7: The Museum

The penultimate chapter of This Isn’t A Ghost Story has been posted! It’s here on Tumblr and here on AO3. Lots of pictures, explanations, and a few spoilers below the cut. The extras follow the flow of the chapter, so it’s safe to follow along with this post as you read, if you like.

Chapter 7 is named for and takes place in the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities in Cairo. This is the same location where Clara and the Doctor first met in 1921, as detailed in the journal entries in chapter 3 and some of Clara’s recovered memories in chapter 4. The museum was originally built in 1901, and besides a few modernizing improvements over the years, it hasn’t changed much since then. Here’s a postcard depicting the museum while it was being built:

And the museum as it appears today in modern Cairo:

The interior of the museum hasn’t changed much either, and a few of the larger artifacts haven’t even been moved since they were originally put in place for the opening in 1902.

Here’s a short walk-through video of both the entrance and the interior of the museum, showing what it looked like in 2017. The new Grand Egyptian Museum was supposed to open in the spring of 2020, but has been pushed back to at least 2021 because of the Covid-19 pandemic. For Ghost Story I decided to skip right over 2020 and assume that by May 2021, the original Cairo Museum will still be open to the public, whether or not GEM has finally opened.

Clara asks the Doctor if he remembers what she wore to that black-tie party in 1921, and I have to imagine it was something like her dress from Mummy On The Orient Express:

This amazing dress from 1925 is also a strong contender.

While the Cairo Museum doesn’t have a reproduction of the tomb of Thutmose III like I described in this chapter (and, in fact, until the new museum opens, the Cairo Museum is far too crowded with artifacts to be able to devote an entire room to Thutmose III), that specific burial chamber has been recreated at a museum in England, with stunning attention to detail:

Comparing it to the original tomb in the Valley of the Kings, you can see how accurately they’ve reproduced it:

Clara comments on the star ceiling, photographed in the original tomb here:

Which, as the Doctor notes, is a common feature in a lot of 18th dynasty and other New Kingdom architecture, and in This Isn’t A Ghost Story connects directly with Clara’s star sapphire wedding ring:

Those of you who have followed me here on Tumblr the last few months may have heard me yell about the tomb of Thutmose III before, and in particular the art depicting the Amduat aka The Twelve Hours of the Night. What Clara describes as “stylised stick figures” is in fact what the walls of the burial chamber are absolutely covered in, and I cannot overstate my love for it. I mean:

I love this art style, possibly more than anything else in all of ancient Egyptian art. I love how stylized and timeless it is, I love that it’s used to tell a complex story that is part of an even more complex funerary tradition. I love the sweeping lines and tiny bits of shading, I love the little upturned toes of their shoes and the tiniest hint of hand shapes. I love their skinny little arms and skinny little legs, oh my god. The fact that this is a real 3500 year old work of art constantly boggles my mind.

The reproduction of the tomb of Thutmose III at Bolton’s museum in England also has a short video that retells the story of the Amduat in gorgeous stylized animation, following the recently deceased pharaoh as he joins Ra on his journey through the underworld to rebirth, if you would like a more complete idea of what the wall art is depicting.

The Twelve Hours of the Night poem Clara quotes is credited to the poet William Ashbless, the less about whom is said the better. But if your curiosity compels you (and I certainly hope it does), I do highly recommend Tim Powers’ excellent novel The Anubis Gates. Tim Powers is possibly my all-time favorite author, and a huge influence on all of my writing. This Isn’t A Ghost Story is quite definitely the most Powers-esque thing I’ve ever written, and was probably influenced most specifically by The Anubis Gates, Declare, and The Stress of Her Regard. Finding a way to work in a subtle nod to both Ashbless and The Anubis Gates felt fitting and highly amusing to me.

My long-standing love for the Amduat was an early part of the development of this story, coming right on the heels of deciding to give the Doctor a background in Egyptology. I spent a fair part of mid-June digging into research on the Amduat, reading every little scrap about it that I could wring out of the internet. On June 19th -- three months ago this weekend -- all of that research quite suddenly solidified into this chapter, which at the time I figured would be chapter 6, before chapter 5 up and decided to split into two chapters.

Using the twelve hours of the night as the linchpin for the happy ending I wanted for these two really helped solidify and clarify my ideas about how the Doctor functioned as a ghost with regard to sunlight. The sunlight/darkness and day/night theme is really the backbone to the whole story, and is also echoed by the dichotomy of Clara’s wedding ring, which looks like a star in the night sky, but only when viewed in direct sunlight. All of that, from chapter 1 onward and even the story’s title, was leading to this moment, the twist at the end of this chapter.

I wrote the first draft of this chapter in basically one go, beginning to end, which is super unusual for me for any scene, much less an entire chapter. The first version was about 400 words shorter than the final version, and almost all of that growth was in the moment right after the Doctor starts feeling lightheaded. I wanted that sequence to have enough emotional weight, without tipping over into feeling like I was milking it for melodrama. While editing this chapter, Jack said that he thinks there will be a lot of wailing in the comments this week, and I’m very curious to see how that moment will go over for all of you.

Clara and the Doctor have so many exquisite moments of heartbreak in canon that I couldn’t help but borrow from them all heavily here. And as a writer who really enjoys eliciting emotion from the reader as well as communicating the emotions of the characters, I couldn’t resist the urge to make you, my lovely readers, think that I just might take this down the path of tragedy, even if only for a couple of paragraphs. I would say I’m sorry except that I’m really, really not. :D

We’re down to just one chapter to go now, an even shorter epilogue that grew out of some of the research I did for this chapter. I’ll be back next week with the behind the scenes details for that chapter, as well as a few things about the story as a whole, including the full timeline for Clara and the Doctor.

Do you have any questions for me heading into the final chapter? Any behind the scenes details you’d like me to cover? Let me know! ❤️

Extras for Chapter 8: The Temple

#This Isn't A Ghost Story #This Isn't A Ghost Story extras #process thoughts #my writing #Doctor Who #Doctor Who fanfic #Clara and the Doctor

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closetededgy · 5 years ago

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Bards 5e Spellcasting

Now this is a rather big topic and I have a lot of opinions here, in my last post I ranted about the social issues surrounding bards in a party, as well as addressing the seduce the dragon bard stereotype, and by addressing I mean dousing it in alchemists fire and throwing it into the dumpster where it belongs. I’m sorry that I will be comparing the bard to a lot of spellcasters here, but never the Druid, this is because I know literally nothing about the Druid and I think I have never even attempted to read the Druid class, nothing against druids I’ve just never been in the situation to research them. I need to do that actually.

Onto spellcasting we’ll start with the mechanics first and then move into the lore, and then I’ll talk about my pet peeves about bardic spell casting.

the bards spell list, unlike the cleric or wizard, but very much like the warlock and sorcerer, the bard is incapable of preparing their spell list, rather they know a certain amount of spells, and when they level up they can change out one of these spells if they wish. This means your spell choices are incredibly permanent, which is very difficult when you have so many good utility spells like comprehend languages, feather fall, and more, at your disposal. You have a fair amount of spell slots (looking at you warlocks) and an average amount of available and known spells (looking enviously at you sorcerers). Now here’s where it gets wierd. Now 5e did a good job with making spell lists feel good. Like a clerics spell list reflects devotion to a god very well, the wizards reflects years of dedicated and organised study, the warlocks reflects disorganised and unrelated eldritch secrets randomly flitting through your mind (one minute you’re thinking about comprehend languages, the next it’s misty step.) the sorcerer does well to represent raw nearly uncontrollable power, and the bard does well to represent a jack of all trades, an individual who has spent their life picking up tricks to make their life, and the lives of those around them, better. Day to day spells like mending and prestidigitation. However the known spells list is a little underwhelming to me. Specifically preparation. In my opinion bards should prepare spells like wizards, here is my reasoning.

Bards are not sorcerers, they are not warlocks, you know the meme that wizards spent their whole life studying magic only to end up in a group of people that cheated to get theirs, the 2 people with magic sugar daddies, the spoiled rich kid that inherited it, the guy with the “natural talent” the natural talent guy is meant to be the bard in this meme “I just talk really well” is used to describe their magic. That’s innacurate spend literally 2 minutes reading the description of bards in the players handbook “requires hard study” is a direct quote. They didn’t just randomly discover this power, they knew of its existence because they could feel the power in music and words and performance, and they spent years trying to capture that power, to enhance it, within their own work. They’re power isn’t some do a little improv tune and do magic, they’re power is in doing masterworks of art, and the magic coming from this mastery, as such bards should prepare their spells just as a bard might prepare their performance, they aren’t ready to sing or play every performance they know on cue. They have to get into the right state of mind, make sure they have the right tools and understanding. As it stands their known spell list is a retexture of sorcerers when they should be a retexture of wizards, or one all their own like warlocks. (Maybe you can prepare a theme like the way a wizard chooses a school the bard could say “I’m preparing a drama, and that includes some of their damaging spells, maybe some resurrection spells and such, or “I’m prepping comedy” and get charms and illusions and stuff like that. Just a thought if you ever wanted to make a home brew bard class.) but this is the accurate mechanics and lore of the bard even if the mechanics don’t seem to match the lore.

Spellcasting, here’s...a wierd set of things. Bards can perform rituals somehow, I don’t know why and I don’t know how but technically they can, even though their power is meant to come from mastery of performance they can somehow perform ritual so uhhhhhhhh yeah whatever we’re gonna gloss right over that and onto the next wierd part about bardic Spellcasting, now you might not know this but spellcasters don’t need Spellcasting foci, it’s not well detailed in the players handbook but basically a spell foci replaces material costs for spells when the material cost has no monetary value. Now the bardic Spellcasting feature specifies that bards may use instruments as Spellcasting foci, which means technically they don’t have to, which brings me to my question how the hell do they perform magic without a focus, they don’t have arcane or eldritch knowledge they can’t just know that they need mistletoe for something, their magic isn’t about physical things (I have this pet peeve about sorcerers too, they have the same wierd phrasing) and also is a voice not an instrument? Because In the lore for bard you demonstrated a bard doing magic by humming. Also does that mean all bard spells have verbal components regardless of the spell and thus any feature that supposedly negates the requirement for verbal components on bard Spellcasting is negated by bard Spellcasting and does that also mean all spells performed with an instrument other than your voice require a somatic component regardless of what the spell specifies or if you have say war caster which says you can perform the somatic component while using a shield, but if the somatic component isn’t a hand gesture but rather an interact action with an instrument that wouldn’t make sense but also why would a bard need to perform an arcane hand gesture to perform a spell when the way they do the spell is already their voice, and you wanna know the lore rich deep answer? Yes. The bard has to do magic just like every other class despite doing magic in a completely different way because mystra, the goddess of magic, said so after mystra, the goddess of magic, died for the ten thousandth time. So basically just don’t treat their Spellcasting any different from anyone elses according to the official rules because that’s just how It Works™️

That’s it that’s bardic Spellcasting, an incredibly disappointing conclusion to the interesting possibilities and questions that trying to cast magic with music brings to the table. Also don’t even talk to me about multiclass spellcasting it’s a fucking mess. And by a fucking mess I mean it works exactly the same which is dumb and stupid and wastes the perfect oppurtunity to give spellcasters fun and distinct Spellcasting styles the same way they have fun and distinct spells. You wanna know something else disappointing? Tieflings have innate spells right? You would think, surely that means they don’t have to do the arcane knowledge stuff wizards do to cast those spells right? Surely it’s almost like Breathing to them right? Surely if they were to learn magic they would be able to incorporate their innate magic to the learned magic so they wouldn’t have to actually learn hellish rebuke as a warlock when they already know hellish rebuke? Well guess what, you’re wrong on all counts, innate Spellcasting still requires the correct hand motions and words, they just know them innately, and they cannot use spell slots to cast them despite the fact that they are casted in the same way so if you’re a tiefling warlock and want to cast more than one hellish rebuke a day have fun wasting one of your known spells on it I know this isn’t bard related but it drives me crazy

Next step talks about the confusion surrounding charming magics

#dnd5e #dnd #bard #little tangent #about warlocks #spellcasting #multiclassing #mystra #forgotten realms #tiefling

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gigsoupmusic · 5 years ago

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INTERVIEW - MICKO WESTMORELAND ON 'VELVET GOLDMINE' AND LIFE WITH THE MELLOTRONICS

Micko Westmoreland first came to the public's attention as the enigmatic Jack Fairey in the star-studded glam rock fake biopic 'Velvet Goldmine', and since then has done everything from making electronica as The Bowling Green to the sharp edged new wave of his current project Micko & The Mellotronics. With that band on the verge of releasing their second single, a double A-side with the timely 'Noisy Neighbours 'and 'You Killed My Father' (featuring the late Neil Innes), he spoke to Gigsoup to tell all... Starting at the beginning, you got your first break appearing in the film ‘Velvet Goldmine’… Quite a baptism of fire! Yep, I was fresh out of film school with little acting experience. So I did a ton of research, suspended all activities other than glam rock ones; late mornings, blurry eyeliner, became a kind of ‘Our Lady of the Flowers’, to quote Jean Genet. I did appear on set however with well prepared sleeve notes. Ziggy/Hunky and early Roxy had been teenage territory. Toni Colette really helped me during filming, showing me where and how to move and stand in frame etc. which I really wasn’t aware of and she was such a wonderful person to hang out with. Ewan McGregor was enormous in the 90s but treated you like a complete equal. I’ve acted the fiction of being a sensational rock star, my embalmed alter ego is now moth balled and hermetically sealed for posterity. What do you make of the film’s recent re-appraisal – it was panned at the time but now it’s considered a cult classic A lot of the film heavyweights liked it at the time and have consistently sung its praises over the last 20 years, which has contributed to its legacy, plus Todd Haynes is now seen as a 24-carat auteur. 1998 wasn’t ready for a kaleidoscopic pansexual odyssey. Velvet Goldmine truly tapped into a teenage hormonal feeling, so the audience is responsible for its longevity I think, people have grown old with it and new fans have discovered it. You had quite a lot of success making electronic music as The Bowling Green but then switched tack to making more song-based stuff. What’s the story there? The music I was making was becoming increasingly filmic, so I moved into movie sound tracks for a while and did two film scores and a few documentaries with my brother; acclaimed director Wash Westmoreland (Still Alice, Colette). One of them, Echo Park L.A., won best drama at Sundance in 2006! I was becoming more attuned to a literary narrative and was listening to Dylan’s Time out of Mind and Beck’s Sea Change at the time – couple that with improvements in technology that weren’t so reliant on sampler and keyboard. I started playing much more guitar again, my first love and now my primary instrument for writing. You made a couple of albums under your own name but then formed Micko & The Mellotronics – your first ‘band’ project. What was the thinking behind that move? I was very much used to working on my own. I made a couple of solo albums, one which Terry Edwards (P.J. Harvey/Holy Holy) released on his Sartorial label called ‘Wax & Wayne’, and ‘Yours Etc Abc’, on my own Landline records imprint, which I believe was the main unconscious projection into putting a live act together. The person doing PR for it asked, ‘Who’s in the band?’ When I realized I didn’t have one, it made sense to look for folk to start pushing sounds around. How would you sum up the band to someone you hadn’t heard you before? Can you name us a few bands that have influenced its sound? We get compared to the Buzzcocks quite a lot, I’ll take that. I’ve loved Magazine since teenage, Television too. I also dig Serge Gainsbourg majorly and bands like The Silver Apples. I’m really into Iso Tomita, the 70’s electronic musician and of course Mr. Eno too. People have commented that the double A side, soon to be released, is like early Genesis but I think it’s much closer to The Rutles. Patrick from R.O.C. said there was violence to the sound. I do pride the writing on an intricacy and eccentricity but without getting prog about it. Talk us through the Mellotronics members and their individual flavours... Nick Mackay a friend referred me to. He was playing in a two-piece called ‘Barricades’, and was clearly a very good drummer, real flare as a player/performer and had the magic ingredient for any band – he was a thoroughly decent chap you could spend a ton of time with. Jon Klein is our very own rock star hiding in plain sight. He has a CV better than the rest of us put together: Banshees, Sinead O’Connor to name a few and of course his own band Specimen. I lent Jon my amp when we were on the same bill. I gave him a copy of my previous album and he contacted me the next day, which I considered a big thumbs up. He’s very quick, obscenely talented and has revolutionized day-to-day working practice. In short a turbo charged V12 engine has been carefully placed inside a Hillman imp, with fresh brake pads added. Vicky Carroll the bassist also came through personal referral, Haydn Hades who does stand up. At the time she was playing in a band the ‘Owls of Now’, a very bright lady indeed. She really got what the band was about and had great style. The dynamic of now the band get on and its chemistry is essential to longevity. Having a woman on board was important to us, so we really lucked out by finding such a smart cookie in Vicky. So far, you’ve shared ‘The Finger’, your first single, and now two new tracks, which will (eventually) be released as a 7” single. Talk us through ‘Noisy Neighbors’ and ’You Killed My Father’. Noisy Neighbours came about from my experience with dealing with serial complainers whilst living in a housing co-op. We shot the video with filmmaker Ashley Jones (www.thechaoesengineers.com) in the next door location the inhabitants of the song were occupying, so we had to be quiet. Of course some complaints are genuine but most were more telling of the complainant than complainee. There are control issues, which come about as a result of trying to micromanage your environment beyond your own four walls. I wanted to make a witty statement about that without being over critical or condemning. Raising a single eyebrow over that type of behavior. ‘You Killed My Father’, the double A side was inspired by Neil Innes R.I.P. (Monty Python, Bonzo Dog, The Rutles). So of course I was thrilled when he agreed to play on it. I was introduced to him through an artist friend Harry Pye. We inadvertly created a supergroup together called the Spammed and meet up once a year to record for the Teenage Cancer Trust. Last session Tony Visconti produced a cover of Bolan’s ‘Get it on’, for us. It comprises, Rat Scabies (The Damned), Horace Panter (The Specials), Neil when he was with us and actor/comedian Kevin Eldon on vocs, I play guitar. The song relates to my childhood, growing up in Leeds and has a Shakespearean quality. I checked the prose with an expert to make sure I hadn’t over egged the pudding. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_5iswf8GG6o You seem to be able to attract some interesting names to collaborate with - Horace Panter of The Specials and the late Neil Innes recently, but also members of The Blockheads, Madness, Stranglers and Goldfrapp in the past. Who would be top of your collaborative wish list? I’d love to do something with Eno again. We became friendly during the mid nineties. I was tutored by him, whilst working on an art show called ‘Self Storage’ with Laurie Anderson but never made it into the studio. A wild card like Wendy Carlos, famed for the soundtrack of ‘A Clockwork Orange’ would be great too. Likewise, your videos have featured some interesting names from British comedy… What do they bring to the party? Anyone else you’d like to get on board if you had free reign? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDr7nkOQN9Q All the comedy connections came from Kevin Eldon initially, a super bright and truly wonderful guy. He introduced me to Paul Putner at a Specials gig. Paul’s a brilliant bloke and really likes the band. He found the remarkable Suzy Kane for us. All three have taken excellent roles. Suzy had a lot of input in Noisy Neighbours, suggesting wardrobe and even shots to Ashley as we were making it; we really have had tremendous fun with our contributors. Obviously, Chris Morris would be fantastic but I’m a little afraid to knock. We hear the debut M&TM album is close to completion – what have you got in store for us? A psychedelic mish mash of fable, sound collage and idea. With the new single, 3 of the songs are now out there. On a musical front Horace Panter out of The Specials has guested on a couple of tracks for us and of course we have one of Neil Innes’ last performances too. I’ve written a song about Imelda Marcos, she seemed like a person who was way ahead of her time, a modern template for a highly manipulative battle-axe. I have an author friend in his 60s who’s an eminent psychologist, (Georg Eifert - Anxiety Happens) so I wrote a song called ‘The Fear’, with a lot of his theories in mind. There’s also one too called ‘Sick and Tired’, it’s not about what I’m eed up about, but like Noisy Neighbours it’s a comment about complaint. When writing I try to look at what gets talked about by everyday people and base some of the songs around those themes. Earwig on phone conversations on buses, pick up discarded bits of paper, when you get into the habit you’ll be amazed what you find. So I get on the 38 and set my brain to record. There’s also a fair amount about growing up on the record too, which I hope all can relate to. I think you have to start with a good idea, that’s on any level otherwise you’re unlikely to get far. From my art college days I got into the habit of noting things down, if you don’t it often escapes you. It’s difficult to marry a multitude of ingredients and let’s face it the world is full of plenty, pair it down and make it resonate. Anyone who tells you otherwise is telling porkies. To make something that stands the test of time is more difficult still. But I’m not afraid of the work and I enjoy ‘the doing’, for me that’s what it’s all about. I believe that as individuals we have a natural tendency to evolve, if we choose to see it that way and trust, it’ll ‘self fulfill’. If you’ll allow yourself to tap into that expansion creatively, you’ll always find inspiration. Micko & The Mellotronics release 'Noisy Neighbours / You Killed My Father' on Landline Records on April 17 with the 7" single schedule to hit the shops on June 27. Read the full article

#MELLOTRONICS

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something-tofightfor · 5 years ago

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Ryan Brenner Headcanon List

This is for my Neon Lights/Just a Place Ryan Brenner.

Tagging: @the-blind-assassin-12 @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @benbarnestongue @lexxierave @suchatinyinfinity @obscurilicious

Enjoy!

Tell me something we should know about him, but you’re worried no one will ask or care or want to know. This is me asking, caring, and wanting to know.

Ryan’s middle name is Abraham. He was born on March 14th, 1985. He’s right handed. He sleeps on his right side or on his stomach when he’s really comfortable, one knee bent, the other leg stretched out. He’s used to sleeping fully clothed - sitting up - but is most comfortable sleeping in a light pair of pajama pants and nothing else.

Ryan’s favorite color is olive green. His favorite ice cream is mint chocolate chip. His favorite meal is chicken and dumplings. Ryan prefers to sleep with a window open, even in the winter, because he’s used to fresh air from the trains. Ryan got his driver’s license the day he turned 16, and though he hasn’t always had insurance, he’s kept the license valid because he knew that he’d need it for potential jobs.

The only foreign country he’s ever been to is Canada, and that was just to get through to Alaska. He wants to go to Mexico and Europe, and getting a passport has always been a dream for him.

The only dollar he’d never spend is the one that was given to him as his first tip, and it’s folded into a teeny tiny square and he keeps it tucked behind a picture of his mom that he has in his wallet.

What was middle school Ryan like? Was he in the band? Did he play trumpet? He’s got the lips for it. Did he play percussion? Was he a good student? Average student with genuine curiosity? Little too concerned with stuff at home to be a student? Did he play baseball? Football? Lacrosse? Did he wear polo shirts? Can he read music?

Middle school Ryan… this is a good one. Ryan was in band - well, he started out in choir, like the rest of the kids, because it was a part of the curriculum, and his mom couldn’t afford to buy or rent him an instrument. He could sing well, and the choir teacher - Ms. Mercer - took a special interest in him, giving him solos in performances and things like that. She caught him one day after school in the music room, sitting in front of the piano, playing random notes… and because she knew that he could sing, asked if he’d ever tried to play the piano.

When he said no, she decided that she was going to help him learn, and offered to teach him after school and during recess - with his mom’s permission, of course. She gave it, and Ryan learned to play the piano slowly but surely over the course of 6th and 7th grade, while also continuing to sing. He learned to read music during this period, too. And because he was really interested, he picked it up very quickly.

Occasionally, he’d play the guitar, too - but he didn’t pick that up until a few years later.

In school, Ryan was a smart, attentive kid. He liked being able to give the right answers to the teachers, liked to learn things, but didn’t like to read much - not because he wasn’t good at it, but because he learns better via hands on experiences. He catches on to things very quickly and retains information.

As he got older, and his home life changed (mom’s new marriage), Ryan’s focus became music instead of academics, because it allowed him to focus on something that he could create, something that would make him feel better.

He was not an athlete in school, but liked to play football with the neighborhood kids - and was always the first person to go in for the tackle, even though he was scrawny and had long legs. By the time he was 13, he’d grown into his speed and was actually very graceful.

Ryan Brenner has never once worn a polo shirt.

What specific thing is sure to be in the fridge and/or pantry when Ryan does the shopping?

Ryan’s not one to go overboard when it comes to grocery shopping, since he’s not used to being able to afford the things he truly enjoys - and is used to buying things that he can easily carry with him/will fill him up when he eats them. He’s used to things like tuna and canned chicken, crackers, protein bars, instant coffee and oatmeal, beef jerky (even though it’s pretty expensive and he only bought it occasionally)... but he’s not picky about his food.

So, now that he has a place to stay and access to a refrigerator, he’s been able to buy some of his favorite things again. He loves grilled cheese sandwiches - they remind him of being little, of the way his mom would always have one waiting for him when he got home from his half days of kindergarten. He’s a huge fan of swiss cheese, but when it comes to the perfect grilled cheese, he’ll usually buy pepper jack or provolone, since they’re super melty.

Along with cheese, another thing Ryan always picks up for the fridge is orange juice - which you’ve caught him drinking straight from the carton.

Pantry foods that Ryan always picks up? Popcorn and chunky peanut butter. Ryan loves salty snacks like pretzels.

Gimme those weird tics. The stuff you notice about him if you spend enough time with him. Does he jingle the car keys when he’s ready to go? Does he only scratch his nose with his thumb or his ring finger? Does he let his teeth click together when he’s thinking hard? I need to know.

Ryan rubs at his eyebrows a lot when he’s thinking hard - or when he’s focused on something, usually with his right hand.

He second guesses his words a lot, because he doesn’t want to speak out of turn or sound foolish, so unless he’s with people he feels really comfortable with, he isn’t usually the one to start the conversation.

He always puts his right shoe on first, and double knots the laces before he tucks them into the tops of his boots.

Ryan double checks the locks on the doors when he leaves the house.

He chews on his nails occasionally, but never actually bites them off. He hums to himself a lot.

He doesn’t sneak up on people.

When Ryan texts, he always uses punctuation, but doesn’t always use full sentences.

Though he can focus on things intently, little things often catch his attention - hearing music from across the store, the way things are organized, the intricacies of other people’s talents (the details in your pictures, the way people create art, the ingredients in food) - and he’s not afraid to question people about these things when he’s interested. It makes him forget that he doesn’t want to interrupt, because he wants to learn about what makes other people happy.

When did he start playing music? Why? What did he think would come from it? Was it always a dream to record or did he simply jump at the opportunity like a train he knew he wouldn’t catch a second time?

He started playing the piano in school, and started playing guitar at home. His dad has a cheap old acoustic guitar, and Ryan would (at the age of 12/13) come home from school and make sure no one was home before he’d pick it up and strum it. He didn’t know what he was doing at first, but he liked feeling the connection to the father that he could barely remember.

He wrote his first song - about his neighbor’s dog barking at night - at the age of 12. His mom caught him playing the guitar one day when she came home from work early, and at first she was surprised, but when she saw that he was treating the instrument with respect, she allowed him to play it… and he never tried to keep it secret again.

He started playing for fun, because he enjoyed the piano and singing, and wanted to see if he could learn something else, too - and it turns out that he could. After he left home and started traveling by train, he found the Washburn in a pawn shop, forked over his last bit of cash for it, and it became his best friend. Ryan taught himself to play guitar during the long, empty hours on the trains, moving between cities in the dark. He played in gas station parking lots and empty parks.

He never really thought about recording until after he was already on the road and found Cowboy and Virginia. He just liked playing. When he met Georgie, he started thinking about what it would be like to record, to have a copy of his vocals and playing. By the time he was 21, he’d been on the road for just under 6 years and had improved his playing to the point where he was almost constantly thinking about his own music… but not out loud, because the people he played with weren’t consistent, and he never felt as if he was good enough to sing and play his own stuff without a backing band.

I wanna know something he’s passionate about. When he gets goin’ he won’t shut up. Or maybe something that makes him really angry. Like a good righteous anger, you know?

Not being taken seriously is one of the things that Ryan is very quick to get upset about. He’s more than just the way he looks - and people usually won’t take the time to get to know him. They hear him playing, see his face, think he’s just another good looking guy that wants to be famous, and don’t try to get to know him or see past what his appearance says. It frustrates him that he’s typecast, because he tries not to judge people based on the way that they look.

That’s one of the reasons that he’s so unwilling to speak a lot when he first meets someone. He’s used to people not hearing him or not caring what he’s got to say that he figures it’s best to say what he has to and nothing more. He’s got a lot to say, though, especially if it’s a topic he cares about - like encouraging others. Ryan HATES when people try to limit people, and will talk himself blue about why they shouldn’t hold back when they want something just because someone else told them they couldn’t or shouldn’t do it. (Which is funny because he held back on writing and playing his own stuff for so long.) He thinks that people should do what makes them happy and fulfilled, and will always go out of his way to help people out when they need it most, even at the expense of his own feelings.

I wanna know his mama’s name and what he misses about her and something he learned from her that is still a part of him.

Laura Mason met Ryan’s dad James Brenner when she was twenty, got pregnant at 21, and had Ryan just before she turned 22. Unfortunately, James got into an accident at work when Ryan was four, leaving Laura and Ryan alone. Luckily, they got a small settlement, and it was enough to keep the household afloat while she raised Ryan. She met her second husband, Thomas, when Ryan was seven, and for the first few years, things were great… until they weren’t anymore, and Thomas started abusing both of them - Laura verbally, and Ryan physically. (Ryan was always very grateful that Thomas’ anger was directed at him and not Laura, and he gladly took the punches so his mom didn’t have to.)

Ryan misses his mom’s hugs, and the way she always made time to tuck him in at night, even when she was working 2nd shift and had to come home on her lunch breaks to do so - telling him a different thing that she loved about him before she turned off the lights. Unfortunately, this stopped right around the time Ryan turned 10, and Thomas thought that it was “unnecessary” for her to “coddle her kid”.

The thing that sticks with him the most is something that she told him when he started to go to school. They were on the couch, right before she met Thomas, and when he thinks about it, he can still feel her arms wrapped around him, smell her perfume. She told him “Don’t compare yourself to anyone else, Ryan. No one else is going to make the same impression on the world as you are.” Another thing she made very clear to him? Being respectful of the people around you is IMPERATIVE, even when they don’t give you the same consideration.

Does Ryan have any guilty pleasures? What’s something he misses when he’s traveling? How does he feel about feet? What’s something he’s really picky about?

Ryan’s guilty pleasure is long, hot showers. He misses the feeling of being clean when he travels, and no matter how broke he was, two things that he always made sure to have in his pack were deodorant and a decent shampoo. Since he doesn’t like to cut his hair, he always wants it to look as clean as possible, even when he can only spend a few minutes under the water. He knows what people think of people like him, so he wants to do what he can to ensure that he doesn’t fit the stereotype - and always tries to at least smell nice, even if his clothes are worn and his hands aren’t totally clean..

Ryan’s other guilty pleasure is ice cream. He doesn’t really like sweet stuff, but he’s a sucker for ice cream and will never turn it down, which is why he was so excited for the gelato in Vegas.

I want the story of his first meeting with cowboy. Why he hasn't tried to make his own music? his favorite city to visit and why? what is a must he carries in his pack?

The first time he met Cowboy, he actually met Virginia first. Virginia heard him playing guitar and singing, and stopped to talk to him. She asked him to play something for her, and he got a little cocky - which she laughed at. She recognized that Ryan was alone and needed some guidance or he wasn’t going to last too long out on his own, and offered to introduce him to Cowboy, her ‘good friend’ (they weren’t together yet… just traveling together). Ryan met Cowboy and they instantly clicked.

Though they didn’t stay together at all times, the majority of the next few years was spent traveling together, playing music and making connections before they went their own ways. Cowboy and Virginia introduced Ryan to more of their friends - Kenny, Georgie, a woman named Jen that Ryan always stayed with in Arizona because she reminded him of his mom - and Cowboy even mentioned the fishing gig in Alaska, sending Ryan up north for the first time. Cowboy (and Virginia) were Ryan’s closest friends for many years, and Ryan even stood in as best man when they got married by a woman they met in Louisiana. The ceremony wasn’t exactly legal, but it was enough for Ginny and Cowboy, and Ryan was honored to be asked to be there with them for the most important day of their lives.

Ryan’s always been very shy about writing and whether or not he actually possesses the talent to create his own music. No one specifically told him not to write or play his own stuff, just that he was more likely to be successful playing tried and true hits. Cover bands are much more likely to get booked and find work than original ones, so Ryan was more focused on making a living than he was about forging a path based on the things that he came up with. He’s always written stuff, but never thought that it was any good. PLUS, he didn’t have anyone super consistent to play with, which made it difficult to ever fully realize his music with anything more than his own vocals and guitar.

He loves visiting the southwest. Likes being in the desert, seeing the sand and the cliffs, loves the heat and the culture. He loves El Paso, because of the people and the vibe - and the food. Ryan LOVES Mexican food.

Along with his deodorant and shampoo, Ryan’s always got to have a notebook and a pen with him, just in case. Even though the recorder took over for the lyrical stuff, he still wrote things down quite a bit - putting pen to paper calms Ryan down. A lot of the things that he had in the pack that got stolen in Utah - letters, pictures - were stuff from home, stuff that he had sent to some of the more ‘established’ friends that he picked up as he passed through places - were really sentimental, but living like he did, it was best to only keep the essentials. His hat, though? That’s something that he got as a teenager, and it’s the only thing that he has to tie himself back to his home.

Tell me his favorite song to listen to that he would never cover because “it’s perfect how it is”

He’s got a couple. Creedance Clearwater Revival “Have You Ever Seen the Rain”, “One Headlight” by The Wallflowers (he loves the song, but thinks that Bob and Jakob Dylan can’t be touched vocally and won’t even try). He’s always very apprehensive about The Beatles and even “Hallelujah” is a song that he’s only going to pull out when he’s sure that he can nail it. Ryan strives to be authentic in everything that he plays and sings, so if he’s not feeling it, he won’t do it.

Listening to music in headphones or filling the house with it? Does he like Reader in dresses or jeans? Which movies do we watch curled up on the couch? How does he eat his steak? Would he go back to school?

He likes to listen to music, no matter how he does it. Now that he’s not traveling anymore, he likes to lisen so that it fills the whole house - usually on the radio, or through your laptop/computer. You’ve got a smart speaker in the bedroom, so he uses that a lot. But when he got his new phone, the first thing he did was put a bunch of music on it, so when he’s relaxing (and you’re not home) or he’s out walking or in public, he’ll use headphones and get lost in the music. For Ryan, a lot of the things that people take for granted are still pretty new and exciting to him - like having a portable way to play music.

It’s been warm whenever he’s been with you, so he hasn’t really seen you in long pants often, aside from leggings when you’re lounging around the house. He likes dresses better than shorts, but isn’t going to complain much about anything you wear, because he just likes looking at you.

Ryan enjoys comedies. Though he’d treat himself to an occasional dollar movie or cheap matinee, he’s kind of behind when it comes to new releases… so he’s definitely not opposed to curling up on the couch and binging Netflix - popcorn in hand.

Ryan’s definitely a meat and potatoes guy. He likes his steak rare to mid rare, burgers mid rare. He doesn’t like to overcook things, because the taste changes dramatically. However… when he eats grilled hotdogs? He likes them to be kinda crispy on the outside for that well-grilled taste. Ryan’s determined to learn how to grill properly, especially because it means that he can cook for you.

He’d go back to school, but it’s not really on his radar right now - he just wants to focus on getting used to a more settled life without worrying about taking on a ton more responsibility, especially since he’s working a few jobs at the moment.

Should he get a dog? Is he considering having kds someday? Favorite drink? Christmas or birthday? Does he watch sports? His pet peeves? Is there any part of his body he doesn’t like to be touched?

Ryan never really thought about having pets, because of the way he lived before. Traveling didn’t allow him to take another living thing with him. And with your schedule - the fact that you’re never really sure when you’ll be leaving also makes it difficult. A cat would be easier to handle for both of you, but at this time, pets aren’t on the horizon.

Kids… are not something Ryan’s thought seriously about. He doesn’t mind them, gets along well with them, and doesn’t have any issues with them, but again, his lifestyle wasn’t really kid friendly before.

His favorite drink is coffee.

He likes Christmas better than his birthday.

He doesn’t really watch sports, because he’s never had the opportunity to sit and follow a season or a team before, but he’ll pay attention to baseball or football when he’s in bars and they have the games on.

Ryan’s biggest pet peeve is being cut off while talking. He doesn’t like people who act like they know everything. He hates when people leave lights on in rooms that they aren’t in. He doesn’t like when people waste food. He doesn’t like people that seek attention. He doesn’t like when people ignore others - not letting them voice an opinion, not taking them seriously, etc. He hates when people go out of their way to make others feel guilty.

The only place that Ryan doesn’t really like to be touched is his feet - and there’s no reason behind it other than that he knows that he’s almost constantly wearing shoes (or was when he was traveling) and doesn’t want to subject people to that, especially if it’s been a while since his last shower.

What is his morning routine? Zodiac sign? A story of his first kiss? Any allergies? Favorite Avenger?

I talked about his morning routine in JaP 5. He gets up, stretches, and has his coffee, this is the same thing that he did on the trains, but now he’s gotten to know (and love) the Keurig so much that he doesn’t remember what it’s like to not have one.

Since his birthday is March 14, he’s a Pisces.

His first kiss was when he was 15 with a girl named Erin that was a year older than him and lived four houses down the street. Her friend thought Ryan was cute and dared her to kiss him thinking that she wouldn’t do it - but Ryan was VERY into girls at that time, and thought Erin was super cute so he had no problem kissing her back.

He does not have any allergies that he is aware of.

Ryan’s favorite Avenger is Spiderman, because he’s just a regular kid that finds out that he can do good for the people that he cares about.

He’s not huge on comic books, though, and was much more into Saturday morning cartoons as a kid. He loved the Ninja Turtles when he was a kid, and also really liked Inspector Gadget.

Ryan’s Tattoos

Ryan’s got a lot of ink, and will probably end up with more. For starters, here are the two that we *know* he’s got: the bird on his arm and the lines and dots on his fingers.

The bird tattoo on his arm (I believe it’s a hummingbird based on the wings and the glimpses we see of it throughout the movie) is for his mom. It reminds him to be open to and accepting of change, to pursue his dreams and to remember that small, simple ideas can become great things in time. ALSO. The hummingbird, to Ryan is a constant reminder that his mom was there - and she loved him - and that he’s got to do what he needs to do in order to create his own happiness. He got it as soon as he turned 18 and it was his first tattoo.

The lines and dots on his fingers were done by a teenage Inuit girl in Alaska while Ryan was up there working on the fishing boat. She was learning to tattoo, and wanted to practice, and even though looking back, it probably wasn’t a good idea to get hand tattoos while in such a cold environment, he got them between trips, when the boat was docked for a little over a week for repairs and to unload. The girl that he got them from was very shy and unsure of her skills, and in an attempt to raise her confidence level, Ryan volunteered to be her test subject. They were the second tattoo that he got.

The third one is the tattoo on his ribcage - it’s the constellation Lynx (see attached image) - but also included below and to the right of the center of the constellation is NGC-2419, which is a deep sky object referred to as “The Intergalactic Wanderer”, and is one of the objects in the Milky Way that is furthest from the center of the galaxy - and is 275,000 light years away from our solar system. It’s lonely, and it’s separated from the rest of the galaxy, but it’s still a part of everything, and it’s kind of how Ryan views himself vs. the rest of the world - but it’s visible in areas that don’t have a lot of light pollution, and Ryan saw it often when he was in Alaska, on the boat… and has even been able to find it sometimes using telescopes or binoculars while on the trains or in the desert.

He’s got a tattoo on the back of his shoulder, too. It’s a geometric design, roughly 6-7 inches in size, and is a mess of lines and dots and circles. The story behind this one is actually a lot of fun - and Ryan won’t hesitate to talk about it, even though it features a woman, it’s not what you might think.

When he was 28, Ryan was staying in Chicago with Georgie and some other friends, and ended up going out with a large group. Someone in the group wanted to get a tattoo, but no one wanted to go to the shop with him. Ryan went, thinking it would be a good way to pass the time, since it was snowing pretty heavily outside. So he went to the shop, and the girl doing the tattoo for his buddy Sean couldn’t keep her eyes off of Ryan the whole time, which led to a conversation about his tattoos. After explaining to her that he had a few, but hadn’t had the money to get any new ones for a few years, she offered to give him a tattoo - in exchange for a date. He agreed, and they went out (twice), had a good time and she designed the tattoo for him and did it in the shop after they were closed one night. He looked her up the next time he was in Chicago, but she didn’t work at the tattoo place anymore, and he didn’t have any other way of finding her.

The other tattoo is the one on his wrist of the Bellagio fountain coordinates, and getting it allowed him to have a lasting, meaningful connection with you, even though he never thought he was going to see you again. The way you felt about your parents and having that date on your body is the way that he felt about you, even then, and it wasn’t enough - but it was going to have to be.

What’s something he would tell you if he had the right words?

As I said before, Ryan doesn’t think that he’s very good with words, so instead of telling you things, he tries to show you. But:

He’d tell you that he never wants you to compromise your own dreams for his. That he wants you to do what makes you happy - that if it doesn’t involve him, he gets it, but that he wants to involve you in every part of his life. He’d tell you that he feels like you’re a missing piece for him, that he was looking for you - and what you represent - for longer than after Vegas, it was before, too. The wandering and the learning and the life that he led before you was necessary, and he wouldn’t change much of anything (though he would have liked to go home before his mom passed to say goodbye), because it meant that he was more than prepared to make the decision to stop. Ryan would do anything to convince you that even though he might still go occasionally, he’d never leave you willingly.

What’s something he’s always wished he could do?

Ryan wishes that he could paint or draw. He’s happy with playing guitar and piano, and he can admit that he has a decent voice, but he wishes that he was able to visually create things, too. That was one of the things that he and the tattoo artist talked about while she was inking his shoulder; she freehanded the design onto the transfer sheet, and Ryan was really impressed.

Another thing that Ryan wishes that he could do? Cook. He’s never had the opportunity to seriously learn before (aside from short-order stuff in the diners that he’s worked in and simple recipes) … but now that he’s finally got a ‘home’, maybe this will change.

#ryan brenner #ryan brenner imagine #ryan brenner fic #ryan brenner story #ryan brenner headcanon #jackie and ryan #headcanon #ben barnes character imagine #just a place #neon lights #ryan brenner x reader

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jellyfishdooter · 6 years ago

Photo

LISTEN

I HAVE VERY LOW IMPULSE CONTROL

In spite of the current community fire I give you this Rise of the Guardians AU

Character explanations/ mini story under the cut

So after watching Rise of the Guardians (one of my fav animated movies) I got the idea for an AU where the egos are like the Guardians of the JSE community.

Their designs are based off/ inspired by the characters in the movie but instead of just drawing the egos as those characters, I more so let them inspire re-creations of their outfits/ powers

Chase: Jack Frost- Guardian of Family

In the beginning he doesn’t see himself as a guardian. He’s a screw up, a washout. But even through his depression he tries to make others happy before himself. He does this by having fun and trying to get those in the community to join in with him! It’s later on that he realizes he has a part to play and that his is making sure everyone is still together as one big community. He’s here to remind us that in troubling times that we all have each other- that we’re all family.

JBM: Santa- Guardian of Hope

Being the super hero of the group, it’s JBM’s job to protect the innocent and give off the appearance of being something people can depend upon- someone who can protect everyone from danger. He helps the community become strong and makes them laugh along the way (even if he has to make a fool of himself to do it, he loves our smiles)- he gives them hope.

Marvin: Tooth Fairy- Guardian of Creativity (Sams: small Tooth Fairies)

Much like tooth fairy in the movie, it’s Marvin’s job to collect fanart/ fanworks and store them so when the community forgets all that they have built together, he shows them. Not only that, he inspires the content creators and represents their passion for their art. And it’s what he protects. (Along with the help of the little Sams who are the ones who actually collects and re-distributes it so everyone can see what they’ve made.)

Jameson: Sandman- Guardian of Positivity

Arguably one of the most important guardians of the community, JJ is there to remind people the importance of PMA. In his own quiet ways, he encourages the members to think on the bright side- or is just there to give hugs and be there for them. Whenever someone is in such a dark place, he uses his powers to show them that they still have so much potential and that they’re not alone. He give them a light in a dark place to hold onto. (Yes, he uses sign language AND the sand symbols for those who don’t understand sign)

Schneep: Bunny- Guardian of Health

Being the good doctor of the group, he’s there to remind the community to take care of themselves. Yes he may be a lil aggressive in the way he gives out advice, but for a lot of people they need their butts a little kicks to get them moving to help themselves. But not only physical health, he’s also willing to sit down and talk about mental health and analyze what the problem is/ works to help you understand how to improve yourself.

Anti: The Boogieman- “Guardian” of Fear and Chaos

And last but not least, our dear little firestarter. For so LONG he’s waited, waited to be in the spotlight. Before the other egos show up it was just him and it was delicious. He had so much power as he fed off of our fears, insecurities, and of course the headcanons and theories we made about him. But then Jack HAD to make more egos and fill the community with positivity and light. So he sunk back and waited for his opportunity- he waited for his powers to grow strong in the background. And with all of the hints being dropped and community fueling the fire in a continuous positive feedback loop, he gains more and more strength every day. He reminds the community not everything is peachy and rosy. That there are awful things in the world and how you’re just a tiny ripple in a storming ocean. Insignificant. He doesn’t want to stamp out the community- that would be counterproductive. No he just wants them to feel fear for the channel- that nothing is safe anymore- at any turn he could be there. And with that everything always comes back to him.

And sooner or later, the others will fade away...

Extra Headcanons/ Tidbits:

Before they were all guardians they were other people. (TW: death and suicide mentions) -Anti was a reckless criminal and one night his “friends” betrayed him, leaving him behind which wound up being the end of him. They were running from the police and were trying to jump a tall fence when his comrades left the struggling man behind to take the fall. He did in more ways than one. -JBM was just a regular dude, but he sacrificed himself to save a kid getting hit by a bus in the city. Even though he was about to die he kept asking if the kid was okay. The medics told him he saved them and that’s all he needed to hear. -Marvin was a street magician in his time. He did tricks to cheer up people sitting on the sidewalk/ sitting alone and talked to them about their passions. Later the same people would come back and tell him about the new job they got or the current project they were working on. He pulled a teen off the side of a bridge and a local cop mistook it for him attacking her and.. well.. things escalated quickly -Henrik was an upstanding surgeon. He saved lives every day in his career. Even though his wife and child left him, he worked every day to become a better doctor and continued to save people. And after the surgeries he would personally counsel the patients to make sure they were okay physically and mentally. But one day.. they didn’t have a matching organ for the patient on standby.. and he knew he matched the credentials. -Jameson was a small movie star in his time. And when he wasn’t filming he went down in quiet to lift the spirits of homeless children and teens. He would put on small performances and then go around to each of them and comfort them if they said it was okay. He made sure by the end of his visit they were all in high spirit. But one day the filming studio caught fire. The smoke damaged his lungs so he couldn’t call out before the building collapsed. -And Chase... He had a loving wife and two kids who he cared for with his life. He vowed to himself to protect them, even though his wife turned into a bitch as the years went on. One night they were walking home from a day at the amusement park and Chase got jumped with his kids nearby. The criminal threatened to kill the kids if Chase didn’t comply. So to protect them, he did as the criminal said, handing over his wallet and watch and phone. And when the criminal was about to kill one of them anyway, instinct took over and Chase knocked the man down and knocked him out- but when he fell the gun went off

The lights on the globe are the septiclights, each one representing a person in the community

Instead of holidays, the guardians help in the background of charity livestreams and videos to give them that little extra spark.

Sean is the equivalent of the Man in the Moon

The extra fan-made egos (like Robbie, Shawn, Angus, and Bing) are still around, they just aren’t the big guardians.

If they were tho... Robbie- Guardian of Innocence, Shawn- Guardian of Voice, Angus- Guardian of... idk, Protection? Or maybe head cannons lol, Bing- Guardian of Online Connections

When too much of the community becomes afraid/ depressed, the guardian’s form changes (like in the movie) before they disappear -JBM: Becomes weaker, probably needs his glasses to see again, basically turned into a comicbook nerd -Marvin: Loses a lot of his color, magic goes away, turns into a cat? -Henrik: Hands continuously shake, gains a stutter so people can hardly understand him, becomes super paranoid/ closed off -JJ: His colors fade to black and white, it’s really hard to summon his powers, always about to cry/ wants to scream -Chase: Goes into a low state of depression, isolates himself a lot -Anti: His bravado diminishes- basically turns into an edgy teen with spasms instead of actual glitches, wound on his neck closes.

Like in the movie there’s a point where Anti takes over (like right now) and everyone’s powers start to fade

To make this angsty(er) he manages to kill JJ and he disappears, along with the light of positivity in the community.

Chase blames himself for not being fast enough to save him

To turn thing around Henrik suggests a charity livestream to promote a mental health organization. So they all work together to prep

A young community member somehow gets into Henrik’s realm

Memes and shenanigans ensue

“We spend all our time trying to protect the community, we don’t HAVE TIME-... for the community..?”

Chase runs off after young familiar voices calling out for their daddy

Chase ends up in Anti’s realm of fear(the opening is in the woods under an abandoned computer desk). It’s a series of twisted hallways bathed in red light and entire walls of glitching computer screens that cast weird shadows

When Chase gets out he realizes all the equipment is destroyed and he wasn’t there to help

Henrik blames Chase and sad dad runs off.

The community is plunged into a state of fire and fear and there’s no positivity anywhere to be found.

Except one last light...

A fan is talking to a Sam plushie, saying that yeah they understand why the stream COULD have been cancelled.. but everything in their life is just so dark they were really looking forward to it.

Chase finds them and uses his powers to make images of septic lights and funny moments in Jack’s videos

They realize it’s Chase who’s doing it and can see him

All the egos fight Anti with the help of a few community members beside them- giving them power to fight back.

The members bring back JJ

JJ kicks the ever living shit out of Anti with the help of the others beside him Okay I think I’ll stop here XD If you read all this... wowie!

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theexistentiallyqueer · 5 years ago

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Okay so I’ve been thinking about that really bad Hot Take that’s been circulating about fanfiction. And it’s been kind of simmering in me. The root of the problem with it isn’t so much that it diminishes the quality of fanfiction so much as the way it characterizes two completely different genres of media.

Preface: at no point is this ever, ever, ever a diatribe or condemnation against fanart or the work fanartists put into their work. This is about the value that is ascribed to visual art vs the value ascribed to literary art. I am trying to talk specifically about the denigration of literary art in fandom spaces and the way it’s been recently, in a very popular tumblr post, martyred at the expense of queer and disabled writers and writers of color.

Fanart (as a collective genre, according to that post) - Good, artistically-driven, pure, wholesome. Fanartists draw for the sake of becoming better artists, and every work a fanartist draws or creates is made with the goal of becoming a better artist. Fanartists never draw anything that is base, silly, shippy, or smutty; if there is pornographic art, it isn’t pornographic but Erotica. There is no such thing as low- or middling-quality art, because all artists are striving to sharpen their skills and become better artists, and there are no fanartists who draw just for fun or shits and giggles. Fanartists achieve fame purely on the merit of their own artistic ability. There’s no room to criticize fanartists who attempt to cis-wash trans (or trans pesenting) characters, or fanartists who blatantly, frequently, and with frankly no impunity (as their art is reblogged, and reblogged, and reblogged) whitewash characters of color.

Fanfiction (as a collective genre, according to that post) - Smutty, ship-fodder, audience-pleasing trash. Fanfic writers write for the sake of expressing their inner boners or enacting their internal fantasies. No fanfic writers seek a sense of growth in their writing or work to improve their writing in any way. The only reason any works of fanfiction are popular is because they cater to the readership’s base instincts, and the True Authors, the Really Daring authors who write Real Literary Content, are cast the wayside.

It’s such a two-dimensional view of the situation--and it doesn’t even take into account edited content, such as gifsets, which makes up a huge portion of fandom content and has been a type of content, along with fanart, that fanfic writers have long voiced their (our) upset about getting more active & polarized attention than written works. It presents this dichotic view of fanart good/fanfiction bad. Which is also incredibly ugly and disturbing when you consider the fact that fanfiction is the earliest form of curated fan content, and fanfiction itself is inherently transformative in a way that fanart and edits are not, because fanwork in general, and and fanfiction in particular, is inherently in and of itself the public (fans) themselves overriding the corporate-owned landscape with their subversive interpretations.

Like, I have seen not-good fanart. I have seen bland, unimpressive, generic fanart. There is fanart from artists who don’t have their own unique sense of style. Fanart from artists who are just starting out and haven’t developed their skills yet. Fanart from artists who draw as a hobby, and damn they may be good, but they don’t give a fuck about contributing to The Body of Artistry because they have bills to pay and career interests outside of art, and damn, they’d really rather draw these two characters making out, or blushing at each other, or straight-up fucking, than they would create something of Great Artistic Importance. That art gets so many notes. It is liked and reblogged and shared.

And that’s all valid, because art ISN’T A COMPETITIVE SPORT. I embrace fanartists who draw just because they want to, because they don’t care about quality or artistic ideals or whatever, and just want to draw someone being happy, or sad, or angry, or getting dicked down, or whatever!!! It doesn’t matter. Draw because you want to draw. Because your art is an expression of yourself that speaks of your experiences and transgresses the definitions of the world you’ve been told to adhere to. You make art for yourself, to say fuck the system!!!! We’re just the lucky souls who get to appreciate it afterwards.

The complaints that come from fanfic writers--and yes!!! I am one, so proceed with the accusations of butthurt--are that fanart and edits get more social media attention (in the forms of likes, reblogs, retweets, shares, etc.) than fanfic does.

And it’s a valid complaint! It isn’t rooted in some alien reality that fanfiction is inherently more base and less artistic than fanart. I’ve seen some pretty aesthetically displeasing fanart get a high reblog count. And I’ve seen some incredible works of literary attention get no recs, no likes, no comments. I’ve seen works of middling writers who have a lot of fucking talent and show it in their work, and yeah maybe they write porn, but their prose SINGS, and no one comments, no one shares it, no one makes their love of it public the same way they do the fanart, the same way they do the edits and the gifsets.

It’s rooted in two things:

1. Literature (which fanfiction is a subgenre of) takes time to appreciate. You can look at a piece of art and reblog it without thinking about it. It could be a work on par with the Mona Lisa, and you could still look at it without any aesthetic or artistic sense and say, “Hey, that looks pretty.” But you can’t read without thinking; reading is an active mental pursuit you have to engage with. (If you try to pull out Twilight on this point to fight me, I’ll fight you back. I’ve actively read Twilight. Even reading awful literature takes effort; arguably it takes more effort than reading something good).

2. Literature is hard to market with words, because when you’re trying to encourage other people to read it, you have to use even more words. You have to use words to convince someone to read even more words! Some fanartists draw comics or fanart inspired by fanfiction--I love those artists and they do more for us than they could possibly know--but for the most part, you can’t use visuals to show someone why they should invest their time in reading a thing. And unlike fanart--when it’s a tribute, when it’s a showcase of the character’s or characters’ canonical attributes--fanfiction can’t be green-stamped by creators, because fanfiction is inherently built in narrative, and canon-compliant or not, that opens the legal owners of the property up to legal disputes.

So much easier, then, to focus on fanart, which distribution and publishing companies love because they see free advertising in sharing it, to complain that fanfiction is a dispirited genre of unartistic creators who just want to read the queer version of a bodice-ripper.

And then we get to the question of: why is the bodice ripper so bad? Are you willing to critique Jack Kerouac and Charles Bukowski with the same derision you have for queer writers? Are you going to hold the wish-fulfillment fantasies and introspective examinations of sexuality in relation to gender, race, class, and physical ability written by writers expressing their own experiences as inherently debauched and debased because pornographic fanfiction is popular, but not hold George R R Martin to the same standard? Are you going to criticize the prejudices and disparities and biases in publishing that prevent marginalized writers from being able to break into the industry?

Are you ready to combat the enduring popularity of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, which is overwhelmingly a series of heroism tales about shitty and mediocre white men?

Are you going to take aim at HBO for taking a fantasy series that, while still written by a sexist author who has a disturbing fixation on female sexuality has uplifted its female characters as heroes in their own right, and then drove it into the dirt to end on a note with the male “hero” murdering his female lover, an abuse survivor, after engaging her in an intimate kiss?

Did you take issue with the streaming blockbuster Stranger Things only confirming a character as canonically gay--after planning to have her be a straight romantic option for a major character--because the actress is the one who repeatedly badgered the showrunners about how she didn’t feel her character fit that role?

Are you invested in the fact that video games continue to be majority white, majority male, majority able-bodied, and majority inaccessible to disabled gamers?

You want to complain about fanfiction having too much porn and somehow that deligitimizes fanfiction as a genre as a whole?

Fuck off. There are hundreds, thousands even more likely, of other authors of equal skill to you or greater, who are struggling to have their works recognized in fandoms that don’t want to put the effort in to reading them, the effort into sharing and appreciating them. It’s harder to make someone care about a fanfic. You can reblog a fanart, and your followers will see the art itself right away. If you reblog fanfic, they have to make the conscious choice to engage with it. And none of that is your fault, because you can’t control how other people engage with fan content, but you can advocate, vocally, for the fair and equal respect for fanfiction and fan-written content. You can remind people, again and again, how fanfic writers do so much for so little.

But you want to come into my house and compare fanart to fanficton and claim one is inherently better? You’re the Banksy to my Catherynne L Valente, to my N.K. Jemisin, to my Seanan McGuire.

Start understanding the system is built against us all and start understanding why your battle is uphill. What’s oppressing your creative success is a white, straight, cis monopoly on what the good story, what the correct story is, limiting your options, tying you to a narrative you don’t belong to. Queerness and marginalization exist beyond what’s depicted in mainstream media, and fans expressing that through their own written content?

That’s us taking back the corporate-owned narrative for ourselves. It’s self-liberation through the written word. And yeah, some of it is porn.

It’s porn when it’s a drawing too.

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frederator-studios · 7 years ago

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Kate Leth: The Frederator Interview

One of our top-most frequently asked Qs is: “Do I need to study art or animation to become a creator”? Our long-winded answer could really be replaced with: “Look up Kate Leth”. For many of you, this intro itself will be redundant. Since she began posting her personal Kate or Die! comics in 2011, the growth of Kate’s now-ginormous online following - as well as heaps of talent and hard work - opened doors for her to become one of the most exciting comic book creators and animation writers working today. It was awesome talking with Kate about her adoration for Plum, the rising tide of female and non-binary voices in animation, and witches - lots ‘n lots of witches.

Kate: So now, where are these being posted?

Cooper: On our Tumblr! We have a long-running Studios blog. Do you know the Frederator // Tumblr origin story?

K: Maybe??

C: David Karp launched Tumblr from his desk at Frederator when he was an intern! Fred Seibert was one of its first bloggers and investors.

K: Oh that’s funny! I still use Tumblr sometimes, as like a less stressful platform than Twitter. Which it used to be much more so?

Yeah, Twitter’s really taken over, huh? Do you like Twitter or does it feel like a chore?

Half and half! I like the fun side of Twitter but it is also pretty depressing. I’m starting to use Instagram more, cause it’s just happier. It’s like a nice break, scrolling through pictures of my cute friends!

Has social media been very important to your career?

Oh yeah - all of the work I’ve ever gotten has pretty much been through social media. I come from a super small town in Canada, which makes it harder to network and connect with people. It used to be you’d meet people at Cons, but now you meet everybody online. So many of the connections I’ve made and so many of the jobs I’ve gotten have been through Twitter and Tumblr. I don’t know where my career would be without those platforms!

That’s amazing. Did you know those opportunities were out there when you started posting?

I got into Tumblr just to follow people. I worked at a comic book store at the time, and my boss knew that I was drawing and encouraged me to put my stuff online. So I did, and slowly started to amass a small following. It got bigger, and that was how I got discovered by BOOM!, which is how I did my first published comics—including the Bravest Warriors comics, which is kinda funny!

Whoa, cool! From comic book store employee to comic book writer - how was that transition?

I started working there in like... 2009 or 2010? It was part time; I was also working at a dress shop. But I got fired from the dress shop (laughs) so I became full time at the comic book store. My boss, Calum Johnston, was a really engaged member of the arts community. He pushed people to make comics and share them, and that’s how I got started.

He must be so stoked to see where your career is now.

It’s really wild to look back on. When I wanted to self-publish my first zine, I had no money. I was a super broke art student. Cal sold his original art of the cover of the first volume of Scott Pilgrim and used the money to help me and a bunch of other people self-publish our comics. He’s a really good dude.

That’s so generous! Do you stay in touch with people there?

Yeah, I try to! His daughter is in animation school now. I’ve known her since she was like 14. It’s cool cause now I can promote her work and help her get a foot in the industry, so it comes full circle!

When you got the job at the store, were you just a fan? Or did you know you wanted to be a creator?

Just a fan! I was really big into autobio and self-published comics. Kate Beaton, Lucy Knisley, Erica Moen, and Jess Fink were all creators I was following at the time. Kate Beaton is from Nova Scotia like me, and I watched her get successful on LiveJournal and things as a comic artist—and yet she had studied history! She had no formal arts training; she’d just started making comics for fun. I had always thought that if you didn’t go to art school, that wasn’t an avenue for you. Seeing what she was doing made me realize, “Oh, people can do that!? Maybe I could too!” I’d been reading web comics since junior high, but it was never something that I thought I could do, until I started doing it. Being on Tumblr was also really encouraging; seeing so many other people just starting out and at a similar skill level with their art.

How did the path from self-publishing to BOOM! go?

It was sort of accidental. An editor came across Kate or Die!, and I was offered a backup strip in one of the Adventure Time comics. Only like 2 pages - super short. And then they came back with an offer to write a whole graphic novel? I’d never written anything longer than 4 pages in my life. But I was like, “Sure, I can do that!”. So I wrote Seeing Red, my first Adventure Time comic. And it did well, so they asked me to write another one. And all of a sudden that was my job! I was like, “Oh, okay, I better get good at this.”

Wow, so you taught yourself how to write comics? And to screenwrite?

Oh yeah, I didn’t go to school for any of this. I went to school for makeup and photography. I was a professional makeup artist for a couple years. Then I studied photography for two years. Then I dropped out. A college dropout made good! At first, I didn’t feel like I knew what I was doing. I’ve been writing comics for 6 or 7 years, and I only now feel like I’m good at them (laughing) I know people will disagree! I’m very self-deprecating. But I definitely feel like I understand what you need to craft a story now. When I started, I didn’t think about stories as a whole: knowing where you’re going, how you’ll get there, the themes you’ll touch along the way. I did a lot of improv in high school, so I felt fine sitting down and just starting! I'd make stuff up as I went. But that doesn’t make for as good of stories. So over time I’ve learned to sit down and really figure out the world, the arcs, the timing for big moments. I fill books with outlines!

Do you have a favorite project you’ve worked on?

Spell on Wheels, which just came out from Dark Horse last year, is something I’m really proud of. It’s about witches on a road trip. Megan Levens and Marissa Louise, the artist and colorist I’m working with are so awesome; I’m really happy that we’re gonna do more of it. And it’s nice to have an original series out there, because I’ve worked on so many other people’s properties.

What are the biggest differences there?

It’s very freeing to write an original. You’re not beholden to any corporate standards or licensers, so it’s easier to tell the kind of stories that you want to tell. Especially in terms of things like diversity and queerness, there’s nobody saying, “Oh, we can’t do that because it’s not in the TV show”. It’s nice to not have to worry about things like that. Dark Horse has been very supportive of it, which is cool.

Is Spell on Wheels your main project right now, or what else is goin’ on?

I work in animation primarily now, so I’m working for Hasbro and some other places that I can’t talk about yet, as is always the way. But I’ve been with Hasbro for about a year and a half, as a sort of jack of all trades writer. I’ve worked on My Little Pony: Equestria Girls, Littlest Pet Shop, and a bunch of other things that haven’t been announced yet. As for comics, I’m currently working on the Mysticons graphic novels - the first one comes out in August.

What do you like best about being a writer?

I love it. I think it’s amazing to create worlds and characters and stories and see them brought to life by so many different kinds of people, with so many different artistic styles and talents and specialties. It’s just like magic. Animation is so exciting. You write a script and then you wait... like a year... and then it’s animated! And there are voices saying your jokes! I feel like the thrill of that might wear off at some point, but it definitely hasn’t yet.

What are your favorite cartoons?

Sailor Moon is top of the list. And Cardcaptor Sakura - any magical girl anime I would just eat up as a kid. I watched Disney’s One Saturday Morning religiously, Doug and all of those shows. And now Steven Universe is a big favorite. I got to write an episode for Craig of the Creek, which is great, and I’m really excited about that. And I’m a huge fan of Bob’s Burgers!

What is your episode of Craig of the Creek about?

Witches. I’m very into witches! I grew up on Buffy, Charmed - every YA book I could get my hands on. Practical Magic is my favorite movie. I feel like there were so many movies and TV shows about witches in the 90s. I’m ready for that genre to loop back, in a BIG way. And for the episode of Craig of the Creek, I created characters that ended up becoming part of the recurring cast! So it was neat to contribute to that world a little bit.

What is your favorite thing about Bravest Warriors?

Plum. Just Plum, in general. She’s my favorite character to write - she’s just so fun. She’s silly and weird, and once you get her voice right, she’s such a laugh. She's so blunt and harsh, but in this innocent, unintentional way.

Your episode “Chained to Your Side” has the Scaley Williams Dance - what inspired your play on Sadie Hawkins?

We don’t actually have Sadie Hawkins dances in Canada, which is funny. But I’ve always been kind of fascinated by the concept: “Oooh it’s so rebellious cause the girls ask the boys.” Which is so outdated! So I thought, what’s the futuristic version of that… and got: ‘the girls ‘dart’ the boys’. And we had this conversation, like, “Okay, they dart the boys - but it has to be consensual! They have to say yes!” That was very important (laughing) I could only take that joke to a certain point. But I knew the dance idea would let me do a lot with Beth and Plum. And I love beating up Danny. Like that’s my favorite thing to do in the comics. Just let terrible things happen to Danny. He’s such a goofball.

What are the themes that recur in your characters and stories the most?

Surface level, the obvious: witches and gay stuff. In a deeper sense, things I come back to a lot… there are a lot of characters I’ve written that work retail or minimum wage jobs. Because that’s what I grew up with—I moved out when I was 17 and started working, and did that up until 4 or 5 years ago. So that’s a huge part of my experience. Definitely characters who aren’t borne of privilege and are struggling to prove themselves. Like Hellcat especially, is very much about someone in their 20s just trying to get by. And I talk about self-acceptance a lot. I like genuine moments between people. Amid the comedy, I like there to be something real - especially if it’s something difficult to talk about. Hellcat is this really upbeat superhero, Saturday Morning Cartoon vibe—but I did an entire arc about how people misinterpret and mistreat men who are bisexual, and how that’s different from how bisexual women are treated. So it’s this funny comic, but still touching on real topics. I like to try to say something. But not, you know, hit people over the head with it.

Do you have a cartoon project that’s your favorite?

Yeah, but I’m not allowed to talk about it yet! I have had a lot of fun working on Equestria Girls. It’s so exciting to write stuff for kids. Since I started in animation I’ve actually tried to shoehorn myself: I want to write action-adventure for girls. That’s what I want to do. I’ve managed to get to a place where that’s everything I’m working on now, and that’s really exciting. A lot of people don’t want to be pegged like that, but I’m like, “Oh, you want me to write girls punching and having feelings? Good, I’m here for it!”

It’s funny to pigeon-hole yourself! Most writers seem to want the opposite.

I doubt I’ll want to do the same thing forever! But I definitely don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting to tell stories for girls. For a long time I think there was an onus to make sure your show could appeal to boys, and that led to a lot of female characters getting side-lined, because executives would say, “Boys need someone to relate to!” And I agree with that—but I really don’t believe there’s any reason boys can’t relate to or look up to girls. And I think perpetuating the idea that they can’t is pretty harmful.

In your time in the industry, have you noticed animation becoming more inclusive and diverse?

I’m lucky in what I’ve worked on. Hasbro has a huge female staff and a lot of the executives are women, so they’re very supportive of that. There’s always room for more diversity, but it’s been good. I know there are parts of the industry that are still very much a boys club, but I’ve stayed pretty far away from those, and would prefer to keep it that way. There are so many women coming into animation now. I know so many women and non-binary folks working in the field that are just going to keep rising. It’s definitely a rising tide.

That’s awesome.

Well, I have to believe that, or else I get depressed! (laughing). My boyfriend and I play a game where at the end of movies, we count how many title cards we get through before seeing a woman’s name. (I groan) Yeah, it’s wild. Usually it ends up being a producer, or the casting director, or a costume designer. It’s rarely someone on the creative end. And when you start looking for it, you really start noticing it. But it’s heartening when you see a movie that defies that. Like at the end of Black Panther, there were a ton of women’s names early on in those credits! That’s my goal, is to like (laughing), be the early in the credits female name. And then fill the rest of those credits with people I know.

Oh cool, so you would want to make a feature film?

Yeah. I have lofty goals. We’ll see what happens, but I don’t want to close myself off to any opportunities.

Do you know what that movie would be about?

Probably witches. But I guess we’ll see! ❀

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Follow Kate on Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr: @kateordie

Thank you so much for the interview Kate! I’m excited for your upcoming projects, especially the ones about Girl Magic. Soo... all of them :D

- Cooper

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copiegrandeurnature · 4 years ago

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Imagining our alternate selves can be fuel for fantasy or fodder for regret. Most of us aren’t haunted so acutely by the people we might have been. But, perhaps for a morning or a month, our lives can still thrum with the knowledge that it could have been otherwise.

“The thought that I might have become someone else is so bland that dwelling on it sometimes seems fatuous,” the literary scholar Andrew H. Miller writes, in “On Not Being Someone Else: Tales of Our Unled Lives” (Harvard). Still, phrased the right way, the thought has an insistent, uncanny magnetism. Miller’s book is, among other things, a compendium of expressions of wonder over what might have been. Miller quotes Clifford Geertz, who, in “The Interpretation of Cultures,” wrote that “one of the most significant facts about us may finally be that we all begin with the natural equipment to live a thousand kinds of life but end in the end having lived only one.” He cites the critic William Empson: “There is more in the child than any man has been able to keep.” We have unlived lives for all sorts of reasons: because we make choices; because society constrains us; because events force our hand; most of all, because we are singular individuals, becoming more so with time. “While growth realizes, it narrows,” Miller writes. “Plural possibilities simmer down.” This is painful, but it’s an odd kind of pain—hypothetical, paradoxical. Even as we regret who we haven’t become, we value who we are. We seem to find meaning in what’s never happened. Our self-portraits use a lot of negative space.

“You may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife,” David Byrne sings, in the Talking Heads song “Once in a Lifetime.” “And you may ask yourself, ‘Well, how did I get here?’ ” Maybe you feel suddenly pushed around by your life, and wonder if you could have willed it into a different shape. Perhaps you suddenly remember, as Hilary Mantel did, that you have another self “filed in a drawer of your consciousness, like a short story that wouldn’t work after the opening lines.” Today, your life is irritating, like an ill-fitting garment; you can’t forget it’s there. “You may tell yourself, ‘This is not my beautiful house. . . . This is not my beautiful wife,’ ” Byrne sings. Swept up in our real lives, we quickly forget about the unreal ones. Still, there will be moments when, for good or for ill, we feel confronted by our unrealized possibilities; they may even, through their persistence, shape us. Practitioners of mindfulness tell us that we should look away, returning our gaze to the actual, the here and now. But we might have the opposite impulse, as Miller does. He wants us to wander in the hall of mirrors—to let our imagined selves “linger longer and say more.” What can our unreal selves say about our real ones?

It’s likely, Miller thinks, that capitalism, “with its isolation of individuals and its accelerating generation of choices and chances,” has increased the number of our unlived lives. “The elevation of choice as an absolute good, the experience of chance as a strange affront, the increasing number of exciting, stultifying decisions we must make, the review of the past to improve future outcomes”—all these “feed the people we’re not.” Advertisers sell us things by getting us to imagine better versions of ourselves, even though there’s only one life to live: it’s “yolo + fomo,” a friend tells Miller, summing up the situation nicely. The nature of work deepens the problem. “Unlike the agricultural and industrial societies that preceded it,” Miller writes, our “professional society” is “made up of specialized careers, ladders of achievement.” You make your choice, forgoing others: year by year, you “clamber up into your future,” thinking back on the ladders unclimbed.

Historic events generate unlived lives. Years from now, we may wonder where we would be if the coronavirus pandemic hadn’t shifted us onto new courses. Sometimes we can see another life opening out to one side, like a freeway exit. Miller recounts the sad history of Jack and Ennis, the cowboys in Annie Proulx’s story “Brokeback Mountain,” who are in love but live in Wyoming in the nineteen-sixties and seventies, and so must hide it. They disagree about how to understand their predicament. Ennis has no “serious hard feelings,” Proulx tells us. “Just a vague sense of getting short-changed.” But Jack, Miller writes, “is haunted by the lives they might have led together, running a little ranch or living in Mexico, somewhere away from civilization and its systematic and personal violence.” Jack tells Ennis, “We could a had a good life together, a fuckin real good life.” The existence he has is spoiled by the one he doesn’t.

It makes sense for Jack to dwell on how things might have turned out in a better world. And yet we can have the same kinds of thoughts even when we’re basically happy with our lives. The philosopher Charles Taylor, who has written much about the history of selfhood, has a theory about why we can’t just accept the way things are: he thinks that sometime toward the end of the eighteenth century two big trends in our self-understanding converged. We learned to think of ourselves as “deep” individuals, with hidden wellsprings of feeling and talent that we owed it to ourselves to find. At the same time, we came to see ourselves objectively—as somewhat interchangeable members of the same species and of a competitive mass society. Subjectivity and objectivity both grew more intense. We came to feel that our lives, pictured from the outside, failed to reflect the vibrancy within.

A whole art form—the novel—has been dedicated to exploring this dynamic. Novelists often show us people who, trapped by circumstances, struggle to live their “real” lives. Such a struggle can be Escher-like; a “real” life is one in which a person no longer yearns to find herself, and yet the work of finding oneself is itself a source of meaning. In Tolstoy’s “Anna Karenina,” Anna, caught in a boring marriage, destroys her life in an attempt to build a more passionate, authentic one with Count Vronsky. All the while, Levin, the novel’s other hero, is so confused about how to live that he longs for the kind of boring, automatic life that Anna left behind. Part of the work of being a modern person seems to be dreaming of alternate lives in which you don’t have to dream of alternate lives. We long to stop longing, but we also wring purpose from that desire.

An “unled” life sounds like one we might wish to lead—shoulda, coulda, woulda. But, while I’m conscious of my unlived lives, I don’t wish to have led one. In fact, as the father of a two-year-old, I find the prospect frightening. In “Midlife: A Philosophical Guide,” the philosopher Kieran Setiya points out that, thanks to the “butterfly effect,” even minor alterations to our pasts would likely have major effects on our presents.

Sartre thought we should focus on what we have done and will do, rather than on what we might have done or could do. He pointed out that we often take too narrow a census of our actions. An artist, he maintains, is not to be “judged solely by his works of art, for a thousand other things also help to define him.” We do more than we give ourselves credit for; our real lives are richer than we think. This is why, if you keep a diary, you may feel more satisfied with the life you live. And yet you may still wonder at the particular shape of that life; all stories have turning points, and it’s hard not to fixate on them.

Miller quotes the poem “Veracruz,” by George Stanley, in full. It opens by the sea in Mexico, where Stanley is walking on an esplanade. He thinks of how his father once walked on a similar esplanade in Cuba. Step by step, he imagines alternative lives for his father and for himself. What if his dad had moved to San Francisco and “married / not my mother, but her brother, whom he truly loved”? What if his father had transformed himself into a woman, and Stanley had been the child of his father and his uncle? Maybe he would have been born female, and “grown up in San Francisco as a girl, / a tall, serious girl.” If all that had happened, then today, walking by the sea in Mexico, he might be able to meet a sailor, have an affair, and “give birth at last to my son—the boy / I love.”

“Veracruz” reminds me of the people I know who believe in past lives, and of stories like the one David Lynch tells in “Twin Peaks,” in which people seem to step between alternate lives without knowing it. Such stories satisfy us deeply because they reconcile contrary ideas we have about ourselves and our souls. On the one hand, we understand that we could have turned out any number of ways; we know that we aren’t the only possible versions of ourselves. But, on the other, we feel that there is some fundamental light within us—a filament that burns, with its own special character, from birth to death. We want to think that, whoever we might have been, we would have burned with the same light. At the end of “Veracruz,” the poet comes home to the same son.

As Sartre says, we are who we are. But isn’t the negative space in a portrait part of that portrait? In the sense that our unled lives have been imagined by us, and are part of us, they are real; to know what someone isn’t—what she might have been, what she’s dreamed of being—this is to know someone intimately. When we first meet people, we know them as they are, but, with time, we perceive the auras of possibility that surround them. Miller describes the emotion this experience evokes as “beauty and heartbreak together.”

The novel I think of whenever I have this feeling is Virginia Woolf’s “To the Lighthouse.” Mrs. Ramsay, its central character, is the mother of eight children; the linchpin of her family, she is immersed in the practicalities of her crowded, communal life. Still, even as she attends to the particulars—the morning’s excursion, the evening’s dinner—she senses that they are only placeholders, or handles with which she can grasp something bigger. The details of life seem to her both worthy of attention and somehow arbitrary; the meaning of the whole feels tied up in its elusiveness. One night, she is sitting at dinner, surrounded by her children and her guests. She listens to her husband talking about poetry and philosophy; she watches her children whisper some private joke. (She can’t know that two of them will die: a daughter in childbirth, a son in the First World War.) Then she softens her focus. “She looked at the window in which the candle flames burnt brighter now that the panes were black,” Woolf writes, “and looking at that outside the voices came to her very strangely, as if they were voices at a service in a cathedral.” In this inner quiet, lines of poetry sound:

And all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be Are full of trees and changing leaves.

Mrs. Ramsay isn’t quite sure what these lines mean, and doesn’t know if she invented them, has just heard them, or is remembering them. Still, Woolf writes, “like music, the words seemed to be spoken by her own voice, outside her self, saying quite easily and naturally what had been in her mind the whole evening while she said different things.” We all dwell in the here and now; we all have actual selves, actual lives. But what are they? Selves and lives have penumbras and possibilities—that’s what’s unique about them. They are always changing, and so are always new; they refuse to stand still. We live in anticipation of their meaning, which will inevitably exceed what can be known or said. Much must be left unsaid, unseen, unlived.

Excerpt from: Joshua Rothman, ‘What If You Could Do It All Over? The uncanny allure of our unlived lives’, in: The New Yorker (December 14, 2020).

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